Homeward Bound

After a flurry of shopping and a restorative brunch at InkaBar, it was time to begin my winding road back to San Francisco. First stop was the LAN Peru office where I caught the airport shuttle. Tourists seem to be unaware of the existence of the shuttle. I was told about it by my lovely saviour at LAN Peru who changed my tickets. Rather than paying S/50 for a cab to Julianaca, or taking the stinking bus for S/5, I caught the local version of the SuperShuttle for 10 soles, along with about 8 well-heeled Peruvians. By the way, in Spanish, Puruvians is Peruanos, which sounds almost exactly like marijuana during the course of a conversation. Disconcerting.

At the Julianaca airport, I had a good 2 hours before my flight (better safe than stuck in Peru until I could get new tickets), and nothing to do but spend money. I was reading Baudolino by Umberto Eco, and honestly, I don't know about the rest of the world, but a half an hour at a time is about all I can read of Baudolino before needing a break. So, I occupied myself buying coca candy, cookies, and tea to bring home with me.

Finally the plane arrived. In the course of the afternoon, the wind had picked up quite a bit. I now felt comfortable mentally referring to it as a gale. I found myself wondering if I would prefer to be stuck in Peru for an extra day or to risk dying in a crash. Oddly, I found that I was hoping that the plane would be cleared for takeoff despite the risk, rather than stay in Juliaca until the weather cleared. I guess that I was ready to come home. After an interesting takeoff, and a quite exciting first 10 minutes in the air (there were many Hail Marys being said), we evened out for the rest of the 25 minute flight to Arequipa. On the way, we passed over Misti Volcano which has a perfect, classic caldera. Gorgeous!!!

In Arequipa, we stayed on the plane while some passengers exited and others boarded. Then, it was on to Lima. In Lima, I had to pick up my backpack and recheck it for the flight to Los Angeles. That took about an hour, bringing me to 7pm. I still had almost 6 hours 'til my flight to LA. Hmm. What would Jesus do? Well, Christine decided that she'd never been to Lima and was unlikely to come back anytime soon. I took a gypsy cab into Miraflores. Yes, I know all about the dangers of gypsy cabs. But look! I'm alive and in possession of all my internal organs! The only problem was that the driver wouldn't believe that I didn't want to go interact with other foreigners on my last night in Peru and insisted on setting me down at LarcoMar, a shopping mall on the beach.

OK. It's a really nice mall, and actually is a big tourist destination, but really...my last night in the Peru, and I spent it at the mall. What a disappointment! Luckily, we had a great conversation on the way into the city. I learned all about how the Chileans have muscled into Lima, building all those big box stores and making tons of money. Also, I was informed that the reason that there are so many casinos is to launder the drug money, and that the casinos were all owned by Koreans, Palestinians and Jews. A fun fact was that Chinese food in Peru is called Chifa, and it is everywhere due to the influx of Hong Kong citizens immediately before the handover to China. Apparently, they were able to buy Peruvian passports for $10k US. Not bad. We passed the new Japanese embassy - an absolute bunker after that Shining Path hostage situation. We also passed a park right on the cliffs above the ocean that is dedicated to lovers. There's a huge statue of two people entwined, and a guard to prevent anyone other than couples from entering the park. What a lovely idea!

After eating my mozzarella sticks, sipping a Pisco sour (yuck!), savoring my Starbucks coffee, and vainly searching for an internet cafe, I loitered outside the mall waiting for my cabbie to come back to get me. As I waited, I became a little nervous about the prospect of being strangled and having my internal organs sold on the black market, and decided to pay the extra $5 US for a registered cab in order to make that possibility much less likely. Five dollars well spent. I'm sure that my gypsy cabby wasn't really planning to slice me open and steal my kidneys, but...

At the airport, I had a few hours to kill and wandered the airport, checked my email, bought water, went through security, had to ditch my water, bought new water, went to the gate to board the plane, had to ditch my water again and spent the entire 9 hour flight sans water and Airborne, supposedly to comply with USA security regulations. Argh! It's a conspiracy by the bottled water companies. I swear!

LAX 8am. Baggage Claim, Customs, change terminals, check in, change to earlier flight, breakfast. I felt halfway human after a quick wash in the restroom, and survived to sleepwalk onto my 10am flight that made it off the tarmac at 11:30. I was home by 1:30pm. Home, glorious home!

