Voiceless in Lima with the Charlie Chaplin Rats

16 Oct 2010

Voiceless in Lima with the Charlie Chaplin Rats

I didn’t have the sense that I had slept at all when the alarm went off around 4:30 in the morning. I pried my tired body out of bed, threw on the clothes I had left out a few hours before. I was still stuffing the last few items in my bag when the front desk called up to see where I was as the other early morning travelers in my group were ready to go. Helen was sleeping comfortably in bed, not leaving until the 11am flight, and I was very jealous. I lugged my two backpacks down to the lobby as fast as I could. As I said good morning to everyone and goodbye to Erik, I realized that I literally had no voice. Total laryngitis had set in.

Half a dozen of us all piled into the tour bus one last time and headed to the airport. It was a quiet thirty-minute ride as most of us were exhausted, hung-over, recovering from a stomach bug, or a combination of the above. The check-in process for Peruvian Air was quick and painless and before long we were making our way through security. It was refreshing to move through an airport that wasn’t as uptight and dramatic as the American airports in the aftermath of George Bush’s amazing little idea called Homeland Security. These Peruvian security guards didn’t make a big deal if you still had 200ml of water in your Nalgene bottle. If it had been in the US, they would have made you dump the water out, as drinking is apparently forbidden in line, and then go all the way through the scanner again.

Jonas was nice enough to buy me some herbal tea with his last soles as we waiting to board our one-hour flight to Lima. I was trying to speak as little as I could at this point to avoid straining my voice any further. The flight was barely even half full when we finally got on the plane. I had visions of how the 11am flight would probably also be full of empty seats too and wished I was still sleeping in the hotel room. Before I had very long to contemplate this thought, my breakfast arrived. Breakfast was a mixed fruit ensemble served with a sandwich containing a slice of ham and a slice of roast pork…a Jewish person’s worst nightmare, but luckily for me, Atheism poses no food restrictions. Although a strange combination, it went down all right followed by more tea. Somehow I had decided that hot beverages were my solution to laryngitis. It wasn’t working yet.

It wasn’t long before we were touching down in Lima. I was the only one who would be spending time in the city, as the others were connecting on to their flights home. Jaya, having a short connection time, rushed off as fast as she could once her bags came off the beltway. Brian had already boarded a flight to Ecuador to continue with another week of traveling there. Lynn was headed back to California. Jonas, always a calm soul, wasn’t at all worried about getting to his flight back to Costa Rica even if it was leaving in 40 minutes. I was sad to say goodbye to him as he had been a great travel buddy all week! I was also jealous that he would be back home in Costa Rica in a few hours where as I wouldn’t get back to my own bed until the next morning.

When Jonas and I had left Lima for Cusco, now almost a week ago, the driver of the Love Taxi had asked for my return flight information. He promised he would be waiting there for me when I returned. As I walked out of the airport, sure enough, right in the front, I saw him standing there with a sign bearing my name, again misspelled, but nonetheless he was there! He had a big smile across his face when he saw me and he quickly ushered me out to his heart-adorned taxi. He was eager to chat with me and hear all about my time in Peru. This conversation his hindered by a few things: my poor Spanish, his broken-English, and finally my laryngitis. I barely squeaked out the name of the hotel where I was headed. I was going the Marriott downtown. Helen had booked a room there for the following two nights and we all planned to meet there later that morning. She told me that if I was able to get in, she didn’t mind me hanging out in her room either.

The forty-minute cab ride to the hotel was filled with conversation, even despite the aforementioned speech obstacles. My cab driver was very concerned about my voice. He wanted to take me to the nearest pharmacy to get medicine. I told him not to worry, that I was myself, “un médico” so I knew how to care for myself and would get medicine later. He was very excited when he learned I was a doctor and said he had a story to tell me about an interesting medical study. So in Spanish he launched into this long story about the Charlie Chaplin rats. From what I could understand, the Charlie Chaplin rats were fed different diets, some lots of cheese and fats, and other a normal healthy diet. As one would expect, some became fat and others were thin. I was getting the feeling that this might be a joke with a punch line more than a serious story. He re-told the story to me at least three times, hoping that it would finally make sense. Earlier, I had told him that my brother, Gordon, was fluent in Spanish from living in the Dominican Republic. He finally said, “Katy!! Call your hermano!” Yes, he wanted me to call Gordon in the US so that he could translate this wondrous and amazing story. I passed on that one.

