The Ceviche Wars

 

By Alli Sinclair

The warm wind rustled the paper table cloth, and soft sand oozed between my wiggling toes as I waited for the dish that would make my taste buds have a fiesta. Gazing at the azure waters of the Pacific Ocean, I couldn’t think of a better place to be -- Mancora, on the far north coast of Peru, a haven for foodies, especially those with a penchant for devouring plates of ceviche.

Popular in most coastal regions of Central and South America, this seafood dish has been the centre of a dispute for many years. Made from fresh raw fish and marinated in lemon or lime juice, it is spiced with peppers, onion, salt and usually accompanied by sweet potato, lettuce, corn, or avocado (depending on which region you’re in). The juices cook the fish, but beware – only eat ceviche early in the day or else you’re likely to end up with a nasty bout of food poisoning. Unfortunately, I found out first hand why you don’t eat ceviche late afternoon, but it still didn’t put me off one of my favourite dishes.

Many nationalities have laid claim as to who invented ceviche. Central and South Americans and even some Polynesian islands in the South Pacific have all put their hand up as the creators.

Every former Spanish colony has its own version of ceviche. The Spaniards stocked citrus fruit on their ships to prevent scurvy on long voyages and some historians believe the recipe was brought to Peru by Moorish women from Granada, who accompanied the Spaniards, and the recipe morphed into the ceviche as we know it today.

Those in the Polynesian camp say the Spanish encountered this dish on their voyages through the islands. The Spanish sailors enjoyed it so much the recipe spread through the Spanish colonies, and each region put their own spin on it.

But perhaps the strongest argument is for Peru and Ecuador. Archaeologists have discovered evidence that documents ceviche was eaten by the Moche civilization in northern Peru almost 2,000 years ago. Some say banana passion fruit was originally used to marinate the fish, and when the Spanish arrived the indigenous people preferred to marinate their fish in limes and lemons.

Depending on who you talk to, you’ll get a different story and reasons why a certain country did, or didn’t, invent ceviche. Many a time I’ve inadvertently become embroiled in a heated discussion between a Peruvian and Chilean or Ecuadorian as to who created the original ceviche. At times I felt like I was back in Australia, debating with a New Zealander as to who invented the pavlova, but that is a whole other post and sure-fire way of getting our New Zealand readers offside. (I jest!)

I’ve eaten ceviche in many parts of the world (including an Australian version), but today I’ll post the Peruvian recipe.

1 ½ pounds of mahimahi, ono or bluenose bass, diced

½ red onion, slivered

¾ cup lime juice (make sure it is a highly acidic type)

1 habanero chili, seeded, halved and thinly sliced (optional)

1 tbsp of ají amarillo sauce (available pureed or in jars in most Latin markets)

½ cup cilantro leaves, chopped

1 orange sweet potato, peeled, boiled, cooled, and sliced

1 cob sweet corn, boiled and sliced into 1 inch pieces

4 butter lettuce leaves

Preparation:

Rinse diced fish and slivered red onion in cold water and dry thoroughly.

In a large glass bowl, combine fish, red onion, lime juice, salt, habanero, and ají amarillo (if using) . Cover and refrigerate for 20 minutes.

Just before serving, stir in the cilantro. Place lettuce leaves on the plate, sweet potato, and corn to the side and spoon the ceviche on top of the lettuce leaves.

Eat and enjoy!

To be honest, I don’t care who invented ceviche. All I know is whenever I hear the word, smell lemons and limes or eat the dish, I’m instantly transported back to a thatch roofed hut on a deserted beach in the Peruvian summer. My stomach rumbles, I can sniff the salty breeze and my mouth waters at the thought of diving into a dish that can cause heated debates between so many nationalities.

Dear reader, what summer food takes you back to a special time or place?

Delectable Delights and Daring Dishes

By Alli Sinclair

Now, no one can ever accuse me of not being adventurous. In my backpacking days it was usually me that came up with harebrained schemes that resulted in many fellow travellers shaking their head and saying, “No way, I’m not doing that! Are all Australians crazy like you?” This adventurous spirit didn’t just include scaling mountains and visiting places I really shouldn’t have, it also included food.

When someone asks me about a country, I tend to base my decision on the friendliness of the people and the quality of the food. Everything else is icing on the cake. Turkey is on top of my list for excellent food, but Latin America tops the list of bizarre local dishes. Here’s a rundown on some I have tried (or had others try and got their feedback because, really, everyone has a line that can’t be crossed):

Cuy, Peru

It took alcohol to get me to try this. Lots. Of. Alcohol. Cuy, or guinea pigs as we know them, were traditionally a food only eaten by indigenous people in the Andean highlands but since the 1960s, cuy is eaten by people all over Peru, Bolivia, Ecuador, and Colombia, including foreigners.

Guinea pigs are popular because they produce quickly, take up little space, and don’t eat much, plus their meat is high in protein and low in fat and cholesterol. The taste itself is gamey (like rabbit) and people serve cuy fried, boiled, roasted, or in a casserole or soup.

Peruvians eat around 65 million cuy a year, and it’s eaten as a celebration food for many religious festivals. This animal is so entrenched in the culture, there is even a painting of The Last Supper in a cathedral in Cuzco that has cooked cuy on the table.