The lessons learned were:
1) don't ride a horse without a bit
2) remember that river guides aren't as careful in boats as they should be
3) when hiking, you don't need to do the whole trail - just put one foot in front of the other. repeat.
4) beware of octogenarian porters, they're feisty
5) if not dead broke, invest in 2 seats on the bus
6) if you pay 60 cents for breakfast, be prepared for a bit of indigestion
7) be firm as to destination with gypsy cabbies
8) stock up on Valium in countries that sell meds over the counter

Thanks for reading, I hope that you've enjoyed the story of my adventures in Peru!

Sillustani

After the tour to the Floating Islands, I stopped off at an Italian restaurant for lunch. There, I was entertained watching the interaction of a Peruvian-American family and their Peruvian cousins. The group was made up of American dad with teenage daughter & kindergarten-age daughter. There was a corresponding Peruvian teenage girl and kindergarten-age girl as well as a teenage boy with no American counterpoint. The American children did not speak Spanish and the Peruvians did not speak English. The little girls were a contrast with the Peruvian one making not a sound and the American one running around the table, standing on her chair, singing, and screaming for attention. The Peruvian teenage girl was hefty, dark and scornful. She talked on her cell phone throughout the meal. The teenage American daughter was lighter-skinned, slender and had braces. She was in an agony of embarrassment over her sister's antics and was clearly intimidated by her cousin. The young man just shoveled food in his mouth at a constant pace. Dad tried to start multiple conversations with his young relatives in extremely bad Spanish. The whole thing was like a case study in what happens to people once they are thrown into the US melting pot. It was fascinating.

After lunch, I rushed to a little tour company storefront and asked if I could jump on the tour to Sillustani, a pre-Incan necropolis about 45 minutes outside of Puno. Well, the microbus was literally just leaving and I caught it. Hah! Happy B-Day to me. We rode along to the site. I got to practice my Spanish with our guide, Clever (yes, that was his name), and a cool chick from Lima who was touring her country. Along the road out of Puno, there was quite a bit of graffiti. One of the most popular phrases was, "Down with the US!". Puno was definitely not quite as tourist-friendly as Cusco.

We passed traditional farm complex made up of a walled square containing multiple small stone buildings around an open courtyard area. The gate to these complexes were topped with two clay figures of bulls for luck and prosperity. We passed fields and animals and groups of people assembled for arcane reasons. The drive was pretty darn interesting. Then we actually arrived at our destination.

Sillustani was a site where Teohuanacan and Kolla people interred their deceased in stone towers. Originally, the bodies were mummified and deposited under ground, then over time, the people began building towers for the dead. Early towers were short and squat and held one mummy. Later towers were of fine stonework and held multiple bodies; an Inca-era tower was found containing 32 individual mummies. That was the lizard tower, called that for the small lizard carving on one of the stones. Other towers had other small carvings, the meaning of which have been lost to time. The towers were meant to represent the duality of male-female power, with the phallic tower filled with a dark, womb-like space containing a body mummified in fetal position. Each tower was completed with only a tiny crawlspace through which the person depositing the mummies could exit. This opening always faces east toward the rising sun, symbol of rebirth. Clever told us that in traditional villages, all bedroom windows also face east, a remnant of traditional beliefs.

The plateau containing the chulpas (funerary towers) of Sillustani is set on a promontory above a small lake. It has wonderful views of the hills & the afternoon light was perfect for photography. There was also the ubiqitous handicraft area with tables heaped with hats, gloves, and cheap jewelry. I couldn't leave without buying a necklace of an evil bunny gripping a piece of opalescent glass. Honestly, it looks like someone's 5th grade art project and is strung from a lanyard, but is the scariest looking bunny rabbit that I have ever seen. Irresistible!

We left the site at around 4:30 for the ride back to Puno. That was my last full day at leisure in Peru. In the morning, I'd have time for present-buying and breakfast, then begin 28 hours of travel back to San Francisco. This had been a wonderful experience and I felt physically confident (after that hike, I could do anything) and quite happily at peace with my entry into my 4th decade of life.

30 Morning = Uros Islands

In honor of my 30th b-day, I slept in 'til a luxurious 7:30am. After making use of my trickle of hot water, I ventured out to greet the day. First stop was an internet cafe where I found emails from ... my dad. Shame on the rest of you for forgetting my birthday! :)

I was distracted by running across a market along Tacna street and somehow forgot to grab breakfast before leaving the tourist area. There were so many people and so many strange food items being sold. There are over 300 varieties of potatoes commonly sold in Peru. I saw an alley in which about 12 different varieties were on offer. I never knew that our potatoes in the US are so boring. Let's trade the basic Idaho potato for the cool orange, red and pink striped one. Much more interesting. The ladies selling the 'taters didn't appear to appreciate being immortalized on my memory card and started miming throwing potatoes at me, while laughing hysterically. I booked it out of there.

