Days 53, 54, 55, 56, 57, 58: A tale of good and evil

Day 53

Today my paternal grandfather Simon (Simey) Dobias passed away, or as he was always known to his grandchildren, ´Poppa´. We were fortunate enough to live so close to Poppa when growing up that we saw him more as a second father than a grandparent and consequently his death has left us utterly distraught. Poppa was unfortunate enough to be born a Jew in Poland in 1924. With the outbreak of war he saw his father shot in front of him by the Nazis and every single relative (including his mother, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles and cousins) go to the gas chambers. Poppa himself survived many years in the concentration camps and after liberation in 1945 came to start a new life in England. Refusing thenceforth ever to talk of his experiences in the camps, Poppa dedicated himself to creating a family and continuing with a life that the Nazis had tried so hard to exterminate. He remains an utter inspiration to me. To carry on living throughout all those years of hell is achievement enough, but then to bring good to a world that had showed him so much evil was nothing short of a miracle. I will never stop missing him.

In one of life´s tragic incongruities, I passed the morning of his passing away in rather high spirits. Oblivious to the emails in my inbox informing me of Poppa´s death, I headed from my overnight bus to the local synagogue to buy myself a ticket for the following night´s Passover dinner. This was however no ordinary synagogue, but rather a Chabad Lubavitch one. In brief, Chabad are a sort of missionary organisation dedicated to bringing lapsed Jews like myself back into the fold. Entering the building I was immediately given a bowl of chickpeas to peel. As I sat peeling there I kept on asking whether I could buy a ticket. Eventually a guy came over and before I could speak asked me whether I had ever worn tefillin (Jewish prayer clothing). I told him no and immediately he whisked me upstairs and started wrapping them around me. A few enforced prayers later and he congratulates me on having ´finally´ had my bar mitzvah and calls all the building into the room to celebrate. I stood there while tonnes of Orthodox Jews danced all around me and finally only then would they let me buy a ticket.

It was then that I checked my inbox and I spent the remainder of the day inconsoleable.

Day 54

Cuzco is South America´s oldest inhabited city and was once the capital of the Inca empire (representing in their belief system the ´navel´of the world). Massive Inca-built walls continue to form the base of the city´s many colonial buildings and you can barely walk an inch without bumping into Cuzco´s amusing flag (it seems nobody told the Inca kings that the rainbow is also the international LGBT symbol!).

Such Inca-origins aside, you could barely hope for a more exciting place to spend Semana Santa (the Easter holy week). The citizens/police force/army were out in force all week polishing the stones and decorating everything with Easter cheer.

In 1650 a painting of Jesus on the cross was believed to save the town from the terrible destructive effect of a local earthquake. Since that date the indigenous local people have paid homage to the image of ´Taitacha Temblores´, a mixed Quechua and Spanish title meaning ´Lord of the Earthquakes´. On Easter Monday (today), a representation of this Jesus is paraded out from the town´s cathedral (built over the temple of the Inca creator god) and marched around the surrounding streets. The locals shower the statue with red flowers that grow in the local mountains which represent the blood of the Andean people. It may have been my fragile emotional state, but I was very moved by the whole ceremony.

  

The second main local Easter tradition expresses itself in the town´s food. Today I tried some sweet Easter empanadas (which tasted very similar to shortbread) . A little girl saw me eating this and ran up to ask for some. Her mother joined her and the three of us had a lovely conversation about the local religious beliefs.

That evening I scrubbed up and dug out my only shirt from deep within my bag for the Passover dinner. I was not in the mood for any frivolity, but I know my grandfather would have wanted me to go. For a Jew Passover holds the same family-based importance as Christmas and is a day not to be missed no matter how secular you are. I have spent every Passover of my life with my family and I was looking for an approximation of the same out here. In a quirky twist, it turned out that the Passover dinner in Cusco was the largest in the world with Jews from all over South America specially making their way to Cusco just for the event. There were 1,200 seats spread out on the grass of Cusco´s football stadium and enough security to launch a minor war. There were snipers on all the surrounding buildings, checkpoints, roadblocks and Mossad (Israel´s secret service) galore. Out of the 1,200 seats, 10 or so were set aside for Jews of non-Israeli origin and I went to join.

