When choosing menus for a group you have to be very, very careful. There are some truly delicious and some very scary local delicacies throughout the world but for every person on an incentive trip that would be keen to try there are twenty more who couldn’t think of anything worse. As a result I tend to choose beautiful food but food that is easily identifiable as something familiar and not too ‘exotic’.
So I was very surprised when at least half of the members of my group to Peru approached me within the first few days on the trip saying that they’d been challenged by the folks back home to try ‘Cuy’ (or Guinea Pig as you or I would say).
With those sorts of numbers I needed to give them what they wanted. But, never one to give everything away, I just nodded sympathetically and said that I understood but that I had to cater for everyone so it probably wouldn’t happen. I then slunk off to the caterer for my gala dinner and had a quiet word.
When Cuy is served ‘formally’ at an event it’s cooked just like a suckling pig and arrives on the silver platter with a cherry tomato in its mouth. I arranged for two Cuy, one as a ‘presentation pig’ (for the photo opportunities) and one that would be chopped into small pieces so that everyone could have a taste.
At speech time, before dessert and after the VIP had said his thing I took the microphone and centre stage.
“Hello everyone. I hope you’ve enjoyed your time here in Peru and are as sad as I am to be leaving tomorrow. Now, most of you have told me at some point on the trip that you would have liked to have tried the Guinea Pig.
Well I tried and tried to get hold of one and finally today, while we were in Ollantaytambo I had a bit of luck...”
(At this point the waiters appeared bearing the sacrificial guinea pig and were greeted with spontaneous cheers and applause from the group. I waited a few seconds until people had started to try their mouthful of guinea pig and carried on….)
“I do hope you enjoy it and please don’t be at all distressed at the thought that at this very moment, there’s a little girl in Ollantaytambo who is saying to her mum “Mummy, why did little Pedro have to go away…..?”
Heartless lot!
PS: For those of you who are wondering, it tastes just like pork (strange eh)……..but crunchier.
Showing posts with label Peru. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Peru. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Monday, August 31, 2009
Beer and High heels in Machu Pichu
The five words most guaranteed to strike terror into the heart of any incentive travel Director is “we’ve run out of beer’.
Now I go to great lengths to make sure that this doesn’t happen. On each site inspection I spend an extraordinary amount of time discussing this issue with suppliers. In fact, I stress the importance of sufficient quantities of beer so much that I’m sure they think that it’s got nothing to do with my group at all and that I am in fact a closet dipso.
They just won’t believe me when I say that Australian groups drink a lot of beer and that should the worst happen and supplies run out then it could get ugly…….
Fortunately, most of my suppliers humour me and functions swing happily along with no disasters but once in while, despite my best efforts (and due to the best efforts of my beer-loving companions) the worst happens. And wouldn’t you just know it, it always happens in the most impossible location.
Take Peru. Chugging through the mountains between Cuzco and Machu Picchu on the Orient Express, one of the most luxurious trains in the world. Fine dining, stunning views and a carriage full of excited Aussies, all looking forward to climbing the famous ruins. On the outbound journey they were all very well behaved and heeding my warnings about drinking at high altitude with the prospect of some heavy exercise ahead.
Machu Picchu….. we arrived, we walked, we climbed, we marveled, we took a group photo, we had afternoon tea.
(I’m not being flippant, I just can’t begin to put into words how special this place is so please, please, if you ever get the opportunity, go and see it for yourself)
At this point I must mention a very special woman. I had been incredibly specific about the clothing and footwear necessary for Machu Picchu in the itinerary and everyone had appeared in the required attire. All except one. This lovely lady turned up in 4 inch wedges and refused to change them even when I begged. I started the day anticipating multiple broken limbs or at the worst, her tripping and freefalling down into a Canyon but she walked, climbed and scaled with the best of them with not a single complaint and not a single blister. Not that she’d have dared utter a word I suppose after my entreaties of the morning…..
By the end of the day she’d escalated from foolhardy to a goddess in my eyes. Talk about stamina!
By the time the group had had a quick squiz around the markets at the train station and was back on board the train they were ready to really enjoy themselves on the three hour or so journey back to Cuzco.
Dinner was served and savoured and then, not wanting them to miss out of the entertainment in the bar I led a 60 person strong conga line down the train to start things off. Waiting there were two of the best musicians I’ve found in a long while – armed with nothing but a guitar, a tambourine and a wooden box seat which doubled as a drum they swung straight into Waltzing Matilda (They didn’t speak a word of English so I’d sent them the words and music and they’d learnt it especially for the group). From there into Beatles, Rolling Stones and so on and so on and the party began.
About 1 hour into the trip the train manager, looking very concerned, pulled me to one side.
“Miss Lisa, we’ve run out of beer…..”
“What? We went through this, you promised me you’d triple your supplies just so this didn’t happen!!”
“We did Miss Lisa! But they’ve drunk everything!”
“Well, where can we get some more?”
She gave me a very odd look and at this point even I realized how stupid my last question was. We were chugging through the mountains, dark, quiet, not a house in sight.