I bought a banana for a snack at a street stand after verifying that it really wasn't a platano. It was great, but now I was left with a peel. I looked around and couldn't see any public trash receptacle, so I approached a little shop and asked the proprietor if she had anyplace I could deposit my trash. She bustled out, clearly marveling at the stupidity of foreigners and showed me the place to put my banana peel...duh! the gutter! :) After that, I roamed down to the port where I planned to catch a boat out to the floating islands. I was still hungry and was keeping an eye out for a restaurant. Lo and behold, there was a sign: Desayuno (breakfast) S/2 (60 cents). Sold! I ended up with french fries, eggs, and coffee; a slight case of indigestion; and great photos of the cook's 2 granddaughters playing with their lamb. They assured me that the lamb was not actually tonight's dinner, but I had my doubts.

After breakfast, I treated myself to a styling new sweater. It had been sunny and warm an hour earlier, but now the wind was picking up and the clouds coming in. I had an easy choice between being cold or spending $8US on a throwaway sweater. Well, it was my birthday after all.

The ticket out to the islands cost 10 soles with a 3 sole departure tax. Unfortunately, I was the first person on the boat and had to wait for at least another 7 people before the captain would set off. The first to arrive were two adolescent boys who were doing a school report on the Uros Islands. The boys looked about 10, until I mentally adjusted for Peruvian height standards. Then, it became clear that they were more around 14, which explained why one of the boys had quite a fondness for me. I was congratulating myself on how good I was with children until I remembered that this was just a short teenager who would be fond of anyone with breasts.

Next to arrive was a German family made up of a young volunteer at a Bolivian social work center; her parents; and her aunt. They all spoke both English and Spanish and were good companions. We were still short at least one person. This was remedied by the arrival of a French family of 5, one of whom was a 4 year old boy who joined us by trying to step out onto the algae surrounding the boat. That was the first of around a hundred rescue operations to keep that kid out of the lake. I think we should have just let him fall in. It was like fighting fate.

Off we went in our in-no-way-smog-compliant boat. I felt lightheaded from the emissions while sitting outside. Inside, it was impossible to breathe. So, we all crowded together in the outdoor, rear section of the boat. The ride out to the islands passes through about a mile of the bright green algae. It seriously looked just like astroturf. Amazing. This seems to be good algae though, because it was supporting a whole host of birds. These were the happiest birds I have ever seen in my life. Chirping, flitting, eating, hanging out in the reeds. Have you ever seen a brown duck with a black head and a chalk blue beak? I have! Lake Titicaca must be an ornithologists dream.

It seemed no time at all until we were puttering up to Puma Island. There, the headman gave us a lecture on the history of the Uros people, the lake and the islands. The Uros began their odd lifestyle in an effort to remain separated from the Incas on shore. They decided to live on islands in the lake. There must not have been any unoccupied islands at the time, and so they made themselves some. The islands are made up of 11 anchoring sections of reed root mast, over which about lake reeds are laid in cross patterns until they reach a thickness of 3-4 feet. The resulting island has a lifespan of about 30 years. It is a little hard to walk on, and small objects are easily lost, but it is the most comfortable surface I have ever laid down on. Culturally, the men make the islands and the reed boats and the women do everything else. Seems like a pretty standard division of labor.

Factoid: Lake Titicaca is in the shape of a puma eating a bunny rabbit.

After the lecture, we were given a chance to eat a little of the white portion of the reeds that make up their islands. This is mushy, fibrous, and bland and forms a major part of their diet. Then, two children sang songs in German, English, and French. The English song was Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star. After sitting through that, we got to explore the island and buy useless crap, otherwise known as artisan-made handicrafts. Yes, of course I bought some. They are all so cheap and brightly colored!

After we'd bought as much as we were going to buy, we were given the chance to buy a ride to the next island on a traditional reed boat. I was first in line. Very cool. The island we went to was Flamingo Island and was one that people actually live on. There was a school, a boat that served as a convenience store, a church and a main cooking area. Also, most reed huts had solar panels to power their TVs, etc. A group of women was gathering reeds having a great time. When I snapped a photo, they invited me to help cut reeds. I regretfully declined and joined the other tourists in the boat. We'd been there for about 2 hours and it was time to head back to Puno.

