At the Copacabana – Bolivia

By Alli Sinclair

I’ll admit it, I’m a sucker for pristine lakes with snow-capped peaks. Not only are they a photographer’s and hiker’s paradise, they bring a sense of peace to this chaotic world, especially after visiting some of South America’s busiest cities.

The first time I visited Lake Titicaca, I traveled from the Bolivian side. I’d journeyed from La Paz and was looking forward to finding solace from the horns, pollution, and swarming bodies of a busy city. Being the girly-swat that I am, I’d studied the history of the lake, pored over countless photos (no Internet back then), and created visions of this majestic lake in my mind. I’d imagined a stunning body of water but no matter how fruitful my imagination, I wasn’t prepared for the reality – Lake Titicaca rivaled some of the most beautiful lakes I’d ever seen (and that was saying a lot, especially after hiking through the Indian and Nepalese Himalayas).

Straddling the border of Bolivia and Peru, Lake Titicaca is the highest commercially navigable lake in the world and is rich in history, beauty, and politics. The name Titicaca translates as Puma Rock, a name given by the Incas who believed the lake looked like a puma chasing a rabbit.

Even though Bolivia is a land-locked country, the majority of the country’s naval force is based at Lake Titicaca. The navy employs 2,000 personnel, has a naval school, and they own 173 vessels that patrol large rivers as well as this gorgeous lake. Bolivians believe one day they’ll regain the land they lost to Chile during the War of the Pacific (1879-1884) and this hope is so strong Bolivians celebrate the Dia del Mar (Day of the Sea) every year and ask Chile to give back Bolivia’s lost land. Perhaps one day, they might get a yes.

Copacabana is a village on the shores of the lake and is close to the Peruvian border. Sure, it has a beach, but it isn’t quite in the same realm as Rio’s Copacabana – there are no men or women wearing swimmers that disappear up their bottom, no tanned athletic bodies, and certainly no surf. But this sleepy town has it’s own uniqueness, especially when it comes to dining. I’ve never been a fan of trout but when I tried the fish pulled out from the lake only a couple of hours earlier, I quickly became a convert.

It’s worth staying in Copacabana for at least a couple of days to hike the trails leading to mountaintops that offer unsurpassed views of the lake and Andes, as well as discovering Inca ruins that can only be accessed by foot. And a must-see is the Basilica of Our Lady Copacabana, the patron saint of Bolivia. It’s easy to overdose on beautiful churches in Latin America so if you only intend to visit a handful, put this one up the top of the list.

Framed by bright blue skies, the whitewashed walls of the church make a spectacular entrance into this gorgeous house of God. It is believed the church was built on the Incan Temple of Fertility of Kotakawana, reinforcing Copacabana as a sacred place well before the Spanish arrived.

Legend has it that in 1576 some fishermen were caught in a terrible storm on Lake Titicaca. They prayed for help and the Virgin Mary appeared, leading them to safety. To show their gratitude they built a shrine in her honor. Another story is about Tito Yupanqui, a man who dreamed about the sailors and the appearance of the Virgin Mary. He was so affected by the dream that he travelled to Potosi to learn how to sculpt. He hand-carved the Virgin from cactus wood and carried his creation on his back across the 400 miles from Potosi. The sculpture was placed in the church and it is said that those who didn’t believe in the Virgin’s powers soon experienced crop loss. In the 1800s, another image of the Virgin was created and taken to Brazil’s most famous beach – Copacabana.

If you happen to be in the neighborhood around February 2-5 (it happens every year), stay for the celebrations that attract people from all over the world. The Fiesta de la Virgen de Candelaria has Aymara dancers from the region, plenty of music played by traditional bands, and lots of dancing, drinking, and eating. New vehicles, including trucks adorned with bling, are blessed with beer out the front of the church. On the third day of the fiesta 100 bulls are placed in a stone corral and brave (ie very drunk) revelers jump into the arena and try to avoid being gored.

Luckily, I had enough sense to avoid the bulls, but being included by the locals and dancing the days away is an experience I’ll always treasure. It’s been ten years since my last trip to this beautiful lake and I’m well overdue for another visit. Perhaps 2013 will be the year of returning to my favorite places in the world. I guess I’d better buy that lottery ticket…

Off the Beaten Track: The Lost World of Archangels

This week’s Off the Beaten Track contributor is the wonderful Christina Ashcroft. Christina Ashcroft is an ex-pat Brit who now lives in Western Australia with her husband and three children. She is owned by three cats who graciously allow her the occasional spare moment to write hot paranormal romance for Penguin/Berkley Heat. Christina also writes hot historical romances as Christina Phillips for Berkley Heat and Ellora’s Cave.

