After the most horrendous night bus ride in over a year, we arrived in Ica at 6am. We caught a cab to Huacachina, a small oasis on the edge of the enormous sand dunes just outside of town. Huacachina seemed like the exact opposite of our bus ride; it was quiet, uncrowded, cool (in the morning), and a nice man welcomed us at the hotel. We actually got really lucky, as we found a nice room at the first hotel we looked at. A nice airy room with two walls of windows looking out at the dunes. After sleeping away our first few hours in Huacachina, we walked around the village which is not much more than a single road circling the small pond (Laguna Huacachina).

Since there’s not too much food (or anything for that matter) in Huacachina, we made a quick trip to the supermarket in Ica to stock up. We ate PB&Js by our hotel’s pool, swam a bit, and then slept more of the day away. I think we were all so tired because we had the trek, followed by a bunch of travel days, and capped off with a night bus last night.

Undoubtedly the highlight of today was taking a dune-buggy up into the sand dunes for some crazy driving and sandboarding. Joylani was feeling sick, so it was just a driver, Alex, and I. The vehicle was simple, just an engine mounted on a frame of metal pipes. Soon after hopping in, we were zooming out into the sandy wilderness. Our driver accelerated hard out into the desert and up the dunes. For the first 15 minutes or so, we just drove around the dunes, which was truly awesome. The exciting experience matched our guidebook’s description of the ride: like a roller coaster without tracks. We went straight up dunes I wouldn’t have imagined were scalable, bottomed out on the top ridges of some dunes, and came down on super steep slopes. Many times we’d go up a steep face only to turn and come down again. Our driver seemed to like pushing the limits and I’d say we spent a good amount of time beyond the 45-degree position. I would’ve been more worried, but our buggy had roll-bars in addition to a seemingly-low center of gravity. After our initial joy ride, we spent the rest of our hour driving to the tops of dunes and sandboarding down.

The sandboards were basically homemade snowboards made of plywood and nylon foot straps. Due to the considerable friction of the sand, we had to wax the boards for each run. We started off standing and riding down snowboard style, but after a few runs we decided to take more risk. We took the last few dunes laying down head-first. In addition to the dunes being bigger and steeper, laying down was a much scarier position. But it was also much more thrilling and we finished out our hour speeding face-first down dunes several-stories tall.

Following nights in and bus rides from Aguas Calientes and Cusco, we arrived in Arequipa. It’s actually our second Ciudad Blanca in the past month (see Sucre post) and nth colonial town in South America, but it is perhaps the best of both categories. Driving in by bus, Arequipa looks like any other South American metropolis, that is a smoggy sprawl buildings that hugs the topography. But arriving in the center by taxi, the downtown was actually attractive. Unlike Cusco, it was clean with wide sidewalks and wasn’t marred by unending blocks of tour agencies and tourist shops. Its called the white city because many of the buildings are constructed out of sillar, a white volcanic rock. Although the cathedrals and important buildings are well-kept and definitely white, the rest of the buildings have taken on a more grayish color. Nonetheless, the architecture is interesting, as many roofs are domed and the inside ceilings of all the buildings we visited are arched.

We only budgeted a day in Arequipa, because we’re much more fans of natural environs than cities (most of all in Latin America), but it was a pleasant day. Our hotel occupied a very old building with lots of character and a rooftop observatory offering views over the city. We visited a convent which held an eclectic museum. We had local food, but also enjoyed two meals at a local Turkish restaurant and enjoyed ice-cream in the Plaza de Armas. Perhaps most of all, it was a lazy day not spent in transit.

Our trek, like the Inca Trail itself, culminated at Machu Picchu. We left camp just as the sky began to lighten and trekked uphill for two hours. We finally crested the ridge at “The Sun Gate,” where we first laid eyes on Machu Picchu. To be honest, I was a bit disappointed at first sight. It was just a little town of ruins in a spectacular setting. As we hiked down towards it however, it became more impressive. Its scale was much larger than I imagined or first saw. It buildings, ramparts, and walls were massive and extraordinary. My initial disappointment had been replaced by awe.

terraces on which buildings were going to be built

temple

houses

Yet, I still feel that the valley surrounding Machu Picchu was the most inspiring sight. Having seen the ubiquitous Machu Picchu postcards for the past two weeks, I was prepared for how the ruins would look. But I was not prepared for the surrounding scenery. MP sits atop a ridge that drops straight down 800 meters to the Urubamba River, while mountains rise from the river to surround MP in every direction.

