From the title of this post, you’d be forgiven for presuming that I’m about to describe a Peruvian gastrointestinal upset in graphic detail. Rest assured that’s not the case…but by the time you finish reading this, you’ll probably think it actually would have been preferable to read about the frequency and consistency of my bowel movements. Apologies in advance.
Not sure what you made of my last post from Nazca but we had one final stop there before leaving, at a traditional pottery makers. Now Jarrod, I just KNOW this sort of visit would be right up your alley.
Here’s one I prepared earlier. Thousands of years earlier.
The production of this pottery isn’t quite as sexy as the movie Ghost would have you believe. There’s nobody groping you erotically from behind as you mould the clay for one. But it’s genuinely fascinating to see how it’s done. They use all natural dies to make the paint, and believe it or not, they paint their pottery with brushes made from BABIES HAIR. BABIES HAIR!! (Don’t worry, I had a good look around and there was no secret door leading to a room full of caged babies that they use to harvest the paintbrushes).
Tools of the trade
Possibly the biggest surprise though was how they polish the pottery. There’s no synthetic glaze used, instead they run a stone over your face and transmit the oils from your skin onto the pot to give it a smooth sheen. Truly. I gasped like someone on a bad infomercial when I saw it happen. Here I was feeling greasy and feral after a full on day in the sun, when in fact I was sitting on a GOLD MINE of sebaceous goodness that could polish a few shelves worth of pottery. I would have happily bought half a dozen plates and bowls but I remembered a valuable lesson from earlier travels–stocking up on breakable souvenirs early in a trip is a sure fire ticket to a nervous breakdown/screaming like a maniac at fellow airline passengers who are about to innocently stow their 8kg carry on case near your fragile Egyptian perfume bottles.
Just some of the finished products
An overnight bus ride later and we arrived in the gorgeous city of Arequipa.
Stunning (unlike us after our overnight bus trip)
We were a) completely ravenous and b) backpacker scumbags who never knock back a free sample, so we promptly headed to the local market to peruse. Things got off to a slightly strange start with stall upon stall of herbal concoctions that had me wondering about the ultimate-ness/ultra-ness of my lady parts. I must confess I don’t actually know what an Ultra Vagina does; maybe it can lift a bowling ball up off the floor–like you see in vacuum cleaner commercials, who knows?
Add to cart?
Fortunately we quickly reached the divine produce section and courtesy of our lovely leader Jess, had the opportunity to sample all sorts of fabulous fruit, gratis!
All of it, in my face, right now
Why this stall had a baby hanging from a noose above the produce should be obvious to any shopper. Everyone knows when you see a baby swinging from the gallows, you think “ooh, that’s right, I need mandarins!”
Marketing 101: Fruit and Veg needs a macabre edge
There were all sorts of other weird and wonderful things on display. From goats heads that obliged brilliantly when you say “Smile!”–
Well accustomed to being papped
To dried frogs just hanging around–
Whassup?
To the stall selling, well, Frog Juice.
Yes.
Kermit in a Nutribullet.
According to our leader it’s not uncommon for locals to drink it, as it has benefits including (but not limited to) helping with immunity, helping with iron deficiency and curing respiratory ailments. We had the Inca Trail a mere few days later so I decided I needed every advantage possible and handed over my 15 Peruvian Soles.
We asked the stallholder for a list of ingredients should you wish to recreate this beverage at home. It contains:
Ribbit.
1 Frog, deceased and skinned, fried off in a saucepan.
Water
Honey
Bee Pollen
Maca (a herbal sort of viagra)
Chia seeds
Coca flower (helps with altitude sickness and contains a very, very, very minuscule percentage of cocaine)
So based on this, all things going well, I could end up nauseous, horny and a little high. Excellent.
The stall holder cooked up the frog in a little pan, and blended it with the various other ingredients. Meanwhile I tried to banish thoughts of Kermit’s adorable version of Somewhere Over The Rainbow, and watched the locals ingesting their green drinks. For a supposed ‘juice’ the contents of their glasses looked disconcertingly thick and sludgy. It almost looked like they were sipping a stroke patient’s pureed vegetables from a huge mug. No turning back though, the giant glass was put in my hand, cameras were pointed in my direction and it was time to give it a shot.
Steeling oneself
First sip
Sculling it
How was it? Well it mainly tasted like a warm, thick, herbal honey drink of some sort. Not unpleasant per se, but I certainly wouldn’t expect to find myself saying “geez I could positively demolish a frog juice,” and darting down to the local creek bed wielding a net in the near future. And the last bit in the glass wasn’t the best… You know how sometimes when you make a smoothie you wind up with unpalatable bits of banana in the bottom? Well….*gags slightly*
Oh god, chunky bits
So, fortified by fruit and frog juice, we headed into town for a wander and up to a little square for a group photo–that naturally had to be taken on all 15 cameras, with increasingly strained smiles, thus blocking the small lane way to any pedestrian traffic for a good five minutes. Because: priorities.
14th take. We’re not saying cheese, we’re gritting teeth and saying ‘just take it!’
Then it was onto a sweet little picanteria for lunch. Specialty of the house: guinea pig.
No palomino served here. Guinea pig on the other hand…
Verdict–it tasted like chicken (doesn’t everything?) and was as irritating like quail or spatchcock to eat, with lots of labour to get very little meat off the bone. In short, if you have pet guinea pigs, you are still perfectly safe to invite me over to your home. There will be no need for miniature crime scene tape around the guinea pig hutch. Oh, and an unexpected verdict–when you’re talking animatedly over lunch and a joker sitting beside you picks up a little guinea pig claw and strokes your cheek with it saying “why? why???” in a quavery voice, it makes you jump clean out of your skin.
No more hamster wheel for you.
Gah! I was meant to cover both the markets and the Colca Canyon Condor spotting this blog post but I’m going to have to hold off on the Condors till next entry. In the meantime I throw as always to you: shopping and dining in Arequipa–Jarrod, would you go there?
Dig in!
OMG Meg, where was Patrick Swayze when you needed him. Fascinating to learn of the side benefits of the skin for pottery. A new ‘fad’ for the local A-listers perhaps.
That aside, I thought your tour would take you places where there is real food. At least your photos suggest that the frog, goats and guinea pig were all quite happy about the prospect of exploring your digestive system. As for me, I would have told them I was vegetarian. Otherwise, my fear would be what to say when you reach the hot dog stand.
Interested to hear how you get around that !
That last photo. Is. Hilarious. But I’m not going to show it to the barbarians. Way to go Megsy – frog juice and (what looks like) dagwood pig minus the stick. You go girl.
Okay I am swallowing here to avoid throwing up. Frog juice, guinea pig who looked like he was squealing, goats heads with blood smeared on the tiles, babies hanging over mandarins, brushes made from babies hair. What in God’s earth!! Who in God’s earth!! But putting it all in perspective, they probably squirm at some things we do and eat. Hmm, well probably not. But you are embracing so much, seeing so much and you are having a go. The smile on your face says it all, you look radiant, even after sculling the frog juice. Good on you darling.