Waking this morning is hard- mostly because we had to pack small bags to take with us to Machu Picchu- and leave the rest behind. Which is always so much harder than it sounds. I can’t emotionally bare to be away from my art supplies…and they take up more room than my beauty supplies by a long shot. We will be in Machu Picchu town for 1 night. And they say it is a mixture of weather and temps…. waffling from HOT on the top of the mountain, to cold at night in the town where we will stay- shadowed by the monstrous cliffs that surround it and its little nook of a spot. So that loosely translates to take ALMOST everything you brought -but not quite. Fitting it all in 2 back packs is going to be tricky. So I spent a long time last night getting that together. I’m sure the wine didn’t help me make good decisions. This should be interesting.
We have a quick breakfast (I dream about the pork they make for breakfast here, tender and juicy cut from a freshly roasted pig, its hot and served with a spicy picante salsa. Mind blowing.) Then we head to the lobby where they take our big and medium luggage rollies and tag them for transport to Cusco. We will see them again in 3 dayswhen we arrive at our last stop for two nights. And we meet our driver and Jackie again. She is going to take us to the train and explain the process to us and then we are Muppets in the wild.
The train station is so busy- but I honestly feel like TinTin-anyone else remember TinTin?
Nicole was obsessed with The Adventures of TinTin when she was a pre-teen. It was a Cartoon about a boy named TinTin who got into lots of pickles all around the world with his little dog snowy. The books were huge by a little kids standards…rectangular- probably 18 x 12. I remember holding them and pretending to read them-looking at all the pictures and imagining all the places he visited. The moon, Africa, the UK, Scotland, China, the Antarctic and PERU- along many others. But mostly I remember just watching Nicole read them- devour them. Her eyes big and her travel dreams getting bigger and bigger. She was determined to be TinTin some day…… I think that makes me Snowy- his sidekick dog (who I might add was usually the real brains behind the operation….. I’m good with that.)
What I distinctly remember about TinTin was the train travel-It was written in the early 1930’s, so easy to understand why it was usually by train. And every time I’m around a train station in a country like this I feel very much like TinTin. There are so many people. Hikers everywhere. Dogs waiting to board with them, and dogs just hanging out in the hopes of a treat or two. It again is reminding me of Nepal- the adventure is palpable- I can feel the determination and the excitement of everyone around me. We are either here to travel to one of the 7 wonders of the world, or to hike to it. Or to visit family that live near it. Or to hike back from it. It all centers around the mountain- as did the whole point of this trip. Seeing Machu Picchu has been on the top of the list for a long time…even booked last year- as I said-only to have to be changed at the last minute due to the civil unrest here. I’m grateful we have made it…but sometimes when you put this much effort into getting somewhere- it disappoints. It gives “Never meet your hero’s”. I hope that isn’t the case here. And either way- this is the type of adventure that fills my wanderers cup. It feels very special. It feels like we should take in every minute. That’s what these spots do to me- I think back to seeing Everest, seeing the Taj. Seeing Gibraltar. Seeing Giverny. That first turn driving to Amalfi. Etna. They all come with an excitement that makes you quiet. Makes you take the mental picture in HD-a little more detailed. Not talking a lot- so that you don’t muddy up the experience with your own interjections. Letting IT show YOU who it is – slowly, instead of introducing yourself to it in a rush.
We sit and wait for our train to arrive. Its funny- Anytime we are left at a train station we are terrified by the dismissive information we are given. This happened in India too. Its all, “go over there and get on a thing that looks like a train. You’ll be fine. Just take train #2. But not the wrong #2. Only the one that arrives at 10:04 and leaves exactly 15 seconds later even if you’re only half in….oh and if you take the wrong one you will end up in the bad lands and get eaten. So be very very careful. But no worries. Byeeee”. And then we panic like small children the first day of kindergarten. Get on the right train. And its easy. And if asked to tell any newbies how to do it we would repeat the exact same directions they gave us. EVERY. TIME.
As we are sitting Nicole says that Gary is still really not adjusting well to the altitude. Neither is Chris- although he’s better then he was when we arrived in Cusco. So I suggest we give them some Emergen-C…..you know? the powder you mix with water and its supposed to give you lots of vitamins and whatnot. So we get that out and Nicole hands it to her dehydrated Muppet. As he puts it to his mouth he says “what is it?” and starts to drink. Nicole says “its Electrolytes. They give it to kids for diarrhea.”
And Gary proceeds to projectile spit it out like its acid- all over himself and the ground in front of him, his new dog friend, and anyone within 6 feet.
WHY WOULD YOU WANT TO GIVE ME DIARRHEA WOMAN??
Blink blink blink.
“good. Question” she says, with about 10 seconds between each word…… I SAID ITS WHAT THEY GIVE TO KIDS WITH DIARRHEA…YOU KNOW…TO GET THEIR VITAMENS AND ENERGY UP… Oh. I thought you said its to give kids Diarrhea. Okay. Good good.
And drinks the rest. While we just all say “HEARING AIDS!!!” at his face and watch as people share hand sanitizer all around us, and form a little support group.
