Squash the Bolivian Coast Line? - Two interesting articles form the NYT today. . .

Squash the Bolivian Coast Line? - Two interesting articles form the NYT today. . .

First of all there was this little gem about the fact that Don Rumsfeld is an avid squash player. My hunch is that both Leigh and I would easily be able to handle him
http://www.nytimes.com/2006/09/24/washington/24rumsfeld.html?hp&ex=1159070400&en=06c36eba946dad2b&ei=5094&partner=homepage

Then in searching the international section, an article about the very museum that we had visited in La Paz today. It seems that Bolivia has been itching for the last hundred years to get back the piece of coastline that it lost to Chile in a war over bird guano (no joke).
http://www.nytimes.com/2006/09/24/world/americas/24bolivia.html?n=Top%2fNews%2fWorld%2fCountries%20and%20Territories%2fBolivia

In case the links expire, I am going to try to attach word copies of the two articles as well,

Andrew

What we have been reading. . .

When we left, we grabbed a few books that were lying around Leigh´s parents´and Mike-Sue´s place ... (as per Daniela´s request, here is Andrew´s review of the novels we have been reading):

Running With Scissors - Augusten Burroughs
http://www.amazon.com/Running-Scissors-Memoir-Augusten-Burroughs/dp/031242227X/sr=8-1/qid=1159125437/ref=pd_bbs_1/102-9522772-8996928?ie=UTF8&s=books
I found myself laughing out load repeatedly during the first third/half of this book, and then found that it became more and more disturbing. While certainly insightful and witty, this book began to weigh upon me a bit. It reminded me of Kurt Vonnegut http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kurt_Vonnegut and also Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy O'Toole http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Confederacy_of_dunces

The Red Tent - Anita Diamant
http://www.amazon.com/Red-Tent-Anita-Diamant/dp/0312195516/sr=1-1/qid=1159126440/ref=pd_bbs_1/102-9522772-8996928?ie=UTF8&s=books
Although I wasn´t sure that I would enjoy a revisionist post-feminist retelling of biblical stories, I was pleasantly suprised. In addition, the long descriptions of the herds of sheep, the subsequent weaving process, and the primitive agriculture all resonated with what we were observing in small Andean villages. The only thing annoying about this book was the seemingly inexplicable slaughter of Dinah´s betrothed and all of his family by the sons of Jacob. . . Is there anyone out there with a better biblical knowledge that can shed some light?

The Penelopiad - Margaret Atwood
http://www.amazon.com/Penelopiad-Myth-Penelope-Odysseus-Myths/dp/1841957178/sr=1-1/qid=1159128052/ref=pd_bbs_1/102-9522772-8996928?ie=UTF8&s=books
I love the Odyssey, and this revisionist, post-feminist retelling, was sort of dissapointing. In many ways similar to the Red Tent, it tried to flesh out the motivations of Penelope as she waits for Odysseus. . . However, it didn´t quite work. . . It seemed to harp on the "unjust killing" (or even murder) of Penelope's handmaidens by Odysseus and Telemachus. I never felt like Margaret Atwood really was able to get inside Penelope´s head and develop her as a character, which after all was the entire point of the book. Something tells me that she had a great idea for the novel, but that the idea was better than the execution.


As we have travelled around, we have also picked up a few books along the way.

Choke - Chuck Palahniuk
http://www.amazon.com/Choke-Chuck-Palahniuk/dp/0385720920/sr=8-1/qid=1159125508/ref=pd_bbs_1/102-9522772-8996928?ie=UTF8&s=books
Stangely similar to Running with Scissors by Augusten Burroughs, (see above) except that this is no memoir. Because it is a work of fiction Palahniuk is able to take it as far as it needs to go to begin to try to make some social commentary. . . but I am not sure that that commentary is? Certainly he seems to support the idea that [modern american] society is too restrictive, regulated and dismissive of creativity, but I am not sure that he presents a viable alternative, other than psychopathology. Nonetheless, this did result in a number of deep belly laughs, and some knowing smirks of satisfaction and agreement.