looking into the valley

We did get a tour of the ruins, but the details were not so interesting after hearing about the Incas for 3 days already. After the tour, we were free to explore the ruins a bit more. Some people milled around, but Alex and I, along with a few others from our group, decided to scale Wayna Picchu. Wayna Picchu is the peak that towers above the MP ruins in most photos. There is another temple at the top, which sits 360 meters above Machu Picchu. It is a steep and dangerous climb, but I figured I might as well go all out since I spent a ton of money and three days walking here. It was a steep climb up and kinda sketchy at some points, but it was short and well worth the effort. From the top, we had awesome views of the valley and the ruins. A great way to end our trek and exploration of Machu Picchu.

ruins on Wayna Picchu

MP (on the left) and Urubamba valley

Alex and I atop of Wayna Picchu

Alex, Joylani, and I at Machu Picchu

Day Three of the Inca Trail consisted of alternating climbs and descents, stopping every now and then at some Inca sites. The first hour was all up, as we climbed back up to 4000 meters. After that, it was all downhill. Luckily, today also had the most ruins to stop at, rest, and take our minds off our knees. Speaking of Inca ruins, we’ve actually seen a lot so far, although I haven’t written much or posted many photos. My reasons are simple. One, not much is known about the Inca’s as they had no written language and the Spanish destroyed what information there was. Two, our guide Ruben is entertaining, but doesn’t seem the most informed on what is known. Three, most of the ruins are not that impressive- just old stone walls. However, their locations are unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable. Everything from storehouses to citadels to schools built upon cliffs and into mountainsides. Hopefully, some of these photos can convey a fraction of the phenomenal scenery.

not a bad view to wake up to

looking back from the pass summit

resting at the pass, above the clouds

Here’s some examples of the Inca ruins we saw and their spectacular locations:

storehouse on cliff overlooking valley

observatory

inside the observatory

Here’s some photos of the Inca Trail itself:

Today was the most difficult day of the trek, as we had to first ascend 1200 meters and then straight down 600 meters. Not only was it steep, but we did it at altitude, from 3000 meters to 4200 and then down to 3600 meters. Today I was definitely thankful that Joylani and I have been between 3500-4000 meters for the past month, because I didn’t experience any altitude problems. It was still a steep climb, but at least I didn’t have breathing or headache problems. The climb took us through diverse microclimates, as we went from tropical jungle to high-altitude puna. As we traversed the high grasslands, it became discouraging to look up and see the ladder-like trail rise ever higher. On the other hand, it was somewhat satisfying to look back every now and then and admire how far we’d come. I climbed mostly alone, because its difficult to do such hikes at anyones’ pace besides your own. I passed a few hikers and had a lot of porters pass me- those guys are amazing, just like their Nepalese counterparts we walked with a year ago. Most of the morning, the mountains were obscured on and off by mist rolling through the valley.

fog obscures Dead Woman’s Pass ahead

looking back down into the valley

Once out of the jungle microclimate, it began to drizzle which grew to a steady downpour by the time I’d reached Dead Woman’s Pass. At 4200 meters, a steady rain will cool you down pretty quickly. I was getting colder and I wanted to head down with the other quick walkers in our group, but I’d told Joylani and Alex that I’d wait for them at the top. Joylani made it up not too long after me and we celebrated our day’s accomplishment.

Joylani quickly became cold as well and decided to head down. So I stood up there alone until I finally spotted Alex slowing climbing the steps. A couple other people in our group told me he was having altitude problems and it looked like it as I watched him struggle upwards. A few steps, rest. A few more steps, rest. I began to wonder if either of us would be alive for our meeting at the summit- he may exhaust himself and I may freeze to death.

searching for Alex coming up through the fog

He did finally make it and the first words out of his mouth were, “You waited up here for me? Watching me hike up must’ve been like watching grass grow.” He had a terrible headache and said it was tough to breathe coming up.

We took a couple photos and I let him “enjoy his moment” as he put it, before we began to head down. I thought the down was tougher than the up. No goal to work towards, just down the wet and slippery stones.

The steps were big and streams ran over the trail at many points, so it was slow going down. But I didn’t mind taking in the scenery when the clouds allowed it. Plus, I was tired, cold, and my knees began to hurt- we walked down stairs for 2 hours. We caught Joylani and her bum knee on the backside of the pass and the three of us walked into camp together, wet and tired but feeling accomplished.

