Though I’d made an effort at washing off the mud from the trek, my shoes were still in a bad state after our hike. I rooted around my small rucksack where I kept a little coin purse with just enough money to see me through the day, and took out a five dollar bill. Immediately, the youth argued with me that he would need ten dollars to polish both my boots. I presumed he was going to barter so I told him I would pay six dollars maximum. To our surprise they appeared to suddenly lose interest, picked up their shoe-shine box and ran away. Just then Raúl arrived, all friendly smiles.
“We’ve been waiting here since six thirty,” I said, pointing to my watch.
His face turned crimson. “I’m so very sorry. I should have said seven thirty. A problem with translation. But listen, I make it up to you by getting you nice food for a picnic. What do you want? Fresh bread, cheese, plum tomatoes, ham, olives?” He looked at us expectantly. It was hard to be angry for any length of time with this good-humoured man. “You eat all this? Yes, with some fresh herbs and pastries? Yes?”
“Hey, I’m coming with you.” James stuffed his camera into a rucksack and handed it to me. “Mind this, Kate – a camera’s a liability in a market. I want to pick up some of that wonderful dried oregano. I’ll get you both some.”
They disappeared like a puff of wind into the van. Since it was such a beautiful morning, Maria and I decided to cross the street to the town plaza and pass the time sitting on one of the wooden benches watching the world go by. Puno definitely couldn’t compare with the colonial splendour of Cusco, but the plaza was pretty on a sunny morning. We sat back to witness preparations getting under way to celebrate a local fiesta, the place gradually getting busier as women in traditional costume passed by. The cooing of pigeons filled the air as a few men erected a stage several feet away, behind some trees. We paid no more attention to the numerous boys hanging around with their shoe-shine boxes.
“Aagh!” Maria screeched as something landed on her face. Large white daubs were hitting us both, spattering my pink cotton cardigan. “Damn pigeon poo.” But it was far too plentiful to be pigeon poo. Two boys with spray-paint guns were aiming straight at us. Suddenly, another boy grabbed James’s rucksack from beside me and ran. Leaping to my feet, I chased down a side-avenue after the boy, wiping the paint out of my eyes with my cardigan as I ran. Fired on adrenalin, I screamed “Stop thief!” to the almost deserted street. The boy, probably aged around fourteen, rounded a corner and I followed, finding myself out of breath in a shadowy alley with four youths walking menacingly towards me. I froze, aware that I could not escape as they circled me like vultures.
The tallest of them came closer to me, brandishing a flick knife. He was probably no more than fifteen but when someone holds a knife that close, they’ve all of a sudden become very powerful, no matter what their age. My Taekwondo skills were not up to scratch. Where was Raúl now that I needed him? He was supposed to be a Kung Fu master. The boy spoke – first in Spanish and then in accented English. “Empty your pockets, lady. Give me your watch and ring.”
Trembling and sick with fear, not knowing what else to do, I emptied my pockets which contained several crumpled tissues and a stick of chewing gum.
“Your watch and ring,” he ordered again. Seeing me hesitate, he repeated himself and came closer, seizing my hand roughly. My heart raced as terror coursed through my veins. I attempted to buy time – someone must have seen me chasing them, would come to help.
“They’re both fakes. Give me time. I’ve got a credit card back at the hotel. I can get some money for you at an ATM machine.”
“You think we fools, lady? Last time I ask. Give them to me.”
“Okay, okay!” Terrified for my life, I slid the watch off, followed by the ring.
“Leave her alone.” It was James’s voice, and in an instant they had pushed past me and then him, fleeing like a pack of hyenas. “Are you all right?” James was panting, concern in his eyes.
“They’ve taken your camera, I’m so sorry.” I was shaking. “And my watch. And my ring.”
He put his arm around me. “It’s me that should be sorry. Christ, I feel guilty for not being around.”
“No. Really, it’s fine.” Tears stung my eyes. “This would never have happened if Raúl had kept to his word. First he doesn’t show up, then after he arrives he disappears. Well, he’d better use all his tricks to find my jewellery …”
“What possessed you to run after the boy?”