The Love Taxi driver pointed out different sites and neighborhoods along the way as we drove through Lima. Eventually we came to the part of the road that hugs along the Pacific Coast. He stopped and pulled the car over in a ditch on the side of the road and insisted that I get out and see the views of the ocean. As we got closer to the downtown, he once again pulled the car over into a park so I could see the views of Lima along the coast. He offered to give me a tour of the city later on, but I told him I needed sleep more than anything else.

As we neared the Marriott hotel, he asked me when I would be returning to the airport that night as he could return to give me a ride. I told him that I might have up to five friends with me and wondered if this would be a problem for fitting everyone in. He inquired as to whether they were fat or thin people. I said they were all small like me. He laughed and said in Spanish, “Not like me! Like Papa Noel!!” And then he laughed with a chuckle just as jolly as Santa’s. In fact we both had a good laugh at that joke, even I got the punch line this time.

He said our “adios” at the entrance of the Marriott. It was almost strange to walk into such a fancy hotel after sleeping in tents and basic hotels for the last week. It felt grand and extravagant. Luckily the staff all spoke English and I approached the first available front desk worker. I explained to her that there was a room under my friend Helen’s name but I was arriving before her and would like to check in. She typed away on her computer for awhile and eventually responded that she did not see any mention of my name on the reservation and that before she would let me in the room, I would have to have Helen call or email her first. All of a sudden the wonderful fantasy of lying down to take a nap was slipping out of my grasp.

I walked away from the desk and went outside for a moment. I realized there was no way I was going to be able to contact Helen as she was probably boarding the airplane that moment, and even if she wasn’t, what were the chances she would have her phone turned on anyway? I, however, was not ready to claim defeat. I went back inside to that same woman and explained the situation, that Helen was on the airplane right now. I told her that I really didn’t feel well, the evidence apparent in my awful sounding voice, and that I would be happy to give her a credit card to hold the room until Helen arrived. I am not sure if she finally took pity on my pathetic sounding voice, or if “credit card” was the magic word. Moments later, she was handing me the keys to the room and I was overjoyed. The room couldn’t have been more comfortable or lovely, and for the next two and a half hours, I took a glorious nap in Helen’s room.

I awoke later to the sound of knocking on the hotel room door. Standing outside were Helen, Dylan, Jill and Richard, fresh off the plane. It was already about 2pm and we were all starving. After dropping their bags, we left in search of lunch. Right across from the Marriott, is not only the shoreline, but a big multi-level shopping promenade and tons of restaurants. Disappointingly, many of the restaurants were American chains like TGI Fridays and Chilis. Places I would never even eat at when home, much less dine at while in a foreign country. We decided to go to a restaurant called Mangos, which had huge decks overlooking the ocean. We enjoyed a leisurely lunch there while reminiscing a bit more about our week in Peru. I tried a ceviche, which is the national dish of Peru, and thoroughly enjoyed it. However for the cost of my one fancy meal in Lima, I could have bought a dozen orders of chicharrón back in Cusco.

After our late lunch, we meandered around the shopping area a bit. It was very modern and looked just like any outdoor shopping mall that one might see in the US or Europe. The waterfront area of Lima reminded me a lot of the waterfront area of Rio de Janeiro. For Peru being a developing country, it had a very modern and seemingly wealthy capital city. We stopped in at a coffee shop there that would have fit in just as well in Seattle as it did in Lima. There was even free wifi and we all checked our emails and Facebook, realizing we had been pretty cut off from these modern habits for the whole week. I sent a message to Jonas who was already safely back in Costa Rica!

We met up with Tom, the Australian guy in our group, after we finished our coffee. We figured we should take a little stroll around Lima before to see it a bit before it was time to fly back home that night. Dylan consulted his travel guide and found a good area to go, not far away that would have an art market and flea market occurring. I made a pit stop along the way at a pharmacy to pick up some anesthetic throat lozenges as well as some numbing mouth ointment for the four of five canker sores I was now nursing. Yes, my immune system had completely disintegrated.

The art and flea market was situated in the middle of a flower park which was swarming with stray cats. We perused through many of the same souvenirs we had seen throughout our trip, along with some Peruvian antiques, and eventually found a whole area of paintings. This too, reminded me very much of a similar market I had visited in the Ipanema neighborhood of Rio de Janeiro. We haggled down with one of the vendors and got some nice little paintings for less than $10.

Our attention was drawn to a crowd of people in the park standing in a circle with load Latin music emanating from the center. As we approached, we saw that the people were standing and sitting around a small circular amphitheater. On the floor for of this amphitheater were dozens of mostly elderly or middle-aged couples dancing salsa, meringue or whatever the music dictated. When the song changed, the couples would switch out, making room for other dancers, or just swapping partners. They couldn’t have looked more content and happy to be out there dancing on this balmy Saturday night. I could have stood there for hours watching them dance as their happiness was infectious. It was so wonderful to see people out of their homes, being active on a dance floor, meeting their neighbors instead of sitting inside, alone, on a couch watching TV as we Americans tend to do on most nights.

All of a sudden, we realized that it was time to start heading to the airport. Richard and Jill grabbed a cab off the street as Richard had the first flight back to the US. Dylan and I would go back to the hotel and meet up with Mr Love Taxi himself to get our ride to the airport as we were both on the same flight back to Texas. When we walked up to the hotel, there he was, waiting with a smile on his face again. Dylan and Helen laughed at finally seeing this heart-decorated taxi and the jolly man who drives it. Dylan and I said goodbye to Helen and Tom, both of whom were staying the night in Lima. I was sad to say goodbye to Helen, as she had been such a wonderful roommate and now a friend.

On the way to the airport, Dylan and I were entertained by the broadcast of a Catholic mass, followed by same Christian rock song played on repeat a dozen times. Towards the end of the ride, the cab driver asked Dylan if he spoke any Spanish. When Dylan said he spoke a little, he launched into the story of the Charlie Chaplin rats again! I laughed while Dylan was subjected to the story I had told him about. Even with both of us trying to wrap our minds and our crappy Spanish around this story, we still couldn’t really understand it. As we said approached the Lima airport, the cab driver once again told me to call my brother for translation. Finally, as we said goodbye, he asked for my email and my brothers email so that he could send us the story that way. He gave me his business card, and finally I learned his name, Manuel Angel Rojas Farfán. His business card was decorated with a pictures of Jesus Christ herding some lamb and it said, “Jehova es mi pastor” in large bolded font. It even had a few Bible excerpts on the back of the card. His card promised, “Dios-Patria-Trabajo-Seguridad-Puntualidad-Garantia” and apparently he was also an “Agente Pastoral de los Centros Penitenciarios del Peru.” Manual was quite the jack of all trades.

Manuel parked the taxi and walked us to the door of the airport, pointing to the Continental desks for us. We shook hands goodbye, and be promised he would be in touch via email to my brother. As I was flying with my dad’s frequent flier miles, I was offered entrance to the VIP airport lounge when I checked my bags. I asked the man if he would allow my friend in as well, and he happily obliged. Dylan and I got halfway through security when we realized we had to pay a Peruvian airport departure fee that was much higher than we had thought. We scrounged out every last bit of Peruvian and American currency we could find to gather enough money to cover both of us. The woman at behind the glass seemed amused as she watched us digging through our bags, but eventually we did come up with all the money we needed.

It was a nice way to end our trip by pampering ourselves in the VIP lounge. We sipped on fresh squeezed orange juice, pastries, small sandwiches and fresh fruit while lounging in leather chairs or checking our email. We even took a few minutes to lie down on the resting room where they have reclining leather chairs and blankets to nap. I was really enjoying myself there and didn’t feel ready to board the plane when a woman walked into the room and said that the flight to Houston was boarding. It was finally time to head back to reality. We had experienced all realms of Peru from country to city to luxury and enjoyed them all.

Happy Endings in Cusco

15 October 2010

Happy Endings in Cusco

I had hoped to sleep in late on Friday morning back in Cusco, but it turns out that my body was getting used to the pre-sunrise waking time. It was nice to take my time in the morning and have a bit of relaxation time after all of the hiking we had done during the week. I went downstairs to breakfast and enjoyed about three rounds at the buffet breakfast, eating my fill of puffed cereals and yogurt.

As I was walking back to our room, I could tell that the sun was shining brightly and the air felt warmer. I quickly changed into a comfortable dress and decided to continue embracing this relaxed vacation feeling.