“Are you telling me there’s not a single village between here and Cuzco?” I asked.
“Well no, there is one about 10 minutes up the track. There is a small station but we don’t stop there.” She replied.
“We do now”
15 minutes later some very surprised, sleepy villagers were roused from…..whatever they were doing, putting the llamas to bed or something……and relieved of every bottle of beer they possessed. They charged a very reasonable price (if the beer had been Moet & Chandon that is) and beerless but happy they waived our train off.
My group, still partying in the bar, greeted the beer with cheers and applause – keen to try the local brew.
Whatever was in it worked. I’d have given my left arm to have been standing on the platform in Cuzco when our train pulled in. The entire train was empty, except for 60 jumping, dancing, crazy Aussies bouncing around to the music in the bar car. Our coach drivers, waiting on the platform couldn't speak for laughing and I had to more or less physically hold them back from boarding the train to join in.
So reluctant was this incentive group to call it quits it took me 30 minutes and the combined efforts of the train manager, the train guides, the train driver and the chef to get them off the train. And the lady in the heels? She carried on dancing all the way to the coaches. Ah me, what a night........
Now I go to great lengths to make sure that this doesn’t happen. On each site inspection I spend an extraordinary amount of time discussing this issue with suppliers. In fact, I stress the importance of sufficient quantities of beer so much that I’m sure they think that it’s got nothing to do with my group at all and that I am in fact a closet dipso.
They just won’t believe me when I say that Australian groups drink a lot of beer and that should the worst happen and supplies run out then it could get ugly…….
Fortunately, most of my suppliers humour me and functions swing happily along with no disasters but once in while, despite my best efforts (and due to the best efforts of my beer-loving companions) the worst happens. And wouldn’t you just know it, it always happens in the most impossible location.
Take Peru. Chugging through the mountains between Cuzco and Machu Picchu on the Orient Express, one of the most luxurious trains in the world. Fine dining, stunning views and a carriage full of excited Aussies, all looking forward to climbing the famous ruins. On the outbound journey they were all very well behaved and heeding my warnings about drinking at high altitude with the prospect of some heavy exercise ahead.
Machu Picchu….. we arrived, we walked, we climbed, we marveled, we took a group photo, we had afternoon tea.
(I’m not being flippant, I just can’t begin to put into words how special this place is so please, please, if you ever get the opportunity, go and see it for yourself)
At this point I must mention a very special woman. I had been incredibly specific about the clothing and footwear necessary for Machu Picchu in the itinerary and everyone had appeared in the required attire. All except one. This lovely lady turned up in 4 inch wedges and refused to change them even when I begged. I started the day anticipating multiple broken limbs or at the worst, her tripping and freefalling down into a Canyon but she walked, climbed and scaled with the best of them with not a single complaint and not a single blister. Not that she’d have dared utter a word I suppose after my entreaties of the morning…..
By the end of the day she’d escalated from foolhardy to a goddess in my eyes. Talk about stamina!
By the time the group had had a quick squiz around the markets at the train station and was back on board the train they were ready to really enjoy themselves on the three hour or so journey back to Cuzco.
Dinner was served and savoured and then, not wanting them to miss out of the entertainment in the bar I led a 60 person strong conga line down the train to start things off. Waiting there were two of the best musicians I’ve found in a long while – armed with nothing but a guitar, a tambourine and a wooden box seat which doubled as a drum they swung straight into Waltzing Matilda (They didn’t speak a word of English so I’d sent them the words and music and they’d learnt it especially for the group). From there into Beatles, Rolling Stones and so on and so on and the party began.
About 1 hour into the trip the train manager, looking very concerned, pulled me to one side.
“Miss Lisa, we’ve run out of beer…..”
“What? We went through this, you promised me you’d triple your supplies just so this didn’t happen!!”
“We did Miss Lisa! But they’ve drunk everything!”
“Well, where can we get some more?”
She gave me a very odd look and at this point even I realized how stupid my last question was. We were chugging through the mountains, dark, quiet, not a house in sight.
“Are you telling me there’s not a single village between here and Cuzco?” I asked.
“Well no, there is one about 10 minutes up the track. There is a small station but we don’t stop there.” She replied.
“We do now”
15 minutes later some very surprised, sleepy villagers were roused from…..whatever they were doing, putting the llamas to bed or something……and relieved of every bottle of beer they possessed. They charged a very reasonable price (if the beer had been Moet & Chandon that is) and beerless but happy they waived our train off.
My group, still partying in the bar, greeted the beer with cheers and applause – keen to try the local brew.
Whatever was in it worked. I’d have given my left arm to have been standing on the platform in Cuzco when our train pulled in. The entire train was empty, except for 60 jumping, dancing, crazy Aussies bouncing around to the music in the bar car. Our coach drivers, waiting on the platform couldn't speak for laughing and I had to more or less physically hold them back from boarding the train to join in.
So reluctant was this incentive group to call it quits it took me 30 minutes and the combined efforts of the train manager, the train guides, the train driver and the chef to get them off the train. And the lady in the heels? She carried on dancing all the way to the coaches. Ah me, what a night........
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