“I don’t know, I just thought he’d panic and drop the bag. Really, I don’t know, James. These guys looked so innocent in the square – only children, really. A different story when you meet them in a deserted alley …”
“Your watch and ring were insured, right?”
“But they can never be replaced – especially David’s ring.”
“David’s ring?”
As we walked back in to the plaza, I spilled out my rambling thoughts between stifling sobs. “Trevor gave me the Rolex when Julie was born and the ring was to celebrate David’s birth.” I wept as James squeezed my hand in sympathy. “On my first Sunday home from hospital, Trevor called me after my mid-afternoon nap. I’ll never forget, he was holding David and had Julie by his side. She was so excited, she said, ‘Mummy the baby has a pressie for you in his handie.’ And then she jumped on to the bed beside me and opened David’s little fist to reveal the ring.” I drew in a shaky breath. “The gesture was so cute and so imaginative for Trevor. It was one of my most treasured possessions. How ironic that I should come on a spiritual journey and be robbed of the one possession I vowed I would be buried wearing. I regret coming to Peru now.”
“Kate, you don’t mean that. Maybe this is your personal challenge to overcome.”
“James, I’ve had enough personal challenges over the past couple of months to last me a lifetime.” As we rounded the corner, we found Maria and Raúl talking to two policemen, their postures erect in smartly-tailored dark uniforms. We could hear Raúl’s voice, “Ah … is terrible.” I was furious with him.
Maria, suddenly spotting me leaning on James’s shoulder for support, came running towards us. “Are you all right, Kate? I was so worried.”
“My watch and ring were taken along with James’s camera,” I announced loud enough for all to hear.
“Now we must all to go to the police to file a complaint,” Raúl said, leading us across the plaza towards the police station. Once there, a plump woman in police uniform handed us paper cups with coca tea, which I drunk gratefully –I had come to love the drink. Raúl translated questions between us and the police in the tiny grey-walled office. We were shown a series of mug shots, all young offenders. It was almost impossible to identify any of them for certain, since people of a different ethnic background tend to look alike in the eyes of tourists, unaccustomed to the subtle nuances we spot in our own race. Children’s faces are even more difficult since time has not yet weathered differences in their features. I could only be certain of the eldest one, as he had come close enough to threaten my very existence. I could never forget his menacing stare. But I certainly didn’t want to point the finger at an innocent boy. James and Maria said they recognised two of the shoe-shine boys, but I wasn’t sure about identifying them either as the ones with the plastic guns or as members of the gang in the alley. Raúl explained that the policeman was certain they were part of a group from Juliaca, a nearby town. From what they were saying, I realised that there was very little hope of retrieving either the camera or my watch and ring as all stolen goods were quickly passed on for sale on the black market. Most likely they would be sold over the border, into Bolivia. A black cloud enveloped me as I realised I might never again wear the ring that connected me to David. The thought of it being roughly passed around and ending up in the hands of someone oblivious to its sentimental value was soul-destroying.
“These boys were obviously watching you for a while to see what each one of you had in your bags. They knew exactly which bag to steal,” Raúl
translated after one of the policemen spoke in Spanish to us.
“That makes sense – my rucksack was very shabby in comparison to either of yours,” said James.
We left the police station and made our way slowly back to the hotel. The overcast sky now appeared menacing, the heat more humid and clingy than I’d previously found it in Peru. My mouth was dry and I felt quite nauseous. I felt driven to explore every avenue in the hope of getting back my ring. I would go to all the markets, bribe anyone in the hope of getting it back. I called Raúl over. “I’ve seen how people acknowledge you here on the street. You must have contacts. Surely you can ask around. I’ll even offer a reward. A finder’s fee to get my ring back.”
“It doesn’t work like this, my sister.” He squeezed his hands together, as if pleading with me to understand. “This older boy is from Juliaca, part of a gang like a local mafioso. They are not trusting of anyone. They will not take a reward. But I can bring you to the black market to buy a very good fake Rolex for thirty dollars.”
