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HOME » Travel Journals » Allison's Adventures in the Andes of Peru
Allison's Adventures in the Andes of Peru
By : Allison De Jong
Trip Begins May 14, 2007
Trip Ends May 28, 2007
I trekked on the Inca Trail, explored the cobbled streets of Cusco, and visited the islands of Lake Titicaca during my Peru adventure . . . and completely fell in love with the landscape, the people, and the culture.
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May 14, 2007
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Off on a new adventure!
Lima, Peru
A long day of travel awaits. I'm on the 6 am flight from Missoula to Denver . . . then Denver to Houston . . . and finally, Houston to Lima. I watch the sky darken from the window of the plane, and see unfamiliar constellations rising above the horizon. The plane begins its descent, and I see an enormous coastal city spread out below, golden pools of light shining in the typical Lima fog. We arrive around 11, and I'm lucky, as we're one of the earlier international flights to arrive. The immigration lines are short, and I make it through in record time. I pick up my bag from the baggage claim and move to the customs line, which is also short. I walk into the arrivals hall, where an overwhelming frenzy of Peruvians are holding signs and waiting for travelers. I scan the crowd for an Adventure Life sign, but there is none to be found, so I settle down and wait.
Finally Boris, our friendly transfer guide, finds me. He is holding a professional Adventure Life sign and wearing a jacket with the ALJ logo. We wait another 45 minutes for the other ALJ travelers arriving on a later flight, then pile into the car to head out to the Hotel Carmel in the Miraflores district. It is nearly 1 am by the time we arrive, and Boris will be back at 7 to take us back to the airport for our flight to Cusco. I decide not to calculate the number of hours of sleep I'll get. Ignorance is bliss.
I open the window of my 4th-floor room and breathe the foggy, smoggy air of Lima. It reminds me of Cairo, Beijing, Chicago, of other new experiences, other travels. And here I am, once more at the beginning of yet another adventure . . .
May 15, 2007
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Arrival in Cusco
Cusco, Peru
I eat a good breakfast this morning--toast and eggs and fruit and papaya juice--before Boris arrives. The streets that were deserted last night are now busy with morning traffic. I know that not all of Lima's 9 million people can possibly be driving through the streets right now, but it certainly seems like it. Buses, taxis, bicycles, mopeds cram into the thoroughfares in a noisy, colorful frenzy. At last we reach the airport and check in for the 9:35 flight to Cusco. I'd love to tell about the gorgeous views of the Andes that I saw from the plane window, but I end up in the last (windowless) row, and focus instead on talking to my seatmate, who had just come from a cruise in the Galapagos. After a brief flight--only an hour and a half--the plane lands.
Stepping out onto the tarmac, I get my first glimpse of Cusco. High, verdant mountains in all directions. Cloudless blue sky arcing above. Thousands of red tile roofs scattered in the valley and up the sides of the hills. I draw a deep breath of the clear mountain air as the sunlight sparkles around me. It is love at first sight.
I meet my waiting transfer guide, Kike, a young, handsome Peruvian who takes my backpack and stows it expertly in the van. We travel through the narrow Cusco streets to the Del Prado Inn, located approximately five steps off the Plaza de Armas. The staff are wonderfully friendly and welcoming, and I settle into my small but cozy room for a nap before exploring the city. I have the afternoon to myself while I wait for the rest of my group to join me--they are taking the bus today from Lake Titicaca.
I wander through the steep, narrow streets. Some are so steep that stairs have been cut into them--I almost prefer these, as I don't have to worry about traffic coming through! Small children try to sell me finger puppets and postcards, but I refuse. Perhaps another day. The main plaza is large and gracious, European in style, with green benches, flower beds, and pigeons hoping for food. I settle on the steps of the Cathedral with my sketchbook, watching schoolgirls in their navy uniforms, young people cuddling on the benches, and old women selling painted pictures, knitted hats, or beautifully carved gourds.
