So I'm sitting here, in the VIP club of Lima International Airport, thinking about this arduous, challenging, and yet totally amazing trip, realizing that none of this would have been possible if pieces hadn't fallen in exactly the right (and seemingly wrong) places. It all boils down to taking a risk. Perhaps the spark that started it all was deciding to apply for my internship in Paris. Like dominoes, the pieces have fallen into place ever since then. I took the chance. It sucked, it was hard, and it was amazing all at once. The same thing has happpened ever since. Changing the course of my life by taking the BER job sucked at times, it was very hard, and it's amazing where it has taken me.
I feel like I'm opening a new chapter of my life coming home this time. School orientation starts on Monday. Ready or not, here I come. I did not expect to be a pharmacist. I did not expect that I would want to travel the world. I did not expect that I would be in love. But what one does not expect makes everything worthwhile. I did not expect that this would be the hardest three weeks I've had in a long time, yet I stood alone atop a mountain at a wonder of the world. I did not expect to have broken conversations in half english, half spanish with so many people, yet we got our points across. I did not expect to have so much to return home to, and yet have so much I was leaving behind.
Peru has broken me and built me up. My adventures were not expected, but were probably what was needed most. Life seems to do that to you.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Machu Picchu, the Actual Ruins
So, to continue:
Once I finally walked down from Wayna Picchu (around 10am, just in time to beat the hoards heading up in the second group), I sought shade and water. Sitting there alone, I was surrounded by a tour group, and thus began my accidental piecemeal tour of the ruins. I just wanted to sit down... but there was no way not to eavesdrop! Everywhere I turned, I was in the middle of an english-speaking tour. While at times I felt guilty for not paying for my own, really, I wasn't TRYING to stalk them... there's just 2500 people in one place, most of whom take a tour, and 3/4 of these tours seemed to be in English.
But really, I ended up walking out of the ruins (you can come back, and you're not supposed to eat at the site) to much on my peruvian energy bar and other snacks I'd brought. These weird "energy bars" actually taste a lot like corn pops cereal, and have coconut flakes, dried apple, and date pieces. Too bad I was weirded out by them before, they are TASTY. Once rested, and baño-ed (for S1...), I went back in, and stamped my passport with the Machu Picchu stamp (there was no line!), and pulled out the LP to take the basic guided tour myself.
Between the LP and overhearing everyone around me, I got the gist of the place. After a while, I found a quiet place and just laid down on the grass, basking in the amazing natural wonders and the sheer feat of engineering I was tucked into the mountains on. The ruins were not that much more impressive than other ruins I've seen (although they are definitely nothing to be scoffed at!!), but again, the location is SPECTACULAR. I'm home soon... there will be photos from my crappy camera soon, but there really is no way they will be able to actually capture what it feels like to be there. For one of the first times on this whole trip, I really was truly happy I came.
Then I got on the bus down the hill, and the exhaustion hit. All I wanted was a Red Mill burger, and burgers here are nothing even remotely close to Red Mill. I settled for crappy, overpriced tourist food and a beer, which almost made me comatose. Practically crawling onto the train home, I was NOT amused by the "fashion show" and subsequent sales pitch for Peru Rail's line of sweaters and scarves. Nor was I thrilled with the older gentleman next to me, regaling me about all of his hernia surgeries in the last year (but props to him for going to Machu Picchu!!). The uncertainty of the rickety minibus ride from Ollanta was made ever so much less stressful considering the nun in her habit and the little girl asleep in her lap in the seat behind me. I took that as a sign of relative safety... and I made it back to Cusco alive.
I pretty much fell into bed the moment I finished washing the filth, dirt, sweat, and orange juice off in a marvelously hot shower (S32 a night was never worth so much!!). All 7 of my roommates came back at some point that night, but I have no recollection of ANY of them returning and going to bed. I was OUT. It was a LONG day, a marvelous day, and a day that wrecked me completely.
Once I finally walked down from Wayna Picchu (around 10am, just in time to beat the hoards heading up in the second group), I sought shade and water. Sitting there alone, I was surrounded by a tour group, and thus began my accidental piecemeal tour of the ruins. I just wanted to sit down... but there was no way not to eavesdrop! Everywhere I turned, I was in the middle of an english-speaking tour. While at times I felt guilty for not paying for my own, really, I wasn't TRYING to stalk them... there's just 2500 people in one place, most of whom take a tour, and 3/4 of these tours seemed to be in English.
