Author: eaflucki

The past 6 weeks in Peru with my classmates have been an enlightening journey, delving into the intricate processes of “making and unmaking indigeneity in the Andes”. Our academic adventure took us from the bustling metropolis of Lima, through the historical heart of Cusco, and into the serene expanses of the Sacred Valley. Along this route, we observed how the expression of indigeneity transforms with geography and the implications this has on cultural preservation.

In Lima, we saw indigeneity through a lens of modernity and adaptation. The capital city, with its rapid urbanization and cosmopolitan lifestyle, presented us with a version of indigenous identity that is continually negotiating its place amidst contemporary influences. For me, indigeneity sometimes felt diluted, as traditional practices had to adapt to urban settings, they often lose some authenticity in the process.

As we moved from Lima to Cusco, the change was palpable. Cusco, once the capital of the Inca Empire, holds a deeper and more visible connection to its indigenous roots. The city’s architecture, festivals, and daily life echo with the remnants of its Incan heritage. In Cusco, indigeneity felt more integrated into the fabric of everyday life. The practices and traditions we observed were not only preserved but actively celebrated, giving us a richer understanding of what it means to maintain an indigenous identity in a modern world.

Our journey culminated in the Sacred Valley, where we encountered what felt like the most authentic forms of indigeneity such as the Kusy Kawsay School and the Amaru Community. The people here seem to live in closer harmony with their ancestral lands, and their cultural practices are less influenced by the pressures of urbanization. I think Pisac and Ollantaytambo offered us a glimpse into the spiritual and practical relationships that these communities maintain with their environment. Connection to place is crucial; it underpins their ability to sustain cultural practices that have been handed down through generations.

One of the highlights of our trip was the visit to Machu Picchu. While undeniably awe-inspiring, this experience was tinged with the recognition that it is a highly curated site for tourist consumption. However, Machu Picchu’s fame has brought significant attention and resources to the region, which has helped in preserving many aspects of indigenous culture. This duality—where tourism both supports and commercializes cultural heritage—was a recurring theme throughout our studies. It underscored the importance of being mindful as tourists about how we observe and engage with other cultures.

As we reflect on our journey, it’s clear that place plays a crucial role in the maintenance of indigenous culture. The further we traveled from urban centers, the more we engaged with practices that felt deeply rooted and less altered by external influences. This experience has taught us the value of approaching cultural tourism with sensitivity and respect, ensuring that our presence does not disrupt or diminish the very cultures we seek to understand.

My exploration of indigeneity in the Andes has been a profound educational experience and I am truly grateful to have had this opportunity. Please share your favorite experience from the past 6 weeks!!

“In my opinion, this lack of research, which led to speculation and misrepresentation regarding Sendero’s armed violence and the counterinsurgency response by the government was related to various factors, including surprise, fragmentation, postcolonial distancing, and fear” (Degregori 37).

Thus far, we have been the recipients of two separate lectures on this time in Peru’s history. While they converged on the main takeaways, that Shining Path was a terrorist group that took advantage of poor remote indigenous communities to achieve their political goals, I still felt confusion regarding how this group was able to gain so much power and hang onto it for so long! In “How Difficult it is to be God,” Carlos Iván Degregori explains why there’s so much confusion and misrepresentation around Sendero Luminoso’s (Shining Path) violence and the government’s response. He cites factors like surprise, fragmentation, postcolonial distancing, and fear. These factors help explain how Sendero Luminoso managed to gain and hold onto power, particularly affecting remote indigenous communities.

Sendero Luminoso’s rise in 1980 shocked many, including the Peruvian government. Their radical Maoist ideology and sudden violence took everyone by surprise. This insurgency spread quickly in rural areas where the government’s presence was weak and indigenous communities were neglected. This lack of clear information led to misunderstanding and speculation about what was really happening. For indigenous campesinos, this period was devastating. They were also unprepared for Sendero Luminoso’s brutal tactics and the government’s harsh countermeasures. These communities, already isolated and marginalized, suffered greatly from both sides. Sendero Luminoso exploited their grievances, but their methods—forced recruitment, punishment, and terror—were severe and uncompromising.

Degregori mentions “postcolonial distancing” to describe the lingering colonial attitudes that shaped how the Peruvian state dealt with its indigenous population. Historically, these communities were marginalized and their issues ignored or misunderstood by the central government and urban elites. Sendero Luminoso took advantage of this disconnect, claiming to fight for the oppressed. However, their violent tactics often hurt the very people they purported to help. Similarly, the government’s counterinsurgency, driven by a lack of understanding and empathy, resulted in violence and human rights abuses, further alienating indigenous communities.

