End of Peru-An amazing Bar Mitzvah and Conversions

Sunday August 21^st 2011

The last few days have been extremely overwhelming and beautiful. After my 18 hour bus, Friday was jam-packed. In the morning, we converted 4 people. Two women, Yesenia and Yelitza, one man, Miguel “Mikhael”, and a two year-old, Angelito. We had a beit-din for the 3 adult conversions–one at a time. It consisted of me and Rabbi Tarlow and the community leader Juan. For Yelitza, Juan’s girlfriend, we didn’t allow Juan to be on the beit din and switched him with another already converted male, Miguel.  It was essentially a private interview/test in which we went around in a circle asking them questions. We wanted to make sure that they were giving up Catholicism, but that since their parents and families are still Catholics, that they continue to respect their families in order to maintain shalom bayit.  We asked them about particular Jewish traditions and holidays that they had studied and had found meaningful.  We also asked them about Jewish marriage, raising Jewish children, and continuing to attend the Friday night services and promising us that they would continue to study Judaism with all of the resources I had brought them. Rather than intimidate them with obscure ancient Jewish history questions, we wanted to give them the chance to expound on more open ended questions, while still making sure they had been studying.  Each beit din lasted about half an hour, after which we rented a minivan to head to the mikvah, the ritual bath of flowing water.

 

 The three new converts (sans the baby)

 

Me, Rabbi Tarlow, and Juan signing the conversion documents

The community somehow found a hidden freshwater river, 40 minutes from Huanuco by car, in a remote gorge. About 4 years ago, when they started converting, they claimed that area as their mikvah, demarking it by writing “Shalom” on a large stone. The two women went ahead with another women witness in order to avoid an uncomfortable situation with me and the Rabbi.  They were instructed to say the blessing over the immersion. We followed suite with Miguel “Mikhael.” Finally, Angelito, the baby, was sick and happened to be petrified by water, and wouldn’t enter the river. (We also decided it would be dangerous for him to fully immerse.) So we did a makeshift mikvah for him and dumped water on him three times. When he’s older, hopefully he will have overcome his fear of water, and he’ll immerse himself more properly.

The mikvah where the word Shalom is wearing away

Returning to the synagogue, we signed the documents of conversion, and prepared for Rolo’s bar mitzvah. Realizing that there would be several people who couldn’t make it, due to the Huayco that had delayed our arrival, we were praying for a minyan on Friday night. We decided to do the whole Bar Mitzvah on Friday night, and not set ourselves up for failure on Saturday morning when we wouldn’t have a minyan.  The Bar Mitzvah consisted of Rolo and I leading a Carlebach Kabbalat Shabbat and Maariv, an abbreviated torah service in which Rolo read 8 verses from the original 1870 Torah scroll, Rolo’s Bar Mitzvah sermon, and some words about Rolo from Rabbi Tarlow. We were perhaps 15 people altogether, but 5 of them were Rolo’s non-Jewish family members. (Rolo and his grandmother converted by choice several years ago, but his mother, stepfather, and step siblings are still practicing Catholics.) Nonetheless, this was the first and last time we had a minyan in my 5 weeks in Huanuco.

As Rolo read the Torah, the Rabbi and I helped him with a few words here and there. Rolo really made me proud as he read “Vehaya ekev tishmun et hamishpatim haele...” that we had practiced so many times. It was clear that in my 2 week absence in Cusco, he had practiced. I looked at the audience and saw some of them tearing up. They were so proud. For every single Peruvian in that room, this was the first Bar Mitzvah they had ever attended. It was the first Bar Mitzvah in Huanuco in over 100 years.  Rabbi Tarlow gave a speech about continuity of tradition and the beauty of reading the Torah and what it meant for the community to be continuing in the footsteps of their ancestors. If you would isolate the speech from the community’s circumstances, it would have been kind of sappy, but together with the difficult history of the Huanuco Jewish community, it was beautifully moving.  And throughout the speech, Rolo was beaming in a way I’d never seen before. It was amazing.

We moved to the dining room and went around the table, where everyone had to say something special for Rolo. One old fellow, Shanti, broke into tears while talking about how Rolo is the future of Judaism in Huanuco.  I’m still not sure what exactly he said that made in bawl but he spoke with such emotion. It was like a chain reaction and I couldn’t hold back my tears.

