Episode Five: The Last of Peru
Kate and I arrived in Seville yesterday. This city is beautiful in every regard: narrow streets designed around nature, fountains in which dogs and children splash. Everyone seems tan and tipsy. Clearly socializing is the primary occupation.
It’s odd being in Spain having just seen their culture played out in a former colony. Seville is a far cry from the overcast grittiness of Lima. Thinking back on Peru, I remember it as a country of paradoxes. Here are some last experiences and thoughts from South America before our story heads east.
The Last of Peru
Paragliding
After visiting Lima three times, I’d experienced much of the city. The only thing I still really wanted to do was paraglide off the cliffs on La Costa Verde (The Green Coast). This has to be the closest humans can come to flying. With paragliding it’s just you, the guide, and a sail overhead. There’s none of the skydiving free fall or the bungee jumping jerk. You’re not attached to a boat or harnessed to a rock wall. With my wide wings, I shared the sky with kites and birds. Below me on the cliff walk couples embraced; children roller bladed; and a dog traced our journey with his eyes, craning his neck as we flew overhead. Tourists waved and shouted, “Look, she’s flying!” “Look, I’m flying,” I called in return.
Paragliding in Lima is priced for tourists–$60 USD for ten minutes. My guide was kind and kept me out for fifteen. When we turned to head in, I brought my legs out in front and leaned back like he had showed me. Half way there the guide shook his head and directed us back out towards the ocean. We circled the blue and white lighthouse and tried again… and again and again. We came in low over the cliffs, but the wind was working against us. I didn’t buy the video, but I can tell you what you would have seen–me sitting in the sky for forty minutes with a huge smile on my face. When we finally landed (the last by far), everyone watching started clapping and cheering, and my guide gave me a relieved hug. He may have been worried, but I had the time of my life. I spent the rest of the day flapping my arms wherever we walked, wishing I was airborne like my red-breasted namesake. Check one for the bucket list.
Spanish Classes & the Peruvian Transportation System
Since I was spending a full month in Peru, I was determined to learn some Spanish. Every morning I got up in the dark, pushed my air mattress out of the way and left Kate snuggling in her newfound unemployment as I trekked to my intensive language course. Kate wrote me four pages of notes on how to get to and from school, and after the first day, I completed the 1.5 hour journey on my own. I grew to enjoy this independence. S/.1.00 to buy a fried egg on a roll as I waited for my big purple bus. Staking out seats until someone disembarked and then sitting with my knees up to my ears. Listening to Tim Keller sermons, my iPod carefully zipped into my tightly clenched bag and the cord threaded underneath my jacket to prevent theft. Spanish classes were exhausting–and the language seems to have taken the place of French in my brain–but I’m excited that I can now understand more of the world around me. And although it took me four hours and many phone calls to Kate to get home the first night, I’m proud that I learned to navigate the crowded chaos of Peruvian busses.
Conclusion
This was my favorite time visiting Peru. In addition to seeing all my CFO friends (many of whom I hadn’t seen since 2007), I got to see Lima through Kate’s eyes. I loved meeting her boyfriend Victor in person, and walking into cafes and seeing his artistic work displayed (Seres Magicos del Peru (Spanish Edition)).
I enjoyed goodbye parties in eclectic bars…
…and splurging on the best seafood of my life at “Pescados Capitalas” with Rafael and Pierre.
And I definitely had fun flirting with the good looking Tonio, who turned out to be an ex-stripper/ converted Christian (could there be a better combination?).
Peru was wonderful, but it was also familiar. When Kate and I packed up her life and drove to the Lima airport at the end of August, we were headed for something entirely new: our first Arab country and Kate’s first experience in Africa. We were ready to experience Morocco.
Episode Four: Don’t Worry–The Bleeding is Totally Normal
What’s on your bucket list of things to do in the developing world? Let me guess… getting poked by needles? Yeah, me neither. But Kate and I agreed to say yes to (almost) every opportunity on this trip, and that determination has lead us into some strange situations.
In February I was diagnosed with Fibromyalgia. It’s been a rough year physically–one filled with headaches, muscle spasms, joint pain, and fatigue, plus a lot of doctor’s offices and research about auto-immune diseases. In consultation with my doctors, I even resigned from my job (temporarily–I plan to return to the workforce in a few months). A number of my friends/family have been diagnosed with diseases in the last few years, and I’ve found that for them too there is a process of coming to terms with what this means for our lives.
