Category Archives: Peru

Trek to Machu Picchu: Day 3

Posted on by
Reply

Our third day started with a slightly bizarre zip-lining adventure. Sadly, I didn’t take a single picture, so I’m going to try my best to describe the experience without any visual aids…

Before we could start ziplining, we had to walk for 15 minutes up a ridiculously steep hill. There were no stairs, just an enormous dirt hill, with paths so perpendicular that they handed us ski poles to use on our way up. I must have been severely dehydrated from all the hiking the day before, because I could barely make it up the hill. By the time I reached the first zip line, I was breathless, seeing black spots and convinced I was going to pass out. Luckily sitting for 5 minutes and drinking a lot of water helped, and I was able to keep going. Scary though!

I’ve done a handful of ziplines, including a canopy tour in Costa Rica and adventure zip-lining in Mexcio, and absolutely loved all of my experiences, so this was byfar the part of the trek I was most excited for. I love the feeling of flying through the air, your feet dangling and the air rushing by you, yet knowing you are completely secure and safe. I had fun on these ziplines, but didn’t love the experience as much as I had hoped I would, which was definitely disappointing.

The actual ziplines themselves were fine; we had great harnesses and proper equipment, including thick gloves to break on the cable.  Ironically, it was on the actual ziplines themselves that I felt the safest. The platforms we landed on after each zipline weren’t bolted to the ground/mountain — of course the cable we were on was well secured, but the wooden landing platforms were loose, so when I landed I felt very shaky coming off the line. Between ziplines, we had to walk along paths that were similar to the ones we walked on the day prior in that they were along the edge of the mountain, but they weren’t well marked and were full of lose dirt and gravel. I was more terrified on those paths than the ones I had been on the day before, and I felt more scared walking between ziplines than on the actual ziplines themselves.

I guess this just goes to show what expectations can do: I was the most terrified for mountain biking on day one, but it was by far my favorite of all the “extreme” activities. The zipline was the activity I was most looking forward to, but didn’t end up loving my experience.

On the last zipline, you landed in a platform in the middle of the air (literally, not bolted to anything, just suspended on the cable) and then were attached to a rapel line. The guide then rappelled you down into the jungle below, about 100 feet or so. I was terrified to land on the floating platform so I ended up breaking too early and pulling myself toward it instead. Dan, however, wasn’t told to break early enough and ended up smashing into the platform, right on his shin.

Immediately, a gigantic bruise/welt began to form, so huge we were all terrified he had broken his bone. He wasn’t in pain immediately because his body was in so much shock, so they took him to the urgent care in town to make sure he was okay. Luckily it was just a severe bump with a small cut, and they gave him an injection to prevent infection, some heavy painkillers for later and bandaged his leg. It did mean, however, that he couldn’t walk much on it during the rest of the day, so he had to take the train down to Aguas Callientes, the town at the base of Machu Picchu, and miss the rest of the day with the group.

After our rendezvous at urgent care, the zipline company drove us 40 minutes to our lunch spot. The van ride literally felt like the Indiana Jones ride at Disneyland — the road was so rocky and dusty, the van was literally shaking from side to side, it barely felt like we were moving forward, just rocking up and down. I have come to realize during my time in South America that drivers here — in all 5 of the countries I’ve been in — are absolutely insane. Peruvian drivers, however, are fearless. They will simply push on the gas pedal, with no qualms about the people or other vehicles that may be in the way.

We got to the restaurant for lunch relatively late because of Dan’s injury, so we were the last group to eat. I preoccupied myself with an absolutely tiny and adorable grey kitten, and there was a fütbol match on a TV in the corner, so all the boys were happy. Lunch was a sort of mystery chicken and potato in cream sauce, which was slightly strange, but they gave us two small scoops of ice cream, a very rich vanilla with chocolate chips, that did a great job satisfying my sweet tooth.

After lunch we had a 3 hour walk through the river valley along a set of train tracks. Everything was so picturesque that I kept stopping every 5 minutes to take pictures and ended up lagging behind the group. Juan Carlos stopped to join me, and we ended up walking together and talking most of the walk. We talked about everything from groups of Israeli travelers to relationships to his goal of going back to school to study Biology and eventually become a researcher in the Amazon jungle. I learned a lot about his life and about the Peruvian school system, which allows students to graduate from high school as early as 16. Turns out Juan Carlos went right to college to study tourism after high school, so even though he’s my age, he graduated from college at 20 and has already been working for 3 1/2 years.