Thank you Alli and the lovely ladies here at Novel Adventurers for allowing me to take over your blog today!

There are so many places in the world that I’d love to explore – the Pyramids of Egypt, the Roman Colosseum, the Mayan ruins in the Yucatan Peninsula to name just a few. History has always fascinated me and I get ridiculously excited when archaeologists unearth another long buried secret from ancient times.

I’ve also always been fascinated by the myths and legends of a lost continent. What’s not to love about the idea of an ancient civilization that we know next to nothing about? This fascination was fed more than twenty years ago when I read something that pointed to evidence that the pyramids and Sphinx are thousands of years older than we’ve been led to believe.

But is it just a myth? Is it possible that back in the mists of time there really was a technologically advanced civilization, one that could rival our own today, one that had studied the movement of the heavens for countless generations and possessed an understanding of mathematics that we’ve believed was only relatively recently acquired?

And if such a culturally rich civilization did once exist, what happened to it?

When my awesome editor encouraged me to write a new series about sinfully sexy archangels, I was thrilled. I’d had this Alpha Archangel lurking in the back of my mind for years, being all moody and smokily silent and I was dying to discover his secrets. It took a while, but eventually he opened up enough so I could learn of the world of his wild, untroubled youth.

And I discovered that he had lived and loved millennia ago, when a vast and technologically advanced civilization had flourished.

I was delighted that, at last, I would get the chance to explore this mythical world that had haunted my imagination for so many years. I discovered this advanced civilization was inhabited not only by human scholars and archangels but also gods and goddesses and their numerous offspring. But it was a civilization that, for all their great learning and understanding of the celestial cycle of the heavens, carried a devastating burden.

This world of the Archangel Gabriel, where he met and fell in love with his soul mate, vanished long ago. But to me it’s as real as the world I see when I look outside my window. I guess that might seem strange, but to me it’s perfectly normal. I’ve lived inside my imagination ever since I can remember, and sometimes I must admit it’s hard to leave (As my poor family will attest, I am ace at burning dinner because I forgot I put something in the oven!!)

So while I have yet to visit all the wonderful places in the world that are on my never-ending To Do list, the worlds I explore with the help of my muse keep me on my virtual toes. There’s no knowing where I might end up next, such as a decadent sex club in a dodgy sector of the Sextans Galaxy!!!

Archangel of Mercy is the first book in a new series of fallen Archangels and the women who capture their hearts, coming from Berkley Heat on 4th December.

Destined to fall… destined to love

When Aurora Robinson attempts to open a rift between dimensions to embrace her true heritage, an arrogant Archangel is the only one who can save her from the jaws of hell. And while she owes Gabriel her life, she’s determined not to fall at his feet-despite the desire she feels whenever they’re together.

After his wings were brutally destroyed millennia ago, Gabriel has no compassion for humans like those who ruined him and betrayed the ones he loved. But when he inexplicably finds himself defying ancient protocols to rescue a woman from a fate worse than death, he is shocked by the searing attraction he feels for a mortal.

As the ancient forces that seek to punish Aurora for her actions close in, Gabriel offers the tempting woman protection at his private sanctuary. But as they both succumb to their desires, they discover an even deeper connection-one that threatens to consume them.

You can find Christina and her books at:  Christina Ashcroft’s Website, The Book Depository, Barnes & Noble

Amazon, Twitter, Facebook

And now for the giveaway! I have an e-copy of my erotic paranormal romance, FORETASTE OF FOREVER (w/a Christina Phillips) and some gorgeous Archangel swag to giveaway to one lucky commenter. Just leave a comment or let me know what’s your favourite place in the world (or the universe!) and why?

The Archer Who Brought The Rain

Statue of Arash Kamangir,
Sa'ad Abad Palace, Tehran

According to ancient Persian legend, King Manuchehr of Iran and Afrasiab of Turan (which covered the territory of present-day Central Asia) waged a long and bitter war over the disputed border between their countries. The war raged on for many years without either side gaining an advantage until even the rain stopped falling and an eight-year drought ensued. Presumably the war angered Tishtar, the Zoroastrian angel in charge of rain and fertility, and he figured a good, long drought would bring the two embattled kings to their senses.

