Peru - Day 4 - The Return Journey

2/16/16, “The Return Journey”

En route, NYC Airporter 604

It is raining in NYC, and I do not believe I will see sub-freezing temperatures or snow again this year, not until November.  The groundhog was right.  Winter is over.  He was just a week early.  The return journey was a particularly strenuous one, but, as that dateline attests, all’s well that end’s well.  I will be at the office no more than an hour or so late, and I have safely arrived back in the States with will my possessions and purchases intact.  I will soon be eating my favorite New York staple: a poppy seed bagel with cream cheese.  Nothing, and I mean nothing, says “Welcome to New York” like a poppy seed bagel, despite Taylor’s best efforts to make a song out of it.

After I left my hotel last night, it was no easy task to find a driver who would take me to the airport.  I was turned down by numerous drivers with what I have come to learn is a Latin American way of saying no: a wagging finger.  In English-speaking America, it would be an admonishment.  The irony was not lost on me, and I was left wondering why I was being admonished for wanting to go to the airport.  Finally, someone agreed, but he had no idea where he was going, and he got lost in a neighborhood that looked like it might have still had the original Incan roads and buildings.  He insisted it was the right direction, but I refused to believe that the road from the main plaza to the airport went through such an area.  It only cost us 10 minutes, and I was at the airport by 9:30 PM.

My flight was scheduled to depart just past midnight at 12:10 AM.  I went through security and border control with no issue and then went to the duty-free shop.  They had a few boxes of Montecristo No. 2 cigars, which were decently priced.  One problem.  They were just sitting out.  They weren’t humidified or temperature controlled.  I had no idea how many years they had been like that, and the boxes were sealed, so I couldn’t even examine them.  I was not going to spend the better part of a week’s salary on a box of questionable cigars.  I instead got a bottle of pisco and a bottle of Peruvian red.  I headed to the smoking bar, where I sat down, lit up my 2015 Christmas Pipe, and proceeded to write last night’s entry.  After I closed, I connected to the Wi-Fi through my laptop.  I had exactly 10 minutes to publish it and post it to Facebook before the free Wi-Fi would expire.  It took me just over 9 minutes.  I then headed to the gate, and our flight kept getting delayed.  We were unsure if the flight would ever even take off.

Finally, a little before 1 AM, we saw a happy sight, the wheelchair-bound passengers were being rolled onto the plane.  It was not long before everyone else was boarded, which included a very perfunctory search of our baggage.  After we took off, I soon fell asleep, waking up for the dinner service, a pasta dish with some Coke Zero, falling back asleep afterwards.  I didn’t wake up for breakfast, but a little after that I was wide awake as we prepared to make our descent.

I had an exit row seat in the middle bunch of seats, which was good because I had lots of extra leg room, but it was also annoying because people kept walking through, often hitting my leg and annoying me.  I started putting my seat up on the seatback in front of me to create a barrier that people could not cross.  I would later learn the issue.  The bathroom on the other side wasn’t working, so everyone on that side had to cross in order to use the bathroom.  Right before we made our descent I went to use the bathroom, and there was a cute girl in front of me.  Or, at least I thought she was cute, until I noticed her aquamarine toe nails.  She was not wearing any footwear, and she walked into the bathroom with her bare feet.  HOW DOES SOMEONE DO THAT?!?

Anyway, we soon landed, and I made my way through border control with no problem.  It was raining when I got outside, and I opted for the bus instead of a taxi.  The bus soon came, and I went to my favorite seat in the back, where I proceed to write this entry.  I put the seat in front of me down, but I was soon told they needed that seat.  Without that extra legroom, the bus ride is very uncomfortable.  If I am able to use it as a foot rest, though, it’s more comfortable than a taxi.

Alright, now for those reflections.  I think it would be fair to divide North America into three regions: the North, by which I mean US, Canada, Greenland, and Iceland; Central America, in which I include Mexico; and the islands.  Many of the islands are Spanish-speaking, but they sure more in common with each other and English-speaking parts of Central America (Belize), than they do with Spanish South America.  Having been to South America twice now, this is the first time I have seen the South American countryside.  Yes, it bears resemblance to the countrysides of Mexico and Costa Rica and Cuba, but it is really something else entirely.