Shopgirl - Steve Martin
http://www.amazon.com/Shopgirl-Steve-Martin/dp/B000F5FNPC/sr=1-1/qid=1159126207/ref=pd_bbs_1/102-9522772-8996928?ie=UTF8&s=books
Both Leigh and I really appreciated the way in which Steve Martin was able to peer inside the heads of his characters and write, at times poetically, about a relatively mundane series of epiusodes in the romantic lives of relatively mundane people. This novella was just the right length to cause some thought, some self-reflection, and yet was able to knit tightly together a satisfactory and pleasing conclusion that left me feeling glad to have read it, but also glad to have had my own life rather than that of any of the characters in the story. My only concern is that it was made into a movie, starring, among others, Steve Martin, in precisely the role I didnt want to see him in. . . oh, well thank god its fiction.

Goulds Book of Fish - Richard Flanagan
http://www.amazon.com/Goulds-Book-Fish-Novel-Twelve/dp/0802139590/sr=1-1/qid=1159129616/ref=pd_bbs_1/102-9522772-8996928?ie=UTF8&s=books
I picked this up thinking that it would be about fish. It wasnt, but it had some truly great passages, particularly in the first quarter or third of the book.

La Paz and Rosh Hashana

23-24 September 2006

We arrived in LaPaz on Rosh Hashana day. Having completely lost track of time, we forgot it was Erev Rosh Hashana on the 22nd. Therefore, we quickly looked online and found that there is or was a small Jewish community in La Paz, where we were headed.

We got on a public bus in the morning, leaving Copacabana for the big city. The ride was gorgous, following Lake Titicaca for a while, then (to our suprise) crossing it on a bus ferry!

So, when we arrived in the city on the 23rd, we changed into our most acceptable dressed-up travel clothing and ran out to find the two sites that we found addresses for... The first site was a school, where (possibly) a janitor informed us that we should go around the corner to the ¨House of Jews¨... odd, we thought. So after some significant searching, we eventually found the ¨House of Jews¨, which is the location that I understood to be the synagogue. On the wall, was drawn a Star of David, an equal sign, and a Swastika (see image above). As the building was locked, we rang the doorbell, but to no avail. Someone happened to be opening the door, we asked him if there were services, and he informed us that the inhabitants had moved to a site approximately 10Km away. Many times, we had been informed of the danger of taxis and other public transport in La Paz, and since this man could not give us an exact address, we chose to celebrate the New Year with a good meal and a trip to the Contemporary Art Museum (parts of the building were designed by Eiffel - which parts, were unclear). (For Yom Kippur services, we will call ahead to the community in Cochabamba...)

La Paz is quite a site - our first city with high rise buildings, but they are contrasted with old colonial-style buildings right next to them. In addition, the city is in a valley, completely surrounding by hills which are full of housing (an inverse San Francisco?).

So. . . I ate the Cuy (Guinea Pig)

Actually this happened a couple weeks ago back when we were still in Arequipa, land of beautiful restaurants. I am not sure whether it is common knowledge that Cuy (actually a slightly different breed of Guinea Pig than is used for pets) is a traditional food in the Peruvian/Andean highlands. Leigh and I had seen them running about live in small pens by people´s houses, but I hadn´t been really tempted. We also saw one resting post-oven when we were in Pisac, but that also hadn´t caused my palate to beckon.

Unfortunately the evening in question, we hadn´t brought our camera with us, the cuy (pronounced kwee) did completely mesmerize a British couple sitting next to us who began to take photos. . . they promised that they will send us the pics once they return from their trip. So, it is true, the picture of the cuy on this page is not in fact my own, however, it is no sort of blog-fiction. I cannot tell a lie, I ate the cuy.

Luckily? the restaurant where we were eating was a pretty up scale place in Arequipa. (our dinner cost nearly 20 dollars which was more than our hotel). This, I figured, assured that the cuy was fresh, and would be less likely to have plague, hantavirus, or any other sort of rodent-to-human communicable diseases. However, this also meant that the kitchen was glassed in and we could watch the food preparation, much to my sudden chagrin.

Luckily? the slaughtering of a rodent that I was sure I was about to witness, did not take place. Instead, one of the chefs disappeared into a back room and almost immediately appeared with what looked like a cross between a rat and a whippet http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Whippet, luckily the cuy appeared to have already met its maker, and been skinned in pre-preparation. The chef, with a knowing look towards me, proceeded to splay it open, plop it into a large wok-like pot, and place a large stone on top of it. (I was later informed that without the weight on it´s back, the cuy tends to return to a semi-fetal position, which is considered unappetizing (perhaps due to the general homology shared by all mammalian fetuses?)

Although its initial appearance was a bit off-putting, after I did a bit of gawking, elevated my plate, and slowly rotated it to get a view from a few different angles, I began to be able to conceptualize eating this small beast. Like all deep fried things, it emitted a savory aroma, that seemed to beckon, "don´t worry, I am crackly and tasty." A glance into the kitchen did not improve my confidence, however, as the the chefs and waitstaff were now alternately pointing at me through the glass and laughing openly. In order to try to salvage some dignity, I tried to casually pick up my knife and fork and cut off a small piece from one of the rear legs. It looked sort of like a chicken leg, I reasoned, and therefore it seemed the most manageable.

I even prepared my taste-buds. . . "everything tastes like chicken," I silently intoned, "this must taste like chicken". . ."everything tastes like chicken, this must taste like chicken". . . "everything tastes like chicken, this must taste like chicken." After repeatedly muttering this mantra under my breath with each saw of my knife I was ready for the first bite. Leigh looked on dubiously (my attempts to have her and I take a first bite together had failed - saying disdainfully "It looks too much like the rats that I do my experiments on," she had dismissed my invitation.) I raised the fork towards my mouth, saw a blur in the kitchen, which I figured was one of the waiters doubling over with mirth, closed my eyes and began to chew. The taste was very similar to duck, not bad.

But wait! As I opened my eyes, I saw that the chefs and waitstaff in the kitchen were no longer laughing in a good natured way, instead they leaned towards the glass looking somewhat concerned, peering intently at me as the blur, which I had mistakenly identified just before closing my eyes, suddenly loomed larger in my peripheral vision, and I recognized it as one of the waiters, speed walking towards me, cloth flapping in the breeze behind me.

My one thought was, I haven´t swallowed yet. As he covered the last few leaping strides to the table my mind raced, 1) I have eaten a mouthful of the poisonous part of the cuy 2) I have eaten a mouthful of small bones which will immediately cause appendicitis 3) I have mistakenly eaten the bowels, which are impossible to entirely vacate before cooking. . . other ideas too disgusting to mention also washed over me much like the terror the cuy itself must have faced in its final moments.

As I nervously chewed my first bite of cuy, it was now far more than adequately masticated, and I was concerned that I would need to move the bolus into one cheek, thereby beginning to resemble the very food that I ate, the waiter arrived. He leaned his head towards mine conspiratorially while the staff continued to peer at me ominously. "¡De mano, señor! Por favor, no come un cuy con tenedor y cuchillo. ¡De mano!" (With your hands! Sir! Please, don´t eat the cuy with a fork and knife. With your hands!)

Mostly out of relief, but trying not to show it too obviously, I swallowed, did my best to casually replace my knife and fork on the table and gingerly reached forward to hold a front leg with my left hand, and rear leg with my right. As though having just witnessed a small baby crawl into the middle of the road only to appear unharmed after passing underneath a truck, the kitchen staff visibly seemed relieved and sagged back from the window, no longer frozen, their easy banter soon returning, occasionally jerking a thumb in my direction and eliciting a snicker.

I will not wax poetic over the remainder of the alternating joys and awkward moments that arose during the ingesting of the cuy. I am sure that you can imagine more than sufficiently the complications which can arise when eating a small rodent. If you are having trouble imagining, come to Peru.

Andrew

Copacabana & Isla del Sol

Copacabana:




















Isla del Sol:







21-22 September 2006

Copacabana, I think, is like many other border towns : strange. Regardless, we had a nice day of exploring the city. We hiked an odd odd peak that had the 12 stations of the cross represented in large sculptures all the way up, but we were rewarded because at the top were magnificent views of Lake Titicaca and the city.

We visited the local Cathedral, the Basilica of Our Lady of Copacabana, quite beautiful; oddly, its construction reminded us of a mosque. Andrew was particularly fascinated in the rules and regulations, posted outside the front door, in order to be married at this site. Typical of the cathedrals we have seen, it was incredibly ornate. There was something special about one of the chapels in this church. We weren´t sure but out of approximately 8 people we saw in the church, 3 of them had eye patches on. We could only surmise that the Virgin of Copacabana honored in one of the chapels, was special for curing eye problems? Quite odd indeed. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Basilica_of_Our_Lady_of_Copacabana

We then traveled to Isla del Sol, a large island 2 hours off the coast of Copacabana. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Isla_Del_Sol There, we hiked-walked for about 4 hours and witnessed gorgeous views of the Lake, some Incan ruins, much terracing, and some fishing.