Huancayo and Chupaca Market

We had learned from previous mistakes and this time decided not to do one of our typical hour-long wanders in search of the perfect place. Instead we took our heavy bags and equally heavy eyelids to stay at the first place we laid eyes on once we'd jumped off the train. We were pleased with our choice - double room with bathroom and cable tv for 10 pounds, nice. We had planned a nice long stay of three to four days in this town in the Andes plains as I'd read about lots of nearby market towns that I was interested in visiting. Not only that but Huancayo and its surrounding villages are said to have between them over 400 festivals per year - yep, that works out at more than one per day! We were intrigued to say the least and hoped to catch a few of them during our four day stay.

After we'd dumped our bags at the quickly-sought-out hotel we went on a hunt for food. Our search led us to the vibrant town square where there were tens upon tens of rotisserie chicken cafes. It seems that this is the food of choice in Peru and we can say goodbye to the Lomo for a while. The smells drifting from the many restaurants weren't quite enough to lead these travellers to yet another quick decision; our old habit was back to haunt us and I think we must have looked at every menu in town before we sat down at a place. It was more curiosity than anything - arriving in this mountainous town, the highest above sea level we'd been for a good while, and seeing mile upon mile of Chris's favourite Sunday treat from Paris: rotisserie chicken - it was all a bit much to take in!

We finally settled on a huge place, brimming with locals and with a set menu of salad, 1/4 chicken and chips for 8 pesos. That seemed to be the going rate in this town (£2) for this set menu and it was what everyone else had on their table. The only other gringos in this lively, bustling, HUGE place were two fat American business men who had somehow ended up in this town and were saying grace (eyes closed, hands clasped together - to each others' hands...) over the mahoosive parilla BBQ before them - I think they were the only people in the place to stray from the 1/4 chicken menu. Yum yum, rub my tum! That's what we both had to say about our delicious meal. Proper chip-pan chips too... Another reason for me to enjoy my stay in this country which is home to over 2000 varieties of potato (and over 1200 of corn too, don't you know!).

One of the 2000 varieties...

One of the Saturday market towns I'd read about was called Chupaca and after walking around aimlessly for a good while trying to find the right bus we finally jumped on what seemed to be one to this town. We'd actually planned to visit a completely different market town but I couldn't remember the name for the life of me (had forgotten my note where I'd written it down, duh) and as more and more buses passed shouting the names of towns that seemed semi-familiar, I gave up remembering.

Like in Lima, here the buses (small, privately run mini-buses) stop wherever there is a passenger to be picked up and there is always someone - most often a teenage boy - dangling precariously out of the side as the bus drives along, shouting the name of the town as hard as his lungs will allow him as the bus goes by. We heard "Chupaca, Chupaca, feria, feria" over and over again as more and more buses whizzed by us. Knowing that the word 'feria' in French signals holiday, we hoped there may be some relationship in Spanish, thinking we might be in for a treat with one of Huancayo valley's many fiestas.

What we found when we got to Chupaca was not so much a fiesta as a town buzzing with its lively Saturday market which had taken over almost every street, snaked down every alley, every nook and cranny you could possibly imagine. This turned out to be one of my favourite days on the trip so far for being so completely local and encapsulating what seemed to be everyday Peruvian life in the Andes.


Wow, it was so much fun to be walking around amidst the traditionally dressed Andes community. The traditional get-up for women is thick, woolley leggings covered by a number of skirts (there must be more than one as they stick out for miles!) a smart blouse and a cardigan. And not forgetting a lovely sun hat. On their backs they'll carry a beautifully bright thick cloth, woven with a design that´s been traditional to these parts for centuries, which they use as a bag to carry their goods (or else a baby) around the market.




Chris continued to mistake babies for sacks of potatoes (luckily not the other way round) when women walked past us carrying a huge lump on their backs in the cloth bag that could surely only be potatoes... Not until we saw two feet dangling from the bottom did we realise that a lot of these women were actually carrying a small child! Their hair is styled into two long plaits and honestly, this whole description doesn't vary from woman to woman. Admittedly there are some younger women who have adopted a more Western style with trousers, t-shirt and cardigan yet they still carry the cloth bag and their babies on their back. Sometimes the child they're carrying varies to be a huge mound of herbs and we took this video of one such lady collecting her wares and preparing her 'bag' ready to carry away.

The Chicken aisle...

The corn aisle...

The Potato aisle...

The market truly was a necessary part of these peoples' lives, many of whom we assumed to live quite rurally and make this journey weekly to pick up their necessities for the week ahead. There weren't really any wares attractive to tourists: none of the bags, trousers, or other souvenirs that gringos are usually attracted to featured here. The stalls sold only food and household goods necessary for Andean life. Chris and I did manage to pick up a few little trinkets such as potato peelers however (why wouldn't you!?).




One of our tasks today had been to find a place that showed the England - USA world cup match (yes, that´s how far behind we are with the blog!!) without it having to dictate our day or ruin a day of culture. Sadly for Chris, the establishments with a television in this town only served food; none served beer. We settled on another rotisserie chicken place (we didn't see any other option in this town!) and this time the 1/4 chicken menu was a mere 5 pesos (£1.25). The locals were intrigued to find that they were now hosting both an English person and a United States American during this match. We caved during the second half and went in search of a beer, persuading a lovely lady to buy us one in from the shop next door!

Today had been our first taste of Andean culture and tradition and it was a thoroughly wonderful day. We saw only one group of backpackers in the town and this made us mightily pleased.

Back in Huancayo the day after we were ready for Huancayo's own weekly market which was home to touristy souvenirs along with the bags of potatoes and fruit and veg for the locals. Chris and I almost fell victim to one of the popular pickpocketing scams here but luckily we'd read about it earlier so managed to save ourselves just in time. It's a very simple trick and easy to fall for...

As we were walking down one of the market isles, a local lady walked past us in the opposite direction and dropped a handful of CDs beside us, apparently unaware of her mistake. As Chris bent down to pick them up for her with the intention of calling her back, something struck me in a split second as being rather odd about this. The CDs had dropped with a loud noise so there was no way she couldn't have noticed, and sure enough, as soon as I shouted to Chris that this was a trick and grabbed his bag tightly in my hand, a younger man stepped away from us looking sheepish. This man, clearly CD-lady's accomplice ready to pounce on our bag as soon as Chris was caught unawares picking up CDs, didn't know which way to turn but quickly scarpered once he saw my intent at keeping hold of the bag. Chris and I are now making a conscious effort not to pick anything up for anyone... It's more difficult than you imagine as it's normally a reflex thing to do if you see someone drop something.

Another scam involves someone squirting mustard or something onto your back before their accomplice comes to let you know and help you wipe it off. In the meantime, Mr. Mustard-Squirter catches you unawares and relieves you of your bag. We are going to have to train ourselves to keep on walking if either of us end up with anything squirted on us...

After we'd looked around yet another market, we headed back to the main square where a huge procession was taking place. It looked like we had caught one of the fiestas after all. Some local students told us it was to celebrate the birthday of the university.

We had had some bad news re our travel plans the night before when we learned that miners´ strikes would be blocking the road to Lima. The bus companies weren't even running buses between the two towns during the strikes as it was too dangerous and they had no idea how long this 24 hour strike would really go on for. This unfortunately meant we would have to leave early, taking the bus back after only two days. We felt lucky however that we had experienced such a normal and non-touristy event as the market and our day in Chupaca had ended up being one of our favourites of the whole trip for it's simplicity and introduction to such a colourful and interesting culture.