Just say NO to noni

Last year, I saved an article about Peruvian cuisine from some travel magazine, thinking it would serve as a good reference during our culinary explorations. And it has been. In particular, the article kicked off with a beautiful photo of native Peruvian fruits. Somehow it became my “to-do” list of fruits to try.


Some have been really easy to find. I adore lúcuma. 

Lúcumas are in the middle. When cut open, they are bright orange and have a large seed, like an avocado.

Plantains and limes are not new for us but we use them frequently in our cooking. Pepinos are very small, mild-tasting melons.

Pepinos, with an errant apple

Granadilla reminds me of a brain but when I stop thinking about that, I kind of like it.

Granadilla

It tastes pretty good when paired with chirimoya and mandarin oranges in jugos. Chirimoya is interesting but so far the only time I’ve actually enjoyed it is in the aforementioned juice combination. By itself it calls to mind a sweaty locker room; ugh.

Chirimoya

Maracuyá we have every single day in our morning jugo, made by Sam and Simon. Aguaymanto is lovely in its presentation, every berry wrapped in a delicate little bag.

Two aguaymanto, ready to eat; unwrapped aguaymanto on the tray.

Until recently, the only time I had tried camu camu was in an incredibly delicious chocolate. That didn’t count, not exactly, so when I saw that our regular fruit vendor had it, we bought some and Sam made mango-camu camu jugo. More, please!

Making juice with camu camu

As of last week, there were still five fruits left on the list. I was at a mercado with Yannina’s mom/Dieuwe’s grandmother, Mamita. As she was bargaining with a fruit vendor over the quality of the lúcuma, my eye wandered over the rest of the fruits. There was a bizarre looking fruit near the bottom. “What is that?” I asked. “Noni, three soles per kilo.” Oooh, a strange new fruit that I figured was on my list. I bought one, added some apples at Simon’s request, stuffed them in my backpack, and continued ambling with Mamita.


She bought Simon a chicha morada, ensuring that he would love her for the rest of the afternoon, and offered to teach me how to make it (yes!!!). While we sat and drank our chichas, I noticed a weird smell. I figured the lúcumas Mamita had purchased were really ripe but didn’t think too much of it.


When I got home, I opened up my backpack and a powerful stench leaped out at me and smacked me in the nose. “Yuck!” I yelled, making a disgusted face, and put the noni in the refrigerator to contain the odor. Simon was intrigued yet worried by my reaction and went around imitating me for a while, coming back every so often to see if I’d repeat my reaction. As it still reeked, I was happy to oblige.


Sam, in another room and unaware of the drama in the kitchen, yelled out, “Hey, does Simon need a diaper change?” “No,” I made another face for Simon's benefit. “It's this stinky fruit!”


I thought about throwing the noni out, but it was on my list of foods to try, after all. It was in the picture! Someone, somewhere, must have eaten it at some point for it to be popular enough to be featured in this article! Maybe it actually tasted good, once you got past the peel.


I Googled how to prepare it. I should have known; practically every site I visited said something similar to this: “It has a foul odor and bad taste… but the health benefits are unparalleled! Peel it, blend it with some citrus juice to mask the taste, and drink immediately.”


Well, I’d come this far. I got several limes ready, pinched my nose shut, and peeled the stinkiest-of-all-stinky fruit. 

Noni

I threw it in the blender, squeezed the limes in, and mixed it. I tasted the smallest amount possible, gagged, then flushed it. “How do people force this down?” I asked Sam. “I think I’m going to be sick!”


“It smells like someone already was,” Sam observed. “Can you flush that again? And while you’re at it, can you open the outside door for some air?”


Sam later added that eating noni goes against one of the laws of nature, which is that things that are supposed to be eaten are generally attractive and smell good. Those that are to be avoided are stinky and ugly. I’m not sure what possessed people to start eating this horrifically disgusting fruit, but thank goodness they apparently get some health benefits from it. I’ll stay noni-free from now on, thank you very much. No wonder they put the noni in the back of the picture. The photographer must have wanted it to be as far as possible from him or herself. You can see the picture here.


I think I’ll take a breather from my list and concentrate on mangos to recover. Now if only I can get the smell off of my fingers. I feel like Lady Macbeth, what with all this scrubbing: “Out, damned spot!”

