aventura de peru. dia 23. fin de la aventura.

I did it. I made it home from Peru. Having only suffered two casualties, I think the trip was an overall success. Those two casualties include the afore-mentioned sweet safari hat, and a bottle of Pisco I tried to smuggle back into the states. Ok, I obviously didn't try to smuggle it. Smuggling never works. Duh. I bought it from the airport duty free shop in Peru, but when I got to security in good ol' Atlanta, they took it. Said it was alarming. Yeah right dudes, you just want to get crunk nasty after work tonight.

Ok, I get it. I see the benefits of your status as a TSA agent. You can "confiscate" anything you want because it is "alarming." But don't abuse those benefits you brutes. Now my roommates will never get to try a Peruvian Pisco Sour. Boo on you.

Flashback to a week and a half ago:

I started my Inca Trail trek on a Monday morning with a mod squad of twenty-somethings and our tour guide Mr. Ruben, a tri-linguist (English, Spanish, and Quechua) with an affinity for telling me how fast I am every time he sees me (which was much appreciated compared to my unsatisfactory Colca Canyon performance).

Three Aussie boys, two English boys, an American couple, and me make up the paying portion of the group. A slew of porters, two cooks, and a guide make up the working portion of the group. Here we are in all our splendor just prior to the onset of the trek:

Day 1 is labeled the easiest day as we only climbed 300 meters over the course of 10 kilometers. We stumbled upon some Inca ruins and Ruben was quite knowledgable and attempted to bestow upon us the history of every site we happened upon. I say attempted only because the bestowing wasn't so easy to absorb. Ruben's thick accent mixed with the crazy long Qechuan names together made for a muddled ball of disenchantment. My eyes glazed over often as I struggled to keep focus.

Day 2 is christened the most challenging day, and rightfully so. We climbed 1,200 meters over the course of 8 kilometers. The highest point was 4,200 meters. Bonkerz. The stone steps were relentless and unceasing. But I made it. I celebrated my feat by running all the way down to camp. Billy goat status. I beat everyone else including the porters. The first porter to arrive was flabbergasted. He kept saying nunca. Nunca. As in never. Never has anyone beat him on day 2.

I patted myself on the back for that one.

Day 3, the most scenic. And that is was. We traipsed through the jungle a bit and came upon Winay Wayna, which was incredible. I trekked most of the trail by myself because the 5 man boy bros stayed together, and the couple stayed together at the back with Ruben, so that left me and my lonesome. I got to Winay Wayna, the coolest set of Inca ruins thus far, and I wandered all over the place by myself. I must admit, it was a little eerie, wandering these historic constructs alone with my thoughts. I had my iPod bumping so when I happened upon living beings, like these:

I got a little scurred.

I won't lie. Coming up on some unsuspecting llamas is a little frightening. They're in the wild. I don't know what wild llama behavior entails! So I crept ever so gently around them. Until I came upon this one:

Fool just wouldn't get outta ma way. I made my way around him. Gingerly. So as to avoid being spit at, among other unsuspecting wild llama behaviors. I escaped unscathed. But this fool at the top just would not stop mean-muggin':

See him there on the right? Defending his territory I suppose. So I made my way onward. Leaving him to it. I pictured his thought bubble there above his head: "Come at me bro," is all it would say, his simple llama brain unable to distinguish human gender, just as my simple human brain is labeling him to be a he without actually having identified him as so.

I digress.

Day 3, I was also the first one to arrive at camp. The first from the paying clientele. The porters made it there before me and they all clapped as I arrived. It was a rather ego-boosting business.

Day 4, we woke up at 3:30 am to shove ourselves into a traffic jam at the "checkpoint" to get into the lest leg of the Inca Trail. This checkpoint didn't open until 5:30, so we sat in the line at the gate for an hour after breakfast waiting. We were supposed to arrive at the Sun Gate at sunrise, but due to said traffic jam and many agonizingly slow folks with unwieldy trekking poles, we did not make it for sunrise. The entire three days prior I rarely saw a soul on the trail (they limit the daily allotment of permits to 500 - 200 tourists and 300 guides and porters) and the last day, the day that everyone is looking forward to, results in a slow-moving train of baby deer wavering on their four legs through the stony darkness. I'm being sassy, but I was seriously pissed. All I wanted was for the gumby's to get out of my way but common decency wouldn't allow me to push them over so I could pass.