The angel was right (aren’t they always?), for eventually the two combatants decided to settle their differences once and for all. They found a brave archer named Arash Kamangir (literally: Arash the Arrow-Thrower), who was known for the lightning speed of his arrows. He was to go to the top of Mount Damavand in Iran’s Alborz Range, shoot an arrow to the east, and wherever the arrow landed would be the new border between the two countries.

Arash climbed the mountain and remained under the stars all night, praying to the god, Ahura Mazda, to give him strength. When dawn crept over the land, he released his arrow, putting all his vigor into the effort so that afterwards he lay down and died. The arrow flew for thirteen days and finally landed on the bank of the Oxus River, which is known today as the Amu Darya, the longest river in Central Asia. As soon as the new border between Iran and Turan was established, the rain began, bringing peace and prosperity to the whole region.

Arash Kamangir is one of the most popular heroes in Persian folklore. Iranian children learn about him from a story in the Shahnameh by the 11^th-century Persian poet, Ferdowsi, and an account can also be found in the Zoroastrian holy book, Avesta. Some Iranians today—mainly in the northern province of Mazandaran (believed to be Arash’s birthplace)—still celebrate his remarkable feat with a rain festival known as Tiregan. It falls on the thirteenth day of the Iranian month of Tir (one of the names of the angel, Tishtar), around July 1 on the Gregorian calendar.

Many of the traditional rituals associated with Tiregan have to do with water. Children swim and splash about in streams or, where no natural body of water is handy (and they can get away with it), run through fountains and man-made pools. In Iran, where the old Zoroastrian belief in the sacred power of water still can be felt, fountains and reflecting pools are found in nearly every public space.

Three days before the festival, people perform a rite known as chokadula, where each member of a family places a precious object in a clay pot, usually gold coins and rings or objects made of iron such as keys and locks. They fill the pot with water, tie a cloth over the top, and place it under a pomegranate tree. On Tiregan, they remove the pot, and each person pulls out his or her artifact while the family elders sing or recite a poem. Then they interpret the poem to see what the future will hold.

In another ritual, people take strips of cloth in seven different colors and twist them into bracelets, which they wear for nine days. On the tenth day, they remove the bracelets and toss them into running streams in a symbolic act of casting out bad luck.

A third custom is to hide bowls of water behind walls or on balconies and pour them over the heads of people passing in the street below. This may seem like a nasty, practical joke, but when you consider that summer temperatures in Iran can reach 100 degrees or more, it probably feels like the rains returning after a long drought.

Many of these traditional rituals have been lost over time, and Tiregan is not widely practiced in Iran anymore. A pity, for who can resist a celebration that involves splashing about in cool water on a hot summer day?

Off The Beaten Track: Searching for Dracula In Transylvania

Our guest this week is Alina Barbu, a radio journalist in Bucharest, Romania. She is a contributor to www.suite101.com and a reporter for Carpatair Airlines in-flight magazine. She’s also a passionate gourmand and traveler.

I've been thinking lately about the tremendous success of the Twilight Saga (novels and movies) around the world and how quickly vampires, legends, and stories about the immortals of the dark captured our attention. As far as I remember, the Breaking Dawn book mentions a Romanian vampire, and I was not surprised reading that  because Romania, especially Transylvania, has been the cradle of vampires in the imagination of many writers. Romania has an old lore about those who rise nightly from the grave to drink the blood of the living. This might be one of the reasons Bram Stoker chose the Carpathian Mountains as the setting for his famous Dracula novel.

Count Dracula was inspired by one well-known historical figure from Romania, Vlad Dracula, nicknamed Vlad the Impaler, who ruled Walachia (a province that later united with Moldovia to form the Romanian principalities) between 1456 and 1462. While the character in the book is based entirely on the author's imagination, the facts about Dracula, including how he meets his end, are based on popular beliefs about the existence of evil forces, widely accepted by locals. The fame of vampires attracts travelers from around the world, who come to Transylvania in search of Dracula myth, expecting perhaps to find the locals terrified by the bloody count. They might be disappointed because they will not find grim crypts, werewolves, or ghosts. Instead, they can discover where the legends started and who the real person was that stood behind the myth that inspired Bram Stoker.

