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.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Touring the Sacred Valley
My tour of the sacred valley generally tested my theory that I have gone through the worst of my altitude sickness... But proved that my body just doesn't want to cooperate with me this trip. I don't think I have actually felt WELL since my plane landed in Lima. The other night, on my overnight bus, just as my food poisoning and altitude sickness had finally subsided, I got a tickle in my throat... And sure enough, I'm getting a cold. Yesterday I spent mostly in bed reading, although I did have a little walk around town in search of good coffee, and not only did the 3350m altitude not affect me too badly (it's still a bit of a huff & puff up some of the steeper hills), but I found an Aussie-run coffee place that knows how to make a cappuccino!
So anyways, the sacred valley tour. First off, I was still sick and didn't really want to talk to anyone. Second off, I was the only English speaker on the whole bus so the English translation was ONLY for me. Sounds awkward huh? It ended up being really nice, if touristy like every other tour I've been on.
First we went to Pisac, a beautifully terraced fortress where I tested my ability to move around and climb stairs both sick and at altitude. I still had a hard time catching my breath, but it actually felt so much better to feel like I was hiking again! Back on the bus we headed to ollantaytambo, driving through the valley along the river. I could see why the indigenous people felt this place was sacred! Mountains on either side, deep valleys, terraces cut into the hillsides, tiny towns, the sun shining down on all of it... Es muy bonita!
Ollantaytambo was an even harder climb, but at the top was something like a Peruvian version of Stonehenge. 6 monolithic stones brought from the other side of the valley before the Incas perfectly fit together without mortar.
The last stop was a church in Chinchero. Surprisingly there was a weaving demonstration (another tourist trap moment, but a cool one for this knitter!) with demonstration of vegetable dying as well. sadly their yarn was too threadlike for me to buy (noooo!!). I still am on a quest for Peruvian wool to knit with this winter.
These tours involve a lot of bus time (and I'm writing this on my iPhone to pass the time, wanted you to know in case the grammar and typos are a bit awkward), which hopefully will help me recover a bit. Stupid me decided NOT to bring the sudafed, so I'm soon headed to a farmacia with my little phrasebook. I'm glad it has a lot of health phrases!
So anyways, the sacred valley tour. First off, I was still sick and didn't really want to talk to anyone. Second off, I was the only English speaker on the whole bus so the English translation was ONLY for me. Sounds awkward huh? It ended up being really nice, if touristy like every other tour I've been on.
First we went to Pisac, a beautifully terraced fortress where I tested my ability to move around and climb stairs both sick and at altitude. I still had a hard time catching my breath, but it actually felt so much better to feel like I was hiking again! Back on the bus we headed to ollantaytambo, driving through the valley along the river. I could see why the indigenous people felt this place was sacred! Mountains on either side, deep valleys, terraces cut into the hillsides, tiny towns, the sun shining down on all of it... Es muy bonita!
Ollantaytambo was an even harder climb, but at the top was something like a Peruvian version of Stonehenge. 6 monolithic stones brought from the other side of the valley before the Incas perfectly fit together without mortar.
The last stop was a church in Chinchero. Surprisingly there was a weaving demonstration (another tourist trap moment, but a cool one for this knitter!) with demonstration of vegetable dying as well. sadly their yarn was too threadlike for me to buy (noooo!!). I still am on a quest for Peruvian wool to knit with this winter.
These tours involve a lot of bus time (and I'm writing this on my iPhone to pass the time, wanted you to know in case the grammar and typos are a bit awkward), which hopefully will help me recover a bit. Stupid me decided NOT to bring the sudafed, so I'm soon headed to a farmacia with my little phrasebook. I'm glad it has a lot of health phrases!
Friday, September 2, 2011
The Lives of the Saints, or Quiet Beauty for S35
Today I went to the monestary in Arequipa to get my church and museum quotient all in at once. While I balked at the S35 price (more than a night in a fairly expensive hostel?!) I decided that if the guide book recommended it with two full pages of info, I should probably go. The tour was S20, so I turned that down, and read from lonely planet and the well translated placards. They encouraged you to take as long as you liked, and as I had to kill a lot of time today, that sounded like a nice plan. It turned out to be a great idea.
