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!

Day 1 - Coca; Dead Woman's Pass; The Cold

The great Inka hike began on a beautiful sunny morning around 8am. The temperature was a nice 65 or so in the sun, then cool in the shade. We started off on a stretch of what is known as Peruvian flat. This means, ascent and then descent. There's no such thing as flat on the Inka trail, just gentler gradients of incline and decline. On the whole, we were on an upward trend, but it was broken with enough short stretches of decline that we didn't feel too out of breath. At the same time there was enough climb involved to let us feel that we were really hiking.

We stopped around 10 or so at a wooden stand set up to sell water and gatorade. It also happened to adjoin the vendors home and livestock. There was a very friendly pig snuffling around saying hello, as well as assorted goats, etc. FYI, pigs actually are dirty animals, at least in Peru. Do not let one snuffle you unless you want black pig snot and mud left behind from where his snout was. After a 15 minute rest break, we were back on the trail. Now, it was a bit steeper, but still quite manageable. We stopped again at around 11:30 at the last spot to buy liquid. The woman running the stands was charging a reasonable 300% markup from Cusco prices, and I splurged on another bottle of water. This was also the first of Sol's little taste sensation surprises. We got to try chicha, or Inka beer. This is fermented maize beer. Think sour, moldy corn juice. Yum. It makes me wonder how beer tastes to those who grow up drinking chicha. Like moldy bread juice maybe?

We had one more stop at a vantage point looking out over Llactapata, an Inca site that is thought to have been a granary to supply the area. Gorgeous huge site, with panoramic views of the dramatic mountain peaks. Probably one of the most beautiful, stunning spots I've ever been. Sol gave us a lecture on the site, and then taught us how to chew coca leaves. You need to take three leaves, because 3 was a sacred number to the Inca representing the condor, puma and snake which represent the soul, the present life, and the after life in which we are reincarnated into the mountains. Then add a bit of the ash catalyst, roll into a tube, strip off the little twiggy bits, and pop into one side of the mouth. Bite down every so often, but do not chew. Let the juice run down your throat, but don't swallow the leaves, spit them out after they turn to mush. The coca was used by pre-Incan societies and is considered sacred due to its power of conferring strength and a lack of appetite to those who chew it. The porters are prodigious coca chewers. Apparently there are 13 active elements only one of which is the one from which cocaine is derived. Coca is also a source of protein. Also, coca was found at the pyramids in Giza, indicating possible early contact between the continents. Odd. After that bit of education, we kept on going until about 1pm when we hit our lunch spot. At this point we all felt that we'd earned our lunch, especially since breakfast was at 5:30am.

Supposedly, in high altitude, one's metabolism slows and therefore you shouldn't be as hungry. Hah! I don't know about "most people", but I was starving at every meal. Luckily our cook rocked us out. Breakfast was usually porridge, pancakes, omelettes, and bread. Lunch and dinner would start with a refrescado rehydrating juice, then soup, and about 5 main dishes, with at least 3 being vegetarian. If there was a special meat dish, like pizza on the 3rd night, or stuffed peppers on the 2nd day's lunch, the cook always made a veg version for me. We'd finish off with hot drinks. Yum!

After lunch was an hour siesta and visit to the outhouse, then hell began. Sol told us that we would be hiking 700 meters switchbacking on a 500 year old stone staircase up Dead Woman's Pass over about 2.5 kilometers. Now, maybe it is my American unfamiliarity with the metric system, but when she added that it was fairly steep but not too bad, I believed her. We started off with Julie and Chris in the lead and me right behind them. Kristina and Jason had fallen back because Kristina unfortunately sprained her ankle before lunch. Bad luck. The honeymoon couple were taking their time and enjoying the scenery without pushing the pace too much. Richard and Annette were behind me with Emilia and Sinikka right behind them. Away we went!

Let me tell you, hiking 700 meters up a mountain is quite taxing. It didn't help that I did the mental math and decided for some reason that 2450 steps ought to do it. I had mistakenly calculated based on the 700 m rather than the 2.5 kilometers. Ack! I had passed Julie and Chris when they stopped to switch packs, but after putting each foot in front and above the other about 2700 times, my spirit was broken and Julie went roaring past me. It took another 30 minutes or so to reach camp. Chris and I came staggering in together at around 4. Luckily, we arrived just as the weather shifted from 70 to 45 in the space of about 5 minutes. We were sweaty from the hike, and the camp site was in a valley that acted as a wind tunnel. Wet clothes get awfully useless when a cold wind blows through them. By the time the sun went down, it had dropped to about 20 degrees. Unfortunately, some of the group didn't arrive 'til after sundown, which in Peru at this time of year is around 5pm. Brrr!