One of my foreign friends, excited about legends, asked me while visiting Romania,“Where should I go if I want to feel Dracula’s spirit?” Well, my friend, it depends on what you want to discover: the legendary places behind a famous novel or the true stories linked to a historic ruler?

Bran Castle (Photo by E rulez)

If you are planning a journey to Romania to retrace the footsteps of Dracula, it should start at Bran Castle, dubbed Dracula’s Castle three decades ago by the American tourists who came in search of horror film atmosphere. Standing at the entrance gates of Transylvania, this castle resembles the one described by Stoker’s novel.

Visitors, though, do not make a distinction between the story behind the character of the novel and the legends about Vlad Tepes, also know as Vlad the Impaler. The legends show him as a ruthless ruler who required honesty and diligence from his subjects and harshly punished theft, laziness, and cunning by impaling them. Each year, crowds of tourists gather at Bran Castle and follow their guides in the spooky narrow stone staircases, the dark rooms, and the massive dungeon, as they listen to the old legends.

Bran Castle at night
(Photo by Julian Nitzsche)

The end of November is one of the better times of year to visit Transylvania. On the night of the 29th of November, the towns celebrates not just Saint Andrew, the Christian apostle, but also an ancient god whose name is lost to history but who was venerated by the people who lived in Dacia, a country under the Roman Empire. Those who live in the villages still keep alive the centuries-old traditions.  You’ll have the chance to see garlic ropes hanging on front doors and housewives turning cups and pots upside down to scare evil spirits away.

There is also a belief that, on this particular night, that one can discover a criminal or a thief in their midst. A magical ritual takes place in the cemetery at midnight, using candles, holy water, a jar, and some silver coins, which are placed over an old grave. Legend has it that after the practitioner utters certain prayers, he can see the mysterious events and their main characters in the candlelight.

Poenari Fortress (Photo by L.Kenzel)

If you follow Vlad the Impaler’s footsteps, you would reach Poenari Fortress, hidden in the Carpathian Mountains, about 200 km (124 miles) from Bucharest. Not many people know about these old ruins that stand high on a cliff overlooking the Arges River, but it’s worth the visit. Legend has it that when the army of the Ottoman Empire attacked and captured this castle in 1462, Vlad the Impaler escaped via a secret passageway leading north through the mountains.

Sighisoara, the birthplace of Vlad the Impaler

In my opinion, you should begin your journey in the medieval town of Sighisoara, right in the heart of Transylvania, where Vlad Dracula was born in 1431. The home of his birth still stands there but now hosts an antique-style restaurant. It’s worth seeing. The building is unique and hosts some beautiful sixth-century frescoes. Tourists can have lunch or dinner here, tasting traditional Romanian dishes and the local booze, palinca. Sighisoara is a popular spot for tourists searching for Halloween fun, because local amateur actors reenact a witch trial.

The Bistrita region as seen from Borgo Pass

If you’re interested in Dracula, the character, you should keep the best for the last part of your tour: Bistrita and the Borgo Pass. Bram Stoker mentioned both places in his novel, but they have no direct connection to Vlad the Impaler. Bistrita was the first stop of Stoker’s protagonist, young Jonathan Harker, in Transylvania. Harker is an English  solicitor, traveling to Transylvania to provide legal support to Dracula for a real estate transaction. He spends a night at the Golden Krone Hotel, and even though the place didn’t exist at the time Stoker wrote his novel, a hotel with the same name cropped up later for tourists visiting the town. Don’t expect much because Bistrita has a rural landscape and few medieval attractions to visit. It can be a good stop-over, though, on your way to the Borgo Pass (Tihuta Pass), which became famous worldwide after Dracula was first published in 1897. 

Borgo Pass, also known as Tihuta Pass
(Photo by Vberger)

The pass is 3,840 feet high and gives visitors a breathtaking view of the region. Many people say they find the most beautiful landscapes of the Carpathians here: on one side, valleys with green meadows, and on the other, dense pine forests. Even for those who aren’t passionate about the Dracula story, Tihuta Pass can be a delight. The villages around are an opportunity to discover local traditions, customs, and folklore.

