Oh Dear Madre de Dios

Thursday, December 18th

Welcome to the Jungle

We take it day by day

Caimans, otters, and a baby monkey!

For a very small price to pay

In the jungle, welcome to the jungle

Oh the humidity, ty, tyyy, tyyyyyy

Mosquito bites make me bleeeeeed

Planes, Trains, and Automobiles

In case the intro song didn't give it away, John Alex and I made it to the Amazon! But at risk of getting ahead of ourselves/devolving to singing the entire post in Gun n' Roses lyrics, flashback instead to yesterday morning, where our heroes awaken at zero dark thirty, and desperately sprint to catch the train to catch the taxi to catch the plane.

Four modes of transportation in four hours. Challenge accepted. 

Being the expert, seasoned travelers that we are, JA and I packed the night before, left our hostel in plenty of time, looked up the exact location of the train station, and proceeded calmly and pleasantly to the departure location for smooth, carefree day of travel. We definitely did not oversleep slightly, underestimate our packing time, desperately book our next night's hostel while sprinting out into the early morning streets, barking at each other sharply when we realized the train station was *not* where we initially thought, before stumbling across it in the nick of time, catching our train minutes before departure, and glaring at each other in the process.

Whew, glad that didn't happen.

(You would've thought the train tracks running directly in front of our hostel would've been a dead giveaway.)

Luckily, the train was on time, our taxi driver prompt, and the airport security line only one person long. This was going swimmingly.

Cuzco Airport

To the surprise of perhaps no one, Cuzco's airport is really small. That being said, it is still incredibly disconcerting to check in at an empty airline booth, while every other represented airline's check in line extends at least thirty people deep. It's even more disconcerting to wander around the terminal ten minutes before boarding and not only not see your flight listed anywhere, but not see a single other flight by your airline.

Hmm.

However, at this point, I'm hesitant to ask security. I was already sweating bullets coming through security the first time, as I was attempting to sneak onboard a second carry-on *shhh*, but when I was pulled aside, all the gruff Peruvian kept saying was "tenedor. TENEDOR."

Uh, fork?

(I believe the term you're looking for is "dinglehopper")

Turns out he *was* worried I was trying to smuggle onboard a fork. And a quick glance toward the central bin of confiscated contraband revealed this was not an uncommon occurrence. However, joke's on him!

(Tenedor *this*)

And no, I have no idea why I have a spoon in my pocket.

Avianca: the Alleged Airline of Death

Our boarding time comes and goes, and like the blond cheerleader in a B horror movie, we belatedly start to realize we should probably be worried. However, luck, and our natural homing ability to seek out other vaguely disconcerted passengers, directs us to this shady side door with a hastily placed, hand posted sign displaying a single word: 'Avianca'

Now, it wasn't all creepy. Smiling stewardesses take our tickets and wish us a pleasant flight. Then they proceed to usher us through the creepy unmarked double doors, asking us to "espera por favor" until we're all on the other side. My emotions are conflicted. On one hand, I'm ecstatic. I managed to sneak on an extra carry on! On the other hand, this process eerily remind me of gas chambers and cattle cars. This, evidently, is what happens to your world view when you live in the same city as the world's most depressing museum.

(Spoiler alert: everyone dies.)

If you laughed at that, shame on you.

Good news though, John Alex and I don't die on this flight, though there were a few times over the course  where that premise potentially needed to be reevaluated. Namely, take off, landing, and every time in between, as the pilot did his utmost to showcase his Denzel Washington impression.

(Or he was skywriting, in which case I withdraw my complaints.)

Puerto Maldonado

One shaky plane landing later, JA and I touch down in Puerto Maldonado, a river city located in the best named region we've encountered so far: Madre de Dios.

(If I lived here, I would answer every form's locational inquiry with this meme.)

Puerto Maldonado is essentially a river city located in the Amazon basin where the rivers from Cuzco and Puno collide. In short, this part of the trip was planned solely to briefly live out my favorite childhood computer game: Amazon Trail.

(I was also an expert at spearfishing logs.)

The climate couldn't be more different than Cuzco. I immediately cast aside my beloved llama sweater, donning the more climate friendly tanks and flip flops and give the mandatory blood offering to the local mosquito gods. But to be honest, I love it. I love the heat and humidity, the spontaneous rain storms, and the mutual feeling of climate-induced despair as you lock eyes with similarly sweating strangers, too tired to do more than nod.

And speaking of strangers, people definitely stare more at foreigners here. Though, after catching a glance at myself in a passing window, I too was shocked and blinded by my glaring lily-whiteness. Forever a gringa.

Anyways, I leave us here, if only to save room for our Amazon adventure tomorrow. A teaser: