Learning Spanish, and a week-end in the Cordillera de Los Andes mountains – by Yvette

Before describing recent peregrinations, I wanted to share some thoughts I wrote awhile back about learning another language. . . .

Humanity of words

To know another language is to have another soul. (Charlemagne)

Language captures our sameness, with “doing” words, and words that wait to be done to. And time—things we did before, are doing, will do.

On learning a new way to speak, I am a toddler again, my reality is present and selfish. I want, I eat, I go, I am. No nuance, no sense of bad words, ‘cuz they don’t sound bad to me. A blank slate.

And on a grander scale, languages map how we relate—organic growth of trunk, branch, twig, some words shared and others not, some polite here and there not—fed by colonial power, political manipulation, economic struggle, media battles, and then tangled by desire, beauty, experience.

And, here’s what we did a few week-ends ago, hiking around Sucre . . .

Got to the bus around 7:45am Saturday morning, was supposed to leave at 9:30am according to our book, but they said get there early because it fills up. We wanted to go to either Potolo or Maragua, then walk to the other. No buses to Maragua cause the road was bad, so signed up to go to Potolo. They told us right away that instead of the normal 2.5 hours, it would take ~5 because we’d have to wait for road construction. Yep, about 35 mins out of Sucre we stopped, waited from 10-12am when, right on schedule, they opened the gate and let what was now about 20 vehicles thru the construction area. Some of the worst road we’ve been on (I think the vehicles act as caterpillars to flatten bumpy parts post-construction), but beautiful views and our driver (as has been my feeling on almost all the vehicles we’ve been on here, in Syria and in Laos) was careful on the narrow roads with steep drops. SO . . . . got to Potolo around 2:30pm. Neil was very eager to ask around if they had some textiles as there are very distinctive textiles. The textiles are showcased in the museum here in Sucre at up to $500 (yes, US) for some items, very fine double-sided weaving. So we spent an hour being led to a couple of houses by a little boy, to no success (saw some weaving in-progress but only smaller items were available for sale), then hit the trail. We’d heard reports as varied as 2 hours to 7 hours between the towns, so knew we were pushing daylight. Kept getting varied reports on the trail, too (2 hours! Only 1! 3!) Of course compounded by both the fact that the trail was VERY easily lost (lots of goat / sheep trails, little creekbeds, etc.), and most people speak very little Spanish, mostly local Quechua. Anyway, several helpful people (we thought) pointed out the path at times, they were generally out there herding there sheep or working their fields of wheat, quinoa, corn.

Anyway, we walked pretty quickly until just after 7pm. The altitude is high, around 3700m, so on the uphill portions we were having to slow in order to breathe. Somewhere around here we realized we’d forgotten our flashlight. We were trying thru the afternoon to remember when the moon’s been rising recently. Anyway, as night was falling around 7pm we asked at a house we passed how many hours to Maragua and she quite clearly said 2-2.5, and that we should wait there at her house while she got her husband. Shortly her son and husband showed up, offered that we could eat there and then sleep nearby for a small price. While I (Yvette) was a bit disappointed not to get to the supposed showers and tourist cabanas, I agreed with Neil that it was the better part of wisdom. Really a very good choice, as we otherwise likely would’ve spent the night out (two Italian guys we met did). So, a hot “Wheat Soup” (I think just wheat flour thickened into a white sauce, seasoned a bit not sure with what, and potatoes chopped up in it, but warm, hearty and relatively flavorful) accompanied our cookies and apples we’d snacked on a bit earlier. Then, off to a little building they’ve built nearby to house tourists such as ourselves, where there were two mattresses we unrolled onto a stone floor, and 3 wool blankets (seemed relatively clean tho I found a flea on me in the morning, and little nibbles later—hmm). Was grateful for the clean smartwool socks and longjohns I’d brought along. I used some precious drinking water to wash my hands and brush my teeth. Then early in the morning back to their house for a breakfast of hot tea and toasted plain wheat from their field—eaten much like roasted soybeans. Flavorful but probably not a breakfast I’ll seek out. The dad was quite comfy with tourists, even speaks a couple of English phrases in addition to fairly simple Spanish ( better than ours, but not by a lot). We filled out his tourist registry (monitoring and evaluation officers be proud!!). Apparently he’s the “responsible man/authority” somehow for the village, including having the key to the cabanas. The reason they’re there, I think, is because about 25 meters away is a rock face that includes some dinosaur footprints. Also some better-known ones about 1 km away. So in the morning he took us to see both of those, then walked with us to where the path on to Maragua was quite discernable, and sent us on our way—all for $6.50 (we gave him $10). The most disappointing moment was when he asked us which direction we’d come from, from Potolo (“this side or that side?”) Apparently there are two routes from Potolo—the long one and the short one. We’d taken the long one, darn it.

Anyway, walked the trail from 7:45am-9:30am, arrived in Maragua and asked around for textiles and a restaurant to have an early lunch. The sole “tienda house” (“They have beer!” we were told) in town agreed to whip up some rice, potatoes and eggs for us. Yummy, hit the spot and we also drank 1 liter each (yes, really) of Fanta. Asked around for textiles but again, not much luck. We’ll have to get it here at the Museum in Sucre, which is still good for the artesans tho not quite as direct. Also met the nurse in the town of Maragua, a lovely and very helpful women named Carmen, I told her I was a nurse too, and she immediately asked for my contact info. Will be interesting to see if I hear from her. We talked re: obstetric emergencies and what backup she has, what the major problems are (beyond that one, upper respiratory illness and diarrhea for the kids). Very nice and responsible-seeming lady. Anyway, took off again around 11:30am and reached the next town where we hoped to get public transport around 2pm. Had to ford a hip-high, fast river that nearly knocked me over! Fortunately didn’t. Sat by the road for a whole 5 minutes before a car came along, agreed we could hop in the back for a ride to Sucre. A 1984 Datsun that had definitely seen better days. The road was REALLY bad in parts. We had to get out for certain parts to make the car ride higher. When it stalled, the car was kick-started, usually by rolling it in reverse on the steep parts. Also stopped at a creek to drain and refill the radiator to keep it from overheating. Rather vintage, but it got us here! And the driver was very courteous (and safe), he zoomed in front of a bus here in town, went half a block and let us jump out to catch a bus that brought us directly home.