Dad's recuerdos de Peru

I invited my parents to write a guest post, if they so desired, about anything from their visit. My dad took me up on it.

Ahhh, Peru!! 

When Alison, Sam and Simon created an opportunity for themselves to work in fair trade issues with Manos Amigas in Lima, our Peru trip was a certainty.  

To see them was great pleasure: their immersion into the Lima scene; becoming full-blown Spanish speakers; working with an organization which operates far from efficiency, but working with them nonetheless; visiting the homes and workshops of the very artisans who create the products that Sam buys for Global Gifts and Ten Thousand Villages buys for their stores; experiencing their love for Simon; experiencing Simon’s zest for life and his totally good-natured demeanor. 

  

Visiting Peru was icing on the cake: a new country, new cities, a new culture and Machu Picchu, one of the Seven Wonders of the World.


This guest post is a vignette of impressions and observations. 

Street crossing: Alison was right! You take your life in your own hands when crossing a street. The pedestrian sits at the bottom of the totem pole of street value. Even when the light turns RED – STOP, LOOK both ways. When all vehicles are stopped, you move.

Crossing the street in front of the apartment can be scary when two of these buses are passing on either side of you! 

Sidewalk walking: Simon is babe-in-arms or on shoulders at all times. The street is too close for comfort and the vehicles move far too fast to stop for ANY intruder in their pathway. 

Bus riding: Have an unsettled stomach? Riding old recycled American school buses will settle it quicker than you can say “speed bump”. No suspension delivers the settling process. And HOLD ON! Stops and starts can leave you in a stranger’s lap. 

Music of Vehicle Horn Blowing: Look at that ant parade on your driveway. Seeming chaos, yet all are moving - with twists, turns, starts, stops - in the same direction. Add vehicle horns to that parade with each ant required to toot, screech or bellow that horn every 5 seconds and you have Lima traffic. 

Restaurants: La Pollera, San Antonio, Haiti, Mangos, La Granja Heidi, to name just a few. Delicious seafood (perhaps just a few too many calamari in the mix now and then), poultry, potatoes, vegetables. 

Causa at Cesar's

Pisco Sours: Peruvian versions matched both the Chilean and Argentinian versions. Mmmm! Refreshingly good! 

The Malecón: Located just three blocks from Alison, Sam and Simon's apartment, the malecón sits on the edge of a 200’ cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean. The malecón is a park with walkways, playgrounds, flower gardens, ice cream vendors, sculpture gardens, dirt-bike track, skateboarding park, parapente launching area, lighthouse… The malecón stretches for several miles down Miraflores’ coastline. The Lima city map stretches from outstretched arms one hand to the other hand AND you need a magnifying glass to read the street names. 

The Incas: Inca art reflects a highly developed civilization. Structures of stone, chiseled with hand-made tools, fit so tightly as to not allow a knife to slide between the stones (no mortar).

Their knowledge of the sun is reflected in Machu Picchu’s Temple of the Sun, a round tapered tower. In the center of the temple is a carved rock with a straight edge. During the summer solstice, this edge will align precisely with the light falling through the only window of the temple. The Incas identified many constellations. One was the Llama. The llama disappeared from view in August and was thought to have gone to the underworld to fill up with water. Its reappearance in January signified the llama’s being filled with water and therefore commencing the rainy season.

Machu Picchu: (I will merely outline the day for Chris and me.) Alison was feeling better but not ready for a trip. Both Alison and Sam encouraged us to not miss our chance to visit. A taxi picked us up at 6:30 a.m. and delivered us to the Cuzco bus station; bus to Ollantaytambo; PeruRail to Aguas Calientes; bus up side of mountain on dirt road with at least 8 hairpin curves to Machu Picchu. 2-hour guided tour. After our tour, we climbed to the Caretaker's house to take photos of Machu Picchu, which are the classic ones seen on most photos – sans the visitors.

