Journey to the Sacred Mountain

Day one: the ice Queen
Today was the start of my four day three night trekk to Match Picchu. I was with a group of twelve other people from all over the world, Ierland, Germany, Isreal, Columbia, South Kora and Spain. To kick off the trekk we started with a ” mountain biking portion.” This mountain biking consisted of riding a mountain bike down a road. Yes it was a big mountain and yes it was raining at the top. I didn’t think I had paid for mountain biking and for some reason was not the most excited about it but I decided to give it a try regardless. So I suited up in the elbow pads, knee pads, gloves and helmet. I can’t remember the last time I was so miserable. I tried to stay in the moment and to enjoy the new experience of ice water stabbing my eye blasts at a high speed, water falls of water draining from my legs into my boots and the sensation of not having hands but needing to pull the brakes… I quit. In a rather dramatic way, I told our guide in Spanish that I didn’t like it at all it was not enchanting! Hahah oh well. Once in the van again I joined the two guys from Israel whom help warm my frozen hands by sticking them in their arm pits ahhahaha, breaking boundaries.
The rest of the group made it down the mountain and though the rivers that where gushing over the roads and enjoyed themselfs. It’s been a while since I quit anything and it took a lot if emotional strength for my competitive ego to say enough is enough. One other German girl joined me after another five minutes. To be honest all that was going through my head while is was gritting my teeth was a risk vs. repercussion graph and how I would handle the situation if I was leading a group. On one hand some people in our group loved the challenge and others just gritted it out for the experience; if I was leading I would have said hell no, it was bad. I was ” that kid” in the group today, though it was a humbling experience. The group is really great; everyone is down to have a good time regardless of the weather. It’s be very fun to communicate and share cultures with this laughing group of individuals. We spent the rest of our rather leisurely day playing on a bridge, drinking beer, eating, and sharing chocolate. I ate too much today and didn’t get in any exercise. Feeling off I expressed this to my new Colombian friend. She informed me that body image is a HUGE deal in Colombia and that most girls receive boob jobs for their Quincinera!!!
Day two: Welcome to the Inca trail
Many thoughts raced through my head yesterday as we hiked through the sub tropical jungle. We passed and crossed three rivers that where ravenous enough to eat a bear; white water frothed under the brown mixture of topsoil and sand. The rivers and the streets feeding the rivers where vicious! Everyone in a while you could hear the thud of a boulder get dislodged and roll 2 or 3 times before finding a new resting place. The stories of past rain storms where told by the size of landslides blocking our path. Turns out summer time is rainy season here. Rainy season is also the most dangerous time to came hence why the trip was half priced, hehehe.
The hike was enjoyable. Every time I needed a break from the intense incline we conveniently made a stop a house with a monkey and a Señora selling fresh Chicha, fresh Maraculla juice and home made chocolate truffles. Um, yes please. The monkey at the first house was wearing a diper, on a leash and people where taunting it with food and cameras. It was interesting to see the monkey play with toys and enjoy Chicha and Coca leaves, however, I did not get a laugh out of the situation. The second house had a smaller monkey off leash and friendly. He jumped from shoulder to shoulder smiling for pictures and showing off his white mustache.
Our guide Carlos is very passionate about his Inca culture and holds their accomplishments in the highest regards; in higher regards than other ancient civilizations. He claims that the Incas brought corn, chocolate and potatoes into the world of agriculture… I didn’t want to argue. I bought a raw cacao and honey homemade and we headed of for the next portion the trail. Up and up we climbed until we reached a portion of the one of the many Incas trails, not to be confused with ” the” Inca trail because it is under maintenance. The path we traveled was cut into a cliff face and the rocks from the cliff where used as the structure of the trail. The group of us ooohed and awed at the beauty if the scenery and snapped photos of everything.
Landslides are a frequent happenstance around these parts. It’s a mind boggling to me that road constructors haven’t taken a hint from the inca and continue to quickly bulldoze roads along cliffs, anticipate landslides and just bulldoze again. No efforts, that I have seen, have been made to keep the errossion or mountain at bay. Efforts maybe useless, I don’t know. Regardless, it was exciting to clamber over the rocks and forge a new passage to the next destination.
The last walking portion of our journey took us along a road that was temporarily closed because of the season. The rocks here where packed with minerals and where oxidizing, giving the road a rainbow appearance! The site was so beautiful! Rust orange colors streaked across bronze red slate. The road lead to our last river crossing of the day and the most adventurous at that! The crossing was not over a bridge, rather it was in a basket and Lully system about 200 feet above the river! The basket consisted of an open wire structure with wooden planks for a floor. This contraption hung on a secure wire and was operated by our guide and a local Peruvian on the other side pulling the cord attached to the basket. The river below as all the others was raging. Terrifying? Yes. Once in a life time experience? Duh.
After safe passage we soaked our bodies at Aguascalientes, a local Hot Spot. Three naturally heated mineral pools, one hot fall and one cold dunk composed this magical place. It was the best way to finish the days trekk. I taught the group the elementary steps to Watsu that I had been shown my a good friend named Sunshine in Hawaii.
The evening was finished up with dinner and drinks. A small group continued drinking then went out dancing, but I went to bed after dinner. I did not join the group 1. Because I was exhausted and 2. Because it seemed to me the town was pretty impacted by rambunctious tourists; the locals where all grumpy.
Day three: The longest day and the first sitting
Today was the longest day of walking mixed in with a morning sessional zip lining. I originally wasn’t going to zip but for 30$ I couldn’t beat the price. It was a fun experience but it wasn’t challenging. The longest zip was over one kilometer about 1/4 mile over a river valley. Pretty amazing. The last zip I flew upside down for half the time and then got repelled down from a sky platform like bat woman, also hanging upside down.
The walk wasn’t so strenuous as it was long. I tried to talk a bit of what if philosophy ( what if the agriculture exemplified by the Inca community was used today, where would we be) but my audience was not so queen on the topic. Poo foo. I think it was more a matter of my one person audience not wanting to talk philosophy or what if more than anything else, aka not wanting to talk to me, I hope ha. I have come to realize through talks with other wordly members here in Peru that issues that California/the USA struggles with in education, food and leadership are shared with many other countries. I have also come into a deeper appreciation of the US and the efforts it makes, however minimal they may be compared to countries like Germany, in the Green Movement and environmental awareness. For a raw example, I am thank full that there are waste systems in the US as well as recycle systems. In Peru it is commonly accepted to dump your trash, wash your close, use the toilet and drink from the same water system. Traveling puts things in perspective.