In Peru I had the privilege of staying in the home of a beautiful woman named Flora. She has Fibromyalgia as well so we spent time sharing our stories and the different treatments that have worked for us. Flora swears by acupuncture. She told me that it’s the best thing she’s found to manage the pain. My body was not adjusting well to the white starches and meat-centric diet we were fed at the conference in Peru, so I was willing to try anything. Flora gave us the name of her doctor, warning us as she did so that the office doesn’t look very nice, but the doctor knows what he is doing. Kate and I took the business card she offered and hopped in the car.
We took a taxi to a nondescript commercial building on the other side of town. A man on a telephone answered our knocking, and after giving us a once over, stepped aside to let us in. Kate and I followed Flora’s instructions to stride in like we knew what we were doing and to take the elevator to the basement.
The ancient elevator groaned but acquiesced as Kate pushed the button labeled “S.” When the doors reopened we were deposited in an unmarked hallway. We looked at each other, shrugged, and turned left, but the sharp words from a guard behind us alerted us to our mistake. Feeling more and more like we were going to buy purses in Chinatown rather than on our way to a doctor’s appointment, Kate and I meekly asked “acupuncturist?” and followed the man’s pointing finger around the corner to a door with prices and services listed and scratched out.
I assumed the “office” had once been white, but years in dusty Lima had taken their toll. The room was filled with faded yellow partitions, each carefully adorned with a green piece of tinsel–left over from Christmas? an attempt at gaiety? Regardless, the decorations did little to assuage the room’s likeness to the makeshift hospitals of WWII. I took my seat as Kate translated my aches and pains into Spanish. (“Too many,” the man said. “We’ll have to charge you extra for being so sick.”) Grateful as always for my competent friend, I closed my eyes and let the Korean opera music wash over me. This was going to be an experience.
The room was blurry in real life too.
They called Kate in first–my treatment was to be more complicated–and I entertained myself by looking at the framed picture of the human body with acupuncture notes. For instance, did you know that the large intestine meridian is located on the inside edge of your pointer finger? After about fifteen minutes I started to hear moans coming from behind the curtain. I was just about to barge into the back to save Kate when she emerged fully clothed and apparently pain-free. Our eyes met, both glad to see that the other was not the source of the sounds. The assistant came out to tell me that I would have to wait a bit longer. The woman groaning and shrieking was receiving the treatment I was to have, and they only had space for one person at a time.
When they finally called me in, Kate came with me to translate. I felt like I was playing an advanced game of telephone as the doctor gave instructions in Korean, his assistant translated them into Spanish, and then Kate passed the information along to me in English. I eyed a box of giant spine needles as I waited my turn.
The experience itself was more painful than I expected. The doctor swabbed each puncture wound with alcohol, but it wasn’t until I turned over that I realized the liquid running down my face was blood. I yelled to Kate who was waiting behind the curtain. She consulted with the assistant and then called back, “He says the bleeding is normal.”
As I got dressed–the tacky blood causing my clothes to stick to my skin–the doctor told Kate that after that treatment, I should never have pain again. That sounded like a pretty incredible claim, but nonetheless we were hopeful.
The muscles surrounding each insertion point were sore for ten days. One friend suggested that this was an excellent way to distract from the original pain. Now two weeks later I’d like to believe that my head and back are slightly improved, but those placebo effects are sneaky characters so I’m really not sure.
Would I recommend acupuncture? Absolutely. But not for pain relief. If you’re interested in experiencing developing world medicine however, give me a call. I know a great place in Peru.
Episode Three: The Blind Harpist and Saturday Night Live
Greetings from Lima, Peru! I’m here at the International meeting of Camps Farthest Out (CFO), a Christian organization whose mission is to help people experience the Kingdom of God on earth. Picture a camp filled with 200 people of all ages, ability levels, and Christian denominations, gathered from about twenty countries and people groups around the world. This is what we are experiencing! Here at camp we worship in English, Spanish, German, Taiwanese, Swahili and many more languages. I get chills when we say the 9 O’clock Prayer for Peace–my favorite part of the day–because we all know it, and because I can picture the belt of prayer circling our respective countries and time zones.