After a relaxing afternoon, I make my way back to the hotel to wait for my group. They arrive around 7 in the evening, and I come down to the lobby to meet them. Bill and Beverly are retired, in their 60s, and visiting Peru for the second time--30 years after their first visit. Brenda D. and Diane are in their 50s, from Michigan. Brenda V. is an emergency-room nurse from Boston, traveling to Peru to celebrate her 50th birthday. At 27, I am the youngest by a good many years, but I know immediately that I'm going to love this group. They're laughing and teasing each other as I join them. A handsome Peruvian man around my age steps forward, introducing himself as Marco Palomino. Marco's been guiding for ALJ for years, and all I hear about him are rave reviews; it is good to finally meet him. He gives us a briefing about what we'll be doing the next day, tells us he'll meet us here in the lobby at 8 am, and wishes us a restful night before heading home to his family.
May 16, 2007
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Sacsayhuaman and other Incan marvels
Cusco, Peru
After a good breakfast--toast, cereal, fruit, eggs, bacon, and pineapple juice--Marco picks us up to take us to Sacsayhuaman. We pile into a large van and wind our way up one of Cusco's many hills. The air is crisp and clear, the sky blue, the sun shining brightly. Another perfect day. We settle on the springy grass, away from the other tourists exploring the walls of Sacsayhuaman, and listen to Marco's explanation of Incan worldviews and history. Dualities--light, dark, masculine, feminine, dry, wet, sun, moon--not set against each other, but working with each other, completing each other, like yin and yang. The sacred animals: the condor, lord of the sky; the puma, lord of the earth; the snake, lord of the underworld, the world beneath the earth. The importance of the Milky Way, the river in the sky, how it was a mirror of the Urubamba River, the river on earth, how the walls of Sacsayhuaman, seen from above, look like the Milky Way.
We head over to the walls, which are made of enormous stones fitted together without mortar. I step close to the wall, marveling at how the stones have been cut and fitted so perfectly--I could not stick even a pin between them. They are of all different shapes and sizes, some so huge (larger, in fact, than the stones in the Egyptian pyramids), that I wonder how the Incans could have moved them into place, much less cut them from a quarry miles away and hauled them to this hilltop!
The rest of the day is filled with other marvels: the Temple of the Water, shimmering in the sunlight; examples of pre-Incan architecture, less finished, less precise, than the Incan walls; a sacrificial spot, where the blood from the sacrificed animal runs down a snake-shaped trough in the rock; a tunnel through the rock, so dark that I have to rely only on my sense of touch to guide me, my fingertips feeling the rough walls, my feet moving cautiously along the uneven floor, the darkness pressing against my eyes until I close them to stop myself from trying to see.
May 17, 2007
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Sacred Valley
Pisac, Peru
Today we are off to the Sacred Valley. We have been given Adventure Life duffel bags, which we pack with the clothing, sleeping bags, etc., we'll be using for the next few days on the Inca Trail. The rest of our luggage is placed in a locked storage room at the Del Prado Inn. We pile back into the now-familiar van and make our way out of the city toward Pisac. Marco tells us that instead of going to many different sites today, we are going to one site and exploring it more thoroughly. We all approve. The van weaves along the mountain roads for a couple of hours, and we stop briefly at a llama/alpaca farm, where we learn how the wool is dyed and woven.
Our next stop is the Pisac ruins. We hike around a high green mountain, while Marco points out the terraces on the steep hillsides, the bromeliads hanging off of rock outcrops, and various bits of Incan architecture. Sheep graze on some of the terraces, while we look down from above. We stop at one of Marco's favorite places, a narrow ledge of rock that juts out 70 meters above the valley. One at a time, with Marco holding us steady, we stand on the precipice, eyes closed, imagining ourselves to be a condor soaring above the valley.
We stop for a late but sumptuous picnic lunch by a splashing stream. Sunlight reflects off the water while we dig into big helpings of chicken, mashed potatoes, passion fruit, cake, and tea. Marco tells us more about the Sacred Valley, which has rich soil and a climate capable of growing almost anything--1500 varieties of corn. Coffee. Tomatoes. Avocados. Fava beans. Amaranth. Quinoa. Potatoes. We pile back into the van, driving through this lush, verdant valley on our way to Ollantaytambo, which we reach at 4:30. The Hotel Sauce may be my favorite hotel of all those I stay at--small, friendly, comfortable. To someone accustomed to staying in hostels when she travels in foreign countries, three-star hotels are a luxury.
