Walking into the Sun

13 October 2010

Walking into the Sun

I was ready to get up when the sun finally started to rise around 0530 that morning. It had been a chilly night in the tent and I did not sleep nearly as well as I had the night before. It felt harder to breath that night and I don’t think it was the altitude but rather a cold I was developing. When I crawled out of the tent, I noticed there was frost covering the ground, the tents, and the backs of the pack animals grazing in the fields. I bundled up in my layers, hat and mittens and made my way to the dining tent. Everyone was beginning to emerge from their tents, sleepy eyed, and ready to finish our trek.

After another wonderful breakfast of eggs and a quinoa porridge, it was time to set off. My toes felt like ice cubes as we started out. It looked like it was going to be a beautiful day. The sky was still crystal clear and the sun was starting to light up the valley where we walked as it rose. We remained in the shadows for the first few hours while the tops of the mountains basked in the sunlight.

It would be a downhill hike for the next few hours. Although this is certainly less strenuous than hiking up to a mountain pass, going downhill uses all sorts of different muscles than going uphill. It was a loose gravel path on the way down, which did make for difficult footing on the way. It was not as easy to appreciate the views as we made our way down because the tree foliage increased and thus obscuring our vistas. There were many more pack animals to see as we walked, particularly cows. It seemed like the cows were hiding in the bushes. All of a sudden they were in the middle of the trail.

The sun was out in full force after about an hour of our hike. The temperature was also quickly increasing as we descended in elevation. It was as if we walked out of December and into June. The layers came off and the sun block went on.

Before long we were back in civilization. We came up to another group’s campsite next to preschool, which had running water, electricity and there were vehicles again! We dropped our bags and basked in the sun out in this field. As we lay there, we were greeted by chickens, ducks and a girl with some kind of congenital anomaly who was collecting food treats.

The rest of the group trickled in while we relaxed in the grass. We would have one last meal together prepared by our crew before we said goodbye. There was no need for a dining tent this time around. We sat outside at our table in the blazing sunshine. I had taken a peek in the kitchen tent earlier and saw them grazing tomatoes, chopping onions and chicken. They made a delicious meal, which as always, started with a hot soup, and this time was followed by spaghetti Bolognese and finally peaches for dessert.

All of the porters, the cooks and the guides came out after lunch to say goodbye to all of us. Erik presented them all with a tip we had all pitched in towards. Then we each got to do down the line and personally hug and thank every one of them. They really had done a fabulous job, worked tirelessly, and served us incredible food at 4000m in the mountains. The porters would return on foot back to where we had started, either to return to their families or start up with another trekking group. The cooks take about 5 trips every month with different hiking groups.

While we ate and rested at this campsite, we also got to meet the little children at the school. They too were sitting outside eating their lunch with their teacher. When we got close to where they were, they all came running over. They would stare and smile, waving and repeatedly saying, “Hola!!” They were all of the ages three to five and were absolutely adorable. These were not poor mountain children anymore, it was clear that they were more like city kids in their clean clothes, neatly combed hair, but equally as smiley and cheery.

After we said all of our goodbyes and waved to the little kids, we boarded the bus again. We made our descent further into the Sacred Valley, to just an elevation of 2700m. We had arrived at a town called Ollantaytambo. Ollantaytambo is known for some impressive Inca ruins and was the royal estate of Emperor Pachacuti who lived in the 1400s. This town is also a common starting point for those that want to hike the classic Inca trail.

Jaime lead us on a quick tour of the town which was also built in the 1400s with the homes being some of the oldest in all of South America. The town had a grid layout with cobblestone roads and aqueducts that run throughout the streets. We stopped inside one of the homes, which had a little farm of guinea pigs. They scurried around on the stone floor, eating grasses. The house cats there did not pay them much attention, clearly they all loved together harmoniously. And anyway, the guinea pigs should be more afraid of their human predators than their feline ones. After all, Guinea pig is a delicacy in Peru.

Next we took a walk up to the top of the ruins. It was ridiculously windy in this valley and the tourists were out in full force. I already missed the quiet solitude of the mountains we had been in earlier that day. We climbed up some very steep steps to get to the top of the ruins. The sand blew into my eyes so much that it was hard to enjoy the views up there. It was much more arid and dessert like in this area now, also a stark contrast to the wet and cool mountain climate.

On the way out of the ruins, someone in the group spotted a coffee shop called InkaBucks…a clever if not cheesy spoof on Starbucks. It successfully sucked us in. Richard was clearly craving a coffee as he offered to buy us all a round…finally a place that accepted credit cards too. I had a delicious milkshake made with coffee and vanilla ice cream. We all left happily sugared and caffeinated.

There wasn’t much time left to round up the group and get to the Ollantaytambo train station where we would embark on a two hour ride to the town of Aguas Caliente at the foot of Machu Picchu. There was total gridlock consisting of tour buses and local cars as we tried to leave Ollaytaytambo. So much that we almost got out and walked the rest of the way, but finally the traffic broke.

The train to Aguas Caliente was shockingly modern and lovely. In fact I will go as far as to say it was much nicer than any train I have taken in Europe. The seats were large and comfortable. The top of the car was literally all glass windows and there was a catering service that came through with a free snack and beverage. It was not exactly a speed train, though; in fact I may have been able to jog faster than this train moved. However the slow speed allowed us to appreciate the scenery on the way including mountains, glaciers and the river basin below. The train stopped at one point and I looked out my window. There was a little boy standing outside my window about 10 feet down. He motioned to me that he would like something to eat. I quickly reached into my backpack and threw down a few pieces of fruit to him. He smiled and gave me a thumbs up after he caught his prize.

