There And Back Again

We have returned to the United States. I can't say we either rejoiced or grieved as we returned to Schenectady, we simply accepted the fact that all adventures have to come to an end so new ones can start. At least people weren't auctioning off our belongings and thinking we had just disappeared.

After spending one last day with out aunt in Guayaquil, Ecuador, she went to the airport and we went to the bus station. We boarded a bus that took us to the beach in Peru, where we walked in the surf for an hour before we had to catch an overnight bus to Lima. All went well until 7:00 am when our bus pulled into a terminal seven hours north of Lima and we were informed that our bus was delayed 24 hours due to a protest in the highway. Now, lest you think that Peru is completely out of control, please understand that these protests are actually quite common as they are the only way for the people to get the government's attention. So, people, in this case the cotton workers, put stones in the road and sit on them until someone in a big office realizes traffic cannot move and does something to appease the workers. Because we had nothing else to do, we sat and sat and sat. Meanwhile the bus grew warmer and warmer as the clock ticked towards midday.

Jim made some phone calls and we figured out it would be cheaper to take a taxi the last seven hours to Lima than change our flight, which was scheduled for 5:50 the next morning. Just after sending an email to our parents saying we were going to take our bags, walk through the protest (Jim and walked there earlier and said the protesters didn't look too angry or dangerous), and take a taxi to Lima, the buses began to move. It took a while for the 200 buses to make their way out of the terminal, but we were finally on the road once more. We arrived in Lima 10 hours after we were scheduled to arrive, but, oh well, so goes life in Peru.

After showers as some friends' house, we took at taxi to the airport at 12:30 am. We figured sleeping would be sweet, but the rising for our early flight would be miserable. Starbuck's free internet and not-so-free coffee menu kept us occupied. Our flights went off without a problem: Lima to Bogota, Bogota to San Salvador, and San Salvador to New York. The local time in NY at landing was around 10 pm. There aren't any buses going to Albany at that hour, so, once again, and for the second consecutive night, we stayed in the airport. This time we took turns sleeping on a cushioned bench while the other watched the luggage. For the record, staying awake at 2:40 in the morning after a day of flying and a sleepless night before is extremely difficult.

In the morning, after two train rides, one bus ride, and four hours, we arrived in Albany. It was rainy. The last feeling of warmth from the South American sun faded from our skin and the clamminess of Schenectady clung to lungs like a wet down-pillow. Need I say more?

We Ate Worms

Actually, they might have been caterpillars ... we're not really sure. We saw giant yellow wriggly things that were skewered on a stick and roasted for 15 minutes over a fire until they were crunchy. You wouldn't believe us if we told you they were actually very good and tasted like escargot , so for the record, the worms were disgusting. 

The worms/caterpillars were part of our dinner the last night of three that we spent in the jungle, a half-hour hike from the nearest house. The cuisine was mostly "jungle foods," from around our cabana, including the worms. We also harvested and ate yucca, wild onions, and the marrow of a palm tree. 

When we met our Aunt Leslie at the Quito airport last Wednesday evening, we didn't know exactly what we were going to do--only that it was going to be an adventure. As we were lying in our beds early the next morning, we decided to go to Mindo--the birdwatching capital of Ecuador. We arrived at the bus station outside of the city 40 minutes too late to catch the last bus, so after a few taxi rides in search of other buses, we decided to settle for a visit to the equator.

After a fun day at the equator museum and a tour of one of the largest inhabited volcano crater in the world, we found out about a tour the next day to an ancient Kichwan site that was actually on the equator. The site that is now the equator museum is actually about a quarter-mile from the actual equator, according to GPS readings. We hiked up a mountain to a site where, for the last 2000 years or so, the Kichwan people have sacrificed to Pachakamaq, the creator of the world, and observed the equinoxes. 