The Indian culture is what unites these regions, but the Incan regions, to which I very much look forward to further exploring in my 30s, are very different than the Mayan and Aztec regions.  However, there are many things that unite the entire Spanish Americas, including small things.  One small thing is that vendors of fruit and beverages will approach you at slow traffic and offer to sell their wares.  The aggressive souvenir vending I am all too familiar with extended to restaurants here in this country.  People would try to get you to eat at their restaurant the same way they would try to sell you souvenirs.

The food was great, even the guinea pig, and I am very much looking forward to discovering Ecuadorian and Columbian cuisine on my next return to Spanish South America, or, perhaps, Venezualan cuisine, and I have a feeling I should go there sooner rather than later.  Either way, I have 10 countries left to discover on that continent, and I am very much looking forward to it.  On that note, I close, along with closing out this trip.  Next stop: probably the Carolinas in March, a trip I have been saying I’ll take every March for three years now.

Peru - Day 3 - The Capital

2/15/16, “The Capital”
Lima, Peru

There are 13 countries in South America, and I surprised myself on the flight last night by effortlessly naming 10 of them and their capitals.  The 3 I could not recall were the “Guianas”:  Guyana (formerly British Guiana), French Guiana, and Suriname (formally Dutch Guiana).  I have now been visited the capitals of two of those countries.  While I am nearing my goal of visiting every country in North America and its capital, I am nowhere close for South America.  I intend to spend a lot of time on this continent in my 30s, as I will have run out of North America destinations by the time I turn 30.  I hope to write similar entries to this one from Caracas and Bogota and La Paz and Montevideo and Ascuncion and Quito and Santiago and Brasilia and whatever the capitals are of the three Guianas.

Well, that was a first, two firsts actually.  A couple of police officers came up to me and told me I couldn’t do my writing in front of the Congress.  They suggested I go back to the plaza by the cathedral.  As I was walking back to my spot from last night, some random guy came up to me and started talking to me.  He soon asked I wanted to buy any weed.   I turned him down.  He then asked if I wanted to buy any cocaine.  I turned him down again.  That’s never happened before.  I’ve been offered weed in practically every island in the Caribbean, but cocaine, that was a first.  Alright, so I was mentioning how I intend to visit every capital in South America by the time I’m 40.  Each time I visit this continent, my interest is piqued, so I very much look forward to many returns.  I will actually be returning this summer for the Olympics, but I will likely not visit Brasilia, though I’m not sure what my schedule in Rio will be.

Anyway, after I closed last night, from this very bench, I headed across the street to what appeared to be an all-night convenience store.  They were locked, and you had to order through a window.  I was able to ascertain that they had a chicken tortilla, which I paired with an Inca Cola, my new favorite soft drink.  It was awful, but I was starving.  I then made my way back to the hotel, getting lost again, and discovering there was an all-night fast food place that would have been a much better option.  Finally, getting a hold of my bearings, I realized just how close the hotel had been to the plaza, maybe a two-minute walk if had gone there directly rather than taking the long way around. I went back to the hotel and lit up one of my favorite after-dinner cigars, a VSG.  I published my entry and then wrote my personal entry before passing out.

I woke up about 6 hours later for breakfast.  I’ve had some bad hotel breakfasts.  This was the worst.  They had watermelon, croissants, ham, and coffee, none of which looked good.  I took a cup of coffee, a croissant, and a few pieces of ham.  I put it down on the table and took a sip of coffee.  It was awful.  “Nope,” I said and walked away, leaving the food untouched.

I went to the all-night fast food place, which served breakfast and got there specialty: a ham and cheese sandwich, fries, an egg, and coffee.  The food was decent (and cheap), and I could see the presidential palace from my seat.  I then went back to my room before coming back to the plaza.  I lit up a Partagas and stopped at the souvenir market on the way to the plaza.

They had flag pins and keychains, which was all I needed, even though they didn’t have any t-shirts that fit me.  I then walked around the plaza and took my ceremonial pictures before heading back to the room.  I packed and relaxed a bit before I headed back down to check out.  As shitty as the hotel was, the location was perf, so it sufficed.

I then went to the Congress to take my ceremonial pictures there.  I found a tree planter where I sat down, in the planter, and proceeded to write this entry.  I was told I had to leave while I was still writing my first paragraph and made my way to the plaza, where I was accosted by the drug dealer as I mentioned.  I sat down on my familiar bench, where I continued my entry, which I will now close so that I can find a cigar shop, where it will hopefully be air conditioned.  It is so hot that I can barely think.  When I went Egypt, I wished that I had an extra 6 hours so that I could spend some time in the capital.  Now, I have 6 hours to kill here in the capital.  Oh, and, while I was writing, another guy came up to me and asked if I wanted to buy any coke.  The only coke I was interest in was the Coke Zero I have been drinking.  Alright, now for that cigar store.

