Foreward - Beyond El Misti

Moving between the cities of Arequipa and Cusco, Peru, "Beyond El Misti" illustrates the daily life of twin sisters: Teresa and Carolina Vasquez. This collection of one-dozen children's stories draws on history, music, culture, and cuisine to illustrate daily life for the average Peruvian family. This story was written for parents to share with their children, ages 8-10.

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A Life Immaculate

Summer stretched out between spring and autumn quite well, filling the empty spots in several people’s lives. Now, the days grew shorter and it was time for the girls to return to their parents in Arequipa.
On Lina and Teresa’s last night in Cusco, they stayed up late at night with Uncle Jorge and Aunt Paola, playing cards, talking, and telling jokes. Aunt Paola had even stirred up a brew of coffee, chocolate, and sugar. The girls thought it was delicious.
Uncle Jorge rose early the next morning, but let the girls sleep in. There was to be a long trip home.
“Good afternoon,” greeted Uncle Jorge as Lina rubbed the sleep from her eyes.
“Afternoon? Already?” groaned Lina.
“And your plane is leaving in just a few hours,” added Uncle Jorge.
“I’m not even ready.”
“Aunt Paola and I packed your bags early this morning.”
Lina breathed a sigh of relief.
“Wake your cousin. Your Aunt fixed a going-away meal.”
Uncle Jorge returned to the kitchen, helping Aunt Paola prepare the table. In short order, Lina stirred Teresa from sleep, took a shower, then returned to Teresa’s bedsde. Teresa had fallen back to sleep.
“Get up!” she said.
“I’m up! I’m up!”
Teresa went to the bathroom while Lina brushed her hair. Lina gathered her thick black hair in her hand, pulling it into a ponytail with her red and white elastic band. At that moment, Teresa came out of the bathroom.
“What should I wear on the plane?”
“Whatever’s comfortable,” replied Lina.
“Will you help me pick something?”
Lina nodded. “You really don’t need my help. Put on a pair of comfortable shorts and a shirt.”
“Which one?”
“Any one. Here, take this brown one.”
“I like green better.”
Lina sighed. “Then wear your green one.”
Teresa pulled on her green shirt and looked in the mirror.
“Do you really like brown?”
“Not as much as green,” replied Lina as she rolled her eyes.
“Then green it is,” said Teresa. As she brushed out her hair, she watched Lina watch her in the mirror.
“May I borrow your red and white elastic band?”
“The one I’m wearing?”
“Oh! Yes, that one! I love that one!”
Lina pulled the scrunchy out of her hair and handed it to her cousin.
“Thank you so very much.”
Lina figured Teresa was just in one of her moods. Without another word, Lina went to the kitchen to see what her Aunt Paola had cooked.
On the kitchen table, there was enough food for a holiday gathering. Casseroles of beans and potatoes and carrots surrounded a large platter of sweet roasted ham.
“Is your cousin awake?”
Lina nodded, “We will never be able to each so much.”
“What you don’t eat, I’ll pack up and you can take home.”
“Where should I sit?”
“Wherever you want.”
Just then, Teresa came out of the bedroom and joined everyone at the table. Uncle Jorge led the prayer, giving thanks for good food and great company. Everyone said Amen and then began eating.
“That’s a pretty ponytail holder. It looks just like Lina’s,” said Aunt Paola.
“It is mine,” grumbled Lina.
“I don’t have a ponytail holder of my own,” replied Teresa.
Uncle Jorge cleared his throat. “I think this would be a perfect time to give you two your going-away presents.”
“We get presents?” asked Teresa.
“You sure do. I have a feeling they’ll come in handy right about now.”
Uncle Jorge reached under his chair and pulled out two small boxes. One had a green ribbon. The other had a red ribbon.
“The one with the red ribbon belongs to Lina and the one with the green ribbon belongs to Teresa.”
“Just like our favorite colors. How did you know?” said Teresa.
Uncle Jorge smiled, “An Uncle knows these things.”
Teresa and Lina opened their boxes at the same time. As they removed the lids, each of the girls crinkled their noses. Teresa held up a black ponytail holder and lina held up a pink hair band. Teresa crinkled up her nose.
“Don’t you like it?” asked Aunt Paola.
“It’s…nice,” she replied.
Lina also wore an unpleasant face as she frowned at the hair band.
“You don’t like yours, either?”
“Well…”
“I think it’s pretty,” said Teresa.
“Would you like to trade?”
“Boy, would I!” exclaimed Teresa. The girls exchanged gifts. Teresa pulled the red and white ponytail holder out of her hair, handing it to Lina.
Lina wore her old ponytail holder around her wrist while she tried out the new black one. Lina smiled, happy with her new accessory. Teresa pulled her pink hair band over her forehead, pushing her hair out of her eyes.
“Perfect!” said Uncle Jorge.
“Perfect,” answered Lina.
After everyone ate to their heart’s content, Aunt Paola packed some sweet ham for the trip. Uncle Jorge also gave the girls bundles of Suri fur to take back to Arequipa.
Everyone squeezed into Uncle Jorge’s hatchback and rode to the Airport. Aunt Paola and Uncle Jorge kissed the girls goodbye and wished them a safe journey. As the plane took off, they stood in the parking lot and watched the jet fly into the sunset.
Although Lina had dreamt of being a world traveler, this summer she had gotten quite enough of planes, trains, busses, motorcycles, and fishing boats to last her quite a while. Arriving home was the only thing she wanted now.
Life in Arequipa was much the same as when they left. The girls returned to their daily lives, going to school and studying hard. Months passed in the blink of an eye. The girls almost forgot what living on the Alpaca Ranch was like. In fact, the excitement they brought back from their trip died soon after the school year started. It wasn’t until some time later that Lina Vasquez was remind of her Uncle Jorge and Aunt Paola Vasquez.
In early December, condors flew high above Arequipa, Lina and Teresa joined their mother and father for the Festival of the Immaculate Conception.
Lina and Teresa sat in the cathedral, listening to the bell choir. Bell ringers stood in a line, wearing purple robes and holding polished brass bells in the gloved hands. They played songs celebrating the Virgin Mary. Sunshine streamed through the slits of stained glass windows. Lina giggled as she thought about Uncle Jorge.
“What’s so funny?” Teresa whispered.
“Uncle Jorge and the magic egg.”
Teresa chuckled. “That was funny.”
“Shhh!” commanded her mother.
The girls sat in the pew, whispering back and forth during Mass. As soon as they arrived home, Aunt Beatriz scolded the girls.
“The two of you were awfully talkative during Mass.”
“We’re sorry,” replied Carolina, “we were just talking about Uncle Jorge and Aunt Paola.”
“You miss them?” asked Beatriz.
“I do,” said Carolina.
“Me, too,” added Teresa.
“You’ll see them next summer,” said Aunt Beatriz.
“It seems so far away,” sighed Teresa.
“It’ll be here before you know it.”
As was tradition, the Feast of the Immaculate Conception was a time for quiet prayer and good food. Everyone changed out of their good clothes while Aunt Beatriz fixed a hearty breakfast, including sweet roasted ham and fried eggs. She scrambled a pan of eggs with onions and tomatoes. She made a second pan, with only eggs and cheese, for Teresa.
“May I have an egg?” asked Teresa.
“I’m cooking yours right now,” replied Aunt Beatriz.
“I’d like a fresh one, in the shell,” she said.
“What on earth for?”
“A magic trick,” replied Teresa.
Teresa went to her seat at the kitchen table with her egg. She balanced the egg on its end.
“Tah-dah!” she exclaimed.
“You can’t do that! It’s Immaculate Conception!” cried out Lina.
The girls laughed themselves silly, until they finally told the story of Uncle Jorge, the hitching post of the sun, and the magic egg.
“That sounds just like our little brother,” chuckled Uncle Arturo.
“As stubborn as a mule,” added Uncle Jose.
Still, the girls missed their Uncle. In addition to his stubbornness, he was a good joke teller. Sometimes, the girls would laugh until their sides hurt and Aunt Paola would have to get him to stop.
Uncle Jorge’s favorite part of the summer wasn’t the extra workers, but two extra bodies to liven up the otherwise quiet and lonely house.
Although Aunt Paola cooked for Uncle Jorge every night, it seemed a rare occasion that they got to enjoy each other’s company during dinner half as much as they did in the summertime. Aunt Paola would also miss the girls.
“Mom?” asked Carolina.
“Yes, dear?”
“Can we write a letter to Aunt Paola and Uncle Jorge?”
“I think that would be a splendid idea.”
As soon as the girls finished their last bite of sweet roasted ham and fried eggs, they went off to the bedroom with pencil and paper.


Dear Uncle and Auntie,

We spent Immaculate Conception eating and balancing eggs. School is fun. Teresa read four books about Machu Picchu for her reading class. She had some things she wants to show you when we return. Lina is taking a sewing class. She has been learning how to work the loom. She is making a poncho with the Alpaca fur we took home.
Our moms and dads both say ‘hello’ and wish they could see you for the holidays. If not, maybe they will drive us out to Cusco next time we visit.

Take care and kiss Paco for us,
Teresa and Lina

They folded the envelope and sealed it with a stamp and a kiss. Carolina placed it in the mailbox. The next day, the postman picked it up and delivered it with care to the post office. The note rode in a plane to Cusco, where another postman delivered it to the mailbox of Aunt Paola and Uncle Jorge.
Aunt Paola read it to Uncle Jorge one night during dinner. Afterwards, she tucked the note back into the envelope and kept it with all her other cherished notes, tucked in the pages of her bible.
Late at night, she sat at her kitchen table and wrote the girls.


Dearest Lina and Teresa,

There is not an evening your Uncle and I do not share memories of this last summer. We have made it a regular activity to eat dinner at the kitchen table. We both miss you a ton. We hope your studies are going well. Uncle Jorge is anxious to wear his poncho.
Even now, Uncle Jorge would not believe the truth about eggs and the Equinox. I balanced an egg on the table for him today. Unfortunately, tomorrow is the Equinox. He argues that this proves his point even more. Eggs can only balance on the their end during Equinox and the Solstice.
I don’t think I’ll ever win!

