March 29, 2009 I have not updated our web site in a number of weeks, primarily because we have not had internet, but also because we needed time to process a number of events. We have been lucky over all of our years of traveling to never have felt at risk. After traveling to almost 40 countries, on every continent but one, we have never had anything stolen, never felt in danger, and have rarely been inconvenienced (even from bombings in Bali and typhoons in Japan). But these past six weeks in South America have reminded us that traveling has risks, just like driving to work and walking through Central Park. Because we are always sensitive to the fact that most people over-play the risks of travel, I have usually downplayed any of the things that happen to us, but that also is unfair. So, between the countries of Chile and Peru our family has experienced a robbery, two pickpockets, and an express kidnapping; each one eating into our travel-confidence. On our boat trip in the south of Chile we had a phone, $800 in cash, and video games stolen from our rooms. That was frustrating, but because we only discovered it in bits over the next few weeks, it wasn’t very personal. Then, while riding the subway in Santiago, all of our passports were grabbed from my purse by some women playing out a practiced scene of fainting and related chaos. Again, instead of feeling attacked I felt stupid for not having zipped my purse. It also faded quickly as we were fortunate to have the passports returned by the metro authority a couple days later. A week later Scott was pick-pocketed; his electronic translator lifted from his bag. This felt like more of a violation because we noticed right away and saw who had done it, but there was nothing we could do as he jumped off the subway and ran. Finally, we faced a situation that we had hoped we would only ever read about. Benjamin and Zachary went out for a beer on the main square in Arequipa (the second largest city in Peru). At about 10:30 they flagged down a taxi to take them back to our hotel. Instead the taxi drove down a side street and three other men jumped into the car and covered the boys’ eyes, telling them that they had a gun. They drove them for a long time, threatening them, until they pulled into a garage. They then took their wallets, phones and Benjamin’s gold ring and forced them to reveal their pin numbers. For a long time the captors kept the boys in the back of the taxi, with their heads covered by a blanket, while they used the cards. They were very frustrated with Benjamin, because one of this cards (Visa) did not have a pin, and the Peruvians were convinced that he was keeping it from them. They hit him, and threatened him. As the use of drugs, and the increased emotions of the kidnappers became clear, the boys decided their best bet was to run for it. They threw the blanket over the guys guarding them in the front seat, jumped out of the car and ran for the door. But they were quickly out numbered. They were beaten, kicked and strangled then thrown back in the car. This freaked out the captors and they sped off with the boys, out onto dirt roads the whole time threatening to kill them. They eventually stopped, dragged the boys out, trying to strangle them. The boys fought back and eventually the men drove away and left them. They were out in the desert with only the lights of Arequipa glowing in the distance to provide a sense of direction. They had lost their flip-flops in the flight and started walking down through a gorge towards the lights. They finally happened upon a hostel, and the owner got them a cab that he assured them was safe, gave them money to pay for it and the boys arrived back at our hotel around 2:00. They were shook to the core. We reported it to the police, and had paramedics come in to check them out. They had bruises on their faces, necks, and torsos, and cuts on their feet, but nothing worse. The next few nights required sleeping pills and the days were about cocooning. Almost three weeks have gone by. The bruises are gone and the boys have started to laugh again. They went out for a beer last night, but just around the corner. They have processed it, written about it and talked about it. At this point they are fine with having the story told, but don't want to do the telling. We still don’t like getting in a taxi (and will never again get in an un-marked taxi), and any reminder of the night makes my stomach turn. This one was personal. There was no blaming ourselves for a bad choice. Our belief that being strong, tall and and never alone would keep you safe has been eroded. We have been lucky before, and it has made us cocky. We are resetting our risk radar, locking up our valuables and being more aware of our surroundings. But we will keep traveling.
March 29, 2009 After a couple days in Arequipa, we flew to Lima for a single night before starting our next service project. We spent that evening at a mall that could easily exist in any city in the U.S. We ate at TGIFridays, shopped for flip-flops and some cold-weather clothes and ate ice-cream. It was just what we needed. Little did we know what the next two weeks would hold for us. The next day, Saturday the 14th, we traveled inland by van, and then up into the mountains by a rickety local bus, that took us up to 10,000 ft on dirt roads, with steep drop offs into the canyons below. It was spectacular as we passed waterfalls running over the road, saw lush mountains rising steeply around us and eventually climbed into the clouds, as our bus was surrounded by fog. Because of rains and recent mudslides, the bus dropped us and our luggage at the bottom of the village. We dragged and carried our bags up rocky and pitted roads, sucking in our breath, until we arrived at the only hotel in this town of 900. We could see virtually nothing of the town in the dark and fog and our rooms were as basic as anything we have ever stayed in. This concrete hotel from the 60s had no heat, no hot water, barely functioning bathrooms, peeling walls and ceilings, cold concrete floors, and beds so hard you feel like your hips are bruising. We put on layers of clothes, and climbed under the wool covers, not clear if they had ever been washed and tried to sleep. The next morning we awoke to this rough but picturesque pueblo of adobe houses with tin roofs nestled on the edge of a mountain, surrounded by terraced green peaks.  
