Love & The Goddess (26 page)

“How much?” James asked.

“Ten dollars.”

“Too expensive.”

“I do yours five dollars,” another said to me.

Though I’d made an effort at washing off the mud from the trek, my shoes were still in a bad state after our hike. I rooted around my small rucksack where I kept a little coin purse with
just enough money to see me through the day, and took out a five dollar bill. Immediately, the youth argued with me that he would need ten dollars to polish both my boots. I presumed he was going
to barter so I told him I would pay six dollars maximum. To our surprise they appeared to suddenly lose interest, picked up their shoe-shine box and ran away. Just then Raúl arrived, all
friendly smiles.

“We’ve been waiting here since six thirty,” I said, pointing to my watch.

His face turned crimson. “I’m so very sorry. I should have said seven thirty. A problem with translation. But listen, I make it up to you by getting you nice food for a picnic. What
do you want? Fresh bread, cheese, plum tomatoes, ham, olives?” He looked at us expectantly. It was hard to be angry for any length of time with this good-humoured man. “You eat all
this? Yes, with some fresh herbs and pastries? Yes?”

“Hey, I’m coming with you.” James stuffed his camera into a rucksack and handed it to me. “Mind this, Kate – a camera’s a liability in a market. I want to
pick up some of that wonderful dried oregano. I’ll get you both some.”

They disappeared like a puff of wind into the van. Since it was such a beautiful morning, Maria and I decided to cross the street to the town plaza and pass the time sitting on one of the wooden
benches watching the world go by. Puno definitely couldn’t compare with the colonial splendour of Cusco, but the plaza was pretty on a sunny morning. We sat back to witness preparations
getting under way to celebrate a local fiesta, the place gradually getting busier as women in traditional costume passed by. The cooing of pigeons filled the air as a few men erected a stage
several feet away, behind some trees. We paid no more attention to the numerous boys hanging around with their shoe-shine boxes.

“Aagh!” Maria screeched as something landed on her face. Large white daubs were hitting us both, spattering my pink cotton cardigan. “Damn pigeon poo.” But it was far too
plentiful to be pigeon poo. Two boys with spray-paint guns were aiming straight at us. Suddenly, another boy grabbed James’s rucksack from beside me and ran. Leaping to my feet, I chased down
a side-avenue after the boy, wiping the paint out of my eyes with my cardigan as I ran. Fired on adrenalin, I screamed “Stop thief!” to the almost deserted street. The boy, probably
aged around fourteen, rounded a corner and I followed, finding myself out of breath in a shadowy alley with four youths walking menacingly towards me. I froze, aware that I could not escape as they
circled me like vultures.

The tallest of them came closer to me, brandishing a flick knife. He was probably no more than fifteen but when someone holds a knife that close, they’ve all of a sudden become very
powerful, no matter what their age. My Taekwondo skills were not up to scratch. Where was Raúl now that I needed him? He was supposed to be a Kung Fu master. The boy spoke – first in
Spanish and then in accented English. “Empty your pockets, lady. Give me your watch and ring.”

Trembling and sick with fear, not knowing what else to do, I emptied my pockets which contained several crumpled tissues and a stick of chewing gum.

“Your watch and ring,” he ordered again. Seeing me hesitate, he repeated himself and came closer, seizing my hand roughly. My heart raced as terror coursed through my veins. I
attempted to buy time – someone must have seen me chasing them, would come to help.

“They’re both fakes. Give me time. I’ve got a credit card back at the hotel. I can get some money for you at an ATM machine.”

“You think we fools, lady? Last time I ask. Give them to me.”

“Okay, okay!” Terrified for my life, I slid the watch off, followed by the ring.

“Leave her alone.” It was James’s voice, and in an instant they had pushed past me and then him, fleeing like a pack of hyenas. “Are you all right?” James was
panting, concern in his eyes.

“They’ve taken your camera, I’m so sorry.” I was shaking. “And my watch. And my ring.”

He put his arm around me. “It’s me that should be sorry. Christ, I feel guilty for not being around.”

“No. Really, it’s fine.” Tears stung my eyes. “This would never have happened if Raúl had kept to his word. First he doesn’t show up, then after he arrives
he disappears. Well, he’d better use all his tricks to find my jewellery …”

“What possessed you to run after the boy?”

