Market Day

Market day in Urubamba. Beautiful, delicious, organic and oh so colorful. Always so much healthier here.

Wrinkles

"Wrinkles should merely indicate where smiles have been." Mark Twain is one of my favorites; but he falls short here. Wrinkles indicate a life lived. They are products of smiles, tears, anger, hardship, grief, joy, love and the range of emotions only gained through experience. This woman forever captivates my spirit. She was sitting in Amaru, Peru drinking homemade chicha (corn beer). By best buddy Yieber and I approached her and started chatting. Quechua being Yieber's first language provided us direct insight and instant connection. She spoke of a arduous life lived at high altitude, working in the fields, being a mother, a grandmother and just embodying what the human experience is for so many campesinas living in the high Andes. She even scolded me for not taking the glass of chicha with two hands and informed me, I wouldn't be having many babies if I continued accepting with one hand. Her countenance explains it all. Authentic. Straight forward. No complaints about being poor or living such a difficult, physical life....just a matter of fact attitude with some sagely advice intermixed. Here I sit, aware of my privilege. Consciously grateful to be able to travel to such places and hear other's experiences. The takeaway... infinite. I crave these interactions. Profound gratitude resides in my very core. I have fostered incredibly special relationships with people around the world who grew up very different than I did. They have shaped my perspectives and left an indelible sense of curiosity and compassion for the human spirit. I look up to those who have persevered through true adversity with a sense of dignity and generosity that is utterly remarkable and admirable. Those wrinkle aren't solely evidence of myriad smiles. They are boundless emotions worn on a face of a life lived. I hope one day, I'll have as many wrinkles.

Mystical Mountains

A mystical scene at camp in Carhuacocha as the clouds lift after dumping snow up high and a solid 2-3 inches of cold rain in just a few hours time. Aniseto, our horseman returns from checking on our burros grazing above to make sure they hadn’t gone too far.

86 Years Lived

Navarra 86 years old in Llamac. She remembered me from years past and I stopped in to say hello. She looks quite serious here but is full of laughter and life. I told her I'd visit her again in just a couple weeks to check in. You can see the mountains tattered on her skin. It's beautiful. It's resilient. It ain't easy.

Serapio Vargas and Juan Carlos

I take a seat on a sunny morning in the Plaza de Armas in Cusco to do a bit of people watching. It's become a bit of a circus these days with the touristy gimmicks and street peddlers coming up to you every 5 seconds, but there's still an allure with this beautiful and vibrant square. A few moments pass, an older man sits next to me to take a break. I notice he's one of the photographers that works in the plaza snapping photos of tourists and printing it on the spot or emailing them digital files for a nominal fee. I'm drawn to this fella for some reason. His aura tacitly screams countless stories, but at first, I'm slightly trepidatious to engage. I want to absorb the moment and feel into it...but that doesn't last long. I ask him "How long have you been working here?" He responds "70 years." I think for a moment he misunderstood my question... and he's giving me his age, so I ask again. A moment passes, and he responds 70 years. I'm instantly in awe. My mind races with the living history I'm sitting next to. Yes, this man has stories...many of them. And I want to sit with him and absorb as many as I can. What's your name, I ask? He responds, "Serapio Vargas." How old are you might I ask Serapio?" "One year until 100." He responds. My mind is racing. Here I am sitting next to a photographer who's worked in this very plaza for 70 years and has experienced this world for 99. He lived during the same time as the iconic Peruvian photographer Martin Chambi. I've studied Chambi's photos for endless hours absorbing them into the fabric of my being and fascination with the Andes. We chat for the next hour or so. I buy Serapio a ice slushy as a gift for his time but more so "it just felt right." We talk with pauses of 10 minutes of silence in between thoughts. After all, we are both photographers and are generally observers versus talkers. The silence is a beautiful thing. It gives me time in the present to reflect and ground myself into this fortuitous and beautiful encounter. I show him my camera. He picks up, holds it up to his eye and presses the shutter once. "Wow, it's heavy he says. I can't hold cameras that heavy anymore! But it sure is a nice one!" He shows me his aging more compact Canon which is held together by many pieces of duct tape. I too snap a photo or two for the fun of it. I ask him about his history with photography. "I've dedicated myself to photography since 1952. I became interested in it as a way to capture my children growing up and the memories. I found that I loved it and taught myself everything I could about it. I started working here in the plaza 70 years ago taking photos for people. I've been here longer than any of the other photographers. I enjoy coming to the square every day, because I like it. I meet friends and lots of new people. A lot has changed in my time here. Cusco used to be a quiet city. Now it's very busy and lots of tourists...." I interrupt, Did you like it more back then or now?" "Oh back then!" It was so peaceful and the air was fresh. Life was much quieter." He continues...But I still enjoy coming here to work everyday; however, almost everyone has a cell phone now and our work has dropped 70%. But I still love to capture memories for people and work brings me purpose. I receive 5 soles per photo (About $1.25). It's not much, but it supports me." I walk a few blocks from here and get the photos printed and bring them back to people." I'm here 9am-5pm almost everyday. My family has told me to stop working and rest, but I'll work until my last day on earth." A few moments later, another photographer walks up and introduces him self as Juan Carlos. He's one of Serapio's sons. He too works as a photographer here in the plaza and keeps an eye on his father. Juan Carlos is a delight. He deserves his own outright post and story. We talk about the changing nature of Cusco, the challenges to cultural traditions, politics and his relationship with photography and his dad and how lucky he is to have had his father in his life for so long. Juan Carlos pulls over a vendor and buys us all a juice. He wants nothing for it. It's a gift, or for him "it just feels right." We all offer a "Salud" as we clink glasses together before pouring out a tiny amount to offer to pachamama (mother earth). We continue to chat for awhile, and I ask to take a few photos of these men. A photographer taking photos of photographers. A treasure. I felt giddy inside. This is what it's all about, I screamed inside. I took down Juan Carlos's email and have since sent him several photos as those special family memories. It all comes full circle.....and alludes to the power of imagery and the experiences and stories it gives us in this world. I told Serapio next year when I visit, I will hope to see him to celebrate his 100th birthday and to learn more about his story. It's one I really I hope I have the opportunity to pursue and honor his life and work... Hopefully, this is to be continued....

