Writing a novel

When I returned from NYC in late July, I began writing a novel. I just woke up one morning with a story in my mind and began. That is the reason this blog has not been updated in a while. Six months later and too many hours of research to assess, I am finally ready to piece together the bits I have written. This first part will take my main character from his home in a village in southwestern Russia, to Moscow in the second half of the 1800s, and on to Sakhalin Island in the Russian Far East. Chekhov wrote a detailed account of this penal colony when he visited it in 1890. Without Chekhov's book I would not have been able to write this portion. The character escapes from Sakhalin and makes it to Hakodate, Hokkaido, Japan and then on to Vladivostok on the mainland of the Russian Far East.

Now the hard part begins. Writing so that the story flows and the words capture what I want to tell is not, I have found, such an easy task. But I begin...

Update on Loche

Earlier I posted a piece about loche, but had no photo and only incomplete information. Above is a picture of a loche I purchased in Mercado Modelo in Chiclayo for 3 soles. It is 8 inches high. I also found an organization that is dedicated to research on and the promotion of the loche. However, this was not my finding, but the work of a woman whose blog is dedicated to food. After writing to her, she did some searching and found this organization at http://www.lamolina.edu.pe/hortalizas/loche%20Cucurbitaceae%202006%20ppt.pdf . They have pictures and information in both Spanish and English. Her blog is a wonderful compendium of information on food and has some delicious recipes www.worldonaplate.org .

My father-in-law, who has some farm land about 15 minutes (by car) from our house, asked local farmers about growing the loche. Most agreed that it had to be grown from cuttings, but one mentioned that the seed of the larger loche zapallo could be planted; a cutting taken from its vine could be planted, and the smaller loche would grow. We are going to try this.

If I were 25 to 30 years younger I would seriously consider growing loche for export. The flavor is superior to most types of pumpkin or squash. For now, we are experimenting with inventing recipes using the loche: a truly Peruvian vegetable.

A reply to Skyehigh

Thanks for the link to Lapsang Souchong Zhivago. As soon as I have finished my current package, I will try this. This was an amazing coincidence also. Reading the text for the naming of the tea I was surprised to find Vladivostok mentioned. I am currently in the process of writing a novel in which this amazing place figures. It is not your everyday place, so coming across it this way was a pleasant coincidence for me.

Music, music. music

The beat is great, insistent and infectious; the poetry of language, of sound, amuses and mystifies; the layers of sound splash out at you or interweave and almost disappear in the drive of the music. It is Reggae. It is Hip-Hop. It is Punk. Sometimes it is Funk. At times it comes close to the grittiest Rap. This is Reggaeton.

I love it much more than I do not like most Rap. Seldom does Rap have a sense of humor; a sense of laughing at itself. Rap needs to be too angry. Reggaeton delights in itself. Sometimes the Reggae seems far away, but the Hip-Hop is always right there. The music uses many languages just the way it plays with sound. Even though I can’t understand much of the Spanish, neither can my Spanish speaking husband. But that’s not necessary. The riot of sound runs away with the language.

Okay, so I’m speaking of the best of Reggaeton. Some of it is just repetitive and boring. Even Daddy Yankee puts out songs that don’t live up to his best. But when he is good, he is very, very good. The repetitions are there, but they vary in a way that keeps them from being boring. The best reference I can make is to a musical tapestry of instrument and voice.

So why do so few people I know like it? I’m guessing that in general many “Americans” are not familiar with Latin music and its evolution of sound. I once was the same. Little by little this body of music became more familiar through listening, going to parties with Latino friends, visiting the Dominican Republic, residing in Manhattan, and living with my Peruvian husband.

Armed with a decent knowledge of this music (from Fado to Forro; from the Cha-Cha to Son; from Cumbia to Bacchata; from Chicha’s Culebritica to Huaynos; from Salsa to Merengue; from Flamenco tango to Samba and on) and with a good background in Classical, Folk, Rock, Country, and world music, I moved to Peru. Here I was hoping to hear some of the great musicians I had heard on albums and Cds. Though Lisandro Mesa is originally Columbian he has adopted Peru and I hoped to see him in a live show. He used to give concerts in our town, but (wouldn’t you know) he now tours the United States. I hear “live” music here almost every weekend, but it is too loud and too repetitive. Several months ago I found a radio station that was playing this “new” music, Reggaeton. “Dame la Gasolina” by Daddy Yankee was popular and played often. I ran out and bought the Cd.

Slowly I am learning the different songs and have seen some videos (some raunchier than necessary), but the radio does not announce the names of the performers. This is a disservice to the musicians. How does one learn which Cds to buy? This must keep sales down or confined to a small handful of kids who buy pirate Cds and learn by elimination.