Take care,

Auntie Paola

Lair of the Mountain Kings

The Andes Mountains rose around Lina and her family. A lush green tapestry of trees covered the steep mountain walls surrounding them. Her eyes followed the mountain upward. A dirt trail zigzagged up the mountain, leading to the stone ruins of Machu Picchu at the crest.
“We have to climb all the way up there?” asked Teresa.
“We can take a bus, if you’d like,” said Uncle Jorge.
“I’d like that very much,” said Teresa.
“Me, too,” said Aunt Paola.
They loaded onto a bus and off it went. A dust cloud sprayed from the wheels as the bus sped along. Trees whooshed by as the bus went faster and faster. Again, Lina and Teresa looked out their windows, as the world passed them by.
The bus slowed as it reached the switchback. It turned carefully, tracing a path uphill. Periodically, the bus passed by backpackers who climbed the steps alongside the bus road.
Alpacas waited on the hillside near Machu Picchu, too.
“Where do you think the Alpaca farm is located?” asked Teresa.
“There isn’t a farm. Those are wild Alpacas.”
The bus came to a stop again. Another bus was sat in their way. The clutch whirred as the bus driver put the bus into reverse. As was the custom, the bus headed downhill had the right of way. Lina’s bus backed down the hill to the next switchback, where the bus coming downhill passed safely. The bus continued on again, speeding uphill.
With each turn, Lina could see parts of the dirt road above and below. She could also see parts of Machu Picchu at each switchback. The higher up the hill the bus traveled, the more she saw. After almost a dozen switchbacks, the bus came to the clearing below the ruins.
Everyone gathered outside the bus, while Uncle Jorge made plans for where they would go first.
“Oh Jorge, let’s let the girls discover the area by themselves.”
“But I wanted to show them Huayna Picchu.”
“We can go up there later.”
“Alright, we’ll meet right here in one hour.”
“One hour?” asked Lina.
“Two hours?”
“Two hours is better,” replied Lina. She grabbed her cousin by the hand and ran towards the ruins.
“I want you girls to stay together,” Uncle Jorge called after his nieces. They ran through an opening, disappearing into the maze of stone walls and old castle ruins.
As Teresa ran after Lina, she dragged her hand on the wall. Her fingertips passed effortlessly over the seams between stones. The sandstone felt smooth under her touch.
“They’re like giant bricks!” she exclaimed.
“But there’s no cement to hold them together!” Lina called back.
Lina turned left and right down pathways until she was deep in the heart of the ruins. Other people strolled through the ruins as Lina and Teresa continued running along.
Teresa broke free of Lina’s grasp and darted in the opposite direction. Lina followed for a few moments, then turned back. They played hide-and-seek in the citadel, ducking through passageways and hiding around corners.
Lina poked her head over a section of wall. She could see the top of Teresa’s pony-tailed head bobbing along. Lina snuck through an opening in the wall and jumped around the corner, ready to pounce her cousin.
The pony tail did not belong to Teresa at all, but another Peruvian girl, about the same height and weight as Teresa.
“I thought you were someone else,” apologized Lina. The girl motioned down the walkway. Lina followed her directions, running through the maze of rooms and hallways in the citadel. As she turned a corner, her body smacked into Uncle Jorge’s stout figure. Teresa stood between Uncle Jorge and Aunt Paola.
“There you are. I thought I told you two to stay together,” said Uncle Jorge.
“We were just playing hide-and-go-seek,” replied Lina.
‘This isn’t a place for running around. From now on, the two of you will stay with us.”
Lina lowered her head and pouted, fallingl into step behind her Uncle. For a short time, they continued walking through the ruins of the Citadel. They strolled along, like everyone else. Finally, Uncle Jorge stopped in his tracks and turned about to face Lina.
“I’m not mad with you. It’s just that Machu Piccu is a sacred place.”
“I know, Uncle Jorge.”
“Have you ever heard of the seven wonders of the world? You’re standing inside one right now. Centuries ago, Incas built this fortress. This was before trucks and busses. Imagine the great effort that would take.”
Lina turned her head about. It was quite a thing to imagine, men hauling stones up the mountainside, using only horses and old wagons.
She tilted her head, looking downhill. A long dirt-colored squiggle ran down the side of the mountain. Busses traveled up and down the dirt road. Uncle Jorge tugged at Lina’s shoulder.
“I still have something I want to show you,” he said.
The girls followed Uncle Jorge through the maze of rooms and hallways. He led them through the citadel, climbing up stone steps as he went further and further up the hill.
“How much further?” asked Lina.
“One more set of steps,” reassured her Uncle.
They followed Uncle Jorge up the steps. In the clearing, a crowd gathered around a tower, made of stone.
“Here we are,” said Uncle Jorge.
“What is it?” asked Lina.
“The hitching post of the sun.”
“I don’t see any hitching post,” said Teresa.
“Actually, that tower is the temple of the sun. Inside, that’s where you’ll find the hitching post.”
Uncle Jorge cut through the crowd. He was eager to show the girls the hitching post of the sun. Inside the tower, more people stood around a small altar. Atop the alter was a short post, made of stone. On either side, there were marks.
“Come here, let me show you something,” Uncle Jorge waggled a figner towards the girls, urging them closer.
Rays of light shone through a slit in the tower. A thin shaft shone down on the hitching post, lining up with a mark on the pedestal.
“Do you know what today is?” asked Uncle Jorge.
“The Festival of the Sun?” stuttered Teresa.
“Correct!. Today is also the shortest day of the year. It is the only day light shines through that hole and onto this altar.”
Uncle Jorge pointed to another slit in the wall of the tower.
“When light shines through that hole, it’s the longest day of the year. The hitching post marked the seasons. The Incas used the hitching post to separate the seasons.”
“But how did they know?” asked Lina.
“The sun and the moon are very powerful natural forces.”
Uncle Jorge leaned over the altar and plucked the egg out of his pocket.
“I’ve always wanted to do this,” he said.
He sat the egg on the altar, then carefully balanced it between his fingers. When he let loose of the egg, it stood on one end. Everyone gasped.
“How did you do that? Is that a magic trick?” asked Teresa.
“It’s not magic. It’s called the Equinox.”
“Today is not the Equinox. Those are in the spring and fall,” said Aunt Paola.
“Yes it is,” argued Uncle Jorge.
Just then, one of the tour guides stepped up.
“Senor, I have to agree with the lady,” said the female tour guide, “Today is not the Equinox. Equinox occurs in fall and spring, when day and night are of equal length.”
”Then why can I balance the egg on its end?”
“If you are patient, you can balance an egg on one end every day of the year, even on the Winter Solstice, which is what we call today.”
Uncle Jorge started to open his mouth, but a male tour guide nodded his head in agreement with the female tour guide. Uncle Jorge blushed, embarrassed by his confusion. He grabbed his egg and returned it to the safety of his jacket pocket.
Uncle Jorge led Aunt Paola and the girls out of the temple of the sun. As they crossed the top of the mountain ridge, Lina stopped and pointed toward the large mountain peak facing Machu Picchu.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“That’s Huayna Picchu, also known as the new peak,” answered Uncle Jorge. Lina turned toward her Aunt, who quickly nodded her head.
“I know what Huayna Picchu is,” grumbled Uncle Jorge. He continued on across the ridge toward stairs that led down the mountainside. The girls followed along, On either side of the steps, the ground was terraced, like the pasture at Uncle Jorge’s ranch.
“Why are there pastures here if I don’t’ see many Alpaca?” asked Teresa.
Uncle Jorge grumbled as he continued down the steps.
“Jorge, are you going to answer her question?”
“Why don’t you?”
“Because you’re the farmer,” said Aunt Paola.
Uncle Jorge huffed, then turned about. Teresa’s eyes were wide with wonder. She had already forgotten about her Uncle embarrassment. Instead, she wanted to know about the terraces.
“Have a seat,” said Uncle Jorge.
They lined up, sitting in a row along the the stone row of the terrace. Teresa kicked her feet.
“Everywhere your look around Cusco, there’s a mountain. What do you think if you planted potatoes on the side of a mountain?” asked Uncle Jorge.
Teresa shrugged her shoulders.
Uncle Jorge plucked the egg out of his pocket and placed it on a mound of dirt. It rolled down the mound, falling off the stone ledge made by the fence. Lina’s hand snapped out, catching the egg before it cracked on the ground below.
“They’d roll down the mountain. That would be fine if eveyrone lived at the bottom of the hill,” said Uncle Jorge, ”What if they live near the top of the mountain, like me?”
“I guess we’d be riding the truck into Cusco to eat potatoes,” giggled Lina as she tucked the egg into her pocket.
“I guess you’re right,” laughed Uncle Jorge.
“Everything the Inca did at Machu Picchu seemed to be one of the wonders of the world,” said Teresa.
“Every day I’m reminded of the wonders ancient Peruvians accomplished. Whether it was the Temple of the Sun, Aguas Calientes, or the stone terraces, or the Lost City of Machu Picchu.”
“I guess I’m proud to be an Inca,” said Teresa.
“Every summer, I’m reminded how proud I am,” added Lina.
“I just wish I brought you up here earlier. Now the summer’s over and we’re out of time” sighed Uncle Jorge.
“Machu Picchu will be here next year, right?”
“I’m pretty sure.”
“Then it’s a date,” said Lina.
Before the sun disappeared below the horizon, Uncle Jorge led the girls to the pickup spot for the busses. They returned down the hill the way they came, zigzagging down the dirt road, leaving a trail of dust behind. At the bottom of the hill, the train’s whistle blew again. The girls fell asleep in Uncle Jorge and Aunt Paola’s arms before the train even left the station.
By the time they arrived at the Ranch, everything was dark. For one final night, they were tucked into bed by Uncle Jorge and Aunt Paola. The cool mountain air blew in through the window. The girls slept in peace, visions of ancient Inca civilizations filled their dreams.

Aguas Calientes

People filtered in and out of the station, waiting to board the train. Carolina and her family walked through the station, passing the blue train with said “Peru Rail” in faded yellow letters across the side. Uncle Jorge approached the ticket counter.
“When is the next train to Aquas Calientes?”
“You’re in luck. We still have space on this one.”
“I’ll take four tickets,” said Uncle Jorge.
Yet again, this was another brave new adventure for Teresa. This was also Carolina’s first time aboard a train. There was nothing Carolina loved more than traveling. One day, she wanted to become a world traveler, taking every sort of vehicle ever made. Today, she could cross passenger train off her list.
Uncle Jorge handed out the tickets and led the way to passenger car fourteen. It was the last car, nearest the caboose. They handed their tickets to the porter. He tore Lina’s ticket in half, placing a stub in her hand.
Backpackers and passengers with pillow-sacks crowded onto the train.
Uncle Jorge led the way, counting each compartment as he passed it, “A…B…C…D. This is compartment D. It must be ours.”
Lina and Teresa grabbed window seats. With one more blow of the whistle, the engine pulled out of the station. As each passenger car pulled tight, the couplers clacked into place. Their car lurched forward and they were on their way to Machu Pichu.
Lina pushed on the window sash so she could poke her head out the window. Mountains rose on either side of the train as it chugged through the valley. Several small farms lined the railway. Alpacas, llamas, and ostriches stood behind wire fences, watching the passengers in the train passing by.
Teresa waved at each farmhouse as the train passed.
“Hello, llamas!” she called out.
“Hello, ostriches!” said Lina.
“Hello, alpacas!” said Teresa.
“Hello silly girls,” said Uncle Jorge.
The girls chuckled as they greeted everything they passed, including light poles, rocks, and backpackers on the hiking trails.
Further into their trip, the train passed by several waterfalls. As the train crossed over a stream, its iron wheels clacked on the wooden bridge trestles. Just down the stream, a waterfall poured over the cliff, splashing in a ravine next to the bridge.
The train jostled from side-to-side, as if it were tip-toeing down the tracks. Just ahead, the stream crossed beneath the train again, opening into a wide river that ran alongside the train.
“We’re just about there,” said Uncle Jorge.
“That was a short trip. We should have just walked,” said Teresa.
“Soon, there will be plenty of trails to hike. You’ll be glad for every moment you get to rest your feet,” chuckled Uncle Jorge.
The train pulled into the station. Brakes squealed and wheels clacked, slower and slower, until the train stood in front of the station. Small hotels huddled next to the station.
Everyone got out of their seats and exited at the rear of the train. Lina took a deep breath as she adjusted her daypack on her shoulders. The clean smell of river water filled the air. In a way, the smell of the river water refreshed her. She exhaled and stepped off the train.
The river ran just beside the train tracks, cutting right through town. White water splashed against the rocks in the river. Steam rose between the trees and filled the skies. Clouds crept down the hills, blanketing the train station in a foggy, white haze.
“I’m getting hungry,” said Uncle Jorge, “Let’s stop at a restaurant for lunch.”
“Lina and I just ate tamales,” said Aunt Paola.
“I could eat some more,” said Lina.
“Teresa and I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”
“I suppose I could sit for a cup of coffee,” said Aunt Paola.
A family restaurant sat just next to the train station. People relaxed in the café, while backpackers busily prepared their packs. Uncle Jorge climbed stairs to the balcony. He sat at a table on the patio overlooking the train station.
“Now we can watch the people as they come and go,” said Uncle Jorge.
The waiter took their order and returned with a tray full of bowls. He returned with a tray full of food. placed bowls of spicy yucca soup in front of Jorge and both girls. While they slurped their soup, Aunt Paola enjoyed a cup of coffee.
“Mmm, it tastes like the coffee beans were freshly ground this morning,” said Aunt Paola.
“It smells fresh. May I have a taste?” asked Lina.
“Be careful, it’s hot,” said Aunt Paola. Lina blew across the top of the coffee cup. After a few moments, she carefully took a sip. Although the smell was pleasant enough for Lina, she could not bear the strong taste of the coffee. She puckered her face as she passed the mug back across the table.
As the waiter returned to the patio, Lina flagged him down.
“May I please have a large glass of ice water?”
“Coming right up,” he said.
Lina took several large bites of soup, trying to get rid of the coffee taste. Bits of sage and mingled with sweet red peppers and Yucca. Even the spicy red peppers in the Yucca soup did little to neutralize the bitterness.
“Have you ever tried coffee before?”
Lina shook her head.
“Maybe next time we’ll try something for beginning coffee drinkers,” she chuckled.
Lina continued eating her soup. The thick broth filled her stomach and cleared her appetite. The waiter returned with Teresa and Uncle Jorge’s tacquitos, in addition to Lina’s ice water.
She took a sip of ice water and breathed a sigh of relief. The coffee taste was gone.
“Aguas frias!” she exclaimed.
“Can I have a glass of ice water, too?” begged Teresa.
“Would anyone else like some ice water?” asked the waiter.
“I think we would all like a glass,” said Aunt Paola.
“Your wish is my command,” said the waiter.
As Lina drank her ice water, she watched the passengers walking along the rapids of the Aguas Calientes. She had a thought.
“The water in the river looks cold.”
“It is cold,” answered Aunt Paola.
“Then why do they call it Aguas Calientes?”
“There are several hot springs here.”
“A hot spring?”
“Freshwater pools heated with hot spring water from deep in the earth.”
“Really?”
“Underground water is heated by the volcanoes in this area.”
“Can we go to the hot springs?” begged Teresa.
“We can make a little time for it,” said Uncle Jorge.
They finished their meal and hiked down a trail. The stream broke off in one direction as the trail went the opposite way. They crossed a foot bridge high over the ravine below. On the other side, the trail continued, Everyone carefully walked up the wooden steps, slick with water. On the other side of the hill, they climbed down another set of steps. To Lina, the steps seemed steep. She reached out and grabbed her Uncle’s shirt tail. At the bottom of the steps, the river joined up with the trail again.
They came to a small clearing, where people were seated in tiny hot tubs, painted blue like swimming pools. The water from the hot springs bubbled in each group’s spa.
“It’s not what I imagined,” sighed Lina.
“Me neither,” added Teresa.
“What did you expect?”
“I expected large bubbling mud pits.”
“Who would want to get into those?” chuckled Uncle Jorge.
“I don’t know,”
“Well, you were sort of right,” interrupted Aunt Paola, “hot springs in caves are just like that. These hot springs are made for humans.”
“What are the hot springs like?”
“Look up at the trees,” she pointed up to steam that rose through the forest, “Sometimes, steam rises from the ground in a hot cloud, like steam from a hot cup of coffee or boiling water.”
“What about other times?”
“You blew on my coffee before you tasted it. Why?”
“It was hot.”
“That’s because you knew from experience. Some hot springs are exactly the same. They look like regular water, but they’re not.”
“Let’s get going. We still have a long way to go,” said Uncle Jorge.
As Lina turned away from the hot springs, a chilly mountain breeze swept across her face. She pulled her wool cap over her ears. Even though Carolina had spent the last four summers in Cusco, she still hadn’t gotten used to the cold mountain air.
Just down the hill, busses were lined up. Even most of the backpackers were climbing aboard the busses. Everyone hurried along, go to the top of the mountain.

Marinera

Lina and Teresa worked every day on the ranch with Uncle Jorge. Not only did they work with the Alpaca, but they helped in other ways, too. They put hay in the loft and tightened the loose screws on the stall doors. They even took two days off from the Alpaca to paint the barn, inside and out.
As the days were always warm, the nights were always cold. Even during the hottest stretch of summer, it never got hot enough to leave a coat behind. Lina discovered that fact on road trips along winding mountain roads with Uncle Jorge. Today was just another one of those cold summer days.
Aunt Paola raised a soupspoon in front of her mouth, blowing gently to cool the broth.
“Would somebody like to taste it for me?”
Teresa volunteered. Aunt Paola held out the spoon. Chunks of chicken, potato, and onions peppered the creamy yellow broth. Teresa took a sip, and then fanned her mouth.
“It’s hot!” exclaimed Teresa.
“Does it need anything?”
“It tastes very good. What kind of soup is it?”
“Aquaditos de Pollo.”
The rich and chunky chicken soup warmed Teresa’s tummy.
“It really hits the spot,” said Teresa.
“You’re just saying that,” said Aunt Paola.
“Some days it’s so cold, I wish we could have this for breakfast.”
“Today your wish is my command. Everyone wash their hands and faces while I set the table,” said Aunt Paola. Uncle Jorge and the girls crowded around the bathroom, taking turns cleaning themselves.
They gathered at the kitchen table. Teresa led the prayer, and then everyone enjoyed Aunt Paola’s soup.
“What will we be doing today?”
“We’re going on a field trip,” announced Uncle Jorge.
“We’re getting something for the Alpaca?” asked Lina.
“No.”
“Are we going to fix the barn?” asked Teresa.
“No.”
“Then what are we going to do?” asked Lina.
“We’re going to the Inti Raymi.”
“I love Inti Raymi,” said Lina.’
“What is it?” asked Teresa.
“It’s the Festival of the Sun,” answered Aunt Paola, “There’s music and dancing and food. So many people gather around to celebrate.”
“That sounds fun.”
“It’s my favorite time of year,” said Aunt Paola, “Now, hold out your hands for me.” She dug through her change purse, counting through the coins inside.
“50 Nueva Sol apiece. That’s yours to spend any way you please,” commanded Aunt Paola.
“Thank you, Aunt Paola,” said Lina.
“Thank you,” said Teresa. She counted through her coins again. She had fifty soles, just as her Aunt promised. She tucked the coins into her pocket for safe-keeping, patting her jeans with her hand.
“We’d better get going,” said Uncle Jorge, “I don’t want to miss anything.”
Everyone loaded into the hatchback and rode towards the festival. The car swerved through streets that zig-zagged through Cusco. Even before they arrived, Lina heard festival music. The sound of trumpets, drums, and flutes filled the air.
“It’s getting too crowded to drive. We’ll have to walk the rest of the way,” said Uncle Jorge. He parked his car on the street. Everyone climbed out.
Not only were there many cars on the streets, but Lina also noticed yellow mini-busses like the ones at the airport. People filled the sidewalks, traveling this way and that. Mostly, they were walking toward the festival, like Lina and her family.
Three rows of stone, built like short castle towers lined the valley. Like Uncle Jorge said, the Sacsayhuaman Fortress was quite a wonder, each stone carefully stacked into its proper place.
A wide arena opened up in front of the wall. Dancers in bright red and yellow costumes performed, singing, dancing, and playing instruments. The dancers.
Uncle Jorge found a spot and sat down to watch the performers. One performer, clothed in a colorful headdress stood in the middle of the arena. He chanted as he raised his hands toward the sky.
“What is he doing?” asked Teresa.
“He’s imitating the prayers of the Ancient Incan priests. Today is the shortest day of the year, so they would pray to the Inca Sun God, for the sun’s return.”
The performers danced and chanted as the crowd watched. Uncle Jorge tapped his feet to the beat of the music. After a short while, Lina grew hungry. She tapped her Aunt on the shoulder and whispered into her ear. Aunt Paola took Lina by the hand and led her to another part of the festivities.
Aunt Paola walked to a counter, where an old man was selling tamales. Aunt Paola and Lina each ordered one tamale and a drink to share. The man wrapped the tamales and placed them on the counter. Aunt Paola handed the box to Lina while she paid for the tamales.
“I thought I was supposed to use my money,” said Lina.
“You can use it for yourself.”
“I thought I was.”
“I will pay for the food. You buy something fun.”
A short walk through the crowd led to another group of performers. Dressed in ornamental costumes, a couple danced for a crowd. They held their backs straight and stomped their feet as they circled each other. The man held a white handkerchief in his hand. He waved it in the air with each step. Each step the man and woman took were deliberate and calculated.
“Is this part of the festival, too?” asked Lina.
“I don’t think so. They’re dancing the Marinera. It’s not a tribal dance.”
“Where did It come from?”
“It came from everywhere.”
“What do you mean?”
“Listen to the music. It’s a little bit Spanish, a little bit Gypsy music, and a little bit tribal rhythms,”
“You can hear all that?” asked Lina.
Aunt Paola nodded her head. “The music and dancing tells the Peruvian story, from the Spanish sailors who came here centuries ago, to the wandering Inca tribesmen, who ruled over much of South America. This dance represents our past.”
Lina mimicked the Marinera dancers, holding a napkin like the man held his handkerchief. She danced around her Aunt.
“You are such a lovely dancer,” said Aunt Paola.
“It’s easy,” said Lina.
Aunt Paola turned her head toward Lina. Lina continued circling her Aunt. Her flourishes became more animated, like the male dancer in the middle of the crowd.
“I wish I could do that,” said Aunt Paola.
“You can do it. All you need is your napkin,” said Lina.
Aunt Paola grasped her napkin in her hand and straightened her posture. As Lina circled Aunt Paola, she stomped the ground with her feet. Aunt Paola grabbed Lina by the waist and swung her around. The more they danced, the faster Aunt Paola spun her niece about.
“Auntie, I have to sit down and rest. I’m getting dizzy.”
Aunt Paola let go of Lina. Uncle Jorge had been watching the girls for quite some time. When Lina sat down, he took her place. He borrowed Lina’s napkin and gave it a whirl about Aunt Paola’s head. She winked at her husband and continued dancing. He wrapped his hand about her waist and spun her around.
Soon, Aunt Paola had changed from spinner to spinee. She became dizzy, too. She pulled away from Uncle Jorge, collapsing next to Lina. The crowd cheered Aunt Paola. She got back to her feet and curtseyed, then sat down again.
“That was some fun,” said Lina.
“It sure was,” chuckled Aunt Paola. Meanwhile, Uncle Jorge grabbed Teresa and danced with her. Other couples followed along, joining the Marinera dancers in the middle of the circle.
“Look what you started,” said Lina.
Aunt Paola smiled, “It wasn’t me. It was the dance. Marinera is in every Peruvian’s blood. That’s why it’s called the National Dance of Peru.“
Lina watched her cousin and Uncle dancing. She began understanding what her Aunt meant. The Marinera was a very romantic dance, filled with a wide variety of movements. The song finished and everyone in the crowd applauded.
Uncle Jorge and Teresa joined the other two. Uncle Jorge breathed heavily, winded from the dancing.
“How can you be tired? You work all day long,” asked Aunt Paola.
“I usually walk from one place to another in the barn,” answered Uncle Jorge.
“Maybe you should try dancing from now on,” said Lina.
“I think that was enough for awhile.” Uncle Jorge relaxed on the ground. The rest of the family joined him. Teresa stared into the clear blue sky.
“The cold ground feels so good,” she said.
“It sure does,” agreed Aunt Paola.
“What would you girls like to do after this?” asked Uncle Jorge.
Just then, a train whistle blew in the distance. Lina sat up and looked in the direction of the sound. The train at Aquas Calientes was ready to take sightseers through the mountains.
“That train whistle just gave me an idea. I’ll give everyone one guess what it is,” said Lina.
“Haven’t you been up to the ruins before?” asked Uncle Jorge.
“Nope.”
“I haven’t been there, either,” said Teresa.
“I guess this would be as good a time as any to visit.”
Uncle Jorge stood up, dusting the dirt off his clothes. He reached down, helping each of the girls up to her feet.
As they walked toward the train station, the train whistle blew again. A large gray-black cloud rose from the smokestack. Everyone joined hands, walking side-by-side.
Each of the girls was anxious to visit Machu Pichu. They had read about it in books and often wondered what it was like. Although Aunt Paola had lived in Cusco her entire life, she had not visited the ruins since she was Teresa’s age. She, too, was anxious.
Uncle Jorge had been there as recent as last Spring. Still, he was anxious, too. The ancient Inca ruins on top of the mountains filled Uncle Jorge with pride.
As they reached the station, they found the the next train would not leave for nearly an hour. Still, each of them figured the journey was worth the wait.
Uncle Jorge bought four train tickets. He passed them out then sat on a bench, waiting for the next train to arrive

