Raqchi

So after the hectic fun that was Cusco we headed off for some culture. Raqchi was our next stop, a small traditional town famous for its ruins. Sat at the base of a volcano, the Inca ruins were built as a temple to worship the gods in the volcano. Pilgrims came from miles around to bring gifts for the gods, so many that they had to build huge storage houses for the gifts. The temple itself is the tallest Incan building to exist, and even though some of it has turned to rubble, its pretty impressive. Here they built up to 3m in stone, then completed the rest in mud, some of which still stands today. I'm feeling a little 'Inca ruined out' having done nothing else for days, but this was worth the visit.

We gathered in the market ready to settle in Raqchi for the night, when it was announced that we were not camping or staying in a hotel, we were getting a 'Mum' for the night. So bags loaded on backs, we stood in pairs waiting to be allocated a mum (a little like being picked for games at school, doing our best impression of 'we're normal’, and hoping you don't end up with an evil dragon).

Julia stepped forward for us, a 39 year old lady who spoke Quechuan, a little Spanish, no English, but had friendly open arms welcoming us into her casa (home). Fifteen minutes walk from the square and with my 'Spanglish', international sign language and silly mimes, I learned she had 3 children, a husband who was out at work 'cleaning the fields???' and she worked selling her pottery and tending the family animals and crops. The house was just for her family, had two floors made from wood and stone, an outdoor bathroom, outdoor dining room and kitchen with open fire. They had basic electric and an outdoor tap for water.

After spending around 3 hours trying to explain;
Yes- I was 28
No- we weren't married
No- not just my friend
Yes- we did share a bedroom
No- I didn't have any children
No- not because I’m unwell
No- I don't look after the house, I work fulltime
No- we don't have a fire to cook on we have gas/electric
No- we don't grow anything, we don't have a garden
No- I have never owned a cow, unless I’ve bought bits of one from a supermarket........
We seemed to have bonded, she laughed and said ' ah, he is your spouse', I gave up and agreed we were married and we went to visit her animals.

At the end of her street (well, mud road) the village is greeted by the main highway then, just after that, lies open fields and a river. We were first instructed to cut down the wheat she was growing. It was under ripe but grown purely to feed the cows. It was hacked off at the root by a (huge scary looking) knife then layered on a rug that is tied round your back for carrying. Over in the next field were two cows both with 4 month old calves, tied together with rope and fixed to the ground by a tent peg. They loved the goods we offered, I cooed over the calves and vowed never to eat beef, ´Mum´ found two gringos amazed by cows hilarious and told us we would be drinking their milk for breakfast, mmmm?!

At the other side of the village I started laughing when all these loose hens started running and clucking after our ´mum´. Only then did I realize they were her hens, the villagers just have them loose and seem to know which ones are which. We gave them some of the wheat and collected eggs - for breakfast she informed us. Then there were the guinea pigs to feed which she keeps in a small shed, ready for those special occasions…

Pottery lesson next, round at her friend’s house. They clay they just dig up locally and then painted with natural dye paints. The wheel is hand driven and one lady showed us how to make a bowl. My turn next, whole group watching, waiting for it all to turn to mush on the wheel. I feel quite proud of my attempt, it looks like a bowl, yeah; its cracked but I did that on purpose to add character. I don’t think the lady was impressed and she never offered to put it in the oven and dry it for me – waste of fire I presume.

No our chores were not over, we had to go and collect tea next. Another field and failing light we were given the big knife again to cut down maize. The ones that look dirty and have wrinkly leaves are ripe and Ollie had the wonderful job of carrying them all back. What did taste really good was the bottom of the maize stalk, if you peel it you can eat it raw. Imagine the texture of celery dipped in sugar, well, I liked it. At the house we peeled the husks, then boiled and served them up with her homemade curd cheese. Tasted really, really good.

Off into the plaza to meet the rest of our group and also meet the other mums. We were dressed in traditional clothes by our mum. I think the blokes got off lightly, I had a massive skirt on that weighted a tonne, stupid hat that wouldn’t sit on your head and ´mum´ tied the carrying blanket round me so tight I couldn’t move my arms. A guitarist appeared and all the mums started singing and dancing and we joined in. They then asked for us to show them a traditional song and dance from England, what did they get? A good old fashioned ´Hokey Cokey´ done some what haphazardly without the use of arms.

6am start to the take the maize husks from last nights dinner to the cows, then a comical game of ´frogger´as we tried to walk to cows to the field across the busy highway. Have you ever tried to stop a cow when it wanted to walk? I just got pulled along the ground to the amusement of mum.

We said goodbyes over a breakfast of boiled maize, fresh cheese, potatoes, beetroot and eggs with hot milk and cinnamon all provided from her garden and animals.

We had a great time at the home stay and I recommend it to all, as long as you like corn on the cob.