Category Archives: Short Story

Dancing in the Street! Peru Style

Now at least I can say I have something in common with Mick Jagger and the great David Bowie! Only a week ago I was ‘Dancing in the Street’!! Want to know how that feels? Feckin’ amazing! (;

No other words for it really! I answered the call – Casa Peru Ireland – a group of Peruanos living in Ireland, put a call out via their face book page. Flash mob! Rehearsals in June! All welcome!

Flash Mob Casa Peru in Ireland!

How could I resist? As someone who wrote continuously about my Journey in Peru over a period of 30 months on my Wild Star Landing blog, I was eager to strengthen my links with this country by taking part in this fun event.

During my time in Peru, I had observed the many festivals in the plazas and on the streets where dancing is central to the celebration. I had even given it a go myself ‘Dancing around the Coffee Tree’ and ‘Waino Dancing by the River’ but I had not properly learned the steps and sequences.

Peru Ireland Connections

So in June 2017 in Dublin city centre, I joined this festive group to partake in a sequence of dances representing the three main regions of Peru, Coast, Mountain and Jungle.

We rehearsed over a period of three weeks. I really enjoyed the gatherings and met people not just from Peru but countries such as Mexico, Bolivia, Italy and Romania.

When it came to our street performance, some were understandably nervous and certainly there was much anticipation. None of us had quite done anything like this before.

Dublin was strangely quiet that evening and rain was upon us too. Nonetheless, we followed through with the joyful action and all our steps were carried out.

Wild Star Landing – Dancing in the Street

I am proud to say I danced the Peruvian dances. My friends in my Peru can see me in the videos and I know my bonds have been strengthened even though the miles between us are many.

Take a look at our ‘Dancing in the Street ‘Peruvian flash mob style!

Have you been to Peru? What was your favourite spot?

Author of Wild Star Landing

Books by Caroline Cunningham – Go Shopping !

Writing letters all of their days – Travel Tale

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Up until then they were just two older men meeting for dinner. Then they ordered desert!

I was tempted, as one of the deserts looked particularly elaborate. I had to ask them what it was. That was the start of our conversation.

Beneath the canapé of the restaurant with candle lights dancing in table top lanterns, the waiter presented me with the delicious Hungarian delight. The gentlemen saluted me as I dipped my spoon into the chocolate dreamy folds of cake.

Budapest

Now we were in unison, enjoying treats and absorbing the magic of lapsing twilight into deeper night time sky. I settled back in my seat for a moment, observing the city passersby and raised my eyes to the roof tops of stately buildings. I had found rest after my hours of walking and deciphering of maps and streets, this moment felt like my reward.

‘Is it your first time to Budapest?’ He addressed me in English but German was his first language. His friend smiled at me. ‘Yes,’ I replied. ‘And you travel alone?’ he enquired. ‘I’m going to a wedding in a Slovakia in a few days,’ I added. They both seemed very pleased with this response and as we had now moved to coffees they saluted me again.

The Danube

Our tables were close enough for comfortable communication although, I had to pay close attention because the other gentleman spoke with a French accent and his English was not as coherent as that of his German friend.

Budapest

They enquired about my homeland of Ireland, saying that they had visited some years ago and had enjoyed the beautiful landscape. Ireland had been in the news a lot that week, as the American President had paid a stately visit. The German man being, more chatty, made a reference to our famous USA visitor. I told him my tale of how I had seen Barak Obama twice in one day, as his car drove past and he had waved at me both times!

And I couldn’t stop myself from telling the story about his ‘stately tank of a car’ getting stuck in the hollow of the Embassy gates in Dublin and how they had to get a crane to lift it out. As we erupted into laughter, so too did the diners at the next tables. They were American!

Budapest – Wild Star Landing

I decided it was time to find out more about my new friends. Their story touched my heart. Here we had two men in their seventies who had maintained a friendship since they were schoolboys. One grew up in Germany and the other in France. And how their friendship grew? They were pen-pals!

It was explained to me that this was an initiative instigated between schools after World War 2 with the intention of establishing good relations between future generations of the two countries. What a genius idea! As young boys they had shared their stories with each other, letter by letter, each building a sense of what life was like for the other. I imagined how it must have been so exciting receiving those letters and how their imaginations must have been set alight.

