Urubamba, Peru – The sun seems to rise earlier here at the equator.Wandering into the dining room at Nevo House, I am greeted by sunshine that gleams over the mountains, spilling onto the white walls and blue baseboards, warming the patterned tile floor below.
Looking out the short, narrow wooden doors toward the courtyard, idyllic pyramids of rock, brushed green, rise from the horizon in every direction. Three laminate-surfaced tables rest at the centre of the room, framed by wooden chairs, spaced around all sides to (tightly) accommodate the 20 members of our team. On the walls hang posters of popular destinations in Peru, a smattering of maps and correspondence and pictures from those who have formally lived and worked here.
At the centre of each table rests a plate with discs of bread, jam, margarine, a thermos of hot water for tea and a bowl of hard-boiled eggs. Spanish radio chirps from the kitchen and my nose dances to the aroma of lunch wafting out with the tune. Lost in the beauty of my surroundings as the sun kisses my skin, I am suddenly rousted from my reverie by an eye, peering around the corner.
Clutching a slice tomato in one hand, year-old Danery, daughter of one of them women who works here, looks shyly, blinks and unleashes the largest smile possible, saying “dada.”
My morning is complete, and it has yet to begin.
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