Another young fellow from the group and I had a wonderful discussion about life together. He is an intelligent man from Germany working towards his PHD in physical chemistry in an effort t work in the world of renewable energy! An intellectual conversation for sure, as well he speaks four languages. Our topic was spirituality and the church. It took us the whole four hours to the base of the Matchu Picchu mountain.
Our hike started at the back side of Matchu Picchu, glimpsing just a few terraces of the site. The rest of the hike we were teased by other glimpses of the terraces and stone structures that lay waiting for us to explore tomorrow. Matchu Picchu, representing the Male mountain and Wanapicchu, representing the Female mountain sandwich the temples and town of Match Picchu. The site was supposedly closed because of the mountains, male and female, the power of life and the balance of sexes.
Dinner was planned for late in the evening and my new Irish friend Carmela and I needed some food. The two of us ran into the Sapniards and headed for a bar. We bumped into a couple Carmela had met in Cusco and I graciously invited them not knowing they where the less rugged sort of travelers. The girl was from Tahoe! But with further investigation we knew non of the same people and she did. Not exactly share the love of out doors as many of my Tahoe friends do… Turns out she’s early not the Tahoe type at all and likes her life in Pheinix AZ, to all heir own. She spoke with a serious valley girl accent, even when speaking Spanish. After she had departed I asked the Sapniards in Spanish if I sounded like the girl when I spoke Spanish. I was extremely taken aback and abashed when they agreed I did. How embarrassing, but they agreed I spoke more clearly and more in general than they did. These days I am feeling more confident with my speaking and less confident with my understanding, all is a balance.
We headed to the market to pick up lunch for our pilgrimage tomorrow, bread, bananas, cheese, peanuts, mango, avocado, cookies and chocolate. Dinner was uncomfortable to say the least. For one it was way too late and everyone including our guide was a bit hangry. The food was just alright. The confusion came when Carlos started informing everyone about bus and train times. All but my information had been changed… People where not happy to find out that they where now on the late train when they had asked for the early train or that they couldn’t go to Wanapicchu mountain because of passport dilemmas. How I missed out on this confusion I’m not sure. I told everyone that it would all be well because tomorrow we go to Matchu Picchu!
Day four: the Pilgrimage
4 AM! Waking up was the easiest part of the morning. The bridge and main portal to Matchu Picchu opens at 5 AM and the walk to the bridge is about an hour. Carmel and I joined the masses of young persons making the epic pilgrimage up the mountain. It was a morning never to forget. The moon lite our way for the first hour, others had head lamps but it’s a pet peeve of mine to use a light when it’s not necessary. Regardless of the light my feet felt like they had magnets, glueing my foot to the stones with every step. The moon illuminated just enough of each stone step while mist clung to the center of the silhouetted mountains in the most mystical way. On the way up I matched my breath with my foot steps, allowing for an easy sink into meditation. I was surprised at how little I looked down, there was no need, my feet seemed to know the way; I had walked the some thousand steps up the mountain before. My feet knew the way and my breath carried me to the top with strength. No lies to be had it was a hell of a trio up the stairs to the entrance. A full on 50 minute stair masted butt burn on ancient Inca stones. The Sapniards made it up in 30 minutes. W joined them in line as four of the first thirty people to Matchu Picchu that morning. The lyrics to Trevor Halls “way upon a mountain” song flooded into my head and out my mouth. I was quite joyful, and that joy carried me through the whole day. Carlos didn’t really have anymore information of importance to share with us but he did show us some of the main structures of importance:
-the temple of he winter solstice with windows strategically placed to tell the day of the winter solstice and summer solstice. Below the temple is the watering hole, one pool that springs to 16 others.
– the cleansing room, my favorite structure! The room was for persons whom had just traveled the trail and needed to cleanse before entering the temples. Ritual ceremonies and jungle drug journeys where practiced here as well as sound therapy. Window like stone structures lined the walls where you could stick your head in and hum, or in my case Om. You had to hit the right tone at the correct head placement. When I figure out what my placement and tone was, bam, sound vibration cracked through my skull and tremored down my body! Incredible!
– the temple of the Sun, the main temple. Located at the top most point of the ruins and is composed of the peak rock that makes up the mountain the ruins sit upon. The large stone peak was reserved for sacrifices to Matchu Picchu mountain or father sun. A peculiar rock that exactly resembles the Matchuu Picchu ruins site and surrounding river valley lies untouched behind the alter. A neighboring rock also resembles the mountain range boarding Matchu Picchu on the other side of the Uribamba river. Strange. Very strange indeed.
Along with the Matchu Picchu ruins I got to make the climb up to Wynapicchu mountain. More stairs but the view was well worth the sweat. The top of Wynapicchu is said to be the area where the heavens connect to the Matchu Picchu. So I did what any sane person would do and connected my crown chakra, the area I use to connect with the heavens, to the top of the mountain in a head stand. Meditation on this mountain was Powerfull! I almost instantly felt my body swaying to the rhythm of the mountain. It was a bit tough at first to sink further with all e tourist walking about. I worked on centering my chakras. The colors that came to me where EXTREMELY vibe rant, almost electric. I must have been out a while because I was welcomed back by the group with “why, good morning!” Clarity, lunch, and a never ending series of group photos followed.
Before leaving I joined the South Koreans in prayer. I was very resistant to leave. I could have stayed , appreciated and contemplated and observed the ruins for many more hours. I prayed for gratitude, for respect to Pacha Mama and for blessing to my closest loved ones, yes you all reading this blog! As well I prayed that on my return home the people I love, the people I meet and my students can see a reflection of the greatness I have seen in Matchu Picchu. To be able to share a pice of the beauty with those I love. My prayer was the same as my prayer to Mother Kalalau in Kauai, to have the beauty of nature reflected and represented through my actions.
The stairs back down where killer and the rest of the evening went something like: hangry- chaos- happy hour – pizza deliciousness – train time mix ups – chorus
I got to bond with the Spanisrds while working through the South Koreans problem of missing their train. The South Koreans spoke to each other, then to me in their best English, then I translated in my best Spanish and we finally got them tickets on the next train at no cost. After they explained to me the I justice they face as Asian travelers. They speak English ok and Spanish bearly, a few words, because of this people do not give them the time of day the deserve or need. This is very unfortunate because they are some of the kindest, most gracious people I have ever met, and that their culture!
The terai ride back was uneventfull and of course there was a ranger I. The hostel when I got back, but nothing was going to stop me from sleep.