Basilia at Home

Basilia sits in her home in Chonta as we all gather for a simple breakfast and morning conversations. Her family asked me to get some photos her… as she’s in her later 80s now, and they want to make sure they have images of her. I’ve known her for 6 years or so, and I’ve seen her slow down, but just after I took this photo and returned to the house I was staying, I saw her quickly walk by the dirt road with a bundle of firewood that must have weighed 20 pounds. A tough and resilient woman indicative of so many in the high Andes.

Chonta Morning

Mornings in Chonta. Wake up to the sounds of roosters cackawwwing, the songbirds dancing across the flowers, the fresh, cool dry mountain air tickling your face, and the faint sounds of baaaaah as the sheep are shepherded to the fields for a day of grazing. It's a daily scene in a small mountain community in the Peruvian Andes. Life is simple here. To many of us, it’s lackluster. It's difficult. It's connected. Here, a family heads out in the early morning taking the sheep to the pampa. The boy kicks his soccer ball, the girl plays with the dogs and mom chugs along stoically but with intention. Soon after I captured this photo, they sat down to eat soup...and before taking a bite, they brought it over to me and offered me some first. Whattt? A family that has very little offering what they have to a gringo riding his fancy mountain bike down the road. I happily obliged and enjoyed a 20 minute conversation with them about their animals, life and teaching a few English words to the children. Remarkable how generous and connected with the land these folks truly are. It's spiritual and special. We should all take note.

Back Breaking Work

Back-breaking work. A woman work's her family's salt pool in Maras, Peru. She is squeezing the moisture out of the salt before letting it sit out in the sun to dry. This salt mine has been worked since Inca times owned cooperatively among the families of Maras. The salt comes from a subterranean stream. The water comes out at a spring by the mines. The flow is channeled into many tiny canals that direct the water gradually downslope to the numerous terraced pools. Almost all the pools are less than four meters square in area, and none exceeds thirty centimeters in depth. They are shaped into polygons with the flow of water carefully controlled and monitored by the workers. The altitude of the pools slowly decreases, so that the water may flow through the myriad branches of the water-supply channels and be introduced slowly through a notch in one sidewall of each pond.

All In A Day's Work

All in a day's work at over 14k feet. No matter the weather. Life is tough here. No getting around that but there’s a beauty to it that we all can resonate with or crave just a bit more of.

Hardened Hands

You don't always have to capture someone's face to tell their story. Hands reflect a life lived. Here, Basilia organizes the various Ullucus into several piles. One for her soups. One for seeding and one for feeding the pigs.

Passing Time

An elder in the remote outpost of Huayallpa sits outside her home passing the time. Life is slower here...the world seemingly small. It's a life many of us have a tough time imagining.

Juliana and Alex

Alex (1 year old) on his mother Juliana's back. Juliana comes down to Ollantaytambo from a remote community at 14,000 feet every week and stays for 3 days in a small rental unit selling her handicrafts in town. Time spent away from her husband and farming fields just trying to make ends meet. . .