Budapest – Wild Star Landing

There was thoughtfulness between them as they recounted their story in turns. They both had families of their own now, all grown up and there were grandchildren too. Throughout all the other events of life they had maintained this special bond.

In later years, they decided that every year they would meet in a European city and spend a few days together, which is how I found myself sitting next to them on this very night. Such a story warranted an additional salute. We continued our conversations while enjoying a nightcap of red wine.

Budapest – Wild Star Landing

They wanted to know about my friends who were to be married and my plans for getting to Slovakia. I thanked them for sharing their story which was so inspiring.

People seldom write letters anymore. My mother writes them to her friends in sympathy when they have lost someone close. I recalled how, as back-packers in Australia in the 90’s, fellow travellers sometimes sent each other letters to say ‘I made it home’ or ‘it was lovely to meet you’, even if the meeting was just for one day. This was before things like email and mobile phones were all the rage. I still have a stash of those letters saved, promising myself I’ll read them when I’m 80 or if I ever get incapacitated.

It was time to say goodnight. We paid our bills and walked together to the train station. We embraced, kissing each other from side to side, then waved goodbye.

And that was my first night in Budapest.

Budapest – Wild Star Landing

This article is dedicated to a group of twitter pals of mine who instigated a chat around the topic of letter writing. I remembered this story and a few of our group made me promise to share it once I added the story to my blog. I hope you enjoyed the tale.

Do leave a comment to let me know if you still write letters or have some stashed away too. Or maybe you had a special trip to Budapest too?

A Final Blessing – Journey In Peru

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Waking up that morning was very different from all the others spent in this Sacred Valley story-book town. Like that first morning, my clothes for the day were arranged close to my bed, not because of the cold morning air, rather to save time for the last of everything.

Henry opened the door to the street and let me out. We spared our words for later. At seven in the morning I took my last walk around the world heritage town of Ollantaytambo. I took in the sounds of the gushing silvery water, racing through the river and the stone cut aqua-ducts. I relished the cobbled stones pressing unevenly through the soles of my shoes. I spied a large bird, possibly the condor, soaring way up high against the jagged peaks that traced the surrounding skyline.

Journey In Peru – A Final Blessing

The train station was quiet, as the early morning train had already taken its first passengers of the day to Machu Picchu, plus the tourist season was waning a little. Not many auto-taxi’s buzzing around yet and most shops had yet to open, including that of my friend Hoovert who had made me promise to call to say a last goodbye.

Ollantaytambo Peru

I had another area, to complete the tour, amidst the labyrinth of Cancha Inca buildings. A woman dressed in traditional attire, complete with the relevant hat of the area, spied me looking through the door of her courtyard. She gave me a great big smile and waved as if, she not only knew me, but sensed that I was leaving.

Cancha Inca Buildings

The Fortalezza was as stunning in the early morning as at any other time of day. The golden statue of La Ñusta (Inca Princess) urged a more positive spring to my parting steps. The Apu watched over me from Pinku Lluna as I made my way through the granite grid.

I walked on the market side of town passing my first home of Qusiqoller. The memories of those first mornings were strong. The fresh cool air, the hushed murmuring of people gathering their grasses near the entrance to the market and the men with taxi’s lining up for the days trips to Cuzco, Urubamba and other locations.

Ollantaytambo – Wild Star Landing

I stood in the middle of the Plaza De Armas square. I tried not focus on the closed doors of the Coffee Tree, where I had spent many of my days helping out and cementing friendships that would last forever. The ancient tree that was declared to be dying, looked upon its newly planted counterpart positioned close by. During my nine weeks in this town I had witnessed significant change not only in myself but for this little place also. Nothing stands still. We are always moving forward. The longer we stand still, the faster we die.

The Tree’s – Plaza De Armas

Saying GoodBye at Worlds Coffee Cafe

Apu – Pinku Lluna

One last vision to install in my memory banks. I took the avenue that gives the greatest view of this town’s most special Apu. She was glorious against the azure sky. I understood why these people, descended from Incas, held Veronica in such special reverence. There was something very inspiring and promising about that glacial mountain.

