For one thing, I like to occasionally be pushed out of my comfort zone. I like to see things from a different perspective. I like to meet good people, I like to wander around a city but have access to nature, and I like good food. Since I decided to go big or don't go at all, I realized that I needed something to do while I was there, so I wouldn't just wander and indulge the entire time. I also feel it is necessary to have access to a community if you are going to be somewhere for longer than a week or two. I decided to volunteer with this program that my roommate had told me about. Knowing she had done the program, met the director, stayed in the house I would be staying in calmed the neurotic in me... somewhat.
I arrived in Cuzco on July 18. It was a seamless journey. The minute I got outside, there was a woman waiting for me. When we got to my "home," we had to get out of the taxi and walk a little bit because the street was being worked on; exposed water pipes, piles of rubble, ditches, planks for people to cross from one side of the street to the other. I walked into the house and nobody spoke English. And guess who speaks barely any Spanish... this girl! I mean, I could pass a middle school Spanish exam, probably, but conversationally, I'm no good after 'que haces esta noche' or 'tengo frio'. Luckily, there was a family staying at the house who spoke excellent English and then came to meet other volunteers living next door who also spoke English.
Volunteering was really cool. We worked with groups of kids who were affectionate and sweet... and funny. The first week that I was there, we planned a parade that went through the streets of Cuzco and ended at Plaza de Armas. There, each family (grouped by age) put on a play we had been working on all week. Really cool. Everyone was super dressed up and excited and had stickers and make up on their faces and wearing crazy hats and costumes. The kids had an awesome time. So did the adults.
Every Friday was a buffet at the restaurant that is part of the social project and often, dinner would end and dancing would begin. Everyone stayed out super late; Cuzco is a late night city... Every Tuesday was Trivia Night. And weekends were whatever I wanted. One weekend, I planned a trip to Lake Titicaca, another I went on a motor bike trip to the salt mines, and the last weekend, I went to Machu Picchu.
The motor bike trip was my first time out of the city of Cuzco and also my first time meeting some of the other volunteers. There were people from all over the world on this trip: Germany, Israel, England, The US, Argentina, Peru, Spain... so many different people from so many different places all in that little city for pretty much the same reason. We stopped in this little town called Pisac, which was beautiful and since it was Sunday, there was a market happening. We had lunch at this restaurant and then we saw the salt mines It looked like another world. We rode back late at night and it was frrrrreeeeeezing cold; it's funny how in places like that, it is warm during the day, hot in the sun, and freezing at night.
The next trip I went on was to the islands in Lake Titicaca. I had to take a bus at night to Puno. The bus was super comfortable with seats that went all the way back. When I arrived in Puno, I was anything but comfortable. I got out of the bus at 4:30 in the morning to a crazy South American bus station with the realization that I had no clue what was supposed to happen next. I wandered around, half asleep, looking for a sign... not a sign from the heavens but a sign with my name on it. I didn't find it. I searched desperately through any receipts that I had saved but nothing. About an hour went by before I finally found someone willing to listen to my situation. I was told that someone was there calling my name but nobody could find me. I sat and waited and finally an hour later, a man came to pick me up. He brought me to a hostel with no sign. He slid open a door and let me into a room with 10 beds and not a soul in sight. I went to the bathroom... no light and a hole in the ceiling where I could see the toilet up above... ah, Casa Ubamba, you classy joint, you. I tried to sleep but the room stunk of smoke and, what I believe to be, some odd history.
There's nothing quite like that feeling of being alone in a weird situation like that. It feels so funny (both funny-weird and funny-haha). After pretending to myself that I was sleeping for about 40 minutes, I decided to get up and get dressed and go find this breakfast I had heard so much about. I went outside and looked around and saw an open door with what looked like a coffee pot on the table. I walked to the door and said, "hola! desayuno?" I quickly scanned the room and see that it's one of those rooms where the person does all their living: An unmade bed. A small stove. A kitchen table. A box with a dog nursing some puppies. The woman screams something and the man who picked me up ran up the stairs in a flash... I was in the wrong place. Imagine you are in your home having your morning coffee and some random person came to your door and said, "HI! Breakfast?!" That's basically what happened. Where Clever (the guy) brought me next was like a step up from that first scene... but only one step. It was what looked like the skeletal remains of a once living business. Table set for breakfast but no one there (but me), a bar that had been emptied out of everything except some garbage, a couple of dusty signs that said TRAVEL AGENCY here and there, an old, wrinkled map of Puno and Lake Titicaca. I sat and ate my eggs and bread, wondering still, if I was in the right place being that he spoke no English and, I 'll say it again, I speak very little Spanish. Conversation typically went something like this:
Me (in my broken-ass Spanish)- "so, we will wait at this hostel and you will bring me to the boat?"