But really, I ended up walking out of the ruins (you can come back, and you're not supposed to eat at the site) to much on my peruvian energy bar and other snacks I'd brought. These weird "energy bars" actually taste a lot like corn pops cereal, and have coconut flakes, dried apple, and date pieces. Too bad I was weirded out by them before, they are TASTY. Once rested, and baño-ed (for S1...), I went back in, and stamped my passport with the Machu Picchu stamp (there was no line!), and pulled out the LP to take the basic guided tour myself.
Between the LP and overhearing everyone around me, I got the gist of the place. After a while, I found a quiet place and just laid down on the grass, basking in the amazing natural wonders and the sheer feat of engineering I was tucked into the mountains on. The ruins were not that much more impressive than other ruins I've seen (although they are definitely nothing to be scoffed at!!), but again, the location is SPECTACULAR. I'm home soon... there will be photos from my crappy camera soon, but there really is no way they will be able to actually capture what it feels like to be there. For one of the first times on this whole trip, I really was truly happy I came.
Then I got on the bus down the hill, and the exhaustion hit. All I wanted was a Red Mill burger, and burgers here are nothing even remotely close to Red Mill. I settled for crappy, overpriced tourist food and a beer, which almost made me comatose. Practically crawling onto the train home, I was NOT amused by the "fashion show" and subsequent sales pitch for Peru Rail's line of sweaters and scarves. Nor was I thrilled with the older gentleman next to me, regaling me about all of his hernia surgeries in the last year (but props to him for going to Machu Picchu!!). The uncertainty of the rickety minibus ride from Ollanta was made ever so much less stressful considering the nun in her habit and the little girl asleep in her lap in the seat behind me. I took that as a sign of relative safety... and I made it back to Cusco alive.
I pretty much fell into bed the moment I finished washing the filth, dirt, sweat, and orange juice off in a marvelously hot shower (S32 a night was never worth so much!!). All 7 of my roommates came back at some point that night, but I have no recollection of ANY of them returning and going to bed. I was OUT. It was a LONG day, a marvelous day, and a day that wrecked me completely.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
So Here's the Rub...
Traveling is exhausting. Adventure and cultural traveling is even more exhausting than your usual beach or camping vacation. Traveling in a language you don't even have a basic grasp of is headache-inducing. Traveling at altitude is exhausting. Traveling while sick is inherantly exhausting, and completely emotionally draining. Throwing all of yourself into a magical day at a place you never imagined you'd visit is thrilling, if not entirely exhausting.
I got up this morning, bright and early to go to the Isla Traquille. I asked for directions to the port from the hostel owner, and while he had been so helpful the night before, he lit into me about how crazy I was for trying to go without a tour, expecially since my spanish is SO horrible. Even after yesterday spent entirely on a bus driving from Cusco to Puno resting up from the dramatic efforts I made at Machu Picchu, I clearly had not recovered from my sickness and exhaustion. So someone calling me crazy, telling me how stupid I was, how much of an awful American who speaks no spanish I was... hitting at all of the things I feel like could be very, very true... I finally lost it. I ended up sleeping most of the day to stop from sobbing, reading a bit, and finally dragged my butt out of bed and made my way to a VERY gringo restaurant where I had an amazing eggplant parmasana style sandwich and chocolate caliente.
Luckily, it didn't start raining until I got back. It's hailing and dumping rain right now, thunder and lightning echoing in the distance. It¡s the first rain I've seen since I got to Peru, and damn it feels like home. The smell of it hitting the warm pavement, the sound of it on the plastic roof over the courtyard, the sparkling underneath the streetlamps. It feels like a little piece of Seattle.
So tomorrow I won't ask for directions. I know how to get to the port. I know how to ask for a ticket to the Isla Uros. I know how to manage my time, how to get food, how to get to the bus station, how to get through the last 4 days I have in Peru. I know that I can do this, as I have been doing it, even completely debilitated by 4 kinds of sickness. The well had simply run dry today, but maybe through a little food, a little chocolate, a little more sleep, and a little rain reminding me of home, there will be something there for me to pull from tomorrow.
