Incas And Vikings

After the touristy Mancora fiasco, I decided to go and seek well, a more genuine Peruvian experience. With that said, leaving Mancora was pretty hard. Everyone together, from anywhere and everywhere and with the same goal: travel the world and frolic in the warmth and richness of life. And well, maybe throw in a little substance abuse while you're at it. I'm not sure how I did it but I managed to pull myself away, but only with the comforting thought that another fiasco is not at all difficult to find when in Peru.

Piura, Chiclayo, Cajamarca, Chachapoyas.

Now, the names of these cities are not important except that I visited them in 6 days. I would however, like to draw your attention to possibly my most favoritist of these, Cajamarca.

It was there in Cajamarca that I stood in a restaurant, buying the umpteenth chicken sandwich because I adore them a considerable amount everywhere in Peru. Suddenly I heard a raspy voice behind me proclaim quite loudly, "Gosh yer purty!" My immediate reaction was, "Well just hang on a minute, that wasn't spanish." I turned around and saw the first white person I had set eyes on in what seemed a decade. Tall, gangly, scruffy mustache and aviator sunglasses. This was how I met John. John is travelling South America alone at the age of 70. He lives in Alaska, spent 4 years in the marines and 38 years as a seaman. This man has seen and heard more things than I could possibly imagine, he has lived and been everywhere I can think of, some of his stories I could never repeat, and I am positive he has lived 4 lifetimes over.

John - What's yer name?

Me - I'm Bailey Skaret.

John - Yer last name, that norwegian?

Me - Yes, how did you know that..

John - Shit I respect the hell outta all ya's from Norway. And yer all the goddamn hell out here, travellin alone? Yer tough as shit. Fuckin Viking.

The reason I so adored Cajamarca is not just because I met the Alaskan veteran that should possibly be institutionalized, but also because of the enthralling historical site I found myself to have inhabited. Remember the Incas? The ones who built Machu Picchu? Well the ruler of the Inca Empire was named Atahualpa. It was there in the city of Cajamarca that the capture, abuse and murder of Atahualpa took place.

John - "Trust me. We are put on this earth, to fart around."

I found this next bit to be very interesting. Atahualpa was on his way to claim his throne which was the Inca Empire (Machu Picchu being but a small part of it) when he ran into the leader of the Spanish conquest, the bad spanish guy Pizarro. This bad spanish guy captured the poor Inca man, and held him captive in Cajamarca's main temple. The poor Inca man pleaded with the bad spanish guy, offering a room filled with gold and silver in exchange for his freedom, but it never worked. The spanish were after control of the Incas, they were going to burn him alive. He begged them to at least strangle him instead, because the Incas believed their soul could not reach the afterlife if their body were burned. And so they did, right there in the square, beneath the water fountain.

John - "Honey, I haven't eaten in 4 days. I went on a yahoo and spent all my money partyin. Now I gotta wait for my pension cheque to come through so I can do it all over again."

Peru was the birthplace of the rodent we know as guinea pig, or 'cuy' as the peruvians call it. Here it is a vital source of protein, is used for medicinal purposes, and is a peruvian religious sacrifice. I had an inkling to ingest this delightful morsel for a considerable amount of time, and of course there is no better time to do this than when in South America in the company of a 70 year old who hasn't eaten in 4 days. Obviously. And so, John and I sat down on the side of some road, the middle of rural Peru, eating guinea pig.

John - "You know what you are, is a mustang. You know what the hell a mustang is? A wild horse that can't be tamed."

John and I also visited the funeral residence of the Incas, also located in Cajamarca. (Quick 6km out of town.) I will not be long winded about this, I will just say it was absolutely fascinating to see how they buried people back then. A massive rock/boulder/hard thing, with the smallest of open-faced square tombs, (they were covered until the site was recently discovered) so perfectly cut for each individual's remains to be snugly piled inside. Quite nifty if you ask me. That's one way to save on rent.

Pause for a moment. I just threw a plethora of information at you, a history textbook has knocked you on your pretty little noggins. Please forgive me.

For any of the mildly intrigued, I will reveal to you that I am headed east. This is no accident. I am not at the border yet, therefore what awaits me will remain anonymous. But I will tell you that it rhymes with the word, "Amazon." Wait. That is the word.

John - "Honey, you just go right ahead and have yerself a helluva time wherever yer goin. Viking, you go grab yerself the best goddamn adventure of yer life and hang on the shit out of it. Ya only got one shot. And then, it's all over."

Like a prophet.

Love,

The Viking.

P.S. John recited this poem off by heart one night. I swear I saw a flash of my own life in it (not to mention it sums up his.) If you care to read, this is the link to it.

http://www.wesjones.com/serv1.htm