Of course, those of us who staggered in earlier didn't get off all that easily. The cold was one thing, being attacked by a huge playful dog was another. I had bundled up and made straight for the bathrooms after arriving at camp. On the path, I met up with a lovely, huge, big-red-tic covered dog. I made the mistake of saying, "hi, doggy," and that was its signal to attack. He leapt for me and grabbed hold of my polar fleece pants. That was one thing, and I was still not too upset, just told him in English then in Spanish to let go. Then he shifted his grip to my ankle and bit down. This was not so funny. About 10 feet away, one of the porters was laughing his head off. I asked if it was his dog, and he said no, I responded that this was not funny and to please help me. He came over and dragged the dog off of me. At that point, I ran for the bathroom, and then took the long way back to camp to avoid my furry friend.
After that excitement, I took a little nap 'til dinner. Luckily I did, 'cause that was pretty much the only sleep I got all night.

We all showed up for dinner dressed in everything we'd brought with us. It was literally freezing. We ate, bitched a bit about the cold, discussed the lovely route up Dead Woman's Path, learned that we had another 400 meters to go in the morning and that we'd have a 6am wake-up call. It was only around 7pm, but we all went straight to bed. I'd asked Sol if there were any extra blankets, because I wasn't sharing a tent with anyone, and thus would need to rely on my own body heat to get me through the night. She said that there weren't any blankets, but that I could share my tent with a porter if I'd like to. Instead, we compromised on a hot water bottle.

That was the most physically uncomfortable night I've ever spent in my life. It was below 0 and the wind was cutting through the tents. I wore long undies, polar fleece top and bottom, a t-shirt, 2 pairs of socks (one polar fleece), 2 pr gloves, a scarf and a hat, and got completely inside my mummy bag with the neck cinch tied off over my head and my scarf covering the 2 inch opening. I also had a hot water bottle. It was still too cold to sleep. It had seemed luxurious to have 11 hours to sleep, even though we were all exhausted from the hike. Well, I got about 3 hours of sleep over the course of that 11 hour period, comprised of short 10 minute naps before the cold woke me again. Also, it turns out that I'm slightly claustrophobic. Every once in awhile, I'd panic that I couldn't breathe and start flailing around trying to get the sleeping bag open. Cold fingers with two layers of wool have a hard time manipulating a cinch release. At least the resulting shot of adrenaline would warm me up a bit. At around 1:30am, I found myself wishing that I was sharing space with not one but two porters, one for each side. :)

Finally, it was morning, Yosip came by with a hot cup of coffee, and helped me unzip my bag when I got stuck with my head and one arm out and the rest of me still stuck in the bag. I then had half an hour to get myself ready for Day 2.

Intro - The cast of characters & getting started

Apparently, I was lucky enough to join the love-trek. My fellow sufferers on our Classic Inca Trail 4-day hike included 4 couples! Admittedly, there was also a Finnish mother-daughter pair, but mostly, it was a love fest. The cast of character were:

Solay & Yosip - our fabulous guides
Emelia & Sinikka - mom and daughter from Finland
Julie & Chris - couple from New Zealand
Annette & Richard- couple from Holland (with a surprise twist on day four)
Jennifer & Jason - the honeymooners from Pasadena
Kristina & Jason - the couple from Marina del Rey and Manhattan Beach respectively
Christine - the lone gal out. As Solay asked the first day, don´t I have a boyfriend, friends, or family? No one?
and 14 porters to carry food, tents, and the basic necessities of life.

note: apparently the name Jason and variations on Chris were very popular for around 5 years or so.

The first day, the micobus actually showed up at my hostel around 4:35ish, after I´d been ready and shivering for a half an hour. Oh well, I was so excited that I actually didn´t mind. We all spread out through the van and snoozed a bit as we left Cusco. Then, we started picking up porters. Over the next hour or so that it took to get to Ollantaytambo, we crammed 14 porters into about 8 seats. Most of them are farmers in their real lives and work as porters to earn a little extra money when they have time.

