Following the quarter-final stage, the World Cup has already turned into rather a disappointment for me - perhaps I was naiive to expect things to be different this time.
The second round of matches, were, as the weather report used to say, a mixed bag.
The Argentina-Mexico clash was an excellent, absorbing game. Mexico were for periods the better side - they closed down Argentina's passing game, counter-attacked at pace, and can count themselves unlucky to go out to Maxi Rodriguez's wonder goal in extra time.
The Portugal-Holland match, which ended with nine players on both sides, was derided by some as a disgrace and a near farce. But in between the cards and controversies, I thought it was dramatic and entertaining, and there was three times as much skillful football as in the entire England-Ecuador match.
The flurry of red and yellow cards was partly due to loss of control by both teams, and partly to over-officious refereeing. In terms of actual fouls, it was nothing close to as bad as, say, a River Plate-Boca Juniors derby - as Portuguese coach Luis Felipe Scolari candidly acknowledged, saying “I'm used to that; I've coached in the Copa Libertadores” (S.American club championship).
Ukraine-Switzerland I understand was a predictable bore. I also found the Italy-Australia game very frustrating, in that Italy were patently the more talented side but constrained by a nervous lack of ambition. It was a great adventure for Australia, but in the second half, against ten men, they never looked like scoring.
Spain against France was, in the manner of things to come, a game of considerable skill but little incision. As I mentioned in my previous post, it wasn't a great surprise to see the experienced French shut out Spain’s pretty passing game and hurt them on the break.
When all the dust had settled, there still looked to be three classic match-ups in store for the quarter-finals, plus a chance for Italy to continue their sleepwalk into the semi-finals against Ukraine.
Italy duly obliged, with a 3-0 win suggesting that they are moving into their stride at the right time.
But the other matches were ultra-cautious battles of attrition played by teams afraid to lose. Three goals were scored in three games - from a corner, throw-in, and free kick - and two of the matches were decided by penalties.
The best of the bunch was probably France-Brazil, if only for the impressive performance of the French, and the heartening fact that a guy two years older than me – Zinedine Zidane – was easily the best player on the field. But it was rather depressing to see the much-vaunted Brazil show absolutely nothing, their “marvellous quartet” feeble and anonymous.
Great things weren't really expected from England and Portugal, who duly obliged with a 0-0 stalemate. The obligatory controversial sending-off / brave English battle with 10 men / penalty shoot-out debacle was so predictable it makes you groan. Someone come up with a new script, please!
But perhaps the biggest disappointment of all was the Germany-Argentina match. This should have been a classic, between the two teams who had impressed most to date. Instead, we saw a cagey, conservative encounter which was tense, but ultimately pretty dull.
There was always a good chance that Germany's resilience and power, with home support, would overcome even the best of teams. But Argentina should at least have made an attempt to overwhelm them with skilfull, attacking football. As it was, they knocked square balls around with excruciating caution for most of the first half, and hardly created a shooting opportunity.
They still managed to nick a 1-0 lead midway through the second half, with a header from a corner. But then, in a disastrous loss of moral courage, Argentinean coach Jose Pekerman decided that they were going to be Italy. With 25 minutes still remaining, he pulled off Juan Roman Riquelme for defensive midfielder Esteban Cambiasso and brought on the ineffectual Julio Cruz for Hernan Crespo. With an injury to the goalkeeper, all the subs were used up, and exciting young Lionel Messi had no chance to get on the field.
When Germany duly pinched a goal back, Argentina had nothing left. As the game went to extra time, Crespo, Messi, Riquelme, Javier Saviola, and Pablo Aimar - Argentina's best attacking players - watched helplessly from the bench.
After the game, as some Argentina players were involved in an ugly brawl, it was as if all their demons had returned at once. The philosophy of playing a confident, attacking style had been abandoned when it mattered most, and it seemed almost karmic to see the old petulance return.
It's probably unfair to France and Germany, neither of whom have done anything wrong, but for me the charm and romance has already gone out of the tournament and I don’t care much who wins.
The best we can hope for is that in four years time in South Africa, some team – perhaps an African one - will break the mould and show that it's still possible for football to inspire the imagination, rather than simply mimicking the calculating materialism which mostly governs our modern lives.
Saturday, July 01, 2006
Saturday, June 24, 2006
Let the Games Begin
So to round two. For a while there it looked like the qualifiers would almost all be traditional powers. But while all my favourite flaky underachievers have gone though - Portugal, Spain, Holland, Mexico and England - there's also been a few surprises. The success of Ghana, Australia and Ecuador means there will be some new faces in the second round, and still a chance of a bolter getting right through to the semis.
I've rather been beaten to the punch by an article in the Guardian / Observer blog in describing my fears for the knock-out stages of this World Cup. After a pretty entertaining series of group games, with attacking play, plenty of goals, and some skillful, intricate play by Argentina and Spain in particular, there's still the chance that part two of the tournament could be a damp squib.
History says that when World Cups get to the winner-takes-all stage, teams feel heavily burdened by the fear of losing, and matches become tight, dour affairs decided by the odd goal or going down to penalties. Japan / Korea 2002 was a good example of this trend.
A reaon for being optimistic and expecting this time to be a different is the theory I described previously, relating to the movement of the ball and the improvement in attacking play, which have seen goals being scored from everywhere and teams wary of sitting back. In addition, with fewer minnows through, most games will see a contest that both sides think they can win, perhaps resulting in a more aggressive approach.
Games at this stage often turn on a stroke of luck, or a refereeing decision, so that the side with the moral claim to being "better on the day" doesn't necessarily progress.
The other great confounding factor is the vagaries of the draw.
Because the trajectories through to the semi-finals and final are already set out in a neat geometric patterns, we can already discern the likely match-ups, and groan as we see two of the favourites pitted against one another at a too-early stage. The draw for the knock-outs is divided into quadrants - and just as there are "groups of death", this time there is both a "quadrant of death", and one that looks comparatively weak.
The quadrant of death features Spain, France, Brazil, and Ghana. The last two World Cup winners, one of the two best teams at the tournament so far, and the exciting Ghanaians. Only one of these four teams can reach the semi-finals. My biggest fear here is that the aging French will call on their experience and shut out the Spanish, thus depriving us a of a classic mano a mano clash between Spain and Brazil in the quarters. Assuming, that is, that Brazil gets past Ghana, who I think will give them a huge fright and may even cause an upset.
Next quadrant across is a complete contrast, with the winner of Italy vs. Australia facing either a moderate Switzerland or a pedestrian Ukraine in the quarters. It makes you want to weep. Granted, Italy has had some bad luck in the past, going out to penalties in 1990 (semis), 1994 (final), and 1998 (quarters), and being on the wrong end of some dubious refereeing in the 2002 2-1 second round loss to South Korea. This time it looks like they've got some good karma. If they play to anything like their potential, Italy will surely be in the semis.
The other worrying fixture comes in quadrant 4, where Argentina and Germany are headed for a showdown in the quarters. It's a concern that Argentina, now probably the favourite team for most neutrals, have to face up to the hosts at such an early stage. Argentina certainly won't be beaten for skill, but with the Germans' strength, persistence, and the self-belief instilled by their home crowds, there's every chance they could squeeze a win.
Of course, it would be sad for the home team to go out, too, but it would also provide an opportunity for the amenable Germans to concentrate 100% on being fantastic hosts to a great tournament. Let's hope that Riquelme, Crespo, Saviola, Messi et al refuse to be overawed.
The other quadrant is something of a consolation, since it features three of my underachievers - Portugal, Holland and England - plus Ecuador, who have the chance to earn more respect for the next tier of South American football - much better, I feel, than the impression given by the non-Brazil/Argentina teams' usual performances at World Cups. One of these four teams will also make the semis.
I'm not going to make any predictions for the individual games, but I am:
-sticking to my orignal prediction of a Italy vs. Argentina final
-dreaming of a possible Spain vs. Argentina final
-hoping against hope that it's not Italy vs. Germany
NB (written before the matches Germany vs. Sweden and Argentina vs. Mexico,to be played in the next few hours)
Categories: football, Germany 2006, World Cup
I've rather been beaten to the punch by an article in the Guardian / Observer blog in describing my fears for the knock-out stages of this World Cup. After a pretty entertaining series of group games, with attacking play, plenty of goals, and some skillful, intricate play by Argentina and Spain in particular, there's still the chance that part two of the tournament could be a damp squib.
History says that when World Cups get to the winner-takes-all stage, teams feel heavily burdened by the fear of losing, and matches become tight, dour affairs decided by the odd goal or going down to penalties. Japan / Korea 2002 was a good example of this trend.
A reaon for being optimistic and expecting this time to be a different is the theory I described previously, relating to the movement of the ball and the improvement in attacking play, which have seen goals being scored from everywhere and teams wary of sitting back. In addition, with fewer minnows through, most games will see a contest that both sides think they can win, perhaps resulting in a more aggressive approach.
Games at this stage often turn on a stroke of luck, or a refereeing decision, so that the side with the moral claim to being "better on the day" doesn't necessarily progress.
The other great confounding factor is the vagaries of the draw.
Because the trajectories through to the semi-finals and final are already set out in a neat geometric patterns, we can already discern the likely match-ups, and groan as we see two of the favourites pitted against one another at a too-early stage. The draw for the knock-outs is divided into quadrants - and just as there are "groups of death", this time there is both a "quadrant of death", and one that looks comparatively weak.
The quadrant of death features Spain, France, Brazil, and Ghana. The last two World Cup winners, one of the two best teams at the tournament so far, and the exciting Ghanaians. Only one of these four teams can reach the semi-finals. My biggest fear here is that the aging French will call on their experience and shut out the Spanish, thus depriving us a of a classic mano a mano clash between Spain and Brazil in the quarters. Assuming, that is, that Brazil gets past Ghana, who I think will give them a huge fright and may even cause an upset.
Next quadrant across is a complete contrast, with the winner of Italy vs. Australia facing either a moderate Switzerland or a pedestrian Ukraine in the quarters. It makes you want to weep. Granted, Italy has had some bad luck in the past, going out to penalties in 1990 (semis), 1994 (final), and 1998 (quarters), and being on the wrong end of some dubious refereeing in the 2002 2-1 second round loss to South Korea. This time it looks like they've got some good karma. If they play to anything like their potential, Italy will surely be in the semis.
The other worrying fixture comes in quadrant 4, where Argentina and Germany are headed for a showdown in the quarters. It's a concern that Argentina, now probably the favourite team for most neutrals, have to face up to the hosts at such an early stage. Argentina certainly won't be beaten for skill, but with the Germans' strength, persistence, and the self-belief instilled by their home crowds, there's every chance they could squeeze a win.
Of course, it would be sad for the home team to go out, too, but it would also provide an opportunity for the amenable Germans to concentrate 100% on being fantastic hosts to a great tournament. Let's hope that Riquelme, Crespo, Saviola, Messi et al refuse to be overawed.
The other quadrant is something of a consolation, since it features three of my underachievers - Portugal, Holland and England - plus Ecuador, who have the chance to earn more respect for the next tier of South American football - much better, I feel, than the impression given by the non-Brazil/Argentina teams' usual performances at World Cups. One of these four teams will also make the semis.
I'm not going to make any predictions for the individual games, but I am:
-sticking to my orignal prediction of a Italy vs. Argentina final
-dreaming of a possible Spain vs. Argentina final
-hoping against hope that it's not Italy vs. Germany
NB (written before the matches Germany vs. Sweden and Argentina vs. Mexico,to be played in the next few hours)
Categories: football, Germany 2006, World Cup
Saturday, June 17, 2006
As Long As Its Not Italy vs. Germany
Thrilling stuff in the World Cup's first week, with lots of goals, attacking play, and several excellent games. In addition, nothing so far has contradicted my prediction that the two teams to watch would be Argentina and Italy.
Yesterday's stunning 6-0 win by Argentina over Serbia & Montenegro, with several goals which brought tears to the eyes, demonstrated exactly what I meant when I talked in previous posts about the "elaboarate interweaving of individual skills".
Overnight, there's been a lot of jumping on the bandwagon, with the Guardian, for example, asking "Can anyone stop Argentina?". But of course the caveat is that it's all too common for teams which dazzle in the group stages to be knocked out later by an opponent which is more clinical, or simply has luck on its side. And World Cup history is replete with examples of teams, which begin looking thoroughly ordinary, transforming themselves in the later stages.
It's pleasing that my favourite flaky, underachieving teams - Holland, Portugal, Spain and Mexico - have all won, and look good to go through to the second round. In fact, Spain has been the other team to impress most, with a dazzling 4-0 demolition of Ukraine, leading some to suggest that they might finally replicate the flair and confidence of their club teams at a national level.
Of the other teams, England have looked flawed and extremely pedestrian despite their two wins. Brazil were also disappointing, and appeared brittle in their win over Croatia. Worst of all, France can't seem to buy a goal, and appear unlikely to erase memories of their disaster in 2002.
On the other hand, the pessimism of the German fans has rapidly dissolved, with a couple of bright displays. They look quite potent up front, and with the home advantage and their traditional resilience, I'll be suprised if they don't make the semifinals.
The distinction seems to be between the teams that seem determined to play all their "stars", no matter how unfit, out of form, or past it (e.g. Brazil, England and France), and those which have placed an emphasis on form, youth, and a proper team structure (notably Argentina, Spain and Holland). In the former case, there's more than a suggestion that coaches have half an eye on the desires of the sponsors.
What's different from South Korea and Japan four years ago, and many previous World Cups, is that so far there haven't been any real shock upsets. I'm of the view that this is a good thing. While upsets give unpredictability to the tournament, they also lead to some poorer quality matches later on, as the minnows can't sustain their quality of play.
This time it looks like the knockout stages will be dominated by the bigger teams, so whoever gets through to the final will have proved themselves in a number of major contests.
Worst piece of luck is the demise of Ivory Coast in the "group of death". After narrow losses to Argentina and Holland, they're already out, despite having played some of the best football of the tournament so far. And like many others, I must apologise for my dismissal of Ecuador's prospects at sea level - they've been the surprise performers of the World Cup.
Overall, there's no doubt that already it's been a much better tournament than Korea & Japan 2002, or Euro 2004, where a heroic but uninspiring Greece squeezed out wins against all comers.
One of the reasons for this may be the longer preparation time - the finals have started nine days later than in 2002, so teams have had longer to overcome injuries, rest, and prepare. In addition, it may be that some of the bigger teams got such a shock at their poor performance in 2002, that they have prepared more carefully this time.
My view is that an important factor is the controversial tournament ball. So far, it's been a goalkeeper's nightmare: it flies, it swerves, it dips. With each game, more and more spectacular goals are being scored from ever more improbable distances (to my mind Torsten Frings' goal against Costa Rica was one of the best, but was upstaged by Bakary Kone's sensational effort for Ivory Coast against Holland).
The ease of scoring from distance has meant that the defensive approach of sitting deep and putting the majority of players behind the ball becomes a lot riskier. You might try and play conservative, but then - ping! - you go behind to a 30-metre screamer. Better to take an attacking approach and try and score first.
Only time will tell if this approach continues in the knockout stages.
So, what are my predictions for the knockout rounds? Really, I can't do better than pure speculation, but I will say that's I won't be at all surprised if the semi-finalists don't go outside the big four of Brazil, Argentina, Italy and Germany. If one of them misses out, my pick is for Brazil's fragilities to be exposed in the quarter-finals. Fourth semi-finalist? Spain or England. Don't laugh, England have a strong defense, are capable of pinching a goal or two, and usually play better against the bigger teams. Wouldn't bet on it, though.
Though I'll be holding out for a Spain vs. Argentina final, really I can live with any combination as long as it's not Italy vs. Germany. While both teams look to have made some changes and are playing in a way that gives the lie to their dour reputations, my prejudices just run too deep. Key perhaps is that my formative football-watching experience was in 1982, when Italy knocked out the beloved Brazilian team of Zico, Socrates et al, and a cynical West Germany stopped Michel Platini's France on penalties in the semi-final.
Speaking of which, if there's one more request I could make to the footballing gods, it's that as many matches as possible are won by the side that score more goals in open play. I know there's no obviously better and fairer way of separating two sides, in this day and age of tight schedules and domination by TV. But please, please, if at all possible, let there not be penalties.
Yesterday's stunning 6-0 win by Argentina over Serbia & Montenegro, with several goals which brought tears to the eyes, demonstrated exactly what I meant when I talked in previous posts about the "elaboarate interweaving of individual skills".
Overnight, there's been a lot of jumping on the bandwagon, with the Guardian, for example, asking "Can anyone stop Argentina?". But of course the caveat is that it's all too common for teams which dazzle in the group stages to be knocked out later by an opponent which is more clinical, or simply has luck on its side. And World Cup history is replete with examples of teams, which begin looking thoroughly ordinary, transforming themselves in the later stages.
It's pleasing that my favourite flaky, underachieving teams - Holland, Portugal, Spain and Mexico - have all won, and look good to go through to the second round. In fact, Spain has been the other team to impress most, with a dazzling 4-0 demolition of Ukraine, leading some to suggest that they might finally replicate the flair and confidence of their club teams at a national level.
Of the other teams, England have looked flawed and extremely pedestrian despite their two wins. Brazil were also disappointing, and appeared brittle in their win over Croatia. Worst of all, France can't seem to buy a goal, and appear unlikely to erase memories of their disaster in 2002.
On the other hand, the pessimism of the German fans has rapidly dissolved, with a couple of bright displays. They look quite potent up front, and with the home advantage and their traditional resilience, I'll be suprised if they don't make the semifinals.
The distinction seems to be between the teams that seem determined to play all their "stars", no matter how unfit, out of form, or past it (e.g. Brazil, England and France), and those which have placed an emphasis on form, youth, and a proper team structure (notably Argentina, Spain and Holland). In the former case, there's more than a suggestion that coaches have half an eye on the desires of the sponsors.
What's different from South Korea and Japan four years ago, and many previous World Cups, is that so far there haven't been any real shock upsets. I'm of the view that this is a good thing. While upsets give unpredictability to the tournament, they also lead to some poorer quality matches later on, as the minnows can't sustain their quality of play.