Jorge's Gold

A thick ribbon of gray smoke rose behind the house. Aunt Paola crouched next to the fire pit, fanning a fire with the tail of her dress.
A small pyramid of dirt sat alongside the fire pit. Between the dirt and the fire, Aunt Paola had set a covered dish. As the girls neared, she uncovered the dish, exposing raw chicken and lamb.
“Please help me wrap the meat,” she asked.
“What are you making?” asked Teresa.
“It looks like Pachamanca,” replied Lina, “are we having special visitors?”
“I suppose we could consider our nieces special, don’t you think so, Jorge?”
“I definitely do.”
“What is Pachamanca?” asked Teresa.
“Pachamanca is a buffet cooked under the ground. The Incas used to gather for celebrations, making a fire pit and loading it with fresh meat, vegetables, and tamales.”
“Why not cook it in the fireplace?”
“In a fire pit, food is slow-cooked, keeping the meat moist and tender.”
Aunt Paola had spent quite a part of the morning cooking. She began by digging a trench and lining it with stones. She placed wood atop the stones and lit it, making a fire. Now the embers glowed bright orange.
Now it was time to add the ingredients. A pile of guava leaves sat next to the fire pit. Aunt Paola wrapped pieces of chicken and lamb with the leaves. She carefully placed each piece in the fire. Everyone joined in,
Aunt Paola fetched the vegetables and the tamales from the kitchen and added them to the fire pit. After she finished, Uncle Jorge moved the dirt into the pit, making a new dirt mound. Now, everyone was gathered around the dirt mound, ready to eat.
“When will it be ready?” asked Teresa.
“About one hour.” replied Aunt Paola.
Uncle Jorge grabbed a chair and sat by the dirt mound. As everyone waited, Teresa spotted another pile next to the house. This one contained gold nuggets of all shapes and sizes. Teresa went over to the gold pile to investigate.
Tiny gold flecks glistened in the sunlight. Teresa grabbed a piece and rolled it in her hand. Lina and her Uncle watched from their seats.
“Do you know what that is?” asked Uncle Jorge.
“It looks like real gold,” replied Teresa.
“It is real gold,” said Uncle Jorge.
“Really?” gasped Teresa.
“Oh Jorge,” sighed Aunt Paola, “quit teasing her.”
Teresa looked at the stone, and then over to Uncle Jorge, who grinned slyly.
“Uncle Jorge, what is it, really?”
“It’s gold, I tell you.”
“Don’t let him bother you,” interrupted Aunt Paola, “It’s called fool’s gold. It’s a mineral that just looks like gold.”
“If you bring me a stone, I’ll show you a trick.”
Teresa walked over to her Uncle with a stone. He placed it on the ground and then grabbed a shovel. He held the shovel near the stone, waving it gently back and forth. The stone wobbled a bit, then stuck to the shovel. Teresa gasped and everyone else had a good laugh.
“How did you do that?”
“I didn’t do anything. Fool’s gold is nature’s own magnet. That’s one of the first ways you can tell real gold from fool’s gold.”
“Is that why you have it piled behind the house?”
“To use as a magnet? Heavens, no! When the boys were little, I used to hide the gold in the pasture. The boys would pretend to be Incas hunting for gold.”
“Did Incas really hunt for gold?”
“They sure did. One of the richest parts of our heritage is the Incas and their quest for gold.”
“How about we take turns hiding the gold?” said Teresa.
“I’m sorry but I’m tired,” said Uncle Jorge.
“I’ll hide the gold and you can find it,” said Lina.
“I think I should hide it first. I suggested it,” said Teresa.
“Okay, we’ll take turns. You can hide the gold first.”
Lina tucked her head in the hollow of her elbow, covering her eyes. Teresa picked up the fool’s gold and tucked it into every hiding place she could find.
“No peeking!” she called out.
“I’m not!”
After Teresa finished, it was Lina’s turn. She ran to the barn and uncovered two rocks buried in the hay. Just as quickly as she found the first two pieces of gold, she could not find another piece. In a short while, she returned to the fire pit and sat beside Uncle Jorge.
“You can’t give up.”
“I looked everywhere.”
“You must not have looked everywhere. You only have two pieces.”
“Teresa, I’m tired, too. I just want to sit and wait for lunch.”
Teresa ran through the pasture, rediscovering her gold. She returned the gold nuggets to their original home and sat down next to the fire.
“The food should be ready,” announced Uncle Jorge.
Uncle Jorge rose from his chair and grabbed a shovel. He carefully moved the dirt aside. Large stones covered the food inside the pit.
“Teresa, grab a shovel and help me lift these stones out of the fire pit.”
Teresa grabbed the shovel and moved closer to the fire.
“Be careful, dear,” urged Aunt Paola.
“I will.”
“When I place my shovel under a stone, I need you to place the shovel on the other side and gently roll it onto my shovel.”
The shovel scratched against the hot stone as Teresa dug the blade into the fire pit. She gently pushed the stone onto Uncle Jorge’s shovel. He lifted the hot stone out of the pit, placing it in the dirt. They continued until most of the reddest stones had been safely removed from the fire.
He knelt down, plucking the leaf-covered meat from the fire one piece at a time. As he pulled each fire-blackened potato from the fire, he juggled it from hand to hand to avoid getting burnt.
Aunt Paola knelt down beside Jorge, plucking hot tamales from the fire pit. They were also covered in charcoal. Some had even caught fire and had to be put out by Uncle Jorge.
After a short prayer, Aunt Paola handed out the tamales. Everyone sat around the fire and ate. Teresa got sand in her mouth with her first bite. She wiped the tamale briskly with her fingers, cleaning off dirt and ash. Uncle Jorge carefully peeled the leafy wrapper off a piece of chicken, eating it out of his hand.
“Sitting here with my nieces and looking over the valley. I am constantly reminded of my Inca heritage.”
“Why do you say that?” asked Teresa.
“Centuries ago, I imagine the Inca gathered by the Pachamanca pit, eating food and celebrating togetherness. At the greatest reach of their kingdom, the Incas of Cusco had tribes from Ecuador to Argentina. It must have been a grand time.”
“Do you think we had Inca relatives?” asked Teresa.
“Of course we did. They settled near Cusco in the Machu Pichu. It was a city high on a hill, made of great carved stones. Some were bigger than our car.”
“Can we go to Machu Pichu?” asked Lina.
“Not only will we go to Machu Pichu, we will also visit the Sagsaywaman Fortress,” replied Uncle Jorge.
“Sagsa-what?”
“Sag-say-wa-man. A great wall, stones stacked neatly, one on top of the other.”
“How did they stack these giant stones on top of each other?” asked Lina.
“Scientists think they used simple tools. They placed tree trunks on the ground and rolled the stones over them. They didn’t stack stones. Instead, they built ramps and pushed the stones up the slope.”
“That’s pretty smart,” said Teresa.
“Just like you used that shovel, the Incas used the things they had around them. Speaking of work, are you girls ready to go back to the stable?”
“Oh Jorge, the Alpaca can wait. The girls have only been here one day. You have a whole summer to wear them out.”
“Okay, we will rest. In a little while, I’ll hide the gold and you can look for it.”
“Thank the lord! My legs are so tired,” sighed Teresa.
“Me too,” said Lina agreeably.
Lina and Teresa’s legs were indeed too tired for working. Somehow, they were not too tired to run from one end of the pasture to the other, jumping up and down from the terraces.
Uncle Jorge relaxed with Aunt Paola on the back porch. The cold mountain air blew across his face. Unlike the girls, Uncle Jorge saved his energy for later. Right now, he was busy watching his nieces play two-person-tag in the pasture.
The girls finally quit playing just about the time Uncle Jorge decided to let the Alpaca out of their stalls. He filled their buckets with water and pellets, then enjoyed more Pachamanca goodies beside the half-dead fire.
Sun gave way to Moon and everyone went inside as cold air rushed down the mountainside. Although they worked half the day and played the rest, Uncle Jorge felt a great deal was accomplished.
He was glad Auntie Paola talked him into relaxing on the back porch. It reminded him of a job left unfinished. In the middle of the night, he sat alone in the living room, writing a letter to each of his boys.