I got up this morning, bright and early to go to the Isla Traquille. I asked for directions to the port from the hostel owner, and while he had been so helpful the night before, he lit into me about how crazy I was for trying to go without a tour, expecially since my spanish is SO horrible. Even after yesterday spent entirely on a bus driving from Cusco to Puno resting up from the dramatic efforts I made at Machu Picchu, I clearly had not recovered from my sickness and exhaustion. So someone calling me crazy, telling me how stupid I was, how much of an awful American who speaks no spanish I was... hitting at all of the things I feel like could be very, very true... I finally lost it. I ended up sleeping most of the day to stop from sobbing, reading a bit, and finally dragged my butt out of bed and made my way to a VERY gringo restaurant where I had an amazing eggplant parmasana style sandwich and chocolate caliente.
Luckily, it didn't start raining until I got back. It's hailing and dumping rain right now, thunder and lightning echoing in the distance. It¡s the first rain I've seen since I got to Peru, and damn it feels like home. The smell of it hitting the warm pavement, the sound of it on the plastic roof over the courtyard, the sparkling underneath the streetlamps. It feels like a little piece of Seattle.
So tomorrow I won't ask for directions. I know how to get to the port. I know how to ask for a ticket to the Isla Uros. I know how to manage my time, how to get food, how to get to the bus station, how to get through the last 4 days I have in Peru. I know that I can do this, as I have been doing it, even completely debilitated by 4 kinds of sickness. The well had simply run dry today, but maybe through a little food, a little chocolate, a little more sleep, and a little rain reminding me of home, there will be something there for me to pull from tomorrow.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
The Great Machu Picchu Orange Juice Disaster of 2011
So somehow I managed to not only get my ticket only three days in advance to Machu Picchu, but I was able to buy the pass up the smaller mountain, Wayna Picchu at the same time. This is the mountain you see at the end of the ruins in all the postcard photographs, and they only let 400 people up a day. My pass was for 7am, which made for an early morning.
Up at 4:30am after not being able to fall asleep for hours the night before, groggily stuffing my limbs into my decided outfit (after all, these photos will live forever...), I stumbled my way out of the hostel and down the block to queue for the 5:30 bus. I toted along some breakfast: yogurt, cookies, and a big tetrapack of orange juice. I drank the yogurt (it's all drinkable down here) and cracked my way into the OJ on the ride up, in the hopes of some easy sugars to jumpstart my body.
Once at Machu Picchu, I had an hour to take photos before the Wayanapicchu hike time started. Walking up a flight of stairs felt good and yet put me completely out of breath. I had acclimated finally to the altitude, but there is still very little oxygen up here. But the ruins are breathtaking too... It's more the setting than the actual structures, although they are extremely impressive. The Inca were clearly incredibly talented engineers.
After a few photos, I became nervous about finding my way to the hike starting point, and wandered over in the general direction. I got there early, but my entire mantra for the few days prior was to take it easy and not exhaust myself so that I could have energy for this day, and so I hung out at the gate for a bit, only a group of Japanese tourists ahead of me in line. When they started letting people in, I was number 7 through the gate.
God hiking felt good, and I quickly passed the group ahead of me. I could feel how much weaker my legs were than before this trip, but I pushed them to keep going. Wayna Picchu is basically a crazy staircase up the face of a cliff, and dammit it felt amazing as the view behind me developed and as I got closer to the lingering clouds clinging to the mountaintops.
Then I realized that I was alone. I couldn't hear anyone... Not a single footstep behind me. I reveled in that, at a wonder of the world, I was alone. Then it hit me that I could be the first to the top. Competitive Adrian hasn't been doing so well with this feebleness, and so that side of me took over.
It was about a switchback after this decision to power up the mountain, that I felt an odd drip on the back of my leg. I opened my little day pack to find a disaster--the orange juice container was slowly leaking from somewhere. My Spanish phrasebook was drenched as was my notepad that I'd been using as a journal. The liquid was sticky and sweet, covering the bottom of my bag, and seeping through to infiltrate my vest and shirt, not to mention my pants. I readjusted everything, but didn't ditch the OJ... Considering the mess already, it couldn't get that much worse. I tied a plastic bag around it and kept going, cursing the lost time and wondering how the heck no one had caught up to me yet.