After some panicking about if it was the right train or not (newbies. Sigh) we board and are seated at a table with four seats – two and two facing each other. This train is a Peruways train and we are in Frist Class- which just means we get to order wine and have table runners on the tables. But it has windows that go from the walls onto the ceiling – so we can see every mountain from base to top. We settle in, and open our sippy cups- expertly filled with wine from the supplies stop in Cusco a couple of days ago. The train departs and it seems we will be following the raging river all the way from our departure until we get to Machu Picchu. As it starts – I feel like the view couldn’t get any better then it is right now….but the further we get into the valley, the more the mountains grow. We make quick work of that sippy cup, and then order a bottle from the train. It is Gary and Nicoles 23rd anniversary today 😊 and what a day to celebrate. We are given little treat boxes filled with quinoa cookies (just don’t if you ever get the chance) and cocoa candies. The ride is absolutely stunning- the snow capped mountains are in the distance for a while, but quickly we descend into their shadows and get to see just how tall they are from the vantage point of their bases. We all crane our necks to see the tops.
Along the way we see the hikers that are traveling to Machu Picchu via the four day Inka Trail. They are a rag tag bunch- pots and pans hanging off their packs, piled high with blankets and sleeping bags. I’m sure it fulfills some dream of theirs to be hiking this trail- you don’t commit to something like that without it being a need, not a want. So I can imagine how epic this is for them also- even if by now-they look like its old hat.
After about an hour and a half of the most beautiful journey in and out of mountains via tunnels and bridges- we start to see a town come into view and realize we have made it. We gather our things and de-train- meeting a guide at the entrance to the station. Our guide gives our overnight bags to another gentleman named Christian (how bad can he be??) to our hotel for holding, and we take our lighter day packs with us and follow our day guide. His name is also Gary- but that should be fine as Gary never hears us when we say his name anyway. We follow Gary through a maze of shops (oh we WILL be back here) finally ending up in the center of this worldly town- briming with hundreds of people in transit to THE mountain. We cross the main (and only) road in town and we are que-ed in a line up for a buss to take us to the top of the Cloud Forrest where Machu Picchu is. I can completely understand why this is called the cloud forest, as we crane our necks to see the high mountains all around us we can see we are going to go above the cloud line- the tops all hidden with wispy clouds. Ever play Super Mario Brothers? remember the cloud world? I feel like I’m about to see it in person. I’m not sure how else to describe looking up there. Its an overcast day- although not raining. But we get to go to Machu Picchu twice! Today and tomorrow. They do this when tour planning because there is never rain here two days in a row. EVER. So if you book two days you are pretty guaranteed to have a sunny day- and it looks like tomorrow will be our sunny day. And actually that’s perfect- we can do our tour today and get the historical details out of the way- and then do it on our own tomorrow. I’m not sure how or why- but we tend to get smiled on during our trips. Like IF there is a thing to see but you only get one chance and it usually rains except twice a year? We will be there for the sun. If the plane to Everest can only fly 25% of the scheduled flights? Ours will. And perhaps we don’t- haha. We’ve had our share of terrible things. More then our share honestly. But that’s never the focus. Maybe after you live through enough near deaths you just don’t want to walk in that headspace ever again. I don’t know. But for whatever reason, Nicole and I are allergic to negativity. We tend to remember things with our rose colored glasses sitting firmly on our faces. I believe this is the best way to travel through life let alone countries along the way. So I have no doubt in my mind whatsoever that this will end with us having an epic once in a lifetime visit. I AM the Ted Lasso of travel. I believe. #IFKYK.
We get boarded onto our bus after it travels up the one road in town and does a 16 point u turn in the street. I am at the window- and I know Chris always gives me the window seat out of love and kindness…..but I think this time I have chosen poorly. Because although the first 5-8 minutes of the drive are normal and fine, the last 15 are the scariest 15 of recent memory. We start to climb the switchbacks that will get us up this beast of a mountain, and I quickly clock that there are no barriers on the sides of the roads. Meaning- we are climbing rapidly, with drops of 100-2500 feet depending on where in the climb you are. I can’t tell you how nervous I am. Not sure if this is more dangerous than other things we’ve done, or if I’m just getting old, but my legs are Jello as we drive.
And then we begin meeting other buses on their way down the mountain to pick more people up.
And moving to the side to let them by.
And I can picture in FAR more detail then my wedding night- us rolling down the side of the freaking cloud death forest in a bus.
I realize we have to do this back down…and back up and down again tomorrow. The butterflies in my stomach are becoming condors. Let me assure you that the train wine is helping- but in no way taking away- the absolute and all encompassing terror. By the time we get to the top I am sweating and have lost all my reserved nerve. (I like to keep a little courage stored away for when I need it- only dipping into it when I am particularly spooked. Other people refer to this as “Xanax”.)
As we get to the top- we stand in line at the entrance with our passports and tickets. You have to verify that the name on your ticket is the same as your ID. Our guide explains that Machu Picchu used to be far more “willy nilly” than it is now- but ever since the civil unrest last year- more and more security measures have been put into place. Which is a double edged sword- mixing a heightened sense of safety with a less intimate experience. We had been debating walking to the Sungate- a spot that the sun hits perfectly every afternoon – Inka engineered. But we find out that it is closed now- only accessible to those who are walking the Inka Trail. And that is probably for the best- it was usually quite crowded- and I’m sure the Inka Trail walkers deserve it all to themselves after that 4 day walk. Not to mention I was going to have to fake a heart attack to get out of Nicole making me do it. That was going to be awkward and I can’t imagine going down that road in a speeding Ambulance would end well….
As we go through the gate we are in a long line of people walking up to see the ancient Inka city. The walk is steep, and I’m glad we are tackling this now. 5 years from now may have been impossible if you consider the altitude and the tricky walk. As we go we see an elderly gentleman stumble and skin his shin- tended to by his guide and family. Noted: be careful. After about 100 steep stairs and a few twists and turns, we emerge. The rock wall, so carefully erected by the Inkas, opens…and we walk through.
And the view is quite impossible to explain.
Hiram Bingham was not a trained archaeologist. But while he served at Yale as a lecturer and professor in South American history, he journeyed to South America. And on July 24, 1911, Melchor Arteaga- a local man- led Bingham far up into the cloud forest, to Machu Picchu, which had been largely forgotten by everybody except the small number of people living in the immediate valley where we are staying.
We’re seeing much more then he saw that day- now that so much more is exposed. But what he did see, and what were seeing now, is something better imagined with your eyes closed. But this isn’t an audio book…so pretend.
The jagged mountain edged circle- surround a field… a platform of sorts…. Mostly flat at its center- lime green- almost neon. Surrounded by LUSH green rolling hills, more of a Kelly green, glowing…….no matter how hard you try, from here you are unable to see the bottom of the plunging valley, but if you listen you can hear the water rushing at the base……its like a tall lush volcano that’s been filled with soil and is thriving. I catch my breath a little. And IMMEDITELY tear up. Get that weird feeling in my throat that makes me breathe different. The one I’m getting now as I write.
Bingham returned to Peru in 1912, 1914, and 1915 with the support of Yale and the National Geographic Society. He excavated what we see now- and believed that Machu Picchu was mostly religious in nature. Modern archaeological research though now says that the site was not a religious center but a royal estate to which Inca leaders and their entourage repaired during the Andean summer. They could boast fresh fish directly from the ocean via an incredible trail system that came from the coast and reached all the way to the amazon. Way up on this meow-tain. And this was the last place used by the Inkas as they tried to survive and reorganize against the Spanish. The Spanish arrived in 1530- and the Incas left. And here it laid, abandoned for almost 400 years. I can imagine the pride they would feel if they knew the Spanish never did find their gem in the forest. That of all the things that were ripped from them, this wasn’t one. The last Inka to lay eyes on this land, before the young professor from Yale came and released it, likely wished for that very thing.
We walk on and our guide makes sure we are being given time to take pictures. We walk all around the grounds.. The traffic flow on the top is only one way, guided by barriers and ropes. So we make good mental notes about when we should stop tomorrow so we don’t’ go too far. We see our spot at the top of the incline where you can sit, a nice open field…looks like we’ll be drinking there tomorrow. And I don’t want to dare jinx it by being too excited…..but….I did bring my paints….but no. Don’t even wish it. Shhhhh…
There are houses and rooms outlined in stone without their roofs- far too delicate to have survived 400 years. But the stone work? It is as usual with the Inka’s- engineered at the same level of expertise as the Egyptians impossible pyramids- so -perfectly in tact. Will survive many many more years. Stone cut precisely, without saws or blades…or any modern tools of any kind. And angled to withstand earthquakes. All aligned perfectly to enjoy the morning sun, but not bake in the afternoon heat.
We see the “Huayna Picchu Hike” entrance. For an extra fee you can try to die on this hike. Comprised of irregularly shaped and often slippery stones, one large portion of the hike is known as “the Stairs of Death”. I can see Nicole is getting that look in her eyes…so I loudly say, “I could pee? Could you pee?”. Which I know means, even if she JUST peed, or hasn’t had a sip of anything in 4 days….she will INSTANTLY need to pee IMMEDIATELY. This works. So onward we go to the end of the tour- and outside the barriers to the bathroom.
After a wait for the restroom, and a wait for the bus (not a long one) we head back down to the town for lunch while we wait for our rooms to be ready. With how far we have traveled today it is hard to believe its only lunch time.
We bump into Christian (man of mystery that now has on a different shirt then he did before…) who recognizes us and tells us our luggage is in our rooms, but first we have lunch reserved for us in a pub a few doors down. Its decent, although we are very spoiled now., so its not up to the standard we’ve started to expect. But it does the trick and we eat up and head to our hotel. We have reserved the river facing suites- and we are not disappointed! They are wooden top to bottom, decorated in that style that I plan on hijacking in every way imaginable with the textiles and colors. There is a sitting area filled with windows that hang over the raging river and the loud rapids are a promise of a good nights sleep- we’ve been missing our white noise.