When we arrived in Aguas Caliente it was already dark out. As we disembarked from our train, we noticed a beautiful train next to us called the Hiram Bingham. Erik told us that this was a luxury train service that offered direct travel between Aguas Caliente and Cusco. The interior of the train was very posh with dim lighting and servers clad in suits. It is not a cheap ride, according to their website, the prices start around $300 for a round trip ticket. This fee includes a few meals on the train, alcoholic beverages, a guided tour at Machu Picchu, and High Tea in the restaurant at Machu Picchu. (http://www.perurail.com/en/train_photos.php?id=3)

We all gawked as we walked past it and on the way to our hotel. We were quite exhausted at this point and quite smelly too seeing as we had not showered in about three days. Luckily the hotel was just a few blocks from the train station. We dropped our bags and the majority of us decided to relax our tired muscles at the local hot spring pool. They don’t call it Aguas Caliente for nothing! The hot springs did require us to walk up one more steep hill, but we pushed on ahead knowing there was a reward at the end. For three dollars we gained entrance and use of the pools. It was nothing glamorous but it was nice just to soak the tired body for awhile. The worst part was dragging oneself out and getting dressed again.

On the way back to the hotel, Dylan, Helen and I decided we’d try some of the local street food for dinner. In one busy section of the town we found a few different food stands. We started with the drink cart where a woman mixed together a bunch of different colored and flavored liquids including something hot that came out of a pot with some green reed-like plant inside of it. She told me that this drink was good for the back. It was served warm and was actually very soothing, especially on my sore throat. Next we tried some beef on a skewer topped off with a grilled potato. It was delicious, and we went back for seconds. We asked if we could find the grilled beef heart, another Peruvian delicacy, anywhere in the town, but the woman said we’d have to try in Cusco. For dessert we had rice pudding with a dark jelly like substance that was made from black corn. It was rich, filling and delicious.

It only seemed appropriate that we go out for a beer to celebrate the end of a successful trek through the mountains. We found a bar where we could sit outside and ordered up a few of the Cusquena Negra beers. It was a nice sweet dark beer. A Peruvian band set up their performance right across the street from us, and we enjoyed watching and listening. In particular, we marveled at the incredible mullet that one of the musicians was sporting. It was out of this world with long curled bangs and styled side-burns. Jonas was digging the wind instruments and approached one of the guys in the band to inquire about where he could get some of the pipes. The man said that if he returned tomorrow, he would get him a set. As the hour got late, we decided it was best to turn into the hotel. We had to get to Machu Picchu for sunrise the next morning and I still needed that shower quite badly!

The way to the top of Peru

12 October 2010

The way to the top of Peru

It was still dark out when I could first sense that the people around be were rustling about. The night had past quickly as I slept quite well on my wooden bench inside the shelter. When I emerged from my sleeping bag, I saw that everyone else was awake already, quickly and efficiently rolling up their sleeping bags and packing their belongings. We had planned to set out on our trek around 0530 that morning. We had a long day ahead of us with about eight to nine hours of trekking during which time we would summit two mountain passes.

When I walked out of the building to use the outhouse, I saw that the porters and cooks were already working away. I caught a glimpse inside the kitchen tent and saw one of the workers grating apples. After a quick squat in the outhouse, I headed into the dining tent where most of the group had already gathered with gloved hands wrapped around warm mugs of some potent hot chocolate. Before long breakfast arrived, and I could already see where the grated apples had been used…we were about to eat pancakes stuffed with homemade applesauce. It was delicious! My only complaint is that I did not get to eat at least three servings of this. In the middle of breakfast, someone noticed that the sun was coming out and the clouds were breaking. This afforded us with views of one of the glacier –topped mountain peaks in the distance. Right as we sat there at the breakfast table, the porters came over and dismantled the tent around us. Could you ask for better service? We finished our breakfast with breathtaking views of the Andes mountains.

Sitting and sipping on coffee and tea all morning was not an option that day. As soon as we were done eating, Erik reminded us that it was time to start the trek. We had a long day ahead of us and we all needed to make it to the next campsite before darkness set in. We were already leaving almost an hour after scheduled. It was time to strap on our backpacks and put one foot in front of the other.

Jaime again started the group moving at a steady pace. On the way out of Cuncani we met a family of children playing outside. Their dirty but smiling faces greeted us warmly. Jaime asked them in Quechua how old they were and they responded, “Thirteen, nine, and five.” However to look at them, one would have guessed much younger. The children were very small, perhaps genetics played a part, but I would wager that a bigger factor was their poor diet. They gladly accepted our gifts of fruit and snacks before we moved further on.

We also passed by a pack of llama on the way out of town. We had noticed all along that some of the llama in the mountains wore what looked like colorful dangling earrings. Someone finally asked Jaime what this meant, and he explained that on August 29th of every year, the Peruvians celebrated Animal Birthday. Apparently it was a day to celebrate all animals, and they were given these colorful adornments to wear.

The group separated out even more quickly into different pacts that morning, with everyone settling into their own comfortable pace. I was delighted to see that the weather was much milder that day, in fact it was perfect hiking weather: cool, partly cloudy, no rain. It was pretty desolate out there as we walked along. The most frequently encountered creature was not another human, but some kind of livestock, sometimes a llama or an alpaca; other times a cow or horse. Here and there we would cross paths with some of the Peruvians as they lead their animals through the hills.

