We found some grazing llamas in the hills above town the other day. Zak stalked one until he was able to touch it and that night we all ate alpaca meat which was, in retrospect, an additional way of demonstrating mans dominance over nature, for better or worse. By the way, alpaca doesn’t taste like chicken, rather it is a very lean but flavorful dark meat, I’d recommend picking up a pound or two at Von’s. We have not yet had the opportunity to eat Cuy or guinea pig (a local delicacy), but we have found a couple of guinea pig skins tacked to the walls of local restaurants. I was also lucky enough to eat at a local restaurant which specialized in el chicharrón. These are nothing like the fried pork crackling chicharrones one finds in Mexico but consisted of hunks of succulent pork that had been fried in pork fat. They were served with boiled potatoes, huge kernels of corn, raw onions, yerba buena leaves, and a fantastic green picante sauce. I was the only gringo in the place but I will definitely go back.

Many mornings this week we’ve been awakened to the sound of fireworks celebrating various holy days relating to the beginning of lent. Zachary and I were able to go to the Cathedral (which is on the left of the picture of the Plaza de Armas in an earlier posting) on the morning they were celebrating a mass commemorating the day Jesus Christ was sentenced to die. The mass was quite different than those of my youth back at St. Joseph in Waconia, Minnesota. First, only about half of the congregants were paying attention to the Priest. Many others were praying at side altars, the most popular that morning was one gilded in gold and silver and devoted to Jesus although another devoted to Mary came in a first second. Other people were moving about the cathedral to one point of prayer or another. The cathedral itself was beautiful. It never ceases to amaze me the degree to which religion can be used to harness the energy and wealth of a locale. The large main altar was entirely gilded in gold and silver and faced a massive choir of incredibly intricately carved wood. There were many paintings around the church dating from the colonial era and one of the highlights for us was a local adaptation of the Last Supper. The men were recognizable as typical apostolic figures although with mestizo overtones. Rather than seated along one side of along table, wedding party style, these men were seated around a round table, King Arthur style. But what really set the painting apart was the supper itself. Rather than wine and bread, a little roast cuy, or guinea pig, was prominently displayed in the middle of the table with its little roasted legs stuck up in the air. The same day we also visited some fascinating Incan ruins at a place called Qorikancha which I understand roughly translates into place of gold in Quechua (a language spoke by a significant portion of the population here); the ruins are also known as the Temple of the Sun. This was, apparently, the most religious site of the Incan empire and many of the walls and other surfaces were literally covered in gold. The Spanish, of course, plundered the place and then plopped down a church on top of the Incan walls and the part of the structure used during Incan times to house the “chosen women” of the sun was transformed into the convent of Santo Domingo. This is ironic as the role and practices of the latter inhabitants were apparently diametrically opposite those of the former.

Last Sunday was carnival, which is essentially one big celebration before the asceticism of Lent, so we returned to the central plaza to watch the festivities. First there was a parade or really more of a procession of local civic groups and representatives of various schools and universities as well as various military regiments including a group with lightning bolts painted across their black faces. The groups clearly took their roles very seriously and all were well groomed and in dark suits as local dignitaries gave speeches, etc. However a little of the old Wahoo was interjected into the proceedings by local youths who launched barrages of water balloons and sprayed foam from handheld cans at various groups as they finished the procession and gathered in the local square. Everyone was very good natured about the attacks, clearly such behavior was condoned on this day only. The youths clearly relished their role as pranksters and who can blame them as such behavior would clearly not be condoned at any other time of the year. Added to the proceedings were dance groups representing the cultural customs and dress of various indigenous peoples including one group who performed rather strenuous dances accompanied by oddly droning music performed on a recorder, fiddle, and two drums. They wore ornate clown-like attire with rather bizarre masks that scared Maya, especially one of the figures who had the mask and attire evocative of some old crone out of one of those Disney fairy tales that have no redeeming adult female roles. We managed to get ourselves involved in a couple of water balloon skirmishes and I suffered a massive foam attack much to the delight of the Zak and Maya.