Shaking the Dust of the Andes off our Hiking Boots

"It is not the going out of port, but the coming in that determines the success of the voyage."

As we travelled home on two more flights, we reflected on our time away and the lessons we would bring home.

We had followed our hearts as we seized the opportunity for adventure and learning. It is through seeing the world that we create ourselves.

We had found a new perspective by observing the night sky from the southern hemisphere and observing life through the lens of the Peruvian people.

We had cultivated a sense of wonder and bowed to the stupendous, barren beauty of the Andes Mountains with their jagged peaks and glistening snow-capped glaciers.

We had been blessed with our guide, Dennis, a proud descendent of the Incas, who breathed life into his ancient past and brought the history alive, as we walked with reverence through Inca ruins.

We had set goals and conquered challenges.

We had climbed mountains which were breathtaking both figuratively and literally.

We had overcome altitude sickness!

We had learned to love and respect our Mother Earth and we had united in the sisterhood of the Pachamama, helping each other, our strong and unique personalities working together in tandem, as we all needed to be carried at one point.

We had danced a frenzied, traditional Highland dance at 4,100 meters.

We had savoured amazingly fresh Peruvian food and attempted to identify the symphony of spices, some of which were completely unrecognizable.

We had eaten alpaca and learned that Guinea Pigs are not just pets!

We had visited museums and churches.

We had faced our fears and developed faith in the human spirit.

We had ascended and descended thousands of steps and felt the energy of a people united in a common purpose.

We had made time to have fun, laughing, giggling, and cracking jokes at the hilarity of our bizarre situations, all the time creating the adventure we desired.

We had been surrounded by nature as we experienced: humid cloud forests, lush with flowers and alive with birds and insects; majestic mountains; rushing rivers; a crashing ocean; the brown barren, sandy desert at Lima; and Lake Titicaca with its unique floating islands.

We had been swarmed by children eager to have a pencil or an eraser and we started to understand the vast differences between our worlds and the injustices of these differences.

We come home, eager to embrace our loved ones and grateful for the peace, order, and good government of our beloved Canada, but it will be a long time before I forget my soulful exchange with the bus wrangler, and the six amigas will never truly shake the dust of the Andes off their hiking boots.

Lifeless in Lima!

The alarm rang at 5:00 a.m. so we could finish packing and transfer to the airport for our flight to Lima. This trip is definitely an adventure not a holiday!

Michel met us at the Lima Airport, where we stored our luggage and backpacks so we could enjoy a city tour. Francisco Pizarro founded Lima, the capital of Peru, in 1535. As our van wound its way through this crowded city, located in the centre of Peru's desert coastline, we were unable to keep our eyes open, although we did try to make sure at least some of us were awake for our tour guide. At one point, she actually told me to pay attention - now I know how my students feel!

We enjoyed the main Plaza de Armas with its bright yellow buildings, the impressive statue of Francisco Pizarro on horseback, and the Moorish influence of the covered wooden balconies - still in tact after disastrous earthquakes. We also visited San Francisco, a Franciscan church and monastery famous for its catacombs. We were led deep underground to this site of an estimated 70,000 burials, where we passed by many bone-filled crypts featuring very artistic displays of femurs, skulls etc. Many of the crypts were not even covered with glass and I suddenly felt very claustrophobic and feared an earthquake would bury me in this Halloween nightmare!

Our next site was Pachacamac, 31 km south of Lima, an important Incan site and major city when the Spanish arrived. It predates the Incas by 1000 years as a ceremonial centre. En route to this ruin, we passed many shanty towns, which lack electricity, water, and adequate sanitation. These very poor people come from other parts of Peru, particularly the highlands, searching for a better life and opportunities for their children. These people often work as street vendors and chances of improving their life are very slim.