“I don’t know, I just thought he’d panic and drop the bag. Really, I don’t know, James. These guys looked so innocent in the square – only children, really. A
different story when you meet them in a deserted alley …”

“Your watch and ring were insured, right?”

“But they can never be replaced – especially David’s ring.”

“David’s ring?”

As we walked back in to the plaza, I spilled out my rambling thoughts between stifling sobs. “Trevor gave me the Rolex when Julie was born and the ring was to celebrate David’s
birth.” I wept as James squeezed my hand in sympathy. “On my first Sunday home from hospital, Trevor called me after my mid-afternoon nap. I’ll never forget, he was holding David
and had Julie by his side. She was so excited, she said, ‘Mummy the baby has a pressie for you in his handie.’ And then she jumped on to the bed beside me and opened David’s
little fist to reveal the ring.” I drew in a shaky breath. “The gesture was so cute and so imaginative for Trevor. It was one of my most treasured possessions. How ironic that I should
come on a spiritual journey and be robbed of the one possession I vowed I would be buried wearing. I regret coming to Peru now.”

“Kate, you don’t mean that. Maybe this is your personal challenge to overcome.”

“James, I’ve had enough personal challenges over the past couple of months to last me a lifetime.” As we rounded the corner, we found Maria and Raúl talking to two
policemen, their postures erect in smartly-tailored dark uniforms. We could hear Raúl’s voice, “Ah … is terrible.” I was furious with him.

Maria, suddenly spotting me leaning on James’s shoulder for support, came running towards us. “Are you all right, Kate? I was so worried.”

“My watch and ring were taken along with James’s camera,” I announced loud enough for all to hear.

“Now we must all to go to the police to file a complaint,” Raúl said, leading us across the plaza towards the police station. Once there, a plump woman in police uniform
handed us paper cups with coca tea, which I drunk gratefully –I had come to love the drink. Raúl translated questions between us and the police in the tiny grey-walled office. We were
shown a series of mug shots, all young offenders. It was almost impossible to identify any of them for certain, since people of a different ethnic background tend to look alike in the eyes of
tourists, unaccustomed to the subtle nuances we spot in our own race. Children’s faces are even more difficult since time has not yet weathered differences in their features. I could only be
certain of the eldest one, as he had come close enough to threaten my very existence. I could never forget his menacing stare. But I certainly didn’t want to point the finger at an innocent
boy. James and Maria said they recognised two of the shoe-shine boys, but I wasn’t sure about identifying them either as the ones with the plastic guns or as members of the gang in the alley.
Raúl explained that the policeman was certain they were part of a group from Juliaca, a nearby town. From what they were saying, I realised that there was very little hope of retrieving
either the camera or my watch and ring as all stolen goods were quickly passed on for sale on the black market. Most likely they would be sold over the border, into Bolivia. A black cloud enveloped
me as I realised I might never again wear the ring that connected me to David. The thought of it being roughly passed around and ending up in the hands of someone oblivious to its sentimental value
was soul-destroying.

“These boys were obviously watching you for a while to see what each one of you had in your bags. They knew exactly which bag to steal,” Raúl translated after one of the
policemen spoke in Spanish to us.

“That makes sense – my rucksack was very shabby in comparison to either of yours,” said James.

We left the police station and made our way slowly back to the hotel. The overcast sky now appeared menacing, the heat more humid and clingy than I’d previously found it in Peru. My mouth
was dry and I felt quite nauseous. I felt driven to explore every avenue in the hope of getting back my ring. I would go to all the markets, bribe anyone in the hope of getting it back. I called
Raúl over. “I’ve seen how people acknowledge you here on the street. You must have contacts. Surely you can ask around. I’ll even offer a reward. A finder’s fee to
get my ring back.”

“It doesn’t work like this, my sister.” He squeezed his hands together, as if pleading with me to understand. “This older boy is from Juliaca, part of a gang like a local
mafioso. They are not trusting of anyone. They will not take a reward. But I can bring you to the black market to buy a very good fake Rolex for thirty dollars.”

“Are you mad?” I stared at him in disbelief. “That won’t solve anything.”