My experience with Cuy was during the Summer Solstice festival in Peru. I’d been celebrating with friends who told me I couldn’t live in their country and not at least have tried cuy. I had been sitting in the sun at a restaurant, enjoying the local brew, Cusqueña, so it didn’t take too much persuading—until the cuy arrived at our table. The poor thing had been skewered, fried in fat and it looked at me with bucky teeth and arms and legs outstretched like it had just had a fright. I’m sure it did.

Not wanting to let my friends down, I bowed to the pressure and had a miniscule amount. I must add that I can’t stand anything gamey, so after my taste test I had to drink half a litre of beer to get rid of the greasy taste from my mouth. That was the day I discovered sometimes it is totally okay to say “no thank you.”

Anticucho, Peru

Beef heart skewers…really, what can I say about that one? Anticucho is served at many street stalls throughout Peru and locals delight in watching foreigner’s eyes bulge and mouths drop when they describe what this delicacy is. No, I didn’t try it, I didn’t have the heart (boom boom).

Calzones Rotos (Ripped Knickers), Chile

This is a Chilean dessert that tastes divine but it made it on my list of strange food because of the name—ripped knickers. Calzones rotos are flat dried pastry twisted into interesting shapes and topped with icing sugar. Yum yum. Add a cup of strong Chilean coffee and you won’t hear me utter a word until I’ve finished both.

Chirimoya, Andes (although some will argue Central America)

Chirimoya trees thrive in the tropics at altitudes of 1,300 to 2,600 metres (4,300 to 8,500 feet). It is now cultivated throughout the world but in my mind, Chirimoya will always be a South American fruit to me.

The name, chirimuya originates from Quechua, a language of the indigenous people of South America. Meaning “cold seeds” because it grows at high altitude, chirimuya morphed into chirimoya, a combination of Quechua and Spanish. The fruit has an array of varieties, textures, and shapes and the flavours can be acidy sweet or mellow sweet. Depending on the fruit and the person, people say it tastes like papaya, strawberry, pear, pineapple, apple, or banana.

I had a wonderful cherimoya supplier near the apartment where I lived I in Cuzco, and he would delight in offering the different variations to try. Not far down from the fruit seller was a lady who made the best fruit juices I’ve ever tasted and yes, chirimoya was one of my favourites.

How about you? What delicacies have you tried whilst travelling that you wouldn’t dare taste at home? Do tell!

Crossing the Line

By Alli Sinclair 

Alli is entertaining international guests this week so we're running a post from a couple of years ago. Enjoy!

The Cessna putters along the stony runway, strong wind gusts pushing the tail off course. Just when I think the pilot will abandon the take-off, he guns the engine. I suck in my breath and grab the sides of the cracked leather seat I’m sitting on. With eyes squeezed shut, the flying tin can shudders beneath my feet and finally builds to a quaking crescendo. When we’re airborne, I pry one eye open and figure if I’m going to die, then it might as well be with a bird’s eye view of one of the ancient world’s unsolved mysteries-the Nazca Lines in Peru.

Luckily, the plane steadied and I made the journey safely, but I’d already forgotten my fear of dropping out of the sky like bird doo-doo once I got my first glimpse of the mysterious lines that can only be seen from the sky. Listed by UNESCO as a World Heritage Site, the Nazca lines are situated on an arid plateau 250 miles (400km) south of Lima and date back to between 400 and 650 AD. There are hundreds of geometric shapes, which include drawings of hummingbirds, spiders, monkeys, fish, sharks, and llamas.

No one knows for sure who made the shallow lines, but scientists agree the lines were made by removing the red rocks on the surface of the earth to expose white rocks beneath. From the ground, these lines appear to be a mish-mash with no apparent rhyme or reason. But from the air, these odd patterns take on a totally different meaning. The two most well-known lines are the 295 feet (90m) high monkey an extravagantly curving tail and a condor with a 426 feet (130m) wingspan.

Discovered in 1927 by passengers on a commercial flight taking a new route, the Nazca Lines have baffled anthropologists, archaeologists, and ethnologists, as well as lay men. Many have tried to discover the who the creators are for what reason the lines exist, but to date, but to date, no one has any concrete answers. Here are just a few of the theories that have been put forward:

Maria Reiche, a German mathematician, spent her life studying the lines and claimed the indigenous people of Nazca created them as a way of communicating with their gods in the sky and also as an astronomical calendar for agriculture.

In the 1970’s, American Jim Woodman tested out his theory that the creators of the lines used balloons made of fine Peruvian cotton and reed baskets. He asked the Aymara Indians to make a hot air balloon that could have been used by the Nazca people from that time period. From the sky, he could see the lines clearly but without using technology, he couldn’t signal those on the ground as to where to move the rocks. His theory literally blew sky high when the balloon caught fire and the two pilots made a narrow escape.  

Swiss author Erich von Däniken held a theory that a long time ago, aliens visited earth. After the aliens disappeared the Nazca people made the lines in the hope they would get the message and return. Many people like to poo-poo this theory, but those who believe it will very quickly point out the spaceman figure on a hill near the main lines.

Anthropologist William H. Isbell believes the kings of Nazca ordered the people to make these lines because if the commoners were working, then they couldn’t procreate. And if they couldn’t procreate then their inadequate stores of food would become strong enough to sustain a limited population. 

Anthropologists Markus Reindel and David Johnson believe the lines are markers for subterranean water. The figures show the water stream, and zigzag lines show where they end. American Professor of Anthropology, Anthony Aveni has a similar belief but adds that the lines are connected with calendar, water, and mountain deities. It’s with this belief, he feels the Nazca people celebrated a water cult and used the figures and lines for ceremonial dances.

John D. Miller analyzes ancient buildings worldwide and has discovered they often hold a value of 177 feet. He bases his theories on several holy numbers and units of measurement and believes the Nazca Lines fit within the 177 feet model. 

The Code of Carl Munck believes ancient sites around the world are precise positions on a global, coordinated system in relation to the position of the Great Pyramid of Giza. An ancient system called Gematria or Gematrian numbers are found in ancient myths and religions, including the Bible, and according to Gematria experts, the Nazca Lines fall neatly into this patterning.

Phew! And this is just a short list of theories. It’s very easy to Google to your heart’s desire to find out more. For me, floating with the birds, staring wide-eyed at the lines below, wondering who, why, and how, was an experience I’ll never forget. Maybe one day, we’ll find discover the real reason behind the Nazca Lines, but for now, I’m happy to analyze the theories and come to my own conclusion. And in case you’re wondering, I did kiss the ground when we landed.

Truth Wilder Than Fiction

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By Alli Sinclair

When I first lived in Peru, I knew a little about the history but I was by no means an expert. As part of my work as a tour guide I had to study up, and I did so with glee. I find it disconcerting these events actually happened and the suffering that ensued is horrible but it’s hard not to read about the events in the Incan Empire in the 1500s and not think of it as an over-blown version of Dallas. Or perhaps I just watch too much television…

In 1532 a civil war broke out between Incan half-brothers Atahualpa and Huáscar. Unable to rule the Incan Empire together, Atahualpa took control of northern region and Huáscar the south, which included the political capital of Cuzco. Not content with his lot, Huáscar ordered his men to take Atahualpa prisoner but he escaped and in retaliation amassed 30,000 troops to attack Huáscar. Atahualpa declared war and as he advanced close to Cuzco, Huáscar’s inexperienced men were defeated. The day Atahualpa received news of his victory, Francisco Pizzaro, a Spanish conquistador descended into the northern Incan town of Cajamarca. He only had 180 men and 30 horses with him.

Pizarro’s perfect timing meant he could take advantage of the division within the Incan Empire and set about achieving his own goals for the Spanish. After securing an audience with Atahualpa, Pizarro demanded that Atahualpa and his people cast aside their religious beliefs and agree to a treaty with Spain. Of course, Atahualpa refused and the canons and highly-trained Spaniards overpowered the slings, stone axes, and cotton-padded armour of the Incas. The bloody battle killed close to 6,000 Incas but only five Spaniards.

Pizarro’s men captured Atahualpa who offered to fill a large room with treasure to secure his release. Pizarro accepted and received delivery of 24 tonnes of gold taken from various regions of the Incan Empire. Even though Atahualpa paid handsomely for his release, Pizarro put him on trial for arranging the murder of Huascar (so he didn’t pay Pizarro with more Incan riches to ensure Atahualpa stayed imprisoned), and for plotting to overthrow the Incan Empire. The Spanish tribunal found Atahualpa guilty and he was given the choice of being burned alive or the quicker option of hanging if he converted to Christianity. Atahualpa chose the latter so his body could be preserved for Incan mummification.

After his death, the new Incan Emperor and Huascar’s brother, Manco Capac, bowed to Pizarro and his men, allowing them to establish Lima in 1535. This city became the launching pad for another conquistador, Diego Almagro, to attack Chile and allowed Pizarro to communicate better with his leaders in Panama.

A year later, Capac led an uprising but failed. This defeat marked the end of the Inca’s resistance to Spanish rule and the end of an empire.

An empty-handed Almagro returned from Chile, having discovered the poor state of the region. Disheartened, he demanded a share of the riches from Pizarro, who refused, and another civil war broke out, but this time between the Spanish. Almagro seized the Incan capital, Cuzco, in 1538 but Pizarro teamed up with his half-brother, Hernando, to defeat and kill Almagro. But, and this is where it becomes more like a soapie than a history book, Almagro’s son, Diego el Monzo, attacked Pizzaro’s palace in Lima and had him killed. Monzo became Governor of Peru but the Spanish crown didn’t acknowledge his role and in 1542 Monzo was captured and executed by the Spanish. The Spanish Empire remained in a state of turmoil until the 1550s when Viceroy Andres Hurtado de Mendoza finally established a sense of order.

That’s quite a lot of events packed into a short period of history, isn’t it? So next time you watch a TV show about family rivalry and vicious take-overs, you might be prompted to remember the Spanish and the Incas and how truth can be wilder than fiction.

Pisco—A Bitter Rivalry

By Alli Sinclair

Working in an Irish pub in Peru had its advantages—happy hour ran for two, alcohol was cheap, and it was the perfect place to meet tourists from around the world. Before I was let loose to serve in the bar, I had to learn to make a mean Pisco Sour and luckily, this entailed taste-testing my efforts (although some were decidedly atrocious).