Cusco!

Cusco
Upon arrival to the city of cusco I felt that same energizing electric feeling as when I step off the plane in Lima. The city is BEAUTIFUL! I can see the Influence of the Spanish in the architecture and cobble stone streets surrounding the historical district. Two to three story buildings of brick, red tiled roofs, and every house center is the court yard. There are churches every four blocks and plazas with large fountains! The plaza of Armas is one of the central historical districts highlights. At its center is a gold plated statue of an Incan royalty and surrounding are a large cathedral and a large political building. The east of the square is composed of restaurants and trinquet shops. Each of these buildings has series of arches supporting second story balconies. Some of the arches are simple while others are intricately carved wooden masterpieces.
I made my way to the museum of Inca. Paid a pretty penny for entrance and journeyed through the history of pre Inca till modern day. I was amazed to see the transition in tool composition. In the beginning the pre Incas used sharpened stones as weapons and cooking utensils. Ceramic pots, vases and water jugs where present throughout, however, the shape and style changed. After sharpened stones came the use of obsidian; in areas where I could be found and in areas where trade was prevalent. Spherical stones where used to move larger objects such as other rocks and large pieces of wood. Around the same time the rock spheres came to life metal began to appear in stone basins, bowls and tools. Soon after solid cooper, silver and other solid metal tools began to be forged. Silver cuff bracelets adorned Inca royalty and gold plates where fashioned to public structures of importance as a means to impress the Gods.
I wonder whether the use of metal was cause for a shift in consciousness. This museum has given me the chance to see the growth of, a now, commonly accepted thought evolve! The Incas discovering the most efficient way to accomplish a task. A sight I never want to forget are the “malformed” skulls. The skulls looked something like that of the ancient Egyptians that wrapped their cranium to elongate it, however, these skulls wher not wrapped! These skulls didn’t show the presence of fractures caused by wrapping either. These skulls looked straight up like alien craniums! Standing I front of the crain’ case I pondered about extra terrestrial life a bit long because the security started to give me the eye. I saw mummified bodies that out date the Incas and who’s corpses where mummified by an unknown process. The bodies where all of very small people and where tied in a fetal crouched position with their hands over their eyes or mouths. Gifts of food, jewelry, and ceramics where buried with the bodies so that the person would have the proper supplies to cross into the after life. Bit of a morbid thought, but I would love for people to make my favorite dishes and instead of burn them with me eat them and celebrate!
When I got to the point in history that the Spanish invaded I was a bit disturbed. The pictures and paintings of Spanards beheading Inca royalty and the conversion of an already spiritual people was a hard to look at. The art changed from jungle and animals to European style portraits and Christ… As much as I like to see the art and intricacy of cathedral walls I can’t bear the fact that the cathedrals are built onto of Inca ruins and spiritual sites that where destroyed. The fact that eople of strong faith and spirituality where oppressed and murdered to become part of a mono church culture is very hard for me to comprehend. The depressing part for me is that the Incan spirituality revolved around the sun, the moon, the crops, and the animals. The animals where an integral part of Inca life food, friend, sacrifice and whee an integral part of their art. They don’t teach this in fourth grade when it’s time to construct a mission.
On return to my hostel I ran into an Squaw kids co worker Olly from Scouttland, small world, and what a party hostel…. Oh well. Tomorrow I start my trekk!

Feeling like a waster

The carrots, onions, and other freshness I bought in the market with Hanna didn’t keep very well. The plastic bags supported moisture and thus mold and my beautiful produce spoiled. I had to through it away. I went out to eat the first day in Cusco and got a menu that was just alright and a bit over priced, 12 soles for a soup and an omelet with peppers and potatoes. After I was craving chocolate and stopes in for a hot chocolate, the. Saw the pastries and bought one of those too. The hot chocolate was Devine the pastry however had been sitting for a while. Did I finish the pastry? Of fours, even though it didn’t have any flavor, why? Just like on bus to get to cusco I ate the whole portion of rice sauce and mystery stir fry. Why when I know these things are not good for my body do I eat them? I have come to two conclusions:
1. Food stress: not knowing when my next meal will be
2. Not wanting to waste
I think it’s more of the later. I don’t like to waste food, even when I know it’s not good food, food that is headed for the trash anyways. Something inside me feels the need to eat everything on my plate regardless of how my stomach feels. Also this is the case because normally when I’m full I offer the rest of my food to others around me, however it’s a different story while traveling. Possible ideas for amelioration are: leaving a nibble of food on my plate every time, unless it’s really tastey! Stop chewing and pay attention to the taste and my bodies reaction. Think through where the food is coming from! Is the chicken I’m eating coming from one of the farms I passed in the bus to Cusco where the hens could range but the roosters where in a cage to their necks? Think where the food is coming from Whit, duh!

Carhuamayo . Donde?

