Cloisters Of St Catherine

I must be feeling better because I got out and about yesterday. The usual morning in the clinic…and Layne is healing well. 

Lunch at our favorite eatery, 13 Nuns on St Catherine Street, where books compete with ubiquitous cellphones. 

We had a couple of vegetarian dishes. Grilled cauliflower which was excellent: 

And a teriyaki chicken salad:

The maitre d’ was surprised to see us long term tourists back again and offered us a chocolate brownie to finish up. Excellent. 

Then we split with Layne Ubering home, while I, with no walking restrictions went to see an actual tourist site.

This Dominican nunnery was founded in 1579 and part of it is still functioning behind closed doors. The tourist site covers about five acres of walled city and is operated by a private cooperation as the nunnery was opened to the public in 1970.  The literature claims that these cloisters put Arequipa on the tourist map. This corridor below is where the nuns used to come to meet visitors. 

They talked to the visitors, usually family members, through this double grille. The intimacy was extended to any packages dropped off on a lazy Susan which prevented human contact. 

The nunnery is under the orders of the Archbishop of Arequipa so if he or other big dogs came calling there was a proper receiving room for them: 

And beyond the modest visitor facilities lies the nunnery itself with its three famous cloisters. 

If you wanted to join the nunnery you started out as a novice for the first year and got your own cloister: 

Think of these arched walkways as mediation spaces and gyms where you could pray and walk out of the weather.

The novices wore white and walked around these cloisters as part of their daily devotional with one read the inscription on each painting “Mary Immaculate Virgin and Saint” and the group of novitiates would say in chorus “Pray for us” and in yo the next image. 

Outside the walls Peru might be in ferment but in here women stuck to their schedules. Below the ornate rain spout. 

And below the elaborate system of open drains that funneled the rain from the spouts. The nunnery was a complex organization run as its own enterprise, a city with rules and customs and its own aggravations. There was a period where the Prioress (the boss elected every three years) got into a public fight with the bishop her nominal boss and the courts cane into play in a years long lawsuit. 

I was educated in a large well known Catholic boarding school run by Benedictine monks so the weirdness of monastic life isn’t unknown to me. The abbey called Downside in southwest England, has been closed following a sex scandal (of which I knew nothing at the time) by predatory monks, so I view these kinds of places with a certain detachment even though the rituals and symbols are familiar to me. 

Here is the blue cloister with some orss as textures for shade. 

And decoration. 

At its 18th century peak there were about 300 women, nuns and their servants living in this self contained walled community. One thing I found and find very weird is how women got a place at St Catherine’s nunnery.  The short answer is money. If your family had money they paid a “dowry” so you could marry Christ and take vows of poverty chastity and obedience and based on the amount of money you got an apartment with a number of rooms based on your contribution. 

The rooms had alcoves with an arched roof to protect the occupant in the event of an earthquake. Wealthy nuns got an outside kitchen and perhaps a garden and servants as well. Poverty of a sort. 

Women too poor to buy their way in could call themselves “donors” and donate their time to the cause by living in the nunnery and waiting on the wealthy nuns. 

I can’t say women it had it easy then or to sine extent now in Peru so possibly retreating to the safety of a nunnery run by women offering a space for arts and crafts, peace and meditation and security was no bad thing but for me  it’s c more an indictment of the world outside where women were chattel.  

And if you had any religious fervor and your family did need you to seal a peace treaty by marriage a life in the cloisters in 17th century Peru would have been serene compared to negotiating one’s virginity, a prized possession outside. After wandering about a bit lost I finally figured out to follow the discreet cast iron arrows high on the walls. 

The cloister of the oranges:

The mortuary laying out room lined with pictures of some of the dead nuns.  Your body would be laid out, prayers said and best wishes for the journey of the deceased bride of Christ to meet her long lost husband. 

To accommodate the living there are a half  dozen streets named for Spanish cities, Malaga, Seville, Burgos and Granada, Córdoba and Toledo with apartments and living quarters on each. Malaga:

The infirmary with earthquake proof alcoves to house the sick: 

There is also a well equipped souvenir shop inside part of the infirmary. These cloisters are one of the biggest attractions in Arequipa and we found them choked with lines the first two times we tried to visit. 

Cordoba:

The door to the modern nunnery sectioned off since 1970 in a private area of the nunnery: 

Malaga, the longest street:



Seville:

The outdoor laundry built in 1770, used repurposed clay jars cut in half and used as basins with water diverted from the garden irrigation system. No bad thing having a servant in here. 

The vegetable garden. In times of turmoil women from the city were admitted to safety in here and they camped in the garden while they waited for the latest revolution to die down.  

If a life of contemplation and withdrawal appeals you can see the attraction of this place. Plus you weren’t going to die in agony at an appallingly young age in childbirth the most common way women died in that era. 