I think on all of my trips and time in these various countries, the sites and cities have been really wonderful, but meeting local people and hearing about their experiences, especially when they welcome you into their lives with such open arms, is the most rewarding thing. Carla and Natalia at the B&B in Argentina, Monica and Miguel at their Estancia in Uruguay, even the hostel workers who took us to the soccer game in Montevideo. Yet another cliche, but hearing about local people’s lives and experiences really makes a country come alive.

Our walk was such a great way to end the trek into Aguas Callientes — of course my feet were still throbbing at the end, but it was nice to have a leisurely (and relatively flat!) walk to end the trek!

Because we had all booked the trip separately at different times through a variety of middlemen companies and for different amounts in different currencies (confusing, I know), Stian, Gene and Mat ended up at different hostels and restaurants from Dan, Millie and me on our last night. It was pretty disappointing after we’d had 3 great days hanging out getting to know each other that on our last night we couldn’t all be together, but I guess that’s what happens on these types of trips, especially since June is peak time in Machu Picchu, not everything was available.

After dinner, Dan, Millie and I officially decided to opt out of walking up the long set of steep stairs at 4:30 AM in the pitch black the next morning, and went to buy bus tickets instead. Even though I’m sure the walk up was a great experience and felt like a wonderful achievement (and I could have saved myself the $20 — Machu Picchu is expensive), I was so exhausted from all the physical activity of the last 3 days that I decided not to pressure myself to walk up. In my mind, it just wasn’t worth it, and I wanted to avoid being even more exhausted at Machu Picchu the next day.

We bought some very expensive snacks for lunch at the ruins the next day — Aguas Callientes is a very expensive, very touristy town since everyone has to pass through it to get to MP — and then went back to our hostel to pass out in preparation for our 4 AM alarms.

The rest of my pictures from Day 3!

Trek to Machu Picchu: Day 2

Posted on by
Reply

Who doesn’t love a 5:30 wake up call, knowing you’ll be walking 16 miles up and down a mountain?

The good thing about our pre-sunrise alarm was knowing we’d have the entire day to pace ourselves during the walk. Leaving later would have meant rushing at the end of the day to avoid sundown, and I’m glad that wasn’t the case. The first hour and a half of our walk was along a mostly-flat, dusty, car road. We stopped several times so Juan Carlos could show us the various fruits and vegetables growing along the road —  bananas, avocados, papayas, passionfruit, and a special type of native fruit that turns into red paint, which he used to paint our faces with “tribal” designs.

Then, out of nowhere, Juan Carlos led us off the road and up a very narrow, steep path with intense, switch back turns. Lets face it: I had no idea what I was in for during the next several hours. I don’t think I’ve ever walked up such steep inclines in my life — the paths were angled at least 45 degrees, if not more, and my ankles were completely flexed upward at many points. Between the altitude and the incline, my breath was short and my heart was absolutely racing — when I stopped you could literally see my heart pounding my chest. I don’t know how else to explain it other than to say we were hiking along the edge of a mountain. One step to my left, there was a thousand foot drop, to the right, an enormous boulder engrained in the side of a mountain. Juan Carlos would point to a roof or a path far off in the distance and cheerily exclaim “that’s our next stop!” as if it was no big deal that our next destination was on an entirely different side of the mountain.

I have to admit, however, that it was incredibly satisfying to see your destination so far away and finally make it there, look back and say to yourself, “damn, look what I just did.”

Along the way up the mountain, there were several “houses” where we made stops — geared toward tourists, selling overpriced water and snacks, but one had traditional Peruvian clothing to dress up in and a display of the various produce that grows in the area, which Juan Carlos explained to us.

I mostly walked slowly at the back of the group, telling myself over and over again that it wasn’t a race, that I could take my time. My feet felt shaky and I was nervous as my feet found their places among the large rocks lining the very narrow path. One wrong slip and I could have literally tumbled off the mountain, knocked unconscious in the Peruvian jungle. I tried not to think about it as I made my way forward, trying to force myself to take breaks to look up at the incredible landscape. Aside from the fear, the walk really was breathtakingly beautiful — I’ve never seen tree-covered mountains with such unique formations.