We rode the bus to Otavalo that evening to go to the Saturday market, said to be one of the largest in South America. We started around 7:45 am at the animal market, where farmers come to buy and sell livestock, including ducks and guinea pigs, and continued first into the fruit market, and then the seemingly endless rows of artesians' stands packed into the streets surrounding the main market square. By the end, we were all clutching large bags full of various gifts and seemly empty wallets. I can't even count how many times we said "alright, we have enough," only to find something else incredible. 

That brings us to the jungle. And the worms. We left Quito Sunday morning and spent the afternoon at a natural hot spring that is said to be the nicest in Ecuador. Even though I forget the name, I will never forget how clear and warm the water was--so warm we could really only stay in for 15 minutes at a time. I hope Seth forgets how I pushed him into the cold water pool. That was a little mean.

We didn't arrive in Tena, the city closest to the jungle we'd be exploring until after dark. We were all outfitted with ponchos and knee-high rain boots and bought what Aunt Leslie described as the "local insect repellent." She said on multiple occasions during our trip "okay, pass me the local stuff--it probably has the most DEET in it." It was so strong, the writing on the outside of the bottle started to smear, but not strong enough to keep all the bugs away from Aunt Leslie.

It was about 8pm when the local operator drove us 20 minutes outside of town and left us in what felt like someone's backyard while he went to pick up our local guides and cook. Eight of us hiked 40 minutes into the jungle, crossing several streams--or perhaps the same stream multiple times--until we arrived at the 3 story cabana and kitchen hut. We were the first tourists there in 6 months, so the crew worked to get our mattresses and mosquito nets ready while we watched a native dance performed by two energetic girls and one reluctant boy.

After dinner, which I confess I don't remember exactly--thus probably chicken and rice--we fell asleep quickly to the sounds of the nearby stream and an army of crickets.

The Race to Waynapicchu

The hike on Day 3 was mostly downhill and only took up the morning. We visited some ruins along the way, had more story times with Uncle Alex, and rolled into camp just before lunch. After lunch we had time to take showers or nap because our wake-up call was 4 the next morning to eat breakfast, get through the checkpoint, and arrive at Machu Picchu before too many of the yuppy tourists on buses arrived.

After breakfast on that fateful day, our group broke into two groups. One group would take their time on the last section of trail, stopping to take pictures, and walking at a leisurely pace. The other group would break the speed record in an effort to receive some of the 400 tickets issued daily for Waynapicchu. We knew we had to get their early because otherwise the yuppy tourists on buses would snatch all of the coveted 400. If you are reading this post, you probably know us well enough to figure out which group we joined.

Our group was the third one through the checkpoint, but we began running down the trail. It was still dark and drizzling. Our headlights bobbed up and down while our ponchos or raincoats flared out behind us. At first the groups ahead of us moved to one side to let us scamper past, but the group right in front had problems sharing the trail. To go into every little detail would make the moms back in the States feel bad, so we will simply say that when the narrow path widened a bit for a moment, one or two of us would dart past. Finally our entire group of 8 (minus those who were taking their time doing the trail) arrived at the Sun Gate, the entrance to Machu Picchu for those who hike the Inca Trail. We all did the trail between 34 and 38 minutes. People normally take 1 to 1 ½ hours to hike that section of trail. After some hasty pictures we walked/jugged down the last section of trail to the office to sign in.

The four of us who hiked down the trail fastest ran into trouble at the office because we did not have our tickets with us. Our guide did, and we had left him behind on the trail when we began running. Other workers told us there were only 10 tickets left to hike up Waynapicchu. This made us frantic, so we tried to get the special stamp before time ran out, but nothing could be done without our tickets. After 20 minutes of talking and begging the guards to let us through, we finally decided we had to go back up the trail to find our guide. Just as we started up the trail, we met him coming down. Now that we had our tickets we rushed through check-in, and then half-ran, half-stumbled to the other side of the park to get the stamp to climb Waynapicchu. There was a long line at the check-in, and the people at the back told us we had to go back to the front gate for the stamp. Exasperated and not knowing where to go for the much-wanted stamp, we ran into our guide, who went to talk to the people at the Waynapicchu gate. He returned to us, took our tickets, and went to the office again. When he came back he told us to follow him. His face was solemn.