We spend the last hour of daylight climbing up the ruins at the edge of town. At the top are more of the enormous blocks of stone, so huge and heavy that I can't imagine how the Incans wrestled them up the steep hillside. Apparently not all of the stones made it to their destinations; so-called 'lazy stones' are scattered on hillsides in this area, stones that were too large or unwieldy to be hauled to the mountaintops.
Before heading to bed, Marco gives us a briefing of what to expect on our days on the trail, and we go to bed early in preparation for a long day tomorrow.
May 18, 2007
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Day 1 of the Inca Trail!
Inca Trail Day 1: WAYLLABAMBA, Peru
Inca Trail, Day 1! I wake early, before 6, and slip out to explore Ollantaytambo in the quiet of the morning. I find the central plaza, see the men in their colorful garb--orange-red shawls and hats--and walk around the town as it awakes. After breakfast at the hotel, Marco takes us to buy walking sticks--broomsticks with rubber tips and colorful woven handles for 10 soles each. Shortly after 8 am we are packed and in the van, on our way to kilometer 82 and the beginning of our hike.
Marco calls today the acclimating day; we gain only 1,000 feet in elevation over the course of 6 or 7 miles. This gives me plenty of time and energy to appreciate the landscape through which we walk: views of Veronica, a spectacular 19,000-foot snow-capped peak; the Urubamba River paralleling the trail; and the wealth of bird and plant life. We see hummingbirds of all colors, American kestrels, flocks of loud green parakeets, geese. We pass yellow-flowered Scotch broom, white angel's trumpet flowers, avocado tees, fig trees, and myriad orchids. We stop frequently to rest, eat snacks of fruit or chocolate, and explore the ruins along the way. Our porters do not stop to rest. Though we started off before them, they pass us quickly, their muscled calves moving quickly beneath their huge packs.
When we arrive at our lunch spot, we find a large dining tent set up and waiting for us. Bowls of warm water, soap, and towels are set outside, and we wash our hands and faces gratefully. Lunch is delicious and generous--as, I will soon discover, are all our meals on the trail. We down the spinach soup, fresh vegetables, chicken, yucca, and tea as though we haven't eaten in a week. The altitude may be contributing to our overactive appetites . . .
We hike for only a couple more hours before reaching our campsite at Wayllabamba. Our tents are set up (of course!), and our duffels spread out on a tarp. I have a spacious tent to myself, and the provided thermarest has already been inflated and put inside. There are basic but adequate bathrooms here, which I was not expecting, but I am grateful! We have a light tea since dinner won't be ready for another couple of hours. I find that I enjoy being fed every 2-3 hours. We eat another fantastic meal by the light of a gas lamp, and spend the evening telling stories and jokes and laughing, before heading into our tents for the night. I sit outside for a little while with Marco, watching the stars blazing overhead. I haven't seen so many stars in a long time. Marco points out the perfectly proportioned Southern Cross, the bright Eyes of the Llama in the river of Milky Way, and familiar constellations like Scorpio and Orion.
May 19, 2007
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The Challenge: Dead Woman's Pass
Inca Trail Day 2: PACAY MAYU, Peru
These days are so good. I sleep well, to the sound of gentle rain on the tent, and I wake up to roosters crowing at 5. At 6, two porters stop by my tent with a tray bearing tea bags, Nescafe, hot chocolate powder, and hot water. I go for the coca tea, and have nearly finished my cup when the porters return bearing a bowl of warm water to wash in. Talk about pampered . . . this experience is spoiling me for all future camping trips!
Today is the most challenging day: 4,000 feet elevation gain in 4 hours. We have camped at about 10,000 feet, and Dead Woman's Pass is at 13,800. At breakfast, Marco tells us we will go slowly but steadily, taking breaks for rest and food as needed. As we hike, I find that it is not as bad as I expected. We are taking our time, enjoying the journey. We walk through the cloudforest and a misty rain that feels wonderful on our warm faces and skin. The hardest sections are those with stairs; there are points when my breath comes in gasps and my heart is thudding crazily. But we always stop before any of us are too tired, and stop to breathe and break chunks off the huge chocolate bars we brought along. Chocolate is a life-saver on the Inca Trail.
