| 8 Days in Perú |
| a true story - by Michael H. Green |
Essays:
Going Global
Integrity
Evolution
Interpretations:
Creative Writing:
Quotes
CV:
Photos by Lisandro
Upon leaving work for the airport, unprecedented excitement reigned through my being. My perception of life was grand. For no traditionally practical purpose, I was enroute to a foreign land, completely unknown to me. I had a connection in Newark. I'd planned on arriving in Lima at 5:40am and catching a 6am flight to Cuzco, once the capital of the Inka empire, and the oldest inhabited city in the Americas.
The plane gathered its runway speed, and was ready to lift off, when a last second intuition sparked the Pilot to slam the brakes. The plane was mildly taxiing on the runway when, 20 minutes later, he spoke to his bewildered passengers.
"We'll be taxiing in to check the status
of one of the engines, I had an intuition
that it may not be functioning properly."We were forced to deboard the plane, and were on another 4 hours later. It landed in Lima at 10am.
Clearing customs consisted of walking past a pair of relaxed customs agents. I walked through completely untouched, and seemingly unnoticed. People were trying to sell me tours of the city, taxi rides, flights, hotels and probably anything that I'd asked for. I smiled, questioned and mildly laughed. After finding the ticket counter, I bought a ticket for Cuzco. I proceeded to my gate, when a woman casually approached me and recommended a hotel in Cuzco. She took my name.
The flight was picturesque. A one hour flight equaled 40 hours by bus. This was because the snow capped Andean mountain range which sits in-between Lima and Cuzco made for slow and treacherous bus and car travel. The views were stunning. My reason for this flight was to hike the Inka Trail. I received a grand bonus in seeing some of the world's highest mountains and snow capped peaks from aloft. The infinite shapes of the mountains brought upon a heightened sensory experience. The plane didn't hesitate to fly what seemed close to the mountain range.
Upon leaving the airport in Cuzco, a woman had a sign which inscribed my name. She already knew my visual profile. She called my name, then drove me to a hotel and took care of my entire semi-rushed itinerary. This included hotel accommodations, the Inka trail trek, and my return flight to Lima. She acted as a personal agent.
I couldn't start the Inka Trail the next day because it was Sunday, el dia sagrada (the sacred day). This would prove sacred for me. I was eager to start trekking, but I quickly developed Soroche, (Altitude Sickness). It would have been too painful to start the trek so soon.
Soroche, (Altitude illness) is expected for a visitor coming from an area like Boston (at sea level). I wasn't hungry, I had a dry throat and cough. My body demanded extra sleep.
My doctor prescribed Diamox. It may have helped, however, upon swallowing a pill, tingling sensations were produced throughout my body. It wasn't painful, just odd. My intuition elected to immediately terminate the use of Diamox.
The ancient and modern Inka remedy for Soroche is Mate de Coca (Coca Tea). Also legal in Peru, is the chewing of Coca leaves. They are said to expand ones blood vessels, hence thickening the blood, and allowing the person to cope better with the acclamation of high altitudes. I wasn't thirsty. I forced water down as that certainly helped. The Coca helped also. But I still believe that time is the only remedy for extracting Soroche from one's system.
Many people in this region chew Coca, along with rubbing a plant called Gifta on the leaves. Gifta is said to extract the cocaine from the hoja (leaf). For poor people, Coca is very useful. It helps to keep awake. They are forced to work long hours. The stomach contracts, making the leaves act as an appetite suppressor. This allows people to save money by spending less on food.
Upon my first day in Peru, in Cuzco, I met two young guys on the street. They were soliciting handouts to tourists. They received a meager commission when getting a tourist to eat at a tourist restaurant. The restaurant served only North American and European food, geared towards the ugly tourist. I exclaimed,
"What are you guys crazy? I have 8 days in
Peru, do you think that I have time
to eat anything but Peruvian food?"
"We'll take you for real Peruvian food."
"Vamos amigos!"We walked through a hustling, ancient, yet contemporary Cuzco, population 300,000, most whom are of Inka decent, and speak Quechuan as their first tongue, and Spanish second. Their were stone walls that today's technology can't construct. This baffled me, yet added a sense of curiosity, interest and inquisition to my thought perceptive stance.