Now I had to make time. The exhilaration of exercise combined with the ever-more staggering beauty unfolding around me, and possibly the lack of oxygen in my brain, was thrilling. A rest--no footsteps. A sign--25 minutes to the top, and so I would check my watch... 10 minutes, no one. 15, still alone but slowing down a lot. The cold that I had been trying to ignore threw me a coughing fit, so I had to stop and pull a cough drop from my bag, more time wasted!
As I was coming to the first real overlook, and becoming concerned that I had gone the wrong way, I heard voices. I pushed through the tiredness, took pictures on the sly and on the run, and scrambled through caves and tight places (you can't be fat, or wear a moderately sized backpack and fit through some of these nooks and crannies). I put some more distance between me and the voices. Then I could see the top. Breathing deep, I just put one foot ahead of the other. One more cave, and different voices behind me. Up the ladder, hand-breathe-foot-breathe, and I emerged into the sky.
The reason Machu Picchu is so worth it is simply the setting. You couldn't get more beautiful. I sat at the summit of Wayna Picchu as a young perfectly in shape couple came up the ladder, clearly disappointed that I, half sick, covered in sweat, orange juice, and about 12 layers of dirt, yet completely glowing from the exertion, had beaten them. I didn't give up my post as more people came up, I watched as the sun and wind blew the wisps of clouds around the thumb-like mountains, as the rivers churned and babbled so far below, as the ruins lay out before me like a promise.
Pictures were taken, and as the summit became crowded, I slipped back down the ladder, and found a place to just sit and watch the world. I sat there, drinking the entire remaining contents of my orange juice, pulling the entire contents of my bag out and literally pouring the leaked juice from my bag. Luckily, I had toilet paper to mop up the mess. Everything about me was filthy. I had scrambled up this cliff with everything I had, and it wasn't even 8am. I have never been so completely content, so completely at peace, so completely happy. At least not anytime in the last two weeks.
More to come later.
Up at 4:30am after not being able to fall asleep for hours the night before, groggily stuffing my limbs into my decided outfit (after all, these photos will live forever...), I stumbled my way out of the hostel and down the block to queue for the 5:30 bus. I toted along some breakfast: yogurt, cookies, and a big tetrapack of orange juice. I drank the yogurt (it's all drinkable down here) and cracked my way into the OJ on the ride up, in the hopes of some easy sugars to jumpstart my body.
Once at Machu Picchu, I had an hour to take photos before the Wayanapicchu hike time started. Walking up a flight of stairs felt good and yet put me completely out of breath. I had acclimated finally to the altitude, but there is still very little oxygen up here. But the ruins are breathtaking too... It's more the setting than the actual structures, although they are extremely impressive. The Inca were clearly incredibly talented engineers.
After a few photos, I became nervous about finding my way to the hike starting point, and wandered over in the general direction. I got there early, but my entire mantra for the few days prior was to take it easy and not exhaust myself so that I could have energy for this day, and so I hung out at the gate for a bit, only a group of Japanese tourists ahead of me in line. When they started letting people in, I was number 7 through the gate.
God hiking felt good, and I quickly passed the group ahead of me. I could feel how much weaker my legs were than before this trip, but I pushed them to keep going. Wayna Picchu is basically a crazy staircase up the face of a cliff, and dammit it felt amazing as the view behind me developed and as I got closer to the lingering clouds clinging to the mountaintops.
Then I realized that I was alone. I couldn't hear anyone... Not a single footstep behind me. I reveled in that, at a wonder of the world, I was alone. Then it hit me that I could be the first to the top. Competitive Adrian hasn't been doing so well with this feebleness, and so that side of me took over.
It was about a switchback after this decision to power up the mountain, that I felt an odd drip on the back of my leg. I opened my little day pack to find a disaster--the orange juice container was slowly leaking from somewhere. My Spanish phrasebook was drenched as was my notepad that I'd been using as a journal. The liquid was sticky and sweet, covering the bottom of my bag, and seeping through to infiltrate my vest and shirt, not to mention my pants. I readjusted everything, but didn't ditch the OJ... Considering the mess already, it couldn't get that much worse. I tied a plastic bag around it and kept going, cursing the lost time and wondering how the heck no one had caught up to me yet.