This time it looks like the knockout stages will be dominated by the bigger teams, so whoever gets through to the final will have proved themselves in a number of major contests.
Worst piece of luck is the demise of Ivory Coast in the "group of death". After narrow losses to Argentina and Holland, they're already out, despite having played some of the best football of the tournament so far. And like many others, I must apologise for my dismissal of Ecuador's prospects at sea level - they've been the surprise performers of the World Cup.
Overall, there's no doubt that already it's been a much better tournament than Korea & Japan 2002, or Euro 2004, where a heroic but uninspiring Greece squeezed out wins against all comers.
One of the reasons for this may be the longer preparation time - the finals have started nine days later than in 2002, so teams have had longer to overcome injuries, rest, and prepare. In addition, it may be that some of the bigger teams got such a shock at their poor performance in 2002, that they have prepared more carefully this time.
My view is that an important factor is the controversial tournament ball. So far, it's been a goalkeeper's nightmare: it flies, it swerves, it dips. With each game, more and more spectacular goals are being scored from ever more improbable distances (to my mind Torsten Frings' goal against Costa Rica was one of the best, but was upstaged by Bakary Kone's sensational effort for Ivory Coast against Holland).
The ease of scoring from distance has meant that the defensive approach of sitting deep and putting the majority of players behind the ball becomes a lot riskier. You might try and play conservative, but then - ping! - you go behind to a 30-metre screamer. Better to take an attacking approach and try and score first.
Only time will tell if this approach continues in the knockout stages.
So, what are my predictions for the knockout rounds? Really, I can't do better than pure speculation, but I will say that's I won't be at all surprised if the semi-finalists don't go outside the big four of Brazil, Argentina, Italy and Germany. If one of them misses out, my pick is for Brazil's fragilities to be exposed in the quarter-finals. Fourth semi-finalist? Spain or England. Don't laugh, England have a strong defense, are capable of pinching a goal or two, and usually play better against the bigger teams. Wouldn't bet on it, though.
Though I'll be holding out for a Spain vs. Argentina final, really I can live with any combination as long as it's not Italy vs. Germany. While both teams look to have made some changes and are playing in a way that gives the lie to their dour reputations, my prejudices just run too deep. Key perhaps is that my formative football-watching experience was in 1982, when Italy knocked out the beloved Brazilian team of Zico, Socrates et al, and a cynical West Germany stopped Michel Platini's France on penalties in the semi-final.
Speaking of which, if there's one more request I could make to the footballing gods, it's that as many matches as possible are won by the side that score more goals in open play. I know there's no obviously better and fairer way of separating two sides, in this day and age of tight schedules and domination by TV. But please, please, if at all possible, let there not be penalties.
Thursday, June 08, 2006
World Cup Fever
What could possibly console you when you return from fun-filled adventure in the steamy Amazon to the cold, dead world of a Wellington office job in winter?
Well, the beginning of a football World Cup makes a pretty good start. Tomorrow night (NZ time) Germany 2006 kicks off when the hosts play Costa Rica, followed by six weeks of what we all hope will be skill, excitement, and lots of goals.
When I last posted on the football, I was still hanging on the outside chance that one of my "home teams" might sneak into the finals. In the end, none of Peru, Guatemala or Colombia got through, though Australia did secure an historic place for Oceania, and I suppose we're honour bound to support them.
With a reasonably dispassionate eye, then, who do I think will win the tournament?
As usual, it's very hard to go past the big four of Brazil, Argentina, Italy and Germany. A year and a half ago I was picking Argentina, who have developed a fluid, attacking style based on the elaboarate linking of individual skills. But they seem to have lost confidence a little since then, and Brazil have been beaten them on every occasion that's mattered. Even in the Copa America final, a Brazil team missing its stars was completely outplayed but managed to scrape a 2-2 draw and win on penalties.
As an article in the weekend Guardian pointed out, whoever wins the tournament will need to find a bunch of goals from somewhere, and no one appears to have a better guarantee of this than Brazil, with four or five players likely to make their mark on the scoring sheet. Though it is claimed that not all the stars are at their best, it looks a more complete team than in 2002, when they won relatively easily. If they maintain a half respectable defense, they have a good chance of taking another crown.
Germany seems to be on the decline, and is the despair of many of their fans. But it would be a foolish mistake to write them off: they made the final in 2002 while looking pretty ordinary, and have a funny habit of coming back from the dead. Home advantage will be a major boost.
Italy is my another story again. Though they are rarely among the glamorous sentimental favourites, with every Italian team you can be sure that they will give nothing away, and that they will convert the oppotunities they get with skill and ruthlessness. As always, they have a strong defense, and it will just one of their attacking players to discover himself for them to have a very good tournament.
England is being talked about in many quarters, and it is true that they have their best team (playing XI at least) for a very long time, with strength in defense, midfield, and attack. But I feel that at the top level they rely heavily on Wayne Rooney as a creative link between midfield and attack, as well as a goalscorer. He is being rushed back from injury and is not yet 100 percent. Without Rooney at his best, I doubt they will go past the quarterfinals.
Of the other European teams, I doubt that France will go close to repeating their 1998 success, unless Thierry Henry breaks with tradition and performs in a major international tournament. My other "second favourites", Portugal and Holland, will once again flatter to deceive. The Spanish national team will again fail to reproduce the flair and confidence shown by its players at club level. The Czech Republic played the most attractive football at Euro 2004, but its squad may be past its best.
Japan and South KOrea will turn in some good performance, but I don't think they will repeat the heroics seen on their home soil last time around. Of the African teams, Ivory Coast looks the strongest, with good goalscoring potential.
For a dark horse, I'll go with Serbia and Montenegro, who look pretty solid and could embarass Argentina or Holland in the "group of death", Group C. The United States is another that is underrated.
My pick for the final? Italy vs. Argentina, with Italy having knocked out Brazil in the semi-finals - as in 1982, a star-studded Brazilian team defeated by the more clinical Italians. I'll be cheering for Argentina, but won't pick a winner.
I just hope it doesn't come down to penalties. At that point it's a lottery, and I won't be watching.
Categories: football, Germany 2006
Well, the beginning of a football World Cup makes a pretty good start. Tomorrow night (NZ time) Germany 2006 kicks off when the hosts play Costa Rica, followed by six weeks of what we all hope will be skill, excitement, and lots of goals.
When I last posted on the football, I was still hanging on the outside chance that one of my "home teams" might sneak into the finals. In the end, none of Peru, Guatemala or Colombia got through, though Australia did secure an historic place for Oceania, and I suppose we're honour bound to support them.
With a reasonably dispassionate eye, then, who do I think will win the tournament?
As usual, it's very hard to go past the big four of Brazil, Argentina, Italy and Germany. A year and a half ago I was picking Argentina, who have developed a fluid, attacking style based on the elaboarate linking of individual skills. But they seem to have lost confidence a little since then, and Brazil have been beaten them on every occasion that's mattered. Even in the Copa America final, a Brazil team missing its stars was completely outplayed but managed to scrape a 2-2 draw and win on penalties.
As an article in the weekend Guardian pointed out, whoever wins the tournament will need to find a bunch of goals from somewhere, and no one appears to have a better guarantee of this than Brazil, with four or five players likely to make their mark on the scoring sheet. Though it is claimed that not all the stars are at their best, it looks a more complete team than in 2002, when they won relatively easily. If they maintain a half respectable defense, they have a good chance of taking another crown.
Germany seems to be on the decline, and is the despair of many of their fans. But it would be a foolish mistake to write them off: they made the final in 2002 while looking pretty ordinary, and have a funny habit of coming back from the dead. Home advantage will be a major boost.
Italy is my another story again. Though they are rarely among the glamorous sentimental favourites, with every Italian team you can be sure that they will give nothing away, and that they will convert the oppotunities they get with skill and ruthlessness. As always, they have a strong defense, and it will just one of their attacking players to discover himself for them to have a very good tournament.
England is being talked about in many quarters, and it is true that they have their best team (playing XI at least) for a very long time, with strength in defense, midfield, and attack. But I feel that at the top level they rely heavily on Wayne Rooney as a creative link between midfield and attack, as well as a goalscorer. He is being rushed back from injury and is not yet 100 percent. Without Rooney at his best, I doubt they will go past the quarterfinals.
Of the other European teams, I doubt that France will go close to repeating their 1998 success, unless Thierry Henry breaks with tradition and performs in a major international tournament. My other "second favourites", Portugal and Holland, will once again flatter to deceive. The Spanish national team will again fail to reproduce the flair and confidence shown by its players at club level. The Czech Republic played the most attractive football at Euro 2004, but its squad may be past its best.
Japan and South KOrea will turn in some good performance, but I don't think they will repeat the heroics seen on their home soil last time around. Of the African teams, Ivory Coast looks the strongest, with good goalscoring potential.
For a dark horse, I'll go with Serbia and Montenegro, who look pretty solid and could embarass Argentina or Holland in the "group of death", Group C. The United States is another that is underrated.
My pick for the final? Italy vs. Argentina, with Italy having knocked out Brazil in the semi-finals - as in 1982, a star-studded Brazilian team defeated by the more clinical Italians. I'll be cheering for Argentina, but won't pick a winner.
I just hope it doesn't come down to penalties. At that point it's a lottery, and I won't be watching.
Categories: football, Germany 2006
Friday, June 02, 2006
Last Word on the Peru Elections
The second round of voting for the Peruvian presidential elections is scheduled for this Sunday, and all the polls are showing that Alan Garcia is likely to defeat Ollanta Humala by as much as 60 to 40 percent.
Polls before the first round of voting suggested that an Alan-Ollanta faceoff in the second round would be veru tight, some even showing Ollanta more likely to win. So what has changed?
The key seems to be that many who voted for Lourdes Flores or Valentin Paniagua in the first round have looked at the options actually in front of them, and decided to apply Polly Toynbee's peg to their nose and give Alan a tick. Even my friend Hugo, who had previously sworn to jamas vote for Alan, was having doubts. "Hmm, it seems that Alan may be the best candidate", he acknowledged.
He, like a significant proportion of others, is now planning to turn in a blank or spoiled vote in disgust at the choices on offer. But it seems that enough people will reluctantly vote for Alan just to keep Ollanta out: as much as Garcia's record is offputting, there is a sense that what an acquaintance of mine referred to as "ese militar" would be even worse.
Crucial in this turn has been the heavy-handed, bullying interventions of Hugo Chavez, who has repeatedly abused both Garcia and incumbent president Alejandro Toledo while endorsing Ollanta Humala.
Most Peruvians don't want to become a satellite of Venezuela, and given that many whom I talked to see international investment and tourism as crucial to their country's future, aren't keen to go down the Bolivian road of heavy-handed nationalisation.
It also helps that Alan has at least sounded like a model statesman, talking of "responsible change" and respecting democracy. He has moderated his populist appeal to hardcore followers and the poor with increasing sops to the centre-right. When he speaks, if you didn't know of his previous record, you could be mistaken for thinking he is the archetype Third-Way social democrat personified.
The western mainstream media's references to a "resurgence of leftism" in Latin America was always an unsophisticated description of diverse developments in different countries. True, as there has been a pretty consistent reaction against the failure of Washington consensus neoliberal economic policies to improve living standards for the great majority in the region. But it's more complicated than that. As I mentioned in my first post on the Peruvian elections, there is more than one vision of how to address the social problems of the continent.
An excellent analysis of the different approaches is provided in this article by former Mexican foriegn minister Jorge G. Castañeda. He distinguishes on the one hand the reformist social democratism of Lula in Brazil, Lago as Bachelet in Chile, and Tabare Vasquez in Uruguay. On the other, the authoritarian populist nationalism of Chavez, Morales in Bolivia and Peronist Nestor Kirchner in Argentina, Peronism being that country's unique brand of populism. Ollanta Humala is cited as an example of the second tendency.
There's no secret which left he (and I) favour. The former approach aims to incrementally improve social indicators; the latter tends to ignore these and focus on battling real or imagined enemies while making grand seeming but poorly evaluated gestures at "helping the poor". While social improvements and reductions in inequality have been slow or uneven in countries like Chile, Peru and Brazil, in Venezuela poverty has actually increased over the last six years of Chavez's mandate.
A Colombian paper I read the other week also made quite a clever distinction between "Chavezism" vs. "Blairism"as the competing forces on the international left. Brazil and Chile were again held up as examples of"Blairist" policies - mixing a broad faith in markets and international trade with increased investment in education, health and infrastructure (New Zealand, of course, is another in the sway of the Blairist model).
Garcia has embraced this dichotomy, and painted himself into the reformist corner. In recent days he has even specifically said that he wants to follow the example of Chile and Brazil, and that "Chile is an example for the region". Since Peruvians routinely like to beat up on Chile and blame it for their own country's ills, this represents a welcome attempt to model a more mature attitude. Mind you, this was an interview reported in the Chilean press: as in all politics, the message varies according to the audience.
Even more importantly, he has jumped heavily on the interventions of Chavez and suggested that Peru faces a choice between determining its own destiny (i.e. voting for him) or becoming another obedient client of big brother Hugo. "Peru or Chavez" has been his slogan in recent days, and this seems to resonate with many.
The bad news is that, after a relatively restrained and responsible first round of voting, things seem to have got progressively more disorderly. Humlala has called Garcia a "thief" and Alan responded by calling Ollanta a "murderer of policemen". Violence broke out between the opposing supporters at a May 25 political rally, and shots were fired. Both sides are accusing the other of having made a pact with Peru's favourite betes noires, Fujimori and Montesinos. Humala has made (unsubstantiated) allegations that a fraud is being prepared for Sunday's vote.
Even if the result is clear cut in terms of votes, the winner may well face questions as to their legitimacy, since both have chequered past records, many of their votes will have been registered as a protest against the other candidate, and the proportion of blank or spoiled votes will be high. At worst, there could be ongoing threats to the political stability that, for all his difficulties, Alejandro Toledo has maintained over the past five years.
It is to be hoped that likely loser Humala will maturely accept the result and focus on working from within the system to help make a difference to the lives of the 50 percent of Peruvians who still live in poverty.
Polls before the first round of voting suggested that an Alan-Ollanta faceoff in the second round would be veru tight, some even showing Ollanta more likely to win. So what has changed?
The key seems to be that many who voted for Lourdes Flores or Valentin Paniagua in the first round have looked at the options actually in front of them, and decided to apply Polly Toynbee's peg to their nose and give Alan a tick. Even my friend Hugo, who had previously sworn to jamas vote for Alan, was having doubts. "Hmm, it seems that Alan may be the best candidate", he acknowledged.
He, like a significant proportion of others, is now planning to turn in a blank or spoiled vote in disgust at the choices on offer. But it seems that enough people will reluctantly vote for Alan just to keep Ollanta out: as much as Garcia's record is offputting, there is a sense that what an acquaintance of mine referred to as "ese militar" would be even worse.
Crucial in this turn has been the heavy-handed, bullying interventions of Hugo Chavez, who has repeatedly abused both Garcia and incumbent president Alejandro Toledo while endorsing Ollanta Humala.
Most Peruvians don't want to become a satellite of Venezuela, and given that many whom I talked to see international investment and tourism as crucial to their country's future, aren't keen to go down the Bolivian road of heavy-handed nationalisation.
It also helps that Alan has at least sounded like a model statesman, talking of "responsible change" and respecting democracy. He has moderated his populist appeal to hardcore followers and the poor with increasing sops to the centre-right. When he speaks, if you didn't know of his previous record, you could be mistaken for thinking he is the archetype Third-Way social democrat personified.
The western mainstream media's references to a "resurgence of leftism" in Latin America was always an unsophisticated description of diverse developments in different countries. True, as there has been a pretty consistent reaction against the failure of Washington consensus neoliberal economic policies to improve living standards for the great majority in the region. But it's more complicated than that. As I mentioned in my first post on the Peruvian elections, there is more than one vision of how to address the social problems of the continent.
An excellent analysis of the different approaches is provided in this article by former Mexican foriegn minister Jorge G. Castañeda. He distinguishes on the one hand the reformist social democratism of Lula in Brazil, Lago as Bachelet in Chile, and Tabare Vasquez in Uruguay. On the other, the authoritarian populist nationalism of Chavez, Morales in Bolivia and Peronist Nestor Kirchner in Argentina, Peronism being that country's unique brand of populism. Ollanta Humala is cited as an example of the second tendency.
There's no secret which left he (and I) favour. The former approach aims to incrementally improve social indicators; the latter tends to ignore these and focus on battling real or imagined enemies while making grand seeming but poorly evaluated gestures at "helping the poor". While social improvements and reductions in inequality have been slow or uneven in countries like Chile, Peru and Brazil, in Venezuela poverty has actually increased over the last six years of Chavez's mandate.
A Colombian paper I read the other week also made quite a clever distinction between "Chavezism" vs. "Blairism"as the competing forces on the international left. Brazil and Chile were again held up as examples of"Blairist" policies - mixing a broad faith in markets and international trade with increased investment in education, health and infrastructure (New Zealand, of course, is another in the sway of the Blairist model).
Garcia has embraced this dichotomy, and painted himself into the reformist corner. In recent days he has even specifically said that he wants to follow the example of Chile and Brazil, and that "Chile is an example for the region". Since Peruvians routinely like to beat up on Chile and blame it for their own country's ills, this represents a welcome attempt to model a more mature attitude. Mind you, this was an interview reported in the Chilean press: as in all politics, the message varies according to the audience.
Even more importantly, he has jumped heavily on the interventions of Chavez and suggested that Peru faces a choice between determining its own destiny (i.e. voting for him) or becoming another obedient client of big brother Hugo. "Peru or Chavez" has been his slogan in recent days, and this seems to resonate with many.
The bad news is that, after a relatively restrained and responsible first round of voting, things seem to have got progressively more disorderly. Humlala has called Garcia a "thief" and Alan responded by calling Ollanta a "murderer of policemen". Violence broke out between the opposing supporters at a May 25 political rally, and shots were fired. Both sides are accusing the other of having made a pact with Peru's favourite betes noires, Fujimori and Montesinos. Humala has made (unsubstantiated) allegations that a fraud is being prepared for Sunday's vote.
