The Southern Migration
The flight down to Lima: flawless. Awesome seat, free food, and even though they tried to gate-check my carryon, using my natural stealth ability and strategically timing my boarding trajectory to conveniently coincide behind a fortunately weight-challenged woman, I manage to retain possession throughout the entire journey. They can take our lives, but they can never take my carryon!
Two main points about Lima's airport: 1. Customs was two stamps and an immigration officer who thought I was 14 and told me repeatedly "no te preocupes." Thank you, kind sir, I won't. 2. Lima's airport is an overnight campers' paradise, luxuriously investing in benches where the arm rests exist only every third seat. There were literally hundreds of us sleeping in this airport doing out best to imitate a pod of beached whales. It's 2am, my next flight to Cuzco leaves in four hours, and I am eternally grateful to American Airlines for unknowingly letting me temporarily commandeer their complementary fleece blanket. CLUTCH.
I awaken three hours later with a loving kick to the leg and the chipper face of my very alive, coffee- and chocolate muffin-bearing brother. Success! We hop aboard a regional jet and head to Cuzco, flying literally between the mountains:
Beautiful, serene, majestic Mother Nature, and of course the whole time, all I could think of was this Far Side cartoon:
Cuzco's Calling
At 7:30am, we arrive in a city almost certainly named after a beloved cartoon llama, and immediate don our anti-solicitor blinders, expertly powering through the "Taxi señorita? Cheap!" hoards with the rejection efficiency of a government agency reviewing reimbursement claims. We're on our way, on foot trekking into our mountain city - let the adventure begin!
Fast forward ten minutes. With the dawning realization rivaling the final scene of The Graduate, we slowly realize we're in an unknown city, with no map, no phone, no internet, no contacts, no planned place the stay that evening, and really no effin' clue where we're going. But we're moving! As the Life of Brian says, always look on the bright side of life!
Using our innate survival instincts and our uncanny ability to comprehend complex cognates on road signs like 'Centro Historico' we make it to the city center. Take that, altitude. You ain't got nothin' on us gringos. We successfully secure an awesome hostel: $8/night for a bed in a 400 year old colonial mansion, yes please.
It's 8am, an hour I usually don't see voluntarily. I've slept in 45 min increments the last few days and surviving off of conveniently stashed airplane snacks. I love it. We set out to explore because again, eff you, altitude. "Taking it easy..." Yeah okay.
The Highlights:
Observation 1: Peruvians are incredibly nice and tolerant of my 5-year out of practice Spanish.
Wandering streets that surprisingly remind me of Florence, we stumble across a military parade in front of the town cathedral.
I have no idea what the ceremony was for, but immediately fell in love when I saw a young soldier goosestep into his companion and let out a soft expletive. Aww you guys are adorable. Uh I mean, fierce. Manly. Strong.
Hawkers were also the most laid back non confrontational hawkers ever. And if you paused for 2 sec, they cut their already low prices immediately, no haggling necessarily. Plus the locals are friendly, smile a lot and tolerate broken Spanish with patience and a smile despite many being fluent in English.
Also, our breakfast view:
(Naturally, as the photographer, I focus on the coffee and not gorgeous mountain views surrounding the square.
Observation 2: The Andes are mountains.
No duh, Ellen, you say. What gave it away?
This did:
Don't let the photo (or endearingly but poorly placed thumb) fool you. This, I assure you, is in fact a 90 degree grade wall masquerading as a road. The woman you see in the picture is strapped into rock climbing gear that my camera conveniently wasn't able to capture. They said we would be short of breath because of the altitude. Lies. You're short of breath because you're climbing up freakin mountains everywhere. In every direction. Both ways. Being outstripped by toddlers. Stupid kids.
Observation 3: The Coca plant is holy.
Cuzco is home to the world's first and only museum (read: shrine) to the coca plant. Which we of course visited first day.
It had every thing. The Koka goddess that drove men insane with desire, causing them to chew coca leaves to curb their uh...affection?:
A homage to famous overdosers:
And even a dead body around the last bend:
The only thing missing was step by step instructions to make your own cocaine.
Oh wait.
All in all though, fascinating place. We head off to the Sacred Valley tomorrow! I leave with this parting photo:
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