If one of the goals of this summer is to challenge ourselves and confront our fears, then we more than succeeded today.
We started with basket weaving. Some people had cancelled their lesson with a master basket weaver at the last minute, and the three of us and Jacob had the chance to fill in. Want to learn to weave a basket this morning? Sure, why not.
First of all, shoutout to Pancho. Pancho is an expert basket weaver who spent four hours with us as we struggled to create objects remotely resembling baskets. He only lost his patience a few times, and just shook his head when we repeatedly mangled our creations. Pancho was the man.
I wouldn´t say we expected it to be easy, but when we saw a pile of straw twigs and realized we had to turn them into a basket, it kind of hit us that it could take a while. There were many steps to the process, and most of us failed at least once at every step. Jarrard had some particular difficulty, and kept breaking his twigs, which was a big no-no. Pancho would frequently look over at Jarrard´s basket and say very tersely ¨No. Es mal.¨ Eventually they made up. Pancho said his basket was a ¨new model.¨
We got twiggy stuff all over us and our baskets certainly did not turn into anything one would purchase. But it was a fun and relaxing way to spend the morning. And Jacob and Jarrard´s host families thought the boys had bought the baskets. Oddly enough.
Jarrard weaves, I hang out, as Pancho looks on skeptically.
The baskets make good hats too.
Pancho was nice enough to pose with us and our finished products. Note his Obama hat.
Halfway done.
Pancho helps us get started.
Jacob is sad his basket isn´t working out.
So after facing our creative fears in the morning, we faced a different kind of challenge in the afternoon. People have been telling us practically since we got here about the ¨pelear del torros,¨ or bullfights, happening this Sunday.
There´s a bullfighting ring in the town with raised seating around the perimeter, so we innocently assumed that they would hold the fight there. Our host family told us it wasn´t gory, so we were prepared for a lazy afternoon of watching a few bulls run around the ring.
Wrong. So very, very wrong.
You know how in Spain, with the Running of the Bulls, people ridicule the idiots who run around on the ground with the bulls? This is what the entire town of Ollanta did today. Run around with bulls. Of course we joined in.
They converted an entire soccer field at the edge of town into the center of the action, and tied up the approximately fifteen or twenty bulls to a stone wall encircling the field. Most people stood a safe distance away on top of the wall. But where´s the fun in that?
We decided to head down to the field where the fights were taking place and join the less timid specators encircling the fight. Very brave, or stupid, men led the bulls to the center of the field where they would begin to fight. We learned today that the difference between brave and stupid is very slight.
The animals themselves were awe-inspiring. At least 1,800 lbs each, they looked about as mean and stupid as it´s possible for an animal to be. They were quite simply massive. And were screaming with rage pretty much the entire time.
Trainers and local boys whipped and kicked the bulls to make them angry, and then set them loose on each other in the field. After locking horns for a few minutes, the bull to retreat first was deemed the loser.
The real reason people were entertained by this multi-hour event was that after fighting each other, the bulls would charge out of the ring towards the people standing around the edges, releasing some pent-up anger.
We decided that since we were with so many Peruvian women and children and babies maybe 50 feet from the bulls, there would be solidarity in numbers. Every time a bull rushed towards people, everyone would scream and scatter, picking up babies and beer bottles as they ran.
It was maybe the most dangerous and ridiculous thing I´ve ever seen. And by far the most exciting.
Jarrard kept telling us that the way to make the bull not charge at you was to wave your hands and look really big. Let me tell you, when the bull came near us, the last thing I planned to do was stand still and wave my arms.
When one did charge near us, Kelsey and I just ran with the crowd. Jarrard somehow ended up in a ditch and claimed he waved his hands and encouraged the bull to turn away. He did take many pictures of the sky to prove it.
The animals usually made it to the edge of the field before being apprehended. When the trainers finally caught hold of the animals, they would approach them slowly before quickly grabbing them by the horns. As I said, the difference between stupid and brave is slim.
Big animal.
Fighting.
The fighting area from a safer distance.
Leading the unhappy bull to the ring.
People watching from a safe distance above, and a few of the bulls tied up below.
Postcards From Peru 