Yesterday’s later-than-desired start meant we didn’t arrive into Izcuchaca until 4pm, and knowing that we had an even-more-challenging day to follow it, we had raised the possibility of revising our plan before we were even done with Day 1’s pedaling (presumably by splitting Day 2 into a Day 2 and Day 3). But when Rett saw our “premium” hotel room, perched between the train tracks and the river, she immediately proposed a better idea: stay a second night here in this should-be-a-tourist-town, rest up and explore a bit, and then get a very early start to tackle our itinerary as-planned, just delayed by a day.
Our room (#401) at Hotel Santa Eugenia. The wraparound windows were the biggest luxury element, and it is so warm down in this valley, we actually needed to keep them open at night so we didn’t get too *hot*! (still not fancy enough for a toilet seat though!)
Yesterday in the shower, when I raised my arm to adjust the knob, I felt a tingle through my elbow. No surprise that I randomly twinged a sensitive nerve, I just rode my bike for five hours on sometimes-bumpy gravel, after all. I wouldn’t have even remembered it, if I hadn’t felt the same electrical tingle a second time. Except wait, I used my other arm to turn the knob the second time. That required a bit more investigation…”bzzt”, there it went again!
At least half the showers in Peru are the type colloquially referred to as “suicide showers”, due to the (insulated, but otherwise unsheathed) electrical wires running haphazardly from a hole in the wall to the shower head, usually with some bits of electrical tape covering the connections floating six inches above my head. Effectively the shower head is an instant on-demand electric hot-water heater, used in the (frequent) cases where there is no centralized form of water heating in the building. I’ve never been too concerned about the safety of them, figuring that if people regularly were getting electrocuted, they wouldn’t be so popular. But now I’m at least a bit more wary, and made sure to precisely make contact with the plastic knob rather than the metal escutcheon for any adjustments after that! (the shock wasn’t too bad, similar to licking a 9-volt battery.)
More construction that probably wouldn’t pass US building codes: to descend from our 4th floor room, it was down the two flights to the right, then cross under the staircase that I’m standing on to get where Rett is, then down one more and cross back left to right under the whole thing a final time. All while making sure not to bash your head on the floating concrete, and minding all the little ramps and mini-steps mixed in to the business.The Colonial Bridge of Izcuchaca, built in 1808, feels like the oldest non-native structure that we’ve seen in Peru.Walking back to Izcuchaca’s town square from our hotel; the buildings that line this “street” seem to have no idea that it’s not a normal street, and that only pedestrians (and at one point, trains) can travel down it.I thought I had seen this bird briefly hovering around our hotel room balcony yesterday, but dismissed it as just a trick of the wind, since it seemed far too large to be a hummingbird. But that’s because it’s a Northern Giant Hummingbird, the largest species of hummingbird!The Colonial Bridge over the Mantaro River, seen from the modern bridge just a bit to its south.The view downriver from the modern bridge into Izcuchaca. A very nice riverwalk runs along the right bank.The core of Izcuchaca is only a few blocks, but there are several narrow winding alleyways that really give it an Old World feel. Rett climbs up the tower on the Colonial Bridge. These steep stairs, with nothing but the low rail between you and the river 60 feet below, were much more nerve-wracking to descend.If you made it into the water rather than being broken on the rocks, the river would quickly tear you downstream, because it was really flowing here. The constant roar was a good white-noise machine in our hotel room.It could be Italy (or I suppose Spain, but I’ve never been to Spain).#FindRett in the tower, and find the Hollywood-style Izcuchaca sign towering much higher.Izcuchaca, a beautiful town in a beautiful setting.
Most of the town is on the west side of the river, but we crossed the Colonial Bridge to visit an “artisanal” bakery on the highway (the roadside wood-fired brick ovens seem to be a specialty of the area, we passed a few others yesterday). We had been hearing the echo of a beating drum all morning long, but this is not unusual in Peru, so it barely registered, until we realized that we were approaching the source of the celebration. Just off the landing of the bridge, a group of men in gray suits were providing the music, while a circle of women in brightly-colored dresses were dancing in the middle of the highway.
A mid-highway celebration of music and dance (with this violin/harp(!!) duo playing while the rest of the band takes a break).
Stumbling upon this bit of local culture (before noon on a Thursday) was something that would happen in the movie version of our “this town is cute, let’s spend an extra day here” idea, but hardly was expected in real life. But then after less than a minute of watching the festivities, the Hollywood producers turned the Technicolor even brighter: one of the dancing women began beckoning for me to join them. I begged off, citing the need to get pictures, and sent Rett in my stead. I think it was a good trade for everyone involved.
Rett welcomed into the group of dancing Izcuchca women like an old friend.“We have captured a gringa! Now let’s get her some beer!”Don’t worry, Rett isn’t the only one drinking, and I’m not the only one taking pictures of Rett drinking!These ladies were passing around several bottles of beer as they danced, and regularly refilling little cups. But they were most-generous with Rett’s cup (and eventually they passed one to me too). The girl on the right knew some English, and seemed to enjoy the opportunity to practice it a bit.The pretty hats complimented the wonderful dresses.More dancing requires more noon-on-a-Thursday beer!Again, this is all happening right in the middle of a National Highway, and vehicles just have to go around.It turns out there were men dancing too, they just didn’t stand out as much as the women. Though they were all nicely-dressed too, and also wearing hats.The circular dance was a popular form.It’s rare that Rett is the least-glamorous belle at the ball, but I’m glad that she ignored that and just enjoyed herself (as she is clearly doing!)Another dance partner for Rett (and, that’s a lot of saxophones!)Dancing in the middle of a highway under towering mountains on a Thursday morning, that’s just life in Peru, and we’re so lucky to be invited into it!All lined up, hats on, and ready to march.
After 30 minutes of fun, and declining offers for my fourth beer fill-up, we let the crew head off without us. Some of us have actual work to do today (mostly collecting groceries and cooking back on our hotel balcony), and we can’t just go gallivanting around town all day like these folks! Even though I tried to ask multiple times (in Spanish) why they were celebrating, I never got any answer besides “it’s tradition!” Ok, good enough for me! I’m just glad we were invited to participate in this bit of Peruvian culture in which the language-barrier was easily-surmountable. And also amazed at our luck. Because it’s not like this was a “traditional” performance that the workers at the resort do every night at dinner and then invite the foreigners up give them a memory beyond sunburn and overpriced drinks. Izcuchaca is a place that sees very few foreigners at all, so this performance was entirely for themselves, but they were happy to include us nonetheless. The people of Peru continue to make it difficult to determine whether it is the land or its inhabitants that are more amazing.
The band leaves their seats as the whole song-and-dance becomes mobile (even the harp!) and travels down the highway.The celebrants wave hats as they cross the modern bridge into Izcuchaca.This kitten had been watching the whole celebrationIzcuchaca, like the apocryphal “girl who doesn’t know how pretty she is”, could be an international tourist destination, but it seems to not realize that or care.Waiting for the non-existent train to arrive at Izcuchaca Station, with the town square on the other side of the tracks (and the celebration now moved there).Izcuchaca, thank you for having us!
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