After a tiring, yet rewarding hike through the breathtaking Incan ruins of Pisac, all of us in the group hoped for a relaxing night in the Sacred Valley. Upon checking into the Hotel Shanti, we noticed that the hotel’s operations were a bit different from the typical hospitality experience in major cities. Since the hotel staff believed that a request for a double room meant one bed for two people, it left us with extra time to observe how the hotel was run. While I was reading a book to fill the time when my room was being cleaned, a tall man asked me “which group are you?” in English. Because my brain has been hardwired to exclusively speak Spanish this trip, I responded: “somos un grupo de alumnos que está viajando a Perú.” With a blank stare and raised eyebrows, the man dismissively shrugged, obviously showing that he didn’t understand Spanish. What made this encounter particularly confusing was that I was unsure whether the man was a staff member or another guest. At check-in, the employees behind the desk didn’t wear uniforms or workplace clothes, blurring the lines between hotel guest and employee. The man and his group of about 15, mostly men with a few women, spoke another language that I could not decipher. After asking around, I realized that they were speaking Hebrew, and that the group consists of Israeli nationals.
Although I knew that the backpackers were Israeli, the question of whether they were staff members or hikers still remained. The answer is that they were both. Because the people who checked us in were staying in rooms, it seems like the group of backpackers were given discounted rates for lodging in exchange for their labor. I, as well as many others on the trip, wanted to know why there was such a significant Jewish presence in a small Peruvian town with a population of around 11,000 that has only decreased since COVID. Per reporting from The Times of Israel, the city of Pisac has become a significant stopover on the “Hummus Trail,” which is a journey undertaken by young Israelis after concluding their military service. Many of which decide to stay in Pisac for long periods of time, and the economy has adjusted to that. Interestingly, new arrivals have opened restaurants that serve traditional Jewish dishes, and Peruvians of Spanish descent have modified their menus to include Hebrew translations. Consequently, Pisac is a hub for a budding Israeli community that comes for a variety of reasons. Apart from a relaxing retreat following their military service, Israeli nationals come to Pisac for vacation, and perhaps most shockingly, to “get closer to God” through consuming local psychedelics. Some native plants such as a cactus with psychedelic effects are used by newcomers to encounter God through spirituality, and many Israelis attest to its effects. That being said, many local Peruvians and some Israeli immigrants have spoken out against the use of psychedelics.
Ultimately, despite its rural location, Pisac is home to a burgeoning population of Israeli immigrants who have already significantly impacted the local economy and culture. As the war with Hamas rages on, many Israelis have departed Perú in order to provide military assistance, showing that the size of the Israeli community in Pisac is nowhere close to what it would be if not for the ongoing war. While I was only in Pisac for one night, I gained tremendous insight as to how current events and transnational communication impact the culture in a particular region.
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