Next stop, Huancabamba, straying from the coast of Peru, into the mountains. We drove into the misty mountains, eventually rising over the clouds. I arrived at night, and the darker it became, I only had my imagination to fill-in-the-blanks about the cliff drop at the side of the road and the waterfalls we passed. We climbed higher still, then just the shadows, moon, and stars could be seen.
At one point before reaching the town we had to get off the bus and walk for awhile because there was a narrow stretch on the road and our bus had difficulty squeezing by two trucks. We got back on the bus shortly after to head down the hill into Huancabamba. A night parade for Semana Santa briefly blocked our arrival at the bus station.
Two curiosities for me about Huancabamba were that it's a famous place for Peruvians to visit shamans, yet few foreigners come, and that the surrounding mountains and lagoons are beautiful. And I ended up deciding to visit Huancabamba and meeting my curiosities thoroughly. It was one of the strangest experiences I've had.
Shopping for shamans turned out to be a lot of work for me.
It's definitely got that small town feel, with 123,349 inhabitants, and many living in the rural outskirts of the town. People sit in the lazy plaza, or on the doorsteps of their house or shop and watch people or cars pass by. Farm animals roam yards and roads with the illusion of freedom, and people nap on a grassy hill in their yard.
From what I'd read, I heard that you should do your shaman research by asking around - don't just choose the first one you find. And so my search began.
Staff at my dingy hotel on the edge of the plaza recommended I go to the bus terminal to seek further information. When I went and asked there a driver flagged me down and told me to go with him to a shaman's house nearby. It was definitely odd, but I ended up going with him as I'd heard it was common to visit shamam in their home.
A short drive into the forest took us to the house of shaman Jorge Aponte. We went into his ceremonial room with cement walls, and display of shells, bottles of perfume, swords, and other tools. He was wearing a brown poncho and a kind of cowboy hat.
Long story short, I didn't opt for Jorge. Both he and chauffeur Reyes were a little too eager, and the price on offer was over three times the going rate. Not to mention, Mr. Aponte was taken aback when I started to interview him about his experience. He told me he had 22 years of experience, but people I spoke with in Huancabamba told me he only has 5 years and that he's a borracho (drunk).
I next went to the municipality and spoke with a very helpful staff member who recommended a few shamans and showed me a small exhibit about the history and customs of shamanism in Huancabamba.
I spent more hours wandering around the town exploring and talking with locals about shamans and the Huaringas (the lagoons where people go to 'cure' or cleanse themselves with the help of the shamans).
I ended up meeting 3 other shamans that day, but one of them wasn't available as he was going away for Semana Santa. Between all of the confident recommendations I'd heard, I was starting to get confused about who to choose. Some shamans had a fixed rate, others said I could pay whatever I wanted.
By afternoon I realized that I needed to get more money from an ATM if I wanted to go through with the shaman experience. That's when I discovered that the town only has 2 machines, only one accepts international cards, and that one was currently out of service. Yay!
Considering my options, I could have waited to see if the machine would start up again. However, seeing that it was an important holiday and many places were already closed, I made a last minute decision to hop on a 6-hour bus back to Piura.
The good things were that the bus was nearly empty = comfy me, upbeat music was on the CD player, and I got to see this breathtaking sunset above the clouds.
I arrived in Piura late at night, took a taxi to a hotel with poor air circulation and loud lounge TV all night, and attempted to sleep. Early the next morning after using an ATM, I was on a 6 hour bus ride back to Huancabamba.
chirimoya
The buses here stop mid-journey for a meal. It's nice in a way, but it adds more time to the journey
After more small troubles and miscommunication, I finally arranged to have José Garcia as my shaman, both to guide me to the lagoons and in a ceremony.
José said I could stay at his house from then on. It sounds really weird, and it kind of is, but I'd read of other accounts where people did the same.
In the basement of his family's home were 6 beds, a TV inside, and a bathroom outside with the turkeys, ducks, chickens, parrots, cat, and dogs.
Admittedly, the lock on the exterior of the door is creepy.
