Breaking the BRO-CODE

I keep catching myself forgetting to breathe.  Oops!  Breathe, breathe.

30 days left to equal 1,185 days in Peru.  Some days good, some days bad.  The first 730 days were pretty tranquil, those days spent in a rural village, taken care of by a lovely Peruvian family.  The next year -- the BIG MOVE to the BIG CITY, when in fact it has a small town gossip to it, and everyone runs in the same circles.  This is where the real culture clash comes in.  Funny I didn't experience it until I moved to civilization, something closer to what we would recognize as "home."  You know, hot showers, people who brush their teeth and know how to use their cell phones and the internet.  A larger dating population than choosing between a farmer and a donkey driver.  And so I arrived, and began to see the real machismo society I'd heard about, but never fully grasped its extent.
If anyone thinks they understand the "bro-code"... or thinks they have experienced it... you've got nothin' on Peru.  You can't crack that code between bros who cover up for their cheating and lying friends no matter if you're married, moved across the world to be with a guy, laid down ground rules about fidelity, nada.
In this culture, at least in this part of the country, it is customary and accepted to cheat on your girlfriend or wife.  And the boys lie for each other, cover up, play dumb.  And the girls are called gossips, then ostracized, and banned from certain establishments where the bros frequent, if they try to tell their female friends to keep their eyes open, that I've heard some rumors, watch out.

I simply do what I would want others to do for me, if I were the clueless girl who's man is cheating on her.  So when an acquaintance asked me if I believed her man was faithful to her, and I knew otherwise... I can not tell a lie.  I tried to dodge any real details, but saw the suffering and doubt etched on her face, and told her I'd tell her next month, when I was gone, and others involved wouldn't have repercussions.  I suppose it was enough to cast doubt on her already doubting mind, and she began an in-depth investigation to anyone and everyone, and enough stories coincided to give her the truth, and she left to her home country within 3 days.

And what becomes of the cheating man who loses yet another trusting girlfriend due to infidelity?  Well, apparently in this machismo culture, you shift the blame to a scapegoat, and let's call her a gossip to boot, and not allow her to enter the establishment where her boyfriend works, because of course this guy is her boyfriend's boss (which makes a real sticky situation), and the guy has somehow become the victim in all of this, instead of a lying cheater.  After all, in this culture, let's recall that men are expected to cheat.  Whereas it's a huge taboo to talk about other people's private lives.  I made the cultural faux pas, not the other way around.  And I've lost a lot of friends in the process, even jeopardizing my own relationship with my boyfriend.  He's a guy, so he's a part of the bro-code.  And he can't wrap his head around my actions.

So what do you do when you realize that an entire culture clashes against your personal beliefs and morals? Do you stand by and watch a woman suffer, and accept it's part of the land where you are visiting?  What if the woman is another outsider like yourself, and hasn't yet realized what are the cultural norms?  What if you are dating someone born and raised in the culture?  Do you accuse without reasonable evidence, and jump on every small red flag that could indicate infidelity?  Or do you convince yourself that you found the one, I mean the ONE man in this environment that doesn't adhere to those cultural norms?  How would that be possible?  I would consider that statistically improbable.  How could I be so lucky?  And are there other women out there, who would put themselves on the line for me if perhaps I weren't so lucky as I think I am?  Would anyone else out there be willing to break the powerful BRO-CODE, and stand up against an entire ingrained societal norm?

Caught in the Culture Clash

Not that I consider myself religious, nor self-righteous, nor radical...only slightly moral.
Not that anyone reads my blog, since nothing has warranted writing an entry since May.

But now I find myself caught in a Culture Clash. I spoke up when no one else would.  And now I'm the scapegoat for actions that people won't take responsibility for.  North versus South.  Machismo versus non-machismo.  I wouldn't even consider myself a feminist, just a woman who believes everyone is entitled to the truth.

Making Connections

My first phone call of the day came a few minutes before 7am.  I didn't recognize the number, but picked up anyway, since the person on the other end was using their phone credit to call, they must want to get through.  It was the guide who accompanied my friends on the beautiful Huayhuash circuit last month.  We got cut off twice as his credit kept running out, and I couldn't get through by dialing his number.  Finally we were able to set up a meeting time for half an hour later, to talk about sending him more clients.  He has been a long-time friend of Peace Corps volunteers, since the time a PCV was living in his town several years ago.  He had lost contact with PCV's until a couple months ago, when my reforestation project was presented in his town, and he tracked me down.

After a very nice conversation in which I promised I'd send any potential clients his way, I returned to my house to make breakfast.  As an apple pancake was turning golden-brown, my phone rang again.  Another unfamiliar number.  I answered reluctantly, and was very happy I did.  It was another guide, but this one owns the only horseback riding agency in Huaraz.  I had contacted him about supporting his agency by making it more eco-friendly, and helping out with some English translations, in exchange for some horseback riding.  He was excited about my proposal, and we set up a time to meet in half a hour.  Over a bubbilicious Inca Cola, we talked for over an hour about all the possibilities we could work on together.  I was excited about learning how to horseshoe.  He was excited about my reforestation project.  We discussed implementing tree-planting in one of the communities at the destination of one of his trail rides.  The client could ride up to the top of a look-out, take a break, eat lunch, and plant a tree.  I stressed the importance of planting native tree species, as there is already enough eucalyptus, and the client should be contributing to an environmental cause in order to ffel thye are making a difference, which they certainly would be.  At 3000' meters, quenual trees would grow well, as they do in high altitudes.  Being an important native tree species, and in danger of extinction, it would be a great draw for clients looking to offset their carbon footprint, or to have a memorable experience during their visit to Peru.  They could come back and see their tree amidst the forest!