Even if the result is clear cut in terms of votes, the winner may well face questions as to their legitimacy, since both have chequered past records, many of their votes will have been registered as a protest against the other candidate, and the proportion of blank or spoiled votes will be high. At worst, there could be ongoing threats to the political stability that, for all his difficulties, Alejandro Toledo has maintained over the past five years.
It is to be hoped that likely loser Humala will maturely accept the result and focus on working from within the system to help make a difference to the lives of the 50 percent of Peruvians who still live in poverty.
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
What I'd Left Out
There just hasn't been time to update the blog over the last week and a half. I have to do a bullet point list of where I've been and what I 've done.
As I mentioned, we got to Iquitos in three days and three nights on the boat from Pucallpa. I'll put together a whole story on that some other time.
I was over a week in Iquitos. As well as the motorbike classes, I also participated in an ayahuasca ceremony, which I suppose did "cleanse" my body through repeated vomiting, but disappointingly didn't produce any psychdelic experiences.
We went to visit the Boras and Yahuas tribes, about half an hour from Iquitos by boat, and bought more miscellaneous arts and crafts, while they jumped into native costume, performed a brief traditional dance, and charged us for the experience.
We also visited the "serpentario", an animal santuary perched above the river which included a tame anaconda amenable to being photographed draped around the neck of tourists.
Not to mention the social life and numerous invitations to people's houses to be stuffed full of local cuisine.
Tuesday morning at 6:00 am I took the fast, but extremely cramped, boat to Leticia, wher the frontiers of Peru, Colombia and Brazil meet. I spent four days in Leticia, undertaking some investigations about which I hope to be able to write in more detail some time in the future.
There was another trip to a native community, and some more handling of another anaconda, this time wild, which had eaten seven of the local chickens, and had recently been captured.
On Friday the "dry law" started in Colombia; presidential elections were on Sunday, and no alcohol was allowed to be served throughout the country during the weeknd, presumably so all voters would make a sober choice. To address this inconvenience, we left the country - several blocks down the street into the Brazilian town of Tabatinga.
This didn't turn out to be such a good idea, as the next morning I very nearly missed my flight to Bogota, luckily being saved by my new Letician friends who came to my hotel and woke me up.
I spent the evening in Bogota at the comfortable house of a friend of a friend, and the next day took a taxi through the very quiet city to the airport to catch my flight to Santiago. Seven hours of pleasant flight in the company of a very gregarious girl from Bogota who was going to study in Australia, and I was at my second to last stop.
My uncle and aunt, who live in Viña del Mar, very kindly picked me up, and that's where I am now. My body has had soemthing of a "what the hell have you ben doing to me these last five weeks" attack over the last couple of days, but now I'm on the mend.
Tomorow I'm heading back to Santiago to catch up with a couple of people, and then it's back to NZ and to work. Another time, another place, another life.
As I mentioned, we got to Iquitos in three days and three nights on the boat from Pucallpa. I'll put together a whole story on that some other time.
I was over a week in Iquitos. As well as the motorbike classes, I also participated in an ayahuasca ceremony, which I suppose did "cleanse" my body through repeated vomiting, but disappointingly didn't produce any psychdelic experiences.
We went to visit the Boras and Yahuas tribes, about half an hour from Iquitos by boat, and bought more miscellaneous arts and crafts, while they jumped into native costume, performed a brief traditional dance, and charged us for the experience.
We also visited the "serpentario", an animal santuary perched above the river which included a tame anaconda amenable to being photographed draped around the neck of tourists.
Not to mention the social life and numerous invitations to people's houses to be stuffed full of local cuisine.
Tuesday morning at 6:00 am I took the fast, but extremely cramped, boat to Leticia, wher the frontiers of Peru, Colombia and Brazil meet. I spent four days in Leticia, undertaking some investigations about which I hope to be able to write in more detail some time in the future.
There was another trip to a native community, and some more handling of another anaconda, this time wild, which had eaten seven of the local chickens, and had recently been captured.
On Friday the "dry law" started in Colombia; presidential elections were on Sunday, and no alcohol was allowed to be served throughout the country during the weeknd, presumably so all voters would make a sober choice. To address this inconvenience, we left the country - several blocks down the street into the Brazilian town of Tabatinga.
This didn't turn out to be such a good idea, as the next morning I very nearly missed my flight to Bogota, luckily being saved by my new Letician friends who came to my hotel and woke me up.
I spent the evening in Bogota at the comfortable house of a friend of a friend, and the next day took a taxi through the very quiet city to the airport to catch my flight to Santiago. Seven hours of pleasant flight in the company of a very gregarious girl from Bogota who was going to study in Australia, and I was at my second to last stop.
My uncle and aunt, who live in Viña del Mar, very kindly picked me up, and that's where I am now. My body has had soemthing of a "what the hell have you ben doing to me these last five weeks" attack over the last couple of days, but now I'm on the mend.
Tomorow I'm heading back to Santiago to catch up with a couple of people, and then it's back to NZ and to work. Another time, another place, another life.
Saturday, May 20, 2006
Born to Be Not So Wild
AS I mentioned in a previous post, traffic in the jungle cities of Peru is completely dominated by various kinds of motorcycles. I already knew this, as my friend Blanca in Arequipa had painted a romantic picture of her "tierra", of people riding around on motorbikes, hair blowing in the wind. So one of my goals before coming here was always to try and learn to ride some form of motorcycle.
Having expressed this wish to various people on my arrival in Iquitos, I had several offers to give me classes. I took up the invitation of a girl called Glahiss, whom Hugo and I had met with her sister at an open air disco on Sunday evening.
We rented a small motorcycle and headed out of the city to the Quistococha reserve, where there is a stretch of asphalt with no traffic.
Everything was going fine. The motorcycle was stable and easy to handle; I was getting the hang of working through the gears. After making another lap of the short stretch of ashpalt, I slowed up and went to stop. I squeezed the brake; unfortunately in my efforts to concentate on the gear downshifts, I neglected to take my hand off the accelerator, and in fact ended up squeezing it harder.
The result was predictable; the bike careered and skidded about 10 metres, I was thrown off, and the bike rolled onto its side. There pretty much ended the lesson. I escaped with a light graze on my right elbow. The motorcycle, however, received some noticeable scratches around the front wheel and mud guard. Worse, the steering wheel appeared to be twisted, and the bike would no longer go into neutral.
We headed back to Iquitos, going slowly in second, me with some trepidation about what I would have to pay for the damages. About five minutes down the road we were stopped at a police checkpoint. The rented bike had no plates, and they also wanted to see Glahiss' non-existent licence.
Glahiss was called across the road to talk to the more senior policeman. "Where's your licence, señorita?", he asked. "I don't have one, Ramón", she replied. "What? How do you know my name?", asked the policeman. It turned out that she had known the cop when he was much younger and used to come to her mother's store. She had just that moment recognised him.
Meanwhile, I was left with the other policeman. Having explained the gravity of driving an unlicensed vehicle and the need for police vigilance, he took an interest in my piranha necklace. "What else have you done here, bought any other artesanias?", he asked. I told him about our trip to the communities of the Boras and Yahuas tribes. We were let go with a warning.
We struggled on. Just as we were coming into the central part of Iquitos, we had a puncture which completely deflated the front tyre. We stopped a moto taxi, whose driver agreed to "tow" us to a tyre repair shop (meaning the front wheel lifted onto the taxi's baggage space, us holding on). He also managed to straighten the steering column and get the bike going through the gears again.
The puncture took less than ten minutes to fix, and the shop manager was sympathetic about my accident. "Ah, it's the only way to learn", laughed. "When I was twelve, I rode my bicycle directly into a power pole".
We headed off again. Two blocks later, we ran completely out of petrol. The bike stalled and completely refused to start. This time, we got another moto taxi driver to "push" us the few blocks to the nearest petrol station. I rode in the moto taxi; Glahiss sat on the bike, which the traxi driver pushed along with a free foot. This is very Peru - informal, creative improvisation making up for failures in other areas.
We got to the gas station, bought some petrol and headed back to the motorbike rental plae. As soon as we had parked the bike, Glahiss went into flirtatious negotation mode with the young attendant. We had been away two and a half hours, but she was trying to convince him to charge us for only two hours. "Oh come on, make it two hours", she simpered, batting her eyelids.
In this way, the attendant was distracted from checking the condition of the bike and noticing the scratches, which I had convinced myself weren't that bad anyway. He eventually caved in and charged us for two hours, and we walked away, me wanting to hurry to the next block somewhat quicker than Glahiss.
If slices of bad luck do seem to come in threes, at the end of the day we had been favoured by fortune.
Having expressed this wish to various people on my arrival in Iquitos, I had several offers to give me classes. I took up the invitation of a girl called Glahiss, whom Hugo and I had met with her sister at an open air disco on Sunday evening.
We rented a small motorcycle and headed out of the city to the Quistococha reserve, where there is a stretch of asphalt with no traffic.
Everything was going fine. The motorcycle was stable and easy to handle; I was getting the hang of working through the gears. After making another lap of the short stretch of ashpalt, I slowed up and went to stop. I squeezed the brake; unfortunately in my efforts to concentate on the gear downshifts, I neglected to take my hand off the accelerator, and in fact ended up squeezing it harder.
The result was predictable; the bike careered and skidded about 10 metres, I was thrown off, and the bike rolled onto its side. There pretty much ended the lesson. I escaped with a light graze on my right elbow. The motorcycle, however, received some noticeable scratches around the front wheel and mud guard. Worse, the steering wheel appeared to be twisted, and the bike would no longer go into neutral.
We headed back to Iquitos, going slowly in second, me with some trepidation about what I would have to pay for the damages. About five minutes down the road we were stopped at a police checkpoint. The rented bike had no plates, and they also wanted to see Glahiss' non-existent licence.
Glahiss was called across the road to talk to the more senior policeman. "Where's your licence, señorita?", he asked. "I don't have one, Ramón", she replied. "What? How do you know my name?", asked the policeman. It turned out that she had known the cop when he was much younger and used to come to her mother's store. She had just that moment recognised him.
Meanwhile, I was left with the other policeman. Having explained the gravity of driving an unlicensed vehicle and the need for police vigilance, he took an interest in my piranha necklace. "What else have you done here, bought any other artesanias?", he asked. I told him about our trip to the communities of the Boras and Yahuas tribes. We were let go with a warning.
We struggled on. Just as we were coming into the central part of Iquitos, we had a puncture which completely deflated the front tyre. We stopped a moto taxi, whose driver agreed to "tow" us to a tyre repair shop (meaning the front wheel lifted onto the taxi's baggage space, us holding on). He also managed to straighten the steering column and get the bike going through the gears again.
The puncture took less than ten minutes to fix, and the shop manager was sympathetic about my accident. "Ah, it's the only way to learn", laughed. "When I was twelve, I rode my bicycle directly into a power pole".
We headed off again. Two blocks later, we ran completely out of petrol. The bike stalled and completely refused to start. This time, we got another moto taxi driver to "push" us the few blocks to the nearest petrol station. I rode in the moto taxi; Glahiss sat on the bike, which the traxi driver pushed along with a free foot. This is very Peru - informal, creative improvisation making up for failures in other areas.
We got to the gas station, bought some petrol and headed back to the motorbike rental plae. As soon as we had parked the bike, Glahiss went into flirtatious negotation mode with the young attendant. We had been away two and a half hours, but she was trying to convince him to charge us for only two hours. "Oh come on, make it two hours", she simpered, batting her eyelids.
In this way, the attendant was distracted from checking the condition of the bike and noticing the scratches, which I had convinced myself weren't that bad anyway. He eventually caved in and charged us for two hours, and we walked away, me wanting to hurry to the next block somewhat quicker than Glahiss.
If slices of bad luck do seem to come in threes, at the end of the day we had been favoured by fortune.
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
Iquitos - Marchitada y Bonita
The trip by boat from Pucallpa to Iquitos took three days and three nights, with an extra day's delay thrown in when the Henry I, despite all assurances, didn't leave port.
It was an experience and an adventure, most of everything I had hoped it would be. I'll try and find time in the next few days to describe the journey in all its detail and texture.
For now, in a few snatched moments in the internet, I content myself with reporting that Iquitos is an absolutely intoxicating place, a faded and soporifically lazy tropical dream. At the same time as understanding why many people who live here have the goal of moving somewhere else, you can easily comprend why visitors never want to leave.
Within an hour or so of arriving, both Hugo and I independently concluded that it reminded us of our received image of Cuba. Attractive colonial buildings in the centre, eroded and peeling in the heat. Palm trees hanging lazily in the windless air. Fleets of motorbikes and ancient buses buzzing through the streets. People sitting outside corner stores and motorbike repair workshops playing cards in the evening. Fiestas every night with people of all ages joyously shaking their hips to salsa and cumbia. Beautiful women strolling casually through the plazas. Endless variety of exotic dishes, strange fish and fruits.
I don't have time right now to describe the things we've done so far, but must mention the overwhelming warmth, friendliness and hospitality of the people. These are cliches; nevertheless I defy anyone to find a place where the local population is at once as nice and as interesting as here.
I should mention that is also very safe; this is the first place in Peru where people talk down the dangers rather than exaggerate them. Lima seems like a planet away. Social conditions are not much different from the rest of Peru; it's more that the possibility of crime doesn't seem to occur to many people. It would generally involve moving slightly too fast to be feasible.
Will try and write more when I can.
It was an experience and an adventure, most of everything I had hoped it would be. I'll try and find time in the next few days to describe the journey in all its detail and texture.
For now, in a few snatched moments in the internet, I content myself with reporting that Iquitos is an absolutely intoxicating place, a faded and soporifically lazy tropical dream. At the same time as understanding why many people who live here have the goal of moving somewhere else, you can easily comprend why visitors never want to leave.
Within an hour or so of arriving, both Hugo and I independently concluded that it reminded us of our received image of Cuba. Attractive colonial buildings in the centre, eroded and peeling in the heat. Palm trees hanging lazily in the windless air. Fleets of motorbikes and ancient buses buzzing through the streets. People sitting outside corner stores and motorbike repair workshops playing cards in the evening. Fiestas every night with people of all ages joyously shaking their hips to salsa and cumbia. Beautiful women strolling casually through the plazas. Endless variety of exotic dishes, strange fish and fruits.
I don't have time right now to describe the things we've done so far, but must mention the overwhelming warmth, friendliness and hospitality of the people. These are cliches; nevertheless I defy anyone to find a place where the local population is at once as nice and as interesting as here.
I should mention that is also very safe; this is the first place in Peru where people talk down the dangers rather than exaggerate them. Lima seems like a planet away. Social conditions are not much different from the rest of Peru; it's more that the possibility of crime doesn't seem to occur to many people. It would generally involve moving slightly too fast to be feasible.
Will try and write more when I can.
Thursday, May 11, 2006
Rolling on the River
HUgo and I arrived in Pucallpa Tuesday afternoon after a tiring but tolerable two-leg trip from Arequipa via Lima. We have reserved tickets for Iquitos on a boat called the "Henry", which has claims to being the fastest on the river, and leaves this evening at 5:30.
After looking at the options, we decided to pay a little extra for one of the tiny, hot cabins, as this means we can leave our bags in a secure place and will at least have the option of sleeping in a bed. But we have also bought hammocks and will be able to relax on the (covered deck). The guys selling the tickets made all sorts of extravagant claims about special food for those in the cabins, and armed on-board security, which we didn't believe.
Later this afternoon we will stock up on provisions, including insect repellent, fruit, water and beer, before boarding the boat for what we hope will be an interesting and tolerably comfortable trip.
On the way here, we climbed out of Lima in the evening, crossing the Andes by night. Morning saw us already in Tingo Maria, in the lush lower part of the "ceja de selva". From there we endured two stretches of rough unsealed road, and had to wait for an hour for roadworks, before finally arriving in Pucallpa at around 3:00 in the afternoon. The countryside was green and attractive, ranging from jungly lowlands, to hills with ferns and waterfalls.
Pucallpa is a friendly, surprisingly attractive town, decorated by plams and othe trees and buzzing with swarms of moto taxis, three wheeled vehicles with the front part of a motorbike attached to a passenger platform seating two people. There's evidence of some wealth; Pucallpa is the centre of commerce for a large area, and the wood and petroleum industries are being supplemented by increasing agriculture in the lowlands to the west of the town, plus the beginnings of tourism.
Last night we took a moto taxi out of town to a lagoon which had been recommended to us by another taxi driver. We feasted on the local cuisine, and were surrounded by indigenous women selling crafts. I opted for a píranha tooth necklace, which I hope will protec me against all fierce beast, fish and serpents during my journey.
We then took a launch across the other side of the lagoon to visit an animal reserve run by a kindly ex-policeman who was originally from Camaná in Arequipa. There were several kinds of monkeys, sloths, a range of South American rodents, a boa, an anaconda, and a beautiful ocelot. Most of the animals were in cages, but the monkeys were free to climb in and out.
The animals were also mostly babies or quite young; the owner said he always ended up getting animals dumped on him to take care of, so had decided to start up a nature reserve. It had been going for 8 months; they had just completed a restaurant and were starting on building tourist bungalows. We left a donation for the animals, and talked with the owner's son about creating eco-tourism links with Incaventura and Sudamerica Tours.
From this evening, we will be on the river until we get to Iquitos, so this blog will not be updated for at least three days.
After looking at the options, we decided to pay a little extra for one of the tiny, hot cabins, as this means we can leave our bags in a secure place and will at least have the option of sleeping in a bed. But we have also bought hammocks and will be able to relax on the (covered deck). The guys selling the tickets made all sorts of extravagant claims about special food for those in the cabins, and armed on-board security, which we didn't believe.
Later this afternoon we will stock up on provisions, including insect repellent, fruit, water and beer, before boarding the boat for what we hope will be an interesting and tolerably comfortable trip.
On the way here, we climbed out of Lima in the evening, crossing the Andes by night. Morning saw us already in Tingo Maria, in the lush lower part of the "ceja de selva". From there we endured two stretches of rough unsealed road, and had to wait for an hour for roadworks, before finally arriving in Pucallpa at around 3:00 in the afternoon. The countryside was green and attractive, ranging from jungly lowlands, to hills with ferns and waterfalls.