We finally made it to our restaurant where we all wolfed down a delicious lunch. I’m not sure if it was the intense calorie burning or if the food really was that good, but the fresh guacamole we had was, in that moment, some of the best I’ve ever tasted.

After lunch, we walked for several hours along the Urubamba riverbed. We crossed several bridges back and forth over the river — some made of a handful of tree branches laid across the riverbed, others man-made but still very rickety. During rainy season, the riverbed often floods and, in some cases, wipes out the trail, so they often have to create a new path on either side every season. The terrain was rocky and sandy and not completely flat, but not nearly as uphill or treacherous as the morning had been. The sun had come out from behind a thin layer of clouds and it was definitely hot — much hotter than I had anticipated it being. Sweaty and exhausted, I was thankful I’d paid the 5 soles to send my bag ahead to the hostel instead of carrying it with me the entire day. At that moment, it truly felt like the best $2 I’ve ever spent! It was relatively unbelievable to realize that my body had taken me from steep mountains into jungle, then onto the banks of a river. I was in shock with how much I’d been able to do, despite my fear, and inability to breathe, at many points along the way.

At the very end of our walk, we had to cross the river on what Juan Carlos kept referring to as a cable car. This cable car was actually a 10 foot by 5 foot wooden and metal platform, attached to a long wire cable that stretched at least 300 feet across the river, whose calming gurgling noises had suddenly become intense, rushing sounds 25 feet below us. Mat (the Australian in the group) and I sat in the “cable car,” Juan Carlos gave us a giant push, and we began to sail across the cable. From the other end, a young boy — not much older than 14 or 15 — held a white rope, attached to the cable every 10 feet or so by a metal ring. Once our car slowed, he began to pull the rope, and consequently us, toward him. After we paid him a single sole (35 cents) for the crossing, he politely handed us a square, pink receipt, then used all his strength to push the car back to the other side, ready for two more passengers. Mind-blowing to say the least, and my pictures definitely don’t do the experience justice.

Another 15 minutes of walking and we reached what had become heaven in our minds: the hot springs. I cannot think of a more amazing way to end a day of such intense walking. Three gigantic pools of hot water, nestled along the riverbed, surrounded by jungle-covered peaks. It was the perfect reward after an exhausting day, and I’m sure the reason my muscles didn’t quit working for the rest of the trek. At first, we stood in the water in silence. I’m not sure what the others were thinking, but my loss of words was definitely a combination of exhaustion, shock, and total relief!

I’ll pause now to explain our group a bit — there were six of us total, two couples. Millie and Dan, a couple from London, were who I met at my pre-departure orientation, and I’d say I definitely became closest with them. Millie and I walked and chatted for a lot of the hike, and we got along really well. Stian and Gene were the other couple, from Norway, who were traveling all over the world for 8 months. Mat was the fifth member of our group, a 25-year old Australian guy with a very stereotypical Australian attitude. He did the whole trek in thin, canvas shoes, and mostly kept to himself, not talking much. Juan Carlos was an incredible guide — unlike a lot of the guides of the groups that we’d run into along the way, he wasn’t interested in partying or going crazy, he wanted to show us his beautiful country, teach us about the Incan culture and history, and really get to know us. I spent a lot of the time walking next to him and chatting — his english wasn’t perfect, but it was 100x better than my Spanish! I have to admit, by the end of our trip, I might have developed a baby crush…

Speaking of, despite spending most of my time with the two couples, I really felt at ease. There was a point at the hot springs when I was standing by myself, watching Stiam and Gene exchange loving, flirty looks, where I had a pang of jealousy but overall, the four days of the trek really entrenched in me a satisfaction in my own singleness — something I haven’t felt in a long time. I am so genuinely happy to be on my own at this point in my life, and despite all the heartbreak of the last year, I truly believe it all happened for a reason, and for me to finally be at this point emotionally.