Fear also played a huge role in this period. Sendero Luminoso’s terror tactics—executions, bombings, and assassinations—created widespread fear, stifling open discussion and accurate reporting. Journalists and researchers were often too scared to enter conflict zones or speak out against either side. In indigenous communities, fear was a constant. Sendero Luminoso’s violence forced compliance and participation, while fear of government reprisals led to further isolation. This climate of fear and misinformation prevented a nuanced understanding of the conflict and its impact on indigenous campesinos.

The legacy of Sendero Luminoso’s insurgency and the government’s response still affects Peru’s indigenous communities. The violence left deep scars, leading to mistrust, trauma, and ongoing socio-economic challenges. Efforts to reconcile and address these historical injustices are crucial but often hampered by the same factors Degregori highlighted.

I believe that understanding these dynamics is key to addressing the lingering effects of this dark chapter in Peru’s history and supporting the affected indigenous communities in their path to recovery. What is an important step for Peru to take to avoid a repeat of this tragedy?

“ Like other invented traditions, this production implied a conscious process of using the past to create a public ritual for political ends” (Cadena 157).

The Inti Raymi ( Festival of the Sun) is one of the most significant cultural events in Peru, and is rooted in the ancient traditions of the Inca civilization. While its historical origins date back centuries, the modern version of Inti Raymi that we see today is a product of reinvention that began in 1944. This reinvention was part of a broader effort to use Inca heritage as a tool for cultural and political identity, spearheaded by the neoindianista movement. While this revival has brought numerous benefits, it also carries its share of challenges and controversies. 

One benefit of the modern Inti Raymi is the crucial role it has played in reviving and preserving Inca traditions. By staging this festival, Peruvians have managed to keep alive the rich heritage of their ancestors, ensuring that younger generations remain connected to their cultural roots. The festival serves as a powerful symbol of national identity and pride. It reinforces the narrative of Peru as the heart of the Inca Empire, promoting a sense of unity and continuity from past to present. The festival also showcases the concept of mestizaje, celebrating the blend of indigenous and Spanish influences in modern Peruvian culture. Additionally, Inti Raymi has become a major tourist attraction, drawing thousands of visitors from around the world to Cusco annually. This influx of tourists has significantly boosted the local economy, providing income for businesses, hotels, restaurants, and artisans. Further, the festival offers educational opportunities for both locals and tourists. It provides insights into Inca history, religion, and societal structures, enriching the understanding of one of the most sophisticated pre-colonial civilizations in the Americas.

Though many cultural and economical goals have been achieved with the reinvention of Inti Raymi, it’s not without its drawbacks, one of which is its commercialization. Critics argue that the festival has become more of a spectacle for tourists than a genuine cultural ritual. This shift can sometimes detract from the authenticity and spiritual significance of the original ceremony. Also, the modern festival has been criticized for perpetuating historical and racial hierarchies. While it glorifies the Inca past, it often relegates contemporary indigenous people to subordinate roles, both in the festival and in broader societal contexts. This can reinforce stereotypes and social divisions rather than promote true inclusivity. Although the festival boosts the local economy, the benefits are not always evenly distributed. Large businesses and tourism operators likely reap the most significant rewards, while smaller vendors and local residents may not see the same level of economic benefit. Lastly, the influx of tourists and the large-scale nature of the festival can have negative environmental impacts on Cusco and its surrounding areas. Issues such as waste management, pollution, and the strain on local resources are growing concerns that need to be addressed.

Today, the legacy of the reinvented Inti Raymi continues to be felt in multiple ways. The festival remains a highlight on Peru’s cultural calendar, drawing attention to the enduring legacy of the Inca civilization. However, it also prompts ongoing discussions about the balance between cultural preservation and commercialization, the representation of indigenous people, and the sustainable management of cultural tourism. Please share your thoughts about your contemporary experience of Inti Raymi!

Yesterday I was lucky enough to attend a guided tour through parts of Ollantaytambo with a local resident, and our hotel manager, Jhon. I am so glad that I went and was very impressed with Jhon’s knowledge and pride regarding the history and customs of his ancestors. In fact he was so passionate about sharing his wisdom that this tour, which lasted 2+ hours, was offered free of charge (we tipped him of course). On our excursion Jhon covered several topics, including architectural styles, traditional farming/food (the guinea pig/cuy), and traditional food storage systems (qollqas).

