Volunteer Experience In Cuzco, Peru

I must apologize for not providing dates to the previous notes, or pieces, or whatever you’d like to call them. I guess at the time, I was so caught up in the adventure of it all that the dates didn’t seem to matter. But, from here on forth, I shall provide a date to accompany the writing so as to give some reference to the reader should the world change so much by the time your eyes grace themselves across the page.

MAY 18th, 2018

It is the height of the regions dry season and a few clouds occupy the great blue space above. Already you can feel the airs thinness. Long breaths are required from here on out.

Cuzco, once the capital of the far reaching Incan Empire, was designed to look like a jaguar. Now, the city acts as an outpost to pilgrims as they travel to ancient sites such as Machu Pichu, Vincunca (a.k.a. Montaña de Siete Colores), Ollantaytambo, Pisac and the Incan Trail. Imperial Spanish architecture is built right on top of old Incan stone literally crushing it into the ground. A reminder of the regions tumultuous history and resilience. The old fieldstone is strong, situated mathematically in ashlar polygonal masonry to work against a shifting and quake prone landscape. The stone is smooth to the touch, withered from many years holding the city together. The famous twelve-angled stone, located deep inside the leopards head, is not to be touched. As legend says, the spirits of old live entombed in the stone and will jump onto anyone foolish enough to brush against the large rock.

From the northwest end of the city, many of the narrow brick laden streets flow down towards Plaza de Mayor, a bustling tourist center framed by cathedrals, bars and restaurants. Peddlers, selling Incan trinkets, line the crowded pathways and women wearing traditional Quechuan clothing sit on stairwells, posing with alpacas for any tourist willing to pay a few soles for a picture. Cafés, the best situated in alleys far from the city fray, sell cocoa tea, a good remedy for those ailed by altitude sickness. In the shadows, fresh mountain air lingers unseen by the sun. 

On my first journey to the square, festive trumpets rang as young cadets marched in unison at the steps of The Cusco Cathedral. At an alleyway café situated perfectly in line with the suns midday trajectory, I decided to sit and practice my Spanish. At around one, the last bit of sunlight disappeared from the alley and after three hours of reading, writing and speaking with others who happened take rest at the café, I decided that it was time to leave.

The San Blas Spanish school, located only a short walk from Plaza de Mayor, is run by Manfred Molin. He has been running the school for many years and the location has enabled it to act as a stationing of sorts for global travelers looking to improve their polyglamorous tongues.

The school is also to act as my home for the coming week and the apartment on the third floor is a dusty and stuffy place with a pair of flies pirouetting about the window panes and wood ceiling. It is perfect. A living breathing place in a world gone vapid. The lights remain low, the shower stays warm for only a few minutes and the wifi is better left undisturbed. The view from the southern window gives way to the entire city. It was while looking out of this window that I often felt as though I were living as Man was supposed to. Present and not idly dreaming of where others might be.

As night fell on this first evening, little pops like gunshots, echoed in the distance. Fireworks. Throughout the night and into the early morning hours they’d appear off in the horizon from different areas of the city. They’d shoot upwards, a smoking tail in their wake, and flower down after they exploded overhead. A way to communicate the arrival of the summer solstice and the coming festivities.

Written by Charlie Leitner, United Planet Team Member.

Learn more about volunteering in Peru with United Planet.