The next morning, the community, Rabbi Tarlow, and I had a “Come to Jesus meeting” aka a chizzuk meeting to help get their act together. The most important things we discussed were how the community needed to choose a denomination to belong to and couldn’t just pick certain customs that they like (women not counting in minyan, but only keeping Biblical kashrut.)  We also talked about how they should take a step back from practicing to read Hebrew and focus on the traditions, holidays, and Jewish philosophy, because they still have a lot to learn and Hebrew doesn’t do much if you’re lacking other essentials in Judaism. Other important ideas that circulated the meetings were adding more Spanish to the Friday night services and making sure that there was more balance in leadership between the different community members, because frankly if Juan were to die or disappear, the community would essentially just cease to be.  The meeting was extremely productive.

Finally I’m heading home to New York for the first time in forever, proud of what the Jewish community in Huanuco was able to achieve this summer, and hoping that they continue to maintain their pride in Judaism.

SURVIVED THE HUAYCO-18 hour bus

4AM Friday August 19, 2011

I’ve just survived one of the most unpleasant experiences of my life.  Our bus left Lima at 10am on Thursday morning, should have arrived in Huanuco 8 hours later at 6pm, but due to the Huayco, arrived in Huanuco at 3:30 am. Ladies and Gentlemen, that’s a 17.5 hour bus ride with little to no cell phone coverage. It was a really hot day, but the stewardess kept threatening that if we use the air conditioning, the battery of the bus will die and we’ll never get to Huanuco. There was a baby who was in dire need of a diaper change, but there were no diapers. It was awful. I calculated that I could covered more ground, biking from 10am to 9pm, than we were able to by bus.

On the “Central Highway” of Peru, which only has 1 lane in each direction, our bus essentially moved 15 meters and then waited in bumper to bumper traffic for 15 minutes, then would move a little, and wait again. Meanwhile, there are these little cars that are essentially fed up with the delays and decide to drive on the opposite lane in order to pass the people who are driving according to the Peruvian laws (but then again, who obeys Peruvian law?)  Nonetheless, this causes even more delays because the vehicles in the other direction aren’t able to get out of this gridlock traffic when both lanes are being taken up.

Finally at around 6pm we get to the actual Huayco. It looked like someone had poured 10 tons of sand and dirt on the highway, so there was only one lane due to this. Of course, they let all of the vehicles traveling towards Huanuco pass very slowly, and then tell us to stop. To stop for 2 hours while 4 Peruvian construction men try to fix the road a bit. As the buses are double decker, we in the 2^nd floor start stomping our feet over the drivers head, in order to show our discontent. I try to explain to them that it’s not really the drivers fault. He also wants to pass this Huayco zone. 

After 8:30pm, the 4 construction workers had had enough for the day and decided to leave. Our bus was the first to pass, and since we were the first in line in our direction, the rest of our trip (maybe 6 hours) should have gone smoothly. But the trucks and vans in the other direction were taking up both lanes. Many Spanish vulgarities and honking ensued. Finally we are able to fit through, but there are giant rocks in our lane (I’m convinced someone put them there to spite us).   Both of the drivers of our bus rush off to push them off the road so we can pass.  

Meanwhile, Rabbi Tarlow is sitting at my side through the whole bus.  He’s a great guy. The thing is that we have very different opinions are essentially everything. He’s an Obama-hater from Texas, who tells me that I’m not from the USA, because New York really isn’t the USA. “Daneel, you need to spend time in real America,” he tells me. He also tries to convince me that since I don’t really pay taxes, I shouldn’t have the right to vote. He’s really into talking about politics and I simply dislike conflict from political conversations and tend to stay away from such controversy.  One thing he has done for me though, is show me the importance of critically analyzing politicians and veering away from media biases. Still, he's a great guy whether we agree or not on politics, and I'm excited to help him convert 5 Huanuequñans and officiate a bar mitzvah with him.

 Greatest name for a Van company in Lima

In other news, a dear friend of mine, tried to send me a letter in the second week of July to my address here in Huanuco. After 3 weeks, I had given up all hope of ever receiving it. I had gone to the post office to ask how long a postcard from the USA could take, and she told me a month or more.  Today when I got back to the Holzmann house in Huanuco, I saw the card sitting on my bed. It had arrived after 4.5 weeks. Snail mail in Latin America stinks.