I had very low expectations for the floating islands, and it ended up being one of the highlights of my trip. Hearing Aymara (the language of the Uros) spoken, riding in a boat made of reeds, seeing a woman feed a flock of lake birds to fatten them for the pot, all of it was just amazing. I highly recommend a trip out to the Uros if you happen to be in the neighborhood.

On the road again

If you remember, I had set my alarm for 6:45 the night I got back from my trek. This wasn't merely a sadistic way to further torture my body. I had decided that it would be silly to sit around Cusco for 2 days, just waiting for my flight home. Instead, I was determined to see Lake Titicaca or bust!

I succeeded in waking up and getting myself checked out of the hostel and down to the Terminal Terrestre (bus station) in plenty of time for the 8am service to Puno. The counter girl at the San Luis bus line office tried to sell me a 50 sol ticket, with her friend egging her on to try to get me to pay 60. I answered, in Spanish, that I knew the price was 25 and I wouldn't pay any more. Something about me must have impressed her, 'cause she gave me the best seat in the bus, number 4. Peruvian buses are double decker, and on the top level, the very front of the bus has not only a window, but a floor to ceiling windscreen allowing fabulous views of the passing scenery and people. I had the right hand window seat, which was the perfect spot from which to observe the bit of Peru between Cusco and Puno.

Unfortunately, I was not to be as fortunate in my seatmate. I did not have the foresight to buy 2 seats in order to avoid this sort of situation. Instead, I got a Peruvian man who fully occupied not just his own seat, but a good 25% of mine as well, with him leaning into me so that our bodies were in full contact. Well, I thought for about 30 seconds, comparing the benefits of being a nice, soft, feminine girl, allowing myself to be made uncomfortable in order to spare a man's feelings; versus being assertive, claiming my internal feminazi and telling the guy where to get off. I decided that I would much rather offend a strange man I'd never see again than suffer in silence for the next 6 hours. I turned, glared, and when he asked if it bothered me that he was touching me, I said, "YES". Then, over the course of the next 8 hours (Peruvian bus times are fluid), I continued to guard my seat and fight off encroaching arms, legs, and butt cheeks. Victory was mine.

Arriving in Puno, I shared a cab to the city center with Emilia and Sinikka, who had taken the same bus, and that was the last I saw of them. They went to the swanky Royal Arms, and I was dropped near Hostal Monterrey. There, I bargained for the possession of a lovely private room overlooking the courtyard, with two twin beds (thus 2 sets of bedding for the freezing nights), an ensuite bathroom with hot water (I checked), and a television. All this for the price of 35 soles or about $11 US. Later, I figured out that I'd been given the bargain price for this room due to its great views. In other words, the great view that the proprietor hoped I'd provide. This became apparent when I looked down to the courtyard while closing the drapes and saw three disappointed male faces looking back at me.

I was checked in by 4:30pm and headed off in search of a LAN Peru airline office. I needed to try to change my tickets. After my one experience with Peruvian buses, I was determined that I would not be taking a night bus back to Cusco in order to catch my flight to Lima. Did I mention that there was no toilet on the bus? Instead, we stopped twice to use the facilities. The facilities were fields. The womens section was behind a little 3 foot tall stone wall in full view of the road. Also, I'd assumed that the bus would be stopping occasionally for gas, or at other places where it'd be possible to buy food. Luckily, I had a big bottle of water, chips and a sandwich with me, 'cause that was all I got for the trip. We did not stop.

Anyway, I found the LAN Peru office and met the best airline personnel ever. This wonderful woman found a way to switch my flight from Cusco to Juliaca (the closest city with an airport), for no additional charge. She spent 2 hours, during which I went and had dinner, on the phone and the computer working this miracle. She was my travel angel and I will always be grateful. After the miracle, I spent some time at the internet cafe and then went off to bed. It was very cold and I was very tired, even though it was only 9 o'clock and I'd been sitting in a bus all day. Well, I was tired until I switched on that handy TV.

Television! It was wonderful. I saw a weird movie called Magnolia, in which Tom Cruise is a sex guru. Then, at 12, just as I was ready to go to sleep, I flipped a channel and found La Femme Nikita!!! It was my birthday present from the universe. Yup, July 7, 2007 (my 30th b-day) started with an episode of La Femme Nikita that I'd never seen. I'd forgotten how much I used to love that show. Happy Birthday to me, Feliz cumpleanos a mi.