Prepare yourself for a whole week of adventures if you wish to see all these sites and spend some time exploring the local treasures. However, don’t limit your trip to Transylvania to find Dracula. You should include a stop to Bucharest to see other places where Vlad the Impaler lived and ruled the country. In fact, his name is linked to the city’s official certification by an official act signed in 1459. In the Old City Center, tourists will find the ruins of the Old Princely Court, built by Vlad the Impaler. Legend has it that he held his prisoners in massive dungeons under the  city. You can visit the ruler’s own grave at Snagov Monastery, 25 miles north of Bucharest. The monastery is located on an island on the far side of Snagov Lake and can only be accessed by boat.

The Ballade of Oleg The Seer

Once upon a time in the 10^th century there was Oleg the Seer, also known as Oleg the Wise or Oleg of Novgorod. A semi-legendary warrior, he was considered to be the founder of the Kievan Rus’ state, which later became Russia. Originally a Viking leader, he united the local Slavic and Finnish tribes under his rule and moved the capital of Rus’ from Novgorod the Great to Kiev. That move was strategic: Kiev’s location allowed launching attacks to the East. Oleg proved to be a great and nearly invincible military commander: he fought the Khazar tribes who often raided the border villages of the young Rus’ and waged war on the Byzantine Empire, aiming at no less than Constantinople, which in Russian was called Tsargrad – The Tsar’s City. Oleg fixed his shield to the gate of the Tsargrad to symbolize his victory.

 

Oleg’s uncanny abilities earned him the title of The Seer. As the legend goes, the Byzantines attempted to poison Oleg, but thanks to his oracular powers, he sensed the betrayal and refused to drink the cup of poisoned wine. Still, like every mortal, he feared death and asked a prophet to foretell his destiny. A warrior, Oleg was prepared to meet his noble end from a sword, yet the pagan oracle prophesized him a death much more mysterious than that.

Inspired by this old legend, the famous Russian poet, Alexander Pushkin, wrote The Ballade of Oleg the Seer, much quoted to this day.  Oleg the Seer has also been one of the emost painted Russian historical characters.

 

“Oleg, the wise Prince, roused to arm,
Cried: ‘Vengeance on the ruthless horde
Of raiding Khazars! Field and farm
My men shall put to fire and sword!'
And when his faithful horse was brought,
He rode out with his knights and men,
In damascened gold armour, wrought,
By some deviceful Saracen."

On the way to his battle, Oleg came across an old prophet white from age, and asked him,

 

“'What woe or weal shall me betide?
How soon shall I, beneath the sods,
Lie buried, while my foes rejoice?
Fear naught; nor speak with faltering words.'”

The man predicted Oleg’s many victories. He promised that his lucky fate will shield him in battles for years. Yet the betrayal would come from someone very dear.

 

"'Thy horse, that dreads no furious fray,
Hath borne thee well in many lands;
And like a rock amid the spray
Among the whistling shafts he stands,
Or bears thee through the brunt of spears,
Obedient to thy lightest breath:
Nor frost, nor fight, with thee he fears:
Yet even he shall be thy death.'"

Determined to win the ultimate battle with his destiny, Oleg held his grief and parted with his steed.

 

"The brave prince beard the strange discourse,
With smiling lips, but gloomy brow:
Then, sadly, lighting from his horse,
He spake: 'And must we two part now?'"

Years had passed. One day, as Oleg and his friends recalled their many crusades, he asked about his horse and was shocked to hear the answer.

“'One answered: By the river-shore,
On a high hill-top, sound asleep
He lies; and will awake no more.'

Musing, Oleg bent low his head,
Remembering the days of old;
And sadly to himself he said:
“'Had I not feared the doom foretold
By that old fashioner of lies,
My old friend had been with me still!'”
And then he bade his lords arise;
And seek with him the burial hill."

Escorted by his retinue, Oleg found his steed’s bones and gently touched its white skull as he spoke to his departed friend.

 

"With gentle foot, and bowed with grief,
Touching the skull, Oleg then said:
'Sleep well, my friend! Our day is brief;
Though I live; thou art with the dead:
Nor, at my funeral feast, full nigh,
Sword-spilt shall thy warm life-blood fall
Upon me dead, when even I
Drop to the dust that ends us all.'