The last 1,000 feet or so we are above the tree line, and the view is incredible. Clouds and mist rise from the mountains--these living green hills are breathing as we hike through them. I turn often to look behind me down the trail, to the very bottom of the valley and the place we started from this morning. It's hard to believe we've come so far. And suddenly, we're at the top! Victory! When all of us have reached the pass, we stop to take victory pictures before heading down again. The rest of the hike today seems a bit anticlimactic after the morning's big push. I'm glad for my hiking stick, though, on the downward slopes and stairs.
We arrive at our campsite at Pacaymayu at 3 o'clock, and we're more than happy to be done a little early for the day! We spend the rest of the afternoon stretching sore muscles and resting. This campsite has bathrooms as well, though they are not quite as nice as those at Wayllabamba. Our tents are quite far from the bathrooms, too, so we're all happy that our porters have set up a small 'emergency toilet' tent at our site.
May 20, 2007
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On Cloud Nine in the City above the Clouds
Inca Trail Day 3: PHUYAPATAMARCA, Peru
Today we have two more passes to cross, but compared to Dead Woman's Pass they seem minor bumps indeed. I continue to be awed by the beauty of this country, as well as its spiritual richness. The clouds shift above us, below us, around us, constantly changing the face of the land. The sky beyond the clouds is a high, bright blue, and the land is every shade of green imaginable. We continue to see varied bird life: scarlet-breasted parakeets, black and white falcons, scarlet-breasted tanagers, sapphire-winged hummingbirds. Two white-tailed deer appear just to the edge of the trail. Kaleidoscopically-colored flowers surround us on all sides, too many for me to remember all their names. A flora and fauna book would have come in handy . . .
We hike through more cloudforest, pause at more Incan ruins. Marco takes us off the trail to a hidden ruin he knows about. We bushwhack through the underbrush, almost on hands and knees at times, and come to a small cave of mossy Incan stones. Tree roots are wrapping around some of them, forcing cracks into others. I feel like an explorer discovering an ancient ruin; looking at the faces of Diane and Brenda and Brenda and Bill, I know they feel the same. Diane is giddy with the delight of standing in this sunlit, mossy ruin. Back on the trail, Marco points out where the ruin is on the hillside. It is completely invisible; all I can see is a green tangle of leaves and branches, trees and bushes. I wonder how many more ruins are hidden in this fiercely alive jungle. Dozens? Hundreds? Thousands?
This afternoon we reach our highest campsite, Phuyapatamarca, at 12,000 feet. Phuyapatamarca: 'the city above the clouds.' It is aptly named. Before dinner I hike down the ridge to sit on a high point of land that falls steeply down to the valley below. Clouds wrap their ethereal shawls around the mountains below as well as floating in the sky high above. Between the layers of cloud, I sit on a rock outcrop that is looking over the edge of heaven. The clouds shift and stir, offering new sights with each passing second. Veronica appears for a moment, then disappears in a cloak of grey-white. Machu Picchu peak appears and disappears below me. Sunlight shafts through the shifting cloudscape. I am torn away from my perch only when my stomach reminds me that it's time for tea, and I devour the popcorn, fried cheese, and crackers and jam. I can't believe this is our last night on the trail, that tomorrow we'll arrive at Machu Picchu.
May 21, 2007
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Machu Picchu!
Machu Picchu, Peru
I wake earlier than usual this morning, and Marco, Bill, and Brenda V. and I hike up above our campsite to a high hill to watch the sun rise. The mountains spread out all around us, snow-capped peaks rising high amongst the shifting clouds. Salcantay, 'the wild one,' rises high and white and majestic into the blue sky, so beautiful it brings tears to my eyes.
After breakfast, we pool our money together for the tips for the porters. Our fantastic chef, Miguel, gets 200 soles; the head porter gets 150 soles, and the other 11 porters get 100 soles each. We gather for a few group pictures before heading down, and down, and down the trail. Today we descend 3,000 feet and 3,000 stairs to Machu Picchu.
It is hardest on the knees. I've inherited my mother's family's bad knees; they generally don't bother me unless I put undue strain on them. Descending 3,000 stairs, for instance. My walking stick comes in very, very handy, and I take those unending stairs slowly and steadily, pausing often to look at the flowers and birds and greenery around me.
We stop for lunch at Winay Wayna, the last campsite before Machu Picchu. Many groups like to camp here, so that they can get up at 3 or 4 in the morning to hike down and reach Machu Picchu by sunrise, but I am just as glad to have gotten a good night's sleep, and I wouldn't have missed camping at Phuyapatamarca for the world. We have only a couple more hours to go before we reach Machu Picchu . . .
