I’ll never
forget Peru. It’s been two weeks since I
arrived back in the states, and still, despite being busy with this semester’s
classes, the memories keep flooding back.
Memories like eating dinner at a restaurant in Puno and speaking Spanish
with our guide; memories like climbing up a rugged jungle path to view Machu
Picchu; and memories like looking out from to the top of Amantaní
and seeing the snow-capped Andes peaks in the distance – guardians at the edge
of Lago Titicaca.
We saw so much, heard so much, and
read so much in two short weeks that I’m still trying to unpack and organize
all of the experiences in my own mind.
Nevertheless, I would like to use this, my sixth and final blog post for
my second study abroad journey, to reflect on the significance of the
H2Passport program to my own studies and understanding of the world.
I would categorize this trip as
equal parts academic exploration, logistical scramble, and wonderment at the sheer
natural beauty of our surroundings. The
academic exploration part of the journey was something that occurred during the
logistical scramble – times when we were traveling from city to city – and
during down time in the early mornings and late evenings. We easily read some 300 pages (I’m estimating
here) in our principle study book, The
Peru Reader, and other academic journal pieces over the course of the two
weeks. We discussed the readings during
full-class meetings and on-site, and many of our readings and discussions were
also closely related to – and helpful background info for – the on-site presentations
that my classmates and I conducted at major landmarks throughout the country.
Perhaps my favorite theme from our
daily readings and discussions was that of vision – and more specifically, how “seen”
elements (as I termed them in my final paper for the course) can easily
dominate our perception of the past. For
example, it is easy to look at Baroque-era structures like the church of San
Francisco de Lima (the structure at which I conducted my on-site presentation)
and succumb to a simple categorization of the structure as a “high Spanish
Baroque church.” Many of the scholarly
articles I read on the church do so, and yet the history of the structure warrants
a much more complex categorization.
In my final paper for the program,
I argued that San Francisco de Lima is, in reality, an “Andean-Hybrid Baroque
church” – one that is Baroque in style, but incorporates distinctly native
Andean, and native Peruvian, elements as well.
The main native element, then, being the quincha architectural style, which was developed by Andeans, and,
coincidentally (not!), used to build almost the entirety of the San Francisco
de Lima complex.
When looking at the past, it is
important to realize that any structure, and any group of people, is fluid –
constantly changing and evolving – in the past, just as they still are today. San Francisco de Lima was built
and maintained by architects of both old world and new world origin over the
course of two centuries (and impacted by three or more major
earthquakes!). The Incan people and
other Andean groups were ushered into the early modern age by the Spaniards,
but the relationship was not one-sided.
Native symbolism, in both “seen” elements (Incan cantuta flowers, masks,
and serpentine throwbacks to Nazca pottery) and “unseen” elements (such as quincha building style), shows up all over Peru in
colonial-era structures.
I would like to transition now to
the logistical aspects of our journey.
For the record, this trip consisted of six flights; three boat rides; two
long bus rides (6 hours each); two train rides; and countless hiking, walking,
and other bus excursions along the way.
Before I ever embarked on this journey, I had worried that the
logistical aspects of the trip would somehow take over my experience – that I
would become caught up in some Manichean battle between trying to enjoy the
beautiful landscape and trying to catch the next train, bus, or plane on the
schedule. My fears were unfounded,
however, as the logistical aspects of the trip turned out to be very beneficial
to the overall learning experience.
I specifically enjoyed the scenery on
our long bus rides from Arequipa to Puno and from Puno to Cusco. The landscape was breathtaking – I kept
feeling like we were traversing Rohan from Lord of the Rings! All LOTR references aside, however, I also
enjoyed the people and towns that we passed through, nestled in the Peruvian
countryside.
At one point – probably half way
between Arequipa and Puno – I saw a middle-aged woman carrying a large bundle
on her back simply walking on the side of a mountain in the distance, no
civilization, discounting wild llama populations, in sight. I wondered where she was going, and if
perhaps she wondered where our bus was headed, and why we were in such a
hurry.
Large towns were scarce in southern
Peru, so when we finally reached the southern city of Juliaca on our way
to Puno, I found myself wondering at the sudden sprawl of buildings amidst the
barren, yet beautiful, landscape. We
drove right through the center of town, which was bustling with people and
crowded on all sides by tenement-style housing.
The interesting part about Juliaca to me, however, was a small, but well
kept looking university on the outskirts of town. “Learn English and get a degree in Tourism”
the sign read.
A degree in
tourism and a middle
class job is without a doubt the Peruvian dream. Another dream – to
make it all the way to the
United States – is out of reach for many.
One tour guide told me that he has been trying to get a visa to enter
the U.S. for 25 years, so far unsuccessfully. I'm still holding out
hope for that man and for all of the other hard working Peruvians of all
classes. In Peru, prolific poverty and unparalleled natural beauty
exist on the same plane. The only escape from poverty for the average
citizen seems to be through education, and through tourism. I couldn't
help but imagine, seeing that sign on the side of the road, how the
United States would be different if multilingualism was a surefire
necessity for economic advancement. Food for thought.
If I had to
pinpoint one memory
that stands out to me more than any other, it would be standing on the
top of
Amantaní
(after a rugged hour-long climb) at the temple of the sky god. In that
moment, overwhelmed by imposing storm
clouds to the north; the deep blue water of Lago Titicaca lapping at the
shoreline below us; and the snow-capped Andes mountain peaks in the
distance; I
felt like I was somehow standing at the edge of the Earth – at the edge
of
civilization. As we turned to go, our
guide pointed to a particular grouping of peaks to the southwest. “Over
there is Bolivia,” he said. For some reason that simple statement
resonated with
me. Here we stood, having traveled
thousands of miles through the air and hundreds more on land, at the
southernmost tip of Peru – and there was, well, just another COUNTRY. The world may be small in terms of global
communication, but the physical landscape is vast, and I felt the vastness in
that moment.
Thank you for sticking with me through
this long and rambling wrap-up. I will be posting pictures from my trip on social media very soon! Lastly, I hope
to study abroad one more time during my undergraduate career, perhaps long-term, and when the time
comes, I will definitely be blogging about it.
Until then—
Muchas gracias y saludos,
—Brock J. DeMark
--
Read more from Brock at http://brockinperu.blogspot.com/
For more information about international
travel through the Honors College, please visit the Honors
College blog.
For more funding opportunities for study abroad, check out
http://studyabroad.uark.edu/funding.