We oooh and aahhhh about the rooms for a few minutes, unload, change clothes (its starting to get HOT and humid) and get our attack plan together. Nicole and I plan to have this market mentally mapped in about 15 mins, and buy the crap outa Peru. I know I know, the train says you can only have a back pack and a purse. But those are details my excitement can’t quite let in at the moment.
So we off to the market, our pack mules in tow. And when I say that we shopped? Mrs. Phyllis Drover herself would be impressed. We zigged and zagged, we dickered and haggled, we pushed grown women with baby carriages out of the way, I believe I gave an elderly woman the finger in the heat of it all. It’s a blur really. My phone was getting hot from all the VISA notifications. And eventually, it happened.
We got separated.
2 Muppets went this way, and the other 2 went that way. And before we knew it, we were the Peruvian market equivalent of trying to find 2 needles in a haystack. Except one of the needles is completely deaf, one is in a buying frenzy, and one has the directional skills of a weeable-wabble. I don’t even think the fact that the other one is so white he can be seen from space will be able to help us here.
Chris and I walk around doing the universal whistle for a good ½ hour. Finally Chris sits me on a wall and leaves to be a beacon to guide them home. And he leaves me without taking my wallet. So by the time he finds them, I am at least 1 more blanket and another sweatshirt in. But we are reunited and all is fine- Nicole and I have to tell each other of all the things she found when she was abandoned- as in “if you’d stuck with me you’d have gotten this. But you were off looking at stupid stuff and abandoning me”. It’s a well rehearsed dance we do, even at Winners on random Saturdays.
We meander back to the hotel, across the railway tracks – that go directly through the town. As dangerous as it likely is, its VERY cool. You can sit in your room or restaurant overlooking the river, and hear the DING DING DING of the train coming and then the roar as it passes by. So we decide to do just that before dinner, and after bringing our treasures up to our rooms, we meet in Gary and Nicole’s room to share the wine we got in the market earlier.
Then we head down for dinner in our hotel. They have one of the most well rated restaurants in the area here, so why go elsewhere? Everything is beautiful wood and textiles, surrounded by their wine collection and the water. We let our waiter know that it is Gary and Nicole’s anniversary, so he suggests a wine and we happily purchase it. One of their best, its only about $25, and when he opens it I can smell the perfect malbec smell, the one that makes your mouth water and our jaw hurt. Then we order: an appie, a main and a dessert, just like all the other restaurants. And we are treated to some of the best food on the trip. The ceviche that we have at this restaurant is, 100% hands down, the best I’ve ever had. And I’ve had about 20 by now……so I’m a real pro……it comes with the roasted corn nibs, trout, sweet potato and red onion, and because we ordered it spicy- about 5 of the hottest hot pepper pieces I’ve ever had-then you have a pot of the tigers milk that goes over a ceviche to cook it….and you pour it over yourself. I’m in heaven. And end up eating most of Nicole’s too. All of the food is magazine worthy and tastes like a Michelin star. Absolutely incredible.
Dessert is mostly picked at as we are all so full and tired. So after making it look like we tried all the desserts we head to our rooms and tuck in for tomorrow. The weather is saying sunny and warm, no chance of rain- the smile on is starting. I pack away all my purchases and settle in early- Chris falling asleep the minute we got back around 8pm.
A great nights sleep and an early meet up in the lobby the next morning. We have the hotel watch our bags for us- we are checking out today- but not until 2pm- our train leaves at 4pm to go back to where we started in the Sacred Valley and then continue on to Cusco. But for today, we have Machu Picchu all to ourselves (and likely 34975 other people) for the morning, then we’ll come back for lunch and on to our train.
So we get in line for the bus after a nice quick breakfast and start the journey back to the top on these death machines. I’m even more nervous today…and at one point I start to type “Machu Picchu bus accident” into google…and then decide to put a pin in that. Its not going to keep me from going- so no need to even look. The bus is the same as yesterday, although this guy seems a little slower which is nice…unless that’s because he’s new…or not very confident………I just shut my brain off and try to look straight ahead.
We arrive at the top in one piece and get off the bus – all giving each other the look that for some insane reason has become familiar – the “well. We survived. Lets go” look.
This time we decide to go further up the mountain, walking up a set of stairs our guide avoided yesterday, and when we come out of the forest cover we see we are much higher then yesterday. We can’t quite see the flat area, just the cliff that gives way to it. But we can see the valley below from this vantage along with the steep sides of the mountain and the road that leads up, the river at its base. And then we see the LAMAS!! A few more steps up the hill and just hanging out! The sweetest Lamas! Babies with their mamas, large and small, in groups or by themselves, looking like furry camels. We squeal! And run at them, Nicole determined to get the perfect picture. Me determined to get one in my bag. Gary determined to punch one in the face if he gets any closer to Nicole with those teeth, and Chris determined to find new vacation partners next year.