Pucallpa is a friendly, surprisingly attractive town, decorated by plams and othe trees and buzzing with swarms of moto taxis, three wheeled vehicles with the front part of a motorbike attached to a passenger platform seating two people. There's evidence of some wealth; Pucallpa is the centre of commerce for a large area, and the wood and petroleum industries are being supplemented by increasing agriculture in the lowlands to the west of the town, plus the beginnings of tourism.
Last night we took a moto taxi out of town to a lagoon which had been recommended to us by another taxi driver. We feasted on the local cuisine, and were surrounded by indigenous women selling crafts. I opted for a píranha tooth necklace, which I hope will protec me against all fierce beast, fish and serpents during my journey.
We then took a launch across the other side of the lagoon to visit an animal reserve run by a kindly ex-policeman who was originally from Camaná in Arequipa. There were several kinds of monkeys, sloths, a range of South American rodents, a boa, an anaconda, and a beautiful ocelot. Most of the animals were in cages, but the monkeys were free to climb in and out.
The animals were also mostly babies or quite young; the owner said he always ended up getting animals dumped on him to take care of, so had decided to start up a nature reserve. It had been going for 8 months; they had just completed a restaurant and were starting on building tourist bungalows. We left a donation for the animals, and talked with the owner's son about creating eco-tourism links with Incaventura and Sudamerica Tours.
From this evening, we will be on the river until we get to Iquitos, so this blog will not be updated for at least three days.
Saturday, May 06, 2006
Pasándola Bien, Too
My long-winded accounts of my investigations into issues for the pueblos jovenes of Arequipa shouldn't lead anyone to think that I haven't been having fun as well.
Last Wednesday Lizbeth and Tessy talked me into acting as a guide and taking a Dutch couple to the waterfalls of Sogay. Those who read my blog when I was last in Peru may remember that I "discovered" this walk as a possible tourist attraction, and had made three trips there.
Lizbeth had already sold the trip to the couple, who said they wanted to do something"different", but couldn't get hold of a guide. I was reluctant to go; I wasn't entirely sure of the route (it was a year and a half since I'd been there), and thought the river might be a little high from melting snow.
However, Rafael, with whom I'd gone there twice previously, said that there were now arrows pointing the way to the falls (just what I had suggested in a blog post at the time) so you couldn't go astray. I also thought it would be a good chance for exercise, to burn off some of that comida arequipeña, as well as a favour to Lizbeth, who is giving me free room and board for the entire time I'm here.
It was quite a good trip in the end. The river wasn't any higher than it had been in September / October, but the rainy reason had left countryside awash with green. The normally arid areas beyond the township of Sogay were ablaze with red, orange and yellow wildflowers, and buzzing with birds and butterflies. The strategically positioned painted blue arrows were also a great help in ensuring we didn't get lost.
I took along Ayda, an apprentice from the Incaventura agency. She is the younger sister of Rivelino, who also worked for Incaventura. Their family is from San Juan de Chuccho, a little village at the bottom of the Colca Canyon, and examplify the new generation of rural mestizo migrants to the Peruvian cities. As an exhibition I saw at a gallery of the San Agustin university said, their parents or grandparents lived a near subsistence existence; while this generation "dances to salsa and reggaeton and is studying computing and English at an institute".
Ayda still posseses a healthy dose of country-girl ingenuity and is subject to restrictively close family ties, but is at the same time very into her clothes and makeup. When Tessy suggested she come on the trip to Sogay, I said that would be great but to make sure to wear some sensible clothes. "It's a trek over rough ground and you're likely to get wet crossing the river", I harrumphed. "Don't think you can just wear tight jeans and flat-soled trainers".
Ayda obeyed my instructions to the extent that she showed up the next morning in leather street shoes and slightly older jeans. But during the walk, although she played the high-maintenance girl ("are we nearly there yet, Simon?"), her country background came out. While I and the tourists struggled along the hot, dusty walk and scramble along the riverbanks, Ayda casually made her way over the rocky bits, across the river, and up the steep and somewhat risky climb to the falls, as if they weren't there.
On Sunday afternoon, we were invited to a "pollada" in the lower-middle class suburb of San Martin in northeastern Arequipa. This is kind of community fiesta, organised by a family or local group, usually held in the street. Fried chicken and beer are served, usually as part of a fund-raising effort.
This particular pollada was supposedly in honour of "la santísima virgen de Fatima", but there was no discernible religious tone to the proceedings - just chicken and beer, plus a performance by a group of mariachis in full costume.
On the way out there, through dusty, potholed streets past houses with peeling paint, I thought that this was one of the less attractive parts of the city, and had a rather depressing feel. But later, as we sat at a table in the middle of a street blocked off by a row of parked cars, enjoying the food and good cheer and laughing at Gerardo's attempts to join a game of football ("no, Gerardo, you have to stand in front of the goal to guard it!"), it occurred to me that these kind of casual, friendly, neighbourhood festivities no longer exist where I come from.
On Monday, which was a public holiday, I took Ayda to eat at La Cecilia, the best known of the typical restaurants to the south of the city at Arancota. These all have big interior and outside patios, and serve huge helpings of traditional Arequipan dishes. On weekends and holidays, they also often have live music.
One of my last trips to Arancota was on my birthday in 2004, and was something of a disaster. I'd picked up a case of food poisoning in Bolivia, and though I'd had a couple of relapses upon eating rich food, thought I was over it.
However, after a long afternoon of scoffing piles of artery-trashing chicharron de chancho (fried pork), litres of beer, and the excitment of the Copa America Peru-Argentina quarter final, I discovered later that night that the bugs in my stomach weren't yet entirely gone. The violent reaction of my metabolism lasted most of the night; it was close to the sickest I've ever been for a short period, as my afternoon's consumption was rejected in, shall we say, both directions. I was eventually cured the next day by a rather execrable "home remedy" cooked up by Hugo to supplement the powerful, unprescribed antibiotics supplied by his nurse technician cousin.
On Monday, though, I suffered no such problems. After being frustrated in my search for lighter items on the menu - arroz con pato and tamales were "weekends only"- I settled for a huge heap of fried chicken. Washed down with plenty of beer and burned off by marathon dancing efforts to the brassy salsa, merengue and cumbia pumped out by the house band, it was all part of a great afternoon.
There's also been several trips to discotheques, and I've rediscovered the joys of dancing salsa, as well as the possibility of going out and doing something other than just drinking.
Today (Saturday) is likely to be my penultimate in Arequipa, and I'm contributing the food and alcohol for another parrillada at Hugo and Lizbeth's place. It's with considerable reluctance that I'm moving on, but I'm just grateful that I've been able to pass such a happy couple of weeks. And I have to remember the original purpose of my trip - more adventure awaits in the jungle.
Last Wednesday Lizbeth and Tessy talked me into acting as a guide and taking a Dutch couple to the waterfalls of Sogay. Those who read my blog when I was last in Peru may remember that I "discovered" this walk as a possible tourist attraction, and had made three trips there.
Lizbeth had already sold the trip to the couple, who said they wanted to do something"different", but couldn't get hold of a guide. I was reluctant to go; I wasn't entirely sure of the route (it was a year and a half since I'd been there), and thought the river might be a little high from melting snow.
However, Rafael, with whom I'd gone there twice previously, said that there were now arrows pointing the way to the falls (just what I had suggested in a blog post at the time) so you couldn't go astray. I also thought it would be a good chance for exercise, to burn off some of that comida arequipeña, as well as a favour to Lizbeth, who is giving me free room and board for the entire time I'm here.
It was quite a good trip in the end. The river wasn't any higher than it had been in September / October, but the rainy reason had left countryside awash with green. The normally arid areas beyond the township of Sogay were ablaze with red, orange and yellow wildflowers, and buzzing with birds and butterflies. The strategically positioned painted blue arrows were also a great help in ensuring we didn't get lost.
I took along Ayda, an apprentice from the Incaventura agency. She is the younger sister of Rivelino, who also worked for Incaventura. Their family is from San Juan de Chuccho, a little village at the bottom of the Colca Canyon, and examplify the new generation of rural mestizo migrants to the Peruvian cities. As an exhibition I saw at a gallery of the San Agustin university said, their parents or grandparents lived a near subsistence existence; while this generation "dances to salsa and reggaeton and is studying computing and English at an institute".
Ayda still posseses a healthy dose of country-girl ingenuity and is subject to restrictively close family ties, but is at the same time very into her clothes and makeup. When Tessy suggested she come on the trip to Sogay, I said that would be great but to make sure to wear some sensible clothes. "It's a trek over rough ground and you're likely to get wet crossing the river", I harrumphed. "Don't think you can just wear tight jeans and flat-soled trainers".
Ayda obeyed my instructions to the extent that she showed up the next morning in leather street shoes and slightly older jeans. But during the walk, although she played the high-maintenance girl ("are we nearly there yet, Simon?"), her country background came out. While I and the tourists struggled along the hot, dusty walk and scramble along the riverbanks, Ayda casually made her way over the rocky bits, across the river, and up the steep and somewhat risky climb to the falls, as if they weren't there.
On Sunday afternoon, we were invited to a "pollada" in the lower-middle class suburb of San Martin in northeastern Arequipa. This is kind of community fiesta, organised by a family or local group, usually held in the street. Fried chicken and beer are served, usually as part of a fund-raising effort.
This particular pollada was supposedly in honour of "la santísima virgen de Fatima", but there was no discernible religious tone to the proceedings - just chicken and beer, plus a performance by a group of mariachis in full costume.
On the way out there, through dusty, potholed streets past houses with peeling paint, I thought that this was one of the less attractive parts of the city, and had a rather depressing feel. But later, as we sat at a table in the middle of a street blocked off by a row of parked cars, enjoying the food and good cheer and laughing at Gerardo's attempts to join a game of football ("no, Gerardo, you have to stand in front of the goal to guard it!"), it occurred to me that these kind of casual, friendly, neighbourhood festivities no longer exist where I come from.
On Monday, which was a public holiday, I took Ayda to eat at La Cecilia, the best known of the typical restaurants to the south of the city at Arancota. These all have big interior and outside patios, and serve huge helpings of traditional Arequipan dishes. On weekends and holidays, they also often have live music.
One of my last trips to Arancota was on my birthday in 2004, and was something of a disaster. I'd picked up a case of food poisoning in Bolivia, and though I'd had a couple of relapses upon eating rich food, thought I was over it.
However, after a long afternoon of scoffing piles of artery-trashing chicharron de chancho (fried pork), litres of beer, and the excitment of the Copa America Peru-Argentina quarter final, I discovered later that night that the bugs in my stomach weren't yet entirely gone. The violent reaction of my metabolism lasted most of the night; it was close to the sickest I've ever been for a short period, as my afternoon's consumption was rejected in, shall we say, both directions. I was eventually cured the next day by a rather execrable "home remedy" cooked up by Hugo to supplement the powerful, unprescribed antibiotics supplied by his nurse technician cousin.
On Monday, though, I suffered no such problems. After being frustrated in my search for lighter items on the menu - arroz con pato and tamales were "weekends only"- I settled for a huge heap of fried chicken. Washed down with plenty of beer and burned off by marathon dancing efforts to the brassy salsa, merengue and cumbia pumped out by the house band, it was all part of a great afternoon.
There's also been several trips to discotheques, and I've rediscovered the joys of dancing salsa, as well as the possibility of going out and doing something other than just drinking.
Today (Saturday) is likely to be my penultimate in Arequipa, and I'm contributing the food and alcohol for another parrillada at Hugo and Lizbeth's place. It's with considerable reluctance that I'm moving on, but I'm just grateful that I've been able to pass such a happy couple of weeks. And I have to remember the original purpose of my trip - more adventure awaits in the jungle.
Friday, May 05, 2006
The Mayor and the Engineer
On the ground floor of the municipality there were a confusing series of offices and counters and a lot of people waiting. We had been advised that we had to talk to the mayor in order to get any action. I was fully expecting us to have to take a ticket to wait our turn to talk to a clerk to make a preliminary appointment with the mayor for some days hence.
I was just looking around to figure out in which section we would have to do that, when Ilona simply bowled up to one of the security guards and said that we wanted to talk to the mayor. "OK, just head up the stairs" said the guard. It turned out that the mayor and the chief engineer hold court on Monday and Tuesday mornings, receiving complaints and petitions from their offices on the second floor.
After being directed to take seats by a smiling woman in the public relations department, we didn't have to wait long before we were ushered into the office of the mayor. On hearing that we there to enquire about Villa Ecologica, the secretary sent us in at the same time as a young woman who turned out to herself be from Villa Ecologica.
The woman was called Julita, and she recognised us. "Hey, weren't you guys in the community yesterday?", she asked, smiling. "In a maroon jeep?". She had been one of the people working collecting scraps of rock in the dust beside the track uphill where we had passed in the 4WD.
The mayor and the chief engineer were both robust, jovial men in their forties. Ilona and I were keen to get straight to the question of the health campaign, but the mayor was already in full flow. "You've come about Villa Ecologica, no?", he said. "You're interested in the water situation, then".
We decided to go with the water, given that the chief engineer Salinas, whom Ilona had spoken with previously, was present. "The problem about supplying water just to Villa Ecologica", said the mayor, "is that it would be a major investment for relatively few people. "Any solution needs to be part of an integrated project that can benefit a greater number of people".
But couldn't it be done relatively cheaply, I asked, and explained the proposal of pumping the water over the hill from the river. "Aha, nice idea", replied the mayor. "But it won't work. The problem is that the river at that point is contaminated. There would need to be a treatment plant installed, which as I'm sure know, costs a lot of money".
I said we had been told that there were no farms or anything further upstream. He said that in fact there were several settlements a way further upstream, including a police camp, whose drains were discharged into the river.
"Anyway", continued the mayor, "we have a better plan, which will bring water to a greater number of people. Wait, let's bring in the whiteboard".
During the lengthy wait while the mayor and chief engineer Salinas hunted down a whiteboard and were accosted by various other petitioners, we chatted to Julita. In contrast to the common image of poor, struggling people from marginal zones, she was bright, positive, articulate and well-informed.
She said she was from the northern jungle, beyond Iquitos, and had left home at age 12, arriving in Arequipa through "a long story of adventure". She said the main issue for Villa Ecologica, apart from water, was that the community was dominated by solo mothers and "abandoned women".
"And I admit - I'm one of those solo mothers", she grinned. "But I only have one child. And I don't see why being a solo mother should make me helpless. There's always something to do, some way to advance. If there's no work, you can always find something to sell. But fortunately, right now the council is supporting our work that you saw us doing".
I said that the work looked pretty back-breaking. "Yes, it's hard work, but at least it's regular", said Julita.
She said that one of the main problems in the community was the sheer number of kids, caused by complete lack of family planning. Women didn't " take care of themselves" (cuidarse is the euphemistic verb employed here to refer to using contraception), firstly, because of a lack of information, and secondly, because their husbands blankly refused. "They think that if their wives want to use contraception it's so they can cheat on them", said Julita. "Right, so then they end up with five, six, seven kids. And then, the husband decides to run off, leaving the woman with all the kids".
Julita said some of programmes supported by NGOs "didn't help", by creating perverse incentives. "You have three kids, you're eligible for getting a latrine built", she said. "Four, and they might help you with a new kitchen. Five, and they might provide you with a house. In other words, there's an incentive to be helpless and dependent. If you stick to one kid, work hard, and try to get ahead, you don't get any help".
By then the mayor and the engineer returned with the whiteboard, and the engineer proceeded to provide a layman's account of the project that they proposed. It involved running a new pipeline from one of the main Arequipa pipelines, uphill to a central high point at 2,700 metres. This would involve the installation of two additional pump houses and the construction of a reservoir on top of the mirador.
From there, water would flow downhill to the five or so pueblos jovenes in Selva Alegre. The engineer Salinas drew a detailed side bar of how things would work in Villa Ecologica. To supply water to Villa Ecologica would require a small "regulatory" reservoir uphill from the township, connecting pipelines, and a reticulated network to supply each house.
The whole project was estimated to cost around $2.5 million USD, while the Villa Ecologica section would cost about $600,000.
This all looked great on the whiteboard, we said, but when was it likely to occur? In fact, said the mayor, the first stage - the pipeline uphill from the main Arequipa supply was already fully planned, and the Arequipan provinical government had agreed to finance it. Construction was slated to start within a month. Municipal elections were scheduled for November, and, said the mayor, "people need to see that we've made a start".
However, for the supply to reach the pueblos jovenes, they also needed to do their bit. "You should never", said the mayor wagging his finger, "give people something for nothing. It leads to unrealistic expectations". As a contribution to the planning for the initial stage, each resident of the Selva Alegre pueblos jovenes had been asked to give 3 soles (about 90c US). So far, the only township not to pay in full was Villa Ecologica, which had collected less than half their designated amount.
Julita shook her head. "It's just that the president doesn't mention this in our weekly meetings", she said. "He talks about other things, but misses this stuff out".
In any case, said the mayor, any progress in Villa Ecologica would require an "expediente técnico" or detailed study of the terrain. The estimated cost would be about $12,000 USD. However, this could be reduced if the municipality could get hold of the mysterious plans of the Villa Ecologica residential area, which were thought to be in the hands of Vladirimo, el presidente.
We agreed to renew efforts to get hold of Vladimiro and ask him about the plans. We also agreed that Ilona would go with the engineer Salinas to the civil engineering department at la Catolica to look for students to help with the studies.
After the elaborate explanations of the water situation, we managed to move on to the question of the health campaign. I explained what we had been told at the university, and pointedly mentioned that the municipality of Socabaya has already arranged their health campaign.
"Right, no problem", said the mayor. "We'll write the letter now" - and he went next door to find his secretary. She wasn't there, but to make sure it would definitely happen, we said that Ilona would come back next morning at 9 am, collect the letter, and deliver it by hand to the university.
Our meeting wasn't yet over, as the mayor and the engineer felt like some more conversation. We talked about politics (the mayor was an Aprista; "if Alan is elected this will all happen quicker", he said). We were given an in-depth explanation of a cheap, environmentally friendly drainage system developed in Brazil and Bolivia and being piloted by the municipality in a nearby villge called Javier Herault.
