There is an adorable, spunky 3-year-old at our hostel named Luis, who is the son of the owners. So far about half my pictures are either of Luis or taken by Luis (he’s gotten some pretty nice artsy shots). Luis has proven himself to be quality entertainment for the whole group. My favorite Luis moment: After I gave him a little fish stuffed animal, he put it on the table, used two pens to imitate a cutting motion with a knife and fork, and said to the fish, “Ciao, muerto.” I’m not sure exactly how to translate this, but it literally means “Goodbye, dead thing.”
We were broken up into groups of three and sent on missions to different markets to buy different food items in order to prepare a dish for dinner. My group had to buy all the grains we could find in the Ollantaytambo market. We decided to use the trigo (wheat cereal) for cooking, and got a soup recipe from a 12-year-old girl we ran into on the playground, who said she cooks all the time at home. We paid her 1 sol for her service. The soup actually turned out to be really good.
I bought a bag from a vendor in the plaza because I had been looking for a new purse. After scoping out four different stands, I realized that all the vendors sell the exact same things. Same styles, same colors, same everything. And all of them will tell you their products are hand-made. Some will even tell you how long it took them to make the item, personally, if you ask. I am still in doubt as to whether my bag was even hand-made at all. But it’s made of alpaca wool and has a llama on it, so no one will ever know.
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