I digress. After relaxing in the hot water for an hour and a half, our group of 6 opted for a 5 soles van ride into town instead of walking the last 2 miles — our muscles had had enough! We changed into our non-hiking clothes and had our standard dinner — a mealy soup I was not a fan of, chicken breast, rice, tomato and avocado and potato strips. We each got a complimentary Inca Tequila shot — just thinking about it brings back the burning sensation in my throat, even with the salt & lime. I was exhausted before dinner, but the tiny amount of alcohol ensured I was asleep the second my head hit the pillow.

Those are just a small smattering of the pictures I took on day 2 — to see all of them check out the Google Plus album I posted.

Trek to Machu Picchu: Day 1

Posted on by
Reply

My jungle trek might have been one of the most physically challenging things I’ve ever done in my life: 40 kilometers of downhill mountain biking, rafting through Class 3 rapids, walking 26 kilometers up and down steep mountains… it was quite a challenge. That being said, my trek was also one of the most incredible experiences of my life.

I remember climbing into bed on my first night and looking at my watch, only to realize it had only been 14 hours since I’d left Cusco, but it somehow felt like days. I started the day with a 6:15 wake up call to take my last hot shower for four days — thank goodness there was hot water at my hostel that morning (another small thing you learn to seriously appreciate when you travel: a decent shower). I had to literally sit on my (er, Kate’s) bag to close it, I was taking so little with me on the trek. Two pairs of leggings, four pairs of underwear, a bathing suit, two sports bras, a long sleeve shirt, a short sleeve shirt, two tank tops, my fleece, a pair of sweats, face wash, toothbrush/paste, body wash, a small towel, my camera & charger, chapstick, and a flashlight. Damn good packing!

I was told there were only 6 of us on the trek, so when our 16-seater van ended up completely full, I was less than thrilled. We were taking a 3 hour drive up into the Andes to start our mountain biking, and there were 9 Israelis who were going to be joining our group for the first half of the first day. Unfortunately, they were being typical Israelis, screaming and shouting and blasting techno music… at 7:30 AM. The other 6 of us looked at each other with frustrated and exhausted faces, silently thankful they were only with us for those few hours.

As an American Jew, it’s often hard to hear the reaction to the myriad of Israelis traveling in groups down in South America. Stian, one of the Norweigans in my trek group, simply said “I hate those people” on our way to dinner on our first night, and though I was immediately hurt and frustrated, I completely understood why his impression of Israel and Israelis was so negative. The 9 Israelis in our van made no attempt to speak English or communicate with us — they spoke over the guides when they tried to explain things during our drive, and they didn’t take us into consideration whatsoever. Of course there are exceptions to all the stereotypes, and I of all people know that not all Israelis are like this — for instance the great guy, Alon, I met on my tour of the Cusco ruins. I think when people travel in groups, it’s just a different situation.

Regardless of their obnoxiousness, mountain biking was quite the experience: serene, slightly terrifying, but overall, a few of the most incredible hours of my life. After my not-so-impressive biking experience at the Estancia in Uruguay, I was more than a little nervous to hop on a mountain bike and cycle 40 km (almost 25 miles) down a massive mountain. Luckily, our guide, Juan Carlos, was great at explaining all the functions of our bikes, triple checking everything worked, and then loading us up with the right gear: helmets, gloves, full top “armor” jackets with spine protection, plus full knee/calf protectors. I looked pretty ridiculous, but I felt safe!

Once I did a few circles around the dirt lot where we were suiting up, I immediately felt more comfortable on my bike than I had in Uruguay, but the first mile or two were still a bit of a struggle. I was the last in the group, ended up breaking a lot, and took the curves very, very slowly. As I got more comfortable on my bike, I eased up a lot. There was a steep drop-off on one side of the road, but even the parts of the road with hairpin turns were wide and well paved, and I was able to ease into the ride and a higher speed relatively quickly.

There is nothing more beautiful than descending from 4500 meters (just over 13,000 feet) above sea level, surrounded by beautiful snow-capped peaks, into a temperate jungle, watching the vegetation become more and more green, feeling the air get warmer and warmer, the sun on your face and wind in your hair. It sounds so disgustingly cliche, and nearly impossible considering I was navigating a two-wheeled vehicle down a steep mountain road, but it was such a freeing, relaxing experience. Ironically, mountain biking was the part of the trek I was most nervous for, but it was by far my favorite official activity of the four days.

