Hey there blog, you must be feeling pretty neglected. I'll come clean and say that I've been cheating on you with my travel journal, it's just too damn easy. Here is what I have after my trip to Machu Picchu, its kind of long so prepare yourself.
Journal entry from Dec. 4, 2010:
I just returned from a 6 day stint, exploring the mountainous Peruvian landscape on my way to Machu Picchu. It was an exhasting trip, but it had to be done. First off, let me say that I packed waaay too much, my Kooch brothers would not be proud. So I lugged my sack to Cusco where I sat next to Meg Robinson on the plane; turns out she is a fellow Lake Forester and is the cousin of my Aunt Peggy, weird huh? I chatted with her and her husband (Steve?) and they gave me a free lift into town. After getting settled, I hit the streets where I haggled with local artisans, took way too many pictures of churches and chose a trip guide from a plethora of eager tour companys. The night was fairly uneventful, I sipped on some cold beers and watched a American football game, which made me feel right at home.
The next morning I awoke at 7am and hopped in a van that would hopefully take me to Ollantaytambo. I quickly introduced myself to the other travelers and found myself surrounded by some Germans, Canadians, Austrailians and Israelis. The driver sped up the climbing hills, making plenty of unnessasary passes, as we gauked out the window at the breath taking scenary. At one point they told everyone inside to jump out of the van and we mounted bicycles to navigate down the slippery roads. It seemed like we were in some cheezy date movie because as soon as we started pedalling, the clouds descended upon us and a mix of heavy rain and sleet set in that chilled everyone down to the bone. Knowing that I paid for the experience, I painfully withstood the cold barrage of water, attempting to smile, weaving in between the yellow lines to distract myself from mother nature's poorly timed downpour. Many of the others conceded and were picked up by the van following close behind, but after an hour or so the guide called it quits and we all piled back into the van and peeled the wet sock from our feet. Afterwards we ate a pretty crumby lunch composed of cheese sandwiches and breath mints, and allow me to say that Peruvian cheese is nothing to write home about. Of coarse, as we continued down the road the rain let up and we caught a glimpse of the natural beauty that this land holds, which got me pretty excited about our final destination. We arrived to a small hostel in the middle of nowhere, hidden beneath the daunting green mountians that surrounded us, and I befriended the group of Israelis as we watched Barcelona destroy Real Madrid in an exciting gradge match on the only TV in town.
A brief explanation of the Israelis:
Raz: a tall, confident, Israeli dude with great beard growing genes
Roy: typical Jewish mannerism (according to any Woody Allen movie), thick ginger beard, quick wits and fast hands when it comes to cards
Amet: Not afraid to say that he is one handsome Israeli with a heart of gold
Israeli Couple: Couldn't remember their names to save my life, didn't say much in English, but were always really encouraging when it came to practicing Hebrew (pretty much learned that; Ma = what and Yalla = come on, hurry up)
Best Memory: Watching Roy (the ginger) freak out at the sight of a large moth near his bed. I was like: Dude, you spent three years in the army, get it together...he was soooo sterotypically Jewish.
So the Israelis taught me their favorite card game, Yaniv, and I taught them how to play Asshole (President according to our Peruvian guide, Frank). Between all of us we played a lot of cards. The next day we set off on foot to walk along the original Inca trail, it was a day full of hiking, climbing, exploring, eating fruits from trees, juggling mangos, fondling monkeys, speaking Hebrew, applying traditional facepaint, snapping photos of deep valleys and rolling hills, laying in hammocks, crossing rivers and, finally, smoking a fatty in a natural hot spring. You know just another day at the office.
Trying to make as many friends as possible, I made an attempt to talk to the German dudes, Canadian girls, the Irish chick, but it was the Austrailian sheylas that grabbed my attention. Feeling as though I made a poor first impression, I rose early the next day to find that all of the Aussie lassies were doing a canopy tour, which I promptly joined. So there I was, flying on ziplines at around 50 mph, surrounded by gorgeous Peruvian mountain tops and 7 beautiful Aussie chicks, what a way to spend a morning. By the end of it, the conopy guides offered me a job (because of my Spanish skills and super zipline capabilities) and I got to know Jenna, Ali, Alex, Rachel, Meera and the two other less attractive girls, sorry ladies.