We got a late start out of the hotel that morning, but eventually Jaya, Helen, Dylan, Jonas Brian and I all decided we’d take a walk down to the large craft market in Cusco to get our last few gifts and souvenirs. As we all ambled down the cobblestone streets together, it did feel as if we had known each other for longer than a week. Camping with strangers will make you fast friends, or enemies, I suppose, but luckily we all got along quite well.

The craft market was on the outskirts of the main part of town and as we walked along, we all realized that we were hungry for lunch. It was finally time to try the Chicharrón! I had been eying this delicious looking food up since we had first seen it and smelled it on our very first day in Cusco. Chicharrón is deep-fried pork belly and pork rind. One street in Cusco has a whole line of these eateries, most not much more than a whole in the wall. We chose the one with the most tables so we could all fit inside. Everyone ordered Chicharrón, except vegetarian Jaya who was forced to watch us eat. In a few minutes out came plates filled with hot crispy pork, fried potatoes, and large pieces of corn kernels. This was topped with thinly sliced onions and limes. We could barely finish and it all cost less than 5 dollars. There’s nothing like eating where the locals eat!

At the large indoor craft market, we all split up and searched for our Peruvian treasures. I picked up a few more hand-woven woolen Peruvian caps and found a lovely stone and silver pendant. Jonas was searching for a woven in which to back to take his belongings back to Costa Rica. Dylan had his eye out for chess sets, of which they had many different types; my favorite was the one where the Incas play the Spanish Conquistadors. Helen seemed to be shopping for everything; she made her way through those stalls like a pro, bargaining her best deal.

For the past few days we had all talked about how great it would be to get massages when we returned to Cusco. After we had our fill of the market, we all headed back to the main square and Brian took us to a massage parlor where he’d enjoyed a massage earlier in the week. One of the masseuses was standing out on the corner, beckoning in the passersby, and she recognized Brian right away. We all went inside and decided that if six of us were getting massages, we’d better get a good deal. The managing lady quickly agreed to take 10 soles off the price of the massage for all of us. Some chose to do the Inca massage which consisted of full body massage and hot stone therapy, and us girls decided that we wanted to do two treatments: full body massage and foot reflexology. The price was equivalent to that of the Inca massage and would last an hour and a half.

The three guys stayed in the building where we negotiated price, but there wasn’t room for all of us there, so the manager walked us around the block to another place. We went up two flights of stairs through what seemed like a small inn. There were a few rooms with massage tables set-up. The three of us would share a room. There were three beds crammed into the tiny room with bright hunters orange colored fleece curtains separating the beds. We all got undressed and settled in to wait for our massages. I wasn’t quite sure how the masseuses would even fit into the room, but they did manage to squeeze in between the beds to do the massage. For the next hour we enjoyed a nice massage, however my girl left at one point to take a phone call from what seemed to be the boss lady and there was some sort of discussion about the price we were paying for the massage. The three ladies all finished massaging us at the same time and walked out. At this point, we realized that only one hour had passed. I turned to Helen and Jaya and said, “So does this mean they will come back and do the reflexology foot massage?” We were all confused as to what was going on as it was clear they were not going to return.

One of the girls finally came into the room again and together, the three of us, in our poor broken Spanish, tried to inquire about the situation. They were asserting that we had gotten all the treatments that we had asked for, but we maintained that if so, we still had another 30 minutes left of the massage. They were clearly confused, and we refused to pay the full price, so they got on the phone with the boss again. In a few minutes she popped in the room. She continued in telling us that we had gotten our full package. It took some persistence and pushing, but finally she realized she wasn’t going to pull the wool over the eyes of these gringas! At last she agreed to have the girls come back and finish the remaining thirty minutes of our massage. No hard feelings; we still enjoyed it.

By that time, it was around 4pm, and a perfect time for coffee. We all dropped our things at the hotel and met at a fancy little European style café down the street from our hotel. We enjoyed lattes, cakes, brownies and gelatos, chatted, and watched Jonas and Dylan play chess. Before long the sun was beginning to set and we realized we needed to head back to the hotel to get ready for our last night with the group.