I got the hang of making the perfect Pisco Sour so quickly my boss thought I was Peruvian in a past life. But the Chileans that graced the Irish pub didn’t think so. They’d tut-tut my boss for allowing the gringa to make a drink with Peruvian pisco (even though the Chileans were in Peru).

Many Chileans lectured me as to why Chilean pisco was better and how the Peruvians stole their drink and claimed it as their own. It didn’t take long for me to figure out Peruvians and Chileans happily engaged in long-standing arguments about borders, football, food (check the Cerviche Wars here) and, of course, pisco.

I tend to be a fence sitter in these situations because it doesn’t pay to get either party offside. After all, I’d been a guest in both their countries and planned to spend more time in each. So depending on which country I was in, I’d nod and say, “Yes, yes, your pisco is much better than theirs.” We’d clink glasses, down the potent alcohol, and shake our heads at the disgraceful behavior of the neighboring country trying to steal the precious Pisco name.

Depending on where your pisco is from the grape brandy ranges from clear to amber in color. Developed by the Spanish settlers in the 16^th century, pisco replaced orujo, a pomace brandy imported from Spain.

Chilean pisco is produced in the Elqui Valley, in the Andes. The Muscat grape is mostly used, although some vineyards prefer Pedro Jiménez or Torontel. The pisco is double-distilled in copper pot stills and the end result ranges from 60 to 86 proof. Yowza! There is Regular, Control, Special, Reserve, and Great Pisco with the Regular a poor cousin to the others.

Peruvian pisco is produced in copper pot stills also and is made with grapes grown in the regions of Ica Valley, Pisco and Ica. Yes, Pisco is the name of a river as well as a town in Peru, another handy point in the Peruvian’s argument about where pisco originated. In Peru there is Puro (Pure), Aromáticas (Aromatic), Mosto Verde (Green Must), and Acholado (Half-breed) varieties of pisco.

Peruvians love their pisco so much they have set aside the first Saturday of February for El Dia Nacional Del Pisco Sour (National Pisco Sour Day) and participants wear red and white, the colors of the Peruvian flag. When the national anthem is played, whoever is drinking pisco must finish the drink as sign of respect.

If you’re willing to delight your taste buds, I suggest you click here for an array of pisco recipes.

Hmmm…. I’m a tad thirsty. It’s five o’clock somewhere in the world, right? Cheers!

The Incan Triad Gods

By Alli Sinclair

Alli is taking a short break this week so we're running her post from November last year about the Incan gods and their relationship with the weather. 

Travelling through the lands where the Incas once lived, it’s hard not to marvel at their craftsmanship when it came to building fortresses and cities out of large blocks of stone. But what has intrigued me most about the Incas is the wonderful myths, legends, and beliefs that powered this captivating civilization.

My last book, Vestige, had a lot of Incan theology in it, and every time I did research, I would come across conflicting versions of gods, descriptions of their appearances, and purpose. Rarely were two descriptions ever the same, and this is to do with the Incas adapting their religion as their world expanded. Once the Spanish arrived, the Incas’ belief that they were the only people in existence had to change, and as a result, their beliefs were challenged. 

The Triad Gods were among the Incas’ most revered and they were worshipped at places like Qoricancha, Cuzco’s main temple. These multi faceted celestial beings had overlapping powers, and even though they were worshipped at the same time, some received more attention than others.

Wiraqocha – The Creator:

Sometimes known as Viracocha, the Incas held this god in the highest esteem. The Incas didn’t make sacrifices or tributes to Wiraqocha, creator of all things, as he had everything he wanted in his possession and needed nothing from men other than their worship. Wiraqocha created the sun and moon, and the people who populated the earth.

When Wiraqocha appeared in human form, he had rays above his head, snakes entwined around his arms, and puma heads projecting from his body. An excellent example of his image is the central figure on the Gate of the Sun at Tiwanaku, in Bolivia.

Inti – The Sun:

The Incas held numerous ceremonies dedicated to Inti, the patron saint of their empire, to ensure the emperor’s welfare as well as encourage bountiful harvests. Every province had land and herds dedicated to the Sun God, and the church had its own storehouses that kept supplies for the priests and priestesses and also for sacrifices.

By 1532, Inti had risen in popularity and by that point, Inti beat all the other gods combined hands down in terms of dedicated worship and monuments. Inca rulers claimed direct genealogical links to the Creator through the Sun, as the Creator fathered Inti, who in turn sired the king.

Inti was represented in a golden statue, depicting a small boy sitting down. Called Punchao (day), this effigy had solar rays projecting from his head and shoulders, ear spools, a chest plate, and royal headband. Serpents and lions also grew from his body. To the Incas, Punchao bridged the gap between humanity and the sun, and when rulers died, their organs were placed in the hollow stomach of the statue, which they then housed in the main temple and brought out onto the patio during the day before returning indoors at night.

Inti-llapa – The Thunder God:

This god of thunder, lightning, rainbows, and every other meteorological phenomena was depicted as a human man who wielded a war club in one hand and a sling in the other. When the people heard thunder, they believed it was Inti-llapa cracking his sling, and the lightning was a glittering flash off his metal garments as he moved through the heavens. Lightning bolts were the sling stones that he cast, and the Milky Way was the heavenly river from which he drew the rainfall. His image, Chucuylla, was kept in a temple called Pukamarka, in the Chinchaysuyu quarter of Cuzco, which also held an image of the Creator God. When the Incas needed rain, they prayed to Inti-llapa.