Looking back, I have trouble remembering exactly what the summit of the first mountain pass was like, I am not sure if it was the altitude or the fact that I may have been engrossed in a good conversation. It was about three hours into our day when we reached our first pass at some where over 4000 m (13,100 ft). We did not remain too long up there, just time for a water break and a few pictures before continuing on our way. The weather had been steadily improving along the way, and we shed off layers of clothing. I felt wonderful! It was refreshing to inhale clean, cool mountain air, feel the solitude of nature and enjoy that exhilarating sensation of physical exercise.

As we came to a turn in the path, I saw a woman sitting on some rocks. She was dressed from head to toe in her traditional attire, with a particularly ornate headdress. She had a baby on her back, whom we later found was named Sandra. Baby Sandra’s hat was even more elaborate and colorful than her mothers, in fact Sandra’s head reminded me of a giant flower covered in multicolored petals. This woman had seen us slowly approaching from miles away and had decided to trek out to meet us and hopefully sell us some of her woven products. As she sat there demurely talking to Jaime she was spinning yarn out of wool with her hands. Sandra peered out of her little pouch from over her mother’s shoulder. Her two black eyes were large and inquisitive, her nose was dripping with baby boogers. She reached out for the thread her mother was dangling between her fingers. We could not resist but to buy some of this hardworking woman’s lovely items.

Further on in that same valley, we came across another community of stone houses and stonewall fences creating rustic corals. The children ran out into the path to stare curiously as we walked by. Jonas handed half of his bologna sandwich to one of the little girls. She accepted it but gave him a strange look of disgust mixed with confusion. The sandwich stayed in her hand as we continued walking. In this village area, we also saw men working in the fields, tilling the land. To do this labor, they used thick tall wooden sticks with pointy metal on the end. They bent over the land, repeatedly driving these sticks into the moist ground in order to work the fields. This is the definition of backbreaking work.

We came over a ridge in the landscape and all of a sudden, before our eyes, there was our dining tent and the porters. It was time for lunch and the sun was out. As we arrived at our lunchtime campsite, we stripped off all of our outer layers and delighted in exposing our sweaty skin to the sunlight and air. Erik ran off to take pictures. Jonas lied down on the spongy yellow grass. Helen and Dylan took their shoes off. I sat on a warm rock and took it all in.

One cools of quite fast in the mountains though, after all we were still at 4000m, and before long I had to put my long clothes back on. Jill and Richard arrived then. Jill had been muscling on at a good pace despite feeling nauseous and sick most of the day. We all sat down in the dining tent as it was time again for hot drinks. The rest of the group slowly trickled in and we eventually enjoyed another delicious hot meal, this time a potato cake with cheese and some kind of delicious yellow squash with cheese and best of all, some protein rich quinoa. Quinoa is a native grain of South American, eaten by the native people for hundreds and likely thousands of years. For a plant, it is uniquely quite rich in amino acids making it essentially a complete protein on its own. It is also high in fiber, phosphorus, magnesium and iron.

With a full stomach, we set off on the second leg of our day’s journey. I felt energized as we set off. I could see our next mountain pass looming in the distance. It was certainly intimidating at a height of 4500m (14,800 ft) with its sharp black surface etched with snow. But onward and upward we continued. Helen and I walked with Erik at the beginning, but before long, we slowed our pace as Erik, Jonas and Dylan pushed on ahead of us. They stayed within our site all along, but we decided it was better to take it on the slow side. The higher we got the harder it got. There were no switchbacks to take as we got closer to the top, just a steep incline up. Once again my lungs were burning and my legs were as heavy as lead. I just kept telling myself to take slow deep breaths and keep moving. It was even harder to start again after stopping so continuation was the only choice. Getting to that peak was more a challenge than I ever would have expected and took just as much internal focus as any long run or hard sprint.

Helen and I reached the top and Jonas, Erik and Dylan were already enjoying the views. A local man walked through the pass, likely on his way to one of the villages we already passed. We smiled at each other. Most of the snow had melted by the time we arrived on top, but I could still reach down and pick handfuls of it with my wool-covered hands. I may have been sweating on the walk up the mountain, but once on the top, it was cold and windy, surely close to freezing with the wind and dampness. It was incredible to look at the views in either direction; to behold two valleys from this high up, and feel almost close enough to reach the glaciers that were still above us.

The valley we were about to enter was probably the most spectacular we had seen so far. The sun presented its rays to the landscape as if to congratulate us on our accomplishment. We practically ran down the other side of the mountain. It was loose with gravel and so running down it gave one the feeling of skiing down a hill. All the while the sun continued to beam down on the deep blue of the glacial lake below us. A horse grazed beside the lake.

As we walked along this peaceful and stunning lake, it was hard to believe this was reality. Back in the USA with all the modern comforts of home, speed of the freeway, and bustle of the city, one often forgets that pure and unspoiled places in nature still exist. In the mountains that day, it was hard to imagine there was a world outside of this beautiful landscape. I felt rejuvenated by this scenery and this air.

The rest of the day was a downhill climb and an easy walk after getting past that summit. The views continued to be beautiful along the way with new lakes to behold, glimmering waterfalls to admire, and babbling creeks to cross. The landscape changed at one of the steeper downhill sections, and all of a sudden there were trees again. Up until then, I had been accustomed to seeing the vegetation of the upper altitudes which is short and scarce. The trees looked oddly similar to Asian Bonsai trees with reddish brown peeling bark and winding limbs. Jill said it felt like walking into an enchanted forest.

The sun began to get lower in the sky as we finally learned we were approaching our campsite. We came up upon a woman in the trail with a few llama in her pack. There was a perfectly white baby llama in front of us. She briskly walked towards us, snatched up the llama, and headed away as quickly as she had come. Further down the trail, we met up with the first western tourists we had seen in days. There were three women, two Australian and one British, who seemed to be doing the reverse trek that we had done. We chatted for a bit before both parties realized they’d better keep moving.

It was a welcome sight to see the happy orange tents laid out in the valley below us, nestled next to a cool stream and crooked old wooden house. My feet were aching by this time, and my legs were again heavy. I was tired at last. I headed right to my tent, unrolled my sleeping bag, and loosened up my muscles as I filled the bag with my body heat. It never felt so good to lay down on the hard cold ground.

The sun was just slipping past the mountainous horizon when I emerged from the tent. It was quite cold outside now and I headed straight for the dining tent. Everyone had arrived to the campsite by that time, and most were sitting inside around the dinner table. The cooks had made popcorn and we were shoving it into our mouth by the handfuls long with cookies and tea. We reminisced about the day and laughed around the table until it was time to eat again, this time a delicious beef stir-fry for dinner.

As soon as my belly was full, I filled my Nalgene bottle up with hot water to put in my sleeping bag and headed for my tent. I wanted so badly to go right to bed, but I stopped in my tracks when I caught a view of what was above me. There was not a cloud in the sky that night and the stars were piercing and bright. Had it not been for the bright half moon, I could have seen the entire Milky Way that night. But nonetheless, the stars were mesmerizing. It is not often that one is far enough from civilization to truly appreciate the beauty of the night sky. I cannot even remember the last time I was afforded this opportunity. It was worth the cold feet and hands and stiff neck to star up at that sky and ponder the universe that night.

A wet trek through the Andes

11 October 2010

A wet trek through the Andes

The sound of the alarm at 0330 was a harsh welcome to the new day. As a medical resident, I am certainly familiar with early morning wake-ups, but I still cannot remember the last time I got up that early. I took a quick hot shower, knowing that I would not get another one for the next three days and shoved a couple last things into my backpack. Helen and I left our room, carrying down our duffels and backpacks to the front lobby. Everyone in our group looked sleepy eyed and slow moving that morning, all but perhaps Erik and Jaime who always seemed full of energy.

We quietly boarded the bus in the dark and started our drive into the mountains. One of the reasons we had to leave so early is that the road we needed to take to get to our starting point for the hike would be closed after 0600 for construction. If we didn’t make it through in time, we’d be completely out of luck. We all dozed and relaxed as road through the country and mountains. The road was bumpy, graveled, and full of potholes and other obstacles so I found it hard to sleep, and perhaps I was also a little excited about the upcoming day.

As the sun was rising, we made a stop off at a small town for a bathroom break. I was starving at this point, but I figured I would hold out for the breakfast we were promised before starting the trek. It must have been around 0500 at this point, and the little town was already bustling with people walking to work and a small food market was already starting. We passed by a large parking lot where about a hundred men in bright orange suits and construction hats were congregating, ready to start working on the road we had to take.

We drove up and down mountain switchback roads as we drove along. At times we would pass into clouds at the higher elevations and the views of the valley below and the adjacent mountains were totally obliterated. I was impressed with the bus drivers skills as he deftly navigated the tight turns, avoided 10-foot deep holes in the road, and even traversed a small river. On the top of another mountain pass, we made a pit stop for a bathroom break. We all scattered to find our own spot outside. The girls had to go a bit further to get privacy; I am always envious of men when I am camping. It was cold and the wind was strong up this high, especially with a bare ass hanging in the breeze. Seriously, guys have it so easy!

Not wearing a watch, as I decided time was of no consequence this week, I don’t know how much longer it was until we reached a small town called Quisharani. We took all of our belongings with us and left the warmth of the bus behind to hop across a small stream. This town of Quisharani was more a random spattering of a few buildings and houses over the mountain valley we stood in. There were a few community buildings, one of which was obviously a schoolhouse. There were already about three women there, with their children, all dressed in the traditional Andean clothing, and selling their woven goods as well as water and sodas.

The children came up to us, some forward and curious, others more shy. Erik took a can of mixed nuts out of his bag and held the open can out towards the children. They all rushed forward to put there little hands inside. They pulled out handfuls of nuts and quickly brought them back to where their little backpacks were sitting on the ground. There they made little piles of nuts before they went back for more. These nuts were clearly the highlight of their day.

As we stood there in the muddy parking lot of the village, the rain started to pick up. It was finally time for breakfast. The porters for our trek had set up a camping table under the shelter of an overhang. They served us coca tea, bread with jam and butter and some fruit. I tried to eat as much as I could, knowing that I would need the energy for the upcoming hike.

After finishing off every banana and piece of bread, it was finally time to bundle up and start our hike. With the rain still falling, we all pulled our brightly colored plastic ponchos over our heads before we set off. Jaime led the group and kept as all moving at a slow and steady pace. I was happy to have him set the speed for now. We had not bad it very far before the horses came up upon us from behind. They easily passed us even laden down with all of our gear, along with some of the porters who walked swiftly beside them. Next came the llamas; they were not carrying quite as much gear though.

It was difficult to make out too much of the landscape ahead of us as the mountains were shrouded in fog and clouds. We hadn’t gone far before we came up on a small gathering of stone buildings with thatched roofs. This was the home of a family, and the three children were standing outside ready to greet us.

