Inka Trail, foo´!

Yes, unfortunately there was an occurance in those few days that I was supposed to update the blog. That occurence was a combination of me forgetting and me really not wanting to. But alas! Here is a (probably) small post written in the lobby of a hotel with newfound internet. I will either post again, or add some more onto this post soon. For now... lets talk Inka Trail.

The basic history surrounding the Inka Trail is that there is this place called Machu Picchu (heard of it? Check the cover of your spanish workbooks) . It is supposedly pretty great. Some farmer was doing his plowing up the side of a mountain in the Andes in a rainforest(?) and suddenly came accross an ancient culture. Whodathunkit.

A trail was discovered that was paved by the Inkas. Unfortunately, this path was neither big enough, nor easy enough to support several companies trying to make mad profits off of their own culture´s history, while simultaneously having stands set up every two hours with people trying to sell you soft drinks (dont you hate it when that happens?). A new one was built, still unpaved, still trecherous, but managable. We attempted this path.

We began at five in the morning before the sun came up in our little hotel. We all piled into a huge bus and traveled around Cusco, Peru for about an hour and a half rounding up all the people. We ended up with three Swedish gals (aged 19 to 20), and three Aussies, (two were a couple, the other free lancing) a Norweigan couple, an English couple, and one other American. We really couldn't have asked for a better group.

Our guide than introduced himself as Freddy. He seemed to find it hilarious to add "Kruger" onto his name. And he didn't let us forget it.

After a morning of bus driving, hawker (people that sell you stuff) avoiding, and picture taking, we finally began the trail. 

The three days that we spent on the trail were absolutely gorgeous. Like, seriously. I can say that even though I'm male. Be quiet. 

Although the first day was accompanied by railroads and powerlines, we soon were able to stray off and go through empty valleys. The first day was pretty straightforward. We soon learned that hiking at 3500 meters (roughly 10,000 feet) is NOT the same as hiking at sea level. The small amounts of uphill we had to do left us breathless, but we quickly began to acclimate (that means getting more blood cells, which means getting more oxygen from the air.)

Our camping arrangements wasn't bad. There is a stereotype among the people hear that gringos (white people) a normally pretty rich and like things posh. Thus leading me to my next point. Although we lived in tents, and had to use squat toilets, mealtimes were something else. If you have ever been to Widji, you'll know what I mean when I say lunch time isn't usually the most formal of times. But her, oh no. We got EVERYTHING, including somethings I'm pretty sure I don't eat most of the time. At lunch time, the porters, who not only carry fifty pounds of weight up rocky slopes, but also pitch our tents, cook our food, and do pretty much everything, set up an entire tent where they set out folding tables (that they had to carry on their back) then set out over a dozen folding chairs (also carried on their backs) and then set the table with napikins for everyone a fork, knife and TWO SPOONS! I mean come on... I don't really need that much. THen we were served some soup, and then the main course, complete with meat, veggies, bread, potatoes, and many other things. At dinner we got pudding. 

The second day was grueling. Not only was five of the seven hours straight uphill, but my mom got as sick as... a dog? Even though I was healthy, I was having serious trouble that day, having to hold my sides as we went up over a kilometer. Reaching the highest point on the Inca Trail, we set down the rocks that we brought up to honor Pachamama (Mother Earth in Inca speak), and then ate our candy bars. It was at that point that more walking didn't really seem like an option. I was a little to selfish at that point to realize that my parents were two hours behind, counting the amount of steps until their next break. I headed down.

Our descent was over five hundred meters, and we quickly realized that the most efficient way of sparing our knees from telescoping was to run. After forty-five minutes of hoping boulders, and taking switch-backs at top speed, we came to our camp. It took the rest of the evening for my knees to stop shaking. 

The third day was non-descript. We did some uphill. We did some downhill. It was cold. It was cloudy. Near the end we came across some spectacular views of a  huge river running in between the mountains. We would follow that river to Machu Picchu. 

The next morning (if you can call it that) we woke up at 3:45 a.m. We had to sprint down the trail as soon as we could to get in line for the entrance to Machu Picchu. As we got in, we began brushing our teeth and watching the slower groups line up behind us. 

