Cultural Oddities

Moving in with a host family for a few weeks naturally comes with the expectation that there will be cultural differences to which one will have to adapt.  That´s part of the fun in visiting a new place.  After about two and a half weeks here, I think it is about time to highlight some of those differences.  This is not about deep-rooted cultural differences that may manifest themselves in the way a nation is run or the collective world view a population takes.  Rather this is about the even more important differences that become woven into daily life.

Public Transportation:
You know when you are on the highway and you see some guy on a motorcycle zip in between SUVs and 18-wheelers, and you think how that guy shouldn´t be allowed to have a license?  Now imagine that the SUVs and 18-wheelers are buses and vans, and the road is full of countless motorcycle drivers doing this.  But the motorcycles are actually hatchback Daewoo sedans from the past century.  Welcome to the fast and furious streets of Cusco.

Public transportation in Cusco takes two classic forms: taxis and buses (which are often vans).  Taxis in Cusco do not have meters, or set rates, or coordinated signage or colors.  Instead, if you want a cab, you stand on the street corner and wave at any four-door sedan that looks like it was built between 1985 and 1995.  If you see this: http://www.delange.org/CuscoToPuno/Dsc01131.jpg then you´ve found a winner.  It is a safe bet that at least 90% of that model of Daewoo hatchback is currently in use as a Peruvian cab.  Since there are no meters or set rates, the next step is to haggle a price for where you want to go.  If you get in without settling on a price, you are going to get hosed at the end.

The buses are the main transportation method, and can take the form of an actual bus or a converted van.  There are set bus lines, but it´s not you would expect.  A few of the bus lines have names that suggest where they head, but there are also quite a few whose names give less guidance: the ¨Zorro¨ bus line and the ¨Batman¨ bus line.  Every bus is operated by two people.  One drives and the other collects money and leans out the door yelling to people where that particular bus would take them.  Now with each passenger paying the equivalent of less than 50 cents U.S. and gas incredibly expensive, the buses rely primarily on their ability to move as many people as possible in order to make a profit.  Combine this with little-to-no traffic laws nor public transportation safety regulations and you can expect a 16-passenger van to hold 30 people.  If it is scientifically possible to fit another human being into a space on a bus, during rush hour, it will be done.  Sometimes the door cannot even be shut.

The craziest thing about Cusco traffic, however, is that I still have yet to see a single wreck.

Music:
Music in this city is ever-present.  From the background music in a store to the guy on the bus who thinks it´s appropriate to play the music on his phone without headphones, Peruanos love their music.  I´ve realized that the songs you hear can be overly simplified into three categories, not necessarily proportionate in their frequency:  (1) Peruvian pop music; (2) shameful American top-40 hits; and (3) Foster the People.

As open-minded as I attempt to be about music, Peruvian pop music is pretty inexplicably bad.  Most songs center around an overly simplistic and repetitious melody played on what could best be described as an electronic synthesized harpsichord while a man casually talks.  Often this man is accompanied by a female singer/speaker, and the pair alternates listing random locations in Peru.  One popular version actually includes a collection of the 50 states: ¨Nueva York, West Virginia, Washington . . . .¨

The second category comprises some of our proudest musical ambassadors, such as the Black Eyed Peas and Pitbull.  Not knowing Peru´s passion and love for the Black Eyed Peas, when I was asked by a class on the first day of school whether I liked them, I very adamantly said no.  In hindsight, that was probably a pretty crushing blow to the class´s morale.  It also would explain why they gave me the ¨you just said you hate puppies¨ kind of stare afterward.  Surprisingly, this category is also heavily populated with 1990s, female, alternative rock classics.  If 4 Non Blondes opened for Alanis Morissette, the line out the stadium and around the block would be fanatical.

Foster the People comprises a smaller, but distinguishable category in and of themselves.  I think they deserve not to be lumped in the same category as Pitbull.

Dogs:
The last thing I will mention today are the dogs.  I have mentioned previously about the sheer number of stray dogs in Cusco, but I think it deserves a few more comments.  Even with the large number of stray dogs, many families still have pet dogs that run the streets during the day with the strays.  The easiest way to identify a pet from a stray is to look for a sweater.  Many of the families put doggy sweaters on their pets.

For the most part, the dogs mind their own business and do not seem too unfriendly.  There are a few exceptions however.  The first is my family´s dog, Rabito.  Coming in at an intimidating 15 to 20 pounds, it might be the meanest dog in the city.  It hates me with an innate passion and follows me down our alley barking every day.  His Napoleon complex´s ferocity is pretty impressive, even if his bark isn´t.  The other exception varies from night to night and takes the form of three, 50 pound stray black dogs that also live in my alley.  Sometimes when I come home at night, they will lie peacefully on the ground, other times, they will try to corner me and block the alley, snarling and barking until someone from one of the houses comes out to run them off.  I´ve actually checked a couple of grocery stores for dog treats, hoping that I could use them to build some goodwill with Rabito and the other three, but have yet to find any.  The final exception is when you attempt to go on a jog.  After waiting a week to acclimate, I finally tried to go on a run a few days ago.  It didn´t go very well.  I tried running through the fields up the hill from my house, but the moment I accelerated from a walk to a jog, seemingly every stray dog in the area went crazy.  About four or five of them tried to chase me through one of the recently harvested corn fields, until I jumped about 5 feet down an embankment, leaving the dogs stranded and barking at the top.

These are just a few of the everyday things that come with being in Cusco.  I´m sure I´ll have a list of a few more in a couple more weeks, including how food and beverage are not contemporaneously served during a meal.  Most of the time these things provide a pretty comical touch to the experience of being down here—even when that means being in a small van with 25 other people, while ¨You Oughta Know¨ is blaring on the radio.

-Scott