A message to Daddy Yankee: Hey DY, please have someone change the policy of radio stations in Chiclayo, Peru. And while I’m at it, please continue to create those wonderful songs that are so complex and intriguing. Oh, yeah, a little less Funk, please.

Wonderful Vacation in Manhattan

Ah, Manhattan, NYC! I thought I wouldn't like it anymore since my life has changed so dramatically. I was wrong: breakfast on Broadway watching my favorite people (all colors, all nationalities, all religions, all styles, and even the homeless community meeting each other on benches); Central Park and Summerstage concerts; the Hudson River, Riverside Park and the Rotunda; the market in Union Square, the mishmash of 14th Street, subway musicians, and the subway rides in summer; neighborhoods I've known and loved; restaurants unlike any others and the availability of almost anything you might want. On my 2nd day at around 7 pm I stopped on the sidewalk and breathed deeply because the smell of Manhattan on a summer evening is something special. Of course, there have been changes since 2004, but Manhattan is always changing; some good, some bad.

One of the changes that I did not like in Manhattan (and in Connecticut where I stayed for a few days) was the architecture. When I first saw the hodgepodge of architectural styles called postmodern in the 90s I disliked what I saw, but what was mildly disturbing then has become frightening in the most recent architecture. It appears that corporations have a real taste for a mix of blockhouse, penitentiary, and grandiosity. Are they walling in, walling out, or both? On a day of 95 degrees there is a chill in the area of these buildings.

The best part of the vacation was dining, partying, and talking with my son and friends. Dan now lives on the Mianus River. Waking up in his room was a bit of Tarzan and Jane. With glass on three sides the leaves of trees surrounded the room, sun rays passing through. Egrets flew by and kayak rowers made their way up river. The party that weekend was a wonderful combination of my friends, his friends, our friends, new friends and good food. Back in Manhattan the team from FCH&S (Scott, Brian, Jeff, Dillion and Wasan) took me to lunch at the Olive Garden. The only photos I have of my trip are those that Scott took (see above & among photos). At the office I spent hours reconnecting with other workers. Their warm welcome was overwhelming. My good friend Monika S. had recovered from a car accident and we had a wonderful dinner together at City Lobster. So good to be with her and enjoy her wry humor. Then I spent a day in the park listening to music with Dan and friends (Andy, Anisa, Chris and Noel). Andy and I were celebrating our birthdays. I was completely taken by the lush green of the park after living in tan and sandy Peru for 2 1/2 years.

I stayed in a hotel that I recommend if you like the upper westside and do not care how small and non-luxury your hotel room is: Riverside Tower Hotel. Very affordable and close to restaurants, stores and the subway. I had accepted the generous offer of friend and former neighbor Kyle to stay in her apartment while she was in Spain and moved uptown. Her top floor apartment has breathtaking views of the Hudson and downtown Manhattan. There I met Christophe and his friends Aurelie and Faycal from Paris and Brigitte (now living in the US). These were lovely and intelligent people who made my stay even more pleasurable. Christophe introduced me to Mariage Freres' Lapsang Souchong tea. No tea has ever tasted this good. My friend Monika R. came up for dinner and brought the best bottle of wine I have ever had. My sister and brother-in-law took me to dinner at a terrific Thai place and friend Julie made me a great dinner at her place. Friend Jon and I walked through Riverside Park until it started to rain. I have forgotten to say how special it was to be in the rain in NYC. Our area of Peru gets 1/4 inch of rain a year and I was feeling deprived. Jon also showed me some of his new purchases of excellent antiquarian books.

On the way back I spent hours at the airport with newly met friend, Esther (she was going to Argentina) and we now keep in touch by email. When not with friends, I spent hours and hours shopping for things you cannot get in Peru. The Customs searcher in Peru laughed when his x-ray showed a stainless steel dish rack and drainer in one suitcase. So now I am back and if I could afford it I would spend one month a year in Manhattan. Thank you to everyone who made my trip an exciting experience to remember for many years.

Earthquakes, politics, and NYC

El Temblor: Though we are far north of the quake zone, friends and family sent messages hoping we were okay. This assured us that we have not been forgotten though we are far away. This, too, is a quake zone, but there has not been a large one since 1970. Even that was not too bad by the standards of the August 15th quake in Pisco, Ica, Chincha, etc. The pictures on TV and in the papers have shown some of the damage, but no one thought to photograph from the air. That would give a better idea of the incredible destruction and show what must be miles of flattened buildings. The death toll was not as large as some other quakes in Peru, but over 500 is many too many. It is the living, however, who are suffering from thirst, hunger, record cold, and the unbearable loss of family, friends, homes, and livelihood. It is now 12 days later and though some help has arrived, there is still deprivation. This brings us to