After biking we had pesto chicken, rice and tomatoes for lunch at a local restaurant (unexpectedly delicious!), awkwardly changed into our swimsuits in the backyard of our restaurant, then got picked up for rafting. The sun was slowly sinking in the sky, and I realized it was already past 3:30. We ended up sitting in the van in town for nearly half an hour waiting for people from another tour group to join us, so by the the time we drove down to the river and got our lifejackets on, it was close to 4:15.

Firstly, I was expecting wetsuits, and there were none. Instead, I stayed in my leggings and tank top over my bikini, in fear of being freezing cold. Secondly, I somehow ended up at the very front of the 8-person raft. Our guide began to explain the proper procedures for catching the rope if you are thrown overboard, and how to duck into the raft when he says “Get down!” instead of the typical “forward” or “backward” paddling instructions. My heart immediately started racing.

I’d like to say the first, gigantic, bone-chilling wave of ice cold river water was the most shocking, but that would be a lie. Every time I got drenched, which was at least a dozen times in the hour and a half we were on the water, was just as cold and just as terrible. I was shivering, annoyed and mostly terrified. But halfway through, as we floated down a rapid-free section of the river with our paddles in our laps, I just couldn’t help but laugh. Here I was complaining, yet if this were any other normal day, I’d be sitting in my cubicle, complaining about how cold I was — from the AC — and how frustrating the CMA was being that afternoon. Instead, I was river rafting through class 3 rapids in the middle of the Peruvian jungle. How could I possibly be miserable?

After that, I kept a firm grip on the rope at the edge of the raft and dug my feet firmly into the foot-holds, but I smiled, even when I got a mouthful of water. I wish I had a picture of myself when I got out of the raft (or any pictures from rafting — I left my camera with Juan Carlos to take to our hostel) — I literally looked like I had showered in my clothing, there wasn’t a single inch of my body that wasn’t soaked. We towel dried and attempted to soak up the last of the sun, then helped the guides reattach our rafts to the top of the vans before they drove us back to our hostel.

By the time we were back at our hostel it was pitch black and not very warm out, so I was happy to have warm sweats and a dry fleece to change into. Dinner at a local restaurant was delicious, and it was wonderful to crawl into a bed (not a sleeping bag) and pass out!

Sad to report I took very few pictures on the first day — the few I did take are uploaded to Picasa here. 

I’m back! Catching up: June 12 in Cusco

Posted on by
Reply

Its only been 7 days since I last blogged, but I am still struggling to process all of the incredible things that have happened in just a week. My trek was absolutely amazing and I can’t wait to share all of the details, but I’m going to work backwards, starting with June 12, my last day in Cusco before my trek:

I was up relatively early to book a day tour through my hostel, a half day visit to five Inca ruins sites in the Cusco area. My tour didn’t leave until 1:30 PM, so I had the morning to myself to check out the city. I ate the very average free breakfast at my hostel — breakfast pretty much anywhere in South America consists of bread (in Argentina you get lucky and score Media Lunas, sweet croissants) with butter and jam, average coffee and cocoa tea. Over breakfast, I met a German girl who was stuck in a huge cast because she fell on one of the floating islands in Bolivia on Lake Titicaca and fractured her ankle. Luckily, she had friends living in Ecuador, so she was heading up north to meet them and take it easy, since she was stuck in her cast for 6 weeks, the duration of her time traveling. Her injury certainly put my tiny stresses of the week prior in perspective — having a vacation ruined by a broken bone is so much worse than anything I’ve had to face on my trip thus far, a good reality check for me!

Two of the girls staying in the same room at my hostel were American — one from Portland and one from San Francisco — so we immediately bonded. They had just come back from their Inka Trek, and wanted to spend the morning at the Artisinal Market. The market was also on my to do list, so I took them up on their offer to join them shopping for the morning.

The market was a pretty crazy sight — a giant warehouse filled with row upon row of tiny cubicles, crammed with hundreds of alpaca- and lama-knit sweaters, scarves, keychains, figurines and necklaces galore. Luckily we were there on a calm Tuesday morning, so we didn’t have too much company. Annie was a crazy bargainer, so she helped me snag an awesome lime green, knit alpaca zip-up for 30 soles ($11). It’s pretty out there, but now that I’ve worn it for the last few days, I’m relatively obsessed with it. One thing’s for sure; it will be very easy to spot me in NYC when I wear it all winter!