All steps extended beyond our normal lift and decline. Mysterious experience of being at the edge of the rain forest at 7,000’; peaks, once shrouded in clouds, suddenly revealed their 12,000’ height, then just as quickly hid from view. Classic pictures of Machu Picchu do not reveal the size both in depth and height. Agricultural terraces extended hundreds of feet down the steep side of the mountain. The opposite side plunged thousands of feet to the Urubamba Valley. No missteps please. We returned by bus to Aguas Calientes only to find that a landslide which broke the rails on the railroad would keep us there until removal of slide and repair of track. This created great conversation opportunities for strangers. Ours was with German students on a long South American journey. Slide was cleared and rails fixed in 3.5 hours! PERURAIL!! Return rail trip was tense. Nighttime and the ferocious Urubamba River churned just outside our railcar window. What if? Arrived back in Cusco at 12:30 a.m. SUPER DAY!

The Urubamba River

Cuzco: Cuzco was the center of Inca culture. The capital. Beautiful city at 11,000’. (I was too chicken to drink coca leaf tea, although I did not experience altitude illness.) Cuzco was built to form the shape of the puma. The city map outlines the puma. Within that area all buildings are stone. No concrete permitted. Visited the Pre-Columbian Art Museum, Inca Museum, Temple of the Sun-Qorikancha and Saqsayhuaman Ruins.

Street Width: Although the center city of Cuzco has wide streets running around the Plaza de Armas and a few other main streets, most of the remaining streets are narrow. Outside our hotel the busy street ran 11’ wide and steep with the surface consisting of potato-sized stones set on edge. Just try to stop fast! The sidewalk walked one person wide. You needed to step into the street to pass. 

Interesting Encounters: In Pisaq a boy was selling little bird whistles. “How much?” I asked. “5 soles.” Hmm. I’m supposed to bargain but I didn’t have the heart.  “I’ll take two.” The next day, while playing with those whistles with Simon, I ran into the same boy. The boy asked, “How much you pay?” I replied, “5 soles.” “Too much! Too much! I sell you for 3 soles!” 

Whistle seller

In Cuzco Alison was feeling well enough to want a carry-in dinner from La Granja Heidi’s. After deciding what she wanted from the menu, I returned and spoke with the owner (Carlo), asking for sure that what Alison was getting was both gluten-free and good for her recovering stomach. He described the potatoes: “Well, they are like, uh, uh, Mennonite potatoes.” “What!?!” I replied. “Mennonite potatoes? I’m a Mennonite.” He said, “Oh you are? So is my wife!!”

Simon and Grandma: They are soul buddies. Whether giving a bath to Simon, changing his diaper or simply playing on the floor, Simon was laughing. He finds pleasure in the simplest of things. We took him to dinner – two hours – and he was totally entertained eating his papas and ketchup.

Family and Peru. What a pleasure! I would return in a heartbeat.

Memories from an adventure I haven't exactly taken yet

My parents came to visit recently and it was so fabulous to be with them. I'm not sure that I have ever gone this long without seeing them in person, but gracias to Skype, we get to see them through the computer every week or two.


They read stories to Simon, who shows them his toys and new skills. This familiarity paid off when Sam and I came down with food poisoning mere hours after my parents arrived in the middle of the night. They came over after breakfast, Simon greeted them like an old friend, and they commenced playing. Sam and I rested and recuperated for the next day or two, while Simon and his abuelos went to parks, out to eat, played in the apartment, etc. I was so thankful Simon was happy to hang out with them (without Sam or me!) so quickly, needing zero transition time at all.

Several days later, we departed for Cuzco, 11,000 feet high in the mountains, for a trek through the Sacred Valley to Machu Picchu. But as I came down with another round of food poisoning immediately after arriving, plans changed. I spent five days in hotel rooms while everyone else explored and played with Simon. 

Mom and Dad made it to Machu Picchu but Sam and I didn't; we are hoping to visit when his mom comes. While I was incredibly bummed to essentially miss the vacation with my parents, I was relieved no one else was affected and that there were so many extra hands to help with Simon.


I loved seeing the photos from everyone's cameras when they returned each day. These are some of my favorites.

There are amazing Inca ruins, called Sacsayhuaman, just a short walk from Cuzco's main plaza. Seeing how tiny Simon is compared to some of these rocks helped put their size into perspective for me.

You can see a puma's paw in the rock design above Simon and Sam's heads.