Politics: It seems that President Garcia either has been poorly informed or is so concerned with image before truth and caring that he (to our sensibility) downplayed the tragedy and answered looting (people needing food and blankets?) with troops. Did the troops get there before the aid? Obviously it was necessary to consider that real criminals (misnamed "delinquents" here) would take advantage of disaster, but no one seemed to distinguish between people needing goods and criminals. Why weren't the troops and/or police sent with a double mission of help and protection. Neighbors were shown at barricades forming protective groups wielding sticks and pipes to keep the criminals out of their neighborhoods. Troops & police should have been divided into those who worked with rescuers, those who protected neighborhoods, and those who made sure supplies arriving were safe from hijackers and bandits. Instead, Alan Garcia seemed more concerned with guarding businesses (many of which were destroyed anyway) than guarding civilians and getting aid to them. I can say this today as I just received a called from immigration to say that I now have

Peruvian Citizenship: It's been a rough road to this place, but now the bureaucratic agony is ended and I am a dual citizen; US and Peru. Now I can (no, must) vote in Peru. This is an easy procedure, but voting in the US federal elections is next to impossible. The procedure seems to be constructed to keep external citizens from voting at all. Since our US passports must be renewed in October we will see if the American Embassy can show us a simple way. The next step for me in Peru is to get my DNI, or national identity card, and then a Peruvian passport. Then I can return to Peru easily and use my US passport to go to NYC.

MAKING CHICHA BEER THE OLD WAY

Must fix these pictures. Still trying to figure it out.







Photos: 1) Tia Rosa's kitchen with chicha room in back at right, 2) chicha oven, 3) two stages of fermentation, 4) three stages of fermentation, 5) bottles ready to be filled, 6) workers buy & drink chicha at Tia Rosa's, 6) Kika says "delicious!"

CHICHA DE JORA (chicha from corn flour)

It is possible that chicha has been made in Perú since before the Incas. This post describes chicha as it has been made in Monsefú, Perú for at least 75 years. The chicha maker in the picture is Rosa Hemerajinda Chafloque Pisfil. “Tia Rosa” celebrated her 87^th birthday on January 13, 2007 (the picture was taken in 1986). She stopped making chicha about 8 years ago. Her chicha was very different from today’s chicha which is made in aluminum or stainless steel vats, uses sugar rather than molasses, and is bottled in plastic. Tia Rosa’s chicha was cooked in an oven of ceramic vats about 3 feet tall by 2 ½ feet wide at the top. The vats were tapered. The quantity made was enough for over 100 bottles.

Ingredients: corn flour (made from alazan corn, a reddish medium kernel corn, which was soaked in well water until it germinated, dried in the sun {this took days}, brought to the mill to be ground when thoroughly dry, and ground to a medium coarse grind), well water, and molasses from sugar cane.

Preparation: The germination and drying of the corn takes two to three days depending on the heat of the sun. In the ceramic vats 50 kilos of ground corn and about 8 gallons of water were added. This was brought to a boil over a wood fire inside the oven (see photo of oven). It was left to boil for 12 hours. Every time the boiling made foam, it had to be stirred with a wooden ladle. This was about every half hour. After 12 hours, it was left to sit without heat until it no longer showed any signs of boiling.

Next it was strained with a coarse cloth; shaking and then squeezing the cloth with one’s hands. The residue left in this cloth was squeezed through the hands until the dry residue was captured. This “afrecho” was given to the animals (pigs, chickens, ducks, etc.). The liquid from the hands was caught in a pot, sweetened with sugar, and given as a warm drink to children. Though the children were given this “chufla” for nutrition, adults liked it too. After this stage of straining the liquid it was left to cool for about 2 days. Then it is strained again with a finer cloth. The residue of this is called “ñuto.” This watery residue is heated, sweetened, and drunk. Sometimes cinnamon and apples are added.

Then the finely strained liquid in the vat was transferred to barrels (see photo) or taller ceramic vats and sweetened with about 4 gallons of molasses. This was left to rest in order that fermentation would begin. This took about 1-2 days. Then it was tasted for sweetness. More molasses was added if needed and it was left for a few hours to further ferment. When ready, it was poured into dark green or brown (glass) beer bottles and corked (see photo). The cork was tied with string so that the gass produced would not pop the cork. The bottles were left for two days. Both the taste and the potency could vary from cooking to cooking. If the bottles were left for more than 2 days its potency was increased. Sometimes bottles were buried in the ground for a month to produce a type of corn brandy. The sediment that formed at the bottom of the bottles was saved to use as a vinegar. The better the filtration, the less the sediment.

Chicha was generally drunk in small, dried halves of gourds which had decorations of leaves, flowers, and (sometimes) sayings burnt into the surface. Unfortunately, this delicious brew is no longer being made in this way.