Archetictural Styles:

Jhon showed us a door way that had 2 tiers/levels to it, and was constructed in an imperial style. He told us that this indicated that the people who live/lived here were important or of high nobility. This was contrasted with the unpolished stones along the corridor that only consisted of one level. Additionally, he told us about the various technology behind the stonework. Specifically that it was built to resist earthquakes and how the various designs lock in together. The picture below is an example of a flower design, where there is a central stone and the surrounding stones are selected or altered to fit perfectly around it.

Food and Farming:

The next stop on our tour was La Casa de Cuye (The Guinea Pig House) where we learned about some of the aspects of raising them for consumption. For example, guinea pigs reproduce 5:1 female to male. Because of this, the guinea pigs that are sold as food will always be female as male guinea pigs are needed to impregnate the females. We were able to observe the guinea pigs in pens and there is one male in a pen of about 10 females. A male is not introduced to the females until they are sexually mature which is around 5.5 months of age. Females are able to get pregnant again only 1 hour after giving birth! This made me feel bad for the females. It seem that life of the male is far better as they are destined to eat, play, and copulate, while females are relegated to endless pregnancies and/or slaughter for consumption. I must admit however, though guinea pig is not what I choose to eat, I quite enjoyed visiting the farm as we learned about the importance of the animal to the cultural practices of local communities and it appeared to be humane.

Food Storage:

For the last leg of our tour, Jhon led us up a trail to visit the abandoned ruins of the qollqas, the sophisticated storage system that indigenous communities used for crops such as corn and potatoes. Learning about these ruins was such an interesting experience. I was hard for me to imagine how it worked but with great effort from Jhon and Daniel’s translations, I think I have a rough idea. The crops were tossed through large open windows in the back. To retrieve them, there was a passage was in the front for walking. this passage included holes for ventilation near the floor to allow fresh air circulation so that the crops would not spoil. there was also some sort of shelving/drawer system so that the oldest crops were retrieved from the bottom which allowed regular rotation, once again to avoid spoilage.

I truly enjoyed this tour, primarily due to the fact that Jhon was so proud of his past culture and wanted to share it with us. Was this a more authentic indigenous experience because it was given voluntarily rather than through a company that is paid to deliver a curated experience to us?

Machu Picchu is without a doubt one of the most iconic archaeological sites in the world, and holds a unique position in history. As Mark Rice eloquently observes in Making Machu Picchu, “Unlike most historic sites visited by tourists, Machu Picchu is defined not by its prominence but by its relative absence in Peruvian history over three centuries. Indeed, Machu Picchu is arguably more famous for being ‘forgotten’ than known.” I was surprised to learn about this forgotten citadel’s rise to global prominence in the 20th century and the associated political motives and transnational efforts that were involved. I was even more surprised during our guided tour of the lost city, to discover that our local Peruvian guide told a similar tale, that Machu Picchu is not a particularly “special” Incan dwelling, but rather its fame comes from a unique set of circumstances that aligned to make it so. 

During the early 20th century, the promotion of tourism in South America became a strategic endeavor for several nations, including Peru. This was a period when the region aimed to rebrand itself, moving away from the dark memories of colonial exploitation and towards a future of economic growth and cultural recognition. Machu Picchu was “rediscovered” by Hiram Bingham in 1911, and became a symbol of this transformation. Its “forgotten” status was not seen as a disadvantage but rather a captivating narrative that intrigued both global audiences and scholars.

There were multiple political motivations behind promoting Machu Picchu as a tourist destination. For Peru, it was an opportunity to foster national pride and identity, leveraging the ancient Incan heritage to strengthen cultural cohesion. Additionally, the blossoming tourism industry was an opportunity for potential economic growth, which could drive infrastructure development and create jobs. Transnational contributions also played a significant role in this process. The United States specifically became very involved, driven partly by the Good Neighbor Policy introduced by President Franklin D. Roosevelt in 1933. This policy aimed to improve relations with Latin American countries through cooperation and mutual respect, while avoiding military interventions in favor of economic and cultural partnerships. Under the Good Neighbor Policy, various initiatives were launched to boost tourism in Latin America, with Machu Picchu benefiting considerably. American scholars, explorers, and tourists were encouraged to visit and study the site, bringing international attention and investment. The involvement of American institutions, such as National Geographic, which sponsored Bingham’s expeditions, further amplified Machu Picchu’s allure.