We were all assembled and awake by the time we got to Ollantaytambo. We had breakfast at a little local place that was actually open at 5:30 in the morning. Then, after everyone said a final goodbye to modern toilet facilities, we were off! Those who wanted them bought walking sticks from the local entrepreneurs. We decided that those sticks had began life as broomsticks and gained a little carving and bright cloth. Richard was very proud of bargaining his stick down from 15 to 12 soles... that is, he was very proud of this until Chris got his stick for 8 soles. :)

We also had a chance to buy hats, gloves, scarves, straps (for the sleeping bag & mat), water, gatorade etc. I bought one strap to go with my pathetic day pack that I´d been so proud of buying. Whoops. It turns out that the MexSport line of bags has no place to strap on camping equipment, nor is it designed to carry more than five pounds or so. My bag and mat ended up flopping down my back, throwing me off balance. I actually ended up hiking like that for a day and a half before throwing pride to the wind and begging for help from my fellow trekkers. With the assistance of Richard´s string, Julie and Chris were able to hobble together something that at least wasn´t in danger of throwing me off the trail when it suddenly flopped from the right to the left side with no warning. Oh, and one shoulder strap broke the first morning and the second broke on the third day. I might write MexSport a letter, though for 30 soles, it´s hard to be too upset.

After putting ourselves together, we started off into the wilderness! Of course, it was only about 20 feet to the passport control booth, so the first enthusiastic start was a little anticlimactic, but once we were though the booth and had crossed the bridge over the Urubamba, we were on our way!

Tune in next post for the exciting adventures of the Love-Trek...

Preparations

8am Sunday morning. 20 hours until my trek. I had been vaguely thinking about doing some sort of sporty thing, such as rappelling, or as they call it in the UK, abseiling. Funny. Then, as I drank my coffee and used the hotel´s free internet, I realized...crap!!! I´m leaving for a four-day hike in less than 20 hours - I´m not ready! I still had to buy a better sun hat, buy a day pack, ´cause I´d decided not to carry my regular pack (too much weight). Plus, I needed to pack my so far non-existent day pack and my real pack; store the real pack in the storage room at the hostel; pay my hostel bill; buy snacks at the supermercado; update my blog; take a last steaming hot shower in anticipation of being filthy for four days; and attend my trek group meeting at 6pm. I suppose that superwoman could do all that in just a couple of hours in the evening, but I seem to have been exposed to cryptonite and my superpowers are currently limited to leaping tall buildings in a single bound, which is actually not at all helpful when prepping for a four day hike.
First, I stopped by the supermarket and bought some dried fruit, nuts, and gatorade. After a quick stop at the internet cafe, I was off to the big covered market that I had accidentally discovered on my first, jet-lagged day. I found my hat in the second stall, and my backpack in a bazaar right outside the market. I also found a few other small items that simply had to come home with me, though I did resist the green alpaca tunic with fringe. The crowds were amazing. I had forgotten that it was Sunday in a Catholic country. A good half of the shops were closed and the people were out buying brass polish, hair curlers, fake tattoos, and yummy snacks. It was the type of crowd that is fun to be in. These were all regular people doing their own things, not giving two hoots about the giant blond woman walking around (I can´t get used to being a foot taller than most people here). It was a blast.
Feeling virtuous and productive, I decided to reward myself by going over to gringo alley for lunch. I ended up at a pretty good Mexican restaurant that served amazing vegetarian enchiladas. Of course, that was after I sent back the ones filled with meat that they tried to pass as enchiladas verduras. Harrumph! I sat at a communal table with a nice Irish guy who had just come from Puno, on Lake Titicaca. His description of the floating islands was pretty amazing. I´m thinking that I might need to fly out to Puno for my b-day after the big trek. We´ll see how I feel after getting back from Machu Picchu, but it just feels like such a shame not to see the lake when it´s right in the neighborhood. Or, there´s always rappelling after all!
After lunch, I went back to the hostel and did my packing in a minimal 2 hours. :) Then I did an hour workout, with frequent stops to gasp for oxygen, to the amazement of the group of hostel habitues who were lounging on towels in the grass drinking beer and tanning. My moral superiority established, I took a wonderful shower and did some more packing, then was off for pizza and the meeting.
The meeting was at United Mice and consisted of a guy (not our guide) describing the route that we were to take. There are 4 sets of couples and 1 mother-daughter pair, so I get a tent to myself, woo hoo! Of course, this makes it likely that I will also be walking the trail without anyone to talk to, since it´s standard to go two-by-two. Oh well, I´ll practice my Spanglish with the porters. The whole thing was a little boring and we all bolted as soon as the guy stopped talking. There was a round of "see ya tomorrows" and we scattered for our last night of comfort and non-aching bodies.
Now, I´ve paid my tab at the hostel, my bags are packed with my main pack stored away in the locker. Everything is ready except me. I´m still a little nervous about the prospect of a four-day hike. The physical part should be fine since I´ve had 4 days to acclimatize and have really pushed myself. It´s the being stuck away from civilization for four days that will be interesting. Also, there´s always the chance of altitude sickness irregardless of the fact that I´m in decent shape. Most of all, I´m nervous about oversleeping and missing my 4am pickup tomorrow morning.
Well, wish me luck! I´ll have lots to share when I get back to Cusco on July 5th.