First off, it was absolutely beautiful. Built back in the 1600's of the white volcanic stone that is so abundant in Arequipa, many of the walls had been painted brightly in oranges, reds, and blues creating drastic contrasts and staggering vignettes. It really is a city inside the city, taking up a full city block, if not more space, and having different cloisters for the novices and full nuns, street names, and many plazas and gathering places. There was an air of absolute silence about the place, and as I wandered around I felt so calm, aside from the big group of teenage girls who were being teenage girls... It was nice to feel safe and quiet in a city where I definitely keep a hand on my purse, so I found a bench and read my book for a few hours. It was nice to feel some relaxation for a bit on a not-so-relaxing trip.
However, the art and saint representations down here are disturbing. They are particularly gruesome, graphic, and morbid, as well as being exorbitantly ornate. While I realize that the culture is different than mine, I can't help but feel a little weirded out by the conquering religion and it's icons, especially when there is no mention of indigenous people in the entire monastery, and even more because this monastery housed only really wealthy, spanish women, many of the cells having private kitchens and servants (slaves?) quarters. The finery of some of the furniture from the 1800's, and the ornateness of some musical instruments definitely didn't suggest a vow of poverty.
This was a continuation of the semi-anger I felt when looking at the ornate churches and statues in some of the Colca valley towns. Evidently the spaniards made the people move from their individual homes throughout the valley to the towns so it would be easier to evangelize them. Then you see these people living in states of abject poverty while the church is covered in gold leaf. It is an odd dichotomy, but I can only hope that the people find hope in their churches. They definitely live in a beautiful place and have an interesting and fully functioning historical culture, even if it does seem to be a bit of a "show" for the tourists.
Sometimes it's trains of thought like this that take a nice afternoon and turn it into a day fraud with moral dilemmas. Hopefully my tourist dollars and soles are helping in some way, even as the presence of my tourism impacts the land and the towns I visit.
First off, it was absolutely beautiful. Built back in the 1600's of the white volcanic stone that is so abundant in Arequipa, many of the walls had been painted brightly in oranges, reds, and blues creating drastic contrasts and staggering vignettes. It really is a city inside the city, taking up a full city block, if not more space, and having different cloisters for the novices and full nuns, street names, and many plazas and gathering places. There was an air of absolute silence about the place, and as I wandered around I felt so calm, aside from the big group of teenage girls who were being teenage girls... It was nice to feel safe and quiet in a city where I definitely keep a hand on my purse, so I found a bench and read my book for a few hours. It was nice to feel some relaxation for a bit on a not-so-relaxing trip.
However, the art and saint representations down here are disturbing. They are particularly gruesome, graphic, and morbid, as well as being exorbitantly ornate. While I realize that the culture is different than mine, I can't help but feel a little weirded out by the conquering religion and it's icons, especially when there is no mention of indigenous people in the entire monastery, and even more because this monastery housed only really wealthy, spanish women, many of the cells having private kitchens and servants (slaves?) quarters. The finery of some of the furniture from the 1800's, and the ornateness of some musical instruments definitely didn't suggest a vow of poverty.
This was a continuation of the semi-anger I felt when looking at the ornate churches and statues in some of the Colca valley towns. Evidently the spaniards made the people move from their individual homes throughout the valley to the towns so it would be easier to evangelize them. Then you see these people living in states of abject poverty while the church is covered in gold leaf. It is an odd dichotomy, but I can only hope that the people find hope in their churches. They definitely live in a beautiful place and have an interesting and fully functioning historical culture, even if it does seem to be a bit of a "show" for the tourists.
Sometimes it's trains of thought like this that take a nice afternoon and turn it into a day fraud with moral dilemmas. Hopefully my tourist dollars and soles are helping in some way, even as the presence of my tourism impacts the land and the towns I visit.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Overnight Adventure
My trip to colca canyon was definitely interesting... The bus driver was ranked one of the top 5 drivers tourstico, or at least so they said. The tour guide was great, speaking both English and Spanish. Within the first hour we had seen vicuñas in the reserve outside Arequipa (a wild south American cameloid, related to llama and alpaca). We climbed to 4900m (with a stop for matte de coca), and on the way, the guide gave us a lesson in how to chew coca leaves. I tried it (how scandalous!!) but mostly it just makes your mouth numb. Supposedly it helps with the altitude as well.
The scenery was amazing--deserts covered in grass and rocky outcroppings, not too unlike Eastern Washington, although ringed by snow-capped volcanoes.