Rabbi Tarlow was right

8/17/11

The last day feels like it was a week. In Peru everything ends up backwards. My plane from Cusco to Lima was delayed for a long time and Peruvian Airline attendant didn’t know why. I mean, that’s not his job. Why should he know why planes are arriving really late? I finally get to Lima extremely late and Bardo is waiting in the arrival area with a sign with my name misspelled. Why should anyone spell my name correctly? I mean, I have a tough name to spell.  

I get put up in a nice hotel in Lima as I was waiting for the arrival of Rabbi Tarlow. It was really nice. I wasn’t sure why the Huanuco community had put me up there. It doesn’t make sense that a poor struggling Jewish community put up their “chazzan” in a nice hotel, when they struggle to make ends meet.

The Rabbi and I arrive and someone was supposed to take us to awesome Incan ruins, but of course, because things just don’t happen in Latin America, no one came to pick us up. We walked 7 miles to the Museo de la Nacion without a map. The walk was better than the museum.  Lima is an ugly city. You can tell I’m in a great mood. But it gets better.

Tonight we were supposed to take an overnight bus to Huanuco and arrive tomorrow (Thursday) morning. We get to the bus station, only to find out that there has been a huayco, (flash flood caused by torrential rains occurring high in the mountains, especially during the weather known as El Niño.)  What this means is that the road to Huanuco has been closed for G-d knows how long, and that all buses tonight have been cancelled to Huanuco.  We hope that by tomorrow they will have cleared the road so we can take a morning bus, but the likelihood that the road will be passable is about 50%. We may get to the bus company tomorrow only to find out that they’re still not letting any vehicles pass. We may needa fly to Huanuco. But the plane is expensive and not particularly safe. If it’s too cloudy a day, the tiny plane can’t take off.  I’m pretty sure the Huanuco runway is a dirt unpaved runway. That’s another story. Essentially if there’s no way to get back and forth from Huanuco safely, the conversions may have to wait till next time and we may have to do the Bar Mitzvah on Skype on Friday or something.

A huayco (from the Quechua wayqu, meaning "depth, valley") is a Peruvian term that refers to a flash flood caused by torrential rains occurring high in the mountains, especially during the weather known as El Niño. Clearly, they needa clean up the huayco in order to cross.

The only other option is to fly Lima-Huanuco in this tiny LC Busre airplane that won't take off if its too cloudy.

Many months ago, Rabbi Tarlow, my mentor in this Huanuco experience, tried to explain to me how things function or rather don’t function in Peru, and I couldn’t comprehend what he was saying. Everything he said seemed contrary to the way stuff works in New York. And in the last 7 weeks, I’ve realized he’s right. In Peru, everything that can go wrong will go wrong.

Lake Titicaca

08/16/11

This year I celebrated my birthday in a very different manner than usual. Most years I have some kind of hangout/party at home with friends and some family.  This year I spent the day/night on the Island of Amantani in the middle of Lake Titicaca with an indigenous Aymara family.

Saturday night I took an overnight bus from Cusco to Lake Titicaca at Puno.  As I arrive to the counter of the company Transmar, where I had bought my ticket, I witnessed some pretty sketchy stuff take place.  The guy had charged me 120 soles ($45) for a round trip ticket, and when he arrived he gave me the tickets with the prices blacked out in permanent marker.  I didn’t think much of the incident until I got on the bus and asked what they had payed for the same kind of seat as mine. 40 soles in each direction. Then I looked at my return ticket and saw that it was only semicama (half bed at 25 soles instead of a full bed.) The guy had ripped me off because I was a gringo. Instead of 120 soles, I should have payed 65. I was furious. It wasn’t such an issue of the difference in $25, but more the fact that many Peruvians think they can trick you and charge you more because you are white. I was pissed.

 

Blacked out price on my ticket

Nonetheless, on that bus I met 3 middle-aged Peruvian men with whom I would become close in the next two days. I went to Lake Titicaca without a reservation for a hostel or a plan of what to do–very un-Daneel like. When they told me that they were spending 2 days on islands in Lake Titicaca and spending 1 night with a family on an island, they had won me over.  