“Are you mad?” I stared at him in disbelief. “That won’t solve anything.”
“I can only tell you how sorry I am.”
“How do you know they won’t take a finder’s fee? If I offer five hundred dollars as a reward, that’s much more than they could make selling my watch and ring on the black market, right?”
Raúl alternated between screwing up his face and stretching his eyes open wide as if he was searching for the right words to convince me. “It does not work this way, my dear Kate. You have insurance, yes?”
“But the sentimental value …”
He placed an arm around my back. “I understand this is upsetting for you but James has also has lost something, his camera, and he accepts it.”
Immediately, I felt the tears flowing. “Oh James, I’m sorry, all your lovely Mayan photographs and all the food pictures…”
“Kate, don’t worry about that. It would be much worse if they’d cut your finger off to get the ring, because that can happen…”
“You’re right, I’m sorry, but I can’t help grieving… It was my precious link to David…”
As we arrived in the door of our hotel, Raúl said, “Why don’t we go on the journey we had planned for earlier today? It’s just one hour away. We can meditate and have a ceremony. Maybe something will happen during this time.” I didn’t know what he meant by this, but James and Maria agreed and so I reluctantly accepted the idea, despite feeling I’d rather storm the whole of Puno looking for my ring.
The three of us boarded the black van, and the shaman drove in silence. I was reminded of the Healer’s ashram as Loreena McKennitt’s soothing music played on the stereo – the Canadian singer was popular with “spiritual folk”. We passed men and women herding llamas, sheep and goats against a backdrop of mountains, some of which were curiously flat-topped. Finally, after driving up a steep pass, we got out to hike the remainder. It was an easy climb as the mountain was paved with wide evenly-paced steps.
“We are ascending.” Raúl was walking ahead of us, but half turned towards us, taking sideways steps, motioning his hands in the manner of an orchestra conductor. “As we ascend physically, our spirits find it easier to ascend.”
On the top of the mountain were pre-Incan burial chambers called chulpas. Made from large rocks like those we had previously seen in Machu Picchu, the stones once again slotted together without the use of mortar to form a cylindrical funerary tower on one side and a rectangular tower on the other. Each had an opening at ground level. All the openings faced east, Raúl told us, due to the belief that the sun is reborn by Mother Earth each day.
Raúl had spent some time in Asia studying martial arts and the Tao. He explained to us that by practicing very simple Qui Gong, we could channel energy and improve our health. I was familiar with this idea from attending Taekwondo classes where the instructor taught us a little about Qui Gong. As we stood on the top of the mountain, Raúl led us through some very basic exercises, while we breathed deeply and stood in an open stance with our weight evenly distributed on both legs. It was strangely relaxing yet empowering to do this on the top of a mountain. “These exercises will help you clear away all the negative energy of the day. Help to free you up and to allow great spirit work through you,” Raúl said.
Afterwards, he invited us to sit on one of the many large rocks littered around as he shook scented Peruvian flower water over each of us. Next, he talked us through a visualisation for meditation. Sitting there, with my eyes closed, simultaneously aware of the stunning view, I felt totally enraptured by nature. The warm breeze caressed my cheek, like a tender embrace from Pachamama herself. My upturned palms began to quiver, as though they were powered into a gentle current sending soothing waves throughout my body. Though I couldn’t understand what was happening, I relaxed into that lovely feeling. My heart was opening as though my chest was expanding – there was a sudden feeling of surrendering to a power so much greater than anything I’d ever dared imagine, let alone believe existed. I knew there and then that my capacity for love had no boundaries, that I was loved unconditionally, and that my spirit understood love. I was simultaneously the lover, the beloved and love itself. And I wanted everyone in the world to have the gift of feeling as I did in that moment.
When Raúl told us to start coming out from meditation, I didn’t want to. I wished to remain in that blissful state forever, there on that mountain forever. Of course that wasn’t possible. Looking across at James and Maria stretching their arms like newborn infants, it seemed they too had experienced what I had felt. Afterwards we picked cocoa leaves and as we blew on one each, we made an intention, like a wish, before placing it in the opening at the base of the circular burial chamber called a chulpa. My intention was that I would again experience that same sense of serenity whenever I most needed it.