And then we actually started climbing. Holy god. El elevatión no es mi amigo. I was huddled in the bus, light-headed and ready to puke my guts out by the time we traveled all the windy roads to the 4900m/16,000ft point. Coca helps, eh? Pffft, my sick ass it helps. At most of the stops past the pass i stayed in the bus. I think the driver and guide were minutes from giving me oxygen, but my fingernails weren't too blue. When we got into town for lunch, I stretched out in the minibus and napped, ate some crackers, and thanked my lucky stars that I brought my Nuun along.
I was feeling better, and managed to go to the hot pools (probably not the best idea, but oh such an "experience" and the warmness was lovely) and managed to eat some soup and share some stuff with another American girl on the same tour for dinner. Then I took advil for my caffeine headache since I didn't have coffee and went to bed at 8pm. I'm such a party animal.
Waking up at 4am to body pains, an awful headache and the realization that I had definitely eaten something wrong over the previous few days is not the way to enjoy a vacation. At this point, I realized there is probably not going to be a "treck" in me anytime soon, thus meaning that I don't get to go to Mach Pichu the fun ways. However, the inclusion of chewable pepto-bismal was easily the best packing decision I made.
However, I managed to rally. I got myself moderately capable of walking downstairs, grabbed one of the hollow rolls they have here for breakfast, and avoided the jam. The long, bumpy, unpaved ride up to the canyon was not perfect, but breaks along the way made it bearable. We got to the condor point, and almost immediately two adult condors buzzed us. That was as good as it got though, and taking photos of animals that blend in rather well is hard. The guide offered a short hike along the rim of the canyon and I bucked up, went slow, took deep breaths, and went for the hike without incident.
Lunch after the rickety bus ride back to Chivay seemed impossible, but soup here is usually really good, and they had chicken noodle on the menu. This time it did seem to make me feel better. I slept over the high elevation pass thanks to some of our tour-mates taking a different onward route. They had the bulk of the luggage, and without it I claimed the back of the bus bench seat, to no complaints. I think everyone understood.
Now I am back in Arequipa with my tour friend for one more day and take the night bus to Cuzco tomorrow. Hopefully I don't get another round of altitude (or food) related fun.
The scenery was amazing--deserts covered in grass and rocky outcroppings, not too unlike Eastern Washington, although ringed by snow-capped volcanoes.
And then we actually started climbing. Holy god. El elevatión no es mi amigo. I was huddled in the bus, light-headed and ready to puke my guts out by the time we traveled all the windy roads to the 4900m/16,000ft point. Coca helps, eh? Pffft, my sick ass it helps. At most of the stops past the pass i stayed in the bus. I think the driver and guide were minutes from giving me oxygen, but my fingernails weren't too blue. When we got into town for lunch, I stretched out in the minibus and napped, ate some crackers, and thanked my lucky stars that I brought my Nuun along.
I was feeling better, and managed to go to the hot pools (probably not the best idea, but oh such an "experience" and the warmness was lovely) and managed to eat some soup and share some stuff with another American girl on the same tour for dinner. Then I took advil for my caffeine headache since I didn't have coffee and went to bed at 8pm. I'm such a party animal.
Waking up at 4am to body pains, an awful headache and the realization that I had definitely eaten something wrong over the previous few days is not the way to enjoy a vacation. At this point, I realized there is probably not going to be a "treck" in me anytime soon, thus meaning that I don't get to go to Mach Pichu the fun ways. However, the inclusion of chewable pepto-bismal was easily the best packing decision I made.
However, I managed to rally. I got myself moderately capable of walking downstairs, grabbed one of the hollow rolls they have here for breakfast, and avoided the jam. The long, bumpy, unpaved ride up to the canyon was not perfect, but breaks along the way made it bearable. We got to the condor point, and almost immediately two adult condors buzzed us. That was as good as it got though, and taking photos of animals that blend in rather well is hard. The guide offered a short hike along the rim of the canyon and I bucked up, went slow, took deep breaths, and went for the hike without incident.
Lunch after the rickety bus ride back to Chivay seemed impossible, but soup here is usually really good, and they had chicken noodle on the menu. This time it did seem to make me feel better. I slept over the high elevation pass thanks to some of our tour-mates taking a different onward route. They had the bulk of the luggage, and without it I claimed the back of the bus bench seat, to no complaints. I think everyone understood.
Now I am back in Arequipa with my tour friend for one more day and take the night bus to Cuzco tomorrow. Hopefully I don't get another round of altitude (or food) related fun.
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