As soon as we got through the warden's place, we had to pick up the pace. At Machu Picchu there is a semi-famous hike that takes you directly above the ruins for ultra-cool views. Unfortunately, spots on this hike are limited, so speed was of importance. While we left the old people in the dust, we basically ran/speed walked for an hour over rocky terrain until we came to the famous ruins. Regretfully, my first thought was "Hey, this looks like my Spanish workbook". 

As we entered the ruins, we didn't have time to enjoy it, because we had to get into line for hike tickets. Glancing at multicentury-old architecture, we sprinted up myriad steps through fantastic ruins, across fabuous plains until we came to the ticket office, with a longer-than-long line streaming from it. After a long wait we received our tickets, number 375 out of the 400 available spots. Looking up at the mountain we were about to hike, I was suddenly struck awe/exhaustion. There are times in your life when you have worked for something very hard, and when you see the payoff you see it was all worth it. This was not one of those times. 

While roaming the ruins while waiting for our hike time (8:00) we could easily distinguish the people that took the train to the ruins from the hikers. There is a certain amount of smugness that you feel when you pass the obese guy with the too-tight hat strap and the large camera hanging around his neck and the guy in the collared shirt with the goofy grin who is videotaping the book that his guide is showing him.

After our hike (which can be described as so-grueling-that-I-won't-even-go-into-detail-but-let's-be-honest-that-was-a-pretty-kick-butt-view-don't-you-think?), we hopped a bus (with air-conditioning!) down to Aguas Calientes, a small town that was built purely for the purpose of the high tourist population. There we took several hot showers, several hot spring baths, and several delicious hot meals. 

Our next trip was the Manu Biosphere Reserve, which will be a different post. I want to get this one on the web so people know I am still alive. I am really bad at posting. Sorry. It's what I do.

San Pedro de Lock Jaw

This time I have an excuse. For the last two weeks I have been living in an Andean village with absolutely no internet. I got back from there a couple days ago, and I spent those days unconscious. So now I am going to take full advantage of my free day to write a blog post from Cusco, Peru. Here it goes.

         Last time I blogged, I was talking about how much I adored La Paz. After spending three days there sight seeing and such, we hopped another bus. I must say, I am CRANKING through the books. When the bus came to a stop we found ourselves in no other place but Lake Titicaca! It is something like the biggest/highest/coolest lake in the world/south america/peru. I don't really know the details. Its pretty big though.

         Copacabana (the town we were in) is at something like 3800 meters, which is roughly (very roughly) 10,000 feet. That is high. Breathing gets hard and headaches become abundant, and you feel like you suddenly gained fifty pounds overnight. Activities were limited. We eventually gained the courage to take an hour boat ride out to La Isla Del Sol, and for those of you that don't speak Spanish, that means The Sun Island. There we took a five hour hike (which would have been plenty difficult without the altitude) and saw some Incan ruins. Our tourguide spoke to us completely in Spanish, and I was proud of myself when I could understand almost everything he was saying (and in case you were wondering, this guy got a 96% on the National Spanish Exam). It was a day well spent.

         The following day we hopped another bus to Puno, another town on Lake Titicaca, about three hours away. There we got to see the Floating Islands, which I heard were made out of reeds. I really had no idea what this meant, so I expected to see a couple patches of weed growth and then go home. Instead I found out that people had actually made entire islands out of cut reeds. If this isn't the coolest idea since sliced bread, I don't know what is.

         We took a boat up to one of them, where we were warmly welcomed by a family that spoke both Quechua, the native language, and Spanish. The kids, who went to a slightly run down school, were taught Japanese, English, and French in addition to their previous two languages. Kids are raised here to help with the things that run their economy. This is namely tourism. Although it is great that they have anything running their economy, I can't help but feel a little sad about this fact.

         Then we finally took a really long bus ride (that was the only form of transportation for two weeks) to Lima, the capital of Peru. There we had one night before we began our second service project. Early that morning we were picked up by our liaison, Edwin, who brought us to the bus station (one hour away from Lima), where we would take a three hour bus ride up really bumpy roads around a huge Andean canyon-like-thing to our final destination. San Pedro de Casta. We arrived fairly late at night, taking our suitcases out of the back and carrying them (not rolling them, because the roads were made out of huge rocks) up a steep road at 10,000 feet. At the top we came across the hotel that we were going to be spending the next two weeks in. There was no hot water, the water could not be drunk because it was so dirty, there was no heating, and no internet. At the time I was pretty gung-ho about the whole thing, because going rustic is the kind of thing I do. That feeling didn't last long.