Machu PiCchu - Journey's End

3:30 in the morning. Cold, excited, exhausted and exhilarated. We each got one pancake and a cup of coffee or tea for breakfast.. The bathrooms up at the restaurant didn't open 'til 4am, so we communed with nature. We lost sleep, packed frantically, and pissed in the bushes by flashlight all to make absolutely sure that we were the first ones to arrive at the checkpoint, a 15 minute hike down the trail, that didn't open until 5:30pm. A little anticlimactic after all of that to just sit around for the next hour and a half 'til the guy manning the booth showed up to stamp our passports and let us through the gate.

The next 45 minutes or so were a race down the trail. We were determined that no one would pass us. Those with walking sticks were detailed to use them to block anyone trying to pass us on the way to the Sun Gate. The Sun Gate was the original, traditional entrance to Machu Picchu. The first group through gets a chance to see Machu Picchu without dozens of other people all blocking the view. We booked it. The trail wasn't hard, just a constant up and down undulation. That is, until the final staircase. Each stair was about 5 inches wide and 20 inches tall. It was STEEP. We climbed using our hands. Then, we were there. At the top. At the sun gate. Ahead of us was Machu Picchu, the goal of the last 3 sweaty, painful days. There wasn't any music, but it was still a movie moment. The whole intense experience was made even more so by Richard's proposal to Annette, which was a surprise to everyone. He asked her to climb up to the highest point, brought Chris along to take photos, got down on one knee and produced a ring inscribed "Forever". Sniffle. It was extremely romantic.

Everyone congratulated the engaged couple and then began walking the last hour or so to Machu Picchu. We arrived and took our photos from up near the hut. This is the spot to stand to get the classic shot with Winaypicchu in the background. There, Sol began the final tour. We were finally told why it was very important to pronounce the second 'c' in Picchu. Apparently, in Quechua Machu means old; Winay means young; Picchu means place/mountain; and Pichu means penis. All of the mochileros (backpackers) wandering around enthusing about Machupichu are actually saying how much they love old penis. Hah! No wonder people think gringos are crazy!

We had a half hour lecture about Hiram Bingham and the rediscovery of Machu Picchu by his expedition from Yale University. He seems to have been the first person to have thought to ask the local people if they knew anything about any old Inca remains. They scratched their heads and said, "you mean like that big city in the mountains?" The site is thought to have been a royal retreat and religious center. The quality of the stonework and the many fine details definitely show that Machu Picchu was something special.

After the intro to our tour, we went down to the tourist center to use the facilities and grab a snack. We also came across a big bank of computers hooked up to the internet and signs saying, "Votemos por Machu Picchu". It was the last day to vote for the new Seven Wonders of the World and all of Peru was committed to making the list. I cast my vote there at Machu Picchu. Well, and I checked my email...since I happened to be online anyway.

Back to the tour, we learned about the diamond shaped rock with the edges pointing to the cardinal directions. There was a sundial that actually told the times of the year - think harvest instead of noon. There was a rock carved to mimic the shape of the mountain range in the distance behind it. There was a set of three steps (3 being the sacred number) that cast a perfect shadow during winter solstice. There was a temple of the sun above the temple of the earth. There was a condor in the ground and rock. My personal fave was the set of two reflective pools to stargaze by. Overall, it is a collection of the strange, the mysterious, and the haunting. We'll never know what it all meant and was meant for, because there are no records and the site was lost to history for a good 300 years, but there is enough at Machu Picchu to amaze and inspire generations of people far into the future.

My ankles had suffered from repeated twists and I didn't feel up to climbing Winay Picchu, so I lounged in the shade of a wall and watched the people. I overheard great bits of conversation, like the bit about the enormously fat man climbing Winay Picchu, completely blocking the narrow trail, causing a serious pileup. When asked to please move to the side and let the faster hikers through, he turned and growled, "Get Off My Ass!!!" Classic. There was also an ugly altercation between a young woman and her grandmother. I'm ashamed to say they were American and the young witch was heard by half the site when she screamed at her grandma, "You just see how you like it when I leave you here with no bus ticket and no money! I'm sick of you!" Charming. On the positive side, there was a lovely older Englishman explaining to a polite American family that he was here at Machu Picchu on the geriatric tour. I also had the slightest glimpse of a young Quechua girl giggling and hiding from her nursemaid 600 years ago.

