Transitioning to tourist

Monkey Island, on our way from Santa Clotilde, was the first stop on our transition to tourism. 

It was a lot of fun; just 20 minutes before we arrived in Iquitos.  All of the monkeys are rescue monkeys; they used to be pets.  Now they are living out in the open, and gradually becoming habituated to being back in the wild.  But they are very used to being around humans and very friendly!

It was a bit of a whirlwind in Iquitos; I had dinner with Padre Jack, Hermana Ana Laura and Anna Borkowska at El Balcon, overlooking the Malecon.  The town was supposed to be dry because of the elections but they served us surreptitious beer in coffee cups.  We talked about some of the challenges the Centro de Salud is facing; Padre Jack will be there for at least three months, so hopefully there can be some stability until a permanent medical director can be found.  Declan and I went to the Belen market with Lili and her son in the morning and saw all the exotic meats and the curandero medicines.  We went to the butterfly sanctuary in the afternoon, but there were not so many butterflies; apparently it is not the season.  I was a little bit sad because I had hoped to treat Lili and her grandson to something special, but it was a nice boat ride all the same.  In the evening we met up with Betty and her two adult children, Marita and Paul, with whom I had lived for two months, 22 years ago, when I was working in Iquitos.  A brief birthday drink with Ekaterina and Fabio and it was off to Cusco!

I visited Cusco with Antje many years ago, in 1996; it has grown a lot since then but it is still a beautiful city.  Nestled in the mountains, the high altitude makes it chilly.  The streets are narrow and cobblestoned with lots of hills.  Declan and I checked into the Ninos Maroc hotel, a very nice building constructed in the 1700’s; all of the proceeds from the hotel support a foundation that helps street children.  “What is the schedule for electricity?  What is the schedule for hot water?” I asked the woman at the front desk.  “No schedule; all day long!” she replied cheerfully.  We had some delicious pumpkin soup and pesto and a glass of wine; very ordinary pleasures for my life back in Chicago but it all seemed such an amazing treat after Santa Clotilde.

We had one chill-out day of walking around, then one “city tour” day of Sacsayhuaman and the Inca ruins around Cusco, then a one day tour of Rainbow Mountain.  Rainbow Mountain is a colorful mountainside in the Andes formed by sedimentary mineral layers in the mountain that have been exposed by erosion.  It’s a three-hour bumpy ride from Cusco; we got picked up at 3:45 AM (!) to make it there and back in a day.   The 5000 meter altitude (16,000 feet!) made it hard to walk more than a few steps at a time, despite the coca leaves and the “condor urine” that was distributed to perk us up.   Exhausting but beautiful; Declan got to snuggle with a friendly llama, and we returned to pack for the Inca Trail.

Years ago, when I did the trek with Antje, they did not require a guide.  I was younger, slimmer, and more fit than I am now; I remember packing food and tents and using water purification tablets.  These days, you must go with a guide, so we had a guide, plus porters for the tents and the food.  I paid extra to have the porters carry our sleeping bags, and I was glad that I did.  There were six people and two guides in our group: Daniel and Idoya were from Spain, in crazy-good shape.  Idoya runs half-marathons in the mountains every weekend as a hobby; even our longest day didn’t faze her. Ekow was a tennis coach from London; his fiancee Harriet was from Sydney.

It was a really nice way to approach Machu Picchu.  Although there are quicker routes to Machu Picchu from Cusco, the Inca Trail was more of a purifying pilgrimage route for astronomers, priests, engineers.   Declan complained about the walking “I’m going to trade you in for a different mom, a mom who cares!”, but in the end he was able to get into a bit of a groove.  “I just got lost in my thoughts and my body kept moving!”  How amazing to walk on a path that has been walked by so many people, over so many hundreds of years.

I was, of course, huffing and puffing and vowing to get into shape for once and for all.   We saw so many hummingbirds, and rainbows, and really striking mountains.  I had forgotten about how stunning all of the mountains around Cusco are.

And of course Machu Picchu itself.  We have all seen a million photos, but really the experience of walking through it is like being on the edge of the world. The stonework, everywhere, is so incredible, and all the details about how certain windows line up for the summer solstice, and how Machu Picchu itself is in the form of a condor and Cusco is in the form of a Puma.   The temple of the sun, the temple of the earth/Pachamama, the temple of the wind and the water. The whole thing is so striking in its layout and in its architecture;  I was thinking about the architect(s) of Machu Picchu, how their work has stood for centuries but their names will never be known.  Like the George Harrison song, “all things must pass away…” ; so very sad that this civilization had to pass away.    Apparently, Machu Picchu was abandoned before the Spanish conquistadores found it; they burned the rope bridges leading to Machu Picchu so that it would never be found.

And then the beautiful train ride back, and checking back into our nice hotel.  Just ahead of me was a handsome man around my age, shaved bald head, grey stubble beard, wearing leather riding pants.  I thought he might be a biker.  Two giant aloe vera stalks were laid on the hotel countertop.  “That is some impressive aloe vera!”  I told him.  “Well, I was on a two-day horse-riding trip and I fell off my horse in the middle of the river,” he told me.  “The inside of my legs is massively scratched up, and I am starting a long trek for a spiritual retreat, with 35 kg on my back, so I need to get this healed up as quickly as possible.”    I liked his accent.  “I live in Los Angeles, but I’m from South Africa originally,” he told me.  We started to chat, but the woman at the reception was anxious to show him his room and Declan was anxious to get to a real bed after four days on the Inca Trail.  “Nice talking to you!” he said, and I wondered where the conversation might have gone, traveling with Julie White, back in the day.