José invited me to eat with his wife and 4 kids each meal. It was a nice change from snacking on popcorn.
Me and the 4 and 8 year old daughters picking our noses in my bed. I don't think they realized I couldn't understand everything they said.
The 8 year old was responsible and mature, while the 4 year old was a little rambunctious, doing things she shouldn't be doing. One of those thing was massaging bottled water into my hair, and later her own spit when the water was gone.
At about 6am the next day, José, a driver and I ventured to Laguna Negra (one of the two most popular Huaringas) by car. It took about two hours, but we stopped in between at Salalá for breakfast at José's sister's house for breakfast.
I'm glad I had this guy leading my horse up to the lagoon as it was freezing with rain & strong winds threatening to knock everything out of place. I don't know he passed through the muddy sections with his shoes.
Its amazing how natural this guy looks dousing himself in freezing water after spending half an hour by horse in bone-shaking winds. I heard the elevation here is over 3,500m.
I'm not even in the water and I can't feel much of my toes.
Pre-bathing ceremony involved José chanting, dipping swords into the lake, drinking then spitting various perfumes on me, playing a whistle-like instrument, and eating half an orange.
José and the driver also used a small horn or a shell to drink a combo of tobacco and aguardiente, but they drank the liquid with their nose. That's when I knew this would be a memorable, unique experience.
Also unique, stripping down to your undies in front of 3 men at a freezing lake high in the windy mountains of Peru and climbing into a lagoon. I had to completely emmerse my hair, and they didn't let me dry it with my towel.
Climbing out to dry off and put my clothes back on reminded me a bit of the polar bear swim in Vancouver. It takes time to put everything back on when you're shaking, questioning your sanity yet again.
Afterward, we headed back to Huancabamba. The ceremony was at 9pm, so I had some time to kill in between. I tried to take a nap but two girls climbed into my bed and I didn't get a wink of sleep, though I did get a lot of photos.
The ceremony was held in the dark from 9pm-5am in a room at José's house. With me, the driver, his wife, his mother-in-law, and his two kids (however, both snored through much of the ceremony).
The ceremony involved many components like the one at the lagoon, as well as others. We drank San Pedro Cactus, aguardiente, and other liquids. After the bitter SPC we sat for an hour in meditative silence.
I know the whole 'when in Rome' thing, but I didn't feel up to drinking tobacco and aguardiente through my nose. Luckily, José drank on my behalf. I won't forget the sounds of hearing multiple noses around me in the dark slurping and pacing their breath to suck up liquids.
Another part of the ceremony involves your body being outlined by swords while José chants. This is also a personal one-on-one separate session where José asks you personal questions and gives you shamanistic advice.
There was an awful lot of perfume spitting, and it gets in your hair, on your chest, and all over your clothes and hands.
As the night progressed, there was a lot more talking between us, mostly about problems, illness, and what had to be done.
Some of José's advice for the night included taking medicinal herbs, getting surgery to prevent getting pregnant, and making sure to hold steady employment. It came out that our driver had been struggling to make ends meet and support his family. I hope José gave the driver a fair portion of pay.
Apparently a lot of people come to get 'cured' by the magical waters of the lagoons and shamans, or 'curanderos.' As they told me, seeing a shaman is supposed to be a 'limpieza' and a 'florecimiento' (a cleaning and a flowering).
One of the most interesting aspects of my experience was to see how the community and shamans interact. Everyone I spoke with in Huancabamba truly believed in the healing properties of the lagoons and the expertise of the shamans. The whole thing was akin to a group therapy session in a way. I'm sure there are plenty of people who are quick to scoff at shamanism, but from here I've seen that it can act as a mechanism of hope when times are dim. People need to turn to something or someone, whether it be religion, an idea, a goal in the future, or another human being. I think we could all learn a little more each day if we put ourselves in a different environment without the bucket of preconceptions and judgments. You just never know what you'll take away ;)
José
At one point before reaching the town we had to get off the bus and walk for awhile because there was a narrow stretch on the road and our bus had difficulty squeezing by two trucks. We got back on the bus shortly after to head down the hill into Huancabamba. A night parade for Semana Santa briefly blocked our arrival at the bus station.