All that to say, we finally made it to Machu Picchu. And it was just as heavenly as all the postcards proclaim. Touring this monstrosity and learning what archaeologists and historians have speculated about its construction was truly mind-blowing. And getting to walk the path of the Incas only served to amplify the experience.

Here are some token photos for your enjoyment:

Shortly after the commencement of our Machu Picchu tour, the Aussie and English boys trekked up Huayna Picchu with me. Huayna Picchu would be the ever so subtle mountain just behind us. Catch my sarcasm.

The Huayna Picchu summit was absolutely nuts. I mean it's crazy by any standards, but we had also just been hiking for the past 4 days. And this same morning we had gotten up at the ungodly hour of 3:30 am. And it was hot. And I was still sick. Enough with the whining. Peep the height:

Yeah, that's Machu Picchu looking all small there.

People were turning around and walking down backwards whilst holding on because the steps were so treacherous.

Just my kind of adventure. Although I about died several times, I enjoyed every minute of it. Yes, I have been called crazy many a time. Nothing new here folks.

After getting down from there we jumped in line for some concessions before we caught our bus back to town. I proceeded to drop my passport and have it returned by a good samaritan. Phew. And the 6 of  us caught our bus, then train, then another bus back to Cusco, where my previous sickness was compounded and I laid in bed dying the entire next day. So much for that chocolate workshop I wanted to attend. I was too busy draining my lungs via my nose and throat to go learn about the processing of cacao beans into magical Peruvian chocolate.

From Cusco I took a domestic flight back to Lima where I spent some more time with Ana (my couchsurfing angel) and her family. Ana and I went paragliding - solo - which was totally and completely unanticipated. She had purchased the equivalent of a Groupon for us to go paragliding for 70 soles, rather than the customary 240 soles. We showed up the next morning and much to our surprise we had purchased a 5 minute Spanish lesson on how to paraglide by yourself. peep the madness

From there we proceeded to head out for a night of karaoke in celebration of Ana's 26th birthday. Little did I know, the bars don't close in Peru. I ended up excusing myself to the backseat of Ana's car to sleep while her and her two friends proceeded to sing their hearts out until 6:30am when I accidentally set the car alarm off by attempting to move to the front seat so I could recline whilst sleeping. I ran back into the bar to get Ana and begged to go home. We got back to her place and she proceeded to drink with her friends until 9am. Absolutely nuts. Even in my prime I couldn't rage like that. My little old ladiness just could not hang. And hence the compounding of said sickness once again. The illness in my body is fierce and unrelenting. Green goop oozing out like you wouldn't believe. 

But the Peruvian adventure must go on. 

For one more day anyway.

My last day involved swooping up some souvenirs and having a fun French lunch with Ana and her mom. After watching the US lose to Belgium, (way to go Wow), Ana, her mom, and I took a cab to go pick up Ana's dad at work. He's an administrator/professor at the first Peruvian law school. Upon arrival, Ana's dad (who by the way's name is Martin, also my biological father's name…and her mom has the same birthday as me…kindred spirits I tell ya) gives me a lovely journal with the insignia of his school. Then we proceed, family style, to ride to the airport together. The three of them sit with me at the airport sharing a last supper before I have to head through security on my way back home. Liliana (my cab driver from the beginning of my trip) also shows up to spend some last moments with me before I have to depart. These last moments were some of my favorite. Laughing with these new friends in the airport on my way out of this chapter was truly something special. 

The heart of life is good folks. 

Even when everyone was brewing anxiety and uncertainty up inside me with their qualms about my solo travel as a female, the heart of life beat back with a family that took me in and shared their lives with me. Never once did I feel unsafe in Peru. I felt more cared for and more looked after than I think I would have had I been with a group of people. 

And that's it folks. It took me almost 24 hours to get home from that place but I made it. And guess what, I leave Monday for the next adventure.

A 6 week National Park road trip. Get excited.

Stay tuned.