peru-ed out.

i'm so sick of telling people about peru. i've been back for nearly a month, and still i am forced to reiterate the entire solemn story at least once each day. the man died. i saw death. i saw his wretched, twisted body, and i don't think i'll ever loose this grotesque mental image. sometimes, i see it in dreams. or i dream about that horrible swing contraption and the river. it's not a big deal, though. at least i'm not afraid of heights. we got new guides as a result of his death...and the drama continued.

we walked three hours on train tracks from the hydro plant near santa theresa to aguas calientes, since the only alternate route is by train. it was hot. we had to walk On the tracks, themselves, because the ground was covered in large rocks that made it more difficult on the legs than the wooden planks they called tracks. the train tracks were very uneven and sporadic. they were not evenly distributed; ie, two tracks were two inches apart, and the next two were five inches apart. it was like this the entire way. i felt mostly numb during that "walk". i mean, i had just watched a man fall to his death less than 24 hours prior. in addition, i couldn't stand my boyfriend. if i could offer a little advice to anyone, please do not travel with an individual with whom you are always fighting. this will ruin your trip. it got bad at the end. this scenario i will relate in due sequence.

we spent a night in aguas calientes. the place was a tourist trap. but, they did have 4 for 1 drinks in many of the bars. that's right, FOUR for ONE! of course, the drinks are tiny. my capirinas tasted more like sugary lime soda and didn't even give me a buzz. there is a neat little market up near the train tracks. i bartered a LOT. when bargaining in south america, you can usually tell within the first thirty seconds whether or not the vendor will lower their price. telltale sign: they don't chase after you when you start to walk away, saying the item is much too much money. most people, women especially, will immediately lower their price as you walk off. for example, i really wanted a pair of blue hippie pants for under 20 soles (which in american money is about $7--i was just being cheap). i went to several places on my quest. one woman told me 25, another 20, another 15. the first would not go lower than 20. now, keep in mind, this is in a market where the vendors are very close together and relatively in sight off one another and of each tourist. so the lady across will run up to you shouting a lower price than the one with whom you are engaged in conversation. i say lady because the men don't do as much active bargaining. they will certainly lower their prices, but they do not pursue you and try to convince you to purchase their commodity. anyway, i ended up getting my pants for 10 soles, or about $3.50.

another trick is to tell the vendor that you saw an item for much cheaper at another nearby stand. in my own battered spanish, i would say, "no, es mas caro aqui! es mas barrato en l'otro tienda!" often, this will prompt them to lower their asking price, as the fear another vendor will steal their sale. this is probably my favorite trick. :)

another way to lower prices is to shop in the bulk. if you by several items in one place, you are more likely to receive a discount. a classic example involved my ex-boyfriend and his poor spanish. the woman tried to charge him 25 soles for one t-shirt because it was an extra-large. he was willing to shell out the cash because he really liked it. i stepped up and got her to lower it to 22 soles. then i came up with a better idea. two t-shirts for 25, i demanded. sold. that's how i cut the price in half. and it doesn't hurt to be comfortable with your spanish.

i totally went off on a tangent here and forgot about macchu pichu. i'll do that later. for now, i must go surfing for airplane tickets. i think im going over to europe this december. probably taiwan or at least somewhere in asia during the summer. maybe by then i'll be able to blog in a more organized matter.

the man and the mountain.

so...we came to a point where we needed to cross a wide river. the only mechanism in sight was a small wooden seat looped between ropes that were strung across this river. the distance across was certainly over 500 feet, and we were freakishly high above the body of water. so, the guide summoned myself and the other two females who were in the group and told us to go first. we cramped into the seat and held onto each other tightly. the men pushed us off, and we rushed across the river. we laughed...at first. until the swing started going backwards. i thought we might fall to our death at this point. we giggled nervously as the man on the other side fussed with the ropes and tried to pull us over. within seconds, we were on solid ground and more than happy to be so.

the rope was then thrust back across, and the seat was occupied with our guide, my ex-boyfriend and a german. the group also experienced the backtracking of the swing. the were quickly over the lake and safely on the ground as well. the guide then prepared to help the operator send the seat back across the river for the next group. seconds later, we heard something drop through the brush. it sounded like a backpack or a water bottle. "what was that," someone asked. "omg, THE GUIDE FELL!"

there were thirty seconds of confusion and chaos. WHAT? HOW? the english girl said she saw that the rope had caught him around the belly and pulled him back over the cliff. he had tried to hold on, but he failed mortally. where do we go? what do we do? we have to go after him!, we all agreed. how to get down to the river was the next dilemma. we were high up, and there was no short or direct way down. we took off after the trail and zig-zagged our way down to the rocks on the shore. we dropped our bags--passports and all--and began running over the rocks in search of the man. amie and i saw blood splashed across some rocks. my stomach was in my mouth. i had no idea what to think. we knew not what we would find.