We then moved on to the etymology of the town's unusual, French-sounding name. The mayor explained that it was named after a 1960s, Che Guevara-type rebel, who had also been a poet. "The town is named in his honour for his poetry, not for being a communist", he laughed. Apparently, young Javier had not been much of a fighter. "He used his rifle like a guitar", explained the mayor. "He lasted about five minutes as a guerrilla".
After more conversation, pleasantries, and exchange of contact details, we eventually staggered out into the sunlight, desperate for something to eat. We had been in the council offices over two and a half hours. One thing you can guarantee about Peru - people love to talk.
In New Zealand, I reckon, the whole meeting would have taken about ten minutes.
I was just looking around to figure out in which section we would have to do that, when Ilona simply bowled up to one of the security guards and said that we wanted to talk to the mayor. "OK, just head up the stairs" said the guard. It turned out that the mayor and the chief engineer hold court on Monday and Tuesday mornings, receiving complaints and petitions from their offices on the second floor.
After being directed to take seats by a smiling woman in the public relations department, we didn't have to wait long before we were ushered into the office of the mayor. On hearing that we there to enquire about Villa Ecologica, the secretary sent us in at the same time as a young woman who turned out to herself be from Villa Ecologica.
The woman was called Julita, and she recognised us. "Hey, weren't you guys in the community yesterday?", she asked, smiling. "In a maroon jeep?". She had been one of the people working collecting scraps of rock in the dust beside the track uphill where we had passed in the 4WD.
The mayor and the chief engineer were both robust, jovial men in their forties. Ilona and I were keen to get straight to the question of the health campaign, but the mayor was already in full flow. "You've come about Villa Ecologica, no?", he said. "You're interested in the water situation, then".
We decided to go with the water, given that the chief engineer Salinas, whom Ilona had spoken with previously, was present. "The problem about supplying water just to Villa Ecologica", said the mayor, "is that it would be a major investment for relatively few people. "Any solution needs to be part of an integrated project that can benefit a greater number of people".
But couldn't it be done relatively cheaply, I asked, and explained the proposal of pumping the water over the hill from the river. "Aha, nice idea", replied the mayor. "But it won't work. The problem is that the river at that point is contaminated. There would need to be a treatment plant installed, which as I'm sure know, costs a lot of money".
I said we had been told that there were no farms or anything further upstream. He said that in fact there were several settlements a way further upstream, including a police camp, whose drains were discharged into the river.
"Anyway", continued the mayor, "we have a better plan, which will bring water to a greater number of people. Wait, let's bring in the whiteboard".
During the lengthy wait while the mayor and chief engineer Salinas hunted down a whiteboard and were accosted by various other petitioners, we chatted to Julita. In contrast to the common image of poor, struggling people from marginal zones, she was bright, positive, articulate and well-informed.
She said she was from the northern jungle, beyond Iquitos, and had left home at age 12, arriving in Arequipa through "a long story of adventure". She said the main issue for Villa Ecologica, apart from water, was that the community was dominated by solo mothers and "abandoned women".
"And I admit - I'm one of those solo mothers", she grinned. "But I only have one child. And I don't see why being a solo mother should make me helpless. There's always something to do, some way to advance. If there's no work, you can always find something to sell. But fortunately, right now the council is supporting our work that you saw us doing".
I said that the work looked pretty back-breaking. "Yes, it's hard work, but at least it's regular", said Julita.
She said that one of the main problems in the community was the sheer number of kids, caused by complete lack of family planning. Women didn't " take care of themselves" (cuidarse is the euphemistic verb employed here to refer to using contraception), firstly, because of a lack of information, and secondly, because their husbands blankly refused. "They think that if their wives want to use contraception it's so they can cheat on them", said Julita. "Right, so then they end up with five, six, seven kids. And then, the husband decides to run off, leaving the woman with all the kids".
Julita said some of programmes supported by NGOs "didn't help", by creating perverse incentives. "You have three kids, you're eligible for getting a latrine built", she said. "Four, and they might help you with a new kitchen. Five, and they might provide you with a house. In other words, there's an incentive to be helpless and dependent. If you stick to one kid, work hard, and try to get ahead, you don't get any help".
By then the mayor and the engineer returned with the whiteboard, and the engineer proceeded to provide a layman's account of the project that they proposed. It involved running a new pipeline from one of the main Arequipa pipelines, uphill to a central high point at 2,700 metres. This would involve the installation of two additional pump houses and the construction of a reservoir on top of the mirador.
From there, water would flow downhill to the five or so pueblos jovenes in Selva Alegre. The engineer Salinas drew a detailed side bar of how things would work in Villa Ecologica. To supply water to Villa Ecologica would require a small "regulatory" reservoir uphill from the township, connecting pipelines, and a reticulated network to supply each house.
The whole project was estimated to cost around $2.5 million USD, while the Villa Ecologica section would cost about $600,000.
This all looked great on the whiteboard, we said, but when was it likely to occur? In fact, said the mayor, the first stage - the pipeline uphill from the main Arequipa supply was already fully planned, and the Arequipan provinical government had agreed to finance it. Construction was slated to start within a month. Municipal elections were scheduled for November, and, said the mayor, "people need to see that we've made a start".
However, for the supply to reach the pueblos jovenes, they also needed to do their bit. "You should never", said the mayor wagging his finger, "give people something for nothing. It leads to unrealistic expectations". As a contribution to the planning for the initial stage, each resident of the Selva Alegre pueblos jovenes had been asked to give 3 soles (about 90c US). So far, the only township not to pay in full was Villa Ecologica, which had collected less than half their designated amount.
Julita shook her head. "It's just that the president doesn't mention this in our weekly meetings", she said. "He talks about other things, but misses this stuff out".
In any case, said the mayor, any progress in Villa Ecologica would require an "expediente técnico" or detailed study of the terrain. The estimated cost would be about $12,000 USD. However, this could be reduced if the municipality could get hold of the mysterious plans of the Villa Ecologica residential area, which were thought to be in the hands of Vladirimo, el presidente.
We agreed to renew efforts to get hold of Vladimiro and ask him about the plans. We also agreed that Ilona would go with the engineer Salinas to the civil engineering department at la Catolica to look for students to help with the studies.
After the elaborate explanations of the water situation, we managed to move on to the question of the health campaign. I explained what we had been told at the university, and pointedly mentioned that the municipality of Socabaya has already arranged their health campaign.
"Right, no problem", said the mayor. "We'll write the letter now" - and he went next door to find his secretary. She wasn't there, but to make sure it would definitely happen, we said that Ilona would come back next morning at 9 am, collect the letter, and deliver it by hand to the university.
Our meeting wasn't yet over, as the mayor and the engineer felt like some more conversation. We talked about politics (the mayor was an Aprista; "if Alan is elected this will all happen quicker", he said). We were given an in-depth explanation of a cheap, environmentally friendly drainage system developed in Brazil and Bolivia and being piloted by the municipality in a nearby villge called Javier Herault.
We then moved on to the etymology of the town's unusual, French-sounding name. The mayor explained that it was named after a 1960s, Che Guevara-type rebel, who had also been a poet. "The town is named in his honour for his poetry, not for being a communist", he laughed. Apparently, young Javier had not been much of a fighter. "He used his rifle like a guitar", explained the mayor. "He lasted about five minutes as a guerrilla".
After more conversation, pleasantries, and exchange of contact details, we eventually staggered out into the sunlight, desperate for something to eat. We had been in the council offices over two and a half hours. One thing you can guarantee about Peru - people love to talk.
In New Zealand, I reckon, the whole meeting would have taken about ten minutes.
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
A Visit to the University
On Tuesday Ilona came round bright and early and we headed off in a kombi to La Catolica university. Though she speaks excellent English, her Spanish is rather rudimentary, so as well as getting interesting information, I would be a significant help to her in her various meetings.
A week or two previously, Ilona had been to the university with the idea of seeing whether they could help with social programmes in Villa Ecologica. She bailed up the rector, who referred her to a woman named (as it transpired) señora Angelica in the multidisciplinary Department of Social Projects. When we arrived, Ilona admitted that she didn't know the name of the person, position, or department we were looking for, but that it was "round about here", as we climbed stairways, crossed courtyards and walked down corridors.
Ultimately we did happen upon the right office and person, entering while a meeting was in progress. The señora Angelica broke off to talk to us. Ilona had told me that the university's response had been quite positive when she suggested a health campaign for Villa Ecologica, and she was hopeful that something would happen soon. But when we spoke to the profesora, she explained the situation more clearly.
In order for la Catolica to undertake a health campaign, it had to receive a formal request from a public organization, preferably the municipality. It could not run a campaign simply because we thought it was a good idea; nor could they take a request from an NGO or even from the Villa Ecologica community association itself.
She said that the day after Ilona's visit, they had rung the Selva Alegre council offices to see whether they would put in a formal request for a health campaign. By mistake, they had rung the offices of the municipality of Socabaya - another poor, outlying area. The Socabaya council had been enthusiastic, and in fact their letter requesting a health campaign promptly arrived the next day.
Later, they had tried to ring Selva Alegre again, and had been put through to the Public Relations department, who had said yes, they would pass the message on regarding a possible health campaign. A week and a half later, no further word had been received from Selva Alegre.
The señora Angelica explained that there were two types of campaigns run by the university. The smaller, "focussed" campaigns were run Mondays to Fridays, and included paediatrics, general practice and dentistry / oral health. "Integrated" campaigns were run on Sundays, and included all specialities. In answer to my confession of ignorance, she explained that campaigns consisted in medical assessments, ordering of appropriate treatments or vaccines, and health education and promotion.
I asked what was the role of the Ministry of Health in ensuring primary and preventive health services to poor communities, and she said that the Ministry was limited to providing vaccines.
For an integrated campaign, said Angelica, it was necessary to have at least 2,000 families. This seemed to me to be a rather arbitrary figure, given that we had just told her that there were about 1,500 families in Villa Ecologica. But nothing at all could happen, she reminded us, until they got a formal request from the municipality.
Ilona seemed a bit frustrated that things weren't moving quite as fast as she'd hoped. I told her that such hoops to jump through were only to be expected; not only was this how things worked in Peru, it was typical of all bureaucracies. The only thing for it was to go and hassle the municipality to write their letter of request.
So we headed off in a taxi, with the intention of trying to talk to the mayor of Selva Alegre.
Categories: Arequipa, South America, Peru
A week or two previously, Ilona had been to the university with the idea of seeing whether they could help with social programmes in Villa Ecologica. She bailed up the rector, who referred her to a woman named (as it transpired) señora Angelica in the multidisciplinary Department of Social Projects. When we arrived, Ilona admitted that she didn't know the name of the person, position, or department we were looking for, but that it was "round about here", as we climbed stairways, crossed courtyards and walked down corridors.
Ultimately we did happen upon the right office and person, entering while a meeting was in progress. The señora Angelica broke off to talk to us. Ilona had told me that the university's response had been quite positive when she suggested a health campaign for Villa Ecologica, and she was hopeful that something would happen soon. But when we spoke to the profesora, she explained the situation more clearly.
In order for la Catolica to undertake a health campaign, it had to receive a formal request from a public organization, preferably the municipality. It could not run a campaign simply because we thought it was a good idea; nor could they take a request from an NGO or even from the Villa Ecologica community association itself.
She said that the day after Ilona's visit, they had rung the Selva Alegre council offices to see whether they would put in a formal request for a health campaign. By mistake, they had rung the offices of the municipality of Socabaya - another poor, outlying area. The Socabaya council had been enthusiastic, and in fact their letter requesting a health campaign promptly arrived the next day.
Later, they had tried to ring Selva Alegre again, and had been put through to the Public Relations department, who had said yes, they would pass the message on regarding a possible health campaign. A week and a half later, no further word had been received from Selva Alegre.
The señora Angelica explained that there were two types of campaigns run by the university. The smaller, "focussed" campaigns were run Mondays to Fridays, and included paediatrics, general practice and dentistry / oral health. "Integrated" campaigns were run on Sundays, and included all specialities. In answer to my confession of ignorance, she explained that campaigns consisted in medical assessments, ordering of appropriate treatments or vaccines, and health education and promotion.
I asked what was the role of the Ministry of Health in ensuring primary and preventive health services to poor communities, and she said that the Ministry was limited to providing vaccines.
For an integrated campaign, said Angelica, it was necessary to have at least 2,000 families. This seemed to me to be a rather arbitrary figure, given that we had just told her that there were about 1,500 families in Villa Ecologica. But nothing at all could happen, she reminded us, until they got a formal request from the municipality.
Ilona seemed a bit frustrated that things weren't moving quite as fast as she'd hoped. I told her that such hoops to jump through were only to be expected; not only was this how things worked in Peru, it was typical of all bureaucracies. The only thing for it was to go and hassle the municipality to write their letter of request.
So we headed off in a taxi, with the intention of trying to talk to the mayor of Selva Alegre.
Categories: Arequipa, South America, Peru
Sunday, April 30, 2006
Villa Ecologica
Driving up through the suburb of Alto Selva Alegre towards the flanks of El Misti, the basic but tidy houses of brick and concrete peter out, and the sealed road comes to an end. You're now entering the zone of the "pueblos jovenes" ("young towns"). These are the Peruvian equivalent of the Colombian comunas or the Brazilian favelas - new, informal settlements populated by the poor and marginalized who have often migrated from rural areas in search of a better life.
On Monday morning we headed up in Hugo's 4-wheel drive to visit one of the newest and poorest pueblitos, called Villa Ecologica. It's common for these shantytowns to bear unrealistically optimistic names, such as the "City of God" depicted in the Brazilian film of the same name. "Villa Ecologica", however, does bear some relation to reality, the name coming from the one-time designation of the terrain in and beyond the settlement as a provinical park.
My introduction to the case of Villa Ecologica was thanks to Ilona, a Polish postgraduate sociology student who came to Arequipa through an AISEC (international student organisation) exchange programme, hoping to work in social projects. Hugo is registered with AISEC to provide work experience to students, and Ilona was put in contaact with him.
As can be Hugo's way, he hadn't been entirely straight with Ilona about what she would be doing, and she ended up involved in boring tasks in the agency office for most of her first couple of months. But Hugo did manage to introduce her to contacts in Villa Ecologica, where he had delivered some of his own well-meaning though sporadic projects, such as organizing a Christmas party and presents for the children of the settlement.
Ilona explained the results of her investigations so far. The one thing which came absolutely on top of the list of areas where Villa Ecologica needed help was, unsurprisingly, water. In a city which scrapes a bare 100mm annual rainfall, water supply is always going to become a problem. The greenness of the valley which so attracted the Incas and the Spanish is largely a result of irrigation from the river Chili, which wends its way down from the sierra.
But as Arequipa has sprawled out the north, uphill towards the slopes of El Misti, the new areas are cut off from the river, and have no easy access to water. Misti, the city's icon, itself supplies no water. At present, the inhabitants of Villa Ecologica make do with communal tanks which are filled once a week by water which is trucked in and costs 48 soles (about $15 USD) for a tankload. They then have to fill up buckets and carry them several blocks to their own dwellings to supply their needs.
Ilona told me that she had gone to talk to an engineer at the Municipality of Selva Alegre about the possibility of connecting the town water supply to Villa Ecologica. She said she was told that this would be a very costly project to supply just Villa Ecologica; the pueblito holds around 3,500 families, of whom less than 2,000 are resident now. The municipality would prefer to undertake a project that could benefit a greater number of people.
There was another possibility. Villa Ecologica backs into a steep hillside. On the other side of the hill, at the bottom of a steep quebrada, is the river Chili. If this water could be pumped the short distance uphill and held in a medium-sized reservoir, it could then be distributed downhill to Villa Ecologica at a moderate cost. Hugo said that while bringing the water from the main Arequipa supply would run into the millions, pumping it over the hill could be done for an estimated $200,000 USD.
Essential to any progress with such a project were proper topographical plans of the area. Hugo said they had already commissioned studies of the hillside from the river to the top of the hill. Two masters students in civil engineering from La Catolica University were also interested in doing a project on the area. In addition, it was thought that a detailed mapping of the township had been commissioned, if not already completed.
Such plans would be vital to any proposal for a project to supply water. Hugo and Ilona understood that money had been collected from the community residents for the studies. But when they had asked Vladimiro, the president of the community association, about the existence of the plans, he had been vague and evasive.
For Villa Ecologica, water was the priority on which everyone could agree. But Ilona had also talked to people such as the señora Beti, teacher at Villa Ecologica's kindergarten, who had different perspectives on the problems of the pueblito. Many of the residents are single mothers who face enormous difficulties bringing up their young children amidst grinding poverty. Ilona was also looking into the possibility of getting La Catolica to run a health campaign in the settlement.
I wanted to see all this for myself, so we decided to head up to the settlement. As we turned off the sealed road to bump our way into Villa Ecologica, we passed one-room houses made of large blocks of stone crudely plastered together and looking just high enough for a short person to stand up. In between were heaps of rubbly rock which may or may not have served as fences, or perhaps were intended for further construction. It wasn't hard to believe Hugo's comment that "this is probably the poorest part of Arequipa".
Most available wall-like structures carried some kind of political propaganda. Although I was assured that the majority of residents were supporters of Ollanta Humala, the dominant piece of graffiti was "Ollanta Asesino" scrawled on several walls, with a variation of "Ollanta Asesino de Policias". The latter seemed to refer to the actions of Antauro, Ollanta's brother, whose "rebellion" in Andahuaylas in New Year 2005, had led to the death of four policemen.
We were initially looking for Vladimiro, to ask him again about the plans of the settlement. But he wasn't at home, nor in the comedor where he is apparently often to be found.
We carried on out of the settlement and up the hill. On a bend of the increasingly rough track, about fifteen people were working in a little infierno of heat and dust, heaping together piles of shattered rock. Hugo said that they were collecting material which would be trucked downhill and used in various construction projects. Despite the conditions, the workers looked in good spirits, and several smiled and waved at us as we drove past.