We had a free afternoon in Miraflores, one of Lima's most important shopping, entertainment, and residential areas. As we were coming back from our shopping excursion, it was rush hour and the buses were lined up along the street (there are no subways because of the earthquake danger). Each bus had a bus-wrangler who was hanging onto the side of the bus, shouting out destinations. I took note of a wrangler on one of the approaching buses and thought how tired and worn he looked. Was he from one of the neighbouring shanty towns? Was this his way of trying to improve his family's living conditions? How many hours did he work in a day? This wrangler suddenly looked up and our eyes locked. He smiled a little; I smiled a lot; he smiled a lot. This unexpected soulful connection was an unguarded and honest expression of love, concern, and friendship and was one of the most memorable moments of my adventure to Peru. This exchange of smiles and friendship reminded me of Mark Twain's quote, "Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness". How fortunate I am to have had this amazing travel opportunity to grow and learn as a person.

Sacred Valley of the Incas

After breakfast, we departed for our tour to the Sacred Valley, which refers to a broad and gently sloping river plain between Pisac and Ollantaytambo. This valley was a key area of settlement to the Incas because of its combination of agreeable climate and lush plains. The Incas were also attracted to the natural beauty of this area, as the valley is a corridor through glorious mountain landscapes, its fertile floor walled by dark granite cliffs and the gleaming snow peaks of the glaciers.

At the end of the Sacred Valley, we visited Ollantaytambo, another major Inca site. This massive fortress and ceremonial centre is one of the few places where the Spanish lost a major battle during the conquest. The village is built on the traditional Inca foundations and it is the best living example of an Inca street plan. The settlement is laid out in a trapezoid and each block contains a self-contained unit housing many people.

We visited colourful Indian markets where we feverishly haggled for gifts for family and friends back home. We stopped for lunch at a delightful restaurant with more GREAT food. It was here that we thanked our guide, Dennis, for his professionalism, for breathing life into the ancient Inca history and making it come alive for us, for sharing his knowledge of Peru's history and Peru's daily life, for keeping us safe, for laughing with us, for joking with us, and for gracing us with his kind and gentle spirit.

Machu Picchu - Magnificence and Mystery

The alarm rang at 3:00 a.m. and we lept out of bed eager to hike to the "Lost City of the Incas"! Machu Picchu's existance was unknown until 1911 when Hiram Bingham, an American archaeologist stumbled upon it by accident.

A crowd of about 200 congregated around the bottom of the gates and we all waited, somewhat impatiently, to be let it. About 5:00 a.m., the authorities allowed us to begin out one-hour trek straight up the large stone steps leading to the ancient Inca ruin. In the dark sky all you could see were the bobbing of headlamps and the hiker directly in front of you. All you could hear was the eerie, heavy panting of hikers struggling to continue their journey. I was swept along by the energy of this long line of hikers, united together in the common purpose of reaching Machu Picchu before dawn broke over the mountains and it was this energy which gave me the strength and endurance to complete the excursion. Our resolve and fortitude increased as we passed many hikers half our age bent over, trying to catch their breath.

Dawn arrived about two-thirds of the way up and we were graced by a chorus of birds and as I gazed back into the sky, the beauty of the grey-silhouetted Andes. Exhilarated, I entered the Lost City and was struck by the air of grandeur and mystery this ruin still retains. San Dennis let us to a private grassy terrace where the seven of us watched the sun burst forth over the Andes and cast new light on this magnificent scene. For the rest of the day, we toured, explored, and hiked this spectacular archaeological site, revelling in the highlight of our trip.

When time tore us away from Machu Picchu, we returned to Aguas Calientes for another great meal and then caught the train back to Cusco. With the glass ceilings in the train, the panoramic views of the mountains were awe-inspiring. As Peter Frost states in his guidebook, this journey by train from Aguas Calentes to Cusco is without a doubt one of the most spectacular in the world.

Soaking Away Our Aches, Pains, and Dirt

Once again, we woke up to the sounds of cups of coca tea being delivered to our tents. While Dennis went to hire a local bus to take us to Hydro Electric, where we would start our hike for today, we investigated our average mountain village with chickens and dogs running through the dirt streets and people going about their normal Saturday chores. We found the school and interacted with the local children.