For the final night in Cusco, Erik had arranged a group dinner at a Peruvian restaurant that included some kind of live performance. The sixteen of us plus Erik and a few of the guides convened in the lobby at 7pm and proceeded to walk to the restaurant together. On the way there, Jonas and I ran into no other than Elvis! This was the teenager that we had met the first day in Cusco who was trying to sell us his paintings. He knew us immediately and started walking with us. He smiled and sweetly said to me, “I have a feeling today I will make a sale with you!” How can a person say no to that? He worked the sale with Jonas as we continued our walk and they bargained outside the restaurant while the rest of us took our seats. When Jonas returned he said, “Elvis is waiting for you, Kate!” I knew it was my turn to give Elvis a sale. I went out and there he was. I told him that I only wanted to buy a painting that he had done himself. He flipped through his little portfolio and showed me about 30 oil and watercolor paintings that either he or his friends and family had done. These street vendors in Peru all sell very similar paintings, likely copies of more famous ones, but they were still hand done. After flipping through the options a few times I finally settled on a brightly colored painting of Peruvian women working in the field. Elvis assured me he was giving me a special price. I asked him to sign the painting and he wrote “With Love from Elvis.” After we finished our transaction he told me that I looked pretty tonight and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

Back inside the restaurant, we lined up behind other international tourists for the Peruvian buffet. This restaurant is clearly a place that caters to large tour groups. The food selection was broad and included most of the Peruvian delicacies like ceviche, potato salads, alpaca and even guinea pig. The guinea pig came deep-fried and was actually quite delicious. I would say it most closely reminded me of duck. While we ate multiple servings from the buffet, we sipped on Pisco Sours, the national drink of Peru, and watched a show on stage. First there was a Peruvian band, which performed some local music as well as a famous classical music medley complete with Mozart, Beethoven and music from the opera, Carmen. Sadly there were no amazing mullet-wearing in the band though. After the music performance, there were multiple dance numbers with the dancers wearing costumes that became more and more elaborate with each dance.

As we finished our desserts, Erik asked us who was feeling up to a continuation of the party. About half the group was either still sick or just exhausted, and so we said goodbye to them, as the rest of us would head out to the bar. Some people, including myself, were leaving the hotel at 5am to catch the early flight back to Lima and others would wait until the 11am flight. After we said all of our goodbyes, Erik walked us to one of the clubs he seems to frequent when he comes to Cusco.

The club was packed with tourists and locals alike. The night started out with salsa music and we all took turns dancing with each other, most of us clumsily stepping on each other’s feet. The Cusquena beers kept flowing and the lights were turned down as the music changed from salsa to everything from hip-hop, to techno, to an ABBA medleys. By the end of the week, I had started to develop some kind of upper respiratory infection and was beginning to cough a lot. I was having such a good time dancing and celebrating with everyone, that I was easily convinced to stay out later than I had planned. The bar was clearly not closing anytime soon, but around 3am we finally decided to head back to the hotel. As we walked back, I realized that I had nearly lost my voice at that point. All of that screaming to be heard in the loud bar on top of some kind of virus had really irritated my vocal cords. Nonetheless, it was worth it to stay out and live it up for one last night in Peru with these fun people I had met before I had to go back to the harsh reality of my residency lifestyle. Back at the hotel, I got ready for bed as quickly as I could and lied down for a short nap before wake up at 5am.

The Lost City of the Incas

14 October 2010

The Lost City of the Incas

The harsh sound of the telephone awoke me from sleep around 4:30 that morning. It seemed I had barely lain down to sleep and now it was already time to drag my tired body out of bed for another full day of hiking. Machu Picchu was the main reason I had always wanted to visit Peru, and now it was finally time to see this amazing old city. We were leaving the hotel early that morning so that we could appreciate the sunrise from atop Machu Picchu. Clearly we were not the only ones with this idea though. As we briskly walked to the bus stop for Machu Picchu, I could see the long line of tourists waiting to be shuttled to the top of the ruins.

Machu Pichu sits at 2,430 metres (7,970 ft) above sea level and one can either hike up or take a bus for a few dollars. The vast majority of people opt for the bus which is fast and efficient. It takes hundreds of tourists a day up and down a switchback road named after the American who rediscovered Machu Picchu, Hiram Bingham. Before long we are filing off the bus and scrambling to get in another queue. We were trying to get a stamp on our ticket which would allow us to hike up to the top of one of the mountain ridges that surrounds Machu Picchu. Only a few hundred people are allowed to hike this trail per day, so the early risers are the only lucky ones to get in. We managed to get the last few stamps before they ran out.