By the mid-20th century, Machu Picchu transformed from an obscure ruin into a symbol of Incan grandeur.  I can honestly say that I was very impressed at the initial sight of the citadel. As the tour advanced onward however, and our guide continued to emphasize the ordinary nature of the site, and contrasted it with the grandeur of the remaining ruins of Cusco, my initial awe gradually faded. I found myself wanting to return to Sacsayhuman and Qorichacha to better appreciate the more intricate stonework and the great labor that went into their creation.

Questions: What were your reactions to the great Machu Picchu? Did our readings or guided tour influence them?

“Since you’re a woman and can’t work as a peon, you must give up one of your tupus. Your daughter will come work as a cook in the monastery, and you’ll go work at the hacienda.” (p. 111)

Reading Gregorio’s and Asunta’s testimonios in “Andean Lives” was a profoundly moving experience. Their resilience in the face of relentless adversity is inspiring, yet the trauma they endured is deeply disturbing. Their stories, marked by loss, struggle, and the tenacity to survive, paint a vivid picture of the harsh realities faced by many in the Andes. While their accounts stirred a deep sense of empathy and sorrow, I cannot say I was surprised by the severity of their circumstances.

The quote above reveals stark gender disparities in the lived experiences of Gregorio and Asunta. Gregorio and Asunta’s narratives highlight how historical injustices, such as extractive colonialism and the exploitation and marginalization inherent in colonial practices have left lasting scars on men and women in indigenous communities. Unlike men, women like Asunta were often relegated to domestic or low(er)-wage work, further constraining their economic independence and opportunities for upward mobility or even self-autonomy.

Asunta’s testimonio is only a third of the length of Gregorio’s, which I believe reflects the limited job and life opportunities for women and societal expectations of women’s roles within the larger patriarchal framework. Indigenous women were expected to be attached to a man, bear children, and care for the family while generating income. This dual burden of domestic and economic responsibilities severely restricted their personal and professional growth.

Moreover, the physical toll of repeated pregnancies added to the hardships faced by women. Asunta endured the devastating loss of six of her seven children, compounding her emotional and physical trauma. Additionally, she suffered physical abuse at the hands of both her husbands, some of which was a result of the loss of young children and her ‘fault’ in it. Meanwhile Asunta’s miscarriage was a direct result of the physical abuse perpetrated by the hands of her first husband, which highlights the pervasive violence and exploitation faced by indigenous women.

Gregorio’s narrative, while also marked by struggle, demonstrates broader occupational opportunities and societal privileges granted to men. In contrast, Asunta’s experiences reflect a life of compounded difficulties shaped by both gender and socioeconomic inequalities. Her story is a powerful testament to the resilience of indigenous women, enduring multiple layers of oppression yet continuing to fight for survival and dignity.

These testimonios not only shed light on the personal struggles of Gregorio and Asunta but also underscore the broader, systemic issues that persist in the Andean region, as well as the gender disparities that persist within indigenous societies as they exist in the broader patriarchal framework. Their stories are a poignant reminder of the resilience of the human spirit and the enduring need for social and economic justice.

Questions: With such tremendous struggle and trauma endured by both men and women, is it appropriate to compare the two? Have women’s circumstances improved with expanding opportunities for women over time?

This past week we made a visit to the Andean community that is affiliated with the Associacion Kusi Kawsay. Though I felt tired and weak, as I spent the previous night sick with food poisoning, I did not want to miss out on this experience. Most days of our journey thus far, we have been bombarded with a ‘tourist-like’ experience that feels inescapable. This day, however, was a chance to get away from all of that and get a glimpse into the daily life of an average Andean community. Or at least that’s what I hoped for!

After a 45-ish minute bumpy bus ride that seemed to be going up, we were dropped on the side of the dirt road next to an open dirt field. After a bit of confused shuffling off the bus, we were ushered into the field where we were warmly greeted by half a dozen local-looking adults and one young child. With the exception of the child we were each embraced and kissed by each community member. As this is the standard greeting from many of my own distant family relatives, I felt comfortable, and genuinely welcomed into the community. Next we were directed to sit in a row in the field on a long narrow cloth that had been laid out for us. 