We explored the narrow streets, climbed to a look out and soaked in the atmosphere. The sun was strong and warmed us, but by noon the clouds rolled in. The breeze picked up, and the fog became so thick that walking through the plaza we could only see a few feet in front of us. We learned that this is a pretty typical day. Some days there was no sun in the morning, but it was still warmer, and many evenings it would rain, but not too hard. This is late summer in San Pedro de Casta and the end of their rainy season. Over the next two weeks we worked every morning on various projects related primarily to the community school. We built a greenhouse for the agriculture teacher, then 6 adobe stoves: one for the school and 5 more for homes in the community
We cleaned, organized and improved their local mummy museum including the researching and writing of the posted information, in both English and Spanish.
  In the afternoons we huddled in our rooms to stay warm and worked on the materials for an English class that Benjamin and Zachary taught to the teachers everyday from 5-6:30. I wrote almost 40 worksheets and Alexander taped 1.5 hours of pronunciation guides that the teachers can now use when teaching the materials to their students. Scott re-formatted all 12 of the school’s computers to remove viruses, developed a website for the school, and installed our materials and audio files on every computer. He also was instrumental in showing the principal how to get internet to the school, a reality that seemed to be happening just as we left. Though beautifully located this is a poor town. Virtually every home is a single room with a dirt floor and the kitchen is a small building in the back with a wood fire. The government buildings, like the school and hotel are concrete, but in disrepair. Few homes have bathrooms, though they all have recently installed outdoor sinks with cold water (part of a Peruvian project –Agua por todo). Most families are subsistence farmers working the terraced slopes, and a few have small shops.
  We learned to make this home, though we counted down each cold night. I bought candles and lit them in our room. I’m not sure it took off much of the chill, but the small flames (I lit several!) boosted my spirits. With ice-cold water from the shower we managed one shower over the two weeks, but usually washed up in a plastic bowl using hot water boiled on the kitchen stove. We loaded up our beds with blankets, and wore many layers. The muddy streets and work projects rendered our clothes disgusting. The hotel owner’s wife washed a bunch by hand, and it took a couple days for them to dry in the intermittent sun. But since the boys stopped changing their clothes towards the end, it mattered less. On our last day we played tourist and took horses up to the top of the mountain to a site called Marcahausi. Here, on the top of the world, pre-Columbian societies built reservoirs, irrigation canals, fortresses and cemeteries. There are also a number of oddly shaped rock formations that have been attributed to ancient civilizations, but are probably the work of wind and rain. This site brings some tourists to San Pedro de Casta, often to experience the “energy.”     Finally our last day arrived and the school gave us quite a send off. They recognized all the projects we had done, but also all the things that our money had bought (2 ping-pong tables, a water tank, gas water heater, and doors for their bathrooms and showers, cases for the mummies, internet and telephone set-up, a projector and screen, materials to build the greenhouse and new pots, pans and kitchen supplies for each family that we built a stove for). The children sang, teachers gave speeches and we even christened the greenhouse with a bottle of beer. We are now back in Lima at the Doubletree hotel and everything seems a luxury; hot showers, toilet paper in the bathrooms, clean sheets and above all warm weather. On the 31st we fly to Cuzco and leave on the Inca trail on April 3rd.