I have spent the second part of my Peru adventure with my girlfriend friend from college Hanna Dalton. She boasts being the highest Peace Corps volunteer in the world, 14,000ft! The bus ride out to see Hanna was one for the records. I woke up a bit hung over from my days at the Pariwana collectively. Luckily the woman at the front desk was nice and called me a taxi, my taxi driver was nice and made sure that we where at the correct station, unfortunately the bus driver of who’s bus I accidentally stored my pack was not as nice. He made me wait while he got his shoes polished before opening the undercarriage so I could retrieve my life and place it on the correct bus. I was the first on the bus and the first one asleep on the bus. When I woke up we where in the strangest city. It was hotter than a Sacramento summer mid August and looked like the Palm Springs desert. However, instead of beautiful colored mountains, the mountains surrounding the city looked like giant rock and sand pilings with houses neighboring recent land slide areas. Strange place. I finally got a seat mate but was still to out of it to make conversation. I tried to fall back asleep a few times but alas it’s hard to sleep when you think your having a heat stroke, the worst part of this situation is that there is no place to go. I had packed a bag of fruit including two pealed prickly pear fruit, mango slices, a papaya ( not my best idea with that one) and plantains. I offered my prickly pear fruit to the woman sitting next to me because she looked as miserable as I felt. We sat in silence for half an hour quenching our thirst on the sweet fruit. Once we finished the cactus fruit we started in on the mango slices and mustered a bit of conversation.
Mary is a 27 year old from Cero de Paso, a neighboring town to Carhuamayo even higher up the mountain at 22,000 ft. She has been morning the death of her mother for the past six months and is returning from a visit to see her sister. She told me that her mother was her travel buddy and they cruised all over Peru in a bus snacking and talking as we where. We talked story about our countries and focused on the animals in each. Once it finally cooled off we both passed out to rest. Before i took my leave for Carhuamayo, Mary instructed me to put on my warm layers and gave me her gloves; a beautiful pair of alpaca knit fingerless gloves with the ever so handy mitten flap, so functional. I traded her my favorite handmade head band and told her how special it was because my best friend Margaret had made it special for me. It’s composed of my favorite colors. I need to call her and catch up, the kindness she showed me I will never forget.
Hanna was waiting for me at the bus stop with her adorable pooch Taber. I was quite the spectacle in Carhuamayo, light skinned, light haired, light eyed people are not in abundance in this remote mountain town. There was quite literally a small crowd around me when I got off the bus.
Rural high Sierra Peru is what fairy tales are made of. Beautifull green rolling hills lead to crop covered slopes and then onto snow and glacier covered mountain tops. Nothing grows but grass and wet land vegetation. The houses are made of a combination of local supplies, cinder blocks, bricks, reddish earth/clay, and peet. Peet is a dark organic matter composed of sheep shit, dirt and grass, some houses are solely made of this material and it doubles as fuel for cooking.
Hanna’s host family lives in the only two story house on their slope. Her host Dad built the whole thing himself and just finished the rather large kitchen. The kitchen is the gathering spot for meals as well as tea time! Hanna’s host momma is a sassy and libations character that enjoys bossing people around, especially the people working her friends market stand, Ha. In the two nights that I stayed with the host family I whiteness the family devour bowls of chicken foot stew as well as the maximum amount of carbs any person could consume. I am intrigued by the chicken foot stew but as a precaution to my health I merely admired the dish. As for the carbs, the family diet consists mainly on carbs as they are inexpensive and there are 7-11 mouths to feed on any given night.
During my first full day in Carhuamayo I got to experience my first full fledged Peruvian market, the Friday Ferria. Practically evey street in Carhuamayo was lined with vendors, some familiars but mostly exotics. There where medicinal tents selling cooked frog stew for a number of other ailments. As well there where other jungle herbalogists demonstrating rituals and sporting showy outfits. There where roasted llama heads for sale and still bloody sheep skins. There where collections of jungle fruit that I knew and then piles of new shaped and colored fruit. Tents where filled with colorful skirts, socks, hats, pants, and scarfs. Meat vendors could be care free because the climate does’t support bugs and keeps the meat chilled all at the same time. When someone orders, the person behind the table takes a saw to the carcass in front of them. “A quarter llama please…” Chickens and ginnie pigs where sold live and halved and I gaped, open mouthed at every squash we passed, they where about 50lbs and way bigger than a bread box! My favorite stands where the ones that where fresh, fragrant and colorful, the yarn stands and the herbs stands.
Hanna and I cruised the streets picking up supplies for our picnic and groceries for the family. As well, we sampled food from Hanna’s favorite stands. We tried umitas or sweet tamales, chiclos or boiled Ande’s corn, and a type of passion fruit I can trembler the name of.
Before heading back to the house to prep our food we made a quick stop at Hanna’s first grade class! What fun! The kids where enthrall end to see Hanna outside of her normal visits as well as the foreigner. I got hammered hard with questions from the kids. ” why are your eyes green?” ” Why does your skin look like milk?” It was fun to see their smiling faces even though most of their teeth whee rotting out due to their diet high in sugar and lack of dental care.