Walking with Suri

Just before sunrise, Uncle Jorge was bouncing his hands on eich of the gir’s mattresses, literally bouncing each girl out of bed.
“Get up, get up! There’s no time to waste!” he said to Teresa.
Teresa groaned as she wiped her eyes. Her room was still dark. It was either very, very early in the morning or very, very late into the night.
“It’s so early.”
“We have lots to do and let’s get a jump start on the day.”
Aunt Paola was already up, crouched near the fire. She was frying eggs in a pan. Lina joined her, warming her body next to the fire.
“How was your night?” asked Aunt Paola.
“Cold,” replied Lina.
“I felt the breeze from your window. That’s what stirred me from bed.”
“I forgot how much colder it was here in the mountains.”
“You’ll get used to it in no time.”
“I hope so.”
After Teresa finished showering, she joined Aunt Paola and Lina near the fire. She sat next to Lina, her body shivering, wet and cold. She rubbed her hair in her hands, drying it by the fire.
Aunt Paola stirred together some warm milk and cocoa powder. She poured three cups of hot chocolate for the girls.
“Try warming yourself from the inside out,” offered Aunt Paola. The girls sipped from their cup and stared into the fire, hoping their bodies would soon warm.
“Where’s Uncle Jorge?” asked Teresa.
“He’s out in the barn, talking to the Alpaca.”
Uncle Jorge, on the other hand, loved a cold morning. His jump start began in a snap. He awoke briskly, moving from bed to shower to kitchen to stables.
“Then we’d better eat,” said Lina.
“Take your time. Your Uncle can wait.”
Aunt Paola sat with the girls, sipping her hot chocolate. For Aunt Paola, it was this rare occasion in the summer that she loved most, sitting with a child next to the fire, listening to the waking world.
Lina loved it too, but only because she was never much of a morning person. She always preferred tucking her head under a pile of blankets, waiting to be the last one out of bed. It was only in the summer when she got up in the morning. That was because she loved being on the mountainside with a pack of alpaca.
“I’m ready to go outside,” said Lina. Teresa tagged along behind her cousin, not wanting to be left behind.
Uncle Jorge had opened the stable doors, setting the Alpaca loose to roam the mountainsides. Meanwhile, Uncle Jorge was in the barn, spraying the floors with the hose.
“What are you doing, Uncle?” said Lina.
“Cleaning the floor. You want to help?”
“Sure.”
“Just wash the barn floor with this hose. I’ve got to go to the city to get some medicine. Lina, do you remember how to clean the stalls?”
“Of course, Uncle Jorge.”
“Would you do that for me while I’m gone?”
“Sure thing.”
Uncle Jorge backed the hatchback down the driveway and went into downtown. Lina picked up a rake and led Teresa into the first stall.
“Wet down each of the stalls so I can rake the sand.”
“Teresa squeezed on the hose nozzle, squirting a fine stream of water into the corner of the stall. Lina directed her hands, moving them in a waving motion. Lina let loose of the nozzle and pointed her cousin around the corner.
Lina combed the rake through the sand, creating grooves between the front and back of the stall. She then raked in a criss-crossing pattern, loosening the hard-pack of sand from the barn floor. She continued until all sand had been completely sifted. She grabbed a broom and swept away the excess silt before moving on to the next stall.
Teresa saw the name plaques above each of the stalls: Paco, Sarge, Pepe, Jumper, Dart, and Paco II.
Teresa sprayed the inside of each stall. Chunks of dirt and Alpaca fur floated over the damp sand floor, running into the middle of the barn. After she had hosed down each stall, she went into the center of the barn and sprayed the fur out the door.
“Now what?” asked Teresa.
“Do it again.”
“But it’s already clean,” Teresa groaned.
“Just do it again. I have to rake it again anyway.”
Teresa followed Lina’s orders. This time, the water flowed over the top of the damp sand floors of each stall, making them muddy. Teresa thought repeating work was silly. She sprayed the floors anyway, as her cousin commanded.
Carolina followed her, skimming the slime off the sand and raking it like she had done before. Meanwhile, Teresa continued spraying the excess sand out the door.
“Again?” asked Teresa.
“One more time,” said Carolina.
Teresa sprayed the stalls and Carolina raked them. Finally, they sat down for a break. Carolina pulled her poncho off her back and laid it over the fence. Her t-shirt was wet with perspiration.
“After we take a break, we’ll go back into the stalls with the rake and hose.”
“Again?”
“This time, we’ll spread fresh sand for the Alpacas.”
Just then, Uncle Jorge returned from the city. The girls ran up to the hatchback and greeted him. He had two bags. One was filled with medicine for the Alpaca and the other was filled with ingredients for bean burros.
“Teresa, take this to your Auntie. Lina, follow me to the pasture.”
Teresa ran the groceries inside, catching up to Uncle Jorge and Lina before they entered the barn.
“That was fast.”
“I didn’t want to miss anything.”
“We’re going to bring the Alpaca inside and give them shots.”
“Do we have to?”
“If we don’t, the Alpaca will get sick. Do you want that?”
“No, of course not.”
Teresa hiked through the field with Jorge and Lina. Stone walls divided the field into separate terraces. To Teresa, they looked like steps for a giant climbing through the mountains. To Uncle Jorge, the terraces kept the Alpaca’s hooves in shape and made farming the mountainside easier.
Lina grabbed As they walked through the pasture, the Alpacas climbed the terraces. Each time Uncle Jorge and the girls stepped up to a new terrace, the Alpacas moved further uphill.
“How do we catch them?” asked Teresa.
“We don’t.”
“Then what are we doing?”
“We’re herding them from the field to the barn.”
“How do we do that?”
“We’ll walk to the top of the mountain and they’ll walk to the bottom.”
“You have to do this every day?”
“Almost,” replied Uncle Jorge.
“It sure is a lot of work.” Teresa breathed heavily as she climbed the last terrace at the back of the pasture. Teresa realized why Carolina had removed her poncho. Teresa removed her poncho, too. She tied it around her waist.
When they reached the last terrace, Lina picked a leaf from one of the guava trees on the other side of the fence. She pressed it between her palms and blew against the leaf. It howled roughly, whistling as she moved her hand back and forth. Teresa grabbed a leaf and imitated her cousin.
Uncle Jorge shooed the Alpaca towards the barn, waving his hat back and forth. Uncle Jorge and the girls spread out in a long line, slowly walking down the terraces. By the time they stepped onto the last terrace, the Alpaca gathered at the feeding trough.
“Which one is Paco II?” asked Teresa.
“He’s the brown one.”
“And which one is Paco?”
“That one is Paco, and there’s Jumper, Pepe, Dart, and the one at the end, that’s Sarge.
“He looks old.”
“He was my first Alpaca. He’s as old as Lina.”
“I remember when he was as small as Paco II,” said Lina.
The Alpacas filtered through the barn. Some found their way to their stalls, others had to be led by their collars. Uncle Jorge fastened all doors but the one belonging to Sarge. He stepped into the stall, motioning for the girls.
“Lina, hold the harness for me.”
“What about me?”
“Oh, yea, right.” Uncle Jorge thought for a moment. “Teresa, you can pet his neck to keep him relaxed.”
Uncle Jorge went around to the back of Sarge, firmly grasping the old Alpaca by the hips. He unscrewed the cap on the needle and carefully fed the end into Sarge’s skin. The old Alpaca bucked against the side of his stall. Uncle Jorge gently moved the Alpaca to the center of his stall and injected the vitamins and medicine.
“That was easy, wasn’t it?” smiled Uncle Jorge.
“Do we have to do this to all of them?” asked Teresa.
“Like I told you, if we don’t, they will get sick and die.”
Uncle Jorge and Lina went on to the next stall, while Teresa stayed behinid. Sarge knelt in the sand, leaning against the side of the stall. Teresa continued petting his neck. Meanwhile, another Alpaca kicked in its stall, reacting to the sting of the needle.
“Lina, hold him still.”
“I am.”
“Grab him by the bridle, he’s pushing me into the wall.”
Lina pulled against Paco’s bridle. Paco tugged back. Uncle Jorge patted the Alpaca on the backside, then quickly injected the medicine. Paco bucked for a second, then stood still.
“That was easy,” chuckled Uncle Jorge.
“Only a few more to go,” reassured Lina. She had been through all of this before. The first time she saw a needle go into an Alpaca, she ran to the house crying. That was four years ago. Since then, she was present for all their summer shots of medicine and vitamins.
Uncle Jorge and Lina returned to Sarge’s stall, where Teresa was leaned against Sarge, using him as a giant pillow. Her eyes were puffy and red.
“It’s all over. Let’s get some lunch,” said Uncle Jorge, offering a hand. Teresa got up and went inside. She wasn’t sure if she really liked working at the Alpaca farm after all.

Perfect Purple Potatoes

While Teresa slept, Carolina unpacked her bags. It had been over a year since the last time she saw her Aunt and Uncle. There were stories to swap. Carolina could not wait to hear about her Cusco cousins, who were in Lima, working in Peru’s capital city. Likewise, Uncle Jorge could not wait to hear about his brothers, Arturo and Jose.
After she put away her clothes, she glanced around the room. She figured Aunt Paola must have cleaned the room before the girl’s arrival. Everything was perfect. Carolina inhaled deeply. “Almost everything,” she thought. The smell of soap and cleanser was still strong inside the room.
Carolina opened her bedroom window. Cool winds blew through the curtains until Carolina pushed them back. She had forgotten how much colder it was in the mountains. She went to the kitchen.
“Aunt Paola, do you have an extra poncho?”
“There should be some stored in the top of your closet.”
“Thanks! I must have missed them.”
Carolina returned to her closet. Sure enough, several colorful ponchos made of Alpaca wool were stacked in the top of the closet. Carolina pulled one down and pulled it over her head. Immediately, she felt warmer.
Aunt Paola remained at the kitchen sink. Colorful piles of vegetables were arranged on the cutting board: scallions, jalapenos and carrots. The vegetable piles reminded Carolina of an artist’s palette. Aunt Paola’s knife rocked back and forth on the board, mincing fresh parsley into tiny bits. She scrapped the knife along the board, picking up the parsley and placing in its own pile, next to the carrots. Aunt Paola pulled a flower pot from the window sill. She snapped several twigs of mint from the plant and ran the knife through it, too.
“Carolina dear, would you please do me a favor?”
“What is it?”
“I left a bushel of potatoes out near the stables. Would you fetch them?”
“Absolutely, my Auntie.” Carolina ran to the barn. Uncle Jorge had climbed down from the roof and was now working in the hayloft.
“!Buenas Tardes, mi Tio!” Carolina called out to her Uncle, wishing him a happy afternoon.
“Buenas Tardes, Carolina!” He used a pitchfork, turning the wet hay, so it would dry and not mold. He put down his pitchfork and motioned to Caroliina.
“While you’re down there, I need you to lend me a hand.”
“What can I do?”
“Hand me those wooden planks one at a time so I can finish fixing the roof.”
“Okay.” Carolina lifted the pieces of wood to Uncle Jorge. Hammered each plank into place on the roof. Soon, he had patched all of the holes. Now the Llamas and their hay could stay dry on rainy nights.
“Uncle?”
“Yes, Lina?” Carolina smiled. Her Uncle Jorge always used the nickname Lina, which Carolina preferred anyway.
“I was just wondering if I would be able to use the shearing razor this Summer.”
“I think you’re probably old enough to shear wool. Do you think you can hold a Llama?”
“Not by myself, but with my cousin’s help, I’m sure I could do it.”
“We will see.”
Just then, Aunt Paola came outside to see where her Potato-fetcher had gone.
“Lina, what’s taking so long?” she called out.
While she was helping her Uncle, Lina forgot why she had come outside in the first place. A small basket of blue and purple potatoes sat next to the feeding trough. Lina grabbed it and ran toward the house.
“I’m sorry, Auntie,” said Lina.
“That’s okay. I know you meant well. Come inside and help me in the kitchen.”
“I’d love to,” replied Carolina.
“Can you wash the potatoes for me?”
Without answering, Lina poured the potatoes into the kitchen sink and turned on the cold-water faucet. She held the potatoes under the running water, rubbing off the dirt with her hands. She grabbed a heavy brush and finished cleaned them, while Aunt Paola peeled them. Aunt Paola mixed the clean potatoeswith the other vegetables in a large kettle. She sprinkled cheese over the vegetables and moved the kettle to the fire.
“What now?” asked
“Rocoto Rellenos,” replied Aunt Paola.
“I haven’t had those since last year,” exclaimed Lina.
Aunt Paola filled her apron with hot peppers from the refrigerator and unloaded them onto the counter. Carolina cut them in half and placed them on the coutner. Meanwhile, Aunt Paola made the spicy beef stuffing, mixing in scallions and cayenne powder. She kneaded the beef on the counter then used a spoon to fill the pepper halves.
“Let’s put these in the kettle, too.”
Aunt Paola carefully lifted the kettle lid and Lina placed the Rellenos on top of the Purple Potato Casserole. Aunt Paola returned the lid to its place and undid her apron. She slipped out of her sandals and laid on the couch for a rest. Still anxious, Lina looked for something to do. She found a piece of string and tied the ends together, making a giant loop.
Lina wove the string through her fingers, making different designs with the string. First, she made a broom, and then a crow. After that, she created a stirng-man, his hands and legs stretched between her hands.
“How did you do that?” asked Aunt Paola.
“It’s easy. Let me show you.” Lina moved closer to her Aunt. She slowly demonstrated her design, weaving her hands in and out of of the string loop.
“Let me try,” said Aunt Paola.
She moved her hands back and forth. When she pulled the last knot through the loop, she came out with a one-legged man.
“How did you do that?”
Lina showed her Aunt how to weave the design, but when Aunt Paola tried, she still came out with the same one-legged man.
“Let me try again.”
Aunt Paola weaved her hands again. This time, Lina stopped her Aunt at the place where she made her mistake. Aunt Paola attempted the stretching man again. Again, she weaved the string incorrectly, ending up with another one-legged man. She laughed at her mistake and then undid the design.
“I haven’t done this in such a long time. Let me show you a design I used to make when I was a girl.”
Aunt Paola made a figure-eight with the string, then wove it into her fingers. She bent down and grabbed a loose end and flipped it through the loop. She reached down and grabbed the loose end with her teeth and pulled.
“Ta-da!” she said with a muffled voice. Lina clapped wildly.
“What is it?” asked Lina.
“It’s a spider,” replied Aunt Paola.
“But it has a triangle-shaped head.”
“That’s because it’s a trnagle-headed spider,” said Aunt Paola with a grin.
“There’s no such thing, Auntie!”
“I am working with a string loop. I can’t make a perfect copy.”
“I guess you’re right,” replied Lina, “Do you know anything else?”
“The only other design I know is a triangle-head dog. Is that okay?”
“Of course it is,” chuckled Lina.
Aunt Paola quickly wrapped her fingers in the loop and made her design. Aunt Paola finished her dog and displayed it proudly. As she finished, Uncle Jorge entered the living room.
“What are you two up to?” he asked.
“Making string loop designs. do you know any?”
“I sure do!” said Uncle Jorge. He took the string and moved his arms wildly until he came up with a tangled mess of string. He proudly displayed it for Aunt Paola and Lina.
“What is it?” asked Lina.
“What does it look like?” asked Uncle Jorge.
“I’m not sure.”
“Me, neither, but if I was to call it something, it would be a rat’s nest.”
Lina nodded her head while Aunt Paola sighed, “Jorge, you really are a piece of work, my dear.”
“I try,” said Uncle Jorge as he handed the knotted loop to Lina. She immediately went to work, untangling her Uncle’s mess. Uncle Jorge took a shower. Aunt Paola slipped int her sandals. She lifted the kettle lid and stuck a fork into the potatoes and the stuffed peppers.
“They’re done. Go wake Teresa.”
:Lina fetched Teresa and got ready for dinner. When the girls returned to the dining room table, Uncle Jorge was in his chair, waiting for everyone to join him.
The girls chose seats on either side of their Uncle while Aunt Paola sat at the other end of the table. Teresa led everyone in a prayer before they started their dinner.
“What are we doing tonight?” asked Teresa.
“Resting,” answered Uncle Jorge.
Teresa frowned. “Resting? I’ve been resting all day.”
“I’ve been working all day. It will be another long day tomorrow, so you might as well get all the rest you can.”
“But I’m not tired,” replied Teresa.
“There’s really nothing left to do,” replied Uncle Jorge.
“Just relax, you’ve had a long day,” added Aunt Paola.
Teresa and Carolina sat in the living room, playing checkers until late in the night. Finally, Carolina decided it was time for bed. Teresa had no choice but to join her, giving up on the night.
They went to their separate rooms and laid down. For both girls, the solitude of have their own room was lonely, but it also provided just the right mood. Both girls were sound asleep within minutes.