Afterwards, we ate lunch and started marching along the train tracks to Aguas Calientes. Along the way, we took a pause at a small rain shelter. There, our guide gave us a legitimate lecture about the Peruvian culture, traditional practices and a demonstration of the power Coca leaves. During the break I spoke to a Peruvian Rasta, named Cusco, about how to eat the Coca leaves, when all of a sudden Bob Marley (Tío Bob) started playing in the distance. Not being able to miss a perfect opportunity, Cusco and I sparked that shit up and he told me more about the lay of the land! After a couple laughs and personal thoughts we said our goodbyes and trudged down the tracks. During the trip, I chatted with Jenna and Ali about a wide variety of topics, I gotta say I was impressed with their intellect, I guess Austrailia isn't just made up of a bunch of criminals! Ha, man, I need to read more books. Finally, we arrived to Aguas Calientes, I met the Israelis once again, we prepared to wake before the break of dawn and, of coarse, played a good amount of Yaniv. By this point I was pretty low on cash and supplies, so I created the poor man's cookie sandwich by stuffing chocolate graham crackers into day old bread rolls, yum.
Anyways, the alarm screeched at 4am and I slowly crawled from my warm, cozy bed into my damp, stinky hiking gear. We briskly walked in silence through the darkness until we reached the foot of the mountain. Showtime. Raz and I hauled ass and reached the top within 40 minutes, racing the tourist buses full of lazy travelers. The numorous stairways leading up to the park entrance acts as an unofficial competition between the various hikers in Aguas Calientes, everyday the champion waits in the front of the line, smugly greeting the visitors that ate his/her dust. Additionally, the first 300 people that enter each morning are given a stamp that gives them the opportunity to hike Waynapicchu, the slightly taller mountain in the backdrop of all the Machu Picchu photos and post cards.
So, we waited in line anxiously until finally we were admitted into the park. The Incan gods favored us that day because the sky was a gloriously soft blue hue and the clouds seemed to kiss the tops of the furry, green mountains. The sun rise atop Machu Picchu beamed directly through me, into my core, and it reminded me that there is a vast amount of beauty in this world, you just need to get outside and find it for yourself. Ironically, after a couple pictures on top of the ruins, my camera died. However this turned out to be a blessing in disguise because I realized to truly appreciate the vision in front of you, you must memorize every last detail and digest the sight in silence. Throughout the day I watched too many tourist snapping enough photos to make their fingers bleed, they could never capture the essence of the vision posing with peace signs and false smiles. It's almost as if they spent their entire stay in this amazing place behind their camera lense. Well, enough preaching for me.
So I spent nearly 10 hours exploring the ruins, climbing Waynapicchu, sitting in solitude, collecting my thoughts, writing songs and ideas and, of coarse, playing with llamas. I passed the majority of the day by myself, occasionally tagging along with different tours and bumping into past acquantances. The O2 atop Machi Picchu was some of the freshes air I have come across and the effect of the rising and falling clouds was truly magical. At one point I sat in a crisp, green valley of grass surrounded by llamas, then the clouds descended and I was suddenly resting in a sea of mist and strange noises (murrr), definately one of the most surreal moments I have experienced. This may be a bit over dramatic, but I left a piece of myself on top of that mountain...literally I wipeed some of my boogers under some rocks, haha. All in all, it was a great experience that provoked some self-reflection, a healthy dose of hiking and meeting new people.
One thing that sticks out in my memory is that I saw a traditional looking Peruvian, hiking with no shoes and worn feet. He stood on top of one of the highest rocks of Waynapicchu and he played a deilghtful little melody on his wooden flute. Suddenly an security guard interupted him with an ugly shout and told him loud noises were restricted in the park. The Peruvian calmly asked 'And who restricts the sounds', the guard responded 'el gobierno de Peru', his retort 'Well I only answer to the gods above me'. He quickly stepped off the rock and shuffled down the dangerous steps, pausing every now and then to play his intrument freely. This sight gave me hope that traditional lifestyles have a chance in this cold, concrete world if the people are persistent and sincere.
I didn't feel the effect of the hiking until I began hiking down the mountain, holy moly was I stiff. Getting back to Aguas Calientes I boarded a train back towards Cusco. Not giving up on my mission to make new friends, I taught two Frenchies (Richard and Estelle) how to play Asshole on the train and finished the trip striking out with the Irish lass at Loki hostel, turns out she was 30. Solid trip, if I may say so myself.
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