Jorge Chavez International Airport, Peru (LIM)

I am smoking my 2015 Christmas Pipe for the final time abroad this season.  My winter season of travel has come to an end, and all that remains is the return journey.  It has been an incredible winter season of travel, but Machu Picchu surely makes the top three, along with the Pyramids and the Wall.  I will reflect more later on my winter of travel, along with my general impressions of South America, but first I need to recount the rest of time in the capital.  I began the return journey about 7 hours after I closed, and it was a long 7 hours.

As I was walking to the cigar shop, stopped at a Starbucks, a process that took way too long, especially since they thought “plain, regular coffee” meant “espresso with hot water.”  It turned out they had a French press, so they used that to make me regular coffee, along with my alfajores.  After my snack, I resumed my walk to the cigar shop.  I saw some movie theatres along the way and noted a 5:15 PM showing of Deadpool.  That would give me plenty of time for my cigar before the movie and time enough for dinner afterwards.  It would be perfect timing.

I went to where the cigar store was, which happened to be across the street from what I affectionately referred to as the SCOTROP.  My clever readers will ascertain the meaning of my acronym for Peru’s Palace of Justice.  I learned that cigar was no longer there and that I would have to go to Miraflores, basically the Geneva of Peru, to find a cigar shop.  I went to take my ceremonial pictures at SCOTROP, which involved having to dodge some traffic.

I was about to head to the movie theatre after I posted my pictures when I got a message from my Antarctica friend.  She asked how I had enjoyed Cusco.  I explained to her the details of my schedule and that I was actually in the capital now.  I showed her my pictures of what I called the trifecta: the Presidential Palace, Congress, and SCOTROP.  I then told her I was thinking of seeing Deadpool.  She made it clear to me in no uncertain terms that I was not to use my travel time to see a movie, that I was to go explore.  “As you wish,” I responded, wondering if she would catch the “Princess Bride.”  No, I will not explain that joke to my readers who have never seen the movie.  I told her I’d go to Miraflores.

I got in a taxi and had him take me to the Fumador.  I would later learn that the Casa de Fumador was want I wanted and that I had wound up at a different Fumador.  They had a nice selection of cigars that were only slightly overpriced.  I picked out four cigars and a small bottle of pisco.  I then went outside to smoke a Diplomaticos and drink my pisco, which tasted too much like tequila for some reason, so I could finish it. As I was finishing my cigar, I walked towards the park, where I found a stand selling  a type of Peruvian donuts called “picarones”.

I then walked to the restaurant, Saqra, a Peruvian fusion restaurant.  I ordered their take on Peru’s national dishes, both of which are technically fusion dishes to begin with: ceviche and lomo saltado.  I started with an Inca Kola and then a pisco sour.  For dessert, I had some kind of cake flavored with their national fruit: Lucama.  I took a taxi back to the hotel and headed back down into the basement to change.

It was a dusty storage room, but I supposed there would be no harm in changing in there.  Once I had changed into my travelling suit, I started to head back upstairs.  I went outside to catch a taxi and thus began the return journey, which, as is my tradition, I will treat in its entirety tomorrow morning, along with adding in some reflections.  So, I will close on that note, but, first, one point of order.  There are actually 12, not 13, countries in South America.  French Guiana is, of course, a French territory.

Peru - Day 2 - My Incan Valentine

2/14/16, “My Incan Valentine”

Machu Picchu, Peru (The Sanctuary of Machu Picchu)

Vistas don’t get much more iconic than this one.  I am situated by the guardhouse of the Incan City of Machu Picchu, looking down at the sanctuary straight ahead, with smoke covered mountains to either side, yet the sanctuary is completely clear.  This vista is another vista I will remember for my entire life.  The other New7 Wonders that I have thus far visited are Petra (just a bunch of carved stones), the Taj Mahal (just a big tomb), the Great Wall (well, that was pretty great), and Chichen-Itza (just a big pyramid).  This wins, by a longshot.  I don’t see Christ the Redeemer (just a big statue) or the Colosseum (just a big sports stadium) competing.  This is my “Grand Canyon moment.”