From the very beginning it had intrigued me. It held some secret of a life more extraordinary which lay in waiting of discovery. I had dared to travel beyond her stature by taking that trip to Santa Teresa. I had glimpsed a world to which I could never fully belong, because, my growing up entailed an entirely different set of memories and experience, to those who had furrowed in the midst of Veronica’s domain.

Early Morning Ollantaytambo Peru

Journey In Peru – Wild Star Landing

A lurking sorrow began to well. Just in time, I received her final blessing. ‘Yes, you do belong here’. I bowed to the glimmering mountain. Taking her message to me I echoed, ‘I do belong!’ I had been embraced by the people of this town. The final days had been the most telling. They were just as sad as I was, to be saying goodbye. I had been told over and over that I was regarded as family, not just of one family but of those whose threshold’s I had crossed. I had allowed their ways to merge slowly and gently with my own, keeping judgement and unnecessary fear in the deeper dungeons of my heart. We had helped each other at every opportunity, to learn, to grow, to understand. I thought I had lost a great big battle that I had set up for myself but here I was realising how much I had won.

Sorrow turned to gratitude, the kind that also makes you cry, so my tears did not go to waste. I was really going to miss this wonderful place, all of its people, every sight and sound. Hoovert was not yet at his shop. At least we had said goodbye the night before.

The Shop On The Corner

I returned to collect my bags. Now the pangs of departure were setting in. ‘We feel the same,’ Catty consoled me as she saw the evidence of my sadness. Henry allowed me to sob upon his shoulder for some minutes without any words save for, ‘ I feel the same.’ Catty could not let me go without the reminder that I was to return soon. Her last wish for me I cannot share because I have not found it yet but it was for something ‘good.’

Getting ready for the road to Cuzco

Paola and Liz were also taking the trip with me to Cuzco, as they were returning to their home, at that time, in Lima. I was grateful to have their company. As the mini-bus (taxi) pulled away from the area of the train station, I quickly asked Liz to request the driver to slow down and beep his horn as we passed by Hoovert’s shop. He actually stopped outside the door, I could see Hoovert sweeping the dusty floor. He saw me waving and rushed to the mini-bus. Opening the door wide, he stepped inside and gave me the greatest hug and a parting kiss. As the mini-bus pulled away I watched through the rear window. Hoowert stood in the middle of the road, with his hand held in high, in Inca-style salute, until we were out of each others’ sight.
The Plaza De Armas remained quiet at that hour and the Coffee Tree, unusually, was not yet opened for business.

Journey In Peru

The mini-bus made two rounds of the square before making for the exit route. Then it was the closing of the book, the one whose pages I had stepped cautiously between in my first days in this ‘Living Inca Museum’. Like the gaps between the cobbled stones I had fitted nicely there.

Veronica Glacier Peru

I took my memories with me, all the gentle sources of love, all the friendship and the final blessing. I made a promise, never to forget a single moment of that special time in my life which allowed for so much transformation. But, there was much weeping all the same, as I watched the Sacred Valley slowly slip away to the enormity of mountains and our descent into the throb of Cuzco city.

©Caroline Cunningham Author Of Wild Star Landing (Blog)

Three Times Finalist In Ireland Blog Awards 2015

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Water Running Past My Feet – Journey In Peru

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There is nothing eloquent about the word ‘goodbye’. People say it pretending they are likely to see you in a month or two. There was nothing certain about my return to this town or country. The only justification would be to live and work here having obtained the relevant visa.

My presence in this place may have given false impression that I was financially well off. I had simply weighed my options to decide to come here a second time. The life choices which presented as satisfactory to many others, had not presented their appeal to me. I had walked a very different path with many cross-roads and confusing signposts. I was simply getting weary of the uphill climb and the amount of dragons I had encountered along the way.

Coming to Peru presented the opportunity to slay another of those fire-breathing beasts. This dragon had two heads. I understood initially that I had lost that fight but in hindsight it was the best outcome with an unexpected treasure attached to it.

