Day 28- Cuzco

Today we started our second week of classes in Cuzco and our last week of classes in Peru. A new week also means new professors: Nuri taught our grammar class and Patti taught history/culture. It was hands down the most successful day of classes I’ve had thus far. Our grammar section last week was primarily for conversation with some technical review through our textbook and other exercises.

In the second section, we spent the whole two hours just talking. Because I’ve learned all of the grammar at some point or another in my Spanish studies, it’s good to have a review, but the best way for me to learn is by speaking. In the two hours, I practiced the language more than any other point in school here and learned vocabulary and some grammatical corrections along the way. The teachers this week just get it; they know our language level and want to implement the most effective learning techniques. I walked out of class so excited; I’m finally practicing my Spanish as much as I’d like.
Kris and I took a cab home for lunch then rested until we had to meet at the Museo Historico Regional (Casa Garcilaso) at 3pm. It contained historical documents, ceramics, agricultural tools, textiles, colonial architecture and a small exhibition hall of contemporary art. The museum was the former home of Garcilaso de la Vega. Born in Cuzco in 1539, Garcilaso was the son of an Inca princess and a Spanish conquistador. His father died in 1560 and Garcilaso used his inheritance to move to Spain. There, he kept what many scholars consider the most complete and accurate accounts of Inca history, culture and society, including Comentarios Reales de los Incas. 

Afterwards, I wasn’t feeling too great, so I decided to walk around a bit on my own and head home later. I started heading in the direction of San Pedro when I found a juice bar right around the corner from the museum and ordered some of the best, freshest lemonade of my life. Later, at the market, I looked at souvenirs but decided to just order some more juice since Kris told me it was good and cheap there. I tried mango con leche, which was good but way too creamy for me; I left wishing I had ordered just fruit juice without milk. Oh well, onto the next stop. I was in search of a cheap dinner that I could get to go, so I could be home in time for my 6-9pm internet allowance.

I walked back in the direction of the museum and the main plaza and found a relatively cheap hamburguesa de pollo con huevo y queso (chicken “hamburger” (not sure why it’s called that) with egg and cheese)) that also had mini french fries and some condiments on top.

As I searched for a cab, a boy who appeared to be in high school came up to me and offered his help catching a cab (not that I asked for his help or even needed it). He sort of took over, and when he hauled a cab and got into the front seat to make sure the cab driver understood where to take me, I was ready to jump out if anything sketchy happened. As it turns out, he really did just want to help, so I thanked him and got back home around 6:30. All the lights were out and no one was home for a few hours. Around 9:30, Miluzka knocked on my door and came in the room, asking if I was ok. I told her I was fine and wanted to come home early to do some homework. She asked me why I wasn’t with Kris and why we didn’t have any activities that day. I told her I had gone to the museum and repeated that I needed to get some work done. She stared at me harshly for a minute, wanting to know why I wasn’t out. Eventually, she offered me some soup, concerned that I hadn’t eaten. I explained my whole process of getting food to go but took her up on the offer; she brought the soup to me while I was in bed. The whole situation was very odd. I can’t help but feel on edge about everything around my host mother. She’s always so concerned about my every move and questions my motives for things that typically need no explanation. Kris and I also feel extremely uncomfortable and bothered by the fact that she continually talks about how kind her past host students have been (she’s been hosting for 11 years, before her son was born) and how they send her money from the states. She and her husband are lawyers, send their son to a private school and live in a very nice house by Cuzco standards and in general. Still, she’s always complaining about how difficult life in Peru is and how she’s going to move to the States as soon as she gets the money. As kind as she is and as much as she wants to help and watch after us, I can’t help but feel that she’s trying to make us feel sorry for her. I wonder if she only houses people in hopes that they’ll help her move. I’m grateful for her hospitality but don’t like feeling like I’m walking on eggshells everytime I’m around her.