We terrorize the lamas for a long time. An embarrassingly long time. And then move on. Its so lovely out today, and we brought wine in our sippy cups, 2 blankets, and some sea salt chocolate from Switzerland via Superstore – or as we call it, panty snickers. It’s a thing. Maybe you should read the other blogs. Or don’t.
So we find the perfect spot and have a seat. It’s already been a perfect day. And its our anniversary today- Mine and Chris’s. Our 24th. And it’s as exceptional as all the others have been. We put out our blanket- and sit. Chris pours me water. And says- I think you should paint- it’s the perfect spot. I don’t waste any time. I set everything out, get my paints misted, paper towel folded perfectly. Water in my cup. I quickly draw the scene in front of me. I take a sip of my sun warmed sneaky wine. Mix the perfect green- Viridian and a dash of Dark Umber. And put brush to paper.
And that’s about as far as I get before I do what I do and start to cry. It starts pretty easy to hide but eventually I’m sniffing and whipping my eyes. We have front row seats. We are at the edge of a small drop off, with the entire scene in front of us. There are other people around, but in tours listening to their tour guides.
I paint for about 15 minutes before Nicole and I spot a Lama on the nest level up, on top of another little cliff….and then we both watch as he jumps down the cliff an onto our field. About 30 feet from us. He is playfully jumping and kicking his feet, trying to get into the middle of a small group of people sitting gathered on the grass around their guide. Then he makes his way towards us. And Nicole and I are SQUEALing in delight!
To review….We’re on Machu Picchu. There is wine. I’m painting. I’m with my sister. My Gary is here. And its my wedding anniversary with the most precious man who ever existed who is holding my hand and who may or may not be dying of altitude sickness. AND NOW THERE IS A FREAKING LAMA EATING MY SCARF. This day couldn’t get more perfect.
The lama makes his way to Gary after he is done lunching on my scarf and starts to lick and bite his hands (no pain…he used no force at all)- we are laughing so hard and I’m laugh crying, and Gary is being eaten, and I’m starting to wonder if we’ve been roofied. So we start to gather a crowd. And then they notice I’m paining..and apparently I paint for a very long time before I notice them, and all the questions ensue about how to paint and how long this will take to dry and if anything is for sale and if I’m well known (which makes all of us laugh) and and and…and next someone is reaching out and looking through my sketch book…and my moment is over.
Nicole and I decide that this is the perfect time for our sister jumpie. I’ve packed up my paints and the lama has moved off a little (we’ve learned his name is Bad Boi and he is a regular here, even if still wild- he likes to eat scarfs and scare little children- but is completely harmless-unless you have an aversion to lama slime….). We off to the side and Chris gets set with the camera and we jump. Well, as usual I jump and Nicole gets on her tip toes and pretends to jump. We get about 3 in before the whistle blows and we are being yelled at in Spanish to stop and lots of “ugg- american’s” eye rolls are happening from the security here on the mountain. So we stop- we had no idea this would be an issue. There were no “no sister jumpies” signs. And we were off to the side out of everyone’s view…. But we’re not here to make waves. Just memories. And now we have a picture 😊.
Our cups are full now….I mean -not of wine. That’s been gone for a while. But the other cup. Full to the brim. I think this may be my favorite anniversary memory of all time. Honestly. And its up there with our favorite adventure vacation memories in general- it will stay shiny in my brain for years- I remembered this one in HD for sure. So we make our way down the mountain- the thing that brought us to Peru…and it was a highlight of the trip- but I’m not sure it on its own would be the thing I would come back for. It’s the cultural quilt of Peru that will make me long to come back- the people and the food, the breathtaking scenery, from the coast to the Andes, and the coziness of the Amazon.
Once we do that one last perilous bus ride down, we go for lunch. We have a little time before we have to board the train back. We saddle up at a spot with a great view where we can sit in the sun and unpack the most epic day! We order pub style wings wondering if they’ll be able to get it right…and I’m not sure what we were worried about. They are some of the best!. Hot and sticky, booked to perfection, extra sauce on the side as all wings should have. Then we have chicken and steak sandwiches with french-fries and lots of beers. The perfect celebration Muppet lunch. Then back to get the luggage, a little more shopping, and one last beer for the train. Once boarded we find out that the AC is broken, which becomes increasingly more uncomfortable as we get going- one young German lady in total panic as she starts to get claustrophobic with the lack of air. Gary brings her some cold water as everyone tries to calm her down. Eventually they stop the train and open the doors to get more air in, instructing us to stay seated since the doors are ajar. While we are stopped we all notice some kids waving at the train from the side of the track…so we all start to throw out some of our packaged snacks to them- and they are delighted! Catching it all and giggling with the excitement of the haul. Then we’re off again, and eventually, after fighting the urge to nap- almost prying my eyes open so I can take in every last second of these mountains-we arrive back in the sacred valley and find Jackie waiting for us. We board our van for the drive back to Cusco for the next 2 nights. It is dark within the first 30 mins of the drive, and that means its muppet’s go night night time. Burnt from the day in the mountain sun and full with food and beers- we are the easiest drive she’s had yet I’m sure. Snuggled in- we all awake just as we pull up to the hotel and are nudged ever so gently by Jackie with a…”heyyyyyy…were herrrreeeeeee…” and out we get.