There is only one cultural vista that I have ever seen that could come close: The Sphinx and Great Pyramid of Giza.  However, that was surrounded by a desert.  This is surrounded by mountains, smoke-covered mountains that would put the ones in North Carolina to shame.  I can barely breathe, not because the view is breath-taking, but because of the elevation.  It is worth it.  It is so worth it.  Two flights, a taxi, a train, a bus, and a bit of a hike.  I left the cigar shop 36 hours ago.  This was no easy journey.   It was so worth it.

After I closed last night, I headed down for the drink service, and they were serving this Peruvian brandy.  At the elevation, the alcohol got to me very quickly.  Between the beer and the two servings of the Peruvian brandy (both pure and in a sour), I was toasted, utterly and royally toasted.  I didn’t care.  It wasn’t even 7 PM, but I had no activities planned for the night.  I didn’t even plan to go to sleep until 11:11 PM.  I could relax and enjoy myself.  So what if I was a little hungover for my early morning hike.  If I recount all the alcohol I had in 2016 thus far, I don’t think it was more than the equivalent of six servings.  In other words, I wound up drinking more tonight than I had thus far in all of 2016 combined.  Okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration, but it’s close.

I went upstairs to publish my entry, relaxed a bit, then headed down for dinner.  Dinner was included with my room, as was a bottle of wine.  I looked through the menu and found what I wanted: loin of alpaca.  Jackpot!  I opted for that for my mine course along with an Andean appetizer sampler.  Perf.  Wow, the altitude is really getting to me.  I can barely think straight.  The appetizer sampler was delish, and I announced, “63,” with my first bite.  It had some local sauces, which I soaked up with my remaining bread.

Then came the alpaca, along with more cheese ravioli and fries.  I had gotten my chopsticks for just this occasion.  It is possible that I have become the first person to ever eat alpaca in Peru with chopsticks, though there is a bit of a tradition of Chinese cuisine here, so maybe the Chinese restaurants serve alpaca.  I messaged back and forth with a variety of friends as I ate my meal.  I only made it through two glasses of wine during my meal, but I was completely out of it.

I got a Peruvian appetizer sampler for dessert.  Then the coffee and petit fours.  I ate way too much to say the least.  I headed back to my room to get my computer bag and went outside with the rest of my bottle of wine.  I lit up a Partagas, this time finally announcing “63” for real, as I had my cigar, and watched the Republican debate.  Trump embarrassed himself in the first half.  He called both Bush brothers liars, blamed the elder brother for 9/11, refusing to give him credit keeping us safe for 7 years afterwards.  I need to pause now, as I am hogging the vista apparently.

Okay, I have relocated to a slightly less classic photo spot, but the vista is just as good.  Anyway, the younger Bush brother did a tremendous job defending his family against Trump’s attacks.  While Trump may have said what a large portion of the country feels, it is no way to win a Republican primary, but he has defied every bit of conventional wisdom, so who knows.  Apparently the online polls say he’s won the debate.  It’s actually final, after my slight relocate, the vista became more interesting again, as I was starting to tire of staring at the same angle for so long, though the fog is starting to come back in.   The two Senators continued to show their brilliance, but President Obama is a brilliant man, too, and they spent a lot of time arguing about who was a bigger supporter of deportation, both trying to eschew their previous stances on amnesty.  Dr. Carson once more proved he had no business running for President, and I expect that this is the time we’ll see him on a debate stage.

That just left Governor Kasich, by far the most electable candidate, possibly the only man on that stage that can unite both parties again, just as he has been doing for decades.  Democrats love him, and he’d deliver the entire Midwest and coal region.  However, tonight was the first time I began to believe that he could win a Republican primary.  He came in second in New Hampshire, and he has a good shot of a top three finish in South Carolina.  If Trump collapses, Kasich might be able to miraculously pull of a victory, and a President Kasich will bring our country together once more.  As the debate drew to a close, I headed back inside, and I figured I had finished the bottle of wine by then.  Not even close.  It wasn’t even half empty.