We ate typical Peruvian food. It was Rico (delicious). Along with the tasty comidas (meals), we drank a hearty amount of Cuzceña Negra (dark beer made in Cuzco). Cuzqueña also featured a pale lager, said to be the best beer in all of South America.
The boys told me about Inka history, and about modern day Peru. They were curious to know about the United States.
After the meal we walked back to plaza de las armas, the city's center. Due to the beer (5.4% alcohol), the Soroche, and the fact that I hadn't slept in 34 hours, I was ready for bed. It was about 4pm. I slept like a baby for 5 hours.
I awoke at 9pm and ventured outside in my short sleeved shirt to discover that the night climate was another season compared to the days'. It was cold. I lacked warm clothes. There were many shops in the city's center. All were open. I purchased gloves, a hat, a sweater and a jacket. The store merchants informed me that I'd especially need this clothing for my Inka trail journey.
After a mandatory shopping excursion, I slurped some rich Peruvian soup. I then sampled various alcohol of Peru, the famous cocktail Pisco Sour, and the body shaking Pisco. I walked around the city, but the Soroche caused mild nausea. I returned to my hotel and slept a solid night.
The next day I walked aimlessly around Cuzco, far away from the tourist center. I walked through grand markets, rural hills, and along congested city streets. I witnessed small children carrying big rocks and bricks up hills. They were so young. The poor survive by putting their children into hard labor. The kids didn't seem to know that this was virtually beyond their physical means. They were playing and having fun while performing physically grueling work.
I sampled exotic foods, and experienced beautiful views of the ancient city of the Inkas.
Upon speaking to someone about Soroche, (Altitude sickness), I was told that the best cure is sleep. I felt exhausted. They deemed me crazy for not resting more during my second day at such an alien altitude.
My trek would start the following morning, I needed rest and slept wonderfully. I awoke to a jugo natural (fresh squeezed juice), coffee and mate de coca.
After copious liquid consumption, I met my guide and 8 others for a van ride of 3 hours. We ate breakfast, purchased our satchels of Coca leaves and Gifta, and proceeded to start hiking the world famous Inka Trail.
The day was beautiful, it was la estacion seca (the dry season). We walked for a few hours, sometimes it was flat and other times steep inclines. We stopped for lunch on a big grass field by a waterfall. The mountain views peered from every radius. We'd keep walking. The plants were wondrous. Everything was new. The multiple, virtually infinite views became more splendid. We'd come across ruins, and stop, while our guide (Christian) talked about Inka history and what once happened in the particular spot where we were.
Being out in the beautiful nature away from all civilization gave me energy and vigor, and a feeling of appreciation. When living in a city, it's easy to forget about the beautiful earth that is still plentiful.
At dusk we'd find our campsite. The porters had set up our tents, they fed us chicken and rice, and as with every meal on the trek, tea.
My group featured an Argentinean photography maven in great spirits, a Peruvian-North-American (native in both tongues) brother/sister duo who were visiting relatives, and the country where they were born. They were able to explain many nuances of the language. Also on the trek was their pretty prima (cousin) from Lima.
Also in our relatively small group, was an intellectual American adventurous/marathon travel girl, and a German girl who'd just spent 10 months living with a family in a very poor section of Lima. She was there trying to help what was an impoverished and decaying social situation. I thought that to be a heavy contribution to the human condition. The trek also consisted of a very open minded Japanese girl who travels extensively.
That night we drank wine and rum. We had one cup and kept passing it around the circle. The native Spanish speakers were singing songs. The guide came over and spoke to us.
"Tomorrow will consist of 9 hours of rigorous
walking. We'll be going straight up for the
first four or five hours. Then we'll go
down for about two hours before a one and
one-half hour lunch break. Then we'll continue
to hike up for a few hours."It was 8:30pm, we decided it best to drink the rest of the rum at another time. We retired to our tents.