tom and lisa got there first. they pulled his stiff body from the water and coerced him to breathe. amie and i were only seconds behind. not long after, he exhaled and we exhaled with him. but he did not speak. his breathes were shallow and forced. his body was twisted and mangled. blood and brains oozed from his head. his spine was morphed. but he was breathing!

dozens of people soon came scurrying across the rocks to the scene. we had no idea where they came from. they told us it would take thirty to sixty minutes for a doctor to arrive. local began breaking tree branches in an effort to fabricate a stretcher to carry him from the rocks. this was inefficient and they gave up. a woman from another tour group, who claimed to be a doctor, soon came rushing over. she panicked as the man refused to respond to her shouts and pinches. this was serious.

the other members of our group soon appeared on the shore. how did they cross? a BRIDGE! why hadn't we taken the bridge in the first place! but there was no time to speculate: a man way dying here. several police officers were now making their way over. many of the spectators now began to stagger off. tom relinquished the man, who's head he had been holding out of the water, to the authorities and headed back. he yelled at me to do the same.

next, there was a search for a flashlight, so that they might shine it in his eyes. but no one had one. a group of men then hoisted the man up in a sheet and began carrying him towards the mountain. blood poured from his head and his body bopped along with no support. he was to be taken to cusco for brain surgery, the doctor woman told us. he had spinal injuries, internal bleeding, and his brain was hemorrhaging. cusco was six hours away.

within the next hour, our group was informed of the death of our guide. we thus became a mosaic of sadness, sorrow, exasperation, exhaustion and fear.

continuing my story.

so, i ended up having to ride downhill through dust and rocks for nearly FOUR HOURS. my ass hurt, my hands hurt and my arms hurt. i wasn't to cry. i almost did. each time a car drove by, i was surrounded by a cloud of dust and couldn't see in any direction. it was even worse when two cars went in opposing directions at the same time. i was nearly knocked off of the road! and my contacts were caked in dirt, making my eyes hurt. the vegetation was covered in dust. it sucked.

eventually there were uphill bits to this journey. i threw my bike and screamed. each time i stopped, i became quickly covered in a thick layer of sand flies. the bitches bit holes into my skin and sucked my blood. so my arms and legs were dirty AND bloody. bullshit. i didn't think i was ever going to make it. i couldn't wait to reach the alleged town of santa maria, where we were told we could SLEEP.

after hours of riding and stopping and eventually walking, we finally made it to santa maria. we placed our dinner orders at a small restaurant and headed up to our hostel to clean up. the showers were freezing and i didn't have any soap. i used shampoo as soap, and a small hand towel to dry off. it was terrible.

i shared a room with three girls, and was very thankful to have a night away from my boyfriend, who had been driving me crazy. we had a bland dinner and fell asleep before 9pm. this was much deserved sleep, and we had to wake up at 7am the next morning to commence our all-day hike.

after a breakfast of omelets and bread, we started off on our hike. the coco tea, which is nothing like cocaine, was certainly no substitute for coffee. how i missed my coffee. we were tired and dragging. and i was fighting with my boyfriend.

the first segment was easy. it was flat and straightforward. we walked along a wide dirt road in small groups. i walked for about an hour with a german girl and an english girl. good conversation made time go by faster.

after about an hour, the guides stopped and told us we were about to embark on an official tier of the INCAN TRAIL or camino del inca. the next thing we knew, we were hiking through bushes, uphill, on a small, narrow, steep trail. this was even harder than the biking of the previous day.

i was pouring sweat and covered in dirt in a matter of minutes. i am in great shape, but i was having severe difficulty breathing and had to stop constantly. i believe this is due to an unfortunate condition i have: mitral-valve prolapse. yuck. but the mind is stronger than the body and i wanted nothing more than to complete my journey, so i ultimately prevailed.

we had several group rests throughout the morning. the first was a little stop where two young girls were selling overpriced liquids with their pet monkey tied to a tree. there was also a little tienda/shop with a woman selling freshly squeezed juices and candies and drinks. the bathroom located here was a mere hole in the ground. it was disgusting. i think it would have been cleaner to pee in a bush.

we had lunch around 1 or 2 and a "restaurant" high in the mountains. there were very few people living in these areas, as the only way to reach the remote locations was a great, long trek such as our own. everyone enjoyed his spaghetti and maize juice. we rested there for almost two hours before continuing to our destination town of santa teresa.