I fell asleep shortly after 11:11 PM, waking up around 5:30 AM.  I was still full from dinner, so I just got dressed, grabbing a piece of bread and some coffee, which I ate as I walked to the gate.  I expected it to be pretty much empty at 6 AM.  No such luck.  Two huge buses had pulled in, and the entrance was filled with tourists.  I got to the gate at 6 AM, but one problem: the fog.  I knew that I would not be able to see any kind of meaningful sunrise, but I hoped that I would still get a nice vista.  I began the grueling hike, up a steeped and curved path, stopping multiple times to catch my breath.  I finally made it to the guardhouse, just as the fog started to dissipate.  There it was.  That iconic vista.  I was floored.

There was no smoking in the sanctuary, so I knew I would have to be clever with my ceremonial picture.  I waited until no one was watching, got my water bottle ready, and lit up a Romeo y Julieta that came in a tubo.  I snapped a few ceremonial pictures and sat down at the viewpoint, where I proceeded to write this entry.  Within six minutes, I was told to put out the cigar.  That was fine.  It had served its purpose.  I could finish it back at the hotel.  I put the cigar back in the tubo.  I continued to write my entry until I was told to relocated, where I once more continued the entry, which I will now close so that I can head down to the sanctuary.

Aboard Vistadome 204, En route Machu Picchu-Ollantaytambo

Well, this train ride is in sharp contrast to the one I took yesterday on my journey to the sanctuary.  It is louder, more crowded, and just more rambunctious.  Also, apparently today is some kind of festival (not Valentine’s Day, something else), so there is a costumed dancer going up and down the aisle.  Everyone else seems to be enjoying it, I’m not.  I just want to get to my hotel in Lima.  It is very similar to the feeling I felt a year ago today when I just wanted to get to my hotel in El Paso, though it is for very different reasons.  A year ago today, I was actually depressed.  Today, I’m just tired and exhausted.

I need earplugs or something.  Okay, the dancing has stopped, I think.  Now they’re trying to sell alpaca stuff.  It is literally so loud I can barely think.  Oh, fuck, they’re doing some kind of fashion show with the alpaca clothes.  After I closed, I headed down to the sanctuary, but I didn’t imagine how it could be more magical than the vista from the guardhouse.  It wasn’t.  Besides, I was just wanted to get out of there so that I could finish my cigar and have some breakfast.  I wandered down and walked around a bit before taking the first turn back to the exit.

I then waited at the entrance with my cigar until the gift shop opened.  Meanwhile, I posted to social media and messaged my friends.  Being the only gift shop at the sanctuary, it was, of course, overpriced, so I only got the basics: two replicas, two keychains, a t-shirt, and a pin.

I then headed back to the hotel and retrieved my glass of wine that I had left unfinished from last night.  I brought it outside with me and finished my cigar, as I responded to a thread of emails about the debate with my father and his friends.  Oops, that is vague.  The people on the thread of emails were my father and his friends.  The topic was last night’s Republican debate.

I then headed down for breakfast, still working on that same glass of wine.  The spread was almost the same as the spread from tea yesterday afternoon, and I got a plate of breads, cheeses, and meats.  I ate that with my wine and some coffee.  This is hell.  This is literally hell.  This noisy fashion show is so unconducive to me writing my entry.  The walking, the clapping, the loud music, the hooting.  It certainly doesn’t want to make me buy any alpaca products, though I suppose I could use a new scarf.

The next course was the hot food, obviously I chose the Andean sampler, which had a bunch of good stuff on it.  I also had to get the desserts, as they were soon closing the buffet.  I would save that for later.  As I ate, I messaged back and forth with my Antarctica friend about our mutual experiences in Machu Picchu.  Also, Facebook had a special feature for Valentine’s Day, whereby you could “wrap” a message to be sent in the messenger app.  I shared with her some Valentine’s Day sentiments, of which she was very appreciative.

After breakfast, I went back up to my room and called my parents to discuss both the debate last night and Machu Picchu this morning.  Not having enough time for another cigar, I relaxed a bit before getting ready to leave, munching on my desserts meanwhile and starting another glass of wine.  There were still about two full glasses left in the bottle.  I checked out and went to the bus stop.  The bellboy from the hotel took my bags to the bus stop.  He told me to sit down.  There was a long line, and he said he would wait on line for me.  Now that’s good service!  He got a tip for sure.

It was a little before noon by the time I got to the village, and I wasn’t hungry enough for lunch, which would have been guinea pig, I shit you not.  I found a souvenir shop, where I loaded up on other souvenirs, for less than I spent at the Official souvenir shop.  I was so exhausted, and my mobility was limited at this point, both by the heat and the elevation, so exploring seemed a frutal quest, especially since I now had everything I needed.  The agent from the hotel had taken my suitcase and coat to the train station.  I just had my computer bag with me.