The morning after our overnight bus everything was taken care of. Pickup, breakfast, transportation to the islands. It was a great feeling.  The Uros Islands are incredible. The Uros Indians of Lake Titicaca live on floating "islands" made by hand from totora reeds that grow in the shallow waters of the lake. There are some 45 floating islands in Lake Titicaca. The islands first came into contact with the modern world in the mid-1960s, and their inhabitants now live mostly off tourism, which seemed a little odd to me. They seem like objects in a museum that foreigners come to observe. 

Floating Reed Uros Islands

         

Next, we spent the afternoon and night on Amantaní, a circular island located about 4 1/2 hours from Puno.  The island is very rustic and unspoiled and is beautifully terraced and home to farmers, fishers, and weavers.  We hiked to a peak called Pachatata (Father Earth), with amazing views of the lake. The 3 Peruvian gentlemen and I stayed together at one host family that prepared us very simple meals, essentially several different species of boiled potatoes and Peruvian tubers with quinoa.

PS. The family had no electricity or refrigeration.

Our host family was so cute. For my birthday they made me a beautiful necklace out of flowers from their garden. That night, which also coincided with the eve of my birthday, was the last day of a week-long dance festival, which was insane. Imagine essentially each and every Amantaní native (1000) getting drunk and dancing in traditional garb. Then the family dress us up in local outfits – the women in layered, multicolored, embroidered skirts and blouses, and the men in wool ponchos. I also mastered dancing to techno cumbia music, which is extremely popular in Peru. We also visited Taquile Island (Isla Taquile), but it was very similar to Amantaní, so I won’t 

 expound.

  

Amazing sunset from Isla Amantaní

 

 Crazy dance festival

 Dancing with my host family sister at the dance festival

Once back in Puno, the 3 Peruvians and I explored the city, awaiting our 10pm bus back to Cusco. Once we arrived in Cusco, I eagerly awaited my encounter with the man who had cheated me in my bus ticket. I approached him. (The following coversation took place in Spanish)

“Señor, do you know why I’ve come to speak to you?”

“No idea. Did you have a good trip in Puno” (He clearly knows why I’ve come, but is playing dumb)

“Sir, you ripped me off. You think white people are stupid. We’re not. I demand my 55 soles back. (I explain everything he had done and why he better give me my money back.)  If you don’t give me my money back, I will destroy your company by publishing on tripadviser and other similar websites, facebook, my blog, that nobody should buy from you, because you are an evil cheater.”

At this point, as out of a movie, my 3 Peruvian friends come to back me up and start arguing with the vendor. It was great. The guy clearly didn’t have a good reason for anything he had done, but tried to say that because I had bought it so far in advance (a week) the prices were more expensive. What a prick! In the end, he only gave me 40 soles back, because he said I’d have to return to the bus station to talk to his manager, (clearly a load of BS.)

DON’T BUY FROM TRANSMAR.

I hope he learned his lesson. 

Tomorrow I meet up with Rabbi Tarlow in Lima to visit some Incan ruins (Pachacamac) and the Archeology Museum, and then we head to Huanuco tomorrow night on an overnight bus to convert some Huanuqueñans to Judaism and to celebrate Rolo’s Bar Mitzvah. It's bound to be an exciting last week in Peru.

Crazy 5 day hike, Machu Picchu, and more. Oh My! (8/11/2011)

8/11/2011

This blog entry has been way overdue. I just returned to Cusco after 5 days in the wilderness. But I have some interesting stories before that.

The day I arrived to Lima, on the 4^th of August, I was kindly shown around by Juan. We went to several museums and he put me up in a nice hotel.  It was fantastic. I got him as my personal tour guide without having to worry about how to travel around Lima or about getting pickpocketed. I also had a chance to see an old friend of mine, Molly Colman, who’s studying abroad in Lima.