The belief system of the Incas is wide and varied, and even though they couldn’t see their gods in the flesh, their faith in their gods’ existence helped grow an expansive and fascinating empire across South America. 

Even though the great Incan civilization disappeared many, many years ago, the monuments they left behind and the writings of the Spanish Chronicles help us to understand what they believed in. Supernatural gods with amazing powers were the norm, and even though the Spanish conquerors tried to convert the Incas to Catholicism, they held on to their supernatural gods to help them through their changing world and challenging times.

Machu Picchu – One Step at a Time

By Alli Sinclair

For a continent that thrives on the tourism archaeology provides, it is almost impossible for me to pick a favorite site in South America. Up until now, I’ve avoided covering the Incan Citadel of Machu Picchu in Peru as the story’s been done to death all over the web, but if I’m entirely honest, even after 42 visits to the site, I am still enthralled by the tightly held secrets between the walls of this once lost city.

I know, 42 is a rather high number in anyone’s book, right? But when I worked as a tour guide I had the pleasure of taking groups up to this amazing site and we would travel via the Inca Trail or by train—either way is impressive.

July 24 last year saw the celebration of 100 years since Hiram Bingham first discovered Machu Picchu. Local farmers knew about the existence of this 15^th century Inca city way before the western world, and for hundreds of years, farmers grew their crops along the citadel’s flanks.

Classified as a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1983, Machu Picchu covers 32,500 hectares (80,300 acres) and has 172 dwellings and stepped agricultural terraces. The popularity of this site has grown over the years, and with over 2,000 people visiting every day, measures need to be put in place to keep this pristine example of Incan life intact.

Even after working in tourism for 15 years, I still struggle with the impact tourism has. In my eyes, everyone has a right to visit important sites and have the opportunity to learn first-hand about the heritage of cultures, including our own. But we need to respect the archaeological sites we visit and ensure the place is left the way we found it. Hence, my passion for eco tourism.

I love that archaeology is accessible to anyone who wishes to learn about it, but there are limits. With so many people traipsing across the slopes of Machu Picchu, geologists are worried about a landslide of epic proportions. In 1995, there were two incidents when the land moved and scientists are afraid one major earthquake on the west coast of the country could be enough to send Machu Picchu toppling onto the town of Aguas Calientes directly below.

Even with people doing their best to leave Machu Picchu intact, the buses that drive from the train station up and down the windy road every single day don’t help. Trekking to the site is more eco-friendly these days, but in the past, when trekkers could do the trail on their own, the trail was commonly known as the “Inca Garbage Dump.” A few years back the Peruvian government wised up and now only allow 500 trekkers on the trail per day and they can only travel with a registered trekking company that has gone through a rigid approval system. Finally, people are realizing the negative effects we can have on our archaeological treasures.

But it’s not all bad. Machu Picchu is the main reason people visit the city of Cuzco, the stepping off point to see the archaeological marvel. Tourists bring dollars, and the dollars are used to keep locals in jobs and their children in school. People from all over the world gather to exchange experiences and learn about the local culture. With so many people aware of the archaeological sites throughout South America, it is harder for authorities and individuals to abuse important archaeological sites. And even though I escorted groups to visit Machu Picchu, the company I worked for hired qualified archaeologists to take my clients around the site and expertly explain the history.

Sure, there are people who travel to archaeological sites that don’t care about the impact they make. They break of pieces off rock, leave garbage, and are noisy and disrespectful to the locals. Thankfully, those “people” are in the minority. My experience of living in Cuzco and traveling to Machu Picchu on a regular basis showed me a majority of people, both travelers and locals, give this wonderful lost city the respect it deserves and want to see it preserved for future generations.

Machu Picchu is famous for a reason. Standing at the Sun Gate, the entrance to the ruins for trekkers, watching the sun rise and the expanse of fertile pastures and the grey citadel below, one can’t help be mesmerized by such beauty. In the quiet of the early morning, it’s easy to imagine what life may have been like for the 1,000 inhabitants back in the 15^th Century. No one knows for sure what was Machu Picchu’s true purpose was back then, but today, this archaeological marvel brings people together in a world of fascination and wonder.

Death and the Afterlife

By Alli Sinclair

Call me morbid, but I’ve always held a fascination for the way different cultures deal with death. It’s not uncommon for me to take a Sunday stroll with hubby through a cemetery and us spend time imagining what kind of lives the people now buried there used to lead. When I was in Bali, I was fascinated and honored to be included in a burial celebration for a distant relation of a tour guide I met and Varanasi in India had me entranced with the funeral pyres. And every year, while I lived in South America, I liked celebrating Dia de los Santos Difuntos--Day of the Deceased Saints, with my friends and their families.

When I first started writing VESTIGE, I researched Incan weddings and funerals for the historical component of my story. I was lucky enough to meet an anthropologist with a passion for all things Inca and we spent many afternoons discussing the various practices used throughout the Incan empire. His incredible knowledge could easily fill five hefty books, but alas I’m limited to one blog post, so here goes:

According to the Incas, when a person passed from this world, their thirsty spirit travelled the land in search of chicha (Incan fermented maize), and in need of food. The loved one’s dressed in black and grieved, and for five days mourners would be accompanied by musicians and sing songs of sorrow, drink alcohol and eat. The women closest to the deceased would cut off their long tresses or tear out their eyelashes as a sign of grief.