After just one day on the Inca Trail, my expectations have already been exceeded. The drive from Cusco to the Sacred Valley was absolutely spectacular. The snow-capped cordillera and the steep verdant mountains were beautiful. The steep valleys reminded me of some of the most beautiful places I’ve seen on this trip: Nepal and Indonesia, not to mention Hawaii where we’ll be in a month’s time. We followed the Urubamba for the entire day, which our guide says is a tributary of the Amazon. The walking was pretty easy, with just a few short steep uphill sections. We did however stop frequently for long rests and little bit of commentary. I’d say we only walked about half of the time between when we started and when we finished. I guess some people needed the slow pace and at least everywhere we stopped was invariably scenic. As I did with some of our other hiking posts, I’ll try to be light on writing and heavy on photos, because trekking is a scenic pursuit but not a very interesting one to describe (or perhaps my writings not that good yet). So I hope you enjoy some of these photos.

drive to trailhead

beginning of the hike

looking back, notice the line of hikers struggling up

looking down into the valley at some old Inca ruins

Inca ruins near camp, view looking back at where we came from today

I haven’t written in a week, but that’s not because nothing’s been happening. True, we haven’t really done anything in Cusco, per se, but we have been busy. Christmas Eve was spent perusing Cusco’s Annual Crafts Fair and then going to Christmas Eve Mass with a Peruvian dentist we met at our hostel. On Christmas, Joylani relapsed and we spent the night at the hospital where Joylani had an IV replenish her fluids all night. We took it easy on the 26^th and then picked my little brother Alex up from the airport on the morning of the 27^th. The last four days have been just catching up with him, showing him around town, hiking the surrounding area, preparing for our upcoming trek, and trying not to get sick…again. Tomorrow, we embark on a 4-day trek along the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu.

hiking up to the ruins at Sacsaywaman

Plaza de Armas

Yesterday, Christmas, I started to feel pretty sick again and eventually threw up. I continued to feel extremely weak and nauseous. Figuring it was a continuation of whatever Matt and I have two nights before (thankfully he was feeling much better than me this time around), we packed a bag with water, snacks, and my toothbrush and headed to the Clinica Pardo. Originally we were just going to go to the public hospital; in our guidebook it sounded fine, but a staff at our hostal told us that we may have to wait a long time for treatment. Perhaps the public hospital would have been just fine, but when we arrived at the private clinic I was glad we had opted for private over public, considering that even here there was no seat on the toilet.

It was late on Christmas afternoon, and the bottom floor was virtually empty. After registering with my passport, I was ushered back to a doctor’s office who did the usual poking and questioning before sending me off for both blood and stool tests. The blood test was easy, but not having eaten too much that day (and some of it already having come out the top end), plus the lack of toilet seat, I just couldn’t make the second sample happen. And what was that popsicle stick they gave me for anyway? After my leg fell asleep, I went back to the lab and told him, “No puedo.” He shrugged and told me to go back and see the doctor. She wasn’t in her office, but had already told me I would need to stay for to receive an IV, however, that there was no space for me at the inn, so I would have to go to the sister clinic. The guy who had been taking me back and forth already, apparently a plain clothes ambulance driver, found me in the hall by the giant nativity scene (one of several). He waved Matt over and took us outside to the back lot. We got in one of the smaller “ambulances,” basically a large windowless van with a stretcher bed, oxygen tank, and one seat in the back (I got the little seat while Matt sat up front), and we drove a few minutes to the other clinic.

The second clinic, Clinica San Jose, was much nicer than the first. From the sliding glass doors at the entry to the polished reception counter, it was very modern and sleek looking. We headed up to the 6^th floor where we were shown to our room. The IV would take more than a few hours, and we would have to spend the night.  Our room was really amazing. There was a sitting area, connected to the bedroom by a wide, closeted hallway. The room was huge. It had a hospital bed and a regular bed, with room for a third. The bathroom was also huge and even had a large tub with jets. If I wasn’t hooked up to an IV all night, perhaps we would have filled up the tub, invited a few random tourists over, donned suits and had a Christmas pool-party, all the while enjoying the view from my very large 6^th floor window.