I found a nice quiet spot to enjoy a Davidoff Special R, one of my favs.  It was in the shade, but I was still overwhelmed.  Then the festival started, costumed people walking down the streets, people having water fights.  It was just crazy.  I continued my cigar before I made my way to the train station, where the hotel’s agent was waiting with my stuff.

The hotel was going to arrange a taxi to take me from the train station to Cusco for a bit then to the airport.  The price they had quoted just to the airport was perfectly reasonable, actually less than I paid on the journey to the sanctuary.  The agent had a number written on a sheet of paper, which was about twice than the original number.  That seemed reasonable enough to include the stop in Cusco.  I was then informed that that was in American dollars, not Peruvian sols.  Not happening.  That was four times what it should have been.  I asked how much to just go to the airport, the price did not go down much.

We made our way to the train, and he kept calling the hotel, seeing what they could do.  I asked if I could just get a taxi at the train station in Ollantaytambo.  He said I could, but some of the drivers there are dishonest.  Dishonest?!?  As if trying to charge me four times what the price should be was honest?  Eventually he was able to confirm a driver would pick me up at the original price.  I suppose I’ll have to negotiate with him directly to go into Cusco.  I just need to light up a cigar and take a ceremonial picture.  That’s it.

I got on the crowded and loud train and instantly knew that I was in hell.  I sat down in my seat and started to write another chapter in my novel, or, more accurately, novella.  I have now written three of my anticipated four chapters, each chapter should be 1000 words or less, unless I expand them, and I have left plenty of room in each chapter for expansion.  I then proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close, as I believe we will soon be arriving at Ollantaytambo.  It certainly appears that we are encountering more signs of civilization.

Alejandro Velasco Astete International Airport, Peru (CUZ)

Ah, perfect timing, and just enough time for a brief entry before I fly to Lima.  Everything went off without a hitch.  As soon as we disembarked at Ollantaytambo, my taxi driver was waiting for me at the entrance to the train station.  He took my bags, and we went to the parking lot.  He got the car, and we got on the road.  I figured we had a major time crunch.  It was 3:10 PM, my flight, the last flight to Lima, was at 7:40 PM.  I figured I needed to be at the airport at least an hour early, and the ride from the Cusco airport to Ollantaytambo yesterday had taken over two hours.

Best case I figured, I’d have enough time for a ceremonial picture and then straight to the airport.  My driver said the ride would be about an hour and a half.  If that was true, it would be great.  He said the best spot to stop would be the Plaza de las Armas.  That sounded good.  It was raining, but the rain soon stopped, and I lit up a Jaime Garcia.  My driver did not speak a word of English it seemed, but my Spanish was good enough for us to communicate during our time together.  It was a scenic drive that I had missed on the way in.

We got to Cusco a little before 5 PM, right on schedule, but there was a festival (or carnival, as he called it) on for Saint Valentine’s Day.  Apparently they celebrate it a little differently than we do in the States.  At this point, I had two very pressing biological needs that would need to be abated before my ceremonial picture.  One of them was hunger, the other could easily be taken care of at the restaurant as well.  We navigated the traffic, him dropping me off by the plaza at around 5:10 PM.  I figured that gave me close to an hour, enough time for a meal, a cigar, ceremonial pictures, and souvenirs, and to be back at the car by 6:10 PM and the airport by 6:40 PM.  I would need to find a restaurant where I could smoke to condense time.

As I mentioned earlier, I wanted to try the local specialty that my Antarctica friend had recommended to me: guinea pig.  Again, I shit you not.  I found a restaurant where I could smoke.  It had a balcony, and it served guinea pig.  Perf.  I ordered my guinea pig, along with some fries and an “Inca Cola.”  I went back to my seat and lit up a beat up Montecristo.  Everything was going perfectly.

The waitress soon brought me a plate with a giant rodent on it.  It tasted exactly as my friend had warned me: rodenty.  There was Wi-Fi at the restaurant, so I was able to get caught up while I ate.  My cigar had gone out, my lighter was empty, and I had run out of matches.  After I paid my check, I asked the waitress for a lighter or matches.  She found some matches and lit my cigar for me right in the restaurant, not that any cared.