Now I had to make time. The exhilaration of exercise combined with the ever-more staggering beauty unfolding around me, and possibly the lack of oxygen in my brain, was thrilling. A rest--no footsteps. A sign--25 minutes to the top, and so I would check my watch... 10 minutes, no one. 15, still alone but slowing down a lot. The cold that I had been trying to ignore threw me a coughing fit, so I had to stop and pull a cough drop from my bag, more time wasted!
As I was coming to the first real overlook, and becoming concerned that I had gone the wrong way, I heard voices. I pushed through the tiredness, took pictures on the sly and on the run, and scrambled through caves and tight places (you can't be fat, or wear a moderately sized backpack and fit through some of these nooks and crannies). I put some more distance between me and the voices. Then I could see the top. Breathing deep, I just put one foot ahead of the other. One more cave, and different voices behind me. Up the ladder, hand-breathe-foot-breathe, and I emerged into the sky.
The reason Machu Picchu is so worth it is simply the setting. You couldn't get more beautiful. I sat at the summit of Wayna Picchu as a young perfectly in shape couple came up the ladder, clearly disappointed that I, half sick, covered in sweat, orange juice, and about 12 layers of dirt, yet completely glowing from the exertion, had beaten them. I didn't give up my post as more people came up, I watched as the sun and wind blew the wisps of clouds around the thumb-like mountains, as the rivers churned and babbled so far below, as the ruins lay out before me like a promise.
Pictures were taken, and as the summit became crowded, I slipped back down the ladder, and found a place to just sit and watch the world. I sat there, drinking the entire remaining contents of my orange juice, pulling the entire contents of my bag out and literally pouring the leaked juice from my bag. Luckily, I had toilet paper to mop up the mess. Everything about me was filthy. I had scrambled up this cliff with everything I had, and it wasn't even 8am. I have never been so completely content, so completely at peace, so completely happy. At least not anytime in the last two weeks.
More to come later.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Up and Walking, but Definitely Not Running.
YAY!! I´m not completely comatose!
In fact, I managed to walk around Cusco quite a bit today, although not quite all the way up the hill to the ruins or the little "Christo Blanco" that overlooks the city (it's a much smaller version of a christ the redemer statue). Then I packed a weekend bag for my trip to Machu Picchu, and got the hell out of Cusco. I'd been there far too long, far too incapacitated, so I decided to spend a night in the sacred valley town of Ollantaytambo, since I liked it so much on the tour Sunday. It's where I catch the train to Aguas Calientes (the town at the base of Machu Picchu) tomorrow, so in a way, I'm just extending my "trek" to MP.
But I had to get to Ollantaytambo. It's a two hour ride, in something called a collectivo... but where my first taxi driver dropped me off, it just ended up being a hatchback taxi with three peruvians in the backseat. So I got to ride shotgun for S12, watching the mountains pass by, and really hoping I wasn't going to be kidnapped or worse. After a bit of the ride, I finally eased into it. Passing by so much of the countryside, seeing all the people going about their lives, the mountains looming overhead, the sheer fact that I didn't feel like CRAP... it finally all let me ease up and just enjoy the trip. Of course I ended up in Ollanta fine. Of course there was space at the adorable hostel that LP suggested. Of course the weather is beautiful. Of course I spent time conversing with the guy who sold me my beer at the base of the ruins because he wanted to practice his english. Of course the quiet peacefulness of this town has me relaxing. Por supuesto.
I even hiked a little on a trail up the hillside. My goal is to hike all the way up in the morning, as the morning light is hitting the ruins and lighting up the town. We'll see though. It was warm enough here to wear my skirt in Cusco today, and seeing my scary chicken legs, so withered from so much recovering, definitely put this whole thing in perspective. I seriously have not been well. My body is not the same. I can't wait to get home and have to rebuild all of my biking and running muscles. :/
But there are two british girls in my hostel room, and we might grab dinner together tonight. I'm all for making it an early one though... I might be feeling better, but I'm certainly not all the way well.
In fact, I managed to walk around Cusco quite a bit today, although not quite all the way up the hill to the ruins or the little "Christo Blanco" that overlooks the city (it's a much smaller version of a christ the redemer statue). Then I packed a weekend bag for my trip to Machu Picchu, and got the hell out of Cusco. I'd been there far too long, far too incapacitated, so I decided to spend a night in the sacred valley town of Ollantaytambo, since I liked it so much on the tour Sunday. It's where I catch the train to Aguas Calientes (the town at the base of Machu Picchu) tomorrow, so in a way, I'm just extending my "trek" to MP.