The hotel is beautiful- another old Monastery converted into a lovey spot with an inner courtyard and rooms surrounding it. Our room is huge and the ceilings are impossibly tall- four poster beds and sitting rooms, with a sweet little balcony that overlooks the city and a busy square. We settle in and have dinner at the hotel- Nicole and I are feeling the altitude tonight-Gary seems okay, and Chris again seems to be struggling…but I’ve definitely gotten the brunt of it. I can’t really eat dinner…and I turn down WINE. So you know I’m not feeling well.
After dinner I do the thing Karen does and just give the peace symbol and walk away while everyone is talking. And crawl in bed asleep before I hit the pillow. Hoping I wake up a mountain goat and have miraculously gotten used to the altitude overnight. And after gasping and sitting straight up in bed about 3 times during the night, by morning I’m all good. And so is everyone else for the most part. So we meet in the lobby after a great buffet breakfast with a lovely omelet station, and we get to see Paul again! He is our city tour guide for the day and meets us out front. He starts by telling us that Cusco had a 5.5 earthquake while we were in the valley! I’m bummed we missed it, although this is a very unpopular opinion- the others content that we dodged that. He takes us to a number of spots of importance in the city, including some inka ruins, and a look off of the entire city. Its colorful and the mountain side and valley it leads to is speckled with a confetti of houses.
We tell him we want to shop. So he brings us to an alpaca farm and we get to browse their wares- coming out with gloves and hats and shawls. I keep noticing these beautiful raw wool hanging art pieces. I don’t know if the description will do it justice, but it’s basically a single thick length of raw wool in a naturally dyed color, and from it is strung other pieces of raw form wool- in complimentary colors. Kind of like a classy version of an old 70’s beaded curtain. The hanging wool is various types and textures. And. I’m. Obsessed. Like, I keep checking prices. And let me tell you- I’m not sure what type of alpaca this wool came from- but she ‘spensive. She’s like a wagu alpaca or something. A single 1 foot length with maybe 3 strings of wool hanging from it is about $120-150 Canadian. Which just makes me want it more because girl math. Damn it I hate myself sometimes. And although I come away from that shop without one, I make it my mission to find one I can’t live without, and then find out how many overtime hours I have to work to get it. And then convince Nicole she needs one too so as to easier convince Chris that it’s an investment we can’t walk away from. (As you know, Gary doesn’t factor in here because he doesn’t even know if they use a bank. You know the story of Jack and the beanstock? Gary would definitely sell the family’s best cow for magic beans. Except those beans would turn out to just be squirrel scat and he’d sheepishly laugh and ask Nicole to “call her sister” and figure it out while he drank a beer. We don’t need to sneak purchases by Gary). Anyway, there is a plan. And I plan to make it a reality. One of these useless strings of dust collectors WILL be mine before we leave here.
We go to a market in the middle of the city- and this is fascinating. It’s brimming with people. Shoulder to shoulder in many areas. There are food venders, serving things that look delicious but dangerous somehow- us all quickly deciding that we are not cool enough to eat at them. Ordering would be a daunting task. But Paul takes us to 6 different venders he clearly had a relationship with, and treats us to fruit- 16 different kinds, most I’ve never heard of, that are each more incredible then the last. The most tender and juicy mango I’ve ever had. Little lychee’s, tart and textural. A pear like fruit that is decidedly the favorite for everyone. Pealed, Cut and doled out on the spot, still warm from the sun. We buy a few souvenirs, but the purpose of this visit is just to observe the culture. And we do. We drink it in, thirsty as always for that out of body experience only these local markets can provide.
After this we visit a Catholic church in the middle of the city. The oldest in the area- and one that has a very interesting mixture- a compromise of belief between the inka and the Bible- very interesting. And beautiful. It’s not lost on us that there is more gold and silver in this church then the entire country’s citizens combined worth. And as we are all thinking it, Paul says the same in a low voice- like he can hear our thoughts in this church. (I hope not….).
After that we are parted from Paul- he is done for the day and we all hug and say our goodbyes. Thank him. Great guy.
We ask where we should eat lunch, and are seated by a window overlooking the busy square he left us in.
(Trigger warning: Rodents are eaten. That is all.)
I’ll just get this out of the way- Chris orders Cuy. Yes, Guinea pig. And let me assure you- your pets are safe around us. Everything we’ve eaten in Peru has been amazing- I’d even go so far as to say a few of them were the best things I’ve ever eaten in my life. But Cuy? NEWP. No. Not great. Very fatty and stringy at the same time. It stereotypically tastes a little like chicken, with the gamier part of Duck or rabbit thrown in. We don’t eat much of it. It doesn’t help that its presentation resembles the way they pinned a frog down for dissection in science class circa 8th grade. It’s whole, and on its belly- all four legs out like it’s flying. Head attached. I want to get it a Mylar get well soon balloon and put it on its little burned wrist. I will admit I feel a little guilty since we didn’t eat a lot of it. But it’s checked off the list. Permanently.