Beyond El Misti

For Carolina, this was just another trip to Uncle Jorge’s Alpaca Ranch. For Teresa, this day would be a day of firsts that begun as soon as the sun rose over Arequipa.
“Wake up girls, so you don’t miss your plane,” said Carolina’s mother.
“What time is it?” asked Carolina.
“It’s time to get out of bed. That’s what time it is.”
Teresa hopped out of bed and rechecked her luggage before heading off to the bathroom. Carolina grabbed her wristwatch from the nightstand. It was just past 7 o’clock in the morning. The plane didn’t leave until noon. Carolina grabbed the blankets and pulled them over her head.
“Venga! Venga!” said her mother.
“I’ll get up when Teresa gets out of the shower,” replied Carolina.
“She’s been out of the shower for twenty minutes. We’re waiting for you so we can eat breakfast.”
Carolina stretched her arm from beneath her cover and snagged her wristwatch. She pulled it beneath the covers and checked the time. Now it was 9 o’clock.
“Ay! Que la dia!” Carolina quickly went from her bed to the bathroom. She showered, changed and joined everyone for breakfast.
“How many eggs would you like?” asked Aunt Beatriz.
“One, please.”
“Just one? It’s going to be a long day.”
“Okay, two.”
As Carolina ate breakfast, Teresa retrieved her luggage from the bedroom and loaded it into the truck. After a few minutes of waiting, Teresa went to the bedroom again. She retrieved Carolina’s luggage and placed it in the back of the pickup.
Still, Carolina did not rush. Two hours remained until the plane left for Cusco. Carolina ate her eggs and drank her papaya juice.
“Let’s go,” said Teresa anxiously.
“We have plenty of time,” answered Carolina.
“Dear, it’s better to be early than late. Put away your dishes and let’s go to the airport.”
“Okay,” sighed Carolina.
She joined Teresa in the front seat while her father sat in the driver’s seat. The rest of her family gathered around, wishing the girls a safe trip and kissing them good-bye.
As Jose Vasquez drove the pickup truck to the airport, Teresa fidgeted with the radio, changing it from one station to another and then back again.
“Would you pick a station?” asked Carolina.
“There’s no music on the radio.”
“Honey, it’s Sunday morning. There’s not going to be.”
“There has to be somewhere,” she insisted.
Teresa moved the tuner back and forth between both ends of the dial. She passed the same choir singing gospel three times. Carolina reached over and turned off the radio.
“There’s nothing on,” she said. Carolina held her breath as she looked down the road. Teresa looked up at her, saying nothing. Carolina did not want this to be a long trip.
The blue pickup truck turned onto the offramp and drove up to the departure gate. Without saying a word, Carolina got out of the pickup truck and unloaded her luggage from the back. She carried it past her cousin and towards the sliding doors.
“Carolina, aren’t you going to say Goodbye?”
Carolina’s father looked as if he wanted to scold her for being so rude to her cousin. Carolina quickly fixed her attitude.
“Of course I’ll say goodbye.” She returned to her father. He hugged and kissed her. Carolina helped Teresa with her luggage as they walked into the airport.
Carolina dug into her backpack as she reached the line at the ticket counter. “Here’s your boarding pass and here’s a Guava fruit.”
“What do I do with the Guava?” asked Teresa.
“Put it in your backpack until you’re hungry.”
“Of course!” giggled Teresa, “I’m so busy thinking about flying that I can’t think straight.”
“It’s okay. Just do what I do.”
Carolina and Teresa waited in line at the ticket counter, then Carolina led Teresa to the security check-point. They got into line and waited again. The line at the check-point moved slowly. After awhile, she sat on her backpack. The line moved a few feet forward and Teresa scooted her backpack along the tile. She did this until they reached the carpeting in front of the check-point.
“Take off your watch and your pendant,” said Carolina.
“My lucky frog?”
“Your lucky frog is made of metal. If you go through those gates, you’ll set off the alarm.”
Teresa did not want to set off the alarm. She took off her pendant and put it in the plastic tub with her watch and several pieces of jewelry from Carolina.
Carolina dumped her backpack on the conveyor belt. Teresa did the same with her backpack. They walked through the check-point without further problem, collecting the items in the plastic tub as they reached the other side.
Teresa followed Carolina to a row of seats and sat down beside her.
“Now what?” asked Teresa.
“Now we wait.”
Teresa frowned. All they had done since they arrived at the airport was wait. Teresa didn’t want to wait anymore. She looked at her watch. It said 11:14 am.
“Go to the restroom. That’ll waste some time.” Carolina pointed out the restrooms at the far end of the terminal. Teresa got up and walked towards the restrooms.
Along the way, there were newsstands, restaurants, and other waiting areas. A clothes rack holding sweatshirts saying “Arequipa” on the front stood at the entrance of one store. Teresa looked at them for a moment then went inside. She went to the candy rack and bought a pack of bubble gum. After she paid for the gum, she unwrapped a piece and put it in her mouth. After a few chews, she swallowed it whole. She immediately unwrapped another piece, chewed it a few times, and swallowed it, too.
She looked around the store until Carolina came up beside her.
“Come on, it’s time to go.”
Teresa looked at her watch. Finally, time had come. She followed Carolina to the ticketing gate and waited in her final line, ready to board the plane.
Carolina led the way into the tunnel and onto the plane. She waited as other passengers loaded their baggage. Carolina found her row and got into her seat.
“Can I have the window seat?” asked Teresa.
“Oh, sure.” Teresa settled into her seat and Carolina settled into hers. They waited again, as the remaining passengers found their seats. A flight attendant walked up and down the aisle, instructing people to fasten their seat belts.
“Nervous?” Carolina asked Teresa.
“A little.”
Finally, the jet engines whirred to life and the plane backed out onto the tarmac. It waited in line for other planes to take off. The plane turned onto the runway. The sound of the engines grew louder and away they went. Before Teresa realized it, the plane left the ground.
“We’re up!”
“I know.”
“That was easy.”
“Usually it’s the landing that’s the scary part.”
“Oh.”
“It’s not that bad,” reassured Carolina.
There was another whirring sound. Wing flaps pivoted up. White streams of wind flowed over the flaps as the plane lifted higher and higher. Teresa watched the wing until the jet stream disappeared and the wing flaps titled back into position.
The jet bumped slightly as it flew through the turbulent air. Teresa grabbed Carolina’s hand and held it until the turbulence vanished.
Buildings faded away as the plane climbed through the sky. Only the Andes Mountains stood in the way. Brown ridges topped with snowcaps passed below. From Teresa’s window, the mountains looked small.
It reminded her of ridges on the world globes in her classroom. Often, she ran her hands over those mountains, carefully tracing each peak.
Teresa put her hand to the window, tracing the mountain shapes.
“What are you doing?” said Carolina.
“Touching the tops of the mountains.”
Carolina shot her cousin a look, “No you’re not. You’re touching the window.”
“I’m touching them in my mind.”
“That’s silly.”
“My imagination knows no bounds,” she replied.
“I guess not,” said Carolina as she settled back into her seat and continued reading the directions on a blue bag she pulled from the seat pocket in front of her.
Unfortunately, El Misti passed by the windows on the other side of the plane. Teresa twisted her neck and looked along her row, watching the giant mountain pass by.
Clouds wrapped gently around the jet as it rose through them. Teresa wondered what they felt like. She guessed they felt like cold air, and that was all. She imagined more, but she knew if there was more, the plane couldn’t cut through them effortlessly, like her hand gliding in the wind outside the pickup truck window.
Above the clouds, everything was calm. No birds, no planes, no mountains. Only the clouds below and the sun above. Now they passed over the cottony clouds, crusing smoothly to Cusco.
Teresa looked around then sat back in her seat, closed her eyes, and took a short nap.
Seamlessly, Teresa passed from one place in time to another. When she awoke, the plane had descended below the clouds. Unlike the brown terrain of Arequipa, small rivers cut through lush green canyons leading into Cusco. Deep inside the canyon, a small brown patch of village dotted the landscape.
“Is that Cusco?”
“It sure is.”
“It’s so small,” said Teresa.
“Cusco is only about one-third the size of home.”
Teresa continued looking out her window as the plane floated into the canyon. The wings slid backwards, revealing large rectangular slots in the wing. Teresa glanced over at Carolina, then looked back at the wing. Since Carolina didn’t say anything, Teresa figured this was normal.
The pilot steered the plane into the canyon. The plane tilted slowly to the left, banking toward the runway. As the plane tilted, Teresa lost sight of the ground.
After a few moments, the plane leveled off and the ground came back into view. Teresa spotted individual buildings as they neared the runway. The control tower was just outside her window, too.
Teresa sat upright in her seat, grasping both armrests tightly. The wheels bounced gently on the runway, then touched down. Airbrakes shuddered noisily as the plane slowed down. Luggage in the bins above Teresa’s head rattled against the plastic shelves. Soon, the plane slowed and Teresa could hear people clicking off their seatbelts. She had just successfully completed her first plane trip.
“You ready?” asked Carolina.
Teresa nodded.
They waited for the plane to reach the gate, then they too unbuckled their lap belts. Carolina and Teresa put on their backpacks and exited the plane.
The airport terminal at Cusco was smaller, too. A single hallway of passengers, leaving as they were arriving. Teresa figured some of the people were headed to Arequipa. She thought it would be easier if they could just snap their fingers and switch places.
“Stay close and follow me,” said Carolina.
“Where are we going?”
“We’re going to pick up our luggage.”
Carolna rode the escalator downstairs to the baggage claim. They waited until they saw their luggage, then removed it from the conveyor belt. Just then, a woman in a blue dress approached the girls.
“Hey girls!”
“Hey Aunt Paola. Where’s Uncle Jorge?”
“He’s busy repairing a hole in the roof of the barn. It rained last night and some of the Alpaca got wet.”
“Will we be fixing the barn, too?” asked Teresa.
“Heavens no! He’s up on the roof replacing shingles. I want you to stay as close to the ground as possible.”
They walked out to the parking lot to Aunt Paola’s compact car. “There’s not much room in the trunk, so one of you will have to share the back seat with the luggage.”
Teresa decided to squeeze into the back, letting Carolina stretch her long legs in the front seat. Teresa’s head twisted this way and that, taking int the sites.
“See that?” said Aunt Paola, “That’s Santa Teresa,”
“Really?”
“Yes, and there’s the Plaza de Armas.”
“That can’t be. The Plaza de Armas is in Arequipa.”
“Mmm-hmm, and we have one, too. There are many all through South America, dear,” and before Teresa could say a word, Paola continued on, “Over there is the Iglesia de la Compania and that fountain
Although Cusco had a Plaza de Armas, Teresa still could tell it apart from the one in Arequipa. This one was smaller. Also, there was something else.
“None of the buildings here are white.”
“That’s because our stones are from the earth and yours are from the volcanoes.”
“Do you think any other city has white buildings?”
“Maybe,” replied Aunt Paola, “but I can’t think of any.”
They turned up a street and drove up the slope of the mountain. After a short distance, Aunt Paola turned into the driveway at the end of the road.
“Here we are,” announced Aunt Paola.
Teresa looked down the road as she got out of the car. It sat further up the mountain than any of the other houses. Sure enough, Uncle Jorge was out fixing the roof of the barn. Alpaca grazed on the slope behind the house.
“Yoo-hoo! Uncle Jorge, we’re here!” Carolina called out. Uncle Jorge stopped pounding his hammer on the roof just long enough to wave back to Carolina, then continued his work.
They unloaded the luggage and went inside. Two empty bedrooms were set up for each of the girls. Carolina chose the big bedroom, leaving the small one for Teresa.
“Is anyone ready for dinner?” asked Aunt Paola
“I’m really tired. Could we rest a little bit first?” replied Teresa.
“Just let me know when you’re ready.”
Carolina unpacked her clothes and got her room ready. She figured there was always time to rest later. Teresa wanted to see the Alpaca, but she was tired from the trip. She laid in her new bed and looked around the room. After a few moments, she closed her eyes for a short nap. Although it was a strange place, it was comfortable enough to call her summer home.