And, even as these words he spake,
From out the eyeless skull there shot
A ribbon-like black deadly snake,
Which stung his foot. “'Is this my lot
By that old wizard prophesied?
Death ambushed in a lifeless bone!
Then, welcome death!' the brave Prince cried:
And sank to earth without a moan."

And thus, many Russians firmly believe one cannot escape his destiny. Do you?

Battle of the Gods

The head of an asura outside a
monastery entrance in Angkor,
Cambodia. (Photo by yarowind)

According to Indian lore, devas and asuras were divine entities, basically gods, but the kind that fought wars and spent precious time and energy keeping each other at bay. The devas were the good guys, and the asuras the baddies. 

But if you go back, way back, to the earliest Indo-Iranian texts, there was a time when the asuras were on par with the devas. The devas supposedly ruled the natural world, the asuras the moral and social one. Somewhere along the way, as the texts evolved and new ones sprung up, the asuras became the villains. According to Hindu myths, they were wicked and materialistic. In Buddhism, asuras were said to lack self control and let their passions (wrath, pride, aggression) get the best of them.

These aren’t easy myths to reconcile, for the asuras are still considered deities in the Hindu pantheon, highly revering certain ones, including Agni (god of fire) and Rudra (god of wind). While King Indra ruled the devas, Varuna, the god of water, presided over the asuras, and the two were powerful rivals. (Think of Indra as the Hindu counterpart to Zeus in Greek mythology.) Both Indra and Varuna were thought to rule the sky and earth, but they represented opposing interests.

Researchers over the past few hundred years, and as recently as a decade ago, have made some startling discoveries about these legends. The ancient epic Hindu poem, Rig Veda, refers to Indra carrying his people across many rivers and lands to reach what is now Punjab in Pakistan and India, eastern Afghanistan, and the Upper Indus Valley. In recent years, archaeologists discovered that the forefathers of Indo-Aryans hail from a place in Central Asia, specifically in Turkmenistan. Russian and Turkmen archaeologists have dug up impressive artifacts from a civilization the original Aryans, including the devas and asuras, hailed from. Among the important finds: horse-drawn chariots with spoked wheels, fire altars, sunken bowls with traces of an ancient drink known as soma that’s mentioned in the Vedas, as well as remnants of horse sacrifices.

Archaeologists believe the Indo-Iranians first arrived at this spot in Turkmenistan around 4,000 years ago, drawn there because of the existence of an oasis. They left some time later, as major climactic shifts began to take place and the fertile delta they relied on dried up. Presumably that's what the Vedas refer to, about some among them moving east (towards modern-day Pakistan and India) and others moving west (Afghanistan and Iran). Many different communities evolved out of these migrations, each one putting down roots in the rich, fertile valleys and lands between Central and South Asia.

It’s impossible to say which of the civilizations from the various groups that migrated away are still buried and waiting for us to discover. But we do know these original Indo-Iranians (Aryans), wherever they went, took the concepts of the fire god and the stories of the asuras and devas with them. 

 Ahura Mazda is often depicted in ancient art as
performing the crowning ceremonies of kings, to show
both the divine blessing of the ascension and god’s
protection of the king. In this relief at Taq-e-Bostan,
Ahura Mazda crowns Khosrow II (at center), with
the goddess Anahita at left. Anahita’s name derives from
the old Indo-Iranian word for the goddess Harahvati (Persian)
and Saraswati (Sanskrit). (Photo by Philippe Chavin)

Only thing is, the legend of the devas and the asuras evolved much differently among the Persians than the Hindus. 

In the Gathas, the earliest Zoroastrian hymns, ahuras were followers of asha (truth) and daevas of druj (falsehood). Ahura being the Persian form of the Sanskrit word asura, Varuna became Ahura Mazda. Curiously, while Ahura means "truth," Mazda means “other.” Both cultures still consider fire and water as the main ritual agents of purity.

According to the Persian texts, the two factions had vast differences of outlook and perspective right from the get-go, the chasm between them perhaps widening to such an extent that the two groups eventually went their separate ways. There’s no mention of any specific wars or battles as in the Vedic version, but eventually, the daevas came to be understood as malign creatures (not even deities).