From there Nicole and I do what we do. And decide that for this one afternoon- this one vacation day- this glorious afternoon- we are going to spend with abandon and revel in the sheer joy of lots of room left in our suitcases, and a credit card bill that won’t catch up with us until next month sometime- when we are at our work computers cursing at the screen yes, but remembering the joy of fiscal abandon and the easy ramp up we tend to give each other on the last day of every trip.
Pillow covers. Dog sweaters. Napsacks. People Sweaters. Hoodies. Gloves. Mittens. Hats. Candle holders. Mugs. Pens. Coffee table books. Spices. Incense. Wooden boxes. Notebooks. Bags of beavers.
If it’s on offer, we try to find a place in our lives for it. I can’t remember carrying this much back with us from a single city afternoon anywhere else in the world. I’m lying. We do this every time. But this one is particularly epic.
It’s about mid way through this shopping extravaganza that I spot the first strung yarn art piece- the pieces form earlier I said I’m obsessed with. It’s in the purple tones, and it’s absolutely lovely. About 1.5 ft wide With maybe 10 stings of raw yarn hanging from it. I ask a price and am told quickly $400 USD.
I back away slowly, trying to keep my visa from jumping on the counter. Let’s be reasonable.
I see another. But it’s very blue, not really what I’m looking for, however, this money ain’t going to waste itself. So I give it a good look over. About 1.5 ft wide again, with maybe 8 pieces of wool. Price? $350usd. At least we’re going in the right direction. Ish.
Then I see it.
In the corner of a shop strung across a door and held back on one side. I ask if I can touch it. The room recedes behind me/ sound muffles. Hello lover.
It’s all the earthy colors- deep purples….wine burgundy… browns….olive greens. Each string incredibly raw and unprocessed, some fuzzy, some silky, some braided, some itchy (you can just tell). And it’s about 5ft wide. It’s BEGGING to be strung over a piece of drift wood and hung from my bedroom wall. …and maybe cut in Half. So my sister and I can each have a part, of a part, of this trip on our walls. And it wouldn’t have mattered if they asked my one of my ovaries. It was coming home with me.
The owner starts to down play it. says the colors are not as vibrant as the usual ones- she’s apologizing for not having a “less depressing” color option. But this is Peru done the Karen way. Not vibrant, not flashy, but muddy and deep. Earthy. Like it’s seen some crap.
When I get a price out of her, it’s the equivalent of about $200 Canadian. And what would have seemed atrocious to me if you’d asked me the week before we left for this magical country, now seems like an investment in my memories’ future. And my cash is on the table before I can even tell Nicole we are redecorating that wall in her living room.
We skip like we’ve been on the yellow brick road the whole way back to the hotel. Nicole and I decide that 1.5 hours will be spent packing very quickly before dinner. Her and Gary are heading to Costa Rica in the early morning, and Chris and I are heading home- Firmly regretting not adding on the extra week. But it wasn’t possible work wise. So if I have room, it is the plan that will take anything they need me to- to free up some room and weight for the next leg of the trip for them.
By the 1.5 hr point I’m packed and have about 20lbs for Nicole to utilize. We very quickly get that sorted, and Nicole and I do the other thing we do the last night of most trips. We waddle off on a pizza mission. Long live the ninja turtles.
Sourced pretty much right next to our square, we order far to much including the hot pepper topping they tell us white people dont usually order, go find and buy wine, and then come back to wait for our pizza, while the boys drink wine back in the hotel room and talk about how much, next trip we’re going to pack lighter. Mmmmhmmm.
While we wait for pizza we realize that this shop isn’t used to people Ordering 3 large pizzas at once or the gringo tourists asking for the respectable hottest hot pepper. They are so excited that they keep bringing us chocolate dipped strawberries. And we eat them the minute the arrive so that they realize we are thank ful.
Then they bring more.
Again we quickly eat.
Then more.
And we finally realize that we are going to be fed strawberries until we die if we don’t stop eating them so fast. So we take these slowly. And by the time we are done, the pizzas are ready and we bring them back to the boys.
We cheers another great Muppet adventure. We talk about our favorite days on the trip, the best meals, nicest hotels. We do that thing where we can’t believe the things that happened at the start of the trip were only 2 weeks ago- they seem like a lifetime.
The wine flows and flows, and we tell Gary and Nicole about a visit to an old favorite restaurant we had a few months back.
When we were first married, our big night out was Eastside Mario’s. Sometimes with the kids-because Codi could eat free, and sometimes we’d treat ourselves and go out for the night alone while we missed them. But it was our spot. Yes, you read that right- East Side Mario’s. We thought it was the height of Italian cuisine and sophistication. We decided we were not like everyone else, we chose Italian, not a burger joint …we felt boujee. We’d make sure we never ordered the same thing- each with a different pasta so we could try each others. We’d even get an appie to share. And bottomless Diet Cokes.