The World Prayer Broadcast–sending our prayers to the nations.
In this picture alone I count campers who attended from seven countries: the U.S., Australia, Peru, Canada, Kenya, India, and Germany.
It is incredible to be with believers from so many pockets of the globe, but it is overwhelming too. I have to struggle to make connections without the crutch of a common language. We all have to work to understand each others’ customs, humor, and worship styles. During the opening ceremonies the first night the regions of Peru took turns sharing their culture with us. It was a breathtakingly beautiful event, but also surreal. By the time they brought up the blind harpist, and the old men with hats but no shoes started stomping and singing in Quechua, the whole thing felt like a Saturday Night Live sketch. The men from Panau were of course beautiful, heartfelt, and interesting people and I became friends with many of them, but that first night all I could think was, “You can’t make this stuff up.”
The blind harpist from Panau leads us in worship
I was blessed to attend the CFOI Board Meeting before camp began. As Chairperson of the Advisory Council Ring for CFO North America this year, I am an ex-officio member of the CFOI Board; however, I am the first person in my position ever to attend the international board meeting. I was excited to be able to forge deeper connections between the domestic and international branches of CFO. This moment of play was one of my favorites.
The Philippines take on Taiwan to see who will host CFO International in 2017. Uganda referees.
On the first night of CFOI we marched into the opening ceremonies by
country, each carrying flags and singing our national anthems. But on the last night we marched out of the hall carrying each other’s flags because we are citizens of the Kingdom of God, which is not constrained by political borders. Lord, let your Kingdom come here and now. Let us learn to live love towards our brothers and sisters around the world, and those within our own communities. Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me. Amen.
Episode Two: I Can´t Believe the Mayans Built This [Round-the-World Edition]
Peru
August 5
Kaaaate! My friend and I grin and embrace each other as I emerge from customs in the Lima airport. Kate and I were Resident Advisors at Gordon College together, and friends and roommates after that. She studied abroad in Peru 2008, fell in love with an artist from the mountains of Arequipa, and moved back to South America after graduation. Now she´s a travel agent–or rather WAS a travel agent. That was before I convinced her to quit her job and travel the world with me. She greets me with Starbucks coffee and an offer to shoulder my backpacking pack–a true friend. It´s great to see Kate, but tonight is just a stopover; it´s hard to think about right now, but I´ll be back at this same airport by 4am. On my third trip to Peru I´ve finally booked a ticket to Machu Picchu.
Robin and Kate reunite in Lima (Kate has mixed feelings about their impending adventures)
August 6
Cusco is the jumping off point for any would-be venturers to Machu Picchu. You can take a 24 hour winding bus ride from Lima, but I opt to arrive by plane. I´m supposed to meet friends at the ruins and am already a few days behind them. At the baggage claim in Cusco I stand next to another backpacking gringo. According to her bag tag her name is Brittany and she is from Huntington Beach, California. I think about creepily starting a conversation using my newfound knowledge, ¨Hey Britt, how´s it going? How´s Cali this time of year?¨ but opt to keep quiet and take in my surroundings instead. I love being in countries where I don´t speak the language. I´m relegated to being an observer, to surviving off gestures and context clues. I listen a lot, and pray a lot. I´m aware of my own weakness.
I guess at this point I should mention that I lost my debit card. This was a few weeks ago on my flight to New York. Looooong story short I was able to finagle a replacement card, but when Kate and her boyfriend Victor take me to the ATM to withdraw soles my first night in Lima, it doesn´t work. I have a back up credit card, but no way to get cash. Through Skype calls to US Bank and my 90-year-old grandmother I find that a new pin number is on its way to New York, but that it won´t arrive for a few days. Victor lends me S./ 100 (about $40) to tide me over, but even in the developing world that won´t go far. Not only am I working with limited funds, but I only have one day at Machu Picchu before I have to head back to Lima for a conference. In order for this to work, pretty much everything has to go according to plan. Oh wait, did I mention I´m traveling in South America?