Two curiosities for me about Huancabamba were that it's a famous place for Peruvians to visit shamans, yet few foreigners come, and that the surrounding mountains and lagoons are beautiful. And I ended up deciding to visit Huancabamba and meeting my curiosities thoroughly. It was one of the strangest experiences I've had.
Shopping for shamans turned out to be a lot of work for me.
It's definitely got that small town feel, with 123,349 inhabitants, and many living in the rural outskirts of the town. People sit in the lazy plaza, or on the doorsteps of their house or shop and watch people or cars pass by. Farm animals roam yards and roads with the illusion of freedom, and people nap on a grassy hill in their yard.
From what I'd read, I heard that you should do your shaman research by asking around - don't just choose the first one you find. And so my search began.
Staff at my dingy hotel on the edge of the plaza recommended I go to the bus terminal to seek further information. When I went and asked there a driver flagged me down and told me to go with him to a shaman's house nearby. It was definitely odd, but I ended up going with him as I'd heard it was common to visit shamam in their home.
A short drive into the forest took us to the house of shaman Jorge Aponte. We went into his ceremonial room with cement walls, and display of shells, bottles of perfume, swords, and other tools. He was wearing a brown poncho and a kind of cowboy hat.
Long story short, I didn't opt for Jorge. Both he and chauffeur Reyes were a little too eager, and the price on offer was over three times the going rate. Not to mention, Mr. Aponte was taken aback when I started to interview him about his experience. He told me he had 22 years of experience, but people I spoke with in Huancabamba told me he only has 5 years and that he's a borracho (drunk).
I next went to the municipality and spoke with a very helpful staff member who recommended a few shamans and showed me a small exhibit about the history and customs of shamanism in Huancabamba.
I spent more hours wandering around the town exploring and talking with locals about shamans and the Huaringas (the lagoons where people go to 'cure' or cleanse themselves with the help of the shamans).
I ended up meeting 3 other shamans that day, but one of them wasn't available as he was going away for Semana Santa. Between all of the confident recommendations I'd heard, I was starting to get confused about who to choose. Some shamans had a fixed rate, others said I could pay whatever I wanted.
By afternoon I realized that I needed to get more money from an ATM if I wanted to go through with the shaman experience. That's when I discovered that the town only has 2 machines, only one accepts international cards, and that one was currently out of service. Yay!
Considering my options, I could have waited to see if the machine would start up again. However, seeing that it was an important holiday and many places were already closed, I made a last minute decision to hop on a 6-hour bus back to Piura.
The good things were that the bus was nearly empty = comfy me, upbeat music was on the CD player, and I got to see this breathtaking sunset above the clouds.
I arrived in Piura late at night, took a taxi to a hotel with poor air circulation and loud lounge TV all night, and attempted to sleep. Early the next morning after using an ATM, I was on a 6 hour bus ride back to Huancabamba.
chirimoya
The buses here stop mid-journey for a meal. It's nice in a way, but it adds more time to the journey
It was hard to find food for a vegetarian here, and on this day even more so as nearly every food place was closed for the holiday. I had to snack on things like popcorn, bananas, and cookies for the day.
View of the plaza from my hotel terrace:
After more small troubles and miscommunication, I finally arranged to have José Garcia as my shaman, both to guide me to the lagoons and in a ceremony.
José said I could stay at his house from then on. It sounds really weird, and it kind of is, but I'd read of other accounts where people did the same.
In the basement of his family's home were 6 beds, a TV inside, and a bathroom outside with the turkeys, ducks, chickens, parrots, cat, and dogs.
Admittedly, the lock on the exterior of the door is creepy.
José invited me to eat with his wife and 4 kids each meal. It was a nice change from snacking on popcorn.
Me and the 4 and 8 year old daughters picking our noses in my bed. I don't think they realized I couldn't understand everything they said.