When Dennis returned, we loaded our knapsacks on top of the local bus and piled in. This typical Peruvian trip down the mountainside was definitely a Zen moment for me. Sitting in the middle of the second bench seat where there was no seatbelt, I was jostled about while the van was manoeuvred over the dusty, potholed road. I tried to live in the moment - taking in the sounds of the South American Pop Music that was playing on the radio; soaking up the spectacular views of the Andes Mountains and the banana tree leaves stretching over the road and protecting the coffee bean plants; enjoying the sounds of the three Peruvian men sitting in the front as they conversed in Spanish; and just giving myself up to the experience as we wound our way through the spectacular views of the Andes and their peoples.

Arriving in Hydro Electric, we were definitely in the heart of the cloud forest and for the first time we started to sweat while hiking because of the high humidity and heat. Our trek to Aguas Calientes, a quaint, touristy village, was flatter so we could enjoy the colourful flowers (particularly the Bird of Paradise, orchids, and Trumpet flowers that were growing wild along the trail), and the massive white granite formations that rested in the emerald-coloured river reminding us of giant pieces of whipped meringue. Carrie and Linda especially enjoyed crossing the railway trestle bridges with large pieces missing, leaving large gaps for them to hike over while fully loaded with packs!

Upon arriving in Aguas Calientes, we immediately sought out the natural, thermal springs, where we soaked away our aches, pains, and dirt from under our fingernails in the unsurpassed setting of the Andes. While winding our way back down to the village after our spa experience, we happened upon an open cafe with a 'four for one' happy hour! Not about to pass up this opportunity, we enjoyed several cervecas accompanied by fresh, creamy guacamole spiced with hot peppers. After a delightful dinner in another open cafe where we listened to live South American music with panpipes and guitars, we retired early as tomorrow was the day to climb Machu Picchu!

Hiking From Lichen to Lizards

Stephanie and I were awakened at 5:30 when Demetrio brought coca tea to our tent. Stephanie immediately said, "Oh we are getting so spoiled!" A breakfast of porridge and a delicious Spanish omelette was served in our dining tent, where the table was set, complete with a colourful, woven tablecloth and a fresh flower centrepiece. We were quite surprised when we learned that our toothpaste and sunscreen had frozen overnight in this tundra-like ecosystem, where the trees were covered in lichen.

Today we had to make up an extra four hours so we were eager to hit the trail. Luckily we were hiking downhill which would be much easier on our cardiovascular system, but we soon found out hiking downhill was much harder on our muscles.

Our dusty hiking path was about 18" wide and we picked our way over boulders and river rocks like mountain goats. We walked in community with the local people who were carrying goods hither and yon on their donkey trains. Every time a donkey train was spotted, we would scramble to find a safe spot where we would then take off our sunglasses (in order not to scare the horses) and flatten ourselves on the INSIDE of the trail. The passing horses were beautiful as were the dark-eyed, long-lashed Peruvian cowboys with their checkered shirts and wide-brimmed hats.

All day long the Olobamba River crashed below us, fed by mountain streams which we crossed on rickety bridges cobbled together from logs and burlap with small rocks and gravel piled on top.

At one point, the trail narrowed to a 12 inch path of slippery, silken sand and cut its way down a sharp descent along the edge of a deadly precipice - far below, massive boulders and the tumultuous Olobama. I could hardly believe I actually had to hike this trail, but there was no other way. About halfway down, my feet slipped out from beneath me, but my poles kept me from going over. I later realized that I was walking on bald tires; I had worn off the treads of my hiking boots walking the Camino.

Soon thereafter, we entered the beginning of the cloud forest where we saw bamboo forests, delicate wild orchids, sparrow-sized hummingbirds, hundreds of flitting colourful butterflies and we were treated to a symphony of bird songs and cicada hums. Ruth Ann and I even saw a cute, little lizard. After about six hours of hiking, I commented that I was dying for a 'cerveca' and five minutes later, we stumbled into this little mountain residence that was serving...CERVECA!!