There is a long flight of stairs leading up to the Sun Gate. We are almost there, and we climb the stairs slowly. Even when we reach the top we do not look--we wait for Marco, who gathers us around, handing us each a sprig of muna, Andean mint. We roll the plant between our palms, crushing the leaves so that the spicy mint fragrance covers our skin. Marco lifts his hands to his face, breathing in the scent, and we all the do the same. Then, following his example, we brush our hands down our arms, torsos, legs. It is an act of preparation, of purification, before reaching this special site.
"Now we are ready," Marco says, and we turn towards the gate, walking through to get our first glimpse of Machu Picchu. I see green stretching out, and the mid-afternoon sunlight hitting the grey-green stones of these magnificent ruins. We all stand transfixed for 3 or 30 minutes, watching the light play golden over the green and grey.
We do no more than walk along the edge of the ruins on our way down to the waiting shuttle bus--this, so that we do not have to pay to re-enter the ruins tomorrow. But we pause at the Watchman's Hut to take a few pictures and gaze a little more on the complex combination of cut stones. The bus takes us down the the winding road to the town of Aguas Calientes, nestled in the valley below.
I barely wait to check into our hotel, the Machu Picchu Inn, before making a mad dash for the shower. The hot water feels wonderfully cleansing after these days on the trail. I then meet Marco in the lobby and we head up to the hot springs--they cost 10 soles to enter--and spend a couple of hours letting the aches of the day wash away in the hot water. We all eat dinner at the restaurant directly across from the hotel, toasting our success with pisco sours.
May 22, 2007
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Exploring Machu Picchu
Machu Picchu, Peru
We have decided to sleep in a little this morning--that is, we're not going to get up for the 6 AM bus up to the ruins. The 8 AM bus will do just as well. The round trip shuttle fare is 40 soles (~$13), and we are back at Machu Picchu by 8:30. Marco takes us around for the first few hours, showing us some of the most popular sections--the Temple of the Sun, the sun dial, the Temple of the Three Windows, the echo stones (which are carved in the shape of the mountain behind), and we drink in the knowledge he shares along with the views.
Gluttons for punishment and adventure, Bill and I have decided to hike to the top of Huayna Picchu, the high peak behind the ruins. We wait in a long line first, as everyone hiking to the top must check in--so that if we don't return they know to look for us! Also, only 400 or so people can hike up Huayna Picchu each day.
We hike up, and up, and up. Stairs, stairs, and more stairs, some of them extremely steep and narrow, with sharp drop-offs on one side. This expedition is not for the faint of heart. But at last we make our way to the very top--it is rocky, and we perch on a large stone to catch our breaths and take victory pictures. The view is 360; Machu Picchu, from above, looks like a condor nestled into the landscape. The river curves in a tight "C" around Huayna Picchu, and the mountains rise green all around us. The view is very much worth the extra effort!
By the time we get back down, we are both exhausted and dripping with sweat. We take the shuttle back down to Aguas Calientes, and eat pizza out on the deck of the restaurant we ate at the previous night. I love eating the local food of the countries I visit, but I have a definite weakness for pizza, and this afternoon I need comfort food.
At 4:30 we are packed and ready to go, and we make our way to the train station to jump on the backpacker train that will take us back to Ollantaytambo. In Ollantaytambo a van is waiting to bring us the rest of the way to Cusco, which we reach at around 8:00. We check back into the familiar, cozy Del Prado Inn, and I fall asleep immediately.
May 23, 2007
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Exploring Cusco
Cusco, Peru
Today is a free day, but we still have Marco's guide service, so we visit a few more places in this beautiful city. We go the Qorikancha--an ancient Incan temple that was ransacked by the conquistadores--as well as to the local market, with its pigs' feet (and heads!), and meats and fruits and vegetables of all kinds. We buy a couple of large round loaves of sweet bread and thick slabs of cheese. We stop by the shaman's shop, where dried llama fetuses dangle above our heads. Marco takes us to a bookstore so I can buy a Peruvian cookbook, and the rest of the afternoon we have to ourselves. Brenda, Diane, and I sit in the Plaza de Armas to eat our bread and cheese and watch the people.