Our trip that afternoon to Bosque de Piedras was incredible. The park reminded us of a green Joshua tree. Rock spires covered in colorful moss and lichen alike spiraled and piled high in the most peculiar formations. The altitude made it difficult to walk anywhere quickly so we ended out stopping of lunch 20 minutes into our walk. We sat on a flat rock over looking the entire park as well as a “passing” thunderstorm. When we got to walking against started to hail! Then hail turned to rain and we where getting soaked. It wouldn’t have been to bad if we both hadn’t gotten swallowed knee deep by the sponge like ground. The ground is something worth mentioning as well. The ground was composed of a combination of a star shaped plant and a prickly moss and surrendered under foot with every step, just like a sponge.
The mode of transportation around these parts is by bus or by coche, registered cars that cram as many people as can fit into a Sudan for an economic price. The drivers of these coches are wild! We took three different coches to get to La Merced, the edge of the jungle, a safe jungle town. During the final leg of our trip we got stuck with a driver who was either reckless or extremely talented. It brought into question the amount of trust that I put into my coffers in this country, once in the car I am at the mercy of their driving. This last driver was taking blind corners in the opposite lane of traffic! Poor Taber got car sick for the first time…in my hand. Vomiting is a strange theme throughout my Carhuamayo trio to be touched on later.
La Merced was a funky town. We stayed at the Hotel Fanny, they didn’t have not water or a pool as they had claimed online, or at least the pool was a moto ride away. Hanna and I spent our time in La Merced sampling different foods, heladerias (ice cream shops) and cremalados(fruit mush frozen slushy deliciousness). Que Rico! The first night we had Chefa, a combo cuisine of Chinese and Peruvian food. The second night we ordered a menu de la dia, “Eat like a rich tourist, pay like a backpacker.” Menu’s are perus best kept secret, maybe not so secrete, but you have to ask for the menu it will not be handed out. Our one excursion away from the plaza was to a waterfall. We had to cross a very sketchy draw bridge to get to the trail head. The wooden planks that composed the bridge where patched together and where spaced four inches apart. It felt great to get under the fall! Our trip back to Carhuamayo went much more smoothly than the way in. Our driver on the way back was a boss when it came to communication, he didn’t just honk the horn he laid on it! There was a point in the trip that we had to pass through construction and at the end of the site was a wooden blockade keeping traffic flow regulated. Our driver didn’t even touch the brakes when approaching this blockade he simply punched his horn for a solid minute and watched as the workers scrambled to move the wooden horse. The second part to my puke theme was also in this car. I sat next to a man that had just had his appendix taken out and spent the two hour trip spitting up into a plastic bag…
Before taking off for Lima once more to catch my bus to Cusco I stocked up on groceries in the local market because food in Cusco was for sure to be more expensive!
My bus for Lima left at 11pm and I was lucky enough to be accompanied by the Host Papa, he had work to attend to in Lima. I got to sleep most of the way on the bus but was awoken every hour or so to the woman next to me puking into a plastic bag! Ug, because of the altitude and the windy roads I have never been surrounded by so much pucking in my life. Papa woke me up when we etched outer stop two hours before I had expected to arrive. He instructed me to head upstairs to the waiting lounge and hang, I didn’t know why, but I trusted him so I did. I eventually figured out his plan was to continue to sleep I the waiting area until it was light out. When I was ready to go he helped me grab an honest cab and I was off to hang at some plazas in central Lima. I thought that I had a half day to kill before my bus to Cusco that left at two. So I read my barrowed Lonely Planet book, napped in the shade, explored the art exhibition park, and ended up hanging out with a man from Japan for two hours. This man took me by surprise asking me where I was from in the states and if I spoke Spanish. I was very leery at first but his charisma and humor soon took over my distrust. I wanted an iced coffee and he was looking for Japanese food, we settled for juice. We talked, in Spanish, about life in Japan and how he has three cars because he wants three cars. As well we talked about the ever troubling issue of the forward ness of the men in Peru. He says that women in Japan wear very short skirts and skimpy clothing but the men still have respect for these ladies, where here a woman gets pawed at endlessly for wearing jean shorts! We agreed to visit one another one day, heheh, he is about 59 years old and has a daughter who’s 30 and works for American Airlines and speaks five languages!
Turns out in my frustration with the internet I purchased my bus ticket for tomorrow not today and only found out after getting a security officer to help me cut the line because my taxi driver was an idiot and took twice as long to get me to the station and I thought I wasn’t going to make my buss, who’s the fool now? I hauled my bags back to the street and vented to a bag coffer, he was eating a chiuppie and I had to have one, he graciously bought one for me, laughing I said I would see him tomorrow.
So here I am back at the Pariwana for an evening. It’s interesting to see the few individuals that are still here. Two other encounters to mention. While I was watching a group of youngsters slack line in the park I was confronted by another Japanese Peruvian man who was going to school to be an actor. Yukur was very refined and respectable. Today has been my top day for strangers approaching me for conversation. The last a bit strange, I watched a kitten get hit by a car and was helpless to do anything about getting it out of the street, luckily a woman ran out to save it. I have never seen anything like the sort or felt so helpless, aye aye aye.
Great news! Tomorrow I’m off to Cusco and I found a place that sells iced coffee in Miraflores thanks goodness! 21 hour bus ride here I come, next stop Matchu Picchu!!!