Molly and I in Miraflores, Lima

The next day I flew to Cuzco, saw the beautiful Coricacancha (ex-Sun Temple turned into a Church in the classic Spanish let’s-destroy-Incan-idolatry mode) and before Shabbes got this amazing Boleto Turistico (a pass that gets you into most ruins and museums in the area for free.)  Friday night at Chabad started amazing but ended with me feeling super uncomfortable.  I arrived and heard two young guys singing the Baruch Levine song that I love called V’zakeini. I hadn’t heard it since leaving Penn and it really brought me back into a Shaleshudis mood, which G-d willing, I’ll be in charge of this year.  It was the first time since arriving in Peru that I was in an Orthodox environment and it felt good to be “home.” Everyone had kavanah and knew the words and melodies and it was amazing. At the Friday night dinner, I realized there were 100 Israelis (secular and religious) and the Chabad Rabbi only spoke in Hebrew. Yes there were 5 Americans, but we were neglected and every announcement was in Hebrew with no English or Spanish supplement. I understood very little of what he was saying because he spoke really fast. Nonetheless, I stuck it out and decided to come back Saturday morning for services and lunch. Then, I was the only English speaker at my table and not a single Israeli would talk to me. I awkwardly sat with Israelis surrounding me trying to strike up conversation in my mediocre Hebrew and when that didn’t work in English. I decided to join another table that had 2 young Brooklyn Chabadniks.  The conversation ended up with Israeli politics and I soon realized how hateful their rhetoric was. “We should kill the Arabs in Israel. We should kick them out to Jordan” were some the worst of the things they were preaching. It is because of narrow-minded people like that that we don’t yet have peace in the Middle East. I said what I had to and left lunch frustrated without waiting for the communal grace after meal. I wouldn’t listen to such hatred being spread.

I left lunch and here’s where my silliness begins. I decided to walk 15 miles that afternoon to a few Incan ruins that I could get into with my Boleto Turistico (so I wouldn’t need money.)  I didn’t ask whether there was an eiruv. I kinda knew there wasn’t one, but since I didn’t know for sure, I didn’t want people to see a religious Jew carrying on Shabbes. But I needed my ID card just in case something G-d forbid happened to me and I carried along my little piece of paper that was the Boleto Turistico. But, I didn’t wanna carry anything that people could see. So I didn’t bring a water bottle, let alone money or a camera. The end of the story is that I ended up essentially hiking for 5 hours in the outskirts of Cusco in my Shabbes clothing, while getting dehydrated and not having water or money to buy a drink. Pikuach nefesh?  Shabbes ended with me walking back to my hostel and passing the Festival of San Cristobal where 100s of Cusqueñans were dancing with colorful masks and getting drunk. What a scene!

My patent-pending method of not getting sunburnt-wear a towel in the form of a hijab.

On Sunday my 5 day hike through the Salkantay mountains began at 4:15am. On the first night of the hike we camped at 4000 meters (12,000 feet) and I literally thought I would get frostbite or die. I was awake and shivering (which I guess was good because I knew I was alive) from 10pm to 2am. I was having difficulty breathing and had a headache too. I couldn’t find my Tylenol because I didn’t have a flashlight. At midnight I put on every pair of shirts and socks that I had just to try and warm myself. It didn’t work. The 25 degrees Fahrenheit was brutal in a tent at that altitude.

Me nearly freezing to death and wearing every article of
clothing that I had with me

The next few days improved and we moved from the High Pass of the mountains to the jungle and it was warmer and I suffered less.  Monday night till Tuesday night was Tisha B’av, the 2^nd most important fast day in the Jewish calendar. You’re probably wondering why I chose to do a 5 day hike over a fast day. It was a careless error that I couldn’t correct once I had reserved. This Tisha B’av was pretty special. No, I couldn’t fast because it would have endangered my life. No I didn’t hear the reading of Eicha, and I later realized that the only pair of shoes I have hear contain leather.  You’re probably thinking, Wow Daneel’s a bad Orthodox Jew. Maybe I am and maybe I’m not. But this Tisha B’av was particularly meaningful. Everyone else on the hike had chosen to use a horse to transport their hiking backpack. I decided to challenge myself and hike with 15 pounds on my back. I thought it’d get me into the Tisha B’av spirit-suffering, sore back, etc. And it did. And while I was struggling to hike up steep ridges with my giant backpack, I sang kinnot and sad zemirot, and as much of Eicha as I knew by heart (1-2 lines.) This is more than I usually do to prepare myself spiritually for Tisha B’av.  Would I ever do this again over a fast day? Absolutely not. I’ll be more careful when making reservations not to think, “There are no real holidays between Shavuot and Rosh Hashanah.”

We were about 15 people who all spoke different languages. It was really tough to communicate at first because there were people who knew no Spanish and people who knew no English. We had 2 Hebrew speakers, 4 Germans, 2 Spaniards, 2 Brazilians, 3 French guys, and 2 Americans. Dinner conversations were awkward because we had difficulty communicating. We got better in the last 2 days once the Brazilians started to teach us silly words to say in Portuguese. We bonded over the difficult trek and over these silly words.

