In Ayacucho, Money Talks, When You Least Expect It - Ayacucho, Peru

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Ayacucho, Peru

Ayacucho is a shining example of a colonial Peruvian town. Together with Cuzco and Arequipa, they form the Triumvirate of Colonial Peruvian Architecture Showcase - the Big Three. Its other tourist attractions aside from its 33 colonial churches (although I counted that there are only 11 head-turning ones) are a decisive battlefield in the quest for Peruvian independence, and a thriving arts and crafts community.

I was moved to visit this idyllic place. First the, peace and order situation is confidently assured by travel guidebooks. Although the bus I rode, Cruz del Sol, is a bit annoying, aside from the most expensive.

I learned of this bus from my hostel desk clerk in Lima who bought my ticket over the phone and delivered to me next day. Very appreciating indeed, for I was desperate to get one. The information people at the government tourist office in Plaza de Armas in Lima gave me wrong information, referring me to a bus company that does not serve this destination.

Anyway, this bus' security system, homeland security compliant, was the most intrusive, more annoying than anywhere else. They asked for my passport number, address, phone, and age, I wonder why they didn't ask for my favorite color or favorite movie. Then each passenger is videotaped twice for photo profile - on the boarding desk, and while seated on the bus.

La Merced

It was an overnight trip, we left 9:00 p.m. and arrived 6:30 a.m. and I was dreaming that I was sitting in the toilet. I woke up to find out my bottom was wet. I'm having a bout of diarrhea and I need to go to the toilet as fast.

The first hotel I came across was Yanez Hotel, probably the best in town, outside of the town plaza. It has Las Vegas style slot machine parlor downstairs. I swiftly checked-in, relieved myself, and slept soundly until noon.

Coming out of my burrow, I immediately searched for the town plaza, where they were having a town parade of sorts. On a Sunday noon, high school kids displayed their marching band and formation skills. These proud kids will put to shame Hitler's Youth Squad. They lifted their legs and hands in unison, as high as possibly can be. The degree of difficulty of their fancy marching (it comes in kneeling and 90-degree turnarounds) was simply marvelous.

It was also my first time to see those native grandmas with their signature bowler hats, Pocahontas hair parted in two, girly short umbrella skirts, and tall socks. They look so filthy and garish. I gathered that the Spaniards forced this style on them to distinguish their ethnicity.

I went directly to the tourist information office. Fortunately, it's open, compared to the always-close office in Lima's Plaza de Armas. I was so impressed. The nook is fancifully furnished reminiscent of a cell phone company sales office, replete with glasses and advertising paraphernalia displaying that big "I" symbol. The information officers were English language compliant, although, not sufficiently adequate, and they wore shirt and tie. What more can I ask?

Ayacuchian churches look uniformly the same. Most façades shows the same architectural arrangement - a portada flanked by two not-so-towering belfry towers on each side. They project an optical illusion of being petite and diminutive but somehow, once inside, the interiors project height and are airy. The intricate retablos washed in gold are awe-inspiring.

But they face the same pressing problems anywhere in Peru, except in Lima - as always and frequently so - shut and sealed. I gathered that there is a shortage of priests to officiate mass, which is the only reason to open it. At other times, they are closed, depending on the availability of the priest and so there's no use relying on the schedule of church openings issued by the tourist information agency.

So many churches, so little time, if only I has more leisure time.

The bigwig churches open and close more or less at the same time in the early morning and I have to rush and do it fast to get to the next church before it closes. I have only three days in this town to spare. But one church, the San Francisco de Asis, stayed open longer.

Santo Domingo

There were generous experiences with the people of Ayacucho, possibly the friendliest in Peru. In my encounter with four church caretakers and officials, I have no problem requesting for access without strings attached - Santo Domingo, La Merced, San Francisco de Paula, La Magdalena.

Two churches posed problem - Santa Teresa and the cathedral.

In Monastery Santa Teresa, I was faced with the difficulty of the warning greeting me at the entrance. The entrance has two sets of doors, the outer, and the inner. The outer was open while the inner is shut. Above it is a posted sign - No photography, No videotaping in explicit English directed personally to me. What a bummer!

It seemed like this church has a mixed feeling of whether it will accept visitors or finally call it a day.