April 9, 2009 Cusco has been a treat. Though certainly a tourist town, it has managed to maintain its dignity by limiting the infringement of commercialism. There is a McDonalds on the main square, but you wouldn’t know it unless you walked right by it. The streets are cobbled, everything is picturesque and you can walk anywhere you need to go. Above all we have enjoyed the quality of the restaurants.   But on April 3rd our experience became much more rustic, as we were picked up at 5:30 am to start the Inca Trial. The Inca Trail is hard. If anyone ever says otherwise, they are lying. For the young, fit and healthy it is "an appropriate challenge" (per Alexander). For those who do not meet any one of those characteristics it is often grueling. Our group consisted of 16 hikers, 2 guides, 18 porters and 2 cooks. That means we represented 38 of the only 400 people allowed on the trail each day. Alexander was the youngest in the group and the youngest I saw on the trail. Scott and I were the oldest and we probably only saw 8 other people in our age range. The vast majority of hikers are in their 20s and most (but not all) have all three of the above characteristics.  The trail was stunning. For the most part we walked on the stone path of the original Inca road. We passed through 7 different micro-climates including cloud-forests and sub-tropics, covering a mere 26 miles in 4 days. The variation in flora from prickly pears and Spanish moss to lupines and orchids was beautiful. We were very lucky to have clear weather for the majority of the hike, walking in fog, mist and rain for only about 15% of the time. Given that it is still rainy season we understood this to be very unusual. This meant that we were privy to spectacular views, including the descent onto Machu Pichu, which I guess is often shrouded in mist.    Yet the conditions were somewhat rough, especially for those who typically enjoy a turndown service. We slept in tents that were carried and set up by the porters. The nights were cold, but with enough layers and some sleeping pills we all slept well. Our wake-up call each morning was between 4:00-5:30am, but we were all so exhausted each evening that by 9:00pm everyone was sound asleep. Our campsites boosted modern bathroom facilities, which meant a couple squat toilets and cold running water used by the 400 campers and porters. Each day we hiked between 3 (last day) and 9 miles. But it wasn’t about the distance; it was all about the ascent. The first day was supposed to be an easy day, but as we all stumbled into camp after 6+ hours, 2000 ft and 7 miles of hiking, we were all becoming seriously anxious about day two…..and well we should have been. On day two we ascended 4000 ft to the highest pass (Dead Woman’s Pass) at 14,000 ft and then dropped 2000 ft, all over the course of only 9 miles. We all started at 7:30am, and Alexander was in the first group to complete the day reaching camp at 2pm. Scott and I did not arrive until 4pm, but still an hour before our final hiker who arrived at 5pm. This was truly grueling. We came to hate Inca steps (mostly when going up, but they’re not so easy going down either) and to be very thankful for our walking sticks. I need to mention here, that having been healthy this whole trip, I was struck with a bacterial infection of the gastro variety the morning our trip started. Around midnight on the first night of the trip, I stumbled around the tents in the dark to the squat toilet, with both chills and sweats. Scott immediately started planning my evacuation to civilization. But with morning light, the optimistic expectation that I would soon be better, and a few Imodium, I set off for day two (having at least relinquished my pack to a porter). Around 9:30am after having returned yet again from the woodland loo, I told Scott to just leave me to die. At this point in the hike there were nothing but Inca stairs up and I was weak and nauseous. Scott was great. He would count out 10 steps, and then we would rest. We did this for 2 hours until we reached a plateau where we met up with the guides, and our two older boys (who had waited to see how they could help). I collapsed onto a mat and lay comatose for an hour. My salvation was an anti-nausea pill provided by one of the other hikers. By 12:30 I was back on my feet and after 2 more hours up and 2 more hours down, I collapsed in my tent for the night. At this point in the trip there was no turning back.
Day three was 9 miles, but less up and more down. Part of this day was wet and the cool air helped. The scenery was wonderful. I felt better, but it was clear that this wasn’t going to be kicked without antibiotics, which of course we had left back in Cusco. The last day we arose before 4am, dressed and packed in the dark before heading off to Machu Pichu. The objective was to reach the viewpoint as the sun crested the mountains around 7am. It was lovely, and as you can see below, as picturesque as every post card you have seen.    By 8:30 we were wandering the ruins, enjoying the views and basking in our accomplishment. But our boys, and a few other die-hards from our group opted to climb Waynapicchu, the mountain on the opposite side from which you gain another beautiful view. It was one hour straight up, but these pictures are the prize.  We opted to stay in tourist town of Aguas Calientes, right below Machu Pichu that night. This allowed us to have a shower by 3pm and a soak in the hot springs later in the evening. On Tuesday morning we took the 4-hour train/taxi journey back to Cusco where I immediately got on a regimen of Cipro. We celebrated Zachary’s 19th birthday that night at a great restaurant and spent the 8th and 9th sleeping, reading, eating and internetting. I am recovered and we are ready to leave tomorrow morning at 5am for our next adventure – a 9-day jungle adventure in the Manu Amazon Rainforest. Once again a rustic experience, but at a lower elevation and with warm weather. |