We were then given a brief description of the typical morning ritual of an Andean farmer, which is to carefully select 3 sacred coca leaves, blow on them to make an offering to the mountains (apus), and then to chew on them for energy. They said that it is typical for an Andean farmer to have a bowl of soup for breakfast and then to sustain themselves on nothing but the coca leaves all day until dinner time. This was supposedly advantageous to the Spanish landowners who worked them all day. Though I do not intend to be dismissive of the cultural and spiritual aspect of this statement, it did cross my mind that there are more balanced ways of nourishing oneself while performing manual labor… but I also recognize that this thought may be a direct result of my western-colonial upbringing. For the next 30 minutes, coca leaves (in sets of 3) were repeatedly passed to each of us to chew, as was a black rock which we were also told to gnaw on. It was some sort of carbon-mineral and was meant to ‘activate’ the coca leaves. 

This ceremonial session ended abruptly, at which time we were each dressed in traditional Andean clothing. Back in Canada this is considered cultural appropriation and I wouldn’t be caught dead doing so, but in this situation it would have been offensive not to accept the clothing. It was one of the ways that they welcomed us into their family. Suddenly heavy hand tools were being passed around and without any explanation we were put to work tilling the land. For me the clothing was very uncomfortable and dysfunctional for working in the hot sun, but they must feel differently or I can’t imagine they’d be using it; though I do think the male clothing was better suited to outdoor work than the female clothing. Unsure of what we were doing, why we were doing it, and when it would end, we clumsily struggled through the chores until lunchtime was announced. 

As I am over my 500 word limit and most of you were there with me I won’t go into the rest of the details of the day, except to say the the remainder of the experience was closer to what I expected (eg. traditional lunch, weaving demonstrations, and an opportunity to purchase handmade crafts). 

Points of discomfort/surprise for me were being dressed in their clothing, working in their clothing, and not knowing where my money (150 sols) was going as we didn’t pay them directly. I’ve been assured that much of the money goes to the community but I still find myself feeling skeptical which may also be a result of my wester-colonial upbringing. 

What were your points of discomfort? Do you think they are designed to be that way? Was this yet another ‘tourist’ experience?

“The reason why ‘Indians’ [are] dying,” explained a respected community leader, also condemned as a ‘witch-dogmatist,’ [is] because they no longer adore their malguis [ancestors] and guacas like their elders formerly did, which is why there used to be so many “Indians” who had more fields and clothing and who lived in greater tranquility” (Silverblatt 196).

In the seventeenth century Andes, indigenous people faced immense challenges, including high death rates, loss of land, and lack of resources. Amidst this turmoil, they turned to their ancestral beliefs and practices to find strength and resilience. This is where Indianism came in, a powerful movement that encouraged Andeans to reclaim their traditional ways and reject the Spanish colonizers’ influence. Silverblatt’s writings highlight how important it was for these communities to stick to their beliefs to hang onto their mental and physical health.

Community leaders at the time believed that the reason for their suffering was their abandonment of the gods and rituals of their ancestors in favor of the foreign gods of the Spanish. They thought that by returning to their old ways of worship, they could restore their community’s well-being. This wasn’t just about spirituality; it was also about keeping their culture and identity alive. The Andean way of life was deeply connected to their beliefs, influencing everything from their social structures to their farming practices. Sticking to these traditions likely helped them feel stable and connected, even in chaotic times.

Indianism brought people together, crossing social and gender lines. It united different parts of the Andean population under a common goal of justice and cultural revival. This unity was crucial for their survival, as it reinforced their shared identity and purpose. Even though the Spanish tried to impose their gods, Indianism persisted as a form of cultural resistance. By holding onto their traditions, the Andeans were able to preserve their sense of self and resist the psychological impact of colonialism.

Today, indigenous communities around the world face similar struggles. They deal with the pressures of modern society, loss of land, and threats to their traditional ways of life. The story of the Andeans reminds us of the importance of maintaining cultural practices. These traditions are not just about the past; they provide a sense of identity and resilience that can help communities navigate the challenges of today. For indigenous peoples, holding onto their beliefs and practices can be a powerful way to maintain mental, spitirual, and physical health, offering comfort and strength in difficult times.

This historical example shows us that cultural heritage is vital. It’s a source of strength and stability that can help people stay connected to their roots and face the future with confidence. 

Questions: What are some of the consequences of claiming an ‘othering’ identity? Are they different if the identity is imposed on an individual? 