Rafting

Saturday morning was rafting day! I was supposed to be at the meeting point at 9am. I got up at 8 and wandered out for breakfast. Well, there was no breakfast, instead there was a bar full of shit-faced hostel staff and guests. The party from the night before was still raging. Ahhh, to be 21 and able to drink for a solid 12 hours. Denied my complimentary rolls and coffee, I was forced to venture out to an amazing cafe, Yuca Mama. I had a darling table on a Romeo and Juliet-style balcony overlooking the Plaza de Armas.
I ordered and received a perfect English breakfast of scrambled eggs, baked beans, fried tomatoes with onion and hand made miniature bread loaves, with a clay carafe of orange juice and adorable little butter and marmalade dishes. Everything was beautiful, there was a whole square of people out and about to entertain me, and the Catedral across the square has a clock that let me relax in the knowledge that I had time to spare. I wish every day could start like that!
At the meeting point for the rafting trip, I met up with an English couple, a couple from San Luis Obispo, and 2 girls (possibly a couple) from Athens, Georgia. Everyone was in a great mood and we passed the 2 hour drive out to the launch site by swapping travel stories. We didn´t go so far as to sing, but it was a close call. The best story was told by the San Luis couple. They had already done their Machu Picchu trek. Apparently, they waited until they got here before booking anything, not realizing that all the reputable companies sell out months in advance. Well, they found a company that offered a 4-day trek that would end up in Machu Picchu. It wasn´t the Inca trail, but on the plus side, it was only $180/person (mine cost $400) and the first day was supposed to include 5 hours of down-hill mountain biking. Sounds great! But then...calamity struck! There had been a landslide on the trail a day earlier, and so they weren´t able to do the mountain biking. Instead of turning around and trying to take a bus around the slide, they decided to be macho and climb over it. Well, after about 9 hours, they were lost. They had no water and people were drinking from the streams without purification tablets, hello Guardia! They ended up finding the trail again after another 4 hours, but at this point, one guide and three Italians all deserted the group. The Italians were apparently not much of a loss due to their non-stop complaints and bitching about Americans, but the guide´s desertion was a little more serious. The 6 people left still had one guide, but what if he left, too? Anyway, it all worked out, they had a wonderful time, and now they have an awesome story.
After whiling away the journey with stories, we got to the launch site on the river Urubamba around 11am. Looking at the river, we were slightly sceptical regarding the claim that this would be a class 2-3 trip. Honestly, an inner tube looked like it´d be fine going down that river. We all changed into our stylin´wetsuits, windbreakers, life vests, and safety helmets. We were a gorgeous group. Then we got into our 2 rafts and received our lesson in: forward, back, left back, right back, jump left, jump right and inside. I was in a raft with the two Georgia gals and two guides. The other raft had the two couples, one guide and the guide´s Danish girlfriend. Apparently, she went on a two-day rafting trip with Joselo 3 months ago, got very drunk the first night and ended up moving in with him. She seemed a little confused as to how this had all come about, but still happy with the situation.
Anyway, our guide who was steering did an awesome job, he made that class 2 river seem like a class three by having us all jump to the side as we were hitting bitty rapids or taking us down a two foot fall backward. It made the whole thing much more exciting. Just to make sure that we all got into the spirit of the day, each raft was a team (we were the gringas, later changed to las gringas locas) and when told, "attack!" we got to splash each other with our paddles. Unfortunately for Ramon, our second guide, we were having a bit too much fun and when told to jump to the left, I seem to have pushed him in. I swear that I didn´t touch him, but suddenly he was in the river and I was the only one nearby. Whoops!
Ramon wasn´t the only one to enter the river. About 3/4 of the way down, there was an old wooden bridge which we were all invited to jump off of. I´m sorry to disappoint you all, but I was the only one of the paying guests who refused the jump. Honestly, I was wearing flip flops, the rocks were sharp and the water was absolutely freezing. I had no intention of catching a bad cold right before my 4 day hike. Of course, this let me in for a bit of ribbing, which I was able to quash by asking if any of them had ever tried the flying trapeze. Hah!
All things have to end, and we ended up at a little local restaurant where I was served chicken broth with ramen noodles as my vegetarian meal. Luckily, this was followed by some spaghetti, so I didn´t starve to death. We were all pretty wiped by the time on the water and mostly snoozed on the way back to Cusco. The two couples and I made plans to meet up at a full moon party later that night and we parted.
I was unable to keep that date. Oh my god, it gets COLD in Cusco. It dropped to around 15 degrees last night and there was no way that I was dressing up in a skimpy outfit and going to a psytrance rave, even if it was in a mansion in the hills. I know, I´m weak. I didn´t even go to the pre-costume-party at the Loki hostel. I got dressed and then stalled. In fact, I couldn´t even seem to leave the blankets long enough to get something to eat and I was starving. Finally, at 10, I accepted that I am old and lame and was not going to the party. I threw on long underwear, polar fleece pants and a sweatshirt, a scarf, hat, and gloves and went out for pizza.
Back at the hostel, I sat around in the lovely, warmish TV room on a bean bag chair with a blanket and watched Hostel. Yes, a group of backpackers staying in a hostel decided to scare ourselves silly by watching other backpackers be murdered in extremely gory ways. EEEEK! Good times though. The hostel was pretty evenly divided between the brave souls who risked pneumonia for a good drunk, and those of us who put on our warmest clothes and huddled together.
Yay for rafting day!