We discussed our timeline and I told him I would be leaving in December.  When I mentioned I was considering returning to Peru one day, he made me promise to keep in touch so that we could start an NGO together.  We began talking about homestays and cultural tourism, in which a client could spend a night with a family, and learn about the traditional lifestyle.  With the tourist season already upon us, we have a lot of big plans and ideas...we'll see where the road takes us!

Reaching the top during our full-day ride.

Like many Peruvian things, I am much taller.

Safety in the Mountains

Hanging out at 36 stories high
(120 meters or 393 feet)

One of the best parts about living in the Cordillera Blanca of Peru is the accessibility of the mountains.  There are over 50 peaks of 5,700 meters (18,700 ft) or higher, including more than 30 peaks over 6,000 meters (19,685 ft).  Besides mountaineering, a multitude of other activities can be enjoyed here such as rock-climbing, ice-climbing, horseback riding, hikes, multi-day trekking, camping, bridge-jumping, birding, and glacial lake jumping (only popular amongst the Peace Corps crowd).

Upon arrival, the unsavvy tourist may be deceived into thinking they can summit a 6,000 meter peak, or scale a 30 meter ice wall, and someone will pop out of nowhere to save them if something should go awry.  What most visitors don't think about is the lack of human resources, and therefore lack of rescue capabilities, available in this 340,000 hectare (1,312 square miles) Huascaran National Park.

Last year I embarked on climbing the "beginner's peak" of Nevado Pisco with a couple of friends and a couple of (maybe) guides.  After hiking to the base camp and having a quick dinner, we went to sleep only to awake at 1am to begin the ascent to the summit.  With our headlamps and gear, we made our way across the incredibly long and torturous morraine, then strapped on our crampons at the glacier's edge and tied into each other with 60 meter ropes.  A few hours later as the sun was rising, we reached the summit and were able to see the white beauty surrounding us as we stood on top of an ancient glacier.

Then we descended.  The terrain was quite different in the daylight.  Instead of seeing the 2 foot radius of light from my headlamp, I saw huge expanses of snow and ice, icicles hanging into caves, and small cracks leading into deep crevasses that made my heart race.  As the sun rose higher, shifting and cracking snow melting noises and deep guttural sounds of the glaciar revealed a hidden underground lair that I didn't wish to acquantaince.  I was well aware that the Cordillera Blanca is the tallest tropical mountain range in the world, meaning it is subject to the slightest changes in climate.  Estimates say they will all be gone in 40-50 years time.

With my feet finally planted on solid ground, I vowed to never again act like an uninformed tourist, and would at the very least learn the basics of mountaineering.  Six months later I happened upon a high mountain rescue course put on by the mountain guide association of Peru, the Casa de Guias.  Once again weighed down with heavy gear, I arrived on day one with my friend, us being 2 out of the 4 women signed up for this course of 130 mountain guides, guides-in-training, and invitees.  For the next 5 days, we were treated with the utmost respect, and our instructor had unlimited patience as we went over the knots and rescue systems over and over again in different situations.  I learned rescue systems, self-rescue, rappel systems, ice systems, snow systems, emergency cases, first aid, and we even had time for some rock-climbing and I rappeled down two pitches of 60 meters each.

On the last day we received closing words and certificates, and everyone went their separate ways for long, hot showers.  While we were enjoying a celebratory dinner and an overdue night's sleep, one of my Park colleagues who was also one of the course instructors, had to postpone his much-deserved rest for an emergency call about a group of university students who had entered the park unauthorized.  Two of the girls were separated from the group and couldn't be located in the dark.  Coming just a month after the disappearance of two lost hikers in the Colca Canyon of Arequipa, with one still missing, the backcountry was up 4-0.  Using years of guiding and rescue experience, my colleague located the two girls walking along a river bank at 1am, after hours of search-and-rescue.  One had fallen in and was suffering from hypothermia, while the other was wet and cold from the rain; both were scared and disoriented.

While I may not be going out and rescuing someone anytime soon, I can at least rescue myself, preventing a midnight search-and-rescue in my honor and leaving the mountains in their quiet slendor.

View from our campsite

Practicing knots

Park Rescue Coordinator & Man of the Hour who found the 2 missing girls,
after teaching the 5-day Mountain Rescue Course

Me with Director of Huascaran National Park and Tourism Specialist

Our patient guide Miguel

All my gear

First Aid and case studies portion of the rescue course

Me with one of the parkguards I used to work with in Cashapampa

Puya Raimondii: Largest Bromeliad in the World