But it wasn’t MTV cribs and I was still feeling pretty weak. Having an IV for the first time felt really strange, and my arm got icy cold from all the fluid going in. Matt pulled in one of the chairs from the lounge and sat next to me as I lay in bed. We watched the marathon of year-end news recaps on both CNN and BBC as nurses and doctors periodically came in. When morning came I was feeling much better than the day before, and we anxiously awaited to be released. A team of doctors came in (no, not necessary in my opinion, and yes, it did make me feel like a patient on a tv show) to deliver the prognosis, which was inconclusive. They sent me off with a parting gift of Cipro and a few other goodies. Hopefully this will be the last time I get super sick on this trip, but somehow I doubt it will be. C’est la vie.

A live nativity in a large replica of a clay pot.  The church we visited in in the background.

The annual crafts fair was today.  Nativity scene accessories proved to be the most popular item.
It all started when Matt offered some beer to the dentist. Still skeptical of eating out, I cooked us pasta for dinner, which we ate at our hotel. Another guest, Gerardo (whom I mistakenly called Geraldo…), was also upstairs, enjoying a cup of tea. The bottle of beer was quite large, and feeling friendly, Matt offered some to our fellow guest. We got to talking, mostly in English, but using some Spanish when words were hard to find. Gerardo is a dentist. He is originally from Lima, but now lives in a rural part of Peru. It was to far to go all the way to Lima, so he came to Cusco for the holiday instead.  Many of his patients are miners. Sometimes they pay him in gold. He does a lot of gold teeth for people too. That is the stylish thing to do.

It came about that Gerardo was going to mass later. Other than the inside of a few churches and a sopash festival (which I guess isn’t exactly Catholic, just Portuguese), I have never been to anything Catholic. Part of that is just circumstantial, I’ve never really had an opportunity to go, but then again, I have never sought one out either. Various people have told me masses and other ceremonies are long, ritual, and boring. But I wanted to see for myself—at least see what it is like in Peru, in Cusco. So Matt and I put on our best available clean clothes, which wasn’t much, and we met our new friend downstairs.

We walked down the hill to the main square. The nativity suppliers were packing up their goods, dozens of people were walking around carrying Jesus dolls dressed in white satin and gold (they take them to be blessed at one of the many churches), and there was an overall sense of festivity and expectant excitement in the air. We came to the big wooden church doors, and walked inside, past the partition used to shield the view from curious tourists. In front of me, at the end of the room, was the main alter. It stood about three stories high and was covered in gold. It glowed.

I wish I had a picture of how it looked tonight, but it’s not something that would really work in even the best photo because you wouldn’t be able to see the movement of light across the gold. The three of us found seats halfway back and waited for the misa to begin. There was a lot of ritual, some of it was boring, it wasn’t as long as I thought, but it was also wonderful. From what I could gather from the sermon, which was in Spanish, one of the priest’s main points was that we can celebrate because Jesus was born. This is a message I have heard many times growing up in church, but somehow it took on a more understandable meaning in the very stunning and ornate room in which I sat. The way that cathedral glowed in the soft light was one of the most amazing things to see. I mean, have you ever seen a 3-story wall covered completely in gold relifs? It was special. It was like a wedding. People go all out for weddings. They are special. A wedding is a celebration. A party. A new step. And it’s happy. So thinking about Christmas this way, in a room that glowed gold, offered an old perspective, but new to me.

Traveling does that in general, offers new perspectives that is. But only new to the traveler—you, the one experiencing a very small taste of the way others have been living and experiencing things for a long time.

It’s a bit ironic that I commented on the good food here in my last post and I was in the bathroom every half-hour last night sitting on the toilet or puking in it. It was the worst food-poisoning I’ve ever had and I’d have to say the sickest I’ve ever been as well. Joylani rotated between the bed and bathroom with me too. Let me add, “Are you done yet?” is not something you want to hear while you are puking. The frustrating thing is that we’ve been eating at really nice restaurants, since food at the lower end places is pretty bad here in Latin America.

So after sleeping only a couple hours last night and expelling I don’t know how many gallons of fluids, we were zombies today. We slept on and off and tried to drink our rehydrating-salted-water. The extend of our exercise was walking to a pharmacy downtown, although the uphill trek back to our hotel was pretty tough given that the last meal I digested was two nights ago. We’ve both felt weak all day, although I’m kind of surprised we’re not worse off considering we’ve only had water and crackers all day. But Joylani pointed out that we haven’t done anything either. Sickness has kind of been a constant companion on this trip (although more frequent in some countries than others), but last night was the worst.