Once we got through the entrance gates, we quickly headed upward. The sun was just about to peak up over the mountains and we wanted to get to one of the terraces overlooking Machu Picchu ruins as fast as we could. It was a quick but strenuous walk up narrow stone staircases through thick vegitation to get up there. We had to dodge some out of shape tourists along the way. It may have only been about 5:30 in the morning by then, but the sun was already getting strong and warm.

All of a sudden it seemed that we were free of most of the other tourists and the views were open again. Helen, Jonas, Erik, Dylan and I were the first of our group to get to the top. We were now standing on some of the upper terraces of Machu Picchu that look down on the rest of the old city. There was a stillness still in the air at that time of the morning. The sunrays were practically bursting above the ridge of the mountains and the sunlight was filling up the valley below it. I love how the sun has such clarity to it that early in the morning. It saturated the rest of the world in rich colors. We furiously snapped pictures of the pristine ruins below, and of each other standing in front of them with arms wide open. The whole group finally showed up and we all stood together for a group shot above Machu Picchu. It felt like we were celebrating something…perhaps the culmination of a rigorous hike through the Andes…but it was enough just to celebrate the beauty of this ancient city below us.

Once we had all of the pictures out of the way, it was time for Jaime to lead us on a guided tour of the ruins. For the next three hours we walked in and around the ruins of Machu Picchu through what would have been old homes, kitchens, religious centers and garden terraces. Along the way we learned the history of this beautiful place.

Machu Picchu was built by the Incas in and around the early 1400s, as an estate for the emperor Pachacuti, during the height of the Inca Empire. Jaime pointed out, as we looked from above, that an entire mountain ridge would have had to be removed to create the unnatural plateau atop which the city sits. It is incredible to think that these people removed a large mountain ridge before the time of explosives.

As grand as Machu Picchu is, it was unfortunately only inhabited for about 100 years. It is believed that the Incas fled this lovely city in hopes of hiding it from the invading Spanish Conquistadors. The city was essentially lost from the 1500s until the early 1900s when Yale history professor, Hiram Bingham, rediscovered it.

Hiram Bingham traveled to Peru for years in search of the Inca city of Vilcabamba. He believed this to be the great, lost city of the Incas. While traveling with a local guide in the Sacred Valley region, a young Quechua boy led them to the site of Machu Picchu. A few locals were living in some of the ruins at that time and much of the site was overgrown with jungle. Once he discovered it, Bingham undertook an excavation of the site and it was restored closely to its former splendor. He referred to it as the “Lost City of the Incas.” In 1913, National Geographic devoted an entire edition to Machu Picchu and so it became known worldwide. Bingham collected many artifacts which are still at Yale University today. The Peruvian government is fighting to get these artifacts back in the museums of their own country now. In 2007 it seems that Peru and Yale reached an agreement that they would put the artifacts into a traveling exhibit between Yale and Peru, but according to Jaime, the fight still continues.

When Jaime finally finished our tour, we had to say our goodbyes to him. He had been a lovely addition to our journey thus far, and we all gave him hugs goodbye. After his departure, most of us split apart. Some people returned back to the town of Aguas Calientes to relax or shop. Seven of us went back through the ruins to use the stamp on the ticket we had gotten early that morning. It was time for one last hike.

We were heading up to the top of Huayna Pichu, a mountain that sits 360 metres (1,180 ft) above the ruins. More Inca ruins sit atop this peak after one climbs up hundreds of steep steps and winding trails to the top. It is believed that the top of the mountain was the residence for the high priest and the local virgins.

The sun was high in the sky and blazing when we started our climb. I was missing the cool damp breezes from the mountains where we walked a few days ago. The equatorial sun was strong and I already knew my fair skin would be burned before the day was out. The narrow and steep trails were busy with tourists coming and going from the top. Most were heavily panting on the way up and many stopping on the edges of the trail for a break. It was a constant steep trail upwards whether on the ground or on stone staircases. Although my legs were tired from the previous days’ work, there was a little extra burst of energy and excitement left in wanting to see those views from the top.

On the way up, we walked for awhile with a girl from California. She had just arrived at Machu Picchu at sunrise that morning. She and her mother had done the four day classic Inca Trail trek which leads from lower in the Sacred Valley and culminates at the old gated entrance to Machu Picchu. Looking back, I was glad that we had not taken this more touristy route to get to Machu Picchu as I had simply loved our quiet experience in the mountains, off the beaten path.