The majority of these mountain children that I saw had dirty skin and ruddy cheeks. The redness of their cheeks was not simply due to the harsh climate, but from vitamin deficiency. These kids likely have a mild form of Pellagra, also known as Vitamin B3 (niacin) deficiency. This is common in a diet comprised mainly of maize. The main signs and symptoms are dermatitis (irritated skin), diarrhea, swelling and hair loss, just to name a few. In its more severe form, this deficiency can lead to heart failure, dementia and death within 4 to 5 years. Now these children surely got some niacin in their diets and thus they presented just with the irritated skin and the swelling. As we stopped to talk to the family of children, Jaime picked up one of the girls hands and showed us how they were a bit swollen. As Jaime astutely pointed out, though, these children may have next to nothing, and live a difficult life, but they were always smiling.

As we continued our hike through the mountains, the small stone homes became more and more scarce. We still crossed paths with the locals though. As we were hiking through a valley, I looked up and saw the bright red colors of the Andean mountain dress; it was a woman probably 1000 feet above use, herding her llama or alpaca. We’d also run into men out herding their sheep or leading a pack of horses and mules carrying supplies. One man ran up to our group when he saw us, leaving his llama further down the mountain. He spoke to Jaime in Quechua, the native language of this region. Jaime shared some food with him and they appeared to have a happy and jovial conversation. The man swiftly returned to his animals and Jaime pointed out that these llama were carrying traditional hand-woven sacs filled with dried dung which would eventually be used for fuel.

As we continued to make our way through the mountains, the weather continuously changing as we walked. There was heavy rain, drizzle, sun and even hail. The clouds were fast moving. The hikers in the group had also spaced out at this point, with the faster hikers in the front, and some of the slower people an hour behind us. One girl was already suffering from some kind of gastrointestinal issues, and so she was going to be carried on a horse.

We would only summit one mountain pass on our first day at an elevation of 4200m (13,700 ft). My lungs were burning and I felt like my heart might leap out of my chest as we assented to that height. I was sweating now, so the hail didn’t even phase me. The higher we got, the more spectacular the views of the valley, mountain and lakes below. It was a relief to reach the top and revel in that accomplishment for a few minutes before pushing on further. Downhill isn’t necessarily any easier sometimes, especially when the ground is muddy and loose from the rain.

For about another two hours, we marched on, periodically stopping along the way to appreciate the gorgeous views, take photographs, or search for a spot to pee. Someone pointed out an animal that looked like a rabbit and Jaime explained that it was a chinchilla. A few minutes later another person stopped and pointed to a black animal moving on the horizon, “Look! It’s a bear! Maybe it’s the spectacled Andean bear.” Our guides were not so convinced, and sure enough, the animal started running and barking-just another pet dog.

It was a beautiful sight to finally behold our bright orange tents from a distance. They were set up in the valley at a town called Cuncani which was nestled at an elevation of 3780m (1240 feet). It was still cold and rainy and those tents looked like home. As we finally descended to our camp site, it was clear that the porters had been there probably a few hours before us. A hike through the mountains was all in a normal day’s work for them. I grabbed my duffel bag and plopped it into the tent I was to share with Helen. It was a bit disappointing to see that the floor of the tent was already soaked from the continuous rain.

Now that I had finally stopped moving, I was pretty cold. Clearly I was not alone in this sentiment, as most of us gravitated to the dining tent where we could all huddle together for warmth. They brought us boiling water and teas and hot chocolate and nothing could have been more satisfying than that. It was already about 4 o’clock by this time, but the cooks served us a late lunch anyway and so we ate river trout with rice and potatoes. It was delicious and not at all the rice and beans I expected to eat while camping.

After our late lunch, we all lingered in the dining tent, talking and getting to know each other better. Helen returned from using the outhouse, and told us that she had peeked into the long building next to it. She said that she saw a bunch of benches inside of it and proclaimed, “Why aren’t we sleeping in there out of the rain?!” Jill and Richard light up with this idea and a discussion ensued. Jill figured that we could all offer to pay $20 each to get inside of this community building and sleep there for the night. Jill, Richard and Helen hypothesized about how they could make this idea a reality. Erik told us that camping outside would make us stronger. I know some people felt differently.

Richard and Helen approached Jaime with their grand idea. Jaime spoke to one of our porters who took for the hills to visit the president of the village to ask his permission. Some time around dinner, the president finally arrived in his colorful poncho and hat. Jaime spoke to him for awhile in Quechua and finally announced that for 5 soles (less than $2) per person, we could sleep inside this building. There was not a seconds hesitation in accepting this deal and Helen fronted the money for the entire group. A big part of me felt like I was missing out on the camping experience I had been looking forward to, but with the rain still steadily falling, it was hard to give up the opportunity to sleep in a warm dry shelter.

There was no electricity inside the building so the porters dragged in a light bulb powered by kerosene. We couldn’t finally see the inside of the building, which was very rustic with a dusty concrete floor, adobe walls, and bamboo rods exposed in some parts of the roof. There were also some signs hung up on the wall covered in children’s handwriting, making it obvious that this structure was used as a schoolhouse at times.

Everyone giddily rushed into the shelter. We wasted no time setting up our sleeping bags, most of which we placed on two benches facing opposite from each other and pushed together. Jaime told us that many of the workers would be quite glad to have the opportunity to sleep in this shelter too, as many times they had to share the kitchen tent for rest. After a long tiring and wet day, it was time to lay down and a wooden bench never looked so good!