Since the start of this course I’ve been wondering about the difference between the Inca’s expansion and conquest of other native groups, and the Spanish conquest of the Incas. During one class in Cusco, we entertained a brief discussion about the distinction between imperialism and colonialism. In José Carlos Mariátegui’s essay, “Outline of the Economic Revolution,” he dives into the complex history of Peru’s economy and may allude to some of the distinguishing factors. As I read his work, it became clear how the different conquests—Incan and Spanish—and their lasting effects have shaped Peru’s social and economic fabric.

The Inca Empire was a powerhouse of strategic organization and control. They conquered many different indigenous cultures, creating a vast and centralized empire. The Incas built extensive roads and advanced agricultural systems, which helped distribute resources and unify their territory. Their society was hierarchical, with a strong sense of communal living (primitive communism?). The ayllu system, based on reciprocal practices, ensured that everyone had what they needed. However, the Inca rule wasn’t without its downsides. Those who resisted were likely wiped out and tribes that submitted were often moved around, and their leaders were replaced with Inca officials to keep control. This centralization created a highly organized but rigid society where people had little chance for upward social mobility.

The Spanish conquest, on the other hand, turned everything upside down. They dismantled the Inca’s organized system and set up their own, focusing on extracting wealth, mainly gold and silver. The Spanish introduction of the encomienda system forced indigenous people to work for Spanish landowners, creating a feudal society. Also, a new social order based on race emerged, with the Spanish and their descendants at the top and indigenous people at the bottom. The economy became all about extraction and export, with little thought given to local development.

Further, the discovery of guano and nitrates in the 19th century Peru brought another big change. These materials were in high demand for agriculture and industry in Europe. However, much like during the Spanish rule, the wealth generated from guano and nitrates mostly benefited foreign interests and a small local elite. This boom created a new capitalist class in Peru, linked closely to the old aristocracy. The economy became dependent on these exports, and while some people got very rich, the majority of Peruvians saw little benefit.

When comparing the impacts of the Inca and Spanish conquests both greatly changed Peru’s society and economy, but in different ways. The Incas created a centralized, communal society, while the Spanish broke it apart and exploited its resources. The guano and nitrate boom continued this trend of extraction but also introduced capitalist elements, yet still favored foreign investors and local elites over the broader population. While each period left its mark, there seem to be clear distinctions between them. The Inca period was about unity and community, the Spanish period about exploitation and fragmentation, and the guano and nitrate era about economic dependency and inequality. Understanding these historical shifts helps us see why Peru is the way it is today.

Questions: Is there a distinction between imperial expansion and colonizing other nations? Does the economic impact have anything to do with it? Does the ‘race’ factor play an important role?

When I first checked the schedule and saw that we were spending 12 days in Pisac, I was surprised and wondered how we would fill our time in a tiny town with only a dozen streets!? It’s only been three days and I feel like I’ve had a weeks worth of experiences. Between the ancient ruins, the massive market, and the variety of ‘cultures’ to observe, Pisac has not failed to disappoint.

I have to say that exploring the ruins has been my favorite experience thus far. Though we were unable to procure a guide for the site, the small introduction that we were given was quite informative. I liked learning about the varied reasons for the location of the site including military strategy for sling shots, the structural use of the rocky mountain, cultivation of potatoes and quinoa, and that it’s distance from Cusco is how far a llama can walk in a day. The man who relayed this information seemed especially proud to inform us about the the ingenuity and sophistication of the Incan people. Jon and Daniel pointed out areas of the ruins that looked to be reconstructed and I wondered if that somehow in-authenticated the experience. After a very short deliberation I decided that it didn’t. Provided that the reconstruction is an accurate representation, it probably helps to preserve cultural history by maintaining the interest of tourists or ‘travelers’. I should also add that I am continuously blown away by the physical strength of the the Incans, and their ability to not just live at such high altitudes, but execute strenuous tasks such as construction, farming, war, etc… (I walked up again today and nearly turned around). I does surprise me that the Spanish were able to conquer such an impressive community. If they didn’t have fancy armor and horses, I don’t think they’d have stood a chance.

Aside from the ruins, my encounters with ‘indigeneity’ have been through the people on the streets and it seems that it is being marketed to us in one or another. While many of the locals seem to be selling the products of their practices (ie. food, crafts, clothes, art), those that appear to have relocated here from other parts of the world seem to be selling the indigenous experience to us (ie. womb healing sessions, spiritual awakenings, and more). It’s interesting to me that the majority of those who are selling the ‘experiences’ seem to be from afar. Do these new-aged products really help people? Are they in fact indigenous? Is it wrong for foreigners to be selling them?

I’d love to hear some thoughts on this!