Our tour guide Nico was so sincere but his English was so broken. If he is considered a bilingual tour guide in Peru then I should be able to give 5 day tours in Hebrew. J  Nonetheless, at one point during the trip I poured him a cup of Coke and I saw him spill a little of it on the floor intentionally. After studying the Incas for a while, I’ve learned to pick up on signals like these. I asked him whether he was making a sacrifice to Pachamama (Mother Earth) and he nodded and explained that whenever he eats or drinks anything he pours out or breaks off a small portion of it for Earth Goddess.  It reminded me of what Jews do when they bake challah and separate out a part of it that isn’t for us to eat.

Finally on Thursday morning at 4:30am, we hiked up to Machu Picchu, which was breathtaking like nothing I’ve ever witnessed. The grandeur and sophisticatedness of the structures are difficult to express with words. Pictures will have to suffice.

Last Minute (12:45 pm Tuesday August 2, 2011)

12:45 pm Tuesday August 2, 2011

 

It’s really difficult to change bad habits. In the past 4 years, since its “founding,” the Huanuco Jewish community has suffered from the lack of ability to read Hebrew and therefore, the habituation of essentially praying with many mispronounced and wrong words based on the fonetica (Hebrew writtern in Spanish transliteration) in their siddurim.  Today, I was singing Adon Olam with Rolo, and I noticed just how much of an issue it is. And he knows how to read Hebrew. It’s just that he and the others are accustomed to singing what they think are the words and are often lazy to change their habits of the past. So I sat down with Rolo and it took him 7 minutes to read through Adon Olam correctly. I could occasionally tell that he was trying (and failing) at cheating and remembering how they usually sing it (full of mispronunciations.) I stopped him several times and told him to stop remembering the pronunciation of the past, and utilize his ability to read the Hebrew to improve the pronunciation.  I know its tough but I hope that in the future, they continue to improve in this area

 

In classic Latin American fashion (the necessity to leave things to the last minute), when Juan went to purchase my ticket for the overnight bus from Huanuco to Lima, they were all sold out. I guess that’s what happens when you try to buy a long distance ticket just a day before its departure.  What this means is that I sadly have get to spend one fewer day in Lima.   Now, in my 27 hours in Lima, I’ll try to squeeze in Pachacamac (famous ruins), and 3 museums into a day.  Then Friday at 10am I fly an hour to Cusco, where I’ll be on my own for 2 weeks.

The end of the World aka Huanuco Pampa (11:30pm Sunday July 31, 2011)

Today was definitely an absurd day. It started with me getting 2 hours of sleep and catching a 3:30am car service from Huanuco to a small town 4 hours away with 2 friends from the Jewish community.  We were 8 people squished in a 5 person car–not particularly safe. There were 3 in the front area, 3 in the back seats, and 2 in the trunk. Oh, and I forgot to mention that from my experience Peruvian cars don’t do the whole seatbelt thing.  Even better are the occasional checkpoints on the highway, in which a policeman opens the cars trunk to make sure you’re not smuggling drugs, but then doesn’t seem to care that there are an illegal number of people in the car.

Shanti, Miguel, and I arrive to La Union, a small village in the mountains 11,500 above sea level, and are greeted by the coldest I’ve ever been in Peru. That’s not saying much, but for a day in July, wearing a ski cap, long pants, long sleeves, and a jacket seems pretty insane.  Both Miguel and Shanti were great companions for this journey; Miguel has specialized in tourism in university and has been a guide in the past, and Shanti is the leader of numerous Indigenous Andean organizations and lives somewhat of a dual life of Judaism and Incan traditions. Shanti made some really interesting ritual offering to Pachamama (Mother Earth) that included some leaves of coca and playing a flute before visiting the important site of Huanuco Pampa.

Knowing that the last bus back to Huanuco was at 2pm, we didn’t have much time to waste. After having walked 20 kilometers through prairie with sharp prickly pieces of giant weed that somehow made it into our shoes and socks, we made a group offering to Pachamama in the site of Huanuco Pampa, which basically involved shaking lulav (but with the coca leaves), we saw the highlights of the ruins–the tremendous Ushnu, Kallanka, and Collcas (if you’re interested in this, have no idea what I’m talking about, and you’re a Penn student, take Dr. Clark Erickson’s Archeology of the Incas course.)   I was awed by the Incan stone, so perfectly carved before the wheel and serious metal tools made it to the New World. The multi-ton bricks are so perpendicular, tremendous, and mysterious (Modern anthropologists still aren’t sure how the Incas built these structures.

