Caught in the Rain

            I have been working doing family surveys of a handful of people in both my main community of Levanto as well as the annexes of our town. We have three annexes which are small communities up to an hours walk away that all fall under the same municipality. As of last Wednesday I had visited all but one of the annexes, this one happened to be the farthest away and thus I had been saving it for a day that came with a lot of motivation. All the sudden on this particular Wednesday I was overcome by this just after lunch so I put my coat on and asked my host mom how to get there. She looked at me confused and clarified ‘you want to go to Qachuc now, in the afternoon?’ Well yeah clearly that’s why I was asking how to get there! She proceeded to reason with me by telling me I was crazy, the path was too muddy, and I would be back at dark if I left now; better to get up early, eat some breakfast, and go tomorrow with an early start.  I saw her reasoning as if I left early enough I could catch the people before they headed out to the farms anyways. So that was that, I had no choice but to put off my motivation until the next morning with the goal of leaving the house by 7:30.

            Unfortunately Thursday morning came and I didn’t drag myself out of bed until 7:45. Embarrassed I head out of my room to the bathroom with sleepy hair and tired eyes. My host dad, about to leave to work on the farm, had waited just long enough to be able to comment on my lateness exaggerating that it was 9:00am and I was just waking up! Laughing him off I get myself ready quickly and as I sit down for breakfast my mom implies that we will be going to the annex together as she proclaims ‘lets get going to Qachuc’. It is hard to drink burning hot tea quickly but I’ve gotten pretty good at the aggressively stirring technique to aerate the tea and cool it down to a drinkable temperature. The skill is somewhat useless and seems somehow very American for every time I feel like I should be in a hurry here I end up rushing to wait some more. At the time however it seemed my host mom was ready to leave and wanted to get going, it turned out she was going to harvest some carrots and beets on a farm that was in the direction of Qachuc so she would walk with me part of the. This was a slight relief because it meant I could follow her on the trails, which were much faster than walking along the main road. I finished up my tea and bread and got my boots on. I have a pair of three quarter height boots from the states that are rubber at the foot and then waterproof fabric for the ankle bit. They get a lot of attention here because they are different from the normal black rain boots that everyone wears, and they are super lightweight. These facts both make the Peruvians jealous but also weary constantly warning me that a spine is going to go through them and stab me. The biggest problem for me is that the have no tread and the mud her gets like slick clay when it’s wet. Anyways I put on my boots, knowing the trail will be muddy, and go out to see if my host mom is ready. Well predictably I end up waiting for her for 15 minutes before we are set and ready to go.

            This trip confirmed that I really should invest in the black rubber boots and leave my slightly more stylish boots for times of paved road rain walking. My mom walk-jogged ahead of me in the mucky paths as I slowly and careful picked my way trying not to fall on my bottom thus making a fool of myself. Every few minutes my host mom would look back laugh and wait for me, commenting on how I need to buy better boots. We proceeded in this manner for 20 minutes, down to a small river and up the other side of the valley. As we approached a fork in the road my host mom described to me how I would proceed up the hill to the road, then walk on the road for a while until I came to a big house with two water tanks in front of it. At this house I would take the right hand path and proceed until I reached Qachuc. She meanwhile would be taking the lower path to the farm where she would be harvesting vegetables. My lunch was prepped back at the house for when I got back home, all I had to do was turn on the gas stove. Easy enough I thought so we split ways and I headed up the path to the main road.

            Upon reaching the road there was a man sitting on the side taking a break chewing on some coca leaves; the stimulant of choice. We greeted each other and he inquired about where I was headed alone. Funny enough he happened to be headed in the same direction. Once again I found myself with company but this time since we were on the road I could keep up with his stride. We went through the classic conversation topics: where was I from, how many were there in my family, is it true they speak only English in America. We talked about if I was used to the environment in Levanto yet, how long I was going to be here and how long I had been here. We touched on my single status and weather I was going to marry a Peruvian, which led us to my age and that I was still young. We even got to the topic of rain and if there was any rain in the United States, if the United States was made up of only cities or if there were farms, and how much my family must miss me since I was so far away. For thirty minutes we kept up impressive conversation if I do say so myself. At the large house we took the path, which proved to be muddy and full of deep puddles where my companion showed me how to squeeze along the sides and jump from rock to rock in order to get through and before I knew it we were approaching the town. At an old Incan ruin site we talked about how there was no money to clean up the ruins in the area and then he split off to his farm and I headed down the hill to the town.