Well, one day last year we suited up for dinner in the city. Mappatura’s downtown. A very niche Italian spot, the best we’ve had this side of Naples. It’s pricy but we wanted a night out together. So I put on the stiletto boots and black sweater dress, Chris in his Burberry sweater and the jeans I always make him wear, and off we went on a Friday night. Only to get within 15 mins of downtown and find an accident has backed up traffic for hours. Plans had to change.
….”hey, what about Eastside?” I laughed and said. It was literally right there. And not packed. And I’m sure we’d like it! We used to! We’re a little overdressed, but hey, might save us $300 too. Chris’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. Let’s do it.
We walked in and the memories flooded in. I swear it was still the same server from 23 years ago. We were seated and from the booth we tucked into we could see the booth we used to sit at in the corner. We giggled picturing “young” us looking at “now” us, thinking- who let the old boujee people in and why are they dressed to go to the met gala?
Menu was passed out and we ordered the valentine’s day special. Bolognese spaghetti for me and chicken parm for Chris. It came with an appie, breaded pizza balls in tomato sauce. An Italian classic?…….It was listed as $50. We giggled. We also ordered a bottle of wine. To which our server said, “I just have to see if we actually have bottles. I’ve never had someone order one….”. They did have one and when she brought it she didn’t know how to open it, the corkscrew was dangerously close to her face as she struggled, Chris took over and popped it quickly. We were given tumblers for wine glasses. The salad arrived and it was as we remembered, strangely slightly warm, with not enough parm. Then the food arrived – and as we took our first bites we locked eyes. WOW. Although chef Boyardee would have been impressed, we were in shock….. How did we enjoy this? It was almost un-eatable. And as we sat there and drank our wine and pushed our food around our plate I looked over at our old Booth.
It now had a family at it. And I thought about us back then.
I pictured us now, walking over to us then, and sliding in.
I picture us smiling.
Saying quietly-
“…just wait. You’re doing a good job. And it will keep getting better and better, so good, in fact, that you’ll have to remind yourself this is real life. Some bad stuff will happen, and there will be huge changes, but this love will get so big it will dwarf everything else.
And this food?
Enjoy it.
But you will eat a 1am bacon carbonara at a restaurant in Venice that will make you cry- with the warm air and the salt water mist stinging your eyes, just before you head to your room and watch the canals from your balcony.
You will both walk the Great Wall with your sister and her amazing husband just before you have the most incredible meal of your life thus far at a hole in the wall hot pot restaurant in Beijing.
You will have an anniversary supper in the middle of a group of elephants just before heading to your tent for the night to listen to lions roar in the near distance.
And you’ll have one of the best meals of your life, yet again, a melt in your mouth ceviche, in the middle of the Amazon jungle on a random Thursday just before you go on a hike to find the most dangerous spiders in the world.
And you will live.
You will live 10 lives in the next 20 years.
But you’ll come back here, to this exact restaurant, and see yourself someday. And you’ll remind yourself to be thankful. And that you wouldn’t change a single thing.”
And as we walked away we’d look at ourselves. Me at me and Chris at Chris…and we’d say “I love you”- something I wish I’d said to myself more- goodness knows I remembered to say it to others.
By the time the waitress came back to the table to see if we needed anything – we were smiling, holding hands and crying. I’m sure she was thinking- “and this is why we don’t sell bottles of wine….”.
We floated home that night. It was a good one- we giggled all the way talking of all the things we have seen and done since then. All that had changed. What we’ve prioritized and what we’ve left behind. What we’ve taken on and what we’ve let go of.
And as we tell Nicole and Gary the story, I cry. And Nicole is crying. And Chris and Gary too. And we ask them what they would say to themselves-if given the opportunity. And they say the same- memories of trips. And a reassurance that even though it’s good now, you’d be amazed at how much better things would get.
Someone told me that reminiscing is looking at our lives without with anxiety of how it turns out. You can really enjoy it in retrospect. Isnt that true.
Nicole pours two new glasses, gives me a nod, and we go to the balcony to look at our newly adopted city. We collect these things. We make them ours, these places. Its our city now.
We sit in our Jammie’s. Bundled in blankets even though it’s far too warm. Nicole in her big wool socks. Me in my constant companion slippers.
We don’t say much.
We don’t need to.
These times at the end of trips with my sister are snapshots I keep in my mind. Afraid to paint them. It might change them somehow, have me remember them wrong.
So we sip. And giggle every now and then. Another adventure in the books.
And then we come back into a room of sleeping husbands, stir them awake, and waddle off to bed.
We miss mom and dad and the doggos. And our routines. But sorry, not enough to be leaving tomorrow. I could do another few weeks easy. Or so that bottle of wine told me. What I really need is some salad and to sleep in my own bed.
We tuck in and before we know it it’s tomorrow and there are goodbyes by the entrance. We go our separate ways.
What an epic trip it’s been.
I can’t wait to tell the old East Side Mario’s crew about this one.
Until next time muppet nation….