The 8 year old was responsible and mature, while the 4 year old was a little rambunctious, doing things she shouldn't be doing. One of those thing was massaging bottled water into my hair, and later her own spit when the water was gone.
At about 6am the next day, José, a driver and I ventured to Laguna Negra (one of the two most popular Huaringas) by car. It took about two hours, but we stopped in between at Salalá for breakfast at José's sister's house for breakfast.
José spotted an owl along the way, and it wasn't on Justin Bieber's arm.
You can't access the lagoons directly by car since the path is even further uphill, bumpy with rocks, muddy & narrow. That makes it more appealing, wouldn't you say?
We drove up to the base of the trail where you can rent horses or donkeys to reach the lagoon. The people started chasing our car, seeing who could reach us first.
I'm glad I had this guy leading my horse up to the lagoon as it was freezing with rain & strong winds threatening to knock everything out of place. I don't know he passed through the muddy sections with his shoes.
Laguna Negra
Its amazing how natural this guy looks dousing himself in freezing water after spending half an hour by horse in bone-shaking winds. I heard the elevation here is over 3,500m.
I'm not even in the water and I can't feel much of my toes.
Pre-bathing ceremony involved José chanting, dipping swords into the lake, drinking then spitting various perfumes on me, playing a whistle-like instrument, and eating half an orange.
José and the driver also used a small horn or a shell to drink a combo of tobacco and aguardiente, but they drank the liquid with their nose. That's when I knew this would be a memorable, unique experience.
Also unique, stripping down to your undies in front of 3 men at a freezing lake high in the windy mountains of Peru and climbing into a lagoon. I had to completely emmerse my hair, and they didn't let me dry it with my towel.
Climbing out to dry off and put my clothes back on reminded me a bit of the polar bear swim in Vancouver. It takes time to put everything back on when you're shaking, questioning your sanity yet again.
The ceremony was held in the dark from 9pm-5am in a room at José's house. With me, the driver, his wife, his mother-in-law, and his two kids (however, both snored through much of the ceremony).
The ceremony involved many components like the one at the lagoon, as well as others. We drank San Pedro Cactus, aguardiente, and other liquids. After the bitter SPC we sat for an hour in meditative silence.
I know the whole 'when in Rome' thing, but I didn't feel up to drinking tobacco and aguardiente through my nose. Luckily, José drank on my behalf. I won't forget the sounds of hearing multiple noses around me in the dark slurping and pacing their breath to suck up liquids.
Another part of the ceremony involves your body being outlined by swords while José chants. This is also a personal one-on-one separate session where José asks you personal questions and gives you shamanistic advice.
There was an awful lot of perfume spitting, and it gets in your hair, on your chest, and all over your clothes and hands.
As the night progressed, there was a lot more talking between us, mostly about problems, illness, and what had to be done.
Some of José's advice for the night included taking medicinal herbs, getting surgery to prevent getting pregnant, and making sure to hold steady employment. It came out that our driver had been struggling to make ends meet and support his family. I hope José gave the driver a fair portion of pay.
Apparently a lot of people come to get 'cured' by the magical waters of the lagoons and shamans, or 'curanderos.' As they told me, seeing a shaman is supposed to be a 'limpieza' and a 'florecimiento' (a cleaning and a flowering).
One of the most interesting aspects of my experience was to see how the community and shamans interact. Everyone I spoke with in Huancabamba truly believed in the healing properties of the lagoons and the expertise of the shamans. The whole thing was akin to a group therapy session in a way. I'm sure there are plenty of people who are quick to scoff at shamanism, but from here I've seen that it can act as a mechanism of hope when times are dim. People need to turn to something or someone, whether it be religion, an idea, a goal in the future, or another human being. I think we could all learn a little more each day if we put ourselves in a different environment without the bucket of preconceptions and judgments. You just never know what you'll take away ;)
José
Me, on the bus again back to Piura for another 6 hours.
That was an unexpected 5 nights or so in Huancabamba. The whole time I was there I didn't see another foreigner.
Well, I can at least say that the more problems I have, the more I get to practice my Spanish.
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