SHop On The Corner – Journey In Peru

It took some time, amidst many tears, to place my belongings into my luggage. When, eventually, I opened the door of my room, there was my friend Henry, standing with his sweeping brush. ‘Maybe’ he said. I smiled. This was his favourite English word to pronounce. This one word I used to tease him about, I will always associate with him.

Journey In Peru – Wild Star Landing

Saying GoodBye – Journey In Peru

It was time to say goodbye to the people of this town. As bravely as I could, I set off, calling into shops and homes. I will never forget it. I had gifts for each of them and they in turn gifted me something of theirs. I gave my oil pastels to little Nancy, the child I had sketched during my first week in Ollantaytambo. And I gave the ‘cocaine’ to Alex. It was, of course, only a detoxification tea. I also bought gifts for my family and friends back home.

Pacha Mama Ollantaytambo Peru

By The Urubamba River

When I returned to my lodgings to store the items in my bags, I was invited to lunch with my Casa Del Abuelo family. Henry had cooked a special meal of cow’s tongue. I tried my best not to disappoint my hosts but I could not get used to the texture of the meat. Eventually I had to admit defeat. When asked for seconds I opted instead for the sauce which was delicious. ‘What’s it made of?’ I asked. ‘Cows tongue!’ Catty replied. We all laughed at this.

Inca Bridge – Ollantaytambo Peru

Henry had the perfect plan for our last evening together. We went fishing down by the Inca bridge, four of us. On the way, Henry was curious about Irish tales he’d heard of. So as best I could, in Spanish language, I told him the story of Cū Cualainn and ‘The Salmon Of Knowledge’. He also amused me as he tried to understand the correct pronunciation of the word ‘beach’. ‘And a female dog?’ he asked next. He had me laughing. To him, both words sounded the same. ‘Bitch!’ I replied.

Fishing – Ollantaytambo Peru

We didn’t catch any fish but it was good to be by the river. It reminded me a little of my trip to Santa Teresa. Throughout that journey, the Urubamba river flowed all along the canyon floor. During that trip I had been impacted by the immensity of this country and the extent of difference of this culture from that of my own background. So much I would never understand or know. Yet here I was with the water running past my feet, waiting for fish to bite. Right then, I felt like a tiny bit of me belonged to that river, like I had earned its respect or something.

Journey In Peru

Afterwards, I called to my first home in Quisiqoller. The family had gathered and Carlos was in the process of having an avocado facial treatment. I spoke to them only in Spanish. Carlos commended me on my improvement. I had lived with them for the first four weeks of my time here and had very limited conversation in the beginning.

Avocado Facial – Journey In Peru

Art Of Calle – Journey In Peru

Next I called to the Coffee Tree. This I was dreading. It was quiet that night. Only Alex and Roxanna there. Alex was busy with his computer while Roxanna studied her mobile phone. Alex made me a hot chocolate. We spoke very little which was not the way we usually were. ‘You are family,’ this Alex reminded me over and over in the final days.

Finally I got up to go. I hugged Roxanna and then turned to Alex. I saw him wipe a tear from his eye as he told me how he would miss me. I hugged him and headed as quickly as I could for the door. I rounded the corner in the direction of the Fortaleza and then the flood began. I was heartbroken.

Some of my friends met me as I arrived at Hooverts shop. They teased me, seeing my inability to control my emotions. Hoovert, was his usual upbeat self but he made no deception that he too was going to miss my presence. He presented me with a thoughtful gift. A book about Machu Picchu and a DVD with the cultural dances of Ollantaytambo, in which he also featured as a dancer. He made me promise to call in the morning to say a final goodbye as he would be opening his shop early at 7am.

By now it was dark and cold. Back in La Casa Del Abuelo some friends gathered to pass the time drinking a hot drink, which had a more than a drop of Pisco in it. Nobody spoke of my departure the next day.

©Caroline Cunningham Author Of Wild Star Landing (Blog)

Urubamba River Ollantaytambo Peru

Three Times Finalist In Ireland Blog Awards 2015

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Harley’s and Rum – Journey In Peru

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I was easily distracted from packing my bags. My friends knew I was going home soon but they only spoke of my return. One female friend insisted that it would be very soon. When I argued that it would take a lot of work and saving for that to happen she said to me ‘OK! I give you two years and then you return.’ Two years seemed like a long time then but it has already passed and I have not yet made the trip. It will happen.