I ended up sitting with an entertainment lawyer from Hollywood (she knows Barbra Streisand), a journalist from New York Magazine, two web-designers, an archaeologist, a toxicologist from L´Óreal and a young couple who were volunteering their way around the world (12 months, 12 projects) - my what an accomplished crowd this was! The food was an amusing twist on Passover classics (e.g. instead of parsley, we had red onion and potatoes), but was well received. The service was nothing less than pandemonium though as everyone in the room came with their own family´s tunes to the songs and their own speed of reading Hebrew. As I had spent part of the last two days grieving for my grandfather in the synagogue I knew quite a number of the rabbis present and they very kindly kept coming over to ask how I was feeling.  

Day 55

Looking for distraction, I enrolled myself in 20 hours of Spanish classes over the next four days. Meeting my teacher Carina I discovered a fellow food-lover and we spent much of the day learning Spanish whilst walking around the San Pedro food market. The market was the size of an aircraft hanger and full of Peruvian classics.  

I could not have had a better guide to show me around and Carina suggested I try some Easter biscuity treats, prime amongst which was Maizilla (a cornflower based cookie).

She also introduced me to some local fruits. The one on the left is called a lúcuma and tastes just like a date, but with the texture of a sweet potato. The one on the right is called a chirimoya and tasted like the sweetest pear I´d ever had. I was a big fan.

For lunch I had the Cusco classic of ´Chicharron´, a dish of pork fried in a local spice mix. It was very salty and rather unkosher, but very addictive.

That evening with Tom I went to the language school´s weekly ´night out´ at a local Medieval themed restaurant where all the profits went to local charities. That night was pub quiz and bingo night. Naturally our team of four won (largely due to my knowledge of Glee I must boast) and we shared a bottle of wine. Note the obligatory Medieval themed hats below;

Day 56

Another morning of Spanish classes and another voyage through Peruvian cuisine with my teacher Carina. Today she introduced me to Picarrones a local doughnut made from sweet potatoe and pumpkin covered in orange flavoured honey;

And Carina pointed out the one fruit-juice stall where she could confidently say the owner regularly washes her hands;

Afterwards we went out to the ´robber´s market´ to buy various items I needed for the Inca trail. As Carina explained, the robbers market is where everything that is stolen or pickpocketed in the town in resold at bargain prices. She had twice been there to recover her phone once mugged. Carina is fast becoming indispensable. I guess this must be what it is like to have an personal assistant. More pertenently, I am also beginning to wonder whether Carina might accidently have become my girlfriend as I spend all day with her and pay for her lunch wherever we go. Here is a picture of the young couple;

That evening I decided to try my skills at another pub quiz. Unfortunately we lost this time.

Day 57

Today Carina revealed we had something special to look forward to. We grabbed a terrifying local minibus and ended up far from gringo-territory at a special Easter food fair. Much like the Good Food Show in England, this fair involved tens of stall holders selling their delicious wares. I went crazy and tried almost everything there.

To begin I had some ´Tiger Milk´, which is a drink containing the leftover juices from preparing ceviche (i.e. it is a glass of raw fish juice). Absolutely delicious!! I could drink gallons of this stuff. So salty and creamy and fantastic.

Then I had some ceviche proper. Fantastic once again.

 Then a glass of liquid chocolate

I can´t even remember what this was...

 The headmaster of a cooking school in Lima cooked me even more ceviche whilst teaching me (in English!) how to make it myself;

(The result) 

Then I had a mixture of even more ceviche, some stuffed peppers, some paella, a potato pie and some vegetable stuff.

Fearing for my health that night I decided to join a Spinning class in the local gym. Spinning is hard enough at sea level, but at Cusco´s altitude and heat it can be deadly. Thankfully I sat on a dud machine which only had one speed (easy), meaning that I lived to tell the tale.

Day 58

Today was the day of my grandfather´s funeral and today was also the day where the ´evil´ referred to in this blog made its entry. I will not broadcast the specifics on here, but, rather than respecting his memory and those he truly loved, a certain person who I shall never forgive decided to use the funeral to act in an utterly shameful and disgraceful manner.

Contrary to this person´s wishes though, her behaviour only serves to highlight the more through contrast the goodness of my grandfather and the love he bestowed on the family he fought so hard to create. I will never stop missing him.