At the top of the hill we found a spectacular view down to the river and green terraces on the opposite bank, and a small concrete reservoir. Hugo said the reservoir had been put there when the ecological park had been planned for the area beyond the current settlement; water was to have been pumped over the hill for irrigation. The plans were canned when the local government changed.
"But you see - it's obviously a logistical possibility", he said. Initial enquries had been made about whether the reservoir could be used to supply Villa Ecologica if the rest of the infrastructure were in place. Ilona said the council had said no; it was too close to some power lines, which ran just overhead. "Which begs the question why they put it there in the first place - or why they put the power lines there later", she said.
As we came back down the hill, the people working on the hillside waved at us again. One of the men made a drinking motion with his hands. "Did we bring any water?", I asked Hugo. He shook his head. We drove on, embarrassed that we hadn't even been able to offer some simple assistance.
Back in the settlement, we decided to look for the señora Beti. Not everybody in the township was ilooking so positive. A young woman lingering on a corner barely raised her head when we asked for directions. With something between a grunt and whimper, she gestured uphill.
We drove up the hill towards a new-looking building of brightly-painted concrete, which doubles as a chapel and kindergarten. It even had a slightly pitched roof - a definite indulgence in Arequipa.
Kindergarten was just getting out as we arrived. Young women smiled and greeted us, and there were kids laughing and playing with dogs in the dirt. We waited for the señora Beti, who was a tiny woman with a friendly but serious expression.
I said I was interested in writing something about community development in pueblos jovenes like Villa Ecologica, and the obstacles they face. She nodded, nd began to briefly enumerate the social problems of the community. "Domestic violence; solo mothers with no support; children shut in the house all day while their mothers go off to try and make money; alcoholism; children growing up without fathers; juvenile delinquency; lots of health problems", she listed.
Beti didn't have much time at that moment, but she said she would be happy to talk in more detail about life in the community and its problematic issues when she had the opportunity. We offered to collect her and bring her down to Hugo's place when she had more time.
We also agreed to keep chasing after the president, to try and discover the truth about the topographical plans of the township.
Categories: Arequipa, South America, Peru
On Monday morning we headed up in Hugo's 4-wheel drive to visit one of the newest and poorest pueblitos, called Villa Ecologica. It's common for these shantytowns to bear unrealistically optimistic names, such as the "City of God" depicted in the Brazilian film of the same name. "Villa Ecologica", however, does bear some relation to reality, the name coming from the one-time designation of the terrain in and beyond the settlement as a provinical park.
My introduction to the case of Villa Ecologica was thanks to Ilona, a Polish postgraduate sociology student who came to Arequipa through an AISEC (international student organisation) exchange programme, hoping to work in social projects. Hugo is registered with AISEC to provide work experience to students, and Ilona was put in contaact with him.
As can be Hugo's way, he hadn't been entirely straight with Ilona about what she would be doing, and she ended up involved in boring tasks in the agency office for most of her first couple of months. But Hugo did manage to introduce her to contacts in Villa Ecologica, where he had delivered some of his own well-meaning though sporadic projects, such as organizing a Christmas party and presents for the children of the settlement.
Ilona explained the results of her investigations so far. The one thing which came absolutely on top of the list of areas where Villa Ecologica needed help was, unsurprisingly, water. In a city which scrapes a bare 100mm annual rainfall, water supply is always going to become a problem. The greenness of the valley which so attracted the Incas and the Spanish is largely a result of irrigation from the river Chili, which wends its way down from the sierra.
But as Arequipa has sprawled out the north, uphill towards the slopes of El Misti, the new areas are cut off from the river, and have no easy access to water. Misti, the city's icon, itself supplies no water. At present, the inhabitants of Villa Ecologica make do with communal tanks which are filled once a week by water which is trucked in and costs 48 soles (about $15 USD) for a tankload. They then have to fill up buckets and carry them several blocks to their own dwellings to supply their needs.
Ilona told me that she had gone to talk to an engineer at the Municipality of Selva Alegre about the possibility of connecting the town water supply to Villa Ecologica. She said she was told that this would be a very costly project to supply just Villa Ecologica; the pueblito holds around 3,500 families, of whom less than 2,000 are resident now. The municipality would prefer to undertake a project that could benefit a greater number of people.
There was another possibility. Villa Ecologica backs into a steep hillside. On the other side of the hill, at the bottom of a steep quebrada, is the river Chili. If this water could be pumped the short distance uphill and held in a medium-sized reservoir, it could then be distributed downhill to Villa Ecologica at a moderate cost. Hugo said that while bringing the water from the main Arequipa supply would run into the millions, pumping it over the hill could be done for an estimated $200,000 USD.
Essential to any progress with such a project were proper topographical plans of the area. Hugo said they had already commissioned studies of the hillside from the river to the top of the hill. Two masters students in civil engineering from La Catolica University were also interested in doing a project on the area. In addition, it was thought that a detailed mapping of the township had been commissioned, if not already completed.
Such plans would be vital to any proposal for a project to supply water. Hugo and Ilona understood that money had been collected from the community residents for the studies. But when they had asked Vladimiro, the president of the community association, about the existence of the plans, he had been vague and evasive.
For Villa Ecologica, water was the priority on which everyone could agree. But Ilona had also talked to people such as the señora Beti, teacher at Villa Ecologica's kindergarten, who had different perspectives on the problems of the pueblito. Many of the residents are single mothers who face enormous difficulties bringing up their young children amidst grinding poverty. Ilona was also looking into the possibility of getting La Catolica to run a health campaign in the settlement.
I wanted to see all this for myself, so we decided to head up to the settlement. As we turned off the sealed road to bump our way into Villa Ecologica, we passed one-room houses made of large blocks of stone crudely plastered together and looking just high enough for a short person to stand up. In between were heaps of rubbly rock which may or may not have served as fences, or perhaps were intended for further construction. It wasn't hard to believe Hugo's comment that "this is probably the poorest part of Arequipa".
Most available wall-like structures carried some kind of political propaganda. Although I was assured that the majority of residents were supporters of Ollanta Humala, the dominant piece of graffiti was "Ollanta Asesino" scrawled on several walls, with a variation of "Ollanta Asesino de Policias". The latter seemed to refer to the actions of Antauro, Ollanta's brother, whose "rebellion" in Andahuaylas in New Year 2005, had led to the death of four policemen.
We were initially looking for Vladimiro, to ask him again about the plans of the settlement. But he wasn't at home, nor in the comedor where he is apparently often to be found.
We carried on out of the settlement and up the hill. On a bend of the increasingly rough track, about fifteen people were working in a little infierno of heat and dust, heaping together piles of shattered rock. Hugo said that they were collecting material which would be trucked downhill and used in various construction projects. Despite the conditions, the workers looked in good spirits, and several smiled and waved at us as we drove past.
At the top of the hill we found a spectacular view down to the river and green terraces on the opposite bank, and a small concrete reservoir. Hugo said the reservoir had been put there when the ecological park had been planned for the area beyond the current settlement; water was to have been pumped over the hill for irrigation. The plans were canned when the local government changed.
"But you see - it's obviously a logistical possibility", he said. Initial enquries had been made about whether the reservoir could be used to supply Villa Ecologica if the rest of the infrastructure were in place. Ilona said the council had said no; it was too close to some power lines, which ran just overhead. "Which begs the question why they put it there in the first place - or why they put the power lines there later", she said.
As we came back down the hill, the people working on the hillside waved at us again. One of the men made a drinking motion with his hands. "Did we bring any water?", I asked Hugo. He shook his head. We drove on, embarrassed that we hadn't even been able to offer some simple assistance.
Back in the settlement, we decided to look for the señora Beti. Not everybody in the township was ilooking so positive. A young woman lingering on a corner barely raised her head when we asked for directions. With something between a grunt and whimper, she gestured uphill.
We drove up the hill towards a new-looking building of brightly-painted concrete, which doubles as a chapel and kindergarten. It even had a slightly pitched roof - a definite indulgence in Arequipa.
Kindergarten was just getting out as we arrived. Young women smiled and greeted us, and there were kids laughing and playing with dogs in the dirt. We waited for the señora Beti, who was a tiny woman with a friendly but serious expression.
I said I was interested in writing something about community development in pueblos jovenes like Villa Ecologica, and the obstacles they face. She nodded, nd began to briefly enumerate the social problems of the community. "Domestic violence; solo mothers with no support; children shut in the house all day while their mothers go off to try and make money; alcoholism; children growing up without fathers; juvenile delinquency; lots of health problems", she listed.
Beti didn't have much time at that moment, but she said she would be happy to talk in more detail about life in the community and its problematic issues when she had the opportunity. We offered to collect her and bring her down to Hugo's place when she had more time.
We also agreed to keep chasing after the president, to try and discover the truth about the topographical plans of the township.
Categories: Arequipa, South America, Peru
Friday, April 28, 2006
Then There Were Two
The second round of voting in the Peruvian presidential elections is now almost certain to pit Alan Garcia against Ollanta Humala. Lourdes Flores' Unidad Nacional party hasn't yet given up, and are contesting the legitimacy of votes from some polling stations, but with all votes counted Lourdes is 0.6 percent, or 60,000 votes, behind Alan.
The two remaining candidates have already made proxy starts to their second-round campaigns, each making visits to the other's stronghold. Alan visited Puno, a region which voted heavily for Humala, while Ollanta appeared in Trujillo, the traditional base of support for Alan Garcia's party APRA.
At present, almost nobody is willing to predict the outcome of the second round, largely because, of the 45 percent of Peruvians who didn't vote for either Alan or Ollanta, many would be loathe to support wither candidate.
For all that Humala is feared for his authoritarian tendencies, there are a lot of people who could never bring themselves to back Alan after his disastrous first presidency. My friends Hugo and Lizbeth are an example. They both voted Lourdes in the first round, but, though they don't have much confidence in what an Humala presidency would mean for tourism, they will be voting for Ollanta in the second round. "We can't stand Alan", they both said. Among other things, they blame him for terrorism getting out of hand in the late 80s.
Another friend of mine and her cousin are taking a different strategy. "Word is that Alan is likely to win", she told me. "If so, they say APRA party members will probably get good jobs. So we've joined the party and signed up to be election observers for the second round. Though of course we aren't apristas - we both voted Lourdes".
Author Mario Vargas Llosa - who really should decide whether he's going to be a public intellectual or a politician - announced his opinion that Unidad Nacional and APRA should form a "democratic alliance" to keep out the authoritarian Ollanta Humala. This would effectively mean handing Lourdes' votes to Alan.
Most commentators think this is a silly strategy that would likely backfire. On the one hand, it would strengthen Humala's battling outsider status. On the other, it does look rather like an attempt at majoritarian strategy to continue the exclusion of the marginalized 30 percent of the population whose vote for Ollanta was more than anything a cry of protest at the status quo. And most simply, it's not exactly in the best interests of democracy to tell people how to vote.
Meanwhile, international figures continue to stick their beaks into Peru's domestic politics. Bolivian president Evo Morales recently called current Peruvian leader Alejandro Toledo "a traitor" to Andean solidarity for his decision to sign a free trade agreement with the US (it still has to be ratified by Congress in both countries).
Toledo responded that Morales' compadre Hugo Chavez himself had betrayed his avowed "Bolivarian" ideals of Andean integration by retiring Venezuela from the Comunidad Andina (CAN) alliance, a move which looks to be matched by Morales and Bolivia.
Yesterday in a press conference Chavez himself had his say. He blamed Colombia and Peru for the erosion of CAN because they had signed free trade agreements with the US. To continue in CAN would allow "susbsidised American goods" into Venezuela through the back door. "Unless", said Chavez, "the next president of Peru - and let's hope that's Ollanta Humala - throws out the free trade agreement".
Chavez had a parting shot for Lourdes Flores. "The candidate who made the free trade agreement a platform of her campaign is now on the sidelines", he said. "Well, Doña Lourdes - five more years".
It remains to be seen what effect this sniping from foreign leaders will have on the Peruvian campaign. Perhaps it will give Ollanta Humala a boost. Or maybe Peruvians will actually summon some of their famed patriotism and decide that no one foreign - be they American or Venezuelan - will tell them how to vote.
Categories: South America, Peru, Peruvian Elections, Lourdes Flores, Ollanta Humala, Alan Garcia, Hugo Chavez
The two remaining candidates have already made proxy starts to their second-round campaigns, each making visits to the other's stronghold. Alan visited Puno, a region which voted heavily for Humala, while Ollanta appeared in Trujillo, the traditional base of support for Alan Garcia's party APRA.
At present, almost nobody is willing to predict the outcome of the second round, largely because, of the 45 percent of Peruvians who didn't vote for either Alan or Ollanta, many would be loathe to support wither candidate.
For all that Humala is feared for his authoritarian tendencies, there are a lot of people who could never bring themselves to back Alan after his disastrous first presidency. My friends Hugo and Lizbeth are an example. They both voted Lourdes in the first round, but, though they don't have much confidence in what an Humala presidency would mean for tourism, they will be voting for Ollanta in the second round. "We can't stand Alan", they both said. Among other things, they blame him for terrorism getting out of hand in the late 80s.
Another friend of mine and her cousin are taking a different strategy. "Word is that Alan is likely to win", she told me. "If so, they say APRA party members will probably get good jobs. So we've joined the party and signed up to be election observers for the second round. Though of course we aren't apristas - we both voted Lourdes".
Author Mario Vargas Llosa - who really should decide whether he's going to be a public intellectual or a politician - announced his opinion that Unidad Nacional and APRA should form a "democratic alliance" to keep out the authoritarian Ollanta Humala. This would effectively mean handing Lourdes' votes to Alan.
Most commentators think this is a silly strategy that would likely backfire. On the one hand, it would strengthen Humala's battling outsider status. On the other, it does look rather like an attempt at majoritarian strategy to continue the exclusion of the marginalized 30 percent of the population whose vote for Ollanta was more than anything a cry of protest at the status quo. And most simply, it's not exactly in the best interests of democracy to tell people how to vote.
Meanwhile, international figures continue to stick their beaks into Peru's domestic politics. Bolivian president Evo Morales recently called current Peruvian leader Alejandro Toledo "a traitor" to Andean solidarity for his decision to sign a free trade agreement with the US (it still has to be ratified by Congress in both countries).
Toledo responded that Morales' compadre Hugo Chavez himself had betrayed his avowed "Bolivarian" ideals of Andean integration by retiring Venezuela from the Comunidad Andina (CAN) alliance, a move which looks to be matched by Morales and Bolivia.
Yesterday in a press conference Chavez himself had his say. He blamed Colombia and Peru for the erosion of CAN because they had signed free trade agreements with the US. To continue in CAN would allow "susbsidised American goods" into Venezuela through the back door. "Unless", said Chavez, "the next president of Peru - and let's hope that's Ollanta Humala - throws out the free trade agreement".
Chavez had a parting shot for Lourdes Flores. "The candidate who made the free trade agreement a platform of her campaign is now on the sidelines", he said. "Well, Doña Lourdes - five more years".
It remains to be seen what effect this sniping from foreign leaders will have on the Peruvian campaign. Perhaps it will give Ollanta Humala a boost. Or maybe Peruvians will actually summon some of their famed patriotism and decide that no one foreign - be they American or Venezuelan - will tell them how to vote.
Categories: South America, Peru, Peruvian Elections, Lourdes Flores, Ollanta Humala, Alan Garcia, Hugo Chavez
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
Nothing Is Ever Quite the Same
April is close to the best time of the year in Arequipa. The skies are permanently sunny - the intermittent cloud and very occasional rain of January - March is gone - but the nights aren't yet as bitterly cold as in June and July. The heat of the day keeps the drifts of breeze warm until even a little after sundown, unlike some times of the year when it starts to get chilly by 3:00 or 4:00 in the afternoon.
Best of all, the mountains still have a decent amount of snow from the rainy season. On the volcano El Misti there's barely a streak or two, but 6,075-metre Chachani has an almost Alps-like covering, and even the smaller Picchu Picchu range to the east has a layer of snow.
I spent almost six months in Arequipa during my last trip to South America. I fell in love with the place shortly after arriving; in addition to its natural beauty it seemed to have a combination of dignity and joie de vivre which especially appealed to me.
About two hours after arriving from Lima on Friday morning, I felt like I'd never left. A short tour round the workplaces of friends and acquaintances, and I'd received more hugs and kisses than in the entire previous year. My friends Hugo and Lizbeth immediately demanded that I come and stay at their place, and on Saturday night organized a "welcome barbeque" with marinated pork steaks, papa a la huancaina and lashings of sangria and beer.
When I returned to New Zealand, my life here quickly started to seem like a dream. But having returned, the minor changes only serve to underline the familarities.
Some people have put on weight, others have died their hair. One or two have changed jobs. There's been a couple of pregnancies. Ulises, the owner of the Casa la Reyna hostel where I stayed when I first arrived here, was stripping the layers of plaster and paint off the stone facade of his hotel. "It's being naturalised", he said. "Without the plaster the stone can breathe, and it lasts better". My friend Blanca had modified the entrance to her popular internet cafe, put in a new counter, and painted it in bright colours.
Hugo and Lizbeth's house which they share with the families of Hugo's brothers and his mother, has been substantially modified, with new rooms occupying space that was an outside terrace, and an attractive back patio. Their adventure travel agencies have been slowly gaining more business in a static market, and they now also have t-shirts, stickers and sandwich boards featuring the flying-condors design which I used for the Incaventura web page I put together last year (me, a logo designer? Few things have left me more chuffed).
More notably, Hugo and Lizbeth's son Gerardo has undergone a remarkable change. He's still an anxious child, but after a couple of visits to a psychologist, a change of school, and getting his own room, he seems to have conquered the tendency for constant screaming and crying fits, can now speak more or less normally, and can play happily with other kids.
But only one thing is drastically different. As some who read this blog will know, much of my time in South America last year was spent in a long and involved relationship with a girl from Arequipa. It was at times fraught and turbulent but (for me at least) seldom boring
That all finished some time ago, but inevitably colours how I see the place now. Almost everything is infused with memories of the things we did together During the first couple of days here I was hit a couple of times by a wave of sad nostalgia, and a feeling that the way things have turned out changes not only the present, but also how I view the past.