But I had to get to Ollantaytambo. It's a two hour ride, in something called a collectivo... but where my first taxi driver dropped me off, it just ended up being a hatchback taxi with three peruvians in the backseat. So I got to ride shotgun for S12, watching the mountains pass by, and really hoping I wasn't going to be kidnapped or worse. After a bit of the ride, I finally eased into it. Passing by so much of the countryside, seeing all the people going about their lives, the mountains looming overhead, the sheer fact that I didn't feel like CRAP... it finally all let me ease up and just enjoy the trip. Of course I ended up in Ollanta fine. Of course there was space at the adorable hostel that LP suggested. Of course the weather is beautiful. Of course I spent time conversing with the guy who sold me my beer at the base of the ruins because he wanted to practice his english. Of course the quiet peacefulness of this town has me relaxing. Por supuesto.
I even hiked a little on a trail up the hillside. My goal is to hike all the way up in the morning, as the morning light is hitting the ruins and lighting up the town. We'll see though. It was warm enough here to wear my skirt in Cusco today, and seeing my scary chicken legs, so withered from so much recovering, definitely put this whole thing in perspective. I seriously have not been well. My body is not the same. I can't wait to get home and have to rebuild all of my biking and running muscles. :/
But there are two british girls in my hostel room, and we might grab dinner together tonight. I'm all for making it an early one though... I might be feeling better, but I'm certainly not all the way well.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Up and Moving
Ever since I got to Cusco, I've been fairly incapacitated. Instead of romping around the party town, I've been huddled in my bed, sleeping off this evil cold. However, last night in a moment of panic and utter frustration with my body's blatent betrayal, and after a helpful calm-down talk with Tom back home (skype is the best thing to come out of the internet revolution, I swear), I finally came to my senses and gave up. There would be no chance that I was going to be able to make any kind of trek to Machu Picchu. Hell, I could hardly walk around Cusco. Machu Picchu was going to be more than enough. So I walked back into my room, and realized that I had to talk to someone. I needed some kind of help. I hated admitting that, even to myself.
My roommate was in the room, and somehow we started talking. Soon enough, we were going out to dinner (juice and soup, exactly what I needed!), and it turned out that she had gone to Machu Picchu the route that I was going to have to resort to--taking the train and staying in the town of Aguas Calientes. Simply talking to her, having her show me the websites (which ultimately wouldn't work, but still...), and hearing her tips for getting the right tickets and buying the bus ticket the night before, and where to catch the bus to get to Ollanta, FINALLY I could figure out the plan that I hadn't expected to have to fall back on. So in the morning, I went down to the computers to reserve my tickets, and couldn't pay for ANYTHING. So I had a mini-jog around town in my messy hair, glasses, flip-flops, half-pajamas and general frustration (these tickets are HIGH demand, and thus very time sensative), to find the train office, then the right bank (third one was a charm, ugh, who has 3 different banks on one corner?!) to pay for my Machu Picchu reservation. Back at the hostel, at least one part of the plan in place, I crashed again for a couple of hours.
When I went down to see about bus tickets and figure out a time frame for the rest of my journey (I definitely want to be back in Lima in time to get the hell out of here), I once again struggled with online purchases, even on the english page! But I figured out a good general schedule to get myself to Puno, and back through Arequipa on my way to Lima by bus. I might even splurge on the fancy lower level for the overnight long bus from Arequipa to Lima! While at the computers, I ran into Sandra again, and we ended up going to lunch together, then to a crazy market and general wanderings around Cusco. So at least I've done a little shopping, a little wandering, and a little sight-seeing. Tomorrow I'll probably do a little walking tour of Cusco in the morning (it's in the LP), then take the bus to Ollantaytambo, the jumping off place for my train the day after. This way, I'll finally get out of this hostel (not that it's not lovely) and get to explore a sleepy town a little. Then it's onwards to MP.
