Authenticity Required

Anybody who has experienced some world travel is very familiar with the concept of tourism. People coming from around the world to experience a foreign culture or land. Communities throughout the world capitalize on this by providing specific products and services, although often with a lower quality or standard. Especially in developing countries, like Peru, this can provide income to a community that needs it. In that sense, I'm all for it. Although sometimes I get an itchin' for something authentic! My second day in Ollanta, I made it a point to walk the entire town. With bright/neon greens being my favorite colors, you can only imagine how badly I wanted to buy a massive neon green and black punchu (Yes punchu. They insisted I say it in their Quechan language, rather than poncho!) the moment I saw it. I decided to wait though after realizing that rushing it would be silly since I'll be here for months. Walking through the streets, I saw the same exact punchu at five different shops. Either the weaver has a skilled way of making perfectly identical punchus, or these were clearly made in a factory somewhere distant. I have a good idea as to which of these assumptions is more accurate. With all that being said, I've definitely bought my fair share of cheap stuff. I'm currently wearing a pair of $1.50 sandals that I bought near the base of Machu Picchu. I guess I like a mixture of it all.

Two days ago, I read about a mountain village, known for weaving authentic traditional wares from llama and alpaca wool. Immediately after reading this, I knew exactly what my day was going to consist of. Talking the idea over with my Irish buddy, and fellow guide, Paddy, we decided to turn it into a biking extravaganza. The weather was absolutely beautiful. Not a cloud in the sky (keep in mind it's the rainy season here) and hot enough to strip down to your socks and a t-shirt. While that seemed like an extreme idea, I settle with the pleasant "tank top in February" idea. Leaving Ollanta, we began our ride up the series of dirt roads, side streets, and occasional trail sections to Patacancha. While it did start drizzling a bit, the warm rain was far too enjoyable to shield with my raincoat. Similar to the amazing feeling of walking near a sprinkler on a hot summer day. The climb up was more than I had expected, but not due to the distance. This was my first climb at high elevation. Throughout the entire ride, my legs felt like they could always move faster and my lungs were consistently full, but it felt like my body was only using about half of the oxygen in my lungs! Climbing up to 11,800 feet was much more demanding than I had expected.


Arriving in the small village, nobody was out and about. I assumed they were either up at their mountainside farms or remaining in their homes to avoid the drizzle. With time, Paddy and I eventually found a Quechan woman who was willing to show us pieces she had made. Within minutes, she brought over another woman with another blanket full of clothes. As Paddy and I dug through the two piles of goods, the women rarely made eye contact, but would occasionally glance over to inspect our mountain bike shoes and hydration packs. While Patacancha is still a town that attracts gringos commonly, I’m sure it was so foreign to them. Cuzco, a decently sized city, is only 50 miles away and there’s a very good chance they’ve never been to it. Shuffling through the articles of clothing, we came across punchus, beanies, belts, scarves, bracelets, anklets, and coin purses. All the clothing was more earth toned than anything else I had seen before (compare the piles of wares to the brightly colored blankets they buy to wrap their woven crafts in.) Not having a mirror, we resorted to our cameras to see how each article looked. All the while, the two locals kept their head down and either spun their wool or continued weaving something. The feeling of each article was completely different than any of the pieces I had touched in the Ollanta market. Somehow all of it was extremely soft, yet felt strong and hefty. My overall favorite characteristic of it all though, was the fact that it smelled like animal. That may sound strange, but I liked the satisfaction of knowing where it came from. In the end, we decided on a beanie each, along with some gifts for others. The women in this town are often considered the best of the best, and I'm sure these beanies took a great deal of time to make, yet we purchased each one for less than the cost of a meal in the states.

Spinning her wool while we searched through the piles.

Some of these are gifts! Start guessing!

Using my camera as a mirror.

Paddy with the two women

Cheesin

It was time to head back down to Ollanta. The downhill was pretty much a brakeless experience of speeding frenzy. Occasionally, there were singletrack lines skirting the edges, cutting off one switchback after another. While the ride wasn't anything the seasoned rider would consider exceptional, I've come to realize that I'm simply happy being on a bike for any reason. Whether it be cruising through city streets, pedaling at high-altitude, picking lines through rock gardens, or just bombing down a dirt road. I absolutely, 100% love it. I mentioned the tank top earlier for one reason. When I arrived home, I looked in the mirror to find my back looking like a lobster, perfectly framed by the straps of my tank top. Note to self: more sunscreen next time!

Almost went for a swim!

Stunning views make up for the high-consequence barbwire boundaries on each side. While I don't normally condone listening to headphones while riding or hiking in beautiful places, it's a great time for me to get through some Spanish lesson audios.

I love this beanie so much that I even wore it while writing this. It really hasn't come off my head since I bought it.

While it may seem completely unrelated, I'm going to start writing down the albums I was listening to while I wrote each post. Mainly for me, it'll help me remember the mode I was in at the time.

Bon Iver - Blood Bank, Bon Iver, & For Emma, Forever Ago

Brett Dennen - So Much More