After people watching and dreaming, I took the tourist bus into Aguas Calientes and walked upriver to the hot springs. The springs were a little disappointing, not being quite hot, but the river was amazing and another chance to be immersed in water was welcome. Then I checked Google news at an internet cafe to make sure that the world hadn't ended while I was out of contact, and met up with the group at a pizza place near the railroad station. We ate, drank and were merry and then we boarded the train to Ollantaytambo. There was a bit of a mix-up with the seats and one seat was seperated from the rest of the group. Though it wasn't my seat, I was the better person and volunteered, as the one single traveler to seperate from the herd. I ended up sharing a set of four seats with an amazing Polish woman who works as a Polish television editor and two American film students finishing their years abroad in Argentina and taking a holiday before heading back to the States. We had a great conversation and the hour and a half to Ollantaytambo passed like nothing.

We were met by a microbus that took us back to Cusco at rapid speed. The best part of Peruvian driving is the way that they speed up when approaching a blind turn and honk to let anyone on the other side of the turn know that they are coming. Despite our suicidal driver, we made it safely to Cusco and it was time to break up the family. There were hugs and handshakes all around as well as exchanged email addresses and promises to share photos. Chris, Julie, Richard, Annette and I all went off for a falafel wrap at the Israeli shwarma shop in Gringo Alley. Then it was off to my hostel for a shower, the internet and Skype to call home, and then bed. I grabbed my bag from the storage room, threw out the crappy day pack
and stuffed everything in my bag. I set my alarm for 6:45 and went off to dreamland. And that was my trek along the Inca trail to Machu Picchu.

Questions: Why did Xine set her alarm for 6:45? What will she do on her birthday? Won't somebody tell me? Stay tuned for the further adventures of Christine in Peru.

Day 3 - Winaywayna, Rum & Dancing

After the best night's sleep I'd had since coming to Peru, I bounced out of my tent raring to go for Day 3. Despues de another wonderful breakfast, we all made quick trips to the squat toilets and off we went. Being in the cloud forest made everyone a little happier. The air was moist, the scenery was much more interesting, and it felt good to be stretching sore muscles. I actually finally got the hang of walking down the mountain. The trick of it is to keep going, moving to a stair or rock with each step. I had been doing a step-together, step-together movement which took a long time, was quite jarring, and made me feel less rather than more secure on the precarious trail. Now that I had the hang of walking downhill, I didn't lose ground on the declines, and easily kept my spot near the head of the group. Best of all, we only had a short day of hiking and would be having lunch at our camp site. We hiked from around 7:30 'til 1pm and made a group decision to skip visiting Puyupatamarca and take the short cut straight to camp.

After the biggest lunch I've ever had in my life, we went off to see the final Incan site on the trail before Machu Picchu, Winaywayna. Amazing. In the side of an almost vertical mountain peak, those crazy Incas carved a huge concave amphitheater of terraces. There was a temple above, residential areas below, an amazing (still working) fountain system throughout, and terraces in a conical structure. The views were of waterfalls and the cloudforest. The whole place felt like a playground to us. I started the trend of taking pictures while hanging from odd bits of building, and then we were all giggling and exploring.

After thoroughly going through Winaywayna (Forever Young in Quechua), it was straight to the showers for me. Hot showers. Well, barely tepid actually, and coming as a drip that couldn't quite rinse shampoo out of my hair, but what the hell! I was clean! Hallelujah!!! Anyone who has ever been to Burning Man or for some other reason not bathed for 3 days, while sweating, in an extremely dusty environment, will appreciate my feelings. I was ecstatic. Especially as, a couple of hours earlier, Chris had taken a photo of me collapsed on the side of the trail waiting for the rest of the family to assemble. I had just commented on how disgusting I looked. He said that he was trying to zoom in for a close-up of me, but couldn't get the zoom on my camera to work. Perfect! I said, "Hah! Even my camera doesn't want to look too closely at me right now!" and laughed. That's when he snapped the photo. It felt great to no longer be revolting enough to disgust my own camera.

After the big shower, I bought a rum and coke at the bar. Oh, did I not mention the bar? At the last campsite, there's a restaurant with a huge terrace looking out over the valley, a bar, showers, a place to rent towels, a shop to buy little things like shampoo, and even pool tables. Civilization! Well, then I went back to camp intending to do a little Pilates, or something semi-productive. Instead, honeymooner Jason broke out a bottle of rum he'd been carrying for the last 3 days. The women all sat in our tents, with the guys standing around being manly in a huddle. We whiled away the afternoon in a tipsy haze.