Pisac: Ruins and Market

10 October 2010

Pisac: Ruins and Market

We woke up Sunday morning and tried a little breakfast at our hotel. The Peruvians really seem to like puffed grains for breakfast. I have never seen such a variety of these grains…and in fact a few were totally unidentifiable to even this crunchy granola girl. At breakfast I learned that poor Dylan had had his camera stolen the night before. I have to say that I felt a bit guilty seeing as it was my idea to venture off into the “real” Cusco for dinner that night. He figured that it must have been taken out of his bag while we waited outside a grocery store after dinner. Unfortunately, theft seems to be one of those mishaps of traveling. In all of my travels I have never been pick-pocketed and thought myself quite the astute traveler, until I had all of my good and emotionally sentimental jewelry stolen from the Dublin airport.

After breakfast we had a meeting to discuss the specifics for our upcoming trek in the Andes. We were all given a duffel bag in which to pack no more than 5 kilograms of clothes and other items. The duffel bags had to be uniform in size so that they could be properly carried by the horses on the trek. We were advised to bring warm clothes, waterproof gear and a poncho as well. I had already realized that the Peruvian mountain weather changed quite rapidly. Jaime and Erik, who would be in charge, both warned us that it would be strenuous trek through the Andes but that we could all do it. All we had to carry on the trek were our day packs with some items we’d need during the day. The horses and porters would carry our tents, food, and duffel bags. It actually sounded more like luxury camping!

After the meeting, we took a bus to the Sacred Valley region of the Urubamba River to visit the town of Pisac which is known for its Inca ruins as well as for its large craft market. Sundays were one of the best days to go as the farmers came down from the countryside to sell their produce.

The weather was cool and damp as we left the hotel. It really felt like fall which was a welcome change from the heat and humidity of Texas. On the way to Pisac, we made a stop at a rudimentary zoo. It had a display of Peruvian animals. Llama and alpaca were plentiful. They also had some pumas and a condor, which are two sacred animals in Inca religion. I don’t recall ever seeing a condor up close in a zoo before. They are massive birds and so prehistoric looking. You can imagine them swooping through the skies during the dinosaur times. I think my favorite “pet” at the zoo was the hairless Peruvian dog. It was a short and stout dog, very muscular, with charcoal gray skin and a tuft of golden fur on its head. It was one of the strangest looking animals I have ever seen, something out of a children’s storybook illustration. The poor naked dog was shaking in the damp cold.

We finally arrived a bit later at the ruins of Pisac. These Inca ruins were thought to be built in the mid 1400s and located at the south end of the Sacred Valley. The ruins are set on top of a mountain, at about 11,000 ft elevation and the hillside that sweeps down from the ruins is lined with terraces for farming. To get up to the ruins requires a little bit of hiking up and down steep stone staircases and even through a tunnel between two boulders. The sun finally comes out once we get to the top and we can get a view of the valley below. The mountains in the area are a golden yellow color due to the grasses that cover them. The wet season has just begun in Peru, and eventually these grasses will be a lush green, but for now it still appears very arid, much like a California landscape.

We walk through the well-preserved ruins of Pisac with Jaime explaining the sites along the way. He pointed out again how perfectly the rocks of the Incan walls fit together. Some of the rocks had notches or grooves carved into them so that they would fit with those on top or bottom. Others had knob like structures that stuck out of their surfaces, and these were made in order to use logs as levers to hoist the rocks and hold them into place. Jaime also explained that the Inca people believed the rocks were alive, which comes to no surprise as this was a culture that had a great respect for nature. Jaime said that when workers were killed under one of these heavy rocks during construction that the rocks became even more special and the spirit of these men were incorporated into the rock as well.

From one of the hilltop views we could see across a valley to another mountainside. The earth on that mountain was an orange red. Jaime pointed out the holes in that mountainside. These were old burial chambers for mummified Incas. All of the sites had been looted of their gold and precious items by now, but it was still the resting site of many bodies. Some of the burial holes were supported by more of the perfectly constructed Incan walls; these would have been the burial sites for the important people of this village.

After some more exploration of the site, we started to make our way back to the bus to get over to the Pisac market. The hike back to the bus was actually just as rigorous as the hike to the ruin site. I kept up with Erik, who has an incredible fitness level, most of the way but I have to admit my lungs were burning when it came to the really steep switchback section. Overall I did not really think the altitude was getting to me, but when my body really had to exert itself, it was definitely struggling more than at sea level. The shortness of breath came on much more quickly and forcefully.

Before long, we were disembarking our bus in the main town of Pisac, just outside the market. It was immediately reminiscent of a traditional Mayan mountain market I had visited with my family this winter in Guatemala. The town of Pisac is in the valley and so while one walks through the cobblestone streets, one is always aware of the high mountains that close in above from almost all angles.

The group decided to stop at a restaurant for lunch that Jaime recommended. Jonas and I decided we were going to eat some of the street food at the market. On the way to find the food market section, we passed through dozens of stalls containing brightly colored textiles. There was a variety of wall tapestries, rugs, sweaters, hats, gloves, ponchos and bags made of hand woven wool or alpaca fibers. The shopping would come later, food always takes first priority in my world.