My first task is to buy entrance to the ruins. The Peruvian government shut down online payments a few months ago because of fraud, so I wasn´t able to get my ticket in advance. Only so many tickets are given out each day, and if you get to MP and find they´re sold out, you´re out of luck. I exercise my rusty bartering skills and arrange a taxi to the Cultural Ministry in downtown Cusco. After standing in line for a few hours I find that I can´t buy a ticket to the ruins because I don´t yet have my train ticket. There are no roads to Machu Picchu–only one British-owned train track–and if seats are sold out on the day you´re traveling… well, you get the idea. The government doesn´t want to waste a spot on someone who may not be able to make it to the ruins. I´m down to S./ 50. My chances aren´t looking good, but I decide to get as far as I can today. I´m thinking of calling this blog post ¨How to (unsuccessfully) travel in the developing world with no money and no language skills.¨
The next obstacle is to get to Ollantaytambo, a town about 2 hours from Cusco. From there I can catch a train to Aguas Calientes (Hot Springs) and then a bus to Machu Picchu itself. Through some hardcore bartering, a lot of smiles, and a little luck I make it to Aguas Calientes by 3pm. I´m hungry and have to use the bathroom, but I don´t have enough money for either. My Peruvian cell phone refuses to call my friends who are inside the park. I don´t remember the name of the hostel we´re staying at, and I find out that tickets to Machu Picchu are cash-only. Surprisingly I´m finding myself flexible and happy. At least I´ve had a beautiful train ride.
A couple stares in awe at the ever-changing scenery on the trip from Ollantaytambo to Aguas Calientes, Peru.
In the end, I spend my last ten soles on coffee in a cafe with free wi-fi and bathrooms. My sister has e-mailed me my new pin number, I find the name of my hostel, hit up the ATM, and reunite with my friends. The next morning I get up at 4am (apparently I´m making a habit of this) and take the first bus to Machu Picchu. I hike the whole trail in an hour, watch the sunrise, and make it back for my 8:30am train. I love living inside the graciousness of God.
Made it!
Machu Picchu is pretty incredible. Still, I have to laugh when I hear a tourist behind me say, ¨Wow, I can´t believe the Mayans built this!¨ Me neither. Mostly because they didn´t. But I understand your sentiment. The modern era´s got nothing on the Incas.
Episode One: The Journey Begins [Round-the-World Edition]
*Note: Hey everyone! Robin here. I´m in Lima, Peru this month for the first stop of my round-the-world adventure. Bethany and I will still be posting recipes and food news on BackyardMint, but I´ll also be using this space to talk about my travels over the next few months. Glad to have you along for the ride!
August 5
Began my round-the-world journey at 5am this morning in New York City. As I landed in Costa Rica many hours later I was struck once again by that country´s lush hills and purple-grey mountains rising in the distance. Costa Rica brings to mind off-roading jeep adventures, early morning birding, camping in the primary rain forest and horseback riding on the beach with Mom. I feel my excitement growing as I look out the airport windows, and note the desire to just stay put. My feelings toward Peru are more mixed and messy, much like the country itself. It´s been five years since I´ve set foot in Lima, but I can still feel the virgin hurt of friendships lost and changed. Peru is not a place where I can be a tourist; I know too many people, am too connected to this place. Here I do not have the luxury of sitting by and watching the world through tour bus windows. So I sigh and clip my backpack around my waist. As I walk down the gangplank I commit to openness, flexibility and joy. I welcome the coming adventures (and yes, the hardships) reminding myself that each is an opportunity to know God more. I find my seat and whisper goodbye to the Costa Rican volcanoes. Peru awaits.
Banana-Orange Cocktail
Tonight was another family dinner night at the Backyard Mint household. We kicked off Beth’s last full week of summer by pulling out the coconut rum and making a new cocktail creation. We enjoyed our drinks as we waited for the sushi rice to cool.
Combine two bananas, three cups of orange juice, rum to taste and as many ice cubes as you can fit in your blender. Add in anything else you feel like (Robin decided to add cucumber to hers). Garnish with fresh fruit. Enjoy!
~Robin
Fresh-Picked Peach Cobbler
I had visitors in town this weekend. Instead of doing the normal tourist sites (i.e. Beale St.), we decided to take advantage of the hot July weather and go peach picking. We drove up to Jones Orchard in Millington, TN. They have 110 acres of peaches with 25 different varieties. The weather was sweltering and the peach juice was warm as it ran down our faces. It doesn’t get any better than that.
