machu picchu, tube dancing, and weird meat

Lista...

Peru never held a strong draw for me, even with Machu Picchu being the most sought-after world wonder to date. I had heard that the beaches bordered lackluster deserts (which is mostly true) and the major cities left something to be desired. When my good friend and co-worker, Rachel, informed me that Machu Picchu topped her bucket list, I knew I was in and in for it.

A few friends had been traveling south from Quito for the last few weeks and were meeting us in Cuzco, Peru where we would prep for our four day trek. Two American and four Canadian girls decided to bike, raft, climb, zip line, and explore the Andes mountains and have out journey culminate at the top of Machu Picchu.

Streets of Peru

Rachel and I boarded a night bus from Quito to Huaquillas with high hopes and full backpacks. I advise all adventurers to avoid Huaquillas with every ounce of energy possible. Aside from the attempted kidnapping at the border, it's a dirty and tasteless town that leaves you wanting a half dozen showers and saying a Hail Mary despite your chosen religion. For those of you who know me, I prefer to write about the places I love and avoid the negative, but this merited mentioning.

The Sexy Seis

After we avoided kidnapping, robbing, and God knows what else, we finally secured a ludicrously overpriced taxi to deliver us safely (fingers crossed) to the bus terminal (which didn't exist) and found a reputable bus line to get us the hell away from the border and to the sands of Lima. We were greeted by a double-decker bus with semi-cama (reclining) seats and a wicked view from the massive front windshield. We were off. Again.

Peruvian Ceviche

Lima, here we come! Just 22 more hours... It felt like scene out of "Swingers" when Vince Vaughn and Jon Favreau head to Las Vegas from Los Angeles and they start out stoked and fade into a lackluster hoot every once in a while.

After 33 hours on a bus, Rachel and I snatched up the first hostel we found to be both reputable and affordable and scrubbed ourselves to the bone. We wandered around Lima proper, which was lovely, and kept away from downtown, which was dirty and best seen from the bus, as well as the outskirts, which were tin-roof huts stuck into the sides of the dirt hills. The coast line was well kept and consisted of cliffs, art, gorgeous landscaping, and plenty of tourists.

7 months...

Lima, though lovely, was well experienced in a day a we went for a cold beer. We scarfed down multiple-meat burgers topped with fries and tried the local brews. Calling it an early night, we enjoyed sleeping in a fully horizontal position for the first time in three days.

Cuzco, here we come! Just 22 more hours... That sounds a little too familiar. This time, in the back of the 2nd story bus, we posted up and watched another three movies poorly dubbed in Spanish. This trek from Quito, admittedly, did not commit the sin of eighties action movies that consist of Jean Claude Van Dam and an endless amount of dubbed groaning and killing women with large breasts. Aside from the young porter who developed a minor obsession with my feet during our ascent to Cuzco, it was a solid trip: We had arrived.

Cuzco, Peru

We booked our trek through Loki Hostel in Cuzco and met our Canadian counterparts around noon, where we woke them from their hungover slumber around noon. Excitement buzzed that evening as we were briefed and surveyed our trek mates.

Day 1: Spinning Wheels & Paddles

Abramalaga Bike Ride

We ascended to 4250 meters on Abramalaga Mountain and mounted our bikes. We were about to drop 2000 meters over 50 km and the views were stunning. The warm sun ripped through the thin air and tinged our skin as the wind cooled us. We bounded around curves, splashed through natural streams, raced each other over gravel and dirt roads, and we're constantly awestruck after every turn. Little black butterflies danced around us and our faces hurt as much from smiling as our arms did from the two and a half hour ride.

delish.

We loaded up our gear in a small mountain town and devoured some local cuisine accompanied by black corn, pineapple, & cinnamon juice. Dirty, tired, sweaty, and ready for more, we headed to the Urubamba & Vilcanota rivers to cross another beauty off my bucket list: whitewater rafting. Hell yes.

Our guide, Sagá, was a Chilean man in his mid twenties who put up with touring gringos for a paycheck and a chance to live his passion on the river every day. Paddles in hand, we strapped on our helmets and climbed into the giant blue and yellow rafts that would serve as platters to the 3+ rated rivers for dinner. Sagá briefed us on safety regulations and informed us about the dangers that laid ahead, much to his dismay, the our raft nodded half-heatedly and looked to me. Yep. Guess who was dubbed translator for the duration of our trip. Accepting the challenge of translator (and someone who took a sophomore Spanish class in high school a century ago), I managed to tell a bunch of strangers ad a few friends what to do while spinning down a river in Perú. I even managed to convince Sagá to let us tackle some of the more difficult rapids and spin us around in circles! It was most definitely one of the highlights of my trip.

A former resident's depiction 

After we finished, we were driven into the sunset and up a pitch black road to a clearing in the bushes, where we were promptly kicked out and told to strap on our hiking boots once again. Wait, what? We wandered up a steep path by flashlight and iPhone light, panting and hungry, until we reached a little shack with a small monkey tied to one of the door frames. We gathered our breath and played with the mischievous little bugger and fed it sweet sesame peanuts. As we all started to unstrap our packs and take of our shoes, our guide announced in hesitant English, "Ok, guys, let's go... Only fifteen more minutes!" Famous. Last. Words.

Day 2: Morning view

Forty-five grueling, uphill minutes in the pitch dark of the Peruvian jungle later, our surprise hike was over an we had reached the home stay. Exhausted and all-around pissed off, the group stared our guides down as we hung our wet clothes to dry. A delicious dinner was served as the three British boys offered to help our Señora, and we all collapsed onto our wooden benches. Food was devoured at such a rate that we could barely mutter a "Buen Provecho" but everyone seemed in good spirits and had high hopes for tomorrow.

One by one, the girls wandered off to bed, hoping to recharge for tomorrow and keep the mosquitoes at a distance. The Señor came out with his guitar and joined us in a beer while the guys and I played cards with another female traveler. We took turns teaching each other card games and listened to the Señor and one of our guides play poorly tuned guitars and saluds every few moments.

Day 2: The Cliffs of Insanity

Sta. Teresa Valley

When the sun rose the next morning, we emerged from our respective habitations and were left without words. The figureless hike last night left us with sore muscles and one hell of a view. We scarfed down breakfast and readied ourselves for the big hiking day. Frank, who was born on the very land we were trekking across, grabbed a half dozen achiotes from a nearby tree and sliced them open. They proceeded to paint our faces with the seed pollen, claiming it was a natural mosquito repellent, and then slathered themselves in our American-bought chemicals. Whatever.

Achiote

They dubbed me an Andean Inca Princess. Ha. I, in turn, painted his face like a 5th grade pottery project. Disfrutas, homie. Let's go, day 2! We continued our hike up and away from Señor and Señora, expressing our gratitude and leaving just a little part of each of us with them. every corner we turned brought surprises: coffee plants, coca leaves, random giant fruits, millipedes, massive snakes, papayas bigger than my head, and cliffs that drop off into oblivion. We plodded down carefully places steps, dug our boots into cavities scaling up mounds of dirt and rocks, and followed obediently as the path wound tightly around ancient cliffs. Frank explained the traditions and offerings that took place in order to appease the three animals: the snake, the puma, and the condor. 

Great peril...

As we explored the Santa Teresa valley we took turns leading our Puma Family. Pictures cannot do justice to the lands we trekked, but that did not stop us from trying. We teetered down into canyons and hiked the Bilkanota riverbed, had water fights in the streams to battle the almost equatorial heat, and snacked on local grown fruits like Sawinto coffee and bananas as part of the circle of life.

¡Vamos! Let's go! ¡Rrisintu hatumich! Spanish, English, Chichewa... All put a pep in our step as we marched on to night two in a small, Peruvian town, praying there was no uphill night hike. We scooted down the winding path to some thermal spas where we sunk into hot mineral water absorbed every second of relaxation we could. The vies from the pools was the sole item that superseded the pools themselves.