People would gather at the deceased’s most favorite place or where his or her greatest success had been achieved, and while there, the loved ones could recount significant events and fond memories.

When the commoner’s were buried, they would be accompanied by their tools of trade and perhaps some food or chicha, while the Lords would be dressed in their finery and buried with their wealth. Occasionally their wives and servants accompanied them.

The funeral for a kuraka, a regional ruler entailed the mummified body placed in a pucullo, a burial chamber, along with various goods to accompany the deceased into the afterlife. The community would band together and offer llama sacrifices, textiles, cuy (guinea pig), and ceramics at the burial site.

The death of a royal was celebrated in much the same way as a commoner, but on a grander scale. Once the ruler died, his passing would be kept secret until a successor was named. The ruler would be embalmed and placed in Qorikancha Temple Qorikancha Temple. Of course everything was on a grander scale, including the sacrifices. Unfortunately, the Incas not only sacrificed llamas when their ruler died, but 1,000 children were sacrificed in pairs at mountain shrines throughout the region.

The mourning period for a ruler spread across ten days and a further couple of weeks were spent traveling to the ruler’s significant sites—battle victories, agricultural fields, and monuments—where people would speak of the emperor’s greatest acts and victories.

Royal mummies were dressed in a fine tunic and jewelry then wrapped in six layers of precious textiles woven with vicuña fur and feathers, shells, and threads of gold. A piece of silver or coca leaf was placed in his mouth and the emperor’s grave contained several changes of clothing, food, and weapons for the afterlife.

A group of relatives, known as panaqa, were charged with the care of the deceased emperor and they ensured the mummy was kept in food and water. Often, the mummy would be consulted in difficult matters and the people carried on as if the mummies were still living. They even went so far as to gather mummies together for celebrations.

Traveling through the regions that were once part of the Incan Empire, it’s easy to spot pucullos of both the commoners and royalty. Which type of pucullos people were buried in depended greatly on where the deceased person lived.

In the eastern quarter of the empire, in Antisuyu, the people in this rain forest buried their dead in hollowed out trees. The northern quarter, Chinchaysuysu, people held open-air burials where the mummified remains were left out in the elements for five days before being placed in the pucullo.

In the southern quarter of the empire, in Collasuyu, the people were placed in pucullos away from the towns of the living. The cluster of pucullos were commonly known as the “village of the dead.” And in Cuntisuyu, the south western corner of the Incan Empire, the people utilized the dry, mountain environment and placed their dead in natural nooks and crannies.

Some pucullos were made from the traditional method of fitting stones together without mortar (Cuzco is famous for this work), while other regions used adobe bricks. Along the coast, pucullos had numerous chambers and in the mountains, some pucullos towered over 30 feet in height.

I could go on, but I’ll stop here for now. Death, like life, has many facets and through exploring the different belief systems of cultures from around the world, we can learn so much.

How about you? Have you ever experienced or read about a burial from a culture you find fascinating?

Sampling Local Life on the Street

By Alli Sinclair

I’ve been fortunate enough to travel at both ends of the spectrum throughout South America. I’ve stayed in $2 a night rat holes and hotels that cost more per night than I could earn in a week (luckily, work paid for it!). The thing is, wherever I go, I tend to gravitate to the vendors selling food on the street. Not only is a great way to people watch, it’s the perfect opportunity to literally get a taste of local life.

So for those of you wanting to know more about street food in South America, here’s your guide:

Nothing is sweeter…

Than fresh toffee. Baños de Agua Santa, or Baños as it is affectionately known, is situated in the valley of Tungurahua Province in central Ecuador. Renowned for the hot springs dotted in and around the town, Baños is also famous for the toffee shops where you can watch a toffee expert sling a length of toffee on a nail in the doorframe, stretch it, and repeat the process until the delectable delight is beaten into perfection. Be wary though, if one of the toffee throwing experts asks you to have a try, make sure you tie back your hair and have a fresh change of clothes!

Cooked food that isn’t

When I first heard about raw fish marinated in lime juice, the first thing I thought was “well, that’s a good way to end up driving the porcelain bus”. But when a Peruvian friend talked me into trying cerviche, I was instantly hooked, so much so that I lived on it whenever I travelled the coasts of Chile, Peru, and Ecuador.

For those who don’t like “fishy fish” don’t worry because the citric acid cooks the fish so that strong fish taste disappears. What you’re left with is succulent fish in a sauce of lime juice, red pepper, onion, and cilantro. Depending on which country you’re in, cerviche may look like a soup or a mountain of fish stacked on a plate.

If you’d like to learn more or how to make it yourself, check out my post on the Cerviche Wars here.

Fast food at its finest

Empanadas, the staple of the budget traveller, are a much more interesting and cheaper alternative to fast food from the international burger and chicken chains. These stuffed pastries are available just about everywhere and you can choose between fried or baked, vegetarian or full to the brim with meat, peas, or cheese.

One of my most memorable empanada experiences was in the seaside town of Montañita, Ecuador. The lady down the road from my beach hut cooked the most amazing fried cheese empanadas and she topped it off with a choice of chilli sauce or sugar, depending on your mood. Mmmmm… que rico!