I awoke at 3am, having to use a natural makeshift bathroom. The stars were magnificent. At 4:30am, we awoke. After breakfast [photo - 85K] the steep ascent would begin. The scenery was spectacular. The climb was rough. Carrying a backpack increased the challenge. The hike kept changing. One moment we were hiking up a giant steep meadow like landscape.[photo - 126K] The sun shone bright above. An instant later we'd find ourselves walking through a shady, cool, misty cloud forest. The air provided cool and soothing refreshment.
The altitude change had an effect. I experienced no thirst. My heart was beating fast. It was time to delve into the Coca and Gifta stash. Everyone was chewing it, as a part of the experience. The effect I didn't like was that it acted as an appetite suppresser. After chewing Coca, food seems to taste vile. It also causes the stomach to contract, and not crave food.
We reached a summit, it was 4,200 meters high. The air was cold and raw. I plopped on the ground, ate a meager snack of canned Chilli, and rested. The Soroche increased my fatigue.
Next was a two hour descent to our lunch spot. There were ancient stairs built on a section of the trail, none were the same size. I twisted my ankle three times. Luckily it didn't sprain. When one sprains an ankle, the person must either limp in grave pain, or be carried for the rest of the trail. These are the only options.
We reached our lunch spot, ate and passed out on the ground, every one of us. Our guide woke us an hour later and said,
"We must leave now if we'll make our camp by nightfall."
We came across marvelous ruins. Christian would continue to give detailed explanations. At times el paisaje (landscape) was so impressive no words could possibly be used. I'd force myself to stop and gaze in admiration.
The Peruvian Andes have some of the highest peaks on earth, to be compared with those of the Nepalese Himalayas.
Upon our last descent to the evening's makeshift campsite, views continued to amaze the human eye. There were spots where ruins could be seen, blended beautifully with the Andean naturaleza (nature).
It was dark upon arrival. The temperature quickly dropped. We were above the clouds.
After a bland but carbohydrate filled dinner, we drank a bottle of sweet Peruvian wine. I was so exhausted that I had to make an attempt to sleep. It became too cold to sleep. I could only rest. Upon leaving my tent in the middle of the night to relieve myself, I witnessed the most impressive array of stars in my life. The stars were new because of their view from the Southern Hemisphere. I witnessed the Southern Cross in seemingly close proximity. In exchange for this unforgetable sight, I had to withstand a raw and arduous cold.
It was freezing the next morning at breakfast. I hiked a short distance to a wondrous ruin before returning to camp to retrieve my pack, and start hiking another stretch of the Inka Trail. The early morning sun created a renewed vigor, which extracted my feeling of depleted dismay.
Hiking through changing climates would continue to prevail. We'd be forced to hike through tunnels. More amazing ruins would be visited. The terrain kept changing. Early that afternoon, we'd arrive at an actual mountain establishment. Here we would eat and drink merrily.
The next morning at 4:30am, we were off for our final hike, to Machu Pichu, the Lost city of the Inkas. Machu Pichu, [photo - 79K] is one of the most renowned historical sites on earth, deservingly so. I don't believe words could describe it. We received a guided tour from a woman who genuinely enjoyed speaking of her ancestors, and their relationship to this mystical antiquation.
After spending the day in Machu Pichu, we took a bus to the market, train station town of Aguas Calientes, [photo - 82K] here hot springs soothe travelers upon their completion of the arduous Inka Trail.
In Aguas Calientes, we ate a meal in a restaurant rich with ambience. The décor featured splendid ancient Inka art in many forms. But the food didn't compare to the delectable ethnic cuisine of Cuzco or Lima.
I would take a ride on a local 5 hour train back to Cuzco. This ride featured many Indigenous people, who appeared to feel inferior to the foreigners and European Peruvians. This is how they were raised. It's almost an unwritten law in Peruvian society.
A woman had a huge jug of alcohol mix. Her group had turned their passage into a party. They appeared to be having fun. I couldn't sample the alcohol because surely the water would have made me sick. This train ride proved to be a genuine Andean experience.