Fisherman's Helper

A month passed since Carolina and Teresa rode to Arequipa. Carolina spent most of that time preparing for her trip, while Teresa spent it wishing and praying to her golden frog.
Unfortunately, it looked as if the frog was not magic at all. Teresa also thought maybe her wish was too big. If she wished a smaller wish, maybe it would come true.
Since it was Saturday, the Brothers’ Vasquez were getting ready for their fishing trip. Jose Vasquez loaded the pickup truck with minnow buckets and fishing roods while Uncle Arturo organized his tackle box. Aunt Beatriz stepped out onto the porch and watched the men.
“I made you some pancakes,” she said.
The men went inside and ate breakfast. Meanwhile, Aunt Beatriz discussed summer plans for Carolina and for Teresa.
“For the last month, the only thing Teresa talks about is the Alpaca farm. Do you think we could get a ticket for her?”
“Beatriz, you know we don’t have that kind of money for a trip,” replied Uncle Arturo.
“I could help pay for it,” said Mr. Vasquez.
“I wouldn’t think of it,” said Uncle Artor.
“Just think about it,” said Jose.
“It’s too late. There’s no thinking left to be done.”
At least take Teresa fishing,” said Aunt Beatriz.
“Today?”
“You’ve been promising to take her. Tdday would be a perfect day to invite her along.”
“Okay, but…”
“Just take her. It will help take her mind off Cusco.”
Uncle Arturo nodded and Aunt Beatriz went to the girl’s bedroom and woke Teresa. Meanwhile, the men finished getting ready, packing for three instead of two.
With her mom’s help, Teresa woke up, showered and got dressed. In only moments, she came into the kitchen, where her father and Uncle Jose were eating.
“That was quick,” said Uncle Arturo.
“I know why you’re doing this,” said Teresa.
“Doing what?”
“Taking me fishing.”
“We said we’d take you along eventually.”
“It’s okay. I figure if I can’t go over the mountain, I’ll go out to the ocean instead.”
Teresa piled pancakes and fried potatoes on her plate and quickly ate them.
Today was Teresa’s lucky day. Her father and her uncle would spoil her like never before. She would have all their attention, and she planned to make the most of the day.
“Let’s get going,” urged Jose Vasquez, “It’s a long drive to the shore.”
Teresa sat between Uncle Jose and her father as they drove through the misty morning dew. Although the dirt road was rocky, Teresa found herself asleep again.
Back at the house, Like Teresa, Carolina was also fast asleep. The girls had stayed up most of the night. They prepared for Carolina’s trip by packing and unpacking, then re-packing everything again. It wasn’t until Pilar Vasquez came into the girl’s room and forced the girls to sleep that they finally did.
Pilar poured a steaming mug of cocoa, and then topped it with whipped cream. She stepped out to the porch and sat in her rocking chair. A small sip helped warm her body. Slowly, the day unfurled as the sun rose over El Misti and the other Andes Mountains.
Forest creatures of all shapes and sizes came to life. Colorful parrots buzzed from tree-to-tree. Monkeys and lemurs roosted in the treetops, too. Their barks filled the air around the Vasquez house. Soon, Aunt Paola and Carolina woke up, ate pancake leftovers, and then began their day.
Meanwhile, the Vasquez brothers arrived at the shore as Teresa came along for the ride. Jose and Arturo slipped out of the seat and moved the fishing gear from truck to boat. At the last moment before they set sail, Arturo returned to the truck.
“Come on, it’s time to get up.”
“Just give me a few more minutes,” grumbled Teresa.
“I can’t. We’re leaving.” He nudged her again. When she did not get up, he picked her up and carried her to the fishing boat and set her in the back. He covered her in a blanket. She smiled as the ocean breeze cooled her face, then fell back to sleep.
It was almost noon when she awakened. She rose and looked around. The shore was a thin strip of land along one horizon. A flat deserted ocean lie along the other side.
“How far are we from the shore?” she asked.
“Not far, a kilometer maybe, maybe more,” replied her father.
He was sharing a glass of Pisco with Uncle Jose.
“Is there anything to eat? I’m starved.”
“I packed some Guava and Papaya.” Uncle Jose pointed to the ice chest in the front of the boat. As Teresa stood up, the boat rocked gently in the water. She reached down and grabbed the rail. Carefully, she walked towards the front of the boat and sat down beside the ice chest. She grabbed a fresh Papaya and turned it in her hands. The tender orange skin bruised slightly. She returned to the back of the boat and handed the Papaya and handed it to her father.
“Can you cut it for me?”
Arturo reached into his pocket and pulled out a small jack-knife. He cut the fruit through the center and then twisted the two halves apart. Teresa smiled as she saw the bright red flesh of the Papaya.
“Here you go.”
“Can you get the seeds out, too?”
Her father dug his thumb under the bright red seeds in the center of the fruit. He flicked his thumb over the side of the boat, dumping the seeds into the water. Several fish came to the surface, fighting over the seeds.
“They’re eating the seeds?” asked Teresa.
“Why not?”
“What if a Papaya tree grows in their bellies?”
Her father laughed. “Then the fisherman who catches them will have quite a surprise, won’t he?”
“Can we fish now?”
“We’ve been fishing all morning.”
“But I was sleeping.”
“Alright, but this isn’t a good spot to catch fish.”
“Why not?” asked Teresa.
“No birds,” replied her father.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“See those seagulls flying near the shore?”
“Yes.”
“That’s where the fish are.”
Arturo Vasquez stood up and prepared the boat while Uncle Jose jerked on the starter cord. The engine rumbled to life and quickly, they were headed to shore.
Teresa did not understand her father. He dropped Papaya seeds in the water. Several fish came up and ate the seeds, and there wasn’t a single bird flying overhead.
The boat cut through the choppy ocean waters as Uncle Jose steered it toward a flock of seagulls flying over the water.
As the fishing boat arrived beneath the seagulls, Arturo dropped an anchor over the side of the boat and prepared a fishing rod.
“Here, take this,” her father handed her the fishing rod and prepared another. Uncle Jose did the same.
Teresa looked up at the seagulls. Their large white wings shifted back and forth as they rode the wind. Their necks craned downward. Occasionally, a seagull would twist into the wind and splash into the water. When the seagull surfaced, a large white fish usually sat in his beak.
“Now I see what you’re talking about,” she said.
“Cast out your line,” said Uncle Jose.
“What?”
“Have you ever fished before?”
“Not really.”
Uncle Jose stood behind Teresa and grabbed the fishing pole, his hands gently covering hers. He moved the fishing rod over the water and pushed the button on the reel.
“What does that button do?”
“When you press it, you’re getting ready to cast the line.”
“Oh.”
Uncle Jose swung his arms back and forth, releasing the button as he ended the swing. The reel whirred, the bait and hook flew into the air and plopped into the ocean a good distance from the boat.
“Pretend to be the worm on the hook, moving through the water. Fast enough to fool the fish, slow enough to let them catch the worm. They catch the worm and the worm catches the fish.”
Teresa smiled. Before Uncle Jose even had time to bait his line and cast it out, there was a tug on Teresa’s fishing line.
“Reel it in! Reel it in!” shouted her father.
As she reeled in the line, a large fish appeared at the end of the line. Teresa reeled a bit more, dragging the fish out of the water. Just before the fish came up into the boat, Uncle Jose grabbed the fishing line in one hand and the fish in the other. He gently unhooked the fish and dropped it into a holding tank.
“See how easy that was?”
“I guess the birds are right,” said Teresa.
The fish were certainly biting. Throughout the afternoon, one fish after another found their way onto Teresa’s hook. Before day’s end, the holding tank was full. Uncle Jose started the fishing boat’s motor and returned to the shore.
“I’m so hungry,” said Teresa.
“We can get something before we return home,” said Uncle Jose.
“I wonder what my cousin is doing right now.”
Arturo frowned at Jose, then looked to his daughter. He knew that, eventually, Carolina would get to go to Cusco while Teresa stayed behind.
The boat sidled up to the dock, where Jose hopped out and tied it to a mooring post. They loaded the fishing gear into the back of the truck, then hauled the holding tank to the back of the truck as well.
“Let’s grab something to eat,” said Uncle Jose. Both men could see Teresa’s mind wandering as they walked up the dock.
“Papa?”
“Yes, Teresa?”
“Do you think I could work with you this Summer?”
Arturo Vasquez took Teresa by the shoulders and pointed her toward the shipyard.
“Do you know what your Uncle and I do?”
“You work over there in the shipyard.”
“Let’s go for a walk.”
Arturo Vasquez led his daughter along the shore. As they neared the shipyard, the sound of hammers pounding steel grew louder. Some men stood on scaffolding, welding seams in the metal, while others painted the ships with gray primer.
“This is what we do. We work on ships all day long and when we’re done, it takes all our strength to come back the very next day to do it all over again.”
He held out his hands. They were covered in cuts and blisters.
“That’s what our work is like.”
Teresa remained silent as they walked across the dock, watching the ship builders. The noise was loud enough to change Teresa’s mind about a summer job at the shipyard; the blisters on her father’s hands only confirmed her decision.
They continued to the end of the dock to a small diner. They went inside at sat at the counter.
“Hey Margie,” said Teresa’s father.
“Hey Arturo, what will you have?”
“Do you have any Chupe de Camarones?”
“We just made a fresh kettle.”
“Can you give us three bowls?”
“Coming right away.”
Margie served up three bowls of soup. Steam rose from the light yellow broth. Teresa grabbed her spoon and dipped it into the soup. Chunks of shrimp and potato floated to the surface. She took a bite. The hot broth burned the roof of her mouth.
“How do you like it?” asked her father.
Teresa took a gulp of ice water and fanned her mouth with her hand. She nodded her head. Her father poured a tiny amount of ice water in her bowl and stirred the soup. Teresa tried it again, then gave a thumbs up, as if to say it was delicious.
Teresa continued eating her soup and was finished first. She turned around in her seat and watched the workers in the shipyard. She grabbed her frog pendant and thought hard about all of her wishes and the upcoming summertime. Arturo Vasquez finished his soup next, watching his little girl.
“I’ll be right back. I have to make a stop in the restroom before we go.”
Teresa pulled her legs up toward her chest and folded her arms around her knees. As she leaned her chin on her knees, she started to daydream about the seagulls.
“You can still go on fishing trips with your father and me,” said Uncle Jose.
“I know,” she sighed. Uncle Jose rubbed her shoulders then got ready to leave as Arturo Vasquez returned from the restroom. A sly smile crept from the corner of his mouth.
“Let’s go home,” he said.
They walked back to the blue pickup truck, parked on the far side of the dock. Teresa looked at the boats in the shipyard and wondered why she couldn’t work on boats during summer break. Maybe there was another way to get her smaller wish.
Just before the sun set on Arequipa, the blue pickup truck arrived safely at home. Teresa helped unload fishing gear from the truck, stacking it next to the front door. Teresa grabbed a stringer of fish from the ice chest and went toward the house.
As she opened the front door, the smell of baked fruit and vegetables came from inside.
“How was fishing?” Aunt Pilar called from the kitchen.
“Easy,” said Teresa.
“How can that be so? You were gone all day.”
“With the aid of a fisherman’s helper.”
“With what?” asked Aunt Pilar.
“A fisherman’s helper.” Teresa lifted her stringer and showed it proudly to her Aunt. A half-dozen striped marlins and black groupers hung from its hooks.
“You are quite the fisherman’s helper,”
“Not me, Aunt Pilar. I’m talking about the seagulls that led us to the fish.”
“I didn’t think of those helpers,” replied Aunt Pilar.
“They made it easy,” said Teresa.
Teresa placed her stringer in the sink, just like her father had always done after a fishing trip.
“Wash your hands. I’ll clean these fish,” said her father. He rolled up his sleeves and grabbed his filet knife. He dragged the knife under the skin, quickly cutting away the skin and bones. Aunt Pilar washed the fish filets and sprinkled them with corn flour. She placed them in a plate, ready for the oven.
Carolina came out from her bedroom to see what all the chatter was about. The plate of fish was more than she had seen in quite some while.
“I guess we’re having fish tonight,” she said.
“And the day after that and the day after that…” said Teresa.
“Not all of us,” said Carolina.
“Carolina! Be quiet,” scolded Aunt Pilar.
“I’m so sorry,” exclaimed Carolina. She was so excited about her trip she had forgotten about Teresa’s feelings.
“Don’t worry, I plan to work at the shipyard every day.”
“Teresa, you know you can’t do that. It’s too dangerous,” said Uncle Jose.
Teresa’s confident smile fell from her face. She ran into the bedroom and flopped onto her bed. She buried her face in her arm and began sobbing. Just then, her father came into the girl’s bedroom and sat on the bed beside her.
“Teresa?”
She grabbed her pillow and pulled it over her head. She couldn’t bear the thought of a long summer trapped inside the house.
“Teresa, listen to me for a second.”
Arturo Vasquez gently pulled his daughter around to face him and wiped the tears from her eyes with his thumb.
“What daddy?” Teresa’s eyes were puffy and red.
“Do you remember when I went to the restroom at the diner?”
Teresa nodded her head.
“When I went back there, I made a call to your Uncle Jorge in Cusco.”
“You did?”
“I did. I told him that you wanted to work on the Alpaca Ranch with Carolina this summer and I asked if he could help us get you a ticket.”
“And?”
“And I want you to pack your bags because you’re going to Cusco for the summer.”
“I am?”
“You are.”
Teresa’s face sparkled as she realized what her father said. She ran out to the kitchen and gave Carolina a bear hug.
“We’re going to Cusco! We’re going to Cusco!” she shouted.
Arturo Vasquez followed his daughter into the kitchen and retold the story of the phone call to Uncle Jorge. As soon as he finished, the girls went into their room and began packing again.
After the fish came out of the oven, everyone returned to the table for dinner.
“Would you rather work at the shipyard instead?” asked Uncle Jose.
“Absolutely not!” exclaimed Teresa. She quickly finished her dinner and returned to the bedroom. Carolina went with her, helping her finish her packing. Arturo Vasquez sat down at the card table and lit his smoking pipe. The rest of the adults joined him.
“That was quite some trick,” said Aunt Beatriz.
“I just called Jorge.”
“Still, I’m proud of you,” she said
“It was quite a surprise to me, too,” said Jose.
“I wasn’t going to say anything until after dinner. When Teresa started crying, I knew I couldn’t keep it secret any longer.”
The adults stayed int eh family room until the earliest hours of morning. After packing, the girls jumped into bed, but remained awake, anxious for what tomorrow might bring.