It feels really good to have a plan again. It helps me to focus when my body is rebelling like this. When I know I have to get to a place by a certain time, I don't end up hunkered down in my hostel reading for hours on end. I'm going to have seen everything that I really wanted to see (although, not the treks and not any of the fun stuff up north, but it's only 3 weeks afterall), and I think this thing can turn around. I definitely feel better, and with my hand-woven scarf around my neck, I feel a little more cozy. My friend has moved on to her further adventures, but I have my adventures, and endless people to meet along the way. I miss everyone back home though, and definitely think that next time, I'm going to drag someone along with me.
My roommate was in the room, and somehow we started talking. Soon enough, we were going out to dinner (juice and soup, exactly what I needed!), and it turned out that she had gone to Machu Picchu the route that I was going to have to resort to--taking the train and staying in the town of Aguas Calientes. Simply talking to her, having her show me the websites (which ultimately wouldn't work, but still...), and hearing her tips for getting the right tickets and buying the bus ticket the night before, and where to catch the bus to get to Ollanta, FINALLY I could figure out the plan that I hadn't expected to have to fall back on. So in the morning, I went down to the computers to reserve my tickets, and couldn't pay for ANYTHING. So I had a mini-jog around town in my messy hair, glasses, flip-flops, half-pajamas and general frustration (these tickets are HIGH demand, and thus very time sensative), to find the train office, then the right bank (third one was a charm, ugh, who has 3 different banks on one corner?!) to pay for my Machu Picchu reservation. Back at the hostel, at least one part of the plan in place, I crashed again for a couple of hours.
When I went down to see about bus tickets and figure out a time frame for the rest of my journey (I definitely want to be back in Lima in time to get the hell out of here), I once again struggled with online purchases, even on the english page! But I figured out a good general schedule to get myself to Puno, and back through Arequipa on my way to Lima by bus. I might even splurge on the fancy lower level for the overnight long bus from Arequipa to Lima! While at the computers, I ran into Sandra again, and we ended up going to lunch together, then to a crazy market and general wanderings around Cusco. So at least I've done a little shopping, a little wandering, and a little sight-seeing. Tomorrow I'll probably do a little walking tour of Cusco in the morning (it's in the LP), then take the bus to Ollantaytambo, the jumping off place for my train the day after. This way, I'll finally get out of this hostel (not that it's not lovely) and get to explore a sleepy town a little. Then it's onwards to MP.
It feels really good to have a plan again. It helps me to focus when my body is rebelling like this. When I know I have to get to a place by a certain time, I don't end up hunkered down in my hostel reading for hours on end. I'm going to have seen everything that I really wanted to see (although, not the treks and not any of the fun stuff up north, but it's only 3 weeks afterall), and I think this thing can turn around. I definitely feel better, and with my hand-woven scarf around my neck, I feel a little more cozy. My friend has moved on to her further adventures, but I have my adventures, and endless people to meet along the way. I miss everyone back home though, and definitely think that next time, I'm going to drag someone along with me.
Monday, September 5, 2011
Determination
If there's one thing I have, it's a stubborn streak. Deciding things can be tricky for me, but once I've made up my mind, there's not much going back. So, sometimes to my own detriment, I make up my mind to do something and just wait to see what will happen. Like right now, I feel worn out from a cold, but I'm determined to figure out how to get to Machu Pichu, so I walked to the tour office of a company a friend I met here is using to hike the Salkantay route. Unfortunately they had moved far enough that I didn't want to walk while still trying to recover energy, so I went back to the hostel where there are computers, pulled out my spanish dictionary and managed to communicate two VERY broken sentances over the company's online chat program to see if there was an opening. I think they are sending me information...
I am determined that I am going to trek this. No matter what my body may be thinking, I want to do what I intended to do when I left--which is hike. Luckily Cuzco is a pretty nice town, and hanging out here for a bit longer while I figure this out. If this falls through, there are a lot of other tour companies including one in my hostel. So here we go... I'm determined and my cold is just going to have to respond to my will. Or I may just be being a fool... who's GOING to Machu Pichu, come hell or high altitude.
I am determined that I am going to trek this. No matter what my body may be thinking, I want to do what I intended to do when I left--which is hike. Luckily Cuzco is a pretty nice town, and hanging out here for a bit longer while I figure this out. If this falls through, there are a lot of other tour companies including one in my hostel. So here we go... I'm determined and my cold is just going to have to respond to my will. Or I may just be being a fool... who's GOING to Machu Pichu, come hell or high altitude.
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