 

 

The Ushnu of Huanuco Pampa

It’s really a pity to see how the Peruvian tourist industry isn’t taking advantage of arguably the 2^nd most famous surviving Incan ruin.  It’s not well maintained. It’s a pain in the butt to get to (4 hours of serpentine 1 lane highway through the mountains with no direct rides to the ruins themselves). And there’s no tourist shop or restaurant within 40 minutes drive.

Arriving back in La Unión in time for our 2pm bus, we find out that we’d been lied to and today there just was no bus. Upset we check the car service companies back to Huanuco, but they all tell us they are sold out until the next day. Our only option is to hitchhike or stay the night in La Union, but clearly we opt to hitchhike. The next 4 hours involve a lot of waiting, 50 cars passing and not picking us up, the temperature in the mountains dropping to near freezing, me getting a migraine and a fever, and us nearly giving up and staying in a roadside hostel for the night.  Finally as the sun was setting at 6:30pm, we hopped in a van and arrived home in Huanuco at 10pm.

The town of 200 people where we waited 4 hours for a hitchhike.

I’ve never been so happy to see Huanuco in my life.

Last Shabbes and Cool Torah (10pm Saturday July 30, 2011)

10pm Saturday July 30, 2011

On Friday we were finally able to open up the Aron Kodesh (Holy Ark), as the key to the lock had been lost and we  just decided to break the lock.  I found two Torah scrolls in addition to Juan’s 1870 Lithuanian family Torah Scroll. At first I was confused because it didn’t make sense for the Huanuco community to have three Torah scrolls. I picked one up and placed it on the bima, taking it out of its casing. As I looked at the Torah with a grin, Juan explained to me that this was a complete photocopied Torah. As I rolled it to the portion that Rolo will read for his Bar Mitzvah, Juan told me that he had spent a whole night several months ago with his Kosher Torah scroll at a friends house. He made two full size reproductions on large white paper and taped them together so they look just like a Torah; they even have Etz Haims (the two wooden pieces that hold the parchment.)  The reason for the photocopy was so that the community could become familiar with a Torah scroll that wasn’t his personal family heirloom.

(photo)

My last Shabbes with the community before I head to South Peru for 2 weeks was helpful for comparative purposes.  A random 30 year old non-Jew man from Lima who is potentially interested in converting happened to be in Huanuco for Shabbes, and came over for services. I saw that the let’s-tell-dirty-jokes-Friday-night thing isn’t just limited to Huanuco.  This guy from Lima was tearing the audience apart with his jokes at the Friday night table. As usual, I tried to laugh in order to seem polite, but he caught on and out of nowhere decided to tell an English joke he had once heard about G. W. Bush and Moses, because he felt bad that I wasn’t catching onto the Peruvian humor.  His joke was cute: I smiled and then explained that I’m a tough audience in any language.

Saturday also was a first for me–my first Christian wedding (it’s a mitzvah to m’sameakh chatan v’kala, right?). I decided I couldn’t leave Huanuco without going to a Church service because my Huanuqueñan Jewish “foster mother” sings professionally in the choir that sings at every special mass  (whether for a wedding, funeral, or holiday). Saturday, after our Jewish community had its first Saturday morning service with me, and after our lunch/Kiddush, I walked to the San Cristobal Church in my Shabbes clothes with a baseball cap. There have been times in Peru were I’ve seriously felt like an outsider, but I think the prize for 1^st place in outsiderness goes to this experience. I took off my cap and kippah, because it’s considered offensive to have a head covering in many Churchs. I’m sitting there, and the choir starts singing. I really enjoyed their repertoire- that classic wedding song, some excerpts of Handel’s Mesiah and Judas Maccabaeus, a Peruvian folksong El Condor Pasa (made famous by Simon and Garfunkel), and some other Christian hymns.  Then the whole kneeling and saying amen to stuff with Jesus and I felt really uncomfortable. People stared at me like never before; they were probably thinking, “What is that redhead Gringo doing in our Church if he’s not even participating in mass?”  Good question.

 

The Church where the wedding took place

The copied Torah

The real Torah from 1870