A maintenance guy noticed my predicament. If he can only prop me up to peep through the glass transom above the door, I then asked his help. He said not to worry. He went to the office counter, knocked at the lazy susan, a high revolving window with plywood panels. There is no way to see the person behind this opaque contraption. He asked for Mamasita, the nun behind. This is how the reclusive nuns conduct business, no face-to-face encounter. It's worse than Afghanistan!

He asked if they can open the church, and the nun replied negatively. He requested if there are pictures of the inside for me to purchase as souvenirs, she rotated the tray and out came three. I was not impressed. He asked if they have books, out came prayer books. What I mean is architectural and history brochures, she has none to offer.

Business over, he conducted me to the side entrance. He knocked and a caretaker opened the church, he muttered excuses. The caretaker left us in peace; I was led into one of the most sumptuous interiors. It is no doubt impressive.

My heart was throbbing out of bounds.

He signaled to me. I scuttled and hid for cover. When I turned around, another caretaker, this time stricter, came closely behind me as I fix my knapsack. His eyes were on my bag. We then were led out of the door. I was ecstatic and trembling. I am so grateful for this man for his fast-break hospitality.

The cathedral was too much heartbreaking. It was the most photogenic interior in the whole Peru, I attest. Ornate gold retablos filled every wall. Actually, the walls, pillars, ceilings, and floors are bare masonry and brick. And they don't distract away from the center of attraction - the elegantly gilded retablos. For me, the cathedral is like a beautiful bird of prey, but sleek and hard to trap.

Upon entering the church, on my first visit, camera dangling on my neck, the Ssacristan easily picked me out, warning me of no pictures. Others were taking pictures, but he singled me out.

I guess my camera catches a lot of attention. She is my most reliable companion and she proves a good workhorse. But Nicole is a high profile, high maintenance, plus sized model, unlike my other camera, cute Sonia who's now in semi retirement. Nicole delivers because I can change to wide-angle lens, necessary for myopic distances and cramp interior scenes while compact Sonia works best for quick, less attention getting situations.

The sacristans, actually two of them, were very tough. I sought for the priest and complained. I said there are others allowed scathe free to take a shot. I cited this group of fair-skinned blond North American ladies taking photos who were not apprehended. The bearded priest was equally arrogant, possibly the rudest priest I ever encountered. He ignored me while I was pleading my case, preferring to continue his business of greeting, hugging, and kissing young seminarians forming a beeline paying a visit.

I wasn't discouraged. I poured it out to the hotel desk clerk Clara. She is probably the most helpful Quechuan or Peruvian I ever met, not expecting anything. She said the hotel I was staying is owned by the most influential family in Ayacucho. They ring a bell to the church authorities. She promised to help me the next day.

The Cathedral Exterior

At dusk, we first headed to the police headquarters and the police replied it's not in their discretion. When we arrived at the Cathedral, we were assisted by a lay woman-officer and she gave me a nod. Just a simple utterance, the sacristan became tamed and obliged. We have to wait for the mass to finish and it was already pitch dark. The only way to take picture is to allow the lights or with a powerful flash.

After the mass, I immediately sprung into action. But that was not it. He started to harass me again. He said I must talk to the priest. I said I have no time, my onward ticket says, I must leave at 8:00 p.m.

This priest, different from the first I encountered, admonished me and so I proceeded. Somehow, he became disturbed because of those frequent flashes. He called my attention and changed his mind. He was worried about the security but I told him, the police gave me a go-signal. I was furious and I told him that I came to Peru because the Peruvian government is promoting these churches and I didn't spend a fortune just to stare at it. I shouldn't have come to Peru if I am not welcome.

He again changed his mind, this time he said, I must donate to the church. In messy Spanish, I told him why did he didn't ask beforehand so that things will be smooth sailing. My shots were no better taken in pitch darkness, hurried and stressed. I could have easily given a hefty donation, and asked for a more tranquil and relaxed afternoon session.

I pulled out a S/.50.00 (nuevo soles) bill and made sure he sees it slipped through the donation box.

When I returned to the hotel, I thanked Clara for helping me. She invited me next year and told me the best time to come is during Semana Santa when all the churches are thrown open to visitors.

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