Playa, a small village of 35 families, was our final destination. As we entered, Carrie and I started handing out school supplies, a gift to us from many students and teachers at our school, Keatsway. Children, frantic to receive a pencil or an eraser, soon swarmed us. Carrie and I had to work as a team and use our best teacher organizational skills to bring a sense of order to the chaos and ensure a "somewhat" fair distribution.

Janet had been waiting eagerly for this village, as San Dennis had promised her a 'normal' toilet. Much to Janet's dismay, the toilet was far from normal. There was simply a hole in the ground with spots for your feet, which were really just a suggestion, as they did not work for tall people. The door did not lock so you had to hold it shut with your head and there was a small bucket of water for 'clearing out your business". We did have to explain to our guide, Dennis, that a 'normal' toilet for us would entail some sort of white porcelain with a handle, chain, or even a button!

That night we fell into an exhausted sleep and despite the misinformed rooster that started crowing at 2:30 a.m., the bunch of horses that plodded by our tent early in the morning, the dogs barking, and chickens pecking at our tent, we had a great sleep...thanks to our invaluable earplugs!

Brave Hearts

The six amigas were actually eager to get up at 4:00 a.m. because at long last we were starting our journey to Machu Picchu. San Dennis picked us up and we were relieved to see a new driver, Mr. Wilbur. Now Mr. Wilbur is a very serious man and we would be very thankful for that quality. On the way to Soriypampa, we picked up our cook, Demetrio, and assistant cook, Marcelino. About 7:00 we stopped for breakfast and our three Highlanders promptly ordered beef and rice. Not being able to stomach a huge breakfast that early in the morning, we had the other option - a white bun with honey. The diffused Peruvian coffee certainly woke us up.

The Andes were towering on both sides of the road and we started up the mountain leading to the stunningly beautiful Salkantay Glacier. The ride to Soriypampa was definitely a white-knuckle ride, even with our serious Mr. Wilbur. The switchbacks zigzagged up the mountainside and Mr. Wilbur manoeuvered us along the pot-holed road, our van teetering precariously on the edge of nothing. Some of us were able to enjoy the spectacular views and some of us kept our eyes glued to the mud walls of the Andes to maintain sanity.

At the end of the road, we met up with our two horsemen, one emergency horse and five donkeys. What an amazing scene - the sun beaming down, the Salkantay Glacier beckoning, the blue sky framing the Andes, the donkeys and crew already trodding up the narrow, dusty path, and the ascent to the Salkantay Pass looming before the six chicas. In five kilometres we had to ascend from 3800 metres to 4600 metres. As we started up this formidable climb, we began to wonder why we had signed up for this trip and I am sure our guide began to wonder as well.

Within the first 100 metres, our hearts were pounding and we were struggling for air. Altitude was still a problem. San Dennis told us the secret to hiking the Andes was to pick a slow pace and just keep going. I tried to focus on his words but I had never experienced such heavy legs and I could hardly lift them off the ground. Each step took all my concentration: one foot in front of the other, up, up, up. We tried to set small goals as motivators - 20 steps before stopping, make it to the next curve, go until absolutely out of breath. Even though we were throwing up and suffering from headaches and exhaustion, we realized there was no turning back. We finally arrived at the highest altitude of our journey - 4600 metres! Here we celebrated in the traditional way, by communally creating a small stone monument, similar to an Inukshuk.

That first day we hiked 14 kilometres in 7 1/2 hours. We did not get lunch until 6:00 p.m. (we were certainly wishing by then that we had taken the full meal option at breakfast as the white bun and snack were long gone). Kathy and Carrie, overcome by the exertion could not even eat lunch. Dinner was then served at 7:30 and everyone quickly gobbled down Demetrio´s tasty dishes.

Because we had not reached our final destination for the day, we had to set up emergency camp in the Highlands, where it was quite cold. We were fairly warm, although it took several layers of clothing to make this happen - Janet wore long johns and three pairs of pants! Our two-women tents were cozy and very comfortable, allowing us to drift off into a deep sleep.