After grabbing a quick light lunch of bananas, granola and peach drinkable yogurt (strangely delicious) at a local supermarket, I made my way back to the hostel for my tour, which ended up starting much closer to 2 PM than 1:30. I panicked slightly when the guide began to make his long, Spanish introduction that I didn’t clarify earlier that morning that I needed a bilingual or English tour. Luckily, there were a handful of other people who needed the tour in English, so the 5 of us bonded while the rest of the group talked and became restless and rude when our tour guide switched to explain things in English for us.

One of the biggest downsides to traveling in a country where you don’t speak the language is the lack of accessible information at museums and ruins — very few signs are in English, especially at less popular tourist destinations, which can be relatively infuriating. Luckily, we had a good guide, and I was able to grasp most of what he was explaining to us.

Alon, a 30-year old Israeli TV journalist, and I started talking immediately and spent most of the tour chatting — we also made friends with three other girls, one from Sweden, one from Switzerland, and a student from Davidson College in the states.

The two words that immediately come to mind when I think of all the gorgeous Inca ruins I’ve seen over the past week are humbling and mind-boggling. Looking at these gigantic stones, some of them 15 feet high and weighing in at close to a ton, built up perfectly on these beautiful grass plateaus, completely isolated from everything, really blows your mind. How did a people, who lived in such rocky, steep terrain, and who didn’t use the wheel, manage to transport and beautifully carve such massive stones, close to 700 years ago?

It was also heartbreaking to hear about how much of the Inca civilization is a mystery to our generation because the Spanish destroyed so much of the Inca’s structures, precious metals, and culture when they came to conquer South America.

Though it’s the most bizarre of all the ruins sites, I found the Qorikanca Temple in downtown Cusco the most aesthetically fascinating. The Spanish built their church directly over the Inca temple that they partially destroyed, so the site is a strange mixture of Spanish architecture and beautiful Inca-carved stones. We also made our way up into the hills of Cusco to see Saqsaywaman, a gigantic Inca situated on a beautiful grassy hill that overlooks the entire city of Cusco. We had a clear view of the Plaza de Armas, just a few blocks from my hostel, and our guide explained that Cusco was originally meant to be shaped like a Puma, one of the three sacred animals to the Incas, and that Saqsaywaman forms the head of the Puma.

Because our tour started so much later than scheduled, we ended up seeing the last two sites after sundown, so we didn’t get the best views. I was relatively annoyed, but have to admit it was really neat to see all of Cusco lit up below us once it started to get dark.

Us English-speakers all opted for a nice dinner at Inka Grill on the Plaza after the tour — a bit pricey, but my goat cheese and spinach stuffed chicken breast was delicious, and so was the chocolate tart we all split afterwards.

When I got back to my hostel I was exhausted from being in the sun and high altitude all day, but completely anxious and wired for my trek the next day. I accidentally left disc 1 of Friday Night Lights in my laptop when I moved, so after I packed and separated my stuff, I watched an episode and then promptly passed out!

Country number four: Peru!

Posted on by
Reply

After yet another airport mishap (I guess it’s bound to happen when you take 4 flights in 3 days, right?) I am alive, in one piece, and settled down in Cusco, Peru — country number 4!

I got in my cab at 6 AM this morning, this time to the right airport (ha), and when I checked in at the Santiago airport, I found out that LAN had automatically changed my connecting flight to Cuzco (you have to fly through Lima, the only international airport in Peru) up an hour, so I only had a 50 minute layover. I asked the LAN attendant checking me in if this was enough time and she said yes, no problem, so I stayed on the earlier flight. Mistake.