Upon returning to Cuzco, I tried very hard to go clubbing with the only people from the trek who had miraculously found a way to energize themselves, Claudia, Eugenia, and their friend, Jose Antonio of Lima. But I became far too exhausted. Now I was fully acclimated to the altitude. But the extreme fatigue caused me to venture for my hotel bed.
The next morning I'd fly to Lima. The same woman who called my agent in Cuzco, was at the airport to greet me. She directed me to a cab driver, gave me her card, and offered me absolutely anything that I'd need to help my stay in Lima.
I had four addresses that I'd written down from my guide book. These were of cheap reputable hotels. I closed my eyes and pointed to one. The cab driver took me there. It was in Miraflores, the prestigious suburb of Lima, which has recently developed into its own city.
I proceeded to walk around with the intention of stumbling across anything that came along, or that I came along to. The unpredictability gave me a feeling of freedom. I visited a market and purchased various nuts and dried fruits. The market was vast. I really wished that we had these where I live. Any type of food item was available.
I then had my shoes shined, without having to remind myself of the need. After half an hour of walking aimlessly, a man approached me and told me that my shoes needed shining. In five minutes he had them looking like new. The trail had made them appear worn and ragged.
Next I saw a libreria (book store), and decided it was time to read my first Spanish novel. I browsed the shelves of Peruvian authors, the country's icons. The titles hinted that the books were written with heavy philosophical connotation. In a land of extreme diversity, profound artistic talent flourishes.
I didn't buy a book. While perusing the shelves, fatigue set in. I took a taxi back to my hotel. There I would attempt to sleep, I slept for an hour and a half when I heard banging, people were working relatively close by.
I started walking aimlessly once again. I ended up in a very poor neighborhood, the street Spanish was almost incomprehensible. Everything was shanty. I flagged down a seatbeltless VW Beetle taxi and asked to go to the center of Miraflores.
I walked around aimlessly yet again for 2 hours. I became bored. I saw a grocery store. Because I find foreign grocery stores interesting, I thought that I'd try to find at least a twinge of enjoyment.
While glancing at the various exotic bottles of Caribbean rum, a girl struck up a conversation with me. We talked in the store for about an hour, her in English, me in Spanish. Finally we bought beer and went to her luxury apartment.
After a couple of hours of beer consumption, and a heaping broiled mixed seafood plate that she'd prepared, she asked if I'd accompany her to a discotheque. We proceeded to swill beer in the forty-five minute taxi ride.
We danced for 3 hours, I became exhausted, I walked away for a minute, and then across the huge warehouse like disco to use the bathroom. Upon leaving the bathroom the establishment had filled. It was now very crowded. I didn't see the girl. The reason this bothered me was because she had forced me to carry her keys and her wallet of credit cards and identification.
I'd befriend other people from Lima that night. They seemed genuinely interested in a extranjero (foreigner) who spoke their language with a fair amount of broken gringo twang.
The following day I'd be invited to peoples homes for food and drink. I'd be introduced to entire extended families, neighbors, and friends. Everyone was overly kind. After consuming a few beers (this seemed like a weekend afternoon custom to them), I lost some inhibition, and withdrew the keys and identification of the girl. I told an obscure story to my new Peruvian acquaintances. I wanted ideas. There was no address on the identification. I found this odd. I had to explain that I had arrived in Lima (a megalopolis of 8 million people), on the same day I'd been at her apartment. I hadn't an idea where anything was, or where I'd been. I placed my fate in the hands of a few of the seemingly infinite number of Lima's taxi drivers.
One person exclaimed,
"This girl goes to the same University as my
brother, I'll give this stuff to him and he'll
give it to the school and they will see that
she gets it."I thought,
How wonderful, weight has been relieved from
my pockets, and more importantly, my mind.At midnight, my Peruvian amigos asked that I accompany them to another discotheque. I reluctantly declined as I would hail a taxi from my hotel at 5:30am the next morning to catch my flight home, thus assuring that I'd return to work on Monday morning. Upon returning to my hotel, I packed, and slept 4 hours before leaving for the airport.
After returning home, I felt energized and spiritually enlightened. I'd gained a wealth of priceless and intangible experience.
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