At Sacsayhuaman, the Incas constructed slides for all-ages fun. Kids from Cuzco go to play there all the time, according to Sam's guide. Simon had a blast going down the big slides with Sam and the "baby" slide all by himself.

We frequently saw women or children dressed in native dress, approaching us or other tourists to ask whether we wanted to take their photograph... for a tip (una propinita). A couple of times we did.

And based on the number of times people took Simon's photo or asked to do so, we started joking that we should ask for una propinita too! The family that took this photo ran up to remove Simon's baseball cap so his blond hair would show in all its glory.

We visited the workshop and then walked to the market puesto of Juan Cardenas, the elegant gentleman I mentioned during Manos Amigas' capacity-building training. 

Juan Cardenas, walking up the hill outside his home & workshop, taking us to his market puesto

I was particularly fascinated by the jewelry his wife crochets: the silver threads are thinner than a human hair!

Simon's capacity for joy in any situation is a lesson I keep trying to learn... at this restaurant I was feeling grumpy and was certainly not a nice travel companion. Yet here he was, finding happiness in getting tickled by yarn.

We returned to Lima and I enjoyed the last few days, all too short, with my parents. On their last evening, we ate fantastically fabulous food at El Señorio de Sulco. 

And then, several hours later, they left in a taxi, headed for a midnight flight home. So lovely to have them here; so hard to see them leave.

A glimpse behind the scenes

The project that will keep us busy until the end of July is writing and editing stories of Manos Amigas’ artisans and taking photos which help tell those stories. Sam will post some of these stories and photos to his blog; while I will probably link to them occasionally, I suspect that my stories here will be limited to the adventure of finding and writing those stories, like being on (and off!) the edge of the map.


I’ve been working on this project for several months now, but we only just started making visits to the artisans ourselves in February. While I knew the goal was to write stories for nearly all of the artisans, we also knew that a bunch of information existed already based on our explorations of the computer network. I didn’t want to have to replicate work, and figured that some of the existing stories might just need some accompanying photos, for instance. With Christina’s help, I found all the current information from all the various computers and slowly started reading through them to see what information existed on what artisan. And, oh joyous rapture, I built a spreadsheet to keep track of it all. How I love a clean, chock-full-o’-miscellaneous-info, excel spreadsheet. I was recording which artisans already had a story written, whether it was good enough to use as is or with a few edits, or whether it needed more information to be interesting, which artisan workshops were documented with good photographs, etc.


Finally, I could cross-reference my spreadsheet with a list Yannina had given me for which artisans to visit. I determined that about 10 of the 50-odd artisans did not need a visit at all, due to the quality of information already in Manos Amigas’ possession. This was a relief since, while we are excited by these visits for a number of reasons, I really don’t want to ride a bus for two hours there, visit a workshop for an hour or two, then take a bus back for two hours, if we don’t genuinely need to visit. I think Simon and Sam feel the same way!


Most of the artisan workshops we visit are at least one hour away by public bus. Most are probably closer to one and a half to two hours, one way. So these aren’t spontaneous visits. We figure out what artisans are next on our list and review what type of documentation we need to collect. We tend to see 2 or 3 workshops in a day, depending on how close they are to one another and how much information we need. I interview the artisan and scribble notes, never getting down as much information as I want to because of my mind's constant mixture of Spanish and English. Sam takes photographs and asks questions. While we tag team on holding Simon or watching him carefully in the workshops, Sam usually takes care of him more often, since I have to ask questions/listen/write, etc. Simon's limit tends to be two workshop visits, although I am always pushing the envelope.


While we have visited workshops in several different districts so far, I'm limiting this post to the workshops in San Juan de Lurigancho: three jewelry workshops, two painted glass workshops, and one painted wood workshop. The levels of success have varied intensely. 


Fermín and Carlos are incredible silversmiths (each has his own workshop; they are colleagues but not business partners) and each has a comfortable home and workshop. They have both been in the business for 25 years and have a small handful of clients, therefore not dependent on any one client for most of their business. That said, they are both always looking for more opportunities for clients and to grow and expand. One of Carlos' clients is Novica, and he showed us his work on their website. Fermín is interested in starting a jewelry school for poor people in his workshop, in the space where his current living quarters are, so that he and his wife could teach their craft to others who do not have a specialized skill yet. Sam recently posted about Fermín and included the story we wrote, as well as a lot of pictures; hence Fermín will not be as represented here in pictures as the other artisans.