Bat Out of Hell

Our trip back to Cusco with Omar, our driver, started out quite peacefully and we all thought that St. Dennis, our guide, had left him with strict instructions to drive calmly. Our tranquility started to evaporate when Omar kept stopping to get out to check the tires and was driving so slowly that even the big tour buses were whipping by us. Finally, he pulled over to the side of the road and indicated (since he had no English) that the tire was hot. We all felt the tire, but I couldn´t help thinking...doesn´t friction cause heat? We were stopped for half an hour in this sketch little wild-west ghost town where the three people we saw were dressed head to toe with hazard suits with SARS masks. Had we hit a town with the Bubonic Plague? For entertainment, we decided to do a photo shoot with the hippie bandanas that Stephanie had bought us. Bored after that episode, we remembered that St. Dennis had told us that all new cars are blessed before they are driven so we decided to perform a blessing-of-the-tire ceremony. We laughed so much and Omar even participated. We promptly got back into the van and Omar soon there after started to drive like a bat out of hell, succumbing to his Peruvian testosterone and I guess believing in the power of the tire blessing. The rest of the drive was spent with Ruth Ann gasping in horror, Stephanie yelling at Omar to slow down, Linda stunned into silence but her hand going up as if she could stop catastrophe, Carrie yelling out in Spanish that we were going to vomit, Janet mimicking vomiting, and Kathy waving the hippie bandana out the back window so we would not be hit from behind.

On the plus side, we did arrive back in Cusco ahead of schedule, which allowed us to get in a little time to shop for a few items for our trekking tomorrow, which would start with a 4:00 a.m. wake-up call.

Serenity to Stupidity

After breakfast with our host family, we were led to the docks where Angel greeted us. Our stop today was Taquile Island, an island with beautiful views. These Indigenous peoples own their island and control how many tourists they receive. The men wear hats with very large pompoms-white for single men and red for married men.

We had a delicious lunch in one of the most beautiful settings I have ever seen - up very high with Lake Titicaca on both sides and mountains in the background. Our group ate under a brilliant, blue and white billowing canopy, which cast a diffused shade over the beautifully set tables. I decided at this point to go against my doctor´s orders of no alcohol at a high altitude and promptly ordered a cerveza. This energetic New Zealand woman, who was in her early 70s, agreed with my decision and said,¨Good on ya!¨ The problem was, it wasn´t so good on me when I had to immediately descend 530 lopsided stone steps down the side of the mountain to get to the boat.

Upon arriving in Puno, we decided we would shop at the Artisan Market during our free time. Janet ordered open-air bicycle taxis for us and then we scurried off to the bank to get a little cash. We chose the Scotiabank since it was Canadian - MISTAKE #1. Stephanie and Linda went to the teller - MISTAKE #2 and after that mayhem ensued. Ruth Ann got American money from the bank machine and had to line up to convert it to Soles - MISTAKE #3. Janet marched up to the machine which promptly spit her card back out to her and said account non-existent. Carrie and I got Soles from the machine, but in such large bills that we too had to line up in the bank for half an hour to get them exchanged for smaller ones. Jimmy, the teller, took Stephanie´s debit card,looked at it, went to see the manager, and then indicated (since he had no English) that he had no idea what to do with it and flung it back at Stephanie. Stephanie immediately launched into a tirade about this being a Canadian bank and no one could speak English. That is when the police officer started to take notice. Linda, next in line, was lucky enough to get Jimmy as well (now renamed Jimmy the Jackass). She handed him her Bank of Montreal prepaid travel card - MISTAKE #4. Dear Jimmy demanded her passport and then escorted her back to the manager´s office. After 20 minutes, she was back at Jimmy´s booth and when I saw her trying to climb over the counter in order to grab something from Jimmy, I decided to get involved. Jimmy had swiped her card twice and would not relinquish the first slip. We finally appealed to the police officer, who by this time was quite fond of us, and Jimmy returned the paper he had hidden under his desk blotter. An hour later, we arrived back at the hotel to discover our open-air bicycle taxis had left and the hotel receptionist said, ¨No, no, do not go to market without taking precautions. Dangerous!¨ which turned out to be okay because after dinner that night when we ventured back to the bank to try Janet´s card again, the market came to us.