during the next hour, we saw coco plants and beautiful vistas. we were very very high above the lakes. "tengo mierdo!" we all agreed. it was scary. there were no guardrails or fences to keep us from falling hundreds of feet below. there were steep passages both up and down the mountains and they were extremely narrow. we often had to lean to the rocks for support. if nothing else, this part was humbling.

eventually we got back down to level ground. we had more or less climbed up to the mountain so that we could get to the other side. we were now walking on large rocks along the river. "fifty minutes," the tour guide said, "then we will be in the hot springs!" "en serio?!" i asked, completely elated and relieved. we had been hiking for a combined total of about six hours that day.

we came across an american family with two small boys who were also hiking. their energy made me feel lazy and pathetic. if they could walk this treacherous walk, so could i. and soon we came to a crossing at the river. what happened next was beyond anyone's wildest dreams.

events of note.

i have so much more to say about my peruvian "vacation". it seems silly to relate my adventures in any order but chronological; however, there is one segment of my journey which i must account for before describing what i think are only minor details of the trip.

now, i was having a lot of issues with my ex-boyfriend-who joined me on this trip. we decided to go to the bar at our hostel in cusco in order to forget some of these problems. somewhere between being frustrated with him and tipsy from the pisco, i decided we would embark on the four-day bicycle excursion that i had seen advertised in the downstairs reception area.

i spoke with the bartender about my decision, and she seemed a great supporter. she didn't think it would be too difficult on the body. she also mentioned the it was actually only one day of biking, and three of trekking. this seemed potentially exhilarating; potentially frightening to me...so i decided to go ahead and do it.

the next morning i was handing $180 of american money to a man who claimed to be the tour operator. the route was explained to us three separate times by three different people...once in spanish, once in english and once in spanglish.

the next morning twelve people from five different countries woke up at 6am and gathered for a desayuna of dry bread and instant coffee. then we piled into a van and rode to a bus. the bus ride lasted 4 hours and nauseated the hell out of me. the roads were windy and steep...and scary. there are no gaurdrails and the altitude in that area reaches 12,000 feet above sea level.

when we got to our destination--the top of some mountain area--most of us were carsick and enthusiastic to begin our biking tour. we paid a little girl .50 soles for toilet paper and the use of her family's outdoor bathroom. the trek would be solely downhill, we were told. after an hour or so of reassembling a dozen old mountain bikes, our guide gave us permission to take off.

i was a bit apprehensive. after all, we have to ride downhill and in the road. i was shaky at first, but the breathtaking views of mountains and valleys soon allayed my fears. of course, i was still riding the brakes--for fear of loosing control and going to fast. after a few minutes i fell behind some of the other rides and cruised alone. this solitude was much appreciated, despite my former boyfriends pleas for me to ride alongside himself.

i soon came across several dogs in the road who decided to chase me. so, i had three small dogs chasing frantically after me and jumping in front of my bike. i was scared shitless that i would fall in an attempt to veer away from them. i was also afraid to stop, as they may have attacked. after a few hundred feet, though, they were winded and i was successfully able to avert any actual contact with the mangy creatures.

the first time i saw an impending car, i almost lost control. i panicked and swiveled my handlebars as i tried to move as deeply into the shoulder of the road as possible. flustered and grateful that i didn't fall, i lowered my head as the truckload of men laughed at my idiocy. i was careful to maintain greater composure as i can across more vehicles throughout the rest of my descent.

after about 20 or 30 minutes of smooth cruising, the conditions of the road took a turn for the worst. the beautifully paved asphalt turned into rocks. lots of rocks.

more to come.

airborne scribbles.

3-2-1...oh my god i feel sick. the plane just took off from lima and we're soaring thickly in the bright clouds. god, i hate flying. i keep imagining a morbid newscast announcing the death of some unfortunate americans on this peruvian flight to cusco.

so,lima was generally boring, though worth the two-day glance. upon arrival, we were hounded by taxi drivers announcing their services. exhausted by our travels, we settled on the very first driver (for 45 soles)to lead us to Miraflores. The trip took about forty minutes, although i don't think the driver knew exactly where he was going. fortunately, i had written down the name (inka lodge) and address of our hostel prior to departure.

upon entering the hostel, we were greeted in friendly spanish. i had emailed the hostel the day before about a change in dates, as i had accidentally reserved the wrong days. this was no problem, and the woman kindly handed me a key to the room. the hostel itself was very clean--despite the musty-smelling air. it boasted two computers with free internet and plenty of tourist information in the lobby. the guests were relatively quiet, and tended to go to sleep quite early. such an environment was like nothing i have ever experienced in any hostel. the serenity was a nice break; however, i am more than happy to be on my way to cusco.