Lima and the Pariwana

I hit Lima in a full force sprint. The past five nights and six days have been different from my norm and more of a blast from my past summer blazen style. Within five minutes of arriving at my hostal, the Pariwana Miraflores, I met Feorella, or Feo. She invited me to join her and her friend for my first Pisco sour once I had settled into my room. I could have been a hermit and stayed in my room after a long day of travel but the energy I felt from arriving in South America was ecstatic and I knew I needed to be social. Social is what I got alright. The beautiful bartender Salvador fixed me my first Pisco sour; Pisco alcohol, limon, egg whites, a splash of soda, and three drops of bitters to top it off! Que Rico!
Feo was visiting a friend who was in town from Brazil, the two if them took me under their wings and took me out. We picked up an Argentinian Phycologist along the way named Frederico. It was a Saturday night and the bar distric Barrco was packed with people our age ready to spend their weeks pay checks. Feo took us to her favorite dive dance bar, what an incredible experience. The bar played only Latin American music from rap to salsa, I didn’t know a single song and yet I love them all. Everyone in the place was shakn it, men and women alike. In fact most of the men in the place could shake it better than I could, not that it’s hard but, just out if my norm. I was the tallest woman in the place, almost the tallest person, and was clearly the whitest person in the place. We stayed out until 2:30am and where some of the first people to leave.
THe next day I got to know Frederico very well. Frederico is an amazing human being, what he lacks in height he makes up in humor and charisma. I found him at the breakfast table the next morning and he invited me to go exploring with a few other Argentinians he had met in the hostel. Here I must interject and comment on the open heartedness of the people of South America I have met so far. They are willing to share everything; food, drink, smiles, and lots of conversation. I am always greeted with a loud “Whitney! Como estas?” As well as a hug and a kiss on the cheek to boot. Happiness is in abundance here.
Of course I agreed to go explore Miraflores with the group I couldn’t say no to the opportunity to adventure and connect. I was a bit relieved when our plans to rent bikes fell through as I had just sent all of my clothing, minus the shortish dress I was wearing, to finally be laundered. As we wondered to the beach a miracle happened. I ended up running into the couple I had sat next to on the airplane. Alysia and I had talked for three hours in Spanish and two more in Spanglish. Her husband put ear plugs in before we took off because he knew how much is wife liked to talk, Ha. It was beautiful running into them again on the streets of Miraflores.
After making our way to the ocean over look we walked to the center of Miraflores to visit ancient Inca ruins. Yes ruins in the middle of the city and only 20% of the ruins had been uncovered. I am still dumb struck about seeing the ancient hand prints embedded in the hand pounded bricks that composed the temple. To think that the bricks where hand crafted some 800 years ago by people that where five feet tall.
During the tour I got to know Iman, a Swede of Persian decent; I look more Swedish than this Swedish resident. Iman is a beautiful soul that everyone knows and likes because he has a big heart that he speaks the truth with, gives great hugs, has a powerful precense, and has a stunning perspective on life; he is awake. By the evening, Iman and I where deep into a conversation about self placed limitations and the Laws of Attraction. The evening continued with a BBQ and Fernet, a traditional Argentinian beverage. I only had a drink or two as I wanted to stay aware enough to practice my Spanish, which I did until 4 am!!! At times it was difficult but speaking is getting easier.
The next day I slept in till noon! I joined Iman and my Argentinian friends for a few hours before heading to lunch with Iman and his friends from Sweeten. It was refreshing and eye opening to meet Fafa, Leo, and their son SomSom( I believe I spelled these correctly). like Iman, Fafa is a Swede with Persian decent while Leo is originally from Chile. They came to Peru from the stomping grounds of the immigrant and refugee neighborhoods of Sweden, they tell me that they are call “black heads” because they are not the traditional tall, blond looking person. During the visit I mostly talked to Fafa. She is a a beautiful and inspirational woman and mother. In Sweden she was a belly dancing instructor for young women with the intent to teach young women about their bodies and learn respect. The couple moved to the jungle of Peru some 5/6 years ago to start a more sustainable listyle. They have secured land, water and community in Peru. They teach English as well as yoga to the community and are beginning to gain trust and respect. I got to hear a lot about e European Unions push for mono culture from this group. It was not the first I heard of it but it’s still disturbing to hear that the EU is trying to make it so that people cannot have their own personal gardens and that the only produce that can be sold to the public must be from a registered plant, of course Monsanto has all the registered plants… Anywho it was great to see that this couple is living out their dream and working towards a more sustainable life, while I am still observing these different ways of life. It was also great to see that even though they live a primitive and organic life they know that perfect is not achievable and sometimes you must eat Pizzahut. W ate and ate and ate all day. I had the best ceviche of my life and we ended our eating spree with plain churros for dipping into chocolate sauce and churro rellenos for savoring. Lastly, I am so impressed at how giving Fafa and Leo are. Fafa bought her son and the child selling knit flowers on the street an ice cream without thinking twice. Leo gave the woman in the park coins without thinking twice if she was actually deaf or not. They shared their stories, wisdom, and truth with me openly. They are one happy, touchy feely family that enjoys a good cheek pinching, hehehe.
The next two days and two nights at the hostel I hung out with a group of Venezuelans. I really enjoyed the company of Kati and her gay friend, I enjoyed the company of the salsa dancing man Carlos until he started hitting on me. I spent one evening chatting with this beautiful man who doesn’t speak any English. The conversation was good practice but it’s also very draining, he is an energy vampire. He expects me to return the passion that he shows to me and trying to tell him in Spanish that I’m not that type of girl over and over again is such a turn off. He doesn’t really know me, what I am passionate about, food, health, freedom and nature. He knows that I have “blond” hair, fair skin and light eyes. I am human so yes there is a part if me that craves affection and attention but when it comes with an hour of pleading to drop my plans and visit Venezuela I’m over it. Here is where I am a bit conflicted on one side of my Carlos dilemma is the question of how will I get to know someone if I don’t experience, while on the other side, more often than not my curiosity leads to hurting someone or discomfort…2nd agreement, don’t take things personally, 1st agreement be impeccable with your word. I think that’s where this situation went a bit astray, I do not speak Spanish fluently and could not be the most impeccable with my word. I also think that the place and energy connected with this Carlos encounter was that of the hostel bar. Again, I don’t want to limit myself but people who frequent the bar are not my usual crowd.
My last day in Lima I honored my need for personal space. I followed my feet to a park to enjoy the silence of the city that only a park can bring. I walked and shooed all day. I bought groceries for my travels to Carhuamayo and churros asp a farewell present to my friend Kati. I also successfully found the store that sells pre paid SIM cards, bought one and loaded it up! All in Spanish! In the last hours of my evening I made friends with a new girl who had passed out on the couches in the bar. Out of exhaust ions not dubachery. I had drank one two many Pisco sours and needed something full of carbohydrates in my stomach so we went on a quest, she was another cool cat sola woman traveler. Go us!

Back to the city, on to the plane, off to Peru!