After dinner, it was time for us to tip the porters. Apparently, this was intended to be something more elaborate than just handing over some cash. The tipping portion was easily decided. We determined that we had all had a great time and we didn't want to end the trip by arguing about how much each person should tip. Instead, we got two bags - one for the porters and one for the guides. The bags were passed around with each person putting in what he or she felt comfortable with and no one knew who put in what or even what the final amount was. That was the best tipping experience I've ever had. That also turned out to be the easy part. Next, we were supposed to come up with a song to sing to the porters, and were told that they would also sing to us.

All of those years at church camp finally paid off. I knew the words to dozens of campy songs. Unfortunately, no one else did and I was decidedly unenthusiastic about the idea of singing alone. For a short time it looked like "If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands.." was the winner, but in the end one person gave money and a speech to the porters and one person gave money and a speech to the guides. The guides told us what items each of them had carried, we then listed what we had carried. The contrast was interesting. A porter would say, "I carried 5 tents and a propane tank," then a trekker would say, "I carried my clothes." After that, the porters sang us a song about Sacsayhuaman and Emilia & I had the great joy of being dragged up by porters and getting to dance with them. Yippee! The excitement of being the only girls without menfolk present. Also, we were the only blondes. Hmmm...

The night was over, and we'd all voted to try to be first to the Sun Gate in the morning. This meant a 3:30am wakeup call. So it was off to bed and an attempt to sleep knowing that tomorrow we would be in Machu Picchu.

Day 2 - Mugging; Sayacmarca; & Wet Clothes

After a yummy breakfast and much commiseration over the cold, los ratones (mice...the tour company was United Mice...at least we weren´t los ratones unidos) all assembled to present the porters with coca leaves to help them carry 25 kilos apiece over the next few days, up and down mountains. We had each been encouraged to buy some extra coca for the porters. I'd bought 4 bags of leaves and kept one for myself. I gave the other 3 bags to the head porter to redistribute to his guys. We all introduced ourselves, and Sol reiterated that we were all part of the United Mice family. She would alternate calling us together with the terms ratones and familia. For example, "vamos ratones!" y "OK, familia?" Cute.

Well, that little gathering did not last nearly long enough and by 7:30, we were beginning the final 400 meters of climbing. The last section of trail was even steeper than the previous 700m. Jesus wept. Try climbing that peak while carrying an unbalanced pack on very little sleep in the freezing cold after only one cup of coffee! Yikes! Well, I decided not to compete for the lead that morning, and hung back comfortably in 5th position, then ended up dropping back to 7th. Ouch. I was still wearing my thermals, 'cause it was soooo cold.

After an hour and a half of hiking, once the sun rose over the peaks, this changed to become unbearably hot. I suffered for around a half an hour looking for a convenient bush to duck behind and change clothes. No such luck. There was a 1000 meter drop off on one side and a vertical wall on the other. Finally, I decided to think of my underwear as a bathing suit and ducked behind a curve in the trail to do a lightning fast quick change. Now, I can add to my collection of life experiences exposing myself on the side of a mountain in Peru. The apus (mountains in Quechua) punished me for my disrespect by first breaking my sunglasses (OK, I stepped on them) and then getting a 65 year old porter to mug me. Yes, I was mugged by a porter.

Here's what happened. Coca stinks. The smell turns my stomach a little. Carrying 4 bags of coca in my black backpack under strong sun had encouraged the coca to release its aroma. All of my clothes stank of it. Therefore, this morning, I'd cleverly tied my one remaining bag to the outside of my pack. Well, this was apparently too much temptation for one porter. While I was putting on my shoes, he came around the trail, saw my coca, and started pulling on my arm begging for coca in Quechua. I told him, "no, I'm sorry, it's for me". He wasn't going to let go of me until I'd given him coca. Finally, after about 2 minutes during which the only escape would have been to hit an old man, I poured out half my bag into his shirt and booked it out of there before he demanded the other half.