Catty and Liz invited me to join them at the Coffee Tree. It was quiet that evening, early September. The season was settling to a slower pace of visitors. Twilight was setting itself for transition to starlight mode. Alex joined us as we sat outside.

I had a surprise which I revealed from my coat pocket. I had spotted it earlier in the Pacha Mama Shop. A bottle of ‘Abuelo’ Rum. I had been planning on giving it to Henry the owner of Casa Del Abuelo, one of my home’s in Ollantaytambo. I showed it to my friends. They were very impressed with the label and we laughed about my idea of giving it as a gift to Henry, the husband of Catty. ‘I think we will have to try it first,’ I hinted. They were all in agreement. Alex went to get the glasses with some coke and ice. It certainly went down well. ‘Henry will never know,’ Catty giggled as we drained the last drops between us.

Just then some bikers hauled into the Plaza De Armas, parking just across from us. ‘Motor Cycles!’ Catty cried in glee. ‘Harley Davidsons!’ I exclaimed. We crossed the square to take a closer look. The owners of the Harleys had made their way from Chile. They certainly didn’t mind our interest and allowed us to pose for photographs.

Journey In Peru

It was my second last night in Ollantaytambo. It contributed a mellow setting for the ending of this story in which I had placed myself. I recalled that first week, as I sat huddling in the square, thanking Venus for its familiarity and despairing at the silent sun’s rapid descent. A drama had unfolded. It had all the highs and lows of any tale that has ever been worthy of expression. But it was I who lived it, I who told it and the imprint is forever with me.

Ollantaytambo Peru

Every Day A Celebration – Journey In Peru

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Everyday gives cause for celebration and in Peru this is especially so. I witnessed many parades, festivals and demonstrations of the Peruvian culture during my nine weeks there. There is a Catholic Saint dedicated to almost every profession you can think of, along with days of thanksgiving to the natural elements such as the Earth, Water and all that comes from these sources.

Celebrating Saint of Police Peru

Patron Saint Of Police – Celebration in Peru

Parades featured music, dancing, flowers and decorated ornamental dolls held high. Often those parading would be dressed in colourful costumes of various traditions.

Water Day – Peru

In the city of Cuzco, once the Inca capital of the World, these demonstrations were more frequent and colourful but even in this small town of Ollantaytambo they had their ways of putting on a show.

Cuzco Celebrations

Independence Day was the most spectacular of all during my stay. Day Of The Water saw little children parading with balloons and banners displaying the importance of clean water for washing teeth and various activities. The water in Peru is often not fit for drinking so it was interesting that little children should be highlighting this.

Independance Day Ollantaytambo Peru

The day of the patron saint of transport saw every taxi and minibus parked up with balloons floating above them. The patron saint of the police gave rise to a gathering of police and their families drinking beer outside the station. When locals get married it is customary for the couple to parade around the town accompanied by a brass band playing the same tune I heard in other parts of Peru the previous year.

Independance Day Ollantaytambo Peru

Passing by the door of the church in the square one Sunday I waited a while to observe the goings on. The paintings on the walls were not the typical ones you’d see in a Catholic church, in fact, they displayed images more in line with the history of the people and their original beliefs, which were more associated with nature. At communion time the music switched to a Salsa rhythm and I learned afterwards that only those who had recently taken confession were eligible to receive.

Independance Day Ollantaytambo Peru

I had the privilege of being the onlooker of these eventful days. I concluded that I was living amongst a joyful nation. Each group taking its turn to keep the collective spirit high, perhaps preventing obsessions that rob the heart of its rightful state of sharing and being free.

Fiesta Del Carmen Peru

Back in Ireland, the closest resemblance of this joyous celebration was the sound of Harry Krishna’s beating their drums, dancing and singing, on their way down Dublin’s South William Street now and then. I always opened the window a little wider to hear them more clearly.