Waking up and leaving by myself, in the dark, was crushing. It was especially disheartening when I had yet to say good bye to the “MexiCANs” who where now staying with a local family. I tried to whisper yell at their door but now answer, I thought all hope was lost but alas, Hadassa merged from the darknes!!! Sadly this was see you later for a while but I will carry her energy and confidence with me in my heart. Always.
I met a woman on the bus who had just completed her WFR in Mastatal of all places and was off to teach environmental ed to high school kids in Mexico. Yet another inspiring sola female traveler! She gave me the name of the greener hostel she was going to stay at in the city if Alajuela which is about half hour closer to the airport. We bought pastries at the paneria and parted ways. I wanted to absorb a few more moments in the park in front of the old church in the local busses of Puriscal. The church is gated all around because it looks as if someone sneezed to forcefully it would come down. The park is one of my favorite spots. As I sat I was joined by a young prophet named David. He spoke from his heart about his dreams of having a farm in the mountains, the void between he and his sister caused by her outlook on the world being based around money, and how his favorite pastime is annoying the bus drivers by riding his rastified bike in front of their vehicles! This was extremely funny to me because the word for annoy in Spanish is molastar, ahhahaha. David is 16 and our entire conversation was in Spanish. He was an adorable Costa Rican version of a skater kid. It’s amazing to me to share such similar passions with someone so young and so far from home. This seems silly and an bit ignorant of me to write but it’s true. I did my best to explain to him my life style and the similarities and differences between California and Costa Rica. It was very durro, rough. He had a great tranquil and friendly energy. The man to follow David did not. Omar started in on the “your eyes are so beautiful” comments about 30 seconds into his introduction. Granted it would be nice for more people me. And women to acknowledge the beauty in others eyes more frequently but he was just attracted to the. Because they where different than his “feo morreno” eyes. I wasn’t getting the right vibes and quickly excused myself so I could head to the bus.
On the bus I politely gave my seat to a woman who was trying to put on makeup standing up, bad idea, and I didn’t mid standing. She luckily got off early so that I could sit next to Gustavo. I picked a winning seat. Gustavo was an exchange host in Costa Rica and graciously walked me through the hustle of San Jose to the bus station that would take me to Alajuela. I didn’t want to stay in San
Jose again, it’s not my favorite city, the problem however is that I had no idea what Alajuela was all about. When I arrived I panicked a little all the people, all the traffic, no wifi signs in site, and with my life on my back I stuck out more than usual. It didn’t help that I walked into a hotel building to ask for directions but the hotel turned out to be the local Stardust Motel if you know what I mean; every room key came with a condom, yikes. I literally ran away ha. Flustered I stopped at the first cafe spot I could find that offered WiFi. The women working where no help, I had to buy an over priced syrupy coffee, which I sucked down way too quickly because it was cold and the cold was helping to calm my nerves and GASP the expression hit my empty stomach hard.
I finally found an economic backpackers hostel that is extremely nice and serves delicious pizza annd has private bathrooms. The place is brand speaking new and beautiful to say the least.
I finally bought a new pen, yay, and spent the rest of the day light hours people watching at the park. It’s wonderful to see so many people enjoying a public park. A few teenagers have been doing dancing lessons, there is live music, and everybody who’s anybody is eating a Mc Donald’s ice cream cone!
The women who joined my bunk room where fantastic. One girl was trying to rent a car here but had no idea how to drive a manual and that’s all they have. I walked her through what to do, wrote her a page of notes and quizzed her, good luck! I instantly connected with this German woman she quite literally walked in the door when I was about to go out for something to eat. She wanted to go to the market for snack and I offered to walk her there because I knew whee it was and did think it was safe to walk alone. We spent the rest of the evening talking story and sharing pizza on the roof top bar of the hostel over looking the three cities that make up the valley. To complete the night and both of our stays in Costa Rica there was a fire work show.
A few comments to remark and remember:
– the woman on the bus this morning freaking out about the layer of dust on the seats, she was from the paved road side of town…
– the coconut deliciousness from the paneria in Puriscal that was covered in condensed milk!
– the little girl forcing her mom to stop walking in the park so that she could shake her booty to the music, she looked about a year
– the children chasing the birds and the adults playing with the squerills
– the oblast lady and the twig of a man makin out on the park bench, get it!
– the number of girls under twelve wearing wedge heels
– the little boy taking a pee in the middle of the park
– the absurd line for Mc Donald’s ice cream cones
– the feeling of trying to hold on to my heart as I left Mastatal, many cherished memories Villas, many, many

