week4—a Cat inspired me to write; animals of Peru interrupting, grounding, and fleeting—

week4—a Cat inspired me to write; animals of Peru interrupting, grounding, and fleeting—

experience blog #4 —

I am enticed by how community works here.

As I am writing this, I have been graced—and interrupted—with the presence of a stinky, cuddly, inefficient, and adorable cat. This sentence alone has taken me 20 minutes to write. As I sit here, locked in my position, a cat snoring and bubbling drool onto my last pieces of clean clothing, I wonder… whose damn cat is this? Where did she come from? Are those black dots on her belly dirt or fleas? Is this an orange cat or a slightly orange but mostly dust-covered cat?

Despite the many questions I have swirling in my head as this cat kneads the living shit out of me, one afterthought shadows… why should I care?

This interrupting cat’s presence is preventing me from doing productive work, but it is also forcing me to be present in the environment that I currently occupy. What else is there to do but listen, be consumed by my thoughts, and pet the damn cat? I sit, my muscles tightened to provide ample comfort for the smelly cat, my ears open to the music and noise in the plaza, and my mind left to linger on whatever pops in. The train of thought continues onto my other animal interactions I’ve had in Peru.

I feel like these animals reflect the nature of the city in a way.

Lima had many dogs being walked on leashes, dogs barking from terraces and balconies. Lima was very ordered in this way. My experiences were appreciative yet, this appreciation was done from a distance. Cusco was busy, bustling, frantic, and fleeting. Sometimes you would see a cat or meet a dog, but inevitably, action elsewhere drew their attention away. The city life is an exciting and hectic one—of which these animals know well.

For Pisac, the animals here feel most connective. Perhaps it is the way time moves slower here. Perhaps it is the small, tight-knit community ethos. Cars slow down when dogs want to cross; dogs look both ways before crossing the road… (sometimes). I’ve often seen many of the people and animals here multiple times—things feel more rooted here. Pisac has been reoccurring, bizarrely grounding, and leisurely familiarizing.

My time in Pisac has been much like these past few hours with this cat: slow, warm, friendly, somewhat annoying, and sometimes smelly. I have less options, less movement, and less autonomy, I’m stuck in this position and town, but paradoxically I feel driven to familiarize myself with the things in front of me. The things I see everyday, day after day. I wait, I read, I think, I see, I listen.

Again, a thought drips into my head the same way the cat drools on my shoe out of sheer comfort—whose damn cat is this? Previously to her nap escapades on Grace and I’s laps in the lounge, this cat was meowing on the roof of Pisac Inn. Esteban comes into the lounge, cappuccino in hand, and comes to say hi to the gato. Esteban proceeds to tell me the cat is probably from La Placita, the café next door. Apparently, the cat is good luck for the business.

I think about how these connections apply to the people here. I think about Noel, the artist who wanders around the plaza selling his art, and who has a studio a few doors down from the inn. I think about how Noel grew up in Amaru. I think about Niall who grew up in Pisac and Squamish, who graduated from Kusi Kawsay school, frequents Pisac Inn and knows all the staff members, knows Roxanne, Kelly, Esteban, and so on.

I think about how these connections have defined my experiences and interactions in Peru. Then, I think about the vitality of community in Indigeneity. I don’t know from who I’ve met is Indigenous, or if they would define themselves as so, but I know they are wholly tethered within this community. From the people and beings in Pisac, I’m learning to wait, sit, listen, and allow my thoughts to be. In Pisac, I think I am re-learning what community means.