On the other hand, I realised even at the time that I was living in a reality that was romantic, but a little one-dimensional. So distracted was I by the ups and downs of el amor a la arequipeña that a lot of the more interesting concrete features of the place passed me by. Already in my few days here, I've done things that I never managed to get around to when I was with Paola. In a way, I feel like I'm getting to know Arequipa all over again.
Sadly, my travel plans, which I set in stone before coming, mean I don't have much more time here.
Categories: Arequipa, South America, Peru
Best of all, the mountains still have a decent amount of snow from the rainy season. On the volcano El Misti there's barely a streak or two, but 6,075-metre Chachani has an almost Alps-like covering, and even the smaller Picchu Picchu range to the east has a layer of snow.
I spent almost six months in Arequipa during my last trip to South America. I fell in love with the place shortly after arriving; in addition to its natural beauty it seemed to have a combination of dignity and joie de vivre which especially appealed to me.
About two hours after arriving from Lima on Friday morning, I felt like I'd never left. A short tour round the workplaces of friends and acquaintances, and I'd received more hugs and kisses than in the entire previous year. My friends Hugo and Lizbeth immediately demanded that I come and stay at their place, and on Saturday night organized a "welcome barbeque" with marinated pork steaks, papa a la huancaina and lashings of sangria and beer.
When I returned to New Zealand, my life here quickly started to seem like a dream. But having returned, the minor changes only serve to underline the familarities.
Some people have put on weight, others have died their hair. One or two have changed jobs. There's been a couple of pregnancies. Ulises, the owner of the Casa la Reyna hostel where I stayed when I first arrived here, was stripping the layers of plaster and paint off the stone facade of his hotel. "It's being naturalised", he said. "Without the plaster the stone can breathe, and it lasts better". My friend Blanca had modified the entrance to her popular internet cafe, put in a new counter, and painted it in bright colours.
Hugo and Lizbeth's house which they share with the families of Hugo's brothers and his mother, has been substantially modified, with new rooms occupying space that was an outside terrace, and an attractive back patio. Their adventure travel agencies have been slowly gaining more business in a static market, and they now also have t-shirts, stickers and sandwich boards featuring the flying-condors design which I used for the Incaventura web page I put together last year (me, a logo designer? Few things have left me more chuffed).
More notably, Hugo and Lizbeth's son Gerardo has undergone a remarkable change. He's still an anxious child, but after a couple of visits to a psychologist, a change of school, and getting his own room, he seems to have conquered the tendency for constant screaming and crying fits, can now speak more or less normally, and can play happily with other kids.
But only one thing is drastically different. As some who read this blog will know, much of my time in South America last year was spent in a long and involved relationship with a girl from Arequipa. It was at times fraught and turbulent but (for me at least) seldom boring
That all finished some time ago, but inevitably colours how I see the place now. Almost everything is infused with memories of the things we did together During the first couple of days here I was hit a couple of times by a wave of sad nostalgia, and a feeling that the way things have turned out changes not only the present, but also how I view the past.
On the other hand, I realised even at the time that I was living in a reality that was romantic, but a little one-dimensional. So distracted was I by the ups and downs of el amor a la arequipeña that a lot of the more interesting concrete features of the place passed me by. Already in my few days here, I've done things that I never managed to get around to when I was with Paola. In a way, I feel like I'm getting to know Arequipa all over again.
Sadly, my travel plans, which I set in stone before coming, mean I don't have much more time here.
Categories: Arequipa, South America, Peru
Thursday, April 20, 2006
Learning to Love Lima
The sense of being in Peru rushed back as soon I got off the plane. With large queues waiting at immigration, the staff were backlogged because one of their machines was "malograda". As the crowds threatened to back up to the air bridge, the decision was made to open up a couple of extra counters.
"Señorita! Close off that gap between the lines so people don't come through there" one of the immigration officials shouted at a harried assistant. She started to rush off but then stopped. "It is closed" she said in frustration..
When I finally got my turn, the woman at immigration confirmed my flight number and started filling out my form. I noticed she had written "30" on my entry form. "You're only giving me 30 days?", I queried. "Why, how many do you need?", she asked. "Ah, maybe 35, to be on the safe side", I replied. "Hmm, ok, we'll go for 90", she said, proceeding to change the 3s to 9s.
So why didn't I get 90 in the first place? On all the other occasions I've come into Peru I've been given 90 automatically. Something to do with having come in from Chile? Note to Peru: generally you want to at least give gringo tourists the option of staying longer and spending more money.
Driving out of the airport though the port suburb of Callao, the air blowing through the taxi window carried a familiar thickness of humidity, tar, petrol, and fish. The driver steered in wide arcs around potholes, as the odd person wandered aimlessly into the poorly lit streets. I was definitely back in Peru.
In previous conversations with Peruvian friends in MSN Messenger, without exception they emitted cybernetic groans when the elections were mentioned. They had all voted for Lourdes Flores, and were despressed by the prospect of a choice between Alan Garcia and Ollanta Humala. Perhaps not surprising, given that my friends are all middle class, including a language teacher, a law student, a designer, and a number who work in or rely on touism.
However, it seems that in Lima the pro-Lourdes sentiments go beyond the upper crust. I asked my taxi driver Carlos, a native of working-class Callao, who he wanted to win in the elections. "The woman - Lourdes", he said. The young guy on the nightshift at my little family-run hostel in Miraflores? "Lourdes", he confirmed without hesitation.
In the morning I talked with Juan, the young guy who manages the hostel, about travel into the jungle. He had travelled quite extensively in the "ceja de selva", the area between the Andes and the jungle proper, and had gone downriver for one day, but not as far as Iquitos.
He dismissed the dangers of drug traffickers and terrorists. "Really, the provinces are tranquil", he said. To be honest, there's much more danger here in Lima than in out there" (almost certainly true).
"Forget about being robbed or whatever", added Juan. "What you really have to watch out for in the jungle regions is the women".
My plan for the day was to secure a ticket to Arequipa for the following night, and make a visit to the Mueso de la Nacion, which houses many of the archeological treasures of the pre-Incan and Incan eras.
On the way out to the bus station, my taxi driver was a jovial guy named Leo. "Watch out for las charapas (women from Iquitos and around)", he warned me when I told him of my travel plans.
I asked him how business was. "Hmm, some days good, some days bad", he shrugged. It's hard making money. We have the cheapest taxis in South America. And the most expensive gasoline in South America. Everything here is expensive", he grumbled.
Leo was my first encounter with a non-Lourdes voter. "Alan Garcia's the man", he said, giving the thumbs up. "Ollanta would be a disaster. Nationalisation? That's crazy. It'd scare away the foreign capital. You're a foreigner, you want to invest here; you're not going to do it without security, guarantees".
But didn't Alan already have his turn at being president, I asked cautiously. "Ah, he's changed. He's matured" said Leo confidently.
Later, on my way out to the Museo de la Nacion, I saw a piece of graffiti scrawled in big, awkward letters on an underpass. "Alan hasn't changed", it proclaimed.
The musuem had a fantastic collection of artefacts, particularly from the pre-Incan cultures. By then the jet lag was kicking in a little, so my stamina waned, and I'll probably go back on my next trip to Lima. I was already enamoured of the extraordinarily lifelike and expressive ceramics produced by the 7th-century Moche culture, which I had seen in Chiclayo. But what grabbed me most on the museum visit were the carved stone pillars and feline heads from the BC-era Chavin de Huantar de culture.
With a centre in the Huaraz area, this was the first "horizon culture" in Peru which unified people over a significant area through government and religion. Its stone artwork shows great skill and control, revealing a striking, almost demonic, iconography.
The musuem was a somewhat surprising place to meet my first Ollanta Humala voters. I got to talking to two women in the forties, Rosa and Cristina, who were also looking at the artefacts. Rosa lived in London, and had ended up teaching continuing education classes on Peruvian culture. She said she was "catching up"; she'd never taken that much of an interest in her country's cultural history until she found herself teaching it to foreigners.
Cristina said she lived in the poor shantytown area of Comas and was a trained physiotherapist. I asked if physiotherapy paid reasonably well. More or less, she said, but she also worked in preventative health, and that was definitely on a voluntary basis. I imagined that such work must be really necesary and valuable. "That's right", said Cristina. "That's why we're very much supporting Ollanta".
"Oh yes, she's in love with Ollanta", said Rosa. She even has a picture of him" she said, searching in her own purse. Unfortunately the picture of Ollanta was nowhere to be found.
Politely, I didn't press them on the question of what specific actions they thought Ollanta Humala would take to improve life for people in the pueblos jovenes.
From the bus station to the musuem and back to the hostel, I travelled in kombis, the mainly antiquated minibuses and vans which roar along the streets, stopping wherever there are passengers to pick up. They dominate Peruvian cities, and Lima in particular, to such an extent, that I feel if you're not confident travelling in them you'll never really get a feel for daily life in the city. You can't take taxis forever.
I didn't do that great on my way out to the musuem, and it took me three tries to get to the right stop. Lesson learned: if you want someone to point out your stop, you really need to remind them more than once. But on the way back to Miraflores (minimum two kombis), I got it right first time.
Miraflores and San Isidro might be what the women in the museum called the "snooty" parts of Lima, but they're still democratised by the endless stream of kombi vans belching smoke and bouncing frenetically along the worn streets, the young assistants leaning out the open doors and shouting out their destinations.
Lima is huge, incomprehensible, polluted and dangerous, and appalls even most people who live there. At the same time it's diverse, exciting, friendly, and especially in April while the sun is still shining, has an odd sense of hope. Once you settle into its rhythms a little, the dominant impression is of constant, frenetic movement. After it stops frightening you, it's an energizing place, and you may even feel that you're beginning to like it.
Categories: Lima, South America, Peru
"Señorita! Close off that gap between the lines so people don't come through there" one of the immigration officials shouted at a harried assistant. She started to rush off but then stopped. "It is closed" she said in frustration..
When I finally got my turn, the woman at immigration confirmed my flight number and started filling out my form. I noticed she had written "30" on my entry form. "You're only giving me 30 days?", I queried. "Why, how many do you need?", she asked. "Ah, maybe 35, to be on the safe side", I replied. "Hmm, ok, we'll go for 90", she said, proceeding to change the 3s to 9s.
So why didn't I get 90 in the first place? On all the other occasions I've come into Peru I've been given 90 automatically. Something to do with having come in from Chile? Note to Peru: generally you want to at least give gringo tourists the option of staying longer and spending more money.
Driving out of the airport though the port suburb of Callao, the air blowing through the taxi window carried a familiar thickness of humidity, tar, petrol, and fish. The driver steered in wide arcs around potholes, as the odd person wandered aimlessly into the poorly lit streets. I was definitely back in Peru.
In previous conversations with Peruvian friends in MSN Messenger, without exception they emitted cybernetic groans when the elections were mentioned. They had all voted for Lourdes Flores, and were despressed by the prospect of a choice between Alan Garcia and Ollanta Humala. Perhaps not surprising, given that my friends are all middle class, including a language teacher, a law student, a designer, and a number who work in or rely on touism.
However, it seems that in Lima the pro-Lourdes sentiments go beyond the upper crust. I asked my taxi driver Carlos, a native of working-class Callao, who he wanted to win in the elections. "The woman - Lourdes", he said. The young guy on the nightshift at my little family-run hostel in Miraflores? "Lourdes", he confirmed without hesitation.
In the morning I talked with Juan, the young guy who manages the hostel, about travel into the jungle. He had travelled quite extensively in the "ceja de selva", the area between the Andes and the jungle proper, and had gone downriver for one day, but not as far as Iquitos.
He dismissed the dangers of drug traffickers and terrorists. "Really, the provinces are tranquil", he said. To be honest, there's much more danger here in Lima than in out there" (almost certainly true).
"Forget about being robbed or whatever", added Juan. "What you really have to watch out for in the jungle regions is the women".
My plan for the day was to secure a ticket to Arequipa for the following night, and make a visit to the Mueso de la Nacion, which houses many of the archeological treasures of the pre-Incan and Incan eras.
On the way out to the bus station, my taxi driver was a jovial guy named Leo. "Watch out for las charapas (women from Iquitos and around)", he warned me when I told him of my travel plans.
I asked him how business was. "Hmm, some days good, some days bad", he shrugged. It's hard making money. We have the cheapest taxis in South America. And the most expensive gasoline in South America. Everything here is expensive", he grumbled.
Leo was my first encounter with a non-Lourdes voter. "Alan Garcia's the man", he said, giving the thumbs up. "Ollanta would be a disaster. Nationalisation? That's crazy. It'd scare away the foreign capital. You're a foreigner, you want to invest here; you're not going to do it without security, guarantees".
But didn't Alan already have his turn at being president, I asked cautiously. "Ah, he's changed. He's matured" said Leo confidently.
Later, on my way out to the Museo de la Nacion, I saw a piece of graffiti scrawled in big, awkward letters on an underpass. "Alan hasn't changed", it proclaimed.
The musuem had a fantastic collection of artefacts, particularly from the pre-Incan cultures. By then the jet lag was kicking in a little, so my stamina waned, and I'll probably go back on my next trip to Lima. I was already enamoured of the extraordinarily lifelike and expressive ceramics produced by the 7th-century Moche culture, which I had seen in Chiclayo. But what grabbed me most on the museum visit were the carved stone pillars and feline heads from the BC-era Chavin de Huantar de culture.
With a centre in the Huaraz area, this was the first "horizon culture" in Peru which unified people over a significant area through government and religion. Its stone artwork shows great skill and control, revealing a striking, almost demonic, iconography.
The musuem was a somewhat surprising place to meet my first Ollanta Humala voters. I got to talking to two women in the forties, Rosa and Cristina, who were also looking at the artefacts. Rosa lived in London, and had ended up teaching continuing education classes on Peruvian culture. She said she was "catching up"; she'd never taken that much of an interest in her country's cultural history until she found herself teaching it to foreigners.
Cristina said she lived in the poor shantytown area of Comas and was a trained physiotherapist. I asked if physiotherapy paid reasonably well. More or less, she said, but she also worked in preventative health, and that was definitely on a voluntary basis. I imagined that such work must be really necesary and valuable. "That's right", said Cristina. "That's why we're very much supporting Ollanta".
"Oh yes, she's in love with Ollanta", said Rosa. She even has a picture of him" she said, searching in her own purse. Unfortunately the picture of Ollanta was nowhere to be found.
Politely, I didn't press them on the question of what specific actions they thought Ollanta Humala would take to improve life for people in the pueblos jovenes.
From the bus station to the musuem and back to the hostel, I travelled in kombis, the mainly antiquated minibuses and vans which roar along the streets, stopping wherever there are passengers to pick up. They dominate Peruvian cities, and Lima in particular, to such an extent, that I feel if you're not confident travelling in them you'll never really get a feel for daily life in the city. You can't take taxis forever.
I didn't do that great on my way out to the musuem, and it took me three tries to get to the right stop. Lesson learned: if you want someone to point out your stop, you really need to remind them more than once. But on the way back to Miraflores (minimum two kombis), I got it right first time.
Miraflores and San Isidro might be what the women in the museum called the "snooty" parts of Lima, but they're still democratised by the endless stream of kombi vans belching smoke and bouncing frenetically along the worn streets, the young assistants leaning out the open doors and shouting out their destinations.
Lima is huge, incomprehensible, polluted and dangerous, and appalls even most people who live there. At the same time it's diverse, exciting, friendly, and especially in April while the sun is still shining, has an odd sense of hope. Once you settle into its rhythms a little, the dominant impression is of constant, frenetic movement. After it stops frightening you, it's an energizing place, and you may even feel that you're beginning to like it.
Categories: Lima, South America, Peru
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Layover in Santiago
If this trip is intended to be arduous and challenging, I guess I'm easing my way in. Right now, I'm ensconced in Lan Chile's VIP lounge in Santiago, during a 7-hour layover before my flight to Lima.
As everyone was moving into the transit lounge, someone from Lan was handing out fliers saying they've "extended their VIP access" to all their passengers, andfor only US $18, we too could enjoy the comfy surroundings, showers and free internet.
After having a wander round the transit area and figuring that I would probably spend close to that much on food and internet anyway, I decided to go for it. After just taking a hot shower and getting myself cleaned up, I've confirmed that it was a very good idea.
Didn't get much sleep the night before leaving, and then the trip to Auckland, check in etc took up the rest of the day. The flight to Santiago was, once again, sleepless, due to the overheated cabin (what is it with Chilean travel companies and wacking up the heating?), a bit of turbulence just when I was dropping off, and I think the fact that that the Airbus jets which seem popuar with all and sundry now, have significantly less space than the Boeings ("cattle class" seems appropriate).
Some of the sheer magic of travel seems to have gone for me now. I used to get a tremendous buzz just getting on any plane that was leaving the country, but up till now it's all seemed pretty routine. However, some of that may be due to the fact that I'm not yet on the way to my final destination.
On the way over, sat next to an Argentinian girl who had been coaching the junior Argentinian women's aerobic gymnastics team at world championships in Japan. She was a full-time phys ed teacher as well, and was heading back to start work again tomorrow morning, massive jet lag and all.
I thankfully will be spared any commitments to early morning activity for the present. I will try and make the most of my time in Lima by going to see the gold museum, so will be pushing though a bit until I manage to grab a night bus to Arequipa (hopefully Thursday). Then, dios mio, am I going to sleep. Perhaps a nice quiet double room at the Casa la Reyna hostel, putting off Hugo and Lizbeth's invitation to come and stay at their place for a couple of days...
I'm hoping that my posts will gradually get more interesting from here.
As everyone was moving into the transit lounge, someone from Lan was handing out fliers saying they've "extended their VIP access" to all their passengers, andfor only US $18, we too could enjoy the comfy surroundings, showers and free internet.
After having a wander round the transit area and figuring that I would probably spend close to that much on food and internet anyway, I decided to go for it. After just taking a hot shower and getting myself cleaned up, I've confirmed that it was a very good idea.