Once around the corner his face broke into a huge grin as he waved our tickets with the stamps to climb Waynapicchu. We were so excited we took pictures of celebration by the poor llamas that just happened to be standing in the path at that moment.

The Road to Machu Piccu

Right now Seth and I are somewhere in Ecuador waiting for our night bus to Quito to meet our aunt. Our first impressions of Ecuador are that the cars are newer, the buses are smelly, and the ice cream isn´t that bad. For those of you looking for life advice, one liter of ice cream on an empty stomach in 95-degree heat is a bad idea.

Before we bring the blog up to current times, we felt the need to recount a little bit more of our hike to Machu Piccu, which by the way I´ve finally figured out how to spell correctly.

The morning of the second day hiking was the most difficult, consisting of a 3 hour hike up to the Dead Woman´s Pass, the highest point of the trek. DWP has an elevation of about 13,770 feet and is literally in the clouds. When Seth and I finally made it up, we could barely see anything--which was fine because the wind cut right through all our clothing. We took a group picture, broke up our 1-kilo chocolate fish to eat in celebration, and started down the other side.

By the time we meandered our way down through rainshowers and countless picture stops, the whole group was dead tired. We have a hilarious photo of everyone sleeping with their heads in their arms on the table in the lunch tent. No one really wanted to hike the second pass, even though it was less of an uphill climb than the last one.

Ironically, the views from this part of the hike were probably the best of the trip. The clouds constantly moved up and down the valleys, so a white wall would become a gorgeous view and then disappear in a matter of minutes. At the top of the pass we climbed along the mountain ridge taking pictures just as the sun came out from behind the clouds and we saw blue sky for the first time--it was absolutely breathtaking.

We watched the sun set from one of the Incan´s old guard posts overlooking the trail and heard yet another story from Incan history from our guide, affectionately known as "Uncle Alex" for his friendly and earnest way of telling his stories. Apparently, the Inca´s wanted to guard the existence of Machu Piccu from the Spaniards, so they destroyed the roads leading to MP and abandoned tell-tale guardposts, like the one we visited.

We hiked down to our campsite in the dark, which gave us all the satisfaction of using the headlamps we´d packed along with us. Snack time and dinner .... and the end of day two.

Onward and Slightly Upward

The night before we started the Inca Trail all three of us slept terrible. The room was hot, and at one point I woke up from a dream where I had woken up at 8 am with the sun streaming through the window and our bus long gone. It was actually only 1:30 and we will had three hours until we needed to get up. Finally 4:40 came, we got up, ate, and waited in the still dim streets for our bus. As the bus began the ascent out of Cusco, Jim and Lauren became more and more excited and the volume of their voices rose.

About half-way through our bus ride we stopped for a snack alongside the road. The bathrooms were closed, so we took turns standing guard and running around the building to answer natures' call.

Finally we rolled up to Km 82: the start of the Inca Trail. After standing in line to check-in and standing under signs for photos, we finally crossed the river and began!

The first half of Day 1 was easy because the trail was only 'undulating' (as our guide said), yet hard because it was only the first day and Jim kept stopping people to take more photos (it wasn't until Day 3 that I finally took the camera away from him). We all became super excited during lunch as we ate the hot soup, beef with fries (lomo saltado), and cooked vegetables. This first meal was just a sampling of the wonderful ones to come! After a quick afternoon nap we continued on our way. Towards evening the trail pointed steadily up, so we stopped for frequent breaks on the stone stairs (yes! built by none other than the Incas themselves!) Eventually we stumbled into our camp as the sun started to dip behind the mountains. Much to our pleasure, cookies and popcorn with tea or hot chocolate greeted us in the food tent. Our sleeping tent opened out on the mountain range; we could see the ice glaciers on top of the higher mountains from the door.