This evening is Brenda V.'s birthday celebration. We all head over to Marco's wife's restaurant, A Mi Manera, for a sumptuous dinner. I've eaten so much meat on this trip, and tonight is no exception! I order an alpaca steak and dig in. A local band comes in to play "Happy Birthday" to Brenda, and a chocolate cake is brought out for us all to enjoy. This is our last evening together. Bill, Beverly, and Brenda V. are flying to the Amazon tomorrow. Brenda D. and Diane are flying home. And I am taking the bus out to Puno and Lake Titicaca. We say goodbye to Marco (surreptitiously slipping him generous tips), who has become a good friend in these past days, and opened up Peru to us in a way that none of us expected.
May 24, 2007
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Journey to Puno and Lake Titicaca
Puno, Peru
I'm up early to eat breakfast this morning, and Bill has gotten up to eat with me. I am sad to leave this group of people, who have also become good friends in such a short time. I will miss them.
Kike arrives at 7 with a van to take me to the bus station. My seat is at the very back of the bus, next to Danielle, an Australian girl who is traveling the world for a year. We are about the same age, and end up talking for much of this long day of driving.
We stop every couple of hours to rest, stretch, and explore. The day is overcast, the first such day since I arrived in Cusco. The ride is long, and the guide on the bus is not nearly so skilled nor knowledgeable as Marco. But it's fun to stop in the little towns along the way, to see the small museums or exotic ruins or colorful markets. We stop for lunch at mid-day, a generous, varied buffet at a small restaurant, and eat well before piling back on the bus.
We arrive in Puno around 5 pm. After a little confusion, I find the woman who is supposed to pick me up and transfer me to the hotel. She tells me what I can expect for the next couple of days--I'll be heading out to Amantani Island on Lake Titicaca--and I ask her to explain in Spanish so that I can practice my comprehension. I'm surprised at how much my high school Spanish has improved even in these 10 days. I can speak it more confidently and understand a remarkable amount.
We arrive at the Q'elqatani Hotel, which is quaint and very centrally located, just off of Calle Lima. The bed is perhaps the most comfortable of all I've slept in on this trip. Danielle and I had decided to meet for dinner, so we venture out together along Calle Lima. She is frugal, so much so that she bargains for the price of our meal at the restaurant. With my group, I ended up paying more for meals than I'd expected, but we always went to fairly fancy restaurants. Danielle teaches me about the 'tourist menu,' a set menu that generally includes a choice of appetizer, drink, entree, and dessert, for a set price which is much less expensive than the ala carte menu. A pity I didn't know of this option earlier . . .
After dinner we explore the local markets. Night has fallen, and the streets are a blur of light and color and sound. We find stands that sell fruit, books, music, meat, clothing, jewelry. This part of town has few tourists--we are almost the only light-haired people, and the Peruvians stare at us curiously. Perhaps not many tourists venture this far away from the main areas of town.
May 25, 2007
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Off across Lake Titicaca - to Amantani Island
Amantani Island, Peru
This morning I eat a fantastic breakfast--the Q'elqatani cooks eggs to order!--and then get picked up, along with several other travelers from various hotels in the city, to be transferred to the Puno dock. Before we board the boat we have a chance to buy fruit for our host families on Amantani Island. We make our way to the end of the dock where several small boats are waiting. Our group clambers aboard one boat--there are 13 of us, plus a guide. We take off across the blue expanse of water.
We stop at the floating reed islands of the Uros people. The islands are made of the piled up and lashed together reeds that grow along the shores of the lake. Their houses and kitchen buildings and even some of their boats are made of these same reeds. It's strange to think that I am standing on a man-made island of thin reeds. The people are colorfully dressed. One woman takes me into her small, spare home. It is one room, but very clean and neat. She grabs a dress and hat from a pile in the corner, and helps me to put them on. I am several inches taller than most of the Uros people, and the dress is too short. My hiking boots look very classy beneath it, I'm sure. The woman asks me if I am married. "No, estoy soltera," I tell her. She braids my hair and begins attaching some brightly-colored bobbles to the ends. Apparently the number (or perhaps the color?) of the bobbles signifies a woman's marital status. I walk back outside to see that the other tourists are similarly garbed. We laugh and take pictures of each other before extracting ourselves from the colorful costumes. Then it's back to the boat for the next two to three hours across the open blue water of Lake Titicaca.
