Saturday was the day of the living. I unfortunately had to teach. They were catching up classes for the time taken for the strikes. After school I went hiking with one of the other volunteers Ditte, she's from Denmark. We were aiming for one of the three crosses scattered over the mountains overlooking Urubamba. We never got there, but we followed a really pretty trail next to an irrigation stream. Eventually that trail stopped, so we stepped into the dry bed of the stream, we followed that for a bit, chatting and appreciating the scenery. Then it stopped somewhere in a field. We decided to try and get off the mountain as it was becoming time to head home. That was easier said than done. We walked douwn out of the field, whit a dog barking at us like crazy. All we found were more fields, no way down at all. Then we thought, if these fields are cultivated, there must be a way down to town. Well there was, but we were also on someone's land. And she was not happy with us. She yelled at us and nearly set her dog on us (guess we should have paid more attention when it was barking at us before). There was nothing to do but go back the way we came. We found the irrigation stream again, and luckily found a way down from there. We were home in time for dinner, and before dark.

On Sunday we went hiking again. We had seen the path going up the day before and we really wanted to try and get up there. As with every trail around here, the trick is to find it. So we walked around, crossed a few fields. Then we spotted a little house about a third of the way up the mountain (Georgia says I'm not allowed to call it a mountain, but Ditte and I disagree). It looked like we might be able to join the trail there. So we crossed another field, this time inhabited by cows, who looked at us like we were crazy. We followed a tiny trail up to the house (which turned out to be a church), and looked from a straight cliff face down on the trail we wanted to be following. There was no way down that wouldn't kill us. Luckily we did see the start of the trail and how to get there. So we turned around. It was all worth it when we got to the top. We saw the entire sacred valley spread out beneath us. I could see my house from up there. So we had a break to take in the breathtaking view and shared some of the pan Huahua that my host mum gave me. Pan Huahua is the traditional bread that the Peruvian people eat on the day of the living. It's sweet bread, reminiscent of brioche, with sweets stuck on top. Very tasty, but she gave me a whole one. It was bigger than my head, so there was no way I could eat it all. For lunch we had traditional day-of-the-living food. Which is pork, that my host mum went out to get, and was really good. Crunchy outside, juicy inside, just hat to cut around the big blobs of pig fat. Next to that there were two tamales, which are maizemeal with different things mixed in. Then they are wrapped in a banana leaf. You get one sweet one (with raisins), and one savoury one (with olives and bits of meat).

Monday was the day of the dead. Everybody was off, but of course, my school was not. Because of the early stop in December, they are continuing through all the holidays in November. There was still time to celebrate the day of the dead though. After lunch we went to the graveyard. This was a unique experience. I thought it would be a little disrespectful to take pictures, so I'll describe it for you. Imagine a graveyard. Now lose the carefully laid out paths. Stop imagining the graves in neat rows. Nope, not in approximately chronological order either. Tombes next to graves, not a problem. Utter random chaos, graves mostly topped with homemade wooden crosses. For the day of the dead the whole village comes out. Everyone goes to visit their dead relatives, they clean the graves, fix the wooden crosses that have fallen down or broken during the year. They say a prayer. Then they sit down and break out the beer. They go say hi to their friends, then sit around with their families. They remember their relatives. Outside the cemetery there are tons of little stalls selling food. So everyone merrily eats and drinks sitting around chilling with the dead. It's not sad, it's not scary, it's one enormous party. It was really fun to see. We walked around to visit all of my host mums dead relatives who were buried there, we said hi to a very far ancestor that none of her generation knew, but they knew where he was buried (approximately, she got it wrong the first time), we said hi to her family, who were gathered around the graves of her father, aunt, and sister. Her mum was buried in a tomb more towards the front of the cemetery. It was decorated beautifully with lots of flowers. Also the dead have the best view. The cemetery is located at the top of the hill, so you can look out of the whole of Urubamba. I guess it's easier that way for the dead to keep a protective eye on their living relatives.