That evening in the eating tent we shared stories of one of the favorite places we had visited. People named places from Hawaii, Argentina, Africa, and Asia.

White Jesus

Okay ... it's been a while since we posted and a lot has gone down: our friend Lauren flew down to hike Machu Picchu with us, we explored Cusco, the royal Inca city, and I finally figured out that "machu" only has one c ...

Lauren flew in to Cusco after a grueling 19-hour trip from Nashville at 7am last Wednesday morning. We explored a little and took some long power naps, but our first big adventure was on Thursday--our last Inca Trail warm-up hike, the hike to White Jesus.

The night before, we'd seen a giant statue of Jesus illuminated on one of the hills outside Cusco and we all thought the same thing--"we need to hike to Jesus."

The next morning, we started walking in what we thought was the right direction. Along the way, we saw some school children goose-stepping in eerie resemblance to a certain fascist army and a soda delivery truck half-way tipped over on a cobblestone street and only propped up by some wooden poles.

Eventually, after getting directions and drinking some hot chocolate on a patio overlooking the city, we found the staircase that said "Cristo Blanco"--white Jesus. We started climbing and about 12 steps later we stopped for our first break--climbing steps at 11,000 feet is no joke.

During one of our breaks, we stopped to watch a man carving tiny statues out of serpentine stone--with a bent fork because he didn't have any machines! Needless to say, we picked up some incredible souvenirs and photos.

Soon after our encounter with the statue carver (okay, maybe they were idols), the stairs ended and a maze of narrow dirt paths emerged. We started hiking alongside two engineering students from Finland, who knew as little of the trail as we did, and we were all soon in the middle of the bushes on the mountainside. We chatted for a while and found out they were visiting Cusco just for a few days on their way to Chile to visit a factory for a project.

Eventually, we all decided it was best to keep going up, with or without a trail. We helped each other scramble up 3-foot ledges and avoid pricker bushes until we were almost at the top--when we found a trail parallel to the one we'd just made ... oh well

We spent some time taking pictures with the giant white statue of Jesus and found a much better path on the way down that let us get home before the afternoon rain started. We were ready for the Inca Trail

The Adventures at Suyai Wari

After yet another overnight bus, Jim and I arrived in Cuzco at 6:30 am. It took some time, but after going to another bus terminal and taking a taxi, we arrived in time for breakfast at Suyai Wari, an organization devoted to helping the natives properly use their resources and improving their community. Our arrival happened to be the same week as the reforestation week, so we have spent many hours marking the locations for the trees and digging the holes. That sounds straight forward, but we are in Peru, so it can´t be that easy. And it isn´t. After spending an afternoon marking hole locations in a field, some locals came and complained that they didn´t want the trees there. In the end we had to abandone that field. Another day someone filled in about 10 of the holes we had dug. This turned out to be ok, however, because we had dug them too close to a water line. On yet another day the shovel broke, leaving us with only two picks. The shop in town fixed the shovel, but we managed to break it again, so finally we bought a new one. We also had to buy a new pick because Superman was digging a hole, went to pry out a rock, and broke the metal prong. After that show of strength, Superman wasn´t allowed to eat anymore oatmeal.

Because Superman (Jim) and I both speak excellent English, we have been helping the English teacher at the local school. We help the children say the words properly in the textbook examples. In one class I also taught the kids the names for relatives. The director of Suyai Wari, who speaks very good English, had us fill in for him at the after school English class he teaches twice a week. While we enjoy being teacher at the after school class more than helping at the school, the after school class is difficult because the students are all different levels. We are trying different styles of teaching to ensure the students learn something. As of now we have discovered the students grasp a concept better if they can see a physical action such as, ´I sit on the chair´ or ´He walks around the room.´