The Indian and Persian legends share many similar concepts though--manu as man, Saraswati or Harahvati as both a river and a goddess, soma or haoma as a sacred plant, yajna or yasna as worship and sacrifice, and so on. Both scriptures, the Hindu Vedas and the Zoroastrian Avesta, retell a few of the same myths and legends, though from differing points of view. In the Vedic version, Varuna and Indra agree to cooperate at the dawn of each new year to reestablish order. In the Persian legend, daevas were originally not considered hostile (they are in later versions) but rather only following a false path and possibly the wrong gods.

There are many more such fascinating intersections. According to author Michael Wood in his landmark documentary, The Story of India, and book by the same name: “The big picture…is that the ancestors of Aryans were part of a huge language group who spread out from the area between the Caspian and Aral seas 4,000 years ago, and whose language lies at the root of modern European languages, including English, Welsh, Gaelic, Latin and Greek, but also Persian and the main modern north Indian language.” (Check out Michael Wood’s work for many more such amazing discoveries.)

Wood makes a point about these remarkable legends that the following photo also illustrates.

In the Bangkok airport, a sculpture shows the asuras using Naga Vasuki,
the king of the serpents, to churn an ocean of milk along with the
devas (not shown) to extract ambrosia. According to Hindu mythology, and later Chinese and
Japanese mythology as well, Vasuki was one of eight great Naga kings.
(Photo by Sailko)

For generations, we may have considered these legends as merely old stories but as time goes on, we find that they are grounded in quite a bit of historical fact. And how powerful these two entirely separate belief systems are that they continue to thrive today, both rooted from ancient traditions that have influenced so many others. Doesn't it boggle the mind to see how interconnected we all are?

Creating a New World

The Sol de Mayo found on the first Argentine coin. Photo by Pruxo

Being the geeky gal that I am, this week’s topic sent me all aflutter. I’ve always been fascinated with legends from around the world, and I don’t think anyone would be astounded if I said some of my favorites are from South America. So much so, I wrote an entire book based around a particular civilization steeped in legend—the Incas.

It’s interesting to see how folklore hundreds of years old can influence today’s culture throughout South America. For example, the Argentine national flag features the Sun of May. Argentina printed the sun on its first coin, but the origins of this image are tied to the Inca Sun God, Inti. And it’s no surprise to see Uruguay, Argentina’s neighbor, has the Sun of May on its national flag also.

The Incas didn’t have a written system as we know it to record their legends. However, they used a Khipu, a bunch of cords, sometimes up to 2,000, that were knotted in a certain way. This complex system was how the Incas recorded information, including legends. Unfortunately, no one has been able to decipher the encoding system yet, so the only history we know is the recounts of the Spanish conquistadors. But of course, the Spanish colonizers wrote these from their point of view.

For me, one of the most appealing Inca legends is how their civilization was created. There are many variations of this story, but they all start at Lake Titicaca, the highest navigable lake in the world. Standing on the shores, it’s impossible to see the other side, and it really does look like a sea (minus the toothy sharks). It’s no wonder Bolivia, a landlocked country, has its own navy to patrol the very choppy and chilly waters. And it’s from this body of water that Wiraqocha, the Creator God, shaped the race we refer to as the Incas.

Manco Capac and Inti

Back in the time before light existed, Wiraqocha formed a race of people bigger than himself. These giants turned into greedy beings full of pride and made him weep with sadness. Wiraqocha turned some of these disappointing creatures into stone and for those who remained, he summoned a giant flood that killed all but two. He created a new design of being from these leftover giants--humans.

The newly-fashioned creations were called Manco Capac (the son of the Sun God Inti), and Mama Occlo (fertility goddess and mother). These two summoned the sun and the moon, although the sun became jealous of the moon’s brilliance. In an act of jealousy, the sun threw ashes in the moon’s face, causing it to dim, and the waxing and waning moon we now see is a result of this act. If you ever travel to Lake Titicaca, be sure to visit the islands that pay homage to this legend—the islands of the Sun and Moon.

Wiraqocha needed a master plan for his new world, especially after the disaster with the giants, so on the shores of the lake, at a place called Tiwanaku, he carved out his ideas for the nations he wished to create. He sent two of his servants away, one to the coast and one to the mountains, and their job was to call the newly created humans out from rocky outcrops, valleys, lakes, forests and mountains. Along the way, the servants would place these people at the predetermined destinations Wiraqocha had designated for them. And new civilizations would spring up in each spot.