Near the top of Huayna Pichu we started climbing through the Inca ruins. These stone buildings were literally built on a stone edge of a mountain cliff. It is hard to imagine how difficult and dangerous it must have been to construct this. The views were lovely though and the top was finally in sight!

There was a wooden ladder that brought us up the last few feet to the very top of Huayna Pichu. The top was not much more than large boulders and perhaps fifteen people were sitting up there, soaking in the views. Machu Picchu, which before seemed huge and grand, looked incredibly tiny from up here. All around us was a panoramic view of tree covered mountain peaks. I was surprised that up this high, there was a fleet of orange butterflies flying around our heads. It was an amazing viewpoint.

Jonas was the first to venture further out to the edge of the boulders. Before we knew it, it looked like Jonas was going to the edge of world. Some of us laughed, others tried to stop him, as he slowly stood up on top of a narrow rock with nothing but mountain valley below him. If the wind had blown too much, that would have been the end of him! He raised his arms triumphantly and we all cheered and took pictures. Once he was safely back with the group, of course the other guys couldn’t let Jonas be the only daring one. Dylan and Jonas followed suite and ventured out to stand on the pointy mountain edge. More picture-taking and squealing from the girls ensued. Now my competitive feminist streak set in; I couldn’t let this just be a guy thing.

It was definitely a little easier to watch then actually do myself. It was a narrow little ridge that I crawled out on with steep drop offs on either side. To get to the rock where the boys had stood, I had to scale up a large boulder. My legs were not as flexible as usual after all the hiking and I took my time to get safely to the top. I straddled that rock at first, feeling a bit vertiginous at that height. There was just enough width on that rock for my two feet to stand and I slowly stood up and also raised my arms up. I have to admit that my legs were shaking and my heart was beating fast, but I felt victorious too.

We had a lovely time up top of Huayna Pichu, laughing, taking pictures, admiring the sights. We probably would have even stayed there longer if we were not starving for lunch. I found the way down to be actually fun as I hopped down those steep mountain steps, letting gravity do a bit of the work for me, but clearly still feeling the muscle burn.
When we reached the bottom again, I was absolutely famished, as we all were. We made a beeline for the food area at the entrance of Machu Picchu. Sadly, we found that the food was incredible overpriced. It would be about $15 for a sandwich and $35 for the buffet. There was no way one could justify spending this kind of money when there was better food for a fraction of the price down the mountain. We settled for a still expensive, but reasonable, soft-serve ice cream. It hit the spot!

By the time we took the bus back down the Hiram Bingham Highway, we were too hungry to go far for food. In fact we ended up going to the restaurant exactly across the street from the bus stop. It may have been touristy, but we didn’t care at that point. We all sat down, ordered up beers and waters, and checked out the menu. One could order everything from pizza to burgers to ceviche to burritos. Pizza was the most popular choice in our group, and it was hard to resist when we could watch them taking them in and out of the wood-burning stove. Our little group of eight people had a great time chatting, reminiscing about the trip and sharing some laughs. The same Peruvian band from the night before set up their band in front of the restaurant. It was just so right! And we were able to appreciate the beauty and splendor of that musician’s mullet in broad daylight. Jonas was also able to purchase his Peruvian pipes from one of the band members. Richard couldn’t have been more thrilled at the idea of hearing Jonas play those pipes over the four hour ride back to Cusco that night.

After our late lunch, reconvened with the rest of our travel group and Erik led us all to another restaurant. We were all grabbing one last meal before it was time to board the evening train back to Cusco. I was so stuffed from lunch that I just had a soda. On the way back to the train station, I bought a piece of banana bread from a woman selling it in the street. It was homemade.

Apparently the train back to Cusco is a party train. There was loud Peruvian music piping through the train as it moved along. The tourists were knocking back beers on the way. Some lively travelers in our car even got up to start a dance party in the aisle. It didn’t last long but it was entertaining. I have never had a train experience quite like this one! But I have to admit I was exhausted. I was finally feeling the effects of the week and my body was ready for a good sleep in a real bed. But alas, we still had a two hour bus ride from Ollantaytambo ahead of us before we’d get back to Cusco. Well, I guess I can sleep once I get back to Texas!

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!