A great closure

I final any felt up to par and ready to rage! I worked hard yesterday and it felt great. I even think it’s a bit strange how much I like physical labor. I think it’s because I like to use my body to its fullest, as well I am always pushing my boundaries to see what I can handle. Turns out I can handle about four straight hours of shoveling and pay for it in the fullest the next day.
When we dispersed in the morning I could help up jump into a laborious task even when other recommended I rest another day. I had a surplus of energy and laughter to extrude. There where two other ladies that started out shoveling with myself and the usual Tico hired hands and strapping young gents who have been working on the construction project for some time. We lost the girls about two hours in but gained the female counter part of our farm “Frenchie” couple, she can shovel! We automatically teamed up filling a wheel barrel but girls will be girls and we let one of the boys empty the wheel barrel. I realized that this was the third bathroom/dorm project that I have worked out in my life, what a funny structure to have recurring in my life. It’s wonderfull the new level of respect you gain for the people when you work side by side with them. The “Yan-imal,” Rojo, Randal, Javier and the Frenchies are forever in my books as determined, hardworking and fun individuals. The Ticos (local Costa Rican men) especially blow my mind. Like the stone chiseled fijian’s from Niwasomo, the Ticos in Mastatal are built for endurance labor. I watched Randal swing a pick axe with such ease and finess my jaw dropped and Javier could be crowned the champion for the wheel barrel sprint. I wasn’t disappointed to when the lunch bell rang.
The rest of yesterday afternoon was icing on the cake for my Costa Rica trip. Juan Louis, the chocolate man, came at lunch and I stalked up! Lunch was fried rice, guacamole, and beats! Jesse and I cruised to a new waterfall and talked about men’s interactions with women in Mastatal and in the states. Yet another compare and contrast conversation. The presence of foreign women in the pueblo of Mastatal is a relatively new thing. It seems that the single men of are becoming accustom to the constant swing of new women into the area and do get to continually peruse new endeavors. In my experience/understanding boundaries are a bit blurred, men young and old are very forward about how they feel about how you look and how they think that you should stay for longer in Costa Rica; I quite literally haven’t had a conversation with a local that hasn’t involved the words “you have such beautiful eyes” and “you are so very tal.” Now that I’m writing this it sounds vain (what girls doesn’t wasn’t to hear that they have beautiful eyes)but I think there is a difference in receiving a complement and getting hit on my every male that sits on a park bench next to you because you are white with light hair and light eyes. With that it’s very interesting to see that every advertisement, every one, features fair skinned individuals. Like in the states where extremely thin, toned, white toothed, nicely tanned, and tall women are the projected image of a woman, white women are the projected image of beautiful in Costa Rica. This projection and conditioning makes walking around town for me a bit tricky. In the states it’s common for men and women to hold a friendship and be able to hang out without the pressures of something more than a friendship. It doesn’t seem that men can hold a mutual relationship with a single woman here(this is a generalization based on pueblo life and recent life experiences). On the flip side, when traveling to a foreign country people seem so much more attractive to me, from their style to their mannerisms, because they are different from my own. These differences insight in me a curiosity making everything and everyone that much more beautiful. So there is some compassion to show for the slightly aggressive and forward locals.
We arrived at the falls and had a hay day hehehe there was a deep pool and a Tarzan vine to swing on. I wished the cloths I was wearing in the river as well as my body; after all morning of shoveling it looked like I had gone and gotten an all’natural spray tan. On our way back we managed to pick three coconuts, devoured two ourselves and shared the third. It gets better, Kat, a spunky lady from OZ was leading an Acro yoga session! I got to play and teach along side her. It was great fun to see all the boys so enthusiastic about yoga, more so that the ladies in the group. After Acro I thought all the arm balances I know and everyone did surprisingly well! We finished with a meditation on community (admittedly not my best work but room for improvement is never a bad thing). The most beautiful thing happened to close meditation, we Omed out in waves. The resonance, reverberation and all around Irey vibes generated from the twelve some people that we where was so connecting. After I felt a bit weird because people where so into it and wondering why I hadn’t been teaching earlier. The answer sadly comes from a place of insecurity. Time to share Whit, wake up call!
Wait the evening gets even better, I’m on cook crew with Kat and Rojo (Rojo is the farms Canadian red head who’s really called Deven, but the nick name has stuck). Kat helped me make plantain hash which turned out great considering how ripe the plantains where. Javier took a machete to the remains of Peppe the pig, it was quite a site. Clarification the pig had been slaughtered earlier in the year and parts have been stored in the freezer. Pressure cooked organically raised Peppe was quite delicious. The Frenchies made creeps and Kat made a fresh harvested orange zest sauce with sugar cane juice concentrate, yummmmmm!
The day closed with a bonfire, a special treat for farewells. I wish I wasn’t so distressed about “see you laters.” There was, is, so much I want to say to some people but the words just didn’t come. In English or in Spanish. Ug. I collected most everyone’s contact information, made plans for a reunion in BC this August, and got a small group motivated for Burning man! Great success

A mixed bag of beans

The evening of my sickness a new comer came to the farm. At first he seemed edgy and a nervous talker, but he was new and I was sick and didn’t think anything of it. As the evening progressed is became apparent that the new guy was truly a bit off. He talked to himself at the dinner table and when prompted with a question he didn’t quite answer with any relativity to the topic. He ended up bunking next to me and talking in his sleep all night. Apparently we had a sleep conversation… He was no where to be found she. It came down to working in the morning and once he did show up he could comprehend the idea of raking leaves or shoveling dirt from one spot to the other. He quickly became the talk of our small community. I was still feeling under the watcher and not really attached to the drama. People where talking because they where uncomfortable with his energy, none of where on his level, none of us could relate. It really hit me something’s up when I watched him “barrow” Crystals towel to mask his screening. I was very distract at this and also very torn to tell someone about it. One side of me was saying everyone is different and everyone handles there shit differently and the other side was yelling danger. I calmly explained what had happened to someone who could translate more Leary to Raquel in Spanish what was going on. I felt like a five year old tail tale because I hadn’t asked him if he was alright or needed to talk first, I just assumed the worst and went behind his back(or so it seemed that way in my mind). However, later I the day when I whit eased him muffling another scream I asked him if he was alright, he sternly replied he was fine…poor fellow had just about discomforted everybody at the farm in a matter of hours because he was dealing with some serious internal conflict. I was still turned off by the energy and attitudes some people where using when talking about him. Never been a big fan of gossip and don’t see that changing soon. I was mulling these thoughts over in my head while sorting beans. An analogy hit me that we are all different beans. We all have different colors, shapes, textures, names and qualities, but even the rotten, halved and wrinkled beans have a purpose. The beans I picked out of the pile and dreamed unworthy for the humans to eat I put in the pile that would be sent to the pigs or to the compost, either way, human, pig, compost, those beans would eventually be returning back to the earth. All people in thins world serve some purpose and all people return to the earth like the beans. I found a new appreciation for the mental new kid and for the quality of food that I eat with this analogy. It felt good to share t’s thought with Kelsea and to later meditate on Meta, compassion, after the new kid had left the farm. Javier and Raquel made sure he was off on the first and only buss the leave Mastatal at 5 am.

Jungle Fever…

…And no this jungle fever did not come with a beautiful Costa Rican man. So apparently it’s a theme for people to visit the beach and catch some sort of bug… And that’s exactly what happens. I can’t remember the last time I was this sick or feverish. The day seemed like an eternity. My fever matched the sun, it go higher and higher. In the morning when it wasn’t so bad and I thought it would just pass I refused to take Tylenol or other process drugs, however, ten hours later when my fever reached 103 and I felt like my body was being rung out like a kitchen towel, I took the mess. My farm momas got me water, electrolytes, and ice. Needless to say, I spent the entire day laying on the tiled floor of the kitchen because it was the collets and quietest place on the farm. My fever broke around five and I woke up feeling half alive. At one point in the day I hit a point of hysteria where I was laughing and crying all at the same time. Laughing because in my mind I was going through the physiological steps my body was taking to beat the bug and how ridiculous my geek brain can be and crying because of the pain. I think I scared a few people… Breaking boundaries right?