Piles of beads being made into earrings at Fermin's workshop

Carlos' instructions for a design for a new pendant

Carlos gave us a demonstration of how he works with silver. First pieces of silver are melted under intense heat from a blowtorch.

After melting, Carlos pours the silver into a mold,  then puts it in water to cool. He chips away any impurities that remain. The small block of silver just underneath Carlos' hand is thick right now...

...but after putting the block of silver through this compressor several times, it begins to thin out.

After a dozen or so passes through the compressor, the small block of silver was stretched into this thin band. Carlos can now use this to cut out different shapes to create earrings, rings, etc.

One of Carlos' workers heats a ring with a blowtorch while carefully placing the base on top. The base will later be filled with a stone.

Simon wasn't sure if he wanted to play with Carlos' dog or not, but they kept tabs on each other the whole visit.

Alvina also creates jewelry, but has a small workshop and has to outsource the silver melting/pressing that Fermín and Carlos can easily do in their workshops. Manos Amigas is her only client right now and while she has been able to support herself and her two sons, now in their early twenties, with jewelry making, she is mulling over other options. Alvina created the beautiful earrings we helped package for a recent shipment.

Alvina with a wall of jewelry designs and past orders

Apolonio and Jaime (again, two separate workshops) both create painted glass pieces, from trays to jewelry boxes to mirrors. I am particularly in love with Apolonio’s work. While neither employs people outside of his family, Apolonio is clearly more successful than Jaime. Apolonio seems to have a better time fulfilling his orders on time and well, and his love for his work was evident as we talked with him. Apolonio rents out two homes as an additional source of income, and is able to support himself on his artesanía as well as his rental income. Apolonio’s roof, however, still looked like it was going to collapse while we were there.

The base for one of the glass trays; it just needs to be placed into the wooden frame

The rear of Apolonio's workshop

One of the mirror frames he creates...

...several of his trays...

... and another tray, with Sam.

This brown building in the middle is Apolonio's home. His workshop is behind the sign at the top.

Jaime enjoys his work, too, but it doesn’t seem like he has the same level of business sophistication that the more successful artisans do. Jaime is considering quitting artesanía and opening a restaurant instead. His workshop is literally carved out of the rock in the hill.

Jaime's home

Jaime showed us several steps that go into making painted glass trays. The design is screened onto a piece of glass.

His son creates color separations on his computer, which Jaime then uses to paint on each color.

More color separations; there is a lot of detail in each tray!

After each color of paint is placed, they lay the glass pieces out on this long table, in the front room of their house, to dry. You can see the workshop through the open door in the back.

This is what the tray looks like when it is finished.

The workshop, carved out of rock

This is where Jaime does all the carpentry work for building the wooden trays. It is a tiny space, up these steps. It is perhaps four feet deep by 10 feet wide.

Jaime and his family

Lastenia and her siblings paint ceramics for plates and bowls, and wood for jewelry boxes and other knickknacks. They have been working together for 30 years. They live on the very very edge of a settlement at the top of San Juan de Lurigancho. They started building their home/workshop 30 years ago, but it looks like it was just started last year. It still lacks a roof, walls in some places. The existing walls are brick and mortar.

Oscar paints details on a platter

Lastenia, Oscar, and Flormira

Placemats in process

In Lastenia's workshop... note that there is no wall at the end.

Lastenia is feeling the economic downturn keenly, responding to calls from the municipal government every time they put a call out for workers. I asked her what type of work that meant. “You knock on people’s doors and deliver messages about bills being due, that sort of thing. They pay you 30 cents for every message you successfully deliver. That means you have to run around to actually make enough money every day!” Lastenia is not young. 

It is incredibly meaningful to see the artisans in their homes, in their environs, and seeing them produce items which look familiar from my shopping excursions to Global Gifts. It is also quite humbling. Seeing the beauty that can be produced from a district where “beauty” is not the first word that comes to mind, is striking.