            It was around 10:00am by the time I reached town, much later than I had anticipated and the farmers were already out in the fields. I convinced myself that just the walk alone was worth my time and I didn’t have anything better to do but to explore the area. So I went to the only open door I could see, a small store front and figured I would get at least one survey done. The woman graciously invited me into her home and I sat down to find out she had lived in Lima for 10 years before moving back here, she has one 9 year old daughter who was eager for attention, and she herself delivers recyclables from her house to Chachapoyas to sell, the first person I had met that does this! After our interview the little girl offered to be my guide through town as we hunted for more people to survey. She took me to all her aunts’ houses, her grandma’s house, and her cousin’s house, and by the end we had visited most houses and successfully found a few people actually home to interview. We re-visited one aunt on the way back just to look at the pigs again and then the rain started to fall. Lightly but enough to makes us run back to the little girl’s house and take cover. We put on some Alvin and the Chipmonks singing to Peruvian songs and waited for the rain to pass. Alvin’s lips did not quite line up to the songs he did have some pretty sweet dance moves that we tried to mimic fairly unsuccessfully.

            Finally there was a break in the rain and I decided to make a run for it. I thanked the mother for her hospitality, and the young girl disappointed in seeing me going told me if I left now I could never come back, and with that I was off. The trail was slick and I debated taking the main road all the way back but not wanting to get stuck in the rain I went for the faster route. I munched on the apple my host mom had sent me with as I joyfully headed down the path feeling accomplished that I had gotten so many interviews out of what originally looked like an ill planned trip. Just when I was getting to full of myself and my confidence was growing the rain came again, this time not so gently. I found myself in a full-blown downpour, the cloud had taken over our mountain and essentially the air I was breathing was rain. In a flash the trail turned into a river, and I was soaked to the bone. My boots filled up with dirty water fortunately warmed by my body temperature. I gave up any attempt to walk carefully, and took on the mini lakes that filled the path cutting straight through the middle and running up the other side. Farmers who had been out in the field were crouched down under personal plastic coverings as the watched the crazy gringa running through the rain.

            Finally I reached the intersection of the path with the road at the large house and here I found a farm gate with a roof, where another fellow was waiting out the rain. He had been riding his motorcycle into town when the rain hit, and it was coming down so hard he had no choice but to pull over and take cover. I joined him standing on the gate huddled under the roof as we watched the rainfall and covered most of the above mentioned conversation topics. For 45 minutes we watched if fall, my heartbeat slowed letting the cold seep in, but I hung to the gate and waited. The fields were saturated with water and the sky gave no signs of letting up. Finally it seemed that the rain was slightly lighter and I decided that in order to prevent myself from freezing I better run along the main road back home, hoping for a car to drive by and pick me up, and realizing that the paths were muddy rivers it would be faster by road. I strapped my backpack tight to my back, stuffed my cell phone into my bra, as this seemed the driest place, and started a nice jog. The road was raised enough and had enough rocks in it that it wasn’t too slippery, but there was a raging flashflood creek on the side of the road that would every so often cross of the road washing it out completely. My heartbeat started picking up again and I once again felt high on adventure, feeling as if I could conquer the rain. Just to keep me in check I suppose the downpour started up again and I had to duck into the shelter of an abandoned house. Leaning against the outside wall under the overhang of the metal roof I watched the water pour off the hillside in waterfalls.  I was just dozing into a daydream when a young boy climbing the side fence to the house startled me awake. His family apparently was waiting out the rain on the other side of the house and in his boredom he discovered me. We exchanged a few sentences about how strong the rain was and then he slithered off back to his family’s hole.

I waited planning my break for it, and once again feeling the cold overtake me. One of my English students rode by on his horse giving me inspiration to make a run for it. One foot in front of the other, the water sloshing in my boots, my bright blue flowered rain coat standing out against the mountains, I made my way home. On the road to my house I saw two young girls that I usually give high fives to waiting expectantly with their hands outstretched. I didn’t have it in me, my hands were tingling and I could barely move them, I made a sad a attempt at an air high five as their faces fell knowing they weren’t going get the full satisfaction of a true high five.  None the less my head was focused on getting into my room, stripping off my clothes, drying myself, and putting on at least three layers of pants and shirts. I fumbled with the key as my hands had lost function, but relief came over me, as I knew I had survived the adventure. I heated up my lunch and drank four cups of apple tea, finally feeling warmed to the heart. They don’t lie when they say it is rainy season here!