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Huancayo

Cuy is a eaten by Peruvians on special occasions, like when the entire family gets together. As travelers, we’ve read about it from Lonely Planet or something like that. After a quick discussion, we decided to try Cuy on our last night in Huancayo with the other volunteers (so it wouldn’t be wasted if we were grossed out). I thought I could do it, but almost cried when the sizzling platter came out. I could barely taste the tiny morsel I tried. On a side note, I had no problem eating a whole fish that was similarly splayed out on a platter with its head on.

Davidson says it tastes like chicken, and Andy puts its head in his mouth. Sigh.



We also helped out at an after school program in Urpaycancha, a village within Huancayo. At first, I colored with what looked like four-year-olds. Turns out some were at least six. Davidson helped some of them with math homework. Mostly though, the time was spent coming up with fun ways to memorize basic English vocab again. Sometimes, we’d go to the fields and play futból or pato-pato-pavo.

I brought my camera on the last day, and the kids reacted like I was giving away video games dipped in sugar. At least eight of them would yell, “Miss, miss! A mi! A mi! A mi!” whenever I aimed to shoot any other kid. I felt like I was on the set of Urpaycancha’s Top Child Model, but I guess that would make me the bald British judge who Tyra calls “Noted Fashion Photographer Nigel Barker* “. Gross. Whatev, these kids are way better in front of a camera than any model wannabe.

(* Noted by whom?)











Volunteering is new to me, and I’m generally a little scared of kids. They always seemed so demanding. But these children in Huancayo are usually quite sweet and appreciative. I did grow fond of them (espesh Vanessa in the striped sweater) as the week went by. As volunteers, we taught them very basic english vocab. Not sure how much they actually learned from us. I actually think I learned more from them—mostly that I have to be less of a pushover. For reals. (Also check out how the voluntarios all have the same haircut now. The Dalai Lama look is a raging trend these days.)







Pachamanca literally means earth (pacha) pot (manca) in Quechua. Indigenous Andean people in Peru have been speaking Quechua before Incan times, so this is defs the old skool way to eat in Huancayo.

For the umpteenth time, Neto and Eli take us to dinner—this time at Doña Teofila’s. I’m totes fine about using my hands( which is no big deal coming from Southeast Asia). But I decide not to eat the lamb, because it looks green and scary. Davidson says its “gamey”. I liked the chicken, pork, beans and potatoes. Did I mention everything was cooked in hot stones underground? By this point, I really don’t think I can have a bad meal in Peru.



We try some outdoorsy things in preparation for the looming hardship known as the Inca Trail. Hahahahahaha, hilarious underestimation. This effort is not totally wasted—we try some prickly pear, enjoy the horse-riding bit, and get to know fellow-volunteer Gautham a little better.






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