We recently had our first break from classes about three weeks into the semester to celebrate Holy Week, or Semana Santa, one of the biggest holidays in Peru. After consulting my Lonely Planet guidebook and multiple Internet sites, I convinced my group that we should to go to the Andean town of Ayacucho to celebrate this momentous occasion. I read that the town is popular with Peruvian tourists but not very well-known by most gringos. It has more than 33 churches and traditional celebrations in addition to the city’s modern discotecas and wonderful selection of restaurants.
But having decided where we would to go, we then had to figure out how to get there. Luckily, the host mother of a girl in my group belongs to an organization of teachers who travels to the city all the time. She gave us the teachers’ information, and we were able to sign up for a tour with them.
After five weeks in Peru and three weeks of classes, we were all looking forward to this adventure as a chance to get out of Lima, the concrete city. The following Tuesday morning, we got up at 5 a.m. Clutching our bags full of food that we packed for the bus ride, we met our tour guides in one of Peru’s sketchier neighborhoods. We boarded the bus and tried to make ourselves as comfortable as possible in its small seats.
As other passengers began boarding, we realized that we were the youngest people on this trip — by at least 40 years. But that didn’t mean that our travel companions were just a bunch of old retirees. In fact, a lot of the time, they had more energy than we did!
We were told the trip would require an eight-hour drive, but eight hours slowly became 11. Given our little sleep the night before, the high altitude and the curvy switchbacks of the road, we were all relieved when we arrived in Ayacucho in one piece.
The excitement in the air was immediately palpable. The people of Ayacucho, who were devastated by a violent wave of terrorism during the 1990s, welcomed us graciously. Every person that we encountered was incredibly kind and wanted to know what they could do to make our experience better.
Although no one in my group is Catholic — and Semana Santa in Peru in completely based in Catholicism — the celebration was a cultural experience well worth the distance covered. The trip was definitely an excursion I will never forget. Each day spent in the city made me realize that despite many of Peru’s obvious flaws, I am falling in love with the country. Each night in Ayacucho there was a different procession for us to watch, complete with elaborate floats, music and dancing.
The highlight of the week was the all-night celebration Saturday evening to mark the resurrection of Christ. We stood on the roof of our hotel watching fireworks and drinking wine before staying up all night with the rest of the town dancing and celebrating. Partaking in such activities, I realized that everything really will be OK. Not only will I be able to survive the next three months in Peru, I also will enjoy them.
We spent one day watching the running of the bulls. The run was a bit anticlimactic as it consisted of three tired-looking bulls attached to a rope. My group and I, however, bought into the hype and donned red shirts and scarves. And like everyone else in the streets that day, we pretended that our lives were in danger.
Admittedly, I have had some complaints and frustrations lately about my study abroad experience. Even though hanging out with a bunch of retired people for a week in a small mountain town probably isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, it was the perfect place for my epiphany. I received multiple invitations from our elderly travel companions to come for dinner and even more offers to meet their grandchildren who are about my age. It’s amazing how matchmaking seems to be in the forefront of every Peruvian’s mind.
The mountain air, enthusiasm of the people in Ayacucho and a break from my normal routine were the perfect medicine for the culture shock and frustration that I had been experiencing before. Now, I feel completely content and know that I wouldn’t change a thing about my trip. Though my contentedness may not last for the duration of my trip, I will always look back on this time fondly and remember the peace and happiness I found in the Andes during Holy Week.
Rachel’s column runs biweekly Tuesdays. She can be reached at r.gottlieb@cavalierdaily.com.
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