Travelling in the corridor between his servants, Wiraqocha dressed as a beggar and carried a staff and book in his hands. He taught the people the basics of how to survive and what behavior was expected of them, and along the way he worked the odd miracle.

He placed Manco Capac and Mama Occlo, in the place we call Cuzco (and which is also referred to as the Navel of the Incas), and their job was to make sure Cuzco became the capital of the Inca world. Wiraqocha continued on his way north, heading into what is now Ecuador, where he met up with his two servants. Their job of spreading civilization complete, the trio disappeared across the ocean (yes, they walked on it!), with the promise to one day return.

It’s interesting to note the parallels to legends and stories around the world. I can’t work out how this happens, and perhaps no one will ever know, but when I read about a myth like the one Heidi covered yesterday (here), and how similar it is to legends I’ve heard from other nations, it makes me wonder if there’s some sort of telepathic mystical thing going on or if humans have been born with the same imagination, no matter where they live in the world or in what era.

What myths do you know that have similarities between more than one civilization?

Artwork found by archaeologists of Wiraqocha--as he holds thunderbolts in his hands and has tears cascading down his cheeks (to represent rain)—associates him with the sun in his crown.

Wounded Mountain, Broken Hearts

Photo by Ali Esfandiari

In the foothills of the Zagros Mountains, not far from the western Iranian city of Kermanshah, there stands a mountain with an ugly gash across its face. It looks like a giant tried to strip away the rocky cliff’s very skin and left a ragged wound behind.

This wounded mountain is known as Bisotun, and it draws visitors from far and wide to view ancient carvings depicting the lives and conflicts of ancient Persia’s Achaemenian kings. But the wide slash in the rock, located to one side of the Achaemenian carvings, has its own story to tell—a tale of star-crossed lovers whose lives ended in tragedy, much like Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet.

According to legend, Farhad was a stonecutter who fell in love with a beautiful princess named Shireen. Knowing the lady would never notice a man of such lowly birth, Farhad went into the mountains where he spent long days without food, playing haunting melodies on his flute to express his love for her. Eventually, strains of Farhad’s music reached the princess’s ears, and she went looking for the man who could produce such ethereal sounds. On finding him, love sparked in her own heart and Shireen vowed she would marry Farhad.

Shireen’s father, always a practical man, knew this was not to be. How could a high-born princess marry a lowly stonecutter? But the king also could never refuse his daughter the slightest desire, so he came up with a plan. He would allow Farhad and Shireen to marry, but only on one condition: The stonecutter would have to break open Mount Bisotun and find water. Then he was to dig a trench six lances wide, three lances deep, and forty miles long to direct the flow to the king’s castle on the dry plain below the mountain.

The king figured that the task was too enormous for any man to accomplish and Farhad would abandon the effort in frustration. Problem solved. But His Highness hadn’t counted on the stonecutter’s blind determination, or the power of love.

It took many years of back-breaking work, but the gash on the mountain grew deeper and wider. Farhad toiled from dawn till dusk, sleeping on the mountain under the stars with the rocks as his bed and his spade for a pillow. As the king watched the work progress, he knew he’d have to come up with Plan B. So he sent a messenger to the mountaintop to tell the stonecutter that the princess was dead.

In his grief, Farhad struck himself on the head with the spade and fell dead to the ground, his blood flowing into the half-built channel. When Shireen heard of her lover’s death, she rushed up to the mountain, seized the deadly spade and killed herself with it over her lover’s still body.

Like any good legend, this one has many different versions. Sometimes the king is Shireen’s father, other times he’s her jealous husband determined to destroy the rival for his queen’s affections. In one story, Shireen herself sets Farhad to work digging a ditch to a dairy farm many miles away so that milk can flow directly from the royal cows to her castle’s kitchen. (Obviously this princess understands little about how cows are milked.)

They say that at the heart of any legend lies a seed of truth. When I visited Bisotun on a sweltering summer day a few years ago, it was easy to believe that these sad events had unfolded just as the legend says. I could spot marks in the ragged gash that scarred the mountainside, scars that looked like they could have been left by a stonecutter’s tools. Great angular boulders lay scattered about the dusty hill where I stood, as though they’d been left there long before, perhaps during Farhad’s labors. And on the wide plain far below lay the ruins of an ancient structure: the castle where Shireen and her father had lived?

I’m a sucker for a happy ending. But sometimes it’s the tragic ones that linger in my mind.