I sit up on the top deck, letting the wind blow my hair and the sun dazzle my eyes. Snow-capped mountains show faintly purple in the distance--Bolivian mountains, on the far side of the lake. I remember the report I wrote on Bolivia in 5th grade, remember learning about Lake Titicaca, the highest navigable lake in the world. At 11, I never dreamed that one day I'd be skimming across the high waters I read about in the encyclopedia.
An island looms to our right, and another, larger, to our left. It is the larger island, Amantani, to which we are headed. We disembark and make our way along a stone path up the side of the hill. Several men and women from the island are waiting for us--our host parents! We are divvied up; my papa is named Teodoro. He leads me further up the steep path to his home. There are no cars on the island, no wide roads, only these stone paths making their way through the communities.
Teodoro's home is much larger than I expected. I am led to a room with three beds, all covered with thick blankets, as it gets very cold here. He leaves me to rest and settle in before lunch, and I test out each bed to find the most comfortable. Later, the youngest son, Brian, comes in to wake me up, while the oldest son, John, brings me a sumptuous lunch--soup fried cheese, tomatoes, cucumbers, potatoes, and muna tea. After lunch we hike up to the local school to meet up with the rest of our boat group for a brief explanation of Amantani Island culture and history. Then, as the sun slips down the sky, we are free to hike up to the top of the island to visit the Pachatata (earth father) temple and watch the sunset. A half moon rises in the east over the darkening horizon, and the lake spreads out below, glimmering in the fading light. As the stars come out I walk slowly back down the hill to where Teodoro and Brian are waiting to lead me back to their home.
We eat dinner in the small, dirt-floored kitchen, a candle-lit room warm from the fire. Filimena, the mama, has made a delicious meal and I eat it eagerly. We talk a little--as much as my broken Spanish will allow--about our lives. After dinner, Filimena leads me to another room to dress me in local garb--this seems to be the popular thing to do around Lake Titicaca! She gives me two skirts, a shirt, a hat, and shawl, and the layers feel good against the night's cold. We all walk down to a large community building, where many of the other tourists are waiting, similarly dressed. A band begins playing lively music, and my hands are grabbed by a tiny Amantani man and I am led into the whirling dance. Most of the tourists are not terribly talented, but we have fun anyway, dancing around the crowded room, then holding hands in a long wavery circle and dancing outside around a flickering bonfire that throws up sparks into the dark night. I stumble a bit along the uneven ground, but am steadied by the hands holding mine on either side. Suddenly, I am exhausted, and Teodoro appears as if by magic to lead me back to the house. I go to bed immediately, snuggling under the thick wool blankets, and sleep better than I have this whole trip.
May 26, 2007
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Taquile Island
Puno, Peru
This morning, after a simple breakfast, I bid a fond farewell to my host family, and hike back down the hill to meet up with the rest of the group. We climb back on the little boat for the trip to Taquile Island, only an hour's ride across the blue water. We will hike around the entire island today, stopping here and there for short explanations from our guide, Roger.
We stop at a small house near the top of the hill. A woman is weaving colorful wool on a loom, while her husband stands knitting a hat. Roger tells us that if a young man is interested in a young woman, the first thing she will ask him is, 'How well do you knit?' If a man can knit a hat with a tight enough weave that a drop of water will roll down it rather than soak immediately through, he is, presumably, responsible enough to marry and have a family. What would American society be like if men proved their manhood by how well they knit rather than how well they drink beer/play basketball/drive a car? Hmm.
We continue our walk around the island. The sky is a bright blue above, with the water reflecting both sun and sky in a glitter of gold and blue, and flowers of all colors spill down the hillside--purple, pink, orange, yellow. Around lunchtime we reach the main plaza, at the very top of the island. I climb the stairs to a lookout on the roof of a large building, and can see into the blue horizon for miles. The far Bolivian mountains glimmer in the distance.
We eat a delicious lunch at one of the restaurants, sitting outdoors beneath an awning. A bold chicken struts arrogantly around our feet, looking for a handout, perhaps? After lunch, we make our way back to the boat for the return journey to Puno. We arrive in mid-afternoon, and, after returning to the hotel, I wander down to the Plaza de Armas to journal and watch twilight spill across the sky. I'm approached by a girl about my age, who asks if I've seen any internet cafes. Calle Lima is peppered with them, and I point out a couple from my vantage point on the Cathedral steps. Inge, who is from the Netherlands (and of course speaks flawless English), and I decide to meet for supper later that evening.