La Ciudad Blanca

Jose Vasquez stood on the corner and stamped his walking stick on the sidewalk.
"Here it is," he said.
He pulled off his fishing cap to expose his bald forehead. Beads of sweat dripped over his eyebrows. He drew his arm across his forehead as he looked towards the sun.
“Here’s what?” asked Carolina.
"Ancient Incas walked and walked across the mountains of Peru until they found this city. They stopped and said, 'Yes, Here it is."
"Is that true, Papa?"
"Not really,” he answered.
“Then why did you tell me that?”
“I mean…some people say they said ‘Here, stay,’ while others think it means “Relax here.’ Still, others say that Arequipa means ‘Yes, here.’
“What do you think it means?” asked Teresa.
“In a way it means all of those things, Come with me, I want to show you something.”
Carolina and Teresa each grabbed one of Mr. Vasquez’s hands before crossing the street. They continued down the sidewalk and under an arched doorway, entering into a square.
“Where are we going?”
As they walked through the intersection, Carolina looked up as her father had. The white buildings glimmered in the bright mid-day sun.
“Aren’t all these buildings beautiful?”
“I think it’s boring in a way. Why are they all white?” asked Teresa.
“They’re white because the buildings are made from white volcanic rock,” answered Mr. Vasquez.
“That’s impossible. Volcano rocks are gray and black, not white,” argued Teresa.
“The volcanic rocks used in these buildings are white. They’re called sillar.”
“It’s romantic,” said Carolina, “Everywhere you look, these beautiful buildings reflect the sunlight.”
“I just think it’s very plain is all,” sighed Teresa.
“I think it’s romantic, don’t you, Papa?”
“In a way, yes. I know of no other city in the world where the buildings shimmer like this.”
As they continued down the sidewalk, an archway opened in the wall beside them. Mr. Vasquez led the girls through the archway to. a small square on the other side.
“Where are we going?” asked Teresa. Mr. Vasquez said nothing, but continued walking towards a row of buildings on the other side of the town square. He went up to a door and opened it, and then he went inside the building.
Just inside the door sat a row of office desks with a person behind each one.
“Welcome to One World Travel, I’m Marta. What can I do for you today?”
“I need to buy a plane ticket to Cusco.”
“Come with me,” said Marta. Mr. Vasquez and the girls followed Marta to one of the desks and sat down. Marta sat behind her computer and smiled.
“What’s this for?” asked Teresa.
“Not what, but who,” said Mr. Vasquez.
“Who? Who?” asked Teresa.
“It’s for Carolina. Uncle Jorge wanted her to work with him for the summer and he sent us the money for a ticket.”
“I’m going to the Alpaca Ranch again this Summer?”
“Yes, you are.”
“I can’t wait to see Cousin Miguel and Uncle Jorge,” said Carolina.
“Can I go, too?” asked Teresa.
“Uncle Jorge only sent money for one ticket.”
“Awww.”
“Maybe some other time,” said Mr. Vasquez.
“It’s not that big of a deal,” said Carolina.
“Maybe not to you,” groaned Teresa as she slumped in her seat.
Carolina watched Teresa as they waited for Marta to finish the reservation. Every summer, Uncle Jorge sent money and every Summer, Carolina helped out at the Alpaca Ranch. A trip to Cusco didn’t seem like much to Carolina at all until she noticed Teresa’s disappointment. Suddenly, Carolina felt lucky to be the family adventurer.
“Here you go Carolina. One roundtrip ticket from Arequipa to Cusco,” said Marta.
“Can I see it?” asked Teresa.
“Be careful, it’s the only one we get,” said Mr. Vasquez.
Teresa opened the pouch and looked at the ticket inside. As they left the travel agency, she studied the ticket for a moment, then carefully tucked it into the envelope and sealed it shut.
“Where are we going now?” asked Carolina.
“Are you hungry?”
“A little,” she replied.
“I’m starving,” replied Teresa.
“Since you’re starving, I’ll give you the option. What do you want for lunch?”
“Tacquitos?”
“Then tacquitoes it is,” replied Mr. Vasquez. They walked across the square to a tiny restaurant. Mr. Vasquez ordered a plate of tacquitoes and a giant-sized lemonade. He then led the girls through the archway and into to the street.
“Where are we going now?” asked Teresa.
“I was thinking about what you said earlier,” said Mr. Vasquez.
“What did I say?” asked Teresa.
“About the plain white buildings.”
“Oh, that. Look around, all you see is white this and white that.”
They continued walking until they reached an intersection.
“How about this? asked Mr. Vasquez. A cathedral spire rose in front of them. Dark red spires rose from the center of the white church beneath them.
Plaza de Armas sat in front of the church. Large steel statues and a fountain sat in the middle of the plaza. Rising above it all were a half-dozen giant Palm trees. Their leafy heads waved in the wind.
“That’s what I’m talking about,” said Teresa.
Teresa’s head spun about as she tried taking it all in. The plaza was walled on all four sides with tall white buildings. Along one side, archways stacked one upon another, reaching several stories high. Along the opposite side, another building faced the Plaza. The Cathedral stood next to them and across the way, another plain white building. It’s magnificent white gargoyles brought a beaming smile to her face.
Now Carolina led the way into the Plaza. Benches sat in random places throughout the Plaza. Some were full and some were empty. Carolina chose one, then chose another that faced the Cathedral.
The threesome sat in front of the Cathedral, eating their tacquitos while they shared a lemonade.
In front of the Cathedral stood a flagpole, its Peruvian flag waving gently in the wind. Like the monastery, the flag was red and white. Teresa glanced over at Carolina’s ponytail.
“The red and white stripes in that flag remind me of the elastic band holding your ponytail.”
“Maybe that’s why it’s my favorite,” said Carolina.
Teresa smiled. “Maybe.”
“Unlike the white stones used to make many of the buildings, many of the bricks and paving stones are red.”
“Are the red stones made from lava?” asked Teresa.
“Lava is just hot volcanic stone that comes from deep inside the earth. Paving stones are made from clay, not stone.”
“I don’t understand why they use volcanic rocks instead of red clay. The clay is much prettier.”
“Three volcanoes watch over Peru: Chicani, Pichu Pichu, and El Misti. These great volcanic mountains produce enough Sillar to build every place we go, whether it’s a house, a store, or even a monastery like Santa Catalina.”
“But the walls inside the monastery are painted blue,” said Teresa.
“The blue paint accents the white stone, just like the red bricks accent the white of the Cathedral,” said Mr. Vasquez.
They sat in the Plaza for most of the afternoon as Condors flew overhead and hummingbirds whirred from flower to flower. Carolina looked at the stones in the buildings, then thought about the Volcanoes. She looked over her left shoulder. She could see El Misti, poking its volcanic head over the top of the white buildings of Arequipa. Just then, she reached up and grabbed her frog pendant and made a wish – a wish to go beyond El Misti.
“What are you thinking about?” asked Mr. Vasquez.
“Nothing,” she replied.
Mr. Vasquez nodded. He knew what his niece was thinking about. He knew it was time to give Uncle Jorge a phone call.
“Don’t think about nothing too long or you’re going to flatten your frog like a pancake.”
Carolina smiled and let go of the pendant. As the sun set on Arequipa, she got up and led the way back to her Uncle's truck. Carolina watched the pyramid shape of El Misti in the rearview mirror, hoping the golden frog would grant her wish - to travel beyond El Misti.