“I can only tell you how sorry I am.”

“How do you know they won’t take a finder’s fee? If I offer five hundred dollars as a reward, that’s much more than they could make selling my watch and ring on the black
market, right?”

Raúl alternated between screwing up his face and stretching his eyes open wide as if he was searching for the right words to convince me. “It does not work this way, my dear Kate.
You have insurance, yes?”

“But the sentimental value …”

He placed an arm around my back. “I understand this is upsetting for you but James has also has lost something, his camera, and he accepts it.”

Immediately, I felt the tears flowing. “Oh James, I’m sorry, all your lovely Mayan photographs and all the food pictures…”

“Kate, don’t worry about that. It would be much worse if they’d cut your finger off to get the ring, because that can happen…”

“You’re right, I’m sorry, but I can’t help grieving… It was my precious link to David…”

As we arrived in the door of our hotel, Raúl said, “Why don’t we go on the journey we had planned for earlier today? It’s just one hour away. We can meditate and have a
ceremony. Maybe something will happen during this time.” I didn’t know what he meant by this, but James and Maria agreed and so I reluctantly accepted the idea, despite feeling
I’d rather storm the whole of Puno looking for my ring.

The three of us boarded the black van, and the shaman drove in silence. I was reminded of the Healer’s ashram as Loreena McKennitt’s soothing music played on the stereo – the
Canadian singer was popular with “spiritual folk”. We passed men and women herding llamas, sheep and goats against a backdrop of mountains, some of which were curiously flat-topped.
Finally, after driving up a steep pass, we got out to hike the remainder. It was an easy climb as the mountain was paved with wide evenly-paced steps.

“We are ascending.” Raúl was walking ahead of us, but half turned towards us, taking sideways steps, motioning his hands in the manner of an orchestra conductor. “As we
ascend physically, our spirits find it easier to ascend.”

On the top of the mountain were pre-Incan burial chambers called
chulpas
. Made from large rocks like those we had previously seen in Machu Picchu, the stones once again slotted together
without the use of mortar to form a cylindrical funerary tower on one side and a rectangular tower on the other. Each had an opening at ground level. All the openings faced east, Raúl told
us, due to the belief that the sun is reborn by Mother Earth each day.

Raúl had spent some time in Asia studying martial arts and the Tao. He explained to us that by practicing very simple Qui Gong, we could channel energy and improve our health. I was
familiar with this idea from attending Taekwondo classes where the instructor taught us a little about Qui Gong. As we stood on the top of the mountain, Raúl led us through some very basic
exercises, while we breathed deeply and stood in an open stance with our weight evenly distributed on both legs. It was strangely relaxing yet empowering to do this on the top of a mountain.
“These exercises will help you clear away all the negative energy of the day. Help to free you up and to allow great spirit work through you,” Raúl said.

Afterwards, he invited us to sit on one of the many large rocks littered around as he shook scented Peruvian flower water over each of us. Next, he talked us through a visualisation for
meditation. Sitting there, with my eyes closed, simultaneously aware of the stunning view, I felt totally enraptured by nature. The warm breeze caressed my cheek, like a tender embrace from
Pachamama herself. My upturned palms began to quiver, as though they were powered into a gentle current sending soothing waves throughout my body. Though I couldn’t understand what was
happening, I relaxed into that lovely feeling. My heart was opening as though my chest was expanding – there was a sudden feeling of surrendering to a power so much greater than anything
I’d ever dared imagine, let alone believe existed. I knew there and then that my capacity for love had no boundaries, that I was loved unconditionally, and that my spirit understood love. I
was simultaneously the lover, the beloved and love itself. And I wanted everyone in the world to have the gift of feeling as I did in that moment.

When Raúl told us to start coming out from meditation, I didn’t want to. I wished to remain in that blissful state forever, there on that mountain forever. Of course that
wasn’t possible. Looking across at James and Maria stretching their arms like newborn infants, it seemed they too had experienced what I had felt. Afterwards we picked cocoa leaves and as we
blew on one each, we made an intention, like a wish, before placing it in the opening at the base of the circular burial chamber called a
chulpa
. My intention was that I would again
experience that same sense of serenity whenever I most needed it.