May 27, 2007
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Puno Parade and Sillustani Ruins
Lima, Peru
I spend my unscheduled Sunday morning eating another good breakfast at the Q'elqatani, and then I head to the Plaza de Armas with my journal and camera. The plaza slowly fills with people; I am told that there is a parade today, which seems to be a common occurrence in Peru. The man also informs me that this parade is particularly honoring teachers. It goes on for hours. I am intrigued by a group of little boys dressed up as soldiers . . . and a group of little girls dressed up as nurses. Hmm.
I eat lunch on a tiny balcony overlooking Calle Lima, and sip my banana smoothie slowly while watching the people pass by below. In the early afternoon I go back to my hotel to finish packing and meet my guide for the afternoon--I have arranged to visit the Sillustani ruins on the way to the airport. My guide's name is Marco, and after he helps me put my backpack in the van, we drive about half an hour out of the city to a high hill overlooking a deep blue lake, Lago Umayo. Sillustani is a necropolis, and the tall stone towers scattered across the hillside were buildings for burials. Marco takes me around the ruins, pointing out items of interest, and then we sit on a high bluff overlooking the lake and sit silently, watching the sunlight glint on the water and seagulls flying along the shore below.
After this, I climb in the van for the rest of the drive to Juliaca's tiny airport. The sun has set and dusk is falling across the landscape as I walk across the tarmac to the plane. The sky is a deep blue-green edged with gold on the western horizon, and the stars have begun to come out. The Ojos del Llama beam down at me.
I arrive in Lima around 7:30 pm, and faithful Boris is waiting when I walk out of the terminal. He kisses my cheek and asks how my time in Peru has been. 'Excelente,' I tell him as we climb into the car and head out to Miraflores and the Hotel Carmel. 'Tu paiz es muy hermoso.'
May 28, 2007
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Lima city tour and meeting Milagros
Lima, Peru
It is my last day in Peru--is it possible? Yet the time did not seem to pass overly quickly. Each moment was full, complete, beautiful. I feel the fullness of the experience, mulling it over as I eat breakfast, thinking how much I've enjoyed exploring this country, how much I've fallen in love with it.
This morning I will take a city tour of Lima, and I am hoping that the tour makes me appreciate the city a little--it is even harder to be here in the smog and fog after the crisp clean air of the mountains. We visit a couple of the main plazas, some historic churches, and even stop to tour the catacombs (which is definitely my favorite part of the tour!). We end by visiting a park right on the coast, and I stand on the hill and look out over the blue-grey expanse of ocean, smelling the salty freshness on the wind. Perhaps Lima isn't so bad, after all.
Milagros Polo, our Peru coordinator, is waiting at the Hotel Carmel when I return. It is so good to finally meet her! I have spent plenty of time emailing her and IMing her, so to meet her in person is a pleasure. She is beautiful and petite, and her clothing is very chic. We go out to lunch at a delightful upscale restaurant downtown, and eat . . . and eat . . . and eat. Big pisco sours, chicha morada, ceviche (mmm!), appetizers, dessert. 'I have never met another woman who eats as much as I do!' Milagros tells me in delight. We talk nonstop about work, relationships, men, and once again I am struck by how we are all so alike, no matter the culture we come from or the language we speak.
As evening falls, Milagros takes me to her lovely home and office to meet Pamela (Milagros' primary staff person in the office), and her adorable son, Bruno. We then go out to Miraflores to stroll around, visit a market area or two, and eat a sumptuous dessert. It is a lovely way to end my time in Peru. We return to Milagros's house, where Boris is waiting to take me to the airport one last time. I am glad to arrive 3 hours early--the lines are long and I need all the time I can get!
On the red-eye flight back to the U.S., I press my face to the window to watch the stars shining down. I gaze at the Cruz del Sur and the Ojos de la Llama for as long as I can, until finally they slip over the southern horizon. 'Come back,' they whisper. I know that someday I will return, and I know too that they will be waiting.
My Photo Album: Inca Pathways 2007
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