Didn't get much sleep the night before leaving, and then the trip to Auckland, check in etc took up the rest of the day. The flight to Santiago was, once again, sleepless, due to the overheated cabin (what is it with Chilean travel companies and wacking up the heating?), a bit of turbulence just when I was dropping off, and I think the fact that that the Airbus jets which seem popuar with all and sundry now, have significantly less space than the Boeings ("cattle class" seems appropriate).
Some of the sheer magic of travel seems to have gone for me now. I used to get a tremendous buzz just getting on any plane that was leaving the country, but up till now it's all seemed pretty routine. However, some of that may be due to the fact that I'm not yet on the way to my final destination.
On the way over, sat next to an Argentinian girl who had been coaching the junior Argentinian women's aerobic gymnastics team at world championships in Japan. She was a full-time phys ed teacher as well, and was heading back to start work again tomorrow morning, massive jet lag and all.
I thankfully will be spared any commitments to early morning activity for the present. I will try and make the most of my time in Lima by going to see the gold museum, so will be pushing though a bit until I manage to grab a night bus to Arequipa (hopefully Thursday). Then, dios mio, am I going to sleep. Perhaps a nice quiet double room at the Casa la Reyna hostel, putting off Hugo and Lizbeth's invitation to come and stay at their place for a couple of days...
I'm hoping that my posts will gradually get more interesting from here.
Monday, April 17, 2006
Peru Elections
The Peruvian elections went off without too much of a hitch last Sunday 9 April. As counting began, the early trends confirmed what the most recent polls had shown. While Ollanta Humala was looking to get a clear 30-31 percent of the vote and go through the run-off, things were super tight between Lourdes Flores and Alan Garcia.
Exit polls showed both would get about 24-25 percent, with the margin between them less than the margin of error. Lourdes led early, as the votes from the cities came in first. Then, after about 50 percent was counted, Alan surged into second place. He moved to 1.0-1.2 percent and stayed there. Then, when about 80 percent of the vote had been counted and the tension was rising....everyone went on holiday.
Yep, it's one of those things you've got to love about Peru. The most important political event for five years, but not a patch on the Easter church services and all day bbqs. Only on Good Friday itself did the vote count not progress at all, on the official site of the electoral commission, ONPE. But over the whole of the weekend, the total vote count has managed to rise from 84% to 89%.
To be fair, many of the later votes will be coming in from remote rural areas, and from overseas.
As the count slowly climbs, Lourdes has begun to make up some ground, and is now less than 1 percent behind Alan. A lot depends on the impact of the overseas votes, where she has about 60 percent support (as opposed to 24 percent overall). There's an estimated total of 185,000 of overseas votes to come in, but over half of these have now been counted. On my back of the envelope calculations, it won't be enough for Lourdes Flores to overtake Alan.
Interestingly, 137 Peruvians in New Zealand voted (for Peruvians, voting is compulsory). There were 112 in Auckland and 25 in Wellington. Overall, Lourdes Flores received 76 percent of the valid votes. However, in Wellington 17 out of 20 valid votes (85 percent) were cast for Lourdes, and no one at all supported rabble-rouser Humala. Who said Aucklanders were more right wing?
After bitching and sniping at each other in recent times, it now looks like Lourdes and Alan may be building bridges, in order to try and shut out Humala in the second round. El Comercio reported that their two parties are tentatively looking at some kind of front which sets "democracy against authoritarianism".
I'll try and squeeze in an opinion piece on all this amidst my snappy, regular (let's hope) updates on my travels.
Exit polls showed both would get about 24-25 percent, with the margin between them less than the margin of error. Lourdes led early, as the votes from the cities came in first. Then, after about 50 percent was counted, Alan surged into second place. He moved to 1.0-1.2 percent and stayed there. Then, when about 80 percent of the vote had been counted and the tension was rising....everyone went on holiday.
Yep, it's one of those things you've got to love about Peru. The most important political event for five years, but not a patch on the Easter church services and all day bbqs. Only on Good Friday itself did the vote count not progress at all, on the official site of the electoral commission, ONPE. But over the whole of the weekend, the total vote count has managed to rise from 84% to 89%.
To be fair, many of the later votes will be coming in from remote rural areas, and from overseas.
As the count slowly climbs, Lourdes has begun to make up some ground, and is now less than 1 percent behind Alan. A lot depends on the impact of the overseas votes, where she has about 60 percent support (as opposed to 24 percent overall). There's an estimated total of 185,000 of overseas votes to come in, but over half of these have now been counted. On my back of the envelope calculations, it won't be enough for Lourdes Flores to overtake Alan.
Interestingly, 137 Peruvians in New Zealand voted (for Peruvians, voting is compulsory). There were 112 in Auckland and 25 in Wellington. Overall, Lourdes Flores received 76 percent of the valid votes. However, in Wellington 17 out of 20 valid votes (85 percent) were cast for Lourdes, and no one at all supported rabble-rouser Humala. Who said Aucklanders were more right wing?
After bitching and sniping at each other in recent times, it now looks like Lourdes and Alan may be building bridges, in order to try and shut out Humala in the second round. El Comercio reported that their two parties are tentatively looking at some kind of front which sets "democracy against authoritarianism".
I'll try and squeeze in an opinion piece on all this amidst my snappy, regular (let's hope) updates on my travels.
Sunday, April 16, 2006
The Daily Minion
Unfortunately, over the last three weeks I haven't had a chance to add to or update the Daily Minion. I'll be in South America for the next six weeks, and it's unlikely that I'll be able to add anything during this time either.
But there's plenty more material in the pipeline, and when I get back I will make a big effort to get it finished and on the site. So for those of you who have visted the site and found any level of interest and amusement, don't worry - it will be carrying on after a brief interlude.
But there's plenty more material in the pipeline, and when I get back I will make a big effort to get it finished and on the site. So for those of you who have visted the site and found any level of interest and amusement, don't worry - it will be carrying on after a brief interlude.
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Corporate Reform 101
My recommendations for increasing productivity and output quality in the public and private sector:
1. Fewer meetings
2. More time spent doing actual substantive work
3. More time spent discussing and debating one-on-one with workmates, people in other parts of the organization, external clients, and people in the same or related fields.
4. More time (at least 10 percent) spent reading, understanding, critiquing, and learning from your team mates' work.
5. NEVER skipping scheduled exercise or other enjoyable, sanity-enhancing activities for routine or internal meetings.
6. Fewer meetings
7. Fewer meetings.
8. Fewer meetings.
In about five years, some Chicago business theorist will discover these simple rules and publicise them in a mega-selling book, which will be acclaimed throughout the developed world.
1. Fewer meetings
2. More time spent doing actual substantive work
3. More time spent discussing and debating one-on-one with workmates, people in other parts of the organization, external clients, and people in the same or related fields.
4. More time (at least 10 percent) spent reading, understanding, critiquing, and learning from your team mates' work.
5. NEVER skipping scheduled exercise or other enjoyable, sanity-enhancing activities for routine or internal meetings.
6. Fewer meetings
7. Fewer meetings.
8. Fewer meetings.
In about five years, some Chicago business theorist will discover these simple rules and publicise them in a mega-selling book, which will be acclaimed throughout the developed world.
Thursday, April 06, 2006
Peruvian Politics 102
The previous post introduced the three main candidates for the presidency of Peru and described something of the political dynamic between them. In the last couple of days before the polls, extra edge has been added to the campaign, with Ollanta Humala saying that if Lourdes Flores wins the election "she won't last a year in power".
To the protests that he was inciting a revolt, Humala added the clarification that "the people" would rise up because of the continuation of failed neoliberal policies under Flores. But he has been roundly condemned for these statements by the media and other politicians, including fellow presidential rival Alan Garcia, who said Humala "needs to learn some democratic manners".
To round out the picture of the Peruvian election, it's necessary to mention a couple of the minor candidates.
Valentin Paniagua
Interim president from 2000-2001 folowing the resignation of Fujimori. Peruvian writer Herbert Morote, in his acerbic lament Requiem por Peru, mi Patria, says while imagining the damning assessment awaiting each corrupt and incompetent Peruvian president when they reach heaven's gate:
"We'll pass over Valentin Paniagua, who had little to do in barely a year that he governed following Fujimori. Panigua was a transitional president and apart from calling elections didn't do anything else. I lie, he also named the Truth and Reconciliation Commission [on the Shining Path insurgency], whose work is the most important that has occurred in all Peru's republican history.
Praised be God! Thinking about it again, reflecting carefully, perhaps the best thing for Peru is to have presidents that only last a year and don't do anything"
Paniagua is a centrist candidate whose party is called Frente del Centro. In recent polls, he has maintained a steady 6-7 percent. This is irking the supporters of Lourdes Flores, who feel he is splitting the middle class vote. In the 2001 elections, he did a Ralph Nader and allowed Alan Garcia to pip Flores at the post for second place and a place in the run off. In 2006, as Alan's poll numbers make a late surge, the same may happen.
Martha Chavez
If the description of Peru's election so far seems like a soap opera of recurring characters seeking revenge or redemption, the one name missing is that which dominated the 1990s - Alberto Fujimori.
Martha Chavez is effectively Fujimori's candidate. Her party is called Alianza por el Futuroo, but she is also affiliated with Fujimori's Si Cumple party. Her running mate is Santiago Fujimori, Alberto Fujumori's brother.
Fujimori himself tried to register as a candidate for the presidential elections, but the constitutional court ruled that this was not permissible, as there is a congressional ban on him holding office for ten years.
In November 2005, Fujimori, who has been in self-imposed exile in Japan, flew to Santiago in Chile, via Mexico. There, he was detailed by the Chilean police on request from the Peruvian government, and extradition proceedings have begun against him to face accusations of corruption and human rights abuses. These are no tlikely to be resolved for a good six months.
Meanwhile. Martha Chavez is maintaing 7 percent support in the polls, while her Alianza por el Futuro party has risen to 16 percent in the congressional election polls.
Since then however, it has all been downhill.
There have been scandals relating to the discovery of an illegitimate daughter whom Toledo refused to acknowledge; allegations that Toledo's party Peru Posible forged membership signatures before the 2000 elections (there's a rather odd law that political parties have to have a certain number of members to be allowed to field candidates); the appointment of a highly unpopular politican as foreign minister; criticisms of the presidential salary.
When I was in Peru it was de rigeur for everyone from politicians and the media, to striking street marchers, to the opportunist "rebels" in Andahuaylas, to demand the resignation of Toledo. His approval rating dropped at one stage to 7 percent, the lowest for an incumbent Peruvian president.
Yet to the outsider, none of the criticisms of Toledo seemed that damning. His sins seemed to have a touch of the Clintonesque - in the context of the country's history hardly the worst indicment.
Rather than especially bad or even incompetent, Toledo's main failings seem to be that he is weak, naiive, and out of touch. In his book, Herbert Morote tells an anecdote of seeing Toledo attend a conference in Madrid with international business leader; rather than promote the potential of investment in Peru, Toledo recounted his life as a child and how his suffering gave him solidarity with the poor. Says Morote, "it was like he was making an election speech in the town square".
Toledo's time in power is rather summed up by his reaction to the discovery of a fifth leak (within fourteen months) in the flagship gas pipeline from the Camisea field in Cuzco to Lima. Toledo said that if the international consortium which constructed the pipeline could be shown to be responsible for the failures, "they'll have to pay" -- conveniently overlooking the point that the time to play hardball on quality control with the consortium would have been while the pipeline was being built.
Nevertheless the dissatisfaction with Toledo probably has less to do with the man himself than with Peruvians' impatience with their lot in life. Overall, things haven't been that bad in the last five years, which have seen the return of democracy, a free and vibrant press, macroeconomic stability, and average economic growth of 4.7 percent per annum - close to the best in Latin America.
Unfortunately, this hasn't flowed through to provide much benefit to the population. Unemployment, high prices for basic goods such as petrol, rampant crime, poor infrastructure - these remain the realities for most.
Better can surely be achieved, though no politician will be able to deliver more than slow and incremental improvements - Peru's problems go muc deeper than quality of its leaders. Yet the flip side of the hero to zero complex suffered by Peruvian politicans is that the population still expects and demands transformative change.
In order to be successful, the new Peruvian president needs to not only convince the people that this is unrealistic, but that they themselves are a crucial part of any set of solutions. In about 24 hours, we'll have the first idea of who is likely to have that task.
Categories: South America, Peru, Peruvian Elections, elecciones peruanas, Lourdes Flores, Ollanta Humala, Alan Garcia
To the protests that he was inciting a revolt, Humala added the clarification that "the people" would rise up because of the continuation of failed neoliberal policies under Flores. But he has been roundly condemned for these statements by the media and other politicians, including fellow presidential rival Alan Garcia, who said Humala "needs to learn some democratic manners".
To round out the picture of the Peruvian election, it's necessary to mention a couple of the minor candidates.
Valentin Paniagua
Interim president from 2000-2001 folowing the resignation of Fujimori. Peruvian writer Herbert Morote, in his acerbic lament Requiem por Peru, mi Patria, says while imagining the damning assessment awaiting each corrupt and incompetent Peruvian president when they reach heaven's gate:
"We'll pass over Valentin Paniagua, who had little to do in barely a year that he governed following Fujimori. Panigua was a transitional president and apart from calling elections didn't do anything else. I lie, he also named the Truth and Reconciliation Commission [on the Shining Path insurgency], whose work is the most important that has occurred in all Peru's republican history.
Praised be God! Thinking about it again, reflecting carefully, perhaps the best thing for Peru is to have presidents that only last a year and don't do anything"
Paniagua is a centrist candidate whose party is called Frente del Centro. In recent polls, he has maintained a steady 6-7 percent. This is irking the supporters of Lourdes Flores, who feel he is splitting the middle class vote. In the 2001 elections, he did a Ralph Nader and allowed Alan Garcia to pip Flores at the post for second place and a place in the run off. In 2006, as Alan's poll numbers make a late surge, the same may happen.
Martha Chavez
If the description of Peru's election so far seems like a soap opera of recurring characters seeking revenge or redemption, the one name missing is that which dominated the 1990s - Alberto Fujimori.
Martha Chavez is effectively Fujimori's candidate. Her party is called Alianza por el Futuroo, but she is also affiliated with Fujimori's Si Cumple party. Her running mate is Santiago Fujimori, Alberto Fujumori's brother.
Fujimori himself tried to register as a candidate for the presidential elections, but the constitutional court ruled that this was not permissible, as there is a congressional ban on him holding office for ten years.
In November 2005, Fujimori, who has been in self-imposed exile in Japan, flew to Santiago in Chile, via Mexico. There, he was detailed by the Chilean police on request from the Peruvian government, and extradition proceedings have begun against him to face accusations of corruption and human rights abuses. These are no tlikely to be resolved for a good six months.
Meanwhile. Martha Chavez is maintaing 7 percent support in the polls, while her Alianza por el Futuro party has risen to 16 percent in the congressional election polls.
None of this entirely makes sense without the context provided by the incumbent president:
Alejandro Toledo
Toledo provides another version of the familiar Peruvian story of a leader arriving with great expectations but proving to be a big disappointment
Toledo's story is a rags-to-riches fairytale of an indigenous kid from an impoverished family in Chimbote who worked as a shoeshine boy before winning a scholarship to school in the United States and eventually to Stamford University. He got a PhD in economics and later worked for a range of international organizations, including the United Nations, World Bank, and OECD.
In the 2000 and 2001 elections, Toledo led the democratic opposition to the corrupt and authoritarian Fujimori regime. After eventually winning the 2001 election run off against Alan Garcia, he had a 59 percent approval rating; not only did he seem to have the technocratic credentials to run the country, he was also an indigenous "cholo" who had broken into the white-dominated world of Lima politics.Since then however, it has all been downhill.
There have been scandals relating to the discovery of an illegitimate daughter whom Toledo refused to acknowledge; allegations that Toledo's party Peru Posible forged membership signatures before the 2000 elections (there's a rather odd law that political parties have to have a certain number of members to be allowed to field candidates); the appointment of a highly unpopular politican as foreign minister; criticisms of the presidential salary.
When I was in Peru it was de rigeur for everyone from politicians and the media, to striking street marchers, to the opportunist "rebels" in Andahuaylas, to demand the resignation of Toledo. His approval rating dropped at one stage to 7 percent, the lowest for an incumbent Peruvian president.
Yet to the outsider, none of the criticisms of Toledo seemed that damning. His sins seemed to have a touch of the Clintonesque - in the context of the country's history hardly the worst indicment.
Rather than especially bad or even incompetent, Toledo's main failings seem to be that he is weak, naiive, and out of touch. In his book, Herbert Morote tells an anecdote of seeing Toledo attend a conference in Madrid with international business leader; rather than promote the potential of investment in Peru, Toledo recounted his life as a child and how his suffering gave him solidarity with the poor. Says Morote, "it was like he was making an election speech in the town square".
Toledo's time in power is rather summed up by his reaction to the discovery of a fifth leak (within fourteen months) in the flagship gas pipeline from the Camisea field in Cuzco to Lima. Toledo said that if the international consortium which constructed the pipeline could be shown to be responsible for the failures, "they'll have to pay" -- conveniently overlooking the point that the time to play hardball on quality control with the consortium would have been while the pipeline was being built.
Nevertheless the dissatisfaction with Toledo probably has less to do with the man himself than with Peruvians' impatience with their lot in life. Overall, things haven't been that bad in the last five years, which have seen the return of democracy, a free and vibrant press, macroeconomic stability, and average economic growth of 4.7 percent per annum - close to the best in Latin America.
Unfortunately, this hasn't flowed through to provide much benefit to the population. Unemployment, high prices for basic goods such as petrol, rampant crime, poor infrastructure - these remain the realities for most.
Better can surely be achieved, though no politician will be able to deliver more than slow and incremental improvements - Peru's problems go muc deeper than quality of its leaders. Yet the flip side of the hero to zero complex suffered by Peruvian politicans is that the population still expects and demands transformative change.
In order to be successful, the new Peruvian president needs to not only convince the people that this is unrealistic, but that they themselves are a crucial part of any set of solutions. In about 24 hours, we'll have the first idea of who is likely to have that task.
Categories: South America, Peru, Peruvian Elections, elecciones peruanas, Lourdes Flores, Ollanta Humala, Alan Garcia
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