Stephanie, the street-vendor magnet, showed a scant interest in a sweater and we were immediately swarmed by very short women with long, dark braids. Carrie, panicked by the chaos, stood by on guard and was able to spot a potential pick-pocket. Janet, our persistent videographer, managed to capture the whole scene on film while shouting out instructions, ¨Don´t make eye contact! Walk away! Pretend you don´t like it! Scowl! Offer half!" One tenacious vendor trotted along beside us and kept trying to persuade me to buy a sweater as she continually dropped her price and finally said, ¨Okay, lady, FREE¨, which immediately broke down our defenses and Stephanie bought a sweater.

Climbing to Great Heights

Today was a day of climbing to great heights both physically and spiritually. The ¨seis amigas¨ were excited and slightly anxious because of our homestay. Our guide was a little late so we were rushed off to Puno Port where we quickly bought gifts for our hosts: school supplies (many of which we had brought from home), rice, quinoa, noodles, sugar, candles, and of course our water...two 2-litre bottles each.

Our first stop on Lake Titcaca was on one of the 60 floating islands of Uros where the Aymara people welcomed us with open arms. The lives of these people are totally interwoven with the tortoro reed, which grows abundantly in Lake Titicaca. To create these islands, they dive under water and cut blocks of the roots which they then fasten together with synthetic rope. This versitile root is also used as homes, food, and for medicinal purposes.

An Aymara woman ushered Carrie, Fiona, and me into her reed house where she explained her way of life. Haggling for needlework amused us until our group of 22, known as the happy group led by Angel, was invited to board one of their reed boats. Carrie, Stephanie, Linda, and I all flexed our Canadian muscle and took turns paddling the boat toward the next floating island. Before we pulled away from the island, we were so endeared to the women who serenaded us with songs in Quecua, Aymari, French, Spanish, and English (Row, Row, Row Your Boat). That was until one of them later chased us down in a motor boat because she thought Ruth Ann had stolen a cushion cover. After a few tense moments, we were allowed to continue on our way.

After a brief stay at this island, we boarded our larger boat and Angel announced we would be having a three hour cruise to the Island of Amantani, at which point the Canadian chicas broke into a rousing rendition of the Gilligan Island theme song. During this cruise, we had an opportunity to chat with the other passengers. We docked at Isla Amantini where we met our host family and were excited when Angel called for the ¨Seis Amigas¨. Our host mama stepped forward to greet ALL of us. We then began the arduous journey up the mountain, carrying our heavily-laden packs with all our belongings, our school supplies, our gifts of food, and of course our ¨blankety blank¨ four litres of water we had been told to buy. This trek was one of the most difficult physical challenges of my life - second only to labour. At an altitude of 4,000 meters we plodded up the steep mountain under our cumbersome load, only gaining a few steps before we had to stop - gasping for air, stripping off layers of clothing, hearts pounding, swearing at our water, and wondering how long this labour would go on. It was at this point, the sisterhood united and decided we would rent donkeys to ride to the top of Machu Picchu!

Our afternoon event was a hike to view the sunset at the ruins of Pachamama and Pachatata (Mother Earth and Father Earth), which date back to the Tiahuanaco culture 10,000 BC. In this culture, the mother is the most revered as she is the upholder of life and therefore the Pachamama is always a higher point than the Pachatata. When faced with the choice of which hike to take, it did not take long for the sisterhood to decide which hike we were taking - we were all mamas and we were hiking to Pachamama regardless of the suffering involved.