The Pumas

We were dragged from the pools kicking and screaming to a small restaurant where the long, wooden benches were lined with alpaca rugs and Saltado Carne greeted us and we celebrated Shannon's birthday and found the only discoteca within a hundred miles. We went, as Frank called it, "tube dancing" which was actually a bunch of drunk gringo guys taking turns trying to outdo each other on a pole in the middle of a small dance club, but was sufficient enough to give us all a slight hangover the next day... Guides included.

 Day 3: Zip, Zip, and Away

Since Frank and Renaldo we're sufficiently hungover after drinking games and the discoteca, we skipped the three hour hike first thing in the morning and we took a van to the zip line local. Strapped in and stoked for something besides hiking, we climbed a vertical route to the first line of six. One by one we glided across the canopies, lush, green mountains rising up on every side of us and the stream winding intricately below us. Birds darted up and around as the incredible silence was only broken by the whir of the line and the wind in our ears.

Pulling your leg...

After we reluctantly stripped off our gear, devoured another delicious lunch of comida típico, we hiked a few hours around the base of Machu Picchu. We followed the railroad tracks through the jungle to Aguas Calientes, our final stop before the grand finale. Exhausted and riddled with homerun fever, we matched into the pseudo-Aspen town at the base of Machu Picchu. Luxurious hotels, hostels, and countless restaurants and shops lined the paved roads of the touristic city. The pavement and pavers felt strange beneath our blistered and worn feet, as they'd only known rocks, pedals, dirt, and mud for three intense days. We welcomed the stranger beneath our feet, battled with scalding hot and ice cold showers, and tried our best to sit up straight at dinner. After a ridiculous amount of food and some briefing for the big day that would follow, we were all settling in to the worst of the three hospitalities thus far. Running water aside, we all longed for the first homestay that followed the night hike from the first night. 

And then there was Day 4.

Sunrise over Machu Picchu

Day 4: Machu Picchu & Every Man Left Behind

Sufficed to say, our new guide relieved Frank and Renaldo but that was the extent the word "relief" was used for that day. Hugo, though very funny, left us all to find our way to the top of Machu Picchu at 4:30 am. My team of Pumas managed to make it up to the top alive and well about the time I was delivered by bus. My body had decided it had put up with enough and it wasn't sufficiently healed from my appendectomy from a few months back. Deciding my body knew best, and I too having been left my Hugo the Ridiculous, meandered in to my sweet Bucket List item and decided to make the best of every second by following other guide groups here and there and staring at the sun directly until an Inca God spoke to me... Ok, maybe not the last part.

Sun rising in silence

I sat on the compressed dirt that surrounded the stone sun dial at the second highest point in Machu Picchu and gazed silently at the insane dichotomy of the ruins. Old and new, clean and dirty, organized and mysterious. As the sun rose over the mountains in front of me, the chatter stopped and all that could be heard was silence broken by the shutters of hundreds of cameras around me. No one spoke, as it is a sacred and revered time and in a sacred place. Worth every penny, every sore muscle, every hour on a bus getting down there, and every sacrifice made.

Before dawn....

The friends made on this trip were a definite plus, as our group dynamic was untouchable and obviously envied by other groups. The weather was absolutely perfect every single day, especially the last day. The adventures were wonderful and irreplaceable. Taking the train back from Machu Picchu to Cuzco sealed the trek as one of the best experiences of my life; and I've done some pretty cool shit.

7:30 AM

I know I learned more from this adventure than I have yet realized, but I will wait patiently for these lessons to unfold in time. One of the Seven Wonders crossed off, a few Bucket List items completed, and a few steps closer to an intangible state I have yet to identify... Plus, Peruvian ceviche is amazing. I also managed to try alpaca (very similar to beef) and cuy (guinea pig, not as delicious as I had expected) which crossed off a few from my "Let's Eat Meat" list (yet to be published).

The Pumas

Weird meat, big rocks, and tube dancing aside, I know how fortunate I was to have been able to not only experience this, but to do it alongside so many wonderful people.

Hello, Bucket List...

Andean Inca Princess, signing out...

xx.a

P.S. I'm eating one of your relatives tonight.