If you would like read about how empanadas can bond people from many nations and you want a recipe,click here.

Melting moments

Hands down, my favourite street food is ice-cream made and sold by an Argentine ma and pa. Sure, the large chains like Freddo in Argentina are up there in comparison to ice-cream around the world, but the real treat is eating these frozen treats that are sold directly by the manufacturer (ie a local family). As with any street food, you need to use your brain and assess hygiene standards, but usually you’ll find ice-cream vendors take great pride in their product and the chances of you getting sick are minimal.

With an array of flavours to choose from, making a decision can be difficult. My suggestion? Go for the dulce de leche. Be warned, though, once you’ve had it, every other flavour will pale in comparison.

And in case you want to know more about how Argentine ice cream has influenced my life, click here.

I could go on about horchata (a warm milky drink made from rice and sesame seeds), churros (the funnel cake of Latin America), tamales (empanada like stuffing but with cornmeal dough and kinda soggy), and platanos fritos (especially platanos maduro, the unforgettable pancake-like dish) but unfortunately I’d run out of room on this post!

With so much street food on offer, Latin America is the perfect place to exercise the taste buds and learn more about the locals. Language is never a barrier as food, like love, can create wonderful bonds. And if you try something and don’t like it, put it down to experience and be happy you’ve got yet another exciting travel tale to tell.

How about you? What’s your favourite street food? What about the worst one you’ve tried?

A Tale Of Two Religions

By Alli Sinclair

One of the most wonderful things about living in a culture different to your own is the opportunity to have new experiences every day. When I lived in Peru, the similarities we shared surprised me and many, many times the differences had me entranced. What I loved most, though, was the Peruvians ability to hold on to their Incan beliefs and blend it with the influences of the Spanish, creating a fascinating, ever-evolving culture.

The main cathedral in Cuzco, Peru, is a classic example. Situated on Plaza Independencia, the main plaza in Cuzco, this impressive structure houses the beliefs of two religions, albeit in a dramatic fashion.

Forming an annexe to the cathedral is the Iglesia de Triunfo, built on the foundations of Wiracocha, an Incan palace. During construction of the church that started in 1559, stones from Sacsayhuamán, an Incan fortress just outside Cuzco, were used—stones that had been painstakingly cut and placed in fortress walls made without mortar.

In 1654, the church was finally finished, despite weathering a devastating earthquake in 1650 that damaged or destroyed many other churches and Incan sites in the region. Within the walls of the church are examples of the Cusqueña School of Painting, including a painting of the last supper by artist Marcos Zapata.

What a brave man Marcos Zapata must have been to create the painting he did in 1753. If you take a close look, you’ll find the centrepiece of the supper is cuy, a guinea pig popular amongst Peruvians, even today. The little rodent is eaten during many religious celebrations and I have more than one story to tell about this, but I’ll leave that for one of our “foodie” posts.

Not only is cuy present but if you study hard you’ll see there are two platters of foods popular with the Incas, including purple, red, tan, and yellow potatoes, peppers, and corn. And what would a religious painting be without controversy? The cloudy, yellow-coloured liquid in the foreground is rumoured to be chicha, an alcoholic drink the Incas make out of maize and spit (yes, we need a post on this one, too!).

Local guides at the church are keen to point out that Judas, seated to the right of Christ, is clutching a moneybag beneath the table and appears to look directly at the viewer of the painting. For generations, locals have said the image of Judas in this painting bears strong resemblance to Francisco Pizarro, the Spaniard responsible for capturing and murdering the Inca Emperor Atahualpa.

When I first visited the church, a guide told me the Incas that had been “recruited” for the construction and had inserted a stone from one of their sacred sites. This way, when the Incas attended church under orders from the Spaniards, they could brush their fingers on the sacred stone near the entrance of the church as a way to ask forgiveness from their gods for entering the Catholic church.

Carved on the wooden doors of the church are pumas, the Incan symbol for the earth, yet another indication of the Incan influence on this Catholic church.

Even though Catholicism is popular throughout South America, there are many references to local beliefs and cultures influencing “imported” religions, such as Catholicism and Protestantism. I love how people have put their own spin on religion, sometimes melding the two effortlessly. Of course, many battles were fought when the Spanish arrived in South America, and this adaption of Catholicism wasn’t without suffering, but today, the people appear to have found a way to balance their beliefs and ancestry.

Behind The Mask – Paucartambo, Peru

By Alli Sinclair

When I lived in Cuzco, Peru, I got to experience a festival every other week. People are always celebrating something – festivals for the living, festivals for the dead, for Incan gods, summer solstice, winter solstice… the list goes on. Many of these events are held on a grand scale and streets are crowded with tourists and locals drinking and dancing until the wee hours of the morning, only to wake up the next day and do it over again. One of my favourite festivals, however, isn’t as well known as the others, but boy, it is impressive.

The rural town of Paucartambo is situated four hours north-east from Cuzco. The trip isn’t for the faint-hearted as the narrow, windy roads and steep canyons make even the most adventurous travellers a tad nervous. Most of the year, Paucartambo is a lunch stop for tourists on their way to Manu Jungle, but when July 15 rolls around, this sleepy town comes alive with colour, music, and fireworks.