Clever (in broken-ass English)- "yes, this is Puno."
Finally, a van came to pick me up and the one other person who happened to be staying at the hostel emerged from what looked like an underground chamber. We were brought to a boat on the lake and rode for not very long before we stopped at Uros, one of the floating islands made entirely of reeds. The cool thing about this island is that it is so clean smelling! I met the Presidente. He was the man. He showed us how they constructed and maintained the islands and these women came out and they chewed on some reeds while people took pictures. This island was all about tourism. That whole "take a picture of me while I eat this reed" thing freaked me out a little, but I appreciated the gesture. I didn't get a picture of that but I did snap a photo of a cute rabbit behind one of the reed huts... and the Presidente.
We stopped at the next floating island and could you believe they had a little cafe? I got a cup of coffee and felt like the earth started spinning again. Ok, lake, let's do this. We rode on the boat for more than three hours before we docked at an island called Amantini, where families were waiting to take us to our rooms and feed us. The German guy who was at Hostel Ubamba suggested we stay together with the two other people traveling alone. We had to walk a little distance to get to the house and when we did, the view was gorgeous. Women herding sheep, chickens strutting about the yard, children running here and there, and a crystal blue sky sitting above a crystal blue lake. These people live here? This is paradise.
Lunch was quinoa soup, fried cheese and potatoes, with muna tea. After lunch, we hiked up a mountain to watch the sun set. A gorgeous walk, a gorgeous sit, a gorgeous sunset (see above). We walked home, had dinner and then got ready to go to this fiesta they had for the tourists. It was at the school and they dressed us up in traditional clothes. The fiesta was funny... a bit like a high school dance. The next day, after breakfast, we got on the boat and stopped at one final island called Taquile, which was similar to Amantini in many ways. Again, gorgeous, no cars, no telephone wires obstructing your view, nothing but a stone path, green grass, blue sky, and people dressed very traditionally. We had lunch on the island, walked around a bit and then headed back to the boat. Once back in Puno, I had coca tea on a balcony and then met up with this guy Dave who was in town for the night. Before I knew it, I was on the bus back to Cuzco.
My last weekend there, I took a bus to a train to a town called Aguascalientes. Aguascalientes is beautiful, but it is a big-time tourist trap. It is tiny and there is not much to do other than walk around and eat and stuff... and the food is really really expensive and not good at all. So, filling my time there was tough. I found a karaoke bar and went in and sang a few songs. I was the only one in there. And it felt really creepy. And I can never un-remember that night, like unless I get amnesia or something. But that's it. That's the memory! Anyway, I woke up super-early and went to Machu Piccchu and that.... there are no words. I will just say that when I rounded the corner and saw the view, I started to cry. Pictures cannot prepare you or do it a fraction of the justice that Machu Picchu deserves. I found a spot overlooking the rolling giant mountains and I sat for a long time and just stared. Unreal. I ended up going on a tour for a few hours, ate some lunch and then I went back to that spot. It looked different with the sun totally out. Then it started to rain, so I went back to Tourist Town. Machu Picchu taught me that the more amazing a thing is, the less there is to say about it.
My last week in Cuzco, I met with a Shaman and his wife out in Qoya and got reiki. I also met with a Vietnamese sound healer/ mystic who I loved. I bought souvenirs, ate delicious foods, hung out one last night with some new friends, drank coffee and read at my favorite panaderia, and said goodbye to my five week life in Peru.
There was adventure in traveling and there was also adventure in doing nothing. I wrote a lot, read a lot, walked a lot, absorbed a lot, talked a lot, and listened a lot. My trip was super important to my learning a thing or two about a thing or two... one of the most important things I learned is to do what I do, don't do what I don't do, and don't regret any of it. Everything I do in the style that I do it in is to be respected because it is the way it is for a reason. No regrets. So, no regrets. My friend told me that my last night there. And he is right.