We easily found the food and produce section of the market. There were rows and rows of women selling a colorful assortment of fruits and vegetables, fish, meat and even dyes. There was a particularly large variety of different kinds of potatoes and maize. In fact one woman had a basket with a rainbow assortment of corn. Most of these women had come from the adjacent mountains and fields. It’s interesting that in the US, “local” food has been a novel concept, which requires a person to go out of their way to find a farmers market or a Whole Foods. But in the rest of the world, local food is just the norm.

Many of the women at this market likely would have carried their goods either on their backs or on pack animals if they were not fortunate enough to have access to a vehicle. They were all wearing the traditional Andean mountain clothes. They wore wool sweaters on top and knee length skirts on the bottom. Many also wore what I can best describe as woven wool leg warmers, rubber sandals for shoes and bolero hats on their heads. There were some that wore even more traditional clothing which consisted of vibrantly colored woven fabrics and equally bold woven hats. Their long dark hair was secured back in thick perfect braids. Sometimes just one, but usually two braids, which they tied together at the bottom forming a U-shape on their back.

This section of the market was just bustling with activity as the Peruvians made their way through the different produce, haggling over a good price or offering a barter. Many of the women did this with one baby strapped to their back and another young child in tow. The women making the sales had their little children help them count out the number of onions they’d sell, or deal with the change. These kind of markets must foster a great sense of community and offer a somewhat rare opportunity for people who live in remote mountain villages to congregate with their “neighbors.”

After Jonas and I walked around a bit, we spotted a lady eating a plate of food at her food stand that looked delicious. We asked her where she got it from, and she pointed to one of the nearby food tents. Jonas and I squeezed in on the bench with the Peruvians and ordered a plate that was filled with rice, lamb, some carrots, and something like a maize porridge. It was fast, cheap, and delicious and the people watching we got to do while eating was priceless. Halfway through eating, a little boy and his parents sat down on the bench next to me. He looked about 5 years old and his parents also ordered him a heaping plate of food. He could barely see over the plate while he happily ate it, accidentally dragging the arm of his sweater in it when he reached for something.

After lunch, I spent a lot of time just photographing and watching the market go by. The colors were mesmerizing and I was fascinated by the unique faces that walked past me, each one etched with a different set of lines. I finally made my way to the textile stalls and picked up some warm glove/mittens and a hat for the trek. I was beginning to realize that the weather in Peru was going to be a lot cooler than what I had expected. I also found some unique and beautiful souvenirs as well. The woven items were most impressive, and I particularly liked the ones that were made with wool colored only with organic dyes from plants and insects.

Further into the market I found a middle-aged woman sitting on the ground with a small amount of woven products laid out on a blanket in front of her. She was working as she sat there, making what looked like a belt, with one end of this makeshift loom attached to the “neighbor’s” market stall, and the other side attached to her waist. I stopped to look at her items and she gave me an easy, warm smile. I tried to ask her how much some of them cost, and it was clear that she did not speak Spanish. She looked over my shoulder and made eye contact with a man behind me who came out and translated for her. This woman was one of the roughly 13% of people in Peru who speak only Quechua. This is the language that was present before the Spaniards invaded.

I felt like I had only seen a fraction of the market before it was all of a sudden time to leave Pisac. Two hours was not enough time for me to wander through this market. Markets are one of my favorite things about visiting a new place…whether it’s a Christmas market in Germany, a fish market in Taiwan, or an art market in Brazil, there is so much to learn about the culture of the country just from this microcosm. But alas, we did have a big day ahead of us on Monday. We needed to return to Cusco so that we could begin to prepare for out three-day trek in the Andes which would start at 0400 that next morning. This was the part of the trip I was most looking forward to…some fresh air, exercise and an adventure out in nature.

Ten Thousand Feet Up in Peru with Caco, Elvis and the Love Taxi

9 October 2010

Ten Thousand Feet Up in Peru with Coca, Elvis and the Love Taxi

After what seemed like a long respite from international travel, I finally got the chance to embark on another journy. The destination this time, Peru, and ultimately, Machu Picchu. I left Houston, TX on a six and a half hour direct flight on Friday night. Arriving into Lima, Peru around 2230 at night. Earlier that day I had arranged a last minute hotel room near the airport. My only intention was to sleep for a few hours before having to return to the airport for a 0730 flight. The hotel had gotten some pretty terrible reviews online but I figured I could handle anything for a few hours, it was cheap, and at least I had a male friend to travel with.

My friend from Connecticut (by way of Costa Rica), Jonas, was waiting at the airport when I arrived. The Hostal Caribe had promised me via email that they would be waiting at the airport arrivel with a sign bearing my name. Jonas and I walked quite a few laps around that arrival hall until we were quite sure there was no little Peruvian man holding a sign with my name on it. After a bit of bargaining in Spanish, we got a taxi cab to the hotel.

It certainly was not anything glamourous, and was in a very "local" part of town. The room was basic but it served the purpose. At 2330 at night, the neighborhood boys were still outside playing football. The Spanish music played in the distance and the shadows of the mountains loomed beyond the city lights.

I can not say that it was a good night sleep. Even with my earplugs on, I frequently awoke to the sound of moving furniture, a crying baby, and other routine street noise. When my alarm went off at 0600, the roosters were crowing outside louder than I'd ever heard, especially in the middle of a city of 9 million people. I took a peek outside and down on the street below was a white cab with a red heart logo painted on the roof, hood of the car, and both doors. Under the windshield wiper I could make out a sign which read, "Kate Whitehou." Apparently my hotel taxi had finally arrived, only about 8 hours off schedule, but at least they brought the love taxi to make me feel special.

