Chapter 3, Part 1: Primer Amor
[A recollection of events that transpired in] Lima, Peru
It was 9:00 o'clock in the morning when the boat boarding Robert, Cora, and their tour guide Rosario left the quay edging farther and deeper into Lake Titicaca. Behind them the peaks of the magnificent Andes mountain loomed like a sentinel.
The day was bright and save for a scattering of puffy clouds the sky was clear blue. The waters were likewise placid except for the ripples that the boat and the soft winds were making.
"This is going to be a great day touring the Lake" Rosario predicted.
The past week has been lucky for her. She worked as a tour guide for a travel and tour agency, Viaje y relajar, in Lima. She has been out of client for the last two weeks when her agency called to ask if she is willing to escort an English couple around the sites in Peru because Luis who was originally assigned as their tour guide was hospitalized. The English couple did not want to join any group tour but preferred to travel on their own with a tour guide.
Rosario's heart skipped with joy though she strongly empathized with el pobre Luis. Her eldest daughter Paula will start college in Lima soon and her savings is short for her three children's matriculation fees. She needed more work! That's how she got introduced to Senor and Senora Crawley.
For countless times, she has been herding large groups and guiding smaller ones to Lake Titicaca which is widely known as the cradle of the Incan civilization. This is one job she found quite easy to do. So, she sat back on her seat as their boat navigated through waters and reeds stealing occasional glances at the couple that she was accompanying seated across the aisle from her. Senor Robert was near the window less for the view and more for the reason that the sun beats harder on that side of the boat through the fiberglass windows. Senora Cora also sat back on her seat looking intently at the waters her eyes hidden by a pair of dark glasses but her expression was otherwise very relaxed, tranquilada.
"I was here in Peru in the early 80's", Rosario recalled senora Crawley's announcement as they had dinner on their first night together in Lima after a tiring but enjoyable tour across the city.
Roario and senor Robert looked up at the senora from their Osso buco.
"Really, senora?" intoned in restrained exclamation.
"Yes, I came here after my college graduation to see Machu Picchu which we discussed at length in my pre-Columbian art history class."
She continued, "Also, I watched with my mother," senora glanced tentatively at her husband as if he had not been privy of this particular sliver of her past until that night, "a concert by the great Yma Sumac at the Ballroom, in New York, when I was a teenager so I really wanted to see your country."
Rosario's heart swell with pride at the mention of Yma Sumac by senora Crawley. Rosario was also born in Ichocan, just like the great coloratura soprano.
"So you must have already seen the places, senora?"
"Not really, I mean not much. I was only here for four days and I only wanted to see the Machu Picchu," this remark was followed by a tinkling laugh which Rosario observed is one of senora's self-deprecating ways.
There was a pause in the conversation so the senora offered more explanation.
"I was driven by a desire to see the world after college. I went backpacking across Europe. It wasn't as hip a thing as it is now among young people…I went to Asia, and then Latin America."
Rosario was amazed to hear that the refined middle-age woman before her had an adventurer's streak. People really are surprising!
"So, darling, how did you find Peru then…or Lima, for that matter…from the present?" Senor Crawley interjected with a question, steering the conversation back to Peru.
With alternating glances at her husband and at Rosario, she replied, "Oh, as I've said I haven't really seen much I went straight to Cusco from Lima many moons ago. I flew right after to Brazil. But I can see the obvious growth here, it's teeming with so much life and hope, and you can see the cultures of the peoples in every sight, sound, smell, and movement in the city."
The consistent use of peoples and cultures by senora Crawley always had quite an impact on Rosario. There are not too many foreign tourists who would use those references that for her, a person who is proud of her Quechua heritage, talking about the peoples in Peru—as there are 51 indigenous peoples in her country—make her feel less invisible.
"I hope you enjoyed the sights in Brazil too, senora. Copacabana must be less crowded then than it is now," Rosario returned senora's smile.
Senora chuckled. "I only went to see parts of the amazon…"
"Cora prefers tranquil and quaint places more, don't you darling?" senor Crawley threw a sweet smile at his erudita esposa without a hint of sarcasmo in his voice, his left hand hovered lightly on her right hand resting on the edge of the table.
"Yes, I do rather. In fact, I wanted to stay longer, work as a volunteer in one of those environmental conservation groups that I met. But I got wire from my father urging me to go home. He wanted me to meet someone in New York."
She threw a subtle flirty smile at senor Crawley. Whatever that meeting was, Rosario suspected that senor Crawley was part of it.
"And that ended the noble desire to serve in the Amazons," senor Crawley returned teasingly.
Senora picked up her husband's mood, "Well, I did return to Brazil with senor Crawley, Rosario, years later and we went to Copacabana but we agreed that we prefer a quieter, less crowded place with less sun." The two chuckled together, two people revisando sus recuerdos, and Rosario smiled quietly to herself. She is familiar with the looks that the senor and the senora were exchanging and she need not name it.
And so, that night's conversation picked up smoothly between the three until it was time to say good night and prepare for their next sight-seeing the following day.
The couple is not difficult to tour with, Rosario observed since their first day in Lima. They must have done a thorough research before their trip because they came with a well-planned itinerary: Lima, Cuzco, Amazonas, Ancash Region, and Andes Region including Lake Titicaca. And of course, senora Crawley had been here. They are well-read people and this was immediately obvious when she took them to the Historic Centre of Lima.
The Crawleys, she observed, are a different type of tourists. You do not hear them exclaim "Wow!" or "Oh!" when you bring them to specific sites. It seemed that they do not tour just to be amazed or entertained. They sounded always interested—they listened very intently to her; they added their well-informed comments. Senora Crawley especially had the knack for asking intelligent questions about the sights and places.
Oftentimes, Rosario would catch them turn to each other to discuss the architecture, the painting, or the object to themselves. Most of the times senor Crawley would agree with the senora's observations and occasionally, when he sounded not quite convinced, he would ask "Why is that?" or "Why do you say that?" and his wife would expound in what Rosario now recognizes as her mellifluous voice.
Rosario could not help but smile at the remembrance of an eventful visit to the Museu de Arte de Lima with the couple which Senora Crawley very much wanted to see.
When they got inside, bunch of tourists were already filling in the MALI. Senor and senora Crawley went straight to the Liminal art installation of Maya Watanabe, a Peruvian artist known for art installations that captured the history and politics of the country. They have seen another of her obra when they were vacationing in Barcelona two years ago and senora got very interested.
They have seen some of the pinturas y esculturas and other objetos de arte when their interest was caught by a huddle of tourists discussing passionately about the artistic nature of a particular display: a wooden replica of the Andean cock-of-the-rock. The couple carefully approached the group to listen to the discussion, Rosario was trailing behind. Two male tourists were arguing over its aesthetic value—one was saying it lacks aesthetics while the other one, must be el frances based from his accent, insisted that it has.
Rosario was not very keen with el debate so she started to zoom out of the conversation and turn away from the group to look at the other paintings on display nearby while waiting for the couple to leave the group. However, out of the contrasting deadening silence of the museum and the passionate argument between the two males a familiar mellifluous voice stopped her on her tracks.
"Excuse me gentlemen, I've been listening to the discussion for a while and indeed my attention was directed to this wooden bird. I have to say, I agree with monsieur…"
Madame likewise noted the French accent.
"Guillaume, je m'apelle Guillaume, Madame!"
"Oui, merci, monsieur Guillaume. You see, it would be ridiculous to compare this wooden bird to a Rembrandt or a Van Gogh or even a statue by Rodin. But in the simplicity of the object lies its mysterious qualities."
Senora examined the object closer.
"First point, the bird is a figurative representation of..." turning to Rosario, "Como se llama, el pajaro, Rosario por favor?"
"Andean cock-of-the-rock!" the crowd replied in chorus before Rosario could open her mouth.
"Gracias. Yes, a representation of an Andean-cock-of-the-rock. Point two, it's the symbolism. The choice of a subject. Why the carver would have chosen to make a wooden bird from the Andean cock-of-the-rock with its wings outstretched as if in flight and have it displayed in a museum or as a decoration in private homes when birds are supposed to be flying free high up above trees and clouds and not inside the constrained interiors of buildings and houses has made this wooden carving symbolic. Can we interpret it as a symbol for a deep longing for freedom?"
Rosario could spot not one but many heads nodding in agreement.
"Third point, you can obviously see the carver's respect for the material. The bird was carved out of this wood paying attention to its texture, color, weight, and original shape. It is astounding that a piece of wood has been turned into a bird in mid-flight! Fourthly, you can see the formal unity and economy there. Look at the patterns, the indentions, the repetitions and interruptions in the imitation of the bird's feathers. Finally, when you look at this simple object, not comparable to Van Gogh's The Starry Night, we are still provoked into astonishment, a kind of aesthetic emotion. How on earth was this made?"
"While you are correct, Madame…are you not reducing aesthetics to art?" the man who argued about the lack of aesthetic value interrupted.
"Cora." Senora Crawley supplied her name softly without any hint of affectation. She did not sound mad for being interrogated in this manner.
"Well, we have not yet scratched the relationship between art and nature; between art and the world. We look at the setting sun, at a flower opening its petals right after dawn, we look at dark clouds gathering in the horizon, or a ruin in a desolate grassland, they speak of hope, apprehensions, and loneliness yet in these conditions we come to know beauty. No matter the context, beauty always stands out exceptionally. There is validity to the argument that the motivation behind our appreciation for natural beauty is quite functional. Flowers remind us of youth and fertility. However, art is not an imitation of nature, rather it copies or is copied from nature to offer another way of looking at the world, sometimes to make more known what is already known, to translate into our lives the beauty and promise that nature brings."
"So, Cora…Cora, is it?" another member of the audience joined in, pausing for the senora's confirmation that he's got her name correctly.
With senora's nod, he continued, "Does this mean that art is our reaction to what nature reveals to us?"
"Yes. Look at this bird spreading its wings, a subject of our gaze and scrutiny. Up in the Andes, the real cock-of-the-rock could be closing its wings to protect itself from the wind and the cold. What do we see in this wooden carving? What do we want it to say to us?"
"Brava!" The female tourists from the group clapped their hands at the end of senora Crawley's speech while the male tourists extended their apreton de manos with her, strongly impressed with her explanation…even the man who originally thought less of the wooden bird.
Rosario stepped back and saw senor Crawley stepping back too. His eyes shone with deep admiration and an ember of worship for his wife leapt from behind his pale blue eyes. Upon spotting Rosario standing a step behind him, he turned to her.
"I am pleased we came here, Rosario. Thank you for being our guide."
"De nada, senor. Senora is muy inteligente y persuasiva." Even Rosario was swept with admiration for her female tourist ward. She has already became a fan of this handsome, well-mannered English couple that she had only met three days ago.
"She finished Art Studies first in her class, Rosario. Art has always been her passion. It's her first love." For Rosario, that explained a lot and for that first love, she and senor Crawley were stepping back, giving the senora reign on the matter she is obviously outstanding at.
The discussion inside the Museum is based and inspired by The White Bird, an essay in John Berger's From the Sense of Sight (1986).