For three days, locals and a handful of tourists gather to celebrate El Virgin del Carmen. Not only does this festival embrace Christian beliefs but the Virgin embodies Pachamama (Mother Earth), a sacred deity of the Incas. During celebrations, the town’s population swells from 1,500 to 12,000 and accommodations can be scarce. It’s definitely a matter of who you know, and the best way to find a place to stay to contact a local tour operator in Cuzco and book your stay ahead of time.

What sets this festival apart from many others is the masks the dancers wear during the festivities. Pointed chins, arched eyebrows, and large eyes are only some of their features, and among the most popular are the white masks that represent the conquistadors. Whenever these make an appearance, there’s a lot of hissing and booing from onlookers.

Around twenty dance groups take part in the fiesta, and the dances represent the stories of their people. The Capac Q’olla is a religious dance that honours the merchants who brought their wares to Paucartambo.

On the first day of the Virgen del Carmen Festival, people gather in front of the town's main church which lies on the largest plaza. The dancers surround the church, wearing their masks and colourful costumes, and two dancers march inside the back of the church to salute the Virgen del Carmen statue. These two dancers depict Capaq Qolla (the people of the region), and Capaq Negro, who wears a black mask and represents the African slaves who once worked in the silver mines nearby.

Throughout the celebrations Maqtas, impish tricksters, run among the crowds and ensure people behave as the Virgin is paraded by. They demand people take off their hats and stop drinking in the Virgin's presence.

The church holds a spiritual mass and the townsfolk follow the dancers and wend their way between shops and houses, bearing candles, flowers, and other offerings to the Virgin. In the evening, the town square explodes with fireworks and music, and dancers jump over bonfires. At midnight, everyone calms down and says a prayer for the Virgin in front of the church's closed doors.

And the next morning, the heads of each dance group pass out gifts of fruit and handicrafts to the people attending the mass. By that afternoon, the Virgin is adorned in exquisite fabric and is escorted through the streets by Capaq Cunchos (guardians of the Virgin). They form the head of the procession and the dancers follow behind, decked out in their colourful costumes and masks, musicians playing accompanying tunes.

By day three, each dance group performs a routine through the cemetery and onlookers sing about ancestry and their own mortality. The Virgin is taken through the streets again and is brought to a bridge. Once there, people bow their heads and Capaq Negro and Capaq Qolla sing a farewell prayer.

The Virgin is then retired to the church until the following year, and the main plaza fires up with a party to end all parties.

Of all the festivals I’ve attended around the world, Paucartambo is very dear to my heart. Even now, years later, remembering the wonderful people who welcomed and encouraged me to join the celebrations brings a smile to my face.

How about you? What festival has left you with fond memories?

Seek And Ye Shall Find (Eventually)

Photo by Luis Garcia

I’ve never understood some people’s aversion in asking for directions when lost. It never made sense. Why would you spend all afternoon roaming the streets, confused and stressed, when you could be in a bar, enjoying the local brew and watching other tourists wander past, puzzled expressions adorning sunburnt phizogs, and clutching out-of-date guidebooks?

Luckily, I’ve never had a problem asking questions, which is just as well because I am very good at getting lost. When I became a tour guide in South America, my family and friends had every right to worry—for my clients. But alas, their fears were unfounded (in the end).

When I first started out as a tour guide, my Spanish was so-so. I had a firm understanding, certainly enough to ask for beer and where the nearest hospital was, but asking for directions, well… let’s just say a pen and paper and a big, fat smile worked wonders. I became adept at drawing stick figures (hey, my cows don’t look like chickens!), and through my, ahem, diversions, I have met some amazing people and experienced some very unique places.

For example:

When I worked as a tour guide, I needed a home base in Cuzco, Peru. All I wanted was a small apartment to call home between tours and my shifts at the Irish Pub, so one late (and slightly inebriated) night, a friend scribbled down an address of an apartment they knew was up for rent. The next day, bleary eyed, I made my way to where I thought the apartment was, only to find I had the right street name but wrong neighbourhood. The kind lady, whose door I’d bashed on, fired rapid Spanish at me and I stood on her doorstep, my brain whirring but not connecting.

I pulled out my trusty pen and paper, and through some excellent drawing that Picasso would be proud of, I worked out there was a lady down the road who had a place for rent. Figuring I was already in the hood, I toddled down the street and after much searching for non-existent house numbers, I found the place.

Pachacuti statue near my apartment. Photo by D. Gordon E. Robertson

When I was given a tour of the apartment, I nearly fell over with excitement. For a modest rent, I could have an apartment that offered views of the terracotta roofs of Cuzco and the hills behind. Every morning I could wake up and watch the sun rise while hot air balloons floated across the horizon. I could take a thirty minute walk into the city, where the offices of my employer were located, and down the street from my abode was the local market where I could shop for fresh produce and guzzle as much juice as I wished.

Turns out, there’s a lot to be said for getting lost.

After that, every time I hit the road (sans clients), I allowed a bit of wandering around with sunburnt phizog time to allow a new, unplanned experience. Sometimes the windy roads led me to dead ends, other times I stumbled upon a cute ma and pa café that served local cuisine or sold interesting art work. And each meandering left me with an experience I would never forget.

How about you? When have you gotten lost and found a lovely surprise?