Thoughts on Peru
I wish I had done a better job of recording my thoughts on my 2 months last fall in Peru. It was an intense trip, with many great and bad experiences: beautiful new birds, quarreling field assistants, jaw-dropping scenery, being detained by the Peruvian police, learning new field techniques, a borrowed tent that was neither bug- nor water-proof, and collecting lots of data for my dissertation.
One of the aspects about my time in Peru that I continually revisit is the humbling generosity of the Andean Peruvians we met. We traveled up and down Andean rivers, searching for campsites along workable stretches of river every few days. In doing so, we asked many different people and communities for permission to live and work on their land. We arrived in an expensive 4x4 truck filled with pricey field and lab equipment, and usually we were offered a place to camp for free. Elderly women would walk miles on steep mountain roads carrying produce on their backs, and stop in to give us a sackful of avocados or limes, accepting nothing in return. These people have next to nothing: their shoes are worn sandals (even in the cold wet seasons of the high Andes); they wear the same clothing for days in a row, presumably because they have nothing else; an elderly woman with shoulder joint pain I met could not afford Advil/Tylenol; empty disposable plastic water bottles (which we would have thrown away) were eagerly accepted as valuable tools for hauling river water to livestock. Despite their extreme poverty, they shared what they had with us. Their produce is their livelihood, and yet they gave it to us, rich gringos who clearly did not need it.
I hope I will never forget the generosity and hospitality of the women we met, and that it will continue to inspire me to more generous behaviors and attitudes.
One of the aspects about my time in Peru that I continually revisit is the humbling generosity of the Andean Peruvians we met. We traveled up and down Andean rivers, searching for campsites along workable stretches of river every few days. In doing so, we asked many different people and communities for permission to live and work on their land. We arrived in an expensive 4x4 truck filled with pricey field and lab equipment, and usually we were offered a place to camp for free. Elderly women would walk miles on steep mountain roads carrying produce on their backs, and stop in to give us a sackful of avocados or limes, accepting nothing in return. These people have next to nothing: their shoes are worn sandals (even in the cold wet seasons of the high Andes); they wear the same clothing for days in a row, presumably because they have nothing else; an elderly woman with shoulder joint pain I met could not afford Advil/Tylenol; empty disposable plastic water bottles (which we would have thrown away) were eagerly accepted as valuable tools for hauling river water to livestock. Despite their extreme poverty, they shared what they had with us. Their produce is their livelihood, and yet they gave it to us, rich gringos who clearly did not need it.
I hope I will never forget the generosity and hospitality of the women we met, and that it will continue to inspire me to more generous behaviors and attitudes.