Jonas and I quickly gathered our things and left the hotel. The cab driver was a friendly guy and he explained that he had looked for us the night before, but had left after not finding us. He took us to the airport for the same low rate, so it all worked out. He asked how long we would be in Peru, and he answered that one week was not enough.

It was a short flight from Lima to Cuzco. On the flight, I met half a dozen other people who would also be in my tour group. Yes, for the first time since highschool, I had joined up with a tour group. It just made more sense to hike and camp with a group rather than alone. Frankly, I also did not have the time to make all the arrangements on my own either. It just so happened, that the price and dates that worked out best for me, out of the hundreds of Machu Picchu trips I found, ended up being on a "Singles" trip. It felt a little cheesy to me as I never thought of myself cruising a singles trip, but I decided to keep an open mind. At least this guaranteed that I wouldn't be with a bunch of boring, old married people.

Everyone was really friendly on the plane...there were people from all over the country in our group...New York City, California, New Jersey, a Brit living in Boston, an Aussie living in NYC, a Chinese living in Toronto, and a few other from various states, even a "neighbor" from Austin, TX. After landing in Cuzco we met up with our tour guide, Erik, who has his own business called Erik's Adventures; we headed to our hotel.

Cuzco is a beautiful town filled with both Inca and Spanish colonial architecture that sits at an elevation of 10,860 ft above sea level, nestled in the Andes Mountains. Everyone had been talking about altitude sickness. Some people brought along prescription medicine, Diamox. The tourguide, Erik, told us that we should stay well hydrated and that we would have some Coca tea when we got to the hotel.

Coca tea is made by steeping the dried leaves of the Coca plant, yes, the same plant from which Cocaine is derived. This plant has been a part of the Andean culture for centuries. It is not as bad as it sounds, per Wikipedia, "the alkaloid cocaine is found in the amount of about 0.3 to 1.5%, averaging 0.8%, in fresh leaves. When chewed, coca acts as a mild stimulant and suppresses hunger, thirst, pain, and fatigue. Absorption of cocaine from the leaf is much less rapid and efficient than from the purified forms of cocaine, and it does not cause the euphoric and psychoactive effects associated with use of the drug." They claim that chewing or making a tea with the leaves will help altitude sickness. All it did was make me feel jittery. The leaves also play a role in the spiritual beliefs of the area, "Coca leaves play a crucial part in offerings to the apus (mountains), Inti (the sun), or Pachamama (the earth). Coca leaves are also often read in a form of divination analogous to reading tea leaves in other cultures." Our Peruvian tour guide, Jaime (pronounced Hi-may) tells us about these rituals.

After settling in, we have a group Peruvian lunch which consists of a chicken stock soup with potatos, followed by a potato like croquette, then I had lamb served with rice and a yuca. I felt completely carb loaded. Outside the restaurant, we stood on the street corner and admired the beautiful central square of Plaza de Armas, which is lined by multiple large churches and other colonial and Incan buildings. A teenaged boy comes up to us in attempts to sell some "paintings." He told me that I could buy it for one of my lovers. After realizing he isn't going to get a sale, he just chats with us. His name was Elvis and his English was quite good. He says he wants to be a tourguide some day after college and says he learned English by selling crafts to tourists, a trade he began at age seven. He asked me if I was looking for peace and quiet. I said that of course I was. He said, "Ok, well good, I am Peace and I have a brother named Quiet." That was a novel pickup line to me!

A bit further down the street I met another salesman named Elvis as well. He approached me by asking if I sprechen zie Deutch. He said he thought I looked more German than American. I asked him if Elvis was a common name here as I had just met another Elvis. He said no!! in a very surprised way. He was skeptical that there was another Elvis around here. He asked me if Elvis was popular in the US. I said well yes, Elvis Presley. He did not know who that was! He said he hated his name, Elvis, but it was his parents' choice and not his own.

When the group finally formed, we went out on a tour around Cuzco. We visited a museum containing paintings and old Inca architecture. We also took the bus further out of the valley and up to the mountains where we visited a few different Inca ruin sites. Jaime explained the thought process behind the building of these structures. How far the basalt was brought from, how each piece was chiseled or carve to fit the next. The Incas built their walls to withstand earthquakes by slanting the walls inward at an angle as well as making trapezoidal windows and doors. It was impressive how seamlessly these huge rocks fit together. You couldn't even slide a piece of tissue paper between them.

From higher up at the ruins we got a great view of the city below in the valley of the Andes. I guess the coca tea wasn't working that well because I did feel a bit lightheaded even further up now. It was subtle, but I did feel it. I also felt much more winded with my heart beating faster than normal from just a short upward hike. I was glad we would have a few days to settle in and acclimate before our four day trek to Machu Picchu at an even higher elevation.

Later that night, a bit exhausted from the day and the altitude, Jonas and I still dragged ourself out for some dinner with a few of the tour mates. We went with Helen, my assigned roommate, and British woman from Boston, as well as the guy who lives in Austin. I decided that we should leave the tourist area and try some authentic restaurant. After a 10 minute walk we found ourselves in the "real" Cuzco. Busy streets filled with smoggy air, small shops selling all sorts of junk from thong underwear, to shoe soles, to gaudy curtains. We finally found a hole in the wall restaurant offering a 2 course meal for three and a half sols (the equivalent of just over ONE US dollar!) The meal wasn't half bad either but I feel like I was making out with a car exhaust pipe. Luckily, there is no time zone change for me, but after a busy day at high altitude and a terrible sleep in Lima. I am ready for bed.