Visiting Gringo Alley

After my fab horseback riding trip, I took a long, soothing shower at the hostel and then departed to visit the infamous Gringo Alley. This alley is filled with restaurants, cafes, hippie shops (including one named patchouli), internet cafes, and even a dutch movie house. Pretty cool! It must be pretty strange to be a resident of a city that has a whole area devoted to another culture, filled with transients. It´s different than a China town or a Japan town. Instead of being filled with other Cusquenos who happen to come from a different part of the world, but now live here, Cusqo is filled with a constantly changing horde of backpackers from all over the world. Odd.
I cruised the alley, repeating, "No, gracias. No tengo hambre" to all of the restaurant touts. I came close to buying some garish pink suede boots with suede applique in the shape of a condor. Pretty styling! I visited the movie house, but there wasn´t a show that night. Then, I stopped by the Israeli shwarma restarant. There, I was crammed into a tiny room with a bunch of other travellers all eating yummy falafel wraps. We had an enlivening discussion comparing ayahuasca to the local hallucinogenic cactus, called San Pedro.
A guy from Chicago had just had a shaman guided ayahuasca experience and shared the whole experience. Oddly enough, any niggling interest I had in trying it died after hearing his story. Apparently, he and 3 friends had been put in touch with a local Shaman, who had picked them up at 10pm, driven them out to a shack in the hills somewhere. There, they each had individual bedrolls and blankets. The shaman prepared the ayahuasca mixture, fed it to them, and then rubbed their backs when they puked it all up a half an hour later. Apparently, after the vomiting is when the visions begin. Each person curled up in their own little worlds, dreaming and hallucinating while the shaman drummed and chanted, "Ayahuasca es bueno, ayahuasca es medicina." They spent about 5 hours like this, not talking, in complete darkness, with the shaman rubbing them with strange oils and chanting the whole time. Then, for the next day, they all felt like absolute crap, but were cleansed and rejuvenated.
A good story, and the guy was raving about the experience. 3 German kids were raring to go out an buy some ayahuasca that very moment. However, the idea of lying in a dark shack all night, letting the village crazy man rub oil on me had very little appeal to me. Oh, fun fact...traditionally, the shaman is the village crazy person. It´s the guy with schizophrenia or the epileptic, someone with some mental or physical trait that made him stand out from the group. The office of shaman allowed this person to be an integral part of the society. As part of his training, he was required to sit around drinking and doing drugs all day and going off into the jungle by himself. All this, and he was one of the most respected members of the group. Gives an interesting twist to our point of view of mentally ill drug addicts.
After this conversation and a stop at the internet cafe, it was time for bed. Good night!