         Our first project was the greenhouse. Ever morning at nine o'clock we would eat our breakfast (which was Nesquick hot chocolate and PB & J sandwiches. We quickly realized that peanut butter was a delicacy that had to be conserved) and head out to the school which was a three minute walk from the hotel. This town is very small. The total population is about 900 people. That is less than Breck School. 

         We then would spend about four hours drilling holes in plastic and snipping wire and tying wire and lifting plastic and sweating buckets and drinking water and digging holes and placing poles and sawing wood… we worked like machines for those four days, until we found ourselves next to an eight foot tall awkward-looking greenhouse. We even installed a wooden door in the plastic. I was pretty proud of myself.

         Whilst we were doing this, my pa (I actually don’t call him pa) was working on the computers. The computer teacher at the school was talking about how he was going to get internet in two days. This made me pretty excited, but as it turns out, it took us exactly two weeks to get internet in San Padro de Casta. Although this disappointed me, the school is now able to surf the web at a very slow speed. We are hoping that this will increase the level of learning in the school.

         The next thing we were assigned to do were the Lorena Stoves. There were ten different homes that wanted us to come in and help them build them a stove. We spent an entire day having little kindergarteners help us pile bricks into wheelbarrows and bringing them to the school. Besides one mishap when I hit a piece of metal sticking out of the ground and throwing myself into one of the handles, the day passed pretty smoothly. The next two days we visited people’s homes and either helped them with the stoves or watched them make the stoves. Apparently our presence was what was making this happen, not our labor. I am still trying to figure that one out. Each time we finished a stove, we gave the family a lecture in Spanish about the benefits of Vitamin C, and what harm not having it can do. We then proceeded to juice about six oranges and give it to them. I enjoyed this part. We even got them to juice a couple tears for us. I was touched.

         The last project that we worked on while we were in San Pedro de Casta (this was the same time as we discovered bed bugs in our beds) was their museum. Since tourism is something that is a source of a lot of their income, we were told to clean up their school museum and write blurbs in English and Spanish. When we first entered the museum, it wasn’t like the museums that you are used to. It was one room filled with a bunch of glass cases with dead people looking out of them. If you continued around the room, you found tables with broken skulls and severed feet just sitting on them. My favorite part of the museum was the poster that they hung on the wall about all the morals of the Incas. One of them was (and I’m translating from Spanish) “Don’t be a traitor. The Incas may have conquered many lands and killed many people but they were never traitors”.

         We spent the next days reading really old pamphlets and newspaper articles in Spanish and French (primary sources!), painting signs, and interviewing this guy whose father was an archaeologist. All of this information that we were receiving was on the topic of Marcahuasi, a large piece of land about a two hour horse ride from San Pedro. It is known for its ruins and animal-shaped rocks. Looking at the rocks, they are kind of a stretch.

         The last days were coming to an end. Although we really were glad that we had done this, the rice and potato meals two meals a day in combination with going to bed with four layers on and taking a shower every fourth day really started to wear down on us. Lying down on my bed in the Double Tree hotel in Lima could be considered one of the most relieving things I have ever done. Then I ate a huge plate of spaghetti and fell asleep for 72 hours.

         Yesterday we took a PLANE to Cusco, Peru. In a few days we are going to hike the Inca trail all the way to Machu Picchu. After that we will come back to Cusco for another three days (where I will hopefully blog again), and then we will be off to the Manu Bio Reserve for nine days where we are going to be able to see a ton of monkeys and canoe and stay in huts and basically live the life in the Amazon jungle.

         I hope you guys are having fun in Minnesota/Kentucky/New Mexico!

 

Comments!

Fortunately, Dragon Blood was not extremely abundant.

 

We tried some coca tea, and instead of helping us with our altitude sickness, we just got a gross taste of corn in our mouth. Also, 22,000 feet is a little higher than I am going. Mount Everest is 29,000.

 

You’re right. I meant heebie jeebies.

 

You’re righ MonkAreYOu Bali (who are you?), this IS so nice site. You’re grammar is in serious need of assistance.

 

And Nicholas, as much as I love how you are trying to help me with my spelling, something tells me that isn’t what you’re trying to do. Tapistries can be spelled however I want them to, thank you very much. Turns out coca is about .5% cocaine.

 

Of course I didn’t forget Rebecca! Tell her my Spanish is getting flawless!