La Jefa with Cuy

Laughter permeates the quiet tucked away cobble stone alley on the ancient streets of Ollantaytambo. Yieber quips, “I think people are drinking Chicha.” He walks over to an unassuming door and smiles. A group of locals is gathered in an open courtyard chicharia at a woman’s house. She sits proudly underneath family photos, dried corn, ojotas pinned on the wall (tire sandals) and other fun heirlooms. Beside her is a huge qeros (the vat where they make and store chicha). We are cordially invited in. She pours us a couple cups of corn beer which requires two hands to hold. There’s a group of locals curiously watching us …two gringos and Yieber). There’s also an entertainment party of four drunk stooges mumbling all kinds of gibberish ranging from imitating Vladimir Putin to one saying he can drink a ton because his intestine is 25 meters long. The Jefa, or woman who runs the place has a cordial yet strong presence. She’s in charge and everyone knows it. It’s my kinda scene. Such a fun place to stumble upon. I live for these experiences. We hear cuys…guinea pigs in the room scrambling on the floor in the next room over. I ask the Jefa if she can show Lindsay them as Lindz has wanted to try eating this cute local delicacy. She happily takes us into the room and I ask for a photo. She quickly grabs two cuys from the floor and hold them proudly. Lindsay says they are so cute. The woman replies with a wry smile…’yes….and they are delicious!” We laughed joking about them for the next few minutes…Lindz decided to hold off on trying the cuy for now.

Keeping Tradition Alive

Demonstrating traditional weaving techniques in Chinchero at the Center for Textiles. Stunning work and mesmerizing work. Each weaving incorporates a story, utilizes natural dyes, completely hand woven and an incredible homage to a fascinating and intricate tradition.

Soul of a Child

This picture was taken in the small Amazon community of Asuncion de Quiquibey in Bolivia. There's no way for me to ever know what this little girl was thinking but you're moved be her presence.

All Smiles

"The world in which you were born is just one model of reality. Other cultures are not failed attempts at being you; they are unique manifestations of the human spirit.” Wade Davis Aunt and niece high in the Andes beneath the sacred peak Apu Ausangate. Salt of the earth people.

Sheep Herders

A family heads out of the small community of Chonta behind their hundreds of sheep who have already rounded the corner. They are heading to greener pastures for the day for the animals to graze. Sitting and being patient is part of life. They will wait 8 hours with the sheep before taking them back to their community at dusk.

Basilia

Basilia, 83 years old. Grandmother of my second family member Carolina. A powerful soul who lives by herself in Chonta and takes care of everything on her own. She still rides a horse to go check on the cows, takes the sheep to graze, maintains a garden, tends to the chickens, weaves beautiful tapestries, makes chicha (corn beer), cooks and is almost completely self sustainable. Remarkable. An encyclopedia of ancient traditions and true connection with the land.

Tomas

Tomás, a shaman who hails from the remote homeland of the Q’eros sits in Pisac overwhelmed by the noises and actions of the street. Since the Qero’s have become more we’ll known for their healing powers and mystique among travelers and backpackers...many of them have ventured out of their remote homes in the Andes to try and eek out a living by providing various rituals most famously Ayahuasca ceremonies. It’s a slippery slope of commodifying culture but also a way to perhaps share and preserve their traditions while also allowing them a viable outlet to use their ancient knowledge to make out a living.

Chonta Greetings

6:30 in the morning for a stroll in Chonta, this man rides a steep precipitous hill to pull up next to me. “Hola amigo, buenos dias. Estas tomando fotos? I reply. “Buenos dias senor. Si estoy tomando fotos de la naturaleza y tu pueblito.” “Ahhh”, he seems very intrigued. “Saca una foto en mi caballo. Nosotros somos muy guapos y fuertes.” I say of course. I direct him into position a bit with the beautiful green foggy morning light. I snap a few photos and he’s more than happy with how he and his horse look, saying they indeed do look very handsome. We spend a few more minutes chatting, and I tell him the families I’m staying with, how many years I’ve been coming here and how his small community has really impacted me and it’s amazing beauty. He says he was up at 3:30 and rode down to check on the animals and small farming plots. He points to where they are, and they look impossibly difficult to get to and probably 4-5,000 feet down the steep cliffs. Just another humble morning for him and his incredible and steady animal. I’m in awe of what he’s already accomplished by 6:30. I thought I was early out of the gate out for a walk. With a tip of the hat and quick nod he says, “nos vemos la proxima caballero.” He adds...I’m welcome to join him another morning. I might take him up on that, but I’m a novice horse rider at best. Guess we’ll see on my next visit. Knowing me, I’ll give it a go and be humbled per usual with an insatiable respect for this land and it’s people. It’s all about learning, experiencing, connecting and presence. A lifelong quest.

Twirl

Weekends in Cusco are for dancing, music and color explosions in the streets. Slowing the shutter down a bit to capture some of the energy and motion. La Morenada. This dance comes from Bolivia. It's believed to stem from a mixture of African and indigenous roots. Similar to the United States, Africans were enslaved in the silver mines in Potosi. These dances were created as forms of expression and to sustain through incredible hardship.