13 April
Chachapoyas
Capital de
Casas uniformes
Blancas con tejas marrones
Balcones de madera
El tornado Gokta y
Amazonas
Apreciador de
Chaquetas de cuero,
Chistes botas blancas,
El Poderoso Sr. Cautivo,
Chirimoya, granadilla
Humitas, trucha frita,
Cecina, corazón,
Mamei y sapote,
Sensual Karicia y
Kumbia Norteña
Sierra bróther
Charapo coceando
Calor humilde
Pueblo oscuro
Frío luna llena
Cuarto de paja
Hueso anciano
Gorro de gato
Momia retorcida
Maestro de piedra
Tiempo desconocido
Flores su equipaje
Pisco ginger
Jebe y machete
Baina con pelo
Snacks en la disco
Man baby borracho
¡Ponga música!
¡Déjala! ¡Déjala!
¡No vale nada!
(https://picasaweb.google.com/107203502739002405475/Chachapoyas)
24 April
There’s a party upstairs,
goodbye party for an odontologist that interned in the Chalaco Health
Center for a few months.
I was friendly with her and work with most of the staff of the Health Center,
but can’t bring myself to drink and dance with them. It’s that my host mom
prepares the food, plays the music loud, and sells the beer, and at 1 AM, she
sits near the coal embers of a low open stove, hunched over in a chair made for
pre-schoolers, holding a small notebook and a pen, eyes heavy, marking a tally
for each bottle taken and directing guests to the bathroom, al fondo a la
vereda a la derecha. She waits to sleep, while they whistle and stomp and shout
for a short, repeating playlist of popular kumbia and reggaeton songs. I edge
through the crowd, bobbing my head in salute to a few but avoiding sustained
eye contact. Outside I chat with the municipality’s night watchman, who peers
inside warily at the squiggling bodies. I ask him if he parties like this, and
he responds that he doesn’t like music. Surprised that such blanket distaste
for something so humanly inherent could exist, I pry if there is any music at
all that he likes. “Música criolla,” he says. Guess that excludes kumbia. Fair.
Mind over matter. The doc
told me I have to change my diet because of my heartburn problems; that the
pills I’ve been taking since October shouldn’t be taken for longer than a month.
The worst part—no coffee. I’ll be tired and have headaches all day, won’t be
able to speak Spanish. My work and wellbeing will suffer. Toñio says that
caffeine dependency is all in your head, like most other needs. One time he was
traveling up to Chalaco in the middle of the night in the back of a truck,
wearing only a t-shirt (and pants) in the freezing, misty open air. He said
that to survive he forced himself to think that that he was really hot, and
that indeed he began to sweat and thought nothing of the cold. He also tricks
himself into not getting nauseous on the bus between Chalaco and Piura, the ride that at
least two people puke on every time.