A nunnery it may be but it was a functioning society with a bakery and warehouses and stores to feed the occupants. 

I do not find Arequipa to have a very scenic overview. Getting up high just seems to show off a jumble of untidy dusty rooftops. 

Confessionals: the very Catholic art of wiping the slate clean every week as long as you have the nerve to say it out loud.

The confessions were heard by priests brought in for the job and hidden behind grates. Normal operating procedure more or less:

The main cloister. I was about ready to quit at this point but I pressed on and have the pictures to prove it if you’ve kept this far.

There were art galleries to view with 400 pieces of colonial art as they call it in the Cusco style. This one I liked with the bishop’s servants handing out alms: 

The most famous Umbrian of all was present. St Francis of Assisi depicted in the style of the Cusco school of painting: 

Catholics are required to believe that during Mass the priest turns bread into God and during the reformation hundreds of thousands of people died ordered tortured in this arcane point. For Catholics it’s actually god not a representation. Therefore you need something valuable to show off the consecrated host. It’s called a monstrance, it’s made of gold and Catholics worship the host contained within. 

I dare say it was the most intrinsically valuable object we saw. God is a shepherd and we are his sheep. 

There it is, a bit closer surrounded by Art. 

And let’s not forget the Blessed Ana of the Angels Monteagudo. Her name was sent by the bishop to the pope in 1686 after she died with a request she be considered for sainthood. A shipwreck derailed the effort and the letter never arrived in Rome. Two hundred years later they tried again and in 1985 in the fullness of Vatican time Pope John Paul II declared her blessed, the first step. 

She made it into the nunnery despite her poverty and several miraculous cures are attributed to her. Above we see the whip she used to thrash herself and below we see her actual hair shirt. This stuff is pretty barbaric because this isn’t animal hair as the original hair shorts were made with animal hide worn to irritate the skin and make you forget your sinful self. No, this one is made of rusty metal pieces attached to a cloth that is worn on the back tied around neck and waist. 

Anyway I got past the rusty instruments of torture and struggled to find my way out. The communal dining room. 

Meals were eaten in silence in this hall. 

While one member of the community stood up here and read improving literature to the diners. Probably not exciting tales of knights errant but lore likely to d lives of the saints and so forth. It is a bit like the readers in the Cuban tobacco factory and the monks at my youthful monastery did the same thing. We students didn’t, we unruly mobbed yelled pushed, shoved and gorged in our civilian dining room then ran outside to torture each other. What sweet young things we were. 

Back to reality. 

A neighborhood not dissimilar to the streets inside the nunnery…

Similar rain gutters. 

And a different life for them. 

Arequipa Public Health

Every two days Layne has to see a doctor to get her leg surgery checked. She’s not supposed to walk on it much at all so we are not wandering around doing interesting things. 

I walk Rusty, we sit and read, Layne with leg up, we cough in alternating barrages as we struggle to get over our head colds. What a pair of crocks we are.

It’s not actually not bad sitting in the sun with Rusty snoring in the tall grass heads in Kindles so we make the most of it, like CNN proper retirees. 

I am getting a little restless as my cold is giving way finally and I am starting to feel actively human again, so I’m planning a photo walk with my camera to spend some time not feeling completely stationary. 

It’s an odd thing about making a journey with a goal even with an open ended timeline in that the compulsion to move is always in my mind. I like being a nomad and I don’t like seeing GANNET2 gathering dust in a campground. But we’re in a good spot for what needs to be done. 

Yesterday we had to show up at the public hospital at 9am to have the surgeon inspect the site of the skin cancer removal. After a delay as we waited among the crowds of applicants for medical attention the surgeon cleared the wound and changed the gauze and pronounced it excellent. The pain has been far less post surgery than in past operations Layne has been through. 

But the public hospital - oh my. People line up outside some doors and crowds gather around others as though besieging them. The pressure in the staff is unsustainable and the stress shows. The staff are efficient, short tempered and firm in holding back the begging petitioners waving paperwork through the gaps in the doorways.  

It’s horrible to jump lines, to get picked out by the surgeon and watch the eyes follow your gringo back. It would be worse to have to join the petitioners as we just aren’t used to pleading for our lives. We’ve lived with decent health insurance, we have expectations even here in Peru where we paid cash, four months of minimum wage, for service. Want to know what it feels like to be the richest patient in the corridor? Come here for a check up. 

We have another appointment Wednesday for another check up, which may or may not be here or at a clinic. 

It was a relief to get to the sidewalk and wait for the Uber. I keep thinking about getting a terminal diagnosis here. It wouldn’t be like the attention I got at Jackson South in Miami with my city insurance. 

It may be a hospital but it is also an economic opportunity. 

I need to photograph something pretty for a change. In a week I fly to Miami. It will be interesting to photograph the Overseas Highway again. That will be a change. 