The energy of this special place pulled us along the winding trail past lacey rock walls and stone arches dating back to ancient civilization. Our anticipation and excitement grew as we approached the summit. Finally Pachamama birthed us into this mystical realm where body and soul came together with the spirit of the mountain and the spirit of the sea, as the sun (so revered by the Incas) cast its brilliance over this world. I cried. I cried for the beauty of the nature around me, for the touch of the divine, but mostly I cried for Stephanie who was so deeply moved by this special place, Pachamama.

Later that evening we were adorned in the traditional costume of the Aymara women in order to attend the fiesta held in our honour. Here we engaged in a frenzied cultural dance with the local people and yes these chicas can now proclaim, ¨We have danced at 4,000 meters!!¨

Altitude Stupor and Black Market Towns

Today would be a day of acclimatizing to a new altitude. We left Cusco, which has an altitude of 3,300 meters, and travelled ten hours by van to Puno, which has an altitude of 4,000 meters.

Our day really involved what I have penned ¨The Altitude Stupor¨. Multitasking is now a bygone talent...Stephanie says she can´t even talk and pack at the same time. We spend a lot of energy buying water and of course what goes in must go out! Then there are the waves of fatigue and annoying headaches, but we help each other and of course we do have the COCA TEA, which does give us a delightful sense of well-being and giddiness - three consecutive cups actually gives you a buzz.

Our first stop was at Tipon, which means boiling water. The Incas mostly grew potatoes at this Inca farming site and had developed a complicated aquiduct system. We later turned off the main highway and little did we know what was ahead of us.

We commenced a journey up a narrow gravel switchback road. Our driver Omar is young and quite capable, but he loves to drive FAST. As he ricocheted us up this mountain, our gasps soon turned into screams of terror (even from Janet, our seasoned traveller who has travelled many such roads in India and Crete). When we finally surged though the gates at the top, there was wild applause for Omar and his tip definitely increased because he had kept us from plummeting to our deaths. The Inca ruin was magnificent. We were the only tourists there, which increased the sense of calm and reverence for the Inca history, the breathtaking setting, and Abu, the Spirit of the Mountains.

The ride down was less 'loco loco' and we were able to appreciate the people of the community who continue the livelihood of terraced farming on this mountain. We marvelled at the eight-year-old boy driving the cows up the hill, the vibrant colours of the women´s clothing contrasted against their dark skin, the oxen ploughing the fields, the cutting of the hay with scythes, the independence of the children, the barro (mudbrick) houses and barns, and the community of men meandering up the road to the fields in order to bring in the harvest.

Our lunch was a buffet which included some of the best food I have ever eaten and I am very excited that we get to eat there on the way back to Cusco. The region near Puno is ¨The Home of the Coca Leaf¨. This region always elects the Red Line or Communist Party and our guide Denis is not allowed to stay with us because he is from Cusco.

While passing through the black market city, Juliaca, we were stopped by the police, who apparently look for any excuse to pull over cars from Cusco. Denis would not even let us venture out of the van because it was too dangerous, but we were quite entertained by the street vendors and watching to see if our driver would be hauled away. Interesting that the people of the Red Line Party who profess the communist values of of equality among the people and the sharing of resources are supplying the black market and are actually racist to other groups of Peruvian people.

Happy Birthday - My First Glimpse of the Andes

After two nights of next to no sleep, I could hardly believe I was rising at 5:00 AND after flying for an entire day yesterday, I could hardly imagine I was once again boarding another airplane. That might explain why the Machu Picchu Chicas were just a little relaxed about getting to the airport...BIG MISTAKE! Carrie had a hunch that we had not left enough time and tried to point this out to our guide, but he assured us we would be fine.

When we finally arrived at the airport, we decided we just HAD to have some ¨good¨ Peruvian coffee. Carrie tried to hustle us along, but we couldn´t decide what to order and the server was delighted to have such a captive audience and relished in explaining all the different beans and which part of Peru they came from. It was when we fianlly had our coffees in hand that we heard our flight number over the loud speaker system. Mass panic ensued as we had not even passed security yet. We slapped lids on our coffees and raced through the halls like we were in the amazing race (by this time they were calling our names over the loud speaker). We arrived at our gate just as they were closing. Luckily they let us on, but you can imagine our dismay when they told us we had to leave our coffees behind! All those full cups of coffee left sitting on the garbage can.