Having returned to live in the Irish countryside, I listen to the birds singing in the trees. They are either Peruvian or of the Harry Krishna faith because they sure know how to greet each new day in celebration.

Long Listed Best Travel Blog in Ireland Blog Awards 2015

Without Me – Journey In Peru

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Before leaving the ‘Beautiful People’ of Patacancha, it was incumbent that I should purchase some items of their traditional craft. I had been gifted the experience of a bygone era, diminished now from my own culture. It wasn’t so long ago that my own grandmother picked stones and potatoes harrowingly in the fields and a time when we had not so many creature comforts but this community thrived in its unaffectedness in an era of modern prosperity without much apparent desire for transformation.

Journey In Peru

With my little bits of Patacancha stored within my pockets, I climbed upon the motorbike, sat between my friends, Alex and Maria, and prepared myself for the journey back to Ollantaytambo. It was quite tricky on the downward trek. The mud had thickened and a truck had over-turned blocking our path. We waited a while . It was interesting to see how the men were dealing with the situation. Chains and vehicles were employed. A solution was imminent. But we were intent on getting home. Alex decided that he could make it solo if we could endeavour to meet him, on foot, beyond the obstacle.

Journey In Peru

My pretty golden ballerina shoes were already destroyed from the mud. I dismounted the motorbike and clung once more like a ninny to Maria. We made it to the other side and soon were on our way, downhill towards Ollantaytambo.

And how I remember it now. It was upon us to be arriving before the thick of darkness. Darkness was fast descending. The Patacancha River paid no heed to the light reduction, it simply gushed and rolled over rocks towards its counterpart, the Urubamba River, intent on its Amazonian arrival.

Patacancha River Peru

Ollantaytambo Peru

The air wetted itself completely. I hid my hands in the pockets of Alex’s jacket, concerned for his well-being on our ride against an increasingly freezing cold. We were whipped with sleet for the immediate part of our ride. Further down I became dull to the effects of it. I was more so haunted by the landscape. Here I was remembering a dream, a place I knew from distance memory, long before my arrival in this existence. I couldn’t explain it, except, it pierced me deeply with its intensity. I clung to my friend, realising, more than ever, how much he had come to mean to me.

Journey In Peru

He accepted me, a stranger, only two months ago, to help in his cafe. We had worked in close proximity, at first incapacitated by the barrier of language. Somehow a very special kinship had grown between us. I had always cherished that blessing he bestowed on me in the mornings when he greeted me upon arrival at the cafe. A benediction of appropriate kisses and afterwards the getting on with work and serving of customers.

He was half my age and locals would have considered him quite a catch in terms of his business acumen. In fairness to his manliness he had checked my susceptibility on two occasions as to whether I might like to join him for a drink.

To me he was an unknown entity. I had observed the reactions of some of the Peruvian men, passersby, with whom my friend was acquainted. There were times when they would go outside to have a chat and when they re-entered the cafe, it was apparent I had been the topic of their conversation. ‘Alex is a macho man!’ one older comrade remarked to me. Another bloke, much younger altogether, was not so inclined to hide his interest in the situation. In fact I was appalled at his sliminess, especially considering his good-looking, non-Peruvian girlfriend, sat right next to him as he challenged me suggestively with his eyes. I understood his preference for the wearing of loose pants. Alex also appeared to be quite uncomfortable by this fellows taunting demeanour.

Journey In Peru

He sometimes brought me exotic fruit and we kept each other company on evenings when all was quiet in the cafe and always I helped when it was required, even after I had officially given my notice of redundancy and emergence as travel writer.

But we were of different worlds entirely. Deep down I knew I could not expect this man to ever comprehend my own complexities. He deserved a much simpler path. I had my own ambitions for him. I could see it all before him, a beautiful young wife, some children, lots of prosperity with his business and just happiness all around. I was not a part of this dream. He would have to find it without me.

Ollantaytambo Peru

As we drew nearer to our destination, the same dog remembered to bite at our ankles and I reminded Alex to avoid the uncovered sizeable chamber in the road. We came to Ollantaytambo at the fall of night. Felipe, friend of Alex, was waiting to take our place on the back of the motorbike. Off they sped.

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