Thursday, 14 January 2010

Peru.

Constipation. Diahrea. Altitude Sickness. Long, twisy bus rides. Beauty always has a price. Since the moment I left the Lima suburbs and headed into the mountains I paid the price. But alas, it was worth it.

Villages. Bare feet. Dirty faces. Inca Ruins. Inca Masters. Macchu Picchu. Other Travelers. Tamales. The biggest ears of corn I´ve ever seen, (even coming from an Iowa girl!) The most amazing man in my life. These were some of the rewards.

Peru is a country that has surprised me in so many ways. It´s landscape is so diverse. Crowded Lima, beaches, deserts, hot, sunny Arequipa, damp, chili Cusco. Gigantic mountains. Beautiful Jungles. Warm, friendly people. It only took 7 months in America to make me feel sanitary and safe, that hot water exists all the time, everyone has enough to eat, electricity is something everyone has, clean restaurants are a must, sewage is properly disposed of, of course! I forgot that these are not basic needs, but luxuiouries. Amazing how quickly we forget.

The Andes mountains are huge! We climbed 14,000 feet and weren´t even close to the summitt. Summited a 12,000 feet mountain and there we were looking down at Macchu Picchu. The Incas are truly an amazing race of people that have existed on this earth. I cannot even begin to fathom how they constructed the most awe inspiring structures.

One day, we set out to hire a donkey to carry our things up to a high mountain village. 4 hours before this, I was running back and forth from the bed to bathroom with a terrible case of diahreha from a mysterious piece of meat I had tried. As the taxi cab dropped us off in the middle of the Sacred Valley, all we could find was to rent a 40 year old man to carry our stuff to the top. Lucky for him, we were headed to the village where his wife lives so it was an added bonus for him to carry our stuff, but still, he hiked up 30 KGS on his back and walked faster than Juan or I did , up the mountain. It was magnificent as we reach the village. Stunning mountains, rocks as big as buildings, women, dressed in traditional clothing with sticks in their hands beating the earth to sow their crops. We camped that night at the church, the most exquisite building in the village, as I woke up at 4 AM with the worst altitude sickness of my life. I didn´t think I was ever going to make it off the mountain. But several concotions of pills that I had taken made me pass out and by morning we had a whole crew of visitors curiously waiting outside of our tent.

These children were beautiful. Modest and humble. Dirt covered their faces and clothes. I was freezing in all of my fancy clothing plus hiking boots and there is a 3 year old little boy, standing in the wet grass, no shoes, a little skirt on, a warm shirt and hat with his sisters hand in his. The weather hardly affects these children. It doesn´t really matter what they wear, because what they have on is all they have. If it rains, if it snows, if it´s hot, they are dressed the same. We made breakfast. Everyone was a part of it. With our bag of oats and raisins we were able to feed ourselves, Daniel, our amazing porter, and 7 kids. As Juan blessed the food he said something very important: Please bless this food and make sure that these mouths never have to feel hunger. Make us appreciate the food we redily have and that these children may have the same.

We entered the home of Daniel. A thatched roof, made of stone and mud. No electricity. A clay stove. As we enter gramma and baby sit on the dirt floor preparing the food as the guinea pigs run around the house. They all live together. Even though, the guinea pigs will sooner or later become dinner. Maylin, Dainel´s daughter, is 9 years old. She is dressed in traditional gear and floats like a butterfly along the mountain trails. She is beautiful. She knows nothing of the luxuries we have in the States. She is simply happy eating her brother´s left ove chicken bone.

As we begin our descent back to the United States I am humbled once again. I am lucky in so many ways. The first thing I said to Juan was the only necessity I really need is a hot shower. Well, I was right on that one, but my eyes have been open to what truly is a basic need. Thanks Peru! I´ll think of you everytime I turn that hot water knob.