We walked back to where the bus was and the shaman lifted our picnic basket out of the van, bringing it over to us as we sat on one of the wide steps nearby. Despite the trauma and gloom of the morning the atmosphere had changed between us to that of light gaiety. In the warm sunshine, as the basket was opened, the scents of home-grown oregano along with nectarines and mangoes filled our nostrils.
“Here you go. You must only eat peeled fruit in Peru.” Raúl placed an enormous peeled tomato on top of tin foil and began splitting an avocado. “You can spread this on your bread, then sprinkle herbs before adding some delicious tomato.” He was smacking his lips. We did just what he suggested, beginning with lashings of avocado, followed by fragrant oregano and succulent tomato. It tasted like the best recipe Larousse Gastronomique could ever produce. I felt that if I could condense the taste of Peru, I would bottle this simple combination. “Kate, thanks for trying to save my camera. I feel guilty about what ended up happening to you,” said James, as we sat on a step near the bus enjoying the remainder of our picnic.
“Oh God, don’t feel guilty. I was the one who ran after the boy. I don’t know what madness came over me.”
“When you come on a journey like this, whatever happens, be it good or bad, it’s teaching you some lesson you need to learn,” Raúl said, between mouthfuls. “Do you think you can accept this?” He glanced from me to James and back again.
James said, “What happens if you don’t accept the lesson?”
“Then life will teach you the same lesson over and over again until you finally learn it.”
“And what is the lesson?” I asked, knowing what the answer would be.
James answered for the shaman: “Not to be too attached to anything,” and Raúl nodded in agreement as Maria also murmured: “Yes, non attachment.”
“Oh look, I was mad as hell but I don’t want it to ruin my time here,” I said. “I’m certainly willing to chalk it up to having learnt a lesson. It would have been so much worse if any of us had been stabbed by those boys. And I still have my memories. I came here to heal and that’s more important than worrying about possessions.”
&n
bsp; Maria touched my arm gently as she looked at me saying, “Kate, that is what my mother would call ‘grace’.”
Chapter Twenty-two
Our next stop was for two days on Amantani or “Love Island”. We stayed in a mountain-side guest house, and every morning and evening we scaled the path to the summit to meditate on love and compassion. Raúl had suggested that I should try sending love and light to Trevor as an exercise in forgiveness. He said, “Where there is a loving intention, un-forgiveness cannot exist. You will eventually feel gratitude for the lessons learnt and your heart will mend.” I focused on this exercise whenever I visualised love and light at the start of a meditation. Bit by bit I began to find it easier than I would have thought possible. It made me feel light-hearted, as though I were being released from shackles.
As we headed down to the guesthouse after yet another ceremony, Raúl told us: “I am taking each of you in turn for a tarot reading in my room and afterwards we can have a discussion on the boat back to Puno. First I see Kate, while the rest of you do whatever packing you need.”
There’s always that strange sensation, entering a man’s room, knowing he has slept there. I knew I need not fear Raúl making any untoward advances – in fact, he had an asexual vibe. Yet as I walked in, I was immediately hit by a very strong male odour, like testosterone mixed with smelly socks. I found him sitting at a small table with two decks of cards piled on either side. He indicated for me to take the chair opposite him, and I sat down feeling somewhat apprehensive. What was he going to tell me? He asked me to shuffle the first deck and then cut it into bundles of three, which I did. Then he asked me to choose one bundle. After I chose the middle section, he proceeded to lay out the cards on the table.
“Oh, you’re reading my fortune – I hope it’s good.”
“Ah no, my sister!” He threw his hands in the air – I was surprised by his evident frustration with me. “The tarot is a tool for revealing your subconscious. The past is irreversible but things must be learned from it. The future can never be foretold, unless you give someone that power over you and you make it a self-fulfilling prophecy. The power, your power, is in the present moment and that is what you need to learn. If you do not realise your true power by the time you leave here, then your journey will not have been completed.”
Love & The Goddess Page 18