I made the climb for the next 40 minutes feeling worse and worse. Of course, as soon as I'd given away half of my coca, I started feeling a bit of altitude sickness. My head was pounding and I felt queasy and lightheaded at the same time. Fun condition to climb a mountain. Well, even awful things come to an end. I made it to the top of the pass. Of course, pass is a bit of a misnomer. The "pass" was 4500m, with the "apus" on either side being just about 20m higher. Wow, some pass. I have to say that at that point I was comparing the Inka people unfavorably to the Romans. Straight roads really are easier to march on. At the top, after chewing some coca and drinking some rum, we recovered enough to look around and appreciate the breathtaking nature of the mountains. These are young mountains compared to those in the north. They are much more vertical than diagonal in rise. Truly inspiring. I would heavily advise against the use of any hallucinogenic drug in the mountains of Peru. Sober, I still felt the occasional urge to try flying.

After the requisite photo op, we had the great joy of starting down. We climbed down about 500m into a valley. It was beautiful and a nice change from moving my feet in an upward direction for most of the previous day. Unfortunately, I discovered that my ankles, despite wearing braces, have a tendency to twist under me if I don't pay close attention to where I'm going. So I had to come to a complete stop to admire the scenery. I highly recommend wearing boots rather than trainers when hiking the Inca trail. The whole thing is made up of rocks about a foot across that do not quite lie flat and that are covered in loose, slippery gravel. A bit precarious, especially with a long drop to one side.

At around 11:30, we were all assembled at the 2nd lunch site. Another chance to visit squat toilets and to stuff ourselves with wonderful food, after which we had no choice but to have a short siesta. Then it was time to climb again, though this time a mere 300m or so. Halfway up was the site Runkuraqay, a circular site that was discovered in 1915 by Hiram Bingham, four years after he discovered Machu Picchu. It is thought to have been a stopping point for pilgrims making the trek to Machu Picchu. It was easy to imagine a horde of older people and young families (similar to Muslims making the Hajj) all making their slow way up the trail to Runkuraqay. We had a short lecture there and then climbed the rest of the way to the next pass. Yosip had the lead for this section and blessedly climbs a bit slower than Sol.

When we came down from that second pass, we had another descent (about 300m) ahead of us. I only fell with twisted ankles 3 times going down that stretch. Ouch. At around 3:30, we were at Sayacmarca (Inaccessible Place), my favorite site. It is a fort situated on a tiny jut of a cliff, with no access except for an EXTREMELY steep staircase. It looks out over about 10 mountains and valleys, and is amazing. I explored a bit rather than resting while waiting for the whole group to assemble. This was a lucky choice because it meant that after the lecture, while everyone else explored, I had a head start on the 40 minute home stretch to camp. That 40 minutes was my favorite part of the trail. We had just entered the cloud forest, and the air was moist and warm. There were flowers and lush greenery. Instead of seeing straight down to the valley floor, I saw bushes of greenery to the side, giving me an illusion of safety. There were little streamlets, and log bridges over sections of the trail that had fallen away. It was definitely a movie scene.

Unfortunately, I was driven insane by endorphins and decided that I had enough daylight to wash my set of hiking clothes and have them at least partially dry before sundown. Sundown was 40 minutes away. I had a great time washing my clothes, face, arms, and legs and doing a wet wipe swipe to everything else. I placed my wet things over my tent in the sun and settled into my tent for a little rest. It was great. Then the sun went down and my things were still dripping. Hmmm. Well, we had tea and then dinner and had fun talking and playing silly games. Everyone agreed that today had been much much easier than the first day and as a result, we were feeling optimistic, even euphoric about the rest of the trek. Even so, we were all off to bed by 8:30 or so, and fell asleep to the sound of another group having a guitar-led singalong. Oh, there were 2 other groups with us at the first and second camp sites. We didn't interact much, but they were the same people we passed and were passed by throughout each day. I noticed that none of the SAS people were carrying their own packs. Grrrr.

Anyhoo, I wrote in my journal and fell into a delightful sleep. What's that? What about my wet hiking clothes? I had the brilliant idea that my body heat would dry them, so I put them in my sleeping bag with me. What? That doesn't sound brilliant to you? Well, it didn't seem so smart to me either when I woke up at 3 in the morning with the clothes still wet and my sleeping bag and sleep clothes wet, too! At least it was much warmer, only around 30 or so. I would have frozen if I'd tried that stunt the first night, but as it was, I removed my wet things, put on a hat, and went back to sleep. Dreamland was home for the next 3 hours 'til the usual 6am wake up call and cafe en cama. Luxury. There should be someone to bring me coffee in bed every morning!