The flight into Cusco was quite relaxed and they even served coffee. Our first view of the Andes was breathtaking. At an announcement from the pilot, everyone on the right-hand side of the plane stood up and we all beheld the miracle before us...the majesty and strength of the mountains and this wonderful city of Cusco nestled among them.

I was nervous stepping off the plane as I had already experienced some effects of altitude as the plane was depressurizing. I bought coca candies the minute I got outside, hoping they would help. Our white van took us directly to the hotel where we were served coca tea, even before we checked in. To acclimatize, we promptly went to bed. My room was on the third floor and I could hardly breathe by the time I got up there and my heart was beating so fast.

For lunch we were driven to the most delightful restaurant. We had salad with a very tasty dressing, beef with a berry jus, and potatoes that were to die for. Peru is the home of the potato and they grow over 5000 varieties. For dessert we had a spectacular mousse made from the maracuya fruit. Our guide had told us to eat light, but who could refuse food like that, especially after we had been eating airport food for so long. Alas we could not have alcohol because of the altitude, but we did have the coca tea. It was here that Linda succumbed to the altitude and she had to return to the hotel to rest.

Denis, our amazing guide, took us to Sacayhuman (pronounced sexy woman so he told us). We walked up to this incredible ruin which had once been the home of the Incas. The sun was hot, the air fresh, and the view spectacular. It was in this setting that Denis began to tell us the Inca history. I will never forgot Denis, who is descended from the Incas, walking on these sacred ruins, surrounded by the majesty of the Andes, and so at peace in this space, so respectful of his past and reverent of the calmness and power of the nature around him.

We also visited the ceremonial centers of q´enqo, Tamboma known as the baths of the Inca, and the cathedral; each site so amazing and awe-inspiring.

To finish the evening, Ruth Ann, Stephanie, Janet and myself went out to celebrate my birthday. I was serenaded by a traditional Peruvian music group and given chocolate cake with a candle. What an amazing birthday. I had been given the gift of the glory of the Andes, the gift of friendship and laughter, the gift of song, and the gift of a rose, which was so significant to me as the Patron Saint of Peru is Santa Rosa.

Peru Without a Guide

"If you do what you've always done, you get what you've always got
Don't dream your life, live your dreams."

With these words in mind, the Machu Picchu Chicas are off to Peru this morning. Our beloved guide, Gianni, had a family emergency in Ecuador, and will not be able to accompany us, but we trudge on confident in the plans Gianni has laid for us, and open to the lessons of faith, hope, and trust in the human spirit.

Our early morning (5:00 a.m.) Departure bristled with excitement. The Waterloo Chicas were chauffeured to the airport by the very capable Greg Bentz. After a non-descript flight to Miami ("That's the way uh huh uh huh we like it!") we had to wait a few minutes to disembark and we were overcome with the urge to belt out this familiar Bon Jovi tune:
Oh Oh we're half way there
Oh Oh living on a prayer
Take my hand and we'll make it I swear
Oh oh living on a prayer

One of my favourite parts of a good adventure is the community doctoring that becomes part of daily life. We started our self doctoring he very first day before we even left North America.
"What did you bring for meds?"
"Did you bring something for altitude sickness?"
We soon discovered that five of us had the exact same altitude sickness pills and each of us had completely different instructions. So...we pooled our med instructions, threw in a good dose of common sense, and all popped a pill ... Our FIRST team-building activity which was soon followed by our SECOND team building activity:
"Do you get dizzy when you stand up?"
"Does your head tingle?"
"Do you feel disoriented?"
We decided then and there that a lack of alcohol due to altitude could be made up by our meds. Tomorrow we are taking two pills.