I get to Lima and discover that not only do I have to go through customs at the Lima airport, but I also have to claim my baggage and re-check in for my second flight. Our flight from Santiago left 15 minutes late, and there were multiple international flights landing in Lima when ours did, so I wasn’t even close to making my connection. Three LAN attendants and a lot of sweat later (I was layered up for cold weather and the airport was SO hot!) I got a seat on the flight I had originally scheduled. Ridiculous, but it ended up working out fine, thanks to a very nice LAN attendant named Angel (ironic, I know). Security in Lima was super confusing — I got in a line and had all of my stuff in bins on the conveyor belt before someone told me that the line was men only. When I got to the other line and it was both men and women, and the person who ended up having to scan me after I went through the metal detectors was also a male? Very confusing. All of this travel has also helped me realize that South Americans, regardless of the country, have no sense of your personal bubble. When you’re in line, they’re 3 inches from you at all times, half walking in front of you, half shoving you forward. It was irritating at first, but now its (mostly) entertaining.

In happier news, Cuzco is beautiful. When we landed, I was literally breathless watching the snow covered mountains and the gorgeous green hills surrounding the city — I had beautiful weather today, and the sun lit everything so perfectly. I made a friend, Harold, from Austria, on my flight from Lima, and we ended up on the same Cuzco flight despite my whole mess, and shared a cab to our respective hostels. Always good to have a buddy who speaks English!

A view of the surrounding hills from the Plaza de Armas, 3 blocks from my hostel!

My hostel is huge, but really great — much cleaner than the place we stayed in Montevideo, and there are dozens of people staying here in several large rooms. I’m in an 8 bed female room with a bathroom ensuite, but so far 5 of the 8 beds are empty. After I checked in, I wandered through a few of the plazas that are right near my hostel, had a delicious quinoa salad for late lunch, then went for my pre-departure trek briefing. I met my guide, Juan, and another couple from London (yay English speakers!) who will be trekking with me. Our guide, who has been leading treks to Machu Picchu for 4 years, said there were 3 other people on the trip who were being briefed tomorrow, so I’ll meet them Wednesday when we leave.

My itinerary is pretty intense, and though I’m still a bit nervous, now I’m mostly excited. I’m glad I’m challenging myself and not just taking the train to Machu Picchu — I know doing the trek will be so much more rewarding in the end, but I’m also more than thrilled that I’m not going to be sleeping on the ground in a tent for four nights.

The Catedral in the Plaza de Armas

The first day of the trek we take a 3 hour bus ride from Cuzco, then go from an altitude of 4100 meters all the way down to 1500 meters… on mountain bikes. I think this is the part I’m most nervous for — riding a bike on a wide, paved road in Uruguay was a big enough challenge for me! Our guide assured me that I could stop as often as I wanted and that 80% of the road is asphalt, so that made me feel a bit better, but it will definitely be nerve-wracking. After the biking we take a short bus ride, then go river rafting. I’ve been warned we’ll get wet and it will be Class II and III rapids, but they’re providing wet suits, and said we’re supposed to have great weather, so hopefully I won’t freeze to death. After the rafting we arrive at our first hostel in Santa Maria, where I will most likely pass out from total exhaustion.

Day two is 7-8 hours of hiking, part of which is along the Inca Trail. I was told originally that we have to carry all of our stuff, but our guide told us we can pay 5 Peruvian sols (less than $2) to have our stuff carried instead, and even though I’m packing light, I’ll probably take advantage of the cheap porters! After a long day of hiking we’ll get to relax in the hot springs, and then get to our second hostel in Santa Teresa.

Day 3 is what I’m most excited for — zip-lining! I can’t wait for this part of the trek — it will definitely be my motivation during 8, very long hours of hiking on day 2. We walk for a few hours (9km) after the zipline, then get to our third and final hostel where, dun dun dun, we get a hot shower! (The two other hostels are in towns where no hot water runs, period.) We’ll get to bed early and then be up at 4:30 AM the next day to get out to Machu Picchu, where our guide will show us around for the morning. Then we have the afternoon to ourselves at the ruins before we get on the train back to Cuzco. I’m booked in the same hostel for another two nights after my trek, so I can relax, do some souvenir shopping, and let my sore muscles relax before I take a 10 hour bus ride down to Puno at Lake Titicaca. The plan for tomorrow is to take a guided half day trip to four or five of the ruins sites outside Cuzco — that way I don’t wander aimlessly and misunderstand everything I’m seeing.

I can’t believe this part of the trip is finally happening — it’s so surreal, and probably won’t feel real until my muscles are aching from all the rafting, biking and hiking. Cross your fingers for me!