Recovering In Arequipa

So what do you do if you get sick and you…you live in…a van? You recover or die I guess are the only two options. And if you plan on recovering having another person to help out would be useful. I rather failed there, because as Layne prepared to have surgery on a big black spot on her leg I came down with something that felt like Covid. I tested myself and it wasn’t but I was knocked flat.

The owner of our campground kindly turned us on to a skin doctor in town and we Ubered to see her in her office at the San Juan de Dios private hospital. It took her five seconds to establish Layne had two skin cancers that needed to be removed. The one on her arm was no big deal but the one on her leg looked more involved. She said neither had the characteristics of serious cancers (biopsy to follow of course). 

Then she set us up with an appointment with the surgeon and told us she was transferring our $26 consultation fee to his office as she hadn’t really done anything. That blew us away there and then but there was more. 

On the streets of Arequipa life went on as normal and we had this surgery appointment hanging over our heads. 

Our travel plans were on hold until we knew what exactly was going on here. We have permission to be in Peru until October 10th so that isn’t a problem and down south it’s still winter barely moving into Spring so we are in no hurry to travel to Patagonia just yet. 

On the other hand I do miss driving and seeing things but this is an excellent place to stop. The weather is perfect in dry season, sunny day follows sunny day with cool nights and no variations. 

It wasn’t an easy time for Rusty who kept finding himself closed in the van when we had to take an Uber to get another medical appointment. We’ve tried leaving him outside in campgrounds but he howls miserably at the gate so putting him in the van is the best answer. He sleeps and it’s where he knows he belongs. 

Before the surgery Layne had to meet a cardiologist to do some tests to make sure she was safe to receive a local anaesthetic  and that was one more appointment. The ability to speak Spanish is very helpful as English is not readily spoken in Peru. The surgeon had some English but we understood each other in Spanish. He explained we could have a small cut for no scar or a wide cut which would heal more easily but would probably leave a scar. He illustrated it thus: 

Last time in the US Layne got a very small cut and it took months to heal and very painfully. Layne opted for the long cut which would allow skin to be folded over the wound making recovery simpler and faster. His patience explaining this stuff was remarkable. 

The fee for everything including an overnight stay for observation, with a crappy breakfast (below) and follow up visits totaled $1200. Not only was that affordable (for us, not necessarily for your average Peruvian) but Layne got excellent care. The surgeon checked her wound and rebandaged it the morning after, the nurse handed him the gauze but he applied it. I’ve never seen that in the US. The long wound was already less painful than Layne’s previous surgeries. 

We have follow up visits scheduled with doctors checking the wound every couple of days to ensure nothing goes wrong. In the US when Layne complained of pain the medical center assured her over the phone that it would pass. It did but it took six months. 

Back to the van with me enfeebled by my cold and snuffling. A wheel chair to the curb where an Uber awaited.

The first follow up was in a public hospital and we got to see free medical care in action for people who couldn’t afford a $26 dollar fee. It was crowded with huge lines of people standing in vast crowds outside each door to admissions or consulting rooms. 

Again the doctor herself checked the wound and put fresh gauze on it and gave us instructions for applying antiseptic over the weekend.

I tried to snag a photo of the crowds and failed rather dismally but it did not look like fun getting an appointment  there. 

Layne was walking well and we stepped outside to wait for the Uber. 

One weird thing was the street filled with funeral parlors. Judging by the cab loaded with new coffins for delivery business must be brisk. 

And if we feel the need we have a design specification to convert our Promaster into a hearse complete with hooks to hang wreaths off the roof:  

And we got a ride home to GANNET2 and Rusty in a Jet Tour X70 a Chinese SUV you’ll never see in the US. It looked like a regular car to me but what do I know? 

We both have felt the level of care throughout this business has been excellent though being able to speak some Spanish, and medical terms are tough, has been very helpful. Laynes recovery is going so well I have tickets booked to fly to Miami on the 10th of September. A four day flying visit to Key West  for a new driver’s license. That trip will cost almost as much as Layne’s surgery. And we could still afford another $26 consultation fee if we had to. We are the lucky ones.

Sins Of The Flesh

I have been unable to post these past couple of days owing partly to my own suddenly poor state of health, inasmuch as I have a rather debilitating head cold. With Layne having surgery for two skin cancers my timing could not have been worse.

Happily all went well though they kept Layne in overnight just to make sure the wounds start healing properly. They were very thorough before during and after the skin cancer surgery at Clínica Florez in Arequipa. 

Rusty went looking for Layne when I came home to feed him but settled down patiently as I came and went during the operation Thursday evening. He is a good and patient dog. 

She should be home today and if needs be we can rent a room here for her at the campground’s hotel. I meanwhile am coughing and spluttering and slowly recovering. It’s been a bit rough one way and another.