This is the kind of peach cobbler you get at a Southern church potluck. In fact, this recipe was given to me by my friend Brecken, a preacher’s daughter. Enjoy!
4 cups peeled, sliced peaches
2 cups sugar, divided
1/2 cup water
8 tablespoons butter
1 1/2 cups self-rising flour (*you must you self-rising flour for this recipe to work)
1 1/2 cups milk
Ground cinnamon, optional
Directions
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.
Combine the peaches, 1 cup sugar, and water in a saucepan and mix well. Bring to a boil and simmer for 10 minutes. Remove from the heat. 
Put the butter in a 3-quart baking dish and place in oven to melt.
Mix remaining 1 cup sugar, flour, and milk slowly to prevent clumping. Pour mixture over melted butter. Do not stir. Spoon fruit on top, gently pouring in syrup. Sprinkle top with ground cinnamon, if using. Batter will rise to top during baking. Bake for 30 to 45 minutes.
To serve, scoop onto a plate and serve with your choice of whipped cream or vanilla ice cream
Sweet & Spicy Green Beans
One of my favorite things about Memphis so far is the downtown Farmer’s Market. This week I grabbed some fresh green beans. Then came the eternal question… what to do with them? I threw together this flavorful dish and took it to work with me the next day. All my colleagues commented on the delicious smell, and a few even asked taste it. Rave reviews all around. Not bad for ten minutes work. 
Ingredients:
- 1 pound fresh green beans, trimmed
- 4 tablespoons soy sauce
- 3 cloves garlic, minced
- 1 teaspoon hot sauce
- 2 teaspoon honey
- 2 teaspoons vegetable oil
Directions:
- Steam the green beans for 3 minutes (can use a steamer pot or microwave with loose plastic wrap).
- In a bowl, mix the soy sauce, garlic, hot sauce, and honey.
- Heat the oil in a skillet over medium heat. Add the green beans, and fry for 3 to 5 minutes. Pour in the soy sauce mixture. Continue cooking and stirring 2 minutes, or until the liquid is nearly evaporated.
Food Truck Yummies
My sisters and I had a reunion this weekend at Bonnaroo Music Festival. My middle sister, Lindy, was in charge of food. Unfortunately (or fortunately depending on your perspective) Lindy’s idea of a balanced meal is eating different flavors of Oreos.
Luckily for me, I was able to supplement Lindy’s dried goods with artisan yummies from Food Trucks. Here’s a sampling of what I ate this weekend:
- Greek-style chicken gyro
- Iced orange mocha coffee
- Apple cider donut
- Broccoli Samosa
- Fried Plantains
- Mango limeade
- Chicago-style Italian beef
- Thurman Murman (creole mac & cheese, braised pork, and Kimchi on a Roti flatbread)
- Sweet potato fries
- Hot Amish donut (as big as our heads!)
The Ultimate Cranberry-Orange Scones
- 1 3/4 cups flour
- 3 tablespoons sugar
- 2 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
- 1/2 teaspoon salt
- 5 tablespoons butter, cut into chunks
- 1/2 cup dried cranberries
- 1/3 cup half and half
- 1 tablespoon orange juice
- 1 large egg
- the grated peel of 1 large organge
Preheat the oven to 425°F. Line a baking sheet with parchment (or lightly grease).
1) Combine dry ingredients, then add the butter.
2) Stir in the cranberries.
3) In a separate bowl, whisk together the half and half, orange juice, egg, and orange peel or oil. Add this mixture to the flour mixture and stir till the dough just comes together. (The less you handle scones, the better!)
4) Move the dough to a floured work surface, knead it a couple of times, and shape it into a sphere about 1/2 in. thick.
5) Transfer the dough to the prepared baking sheet. Brush with milk, and sprinkle with white sugar (optional).
6) Cut the dough into 8 wedges (I recommend using a pizza cutter for this step). Separate the wedges slightly.
7) Bake the scones for about 15 minutes, or until they’re golden brown. Remove them from the oven, and serve immediately.
~Robin~
Backyard Mint
Backyard Mint 