I went down to take some ceremonial pictures and posted one, still in range of the restaurant’s Wi-Fi.  I then went in search of souvenirs.  I just wanted a keychain, and I found one, but I also bought some Peruvian cigars.  I got back to the car right on target, at 6:10 PM.  The ride to the airport was very short, and we were there before 6:30 PM.  He told me the price, much more reasonable than I expected, so I gave him a nice tip, 20%.  I checked in and, to my surprise, they also gave me my ticket to Lima.  I asked for an emergency exit aisle.  They had one.  Perf.

Reader, note that, I have hardly spoken a word of English since I got on the train at Machu Picchu.  Even to people who were clearly Anglican and speaking English to me, I spoke Spanish, unable to transition out of speaking Spanish.  Everything I have recounted in this entry was spoken in Spanish, other than my electronic communications.  I went through security, and then I had to walk down a flight of stairs to the gate, which seemed really sketchy.  I then found a seat, where I proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close, as it is almost time to start boarding.

Lima, Peru

There are so many similarities between my last 24 hours here in Lima and my last 24 hours in Buenos Aires last January, and not just because I am smoking my 2014 Christmas Pipe, and not just because I am in the center of the Capital of a large South American country at the end of an epic trip.  Actually, wait, those are the main similarities.  Other than these two South American capitals, I also smoked this pipe in Giza, but there was no view in Giza, so I suppose this wins, since the Plaza de las Armas here is much more interesting than the place I sat in Buenos Aires.  Actually, Lima as a whole seems to be more interesting than Buenos Aires, so I relish my day in the capital tomorrow.

I can stay up as late as I want tonight and sleep as late as I want tomorrow and still have plenty of time to explore.  I chose a shitty hotel in a great location, but I won’t spend much waking hours in the hotel.  Location is what matters.  Everything is right here.  Oh, right, I wanted to expound on my use of the term, “The Capital,” and I’m not sure if it’s a Hunger Games thing or if I just use it because that’s how I think of the capital city.  Often if I’m describing a trip to someone, I’ll make reference to “spending a night in the capital” or “heading back to the capital.”  That’s all Lima is to me: the capital of Peru.  No, my use of the term predates my renewed interest in the Hunger Games, though I do not doubt that Mockingjay cemented my use of it.

Anyway, it seems that my arrival in the capital with a full day of nothing planned other than exploring the capital has come to signify the end of a trip.  Buenos Aires, of course, provides an excellent example, but I had similar last day experiences in Panama City, Tehran, Delhi, and I would have had one in San Jose if I hadn’t chosen to fly home earlier instead.

After I closed at the airport, we soon boarded.  It was a big plane, but we had to walk out and use the stairs.  Right before we took off, I moved to the row in front of me, which was more open, intending to stretch out and nap during the flight, which I found myself unable to do, though I did rest my eyes a bit.  Before long, they announced that we were making our descent.  There it was: the capital, and it was splendid, even from the air, especially from the air.  Also, I had cellular data service again.

We got off the plane, by the stairs, and headed to a bus.  Throughout this process, as I got caught up on social media, I saw something(s) that left me truly distraught.  I will provide no details about the specifics here, as they will be relegated to my personal journal entry.  I was truly distraught, though, and it was all I could think about for the next hour or so.  It left me mopey on Valentine’s Day just like last year, though for a different reason this time.

I got a taxi that would take me to my hotel, and I put on the Fearless album by Taylor Swift, just as I had listened to a year ago today when I was all mopey on Valentine’s Day.  I reflected on the difference and everything that had changed in the past 365 years.  I am certainly a stronger person than I was a year ago today.  I told myself that I would allow myself to mope until we reached the hotel.  I didn’t even need that long.  Once I started seeing the historic buildings of downtown Lima I was good.  We soon got to the Congress, and it became apparent that my driver had no idea where he was going or where the hotel was.  Eventually, thorugh my Google Maps, we found it.

The hotel was a piece of shit, and they didn’t have a record of my reservation, despite me clearly having a Hotels.com confirmation email.  She just took down my name and passport number and gave me a key, didn’t even ask for a credit card.  The hotel was shit, seriously.  Three stars was a stretch, and I recalled my very similar experience last January in Buenos Aires.  I changed into some casual clothes, still playing Taylor.  I asked her to promise me that she’d never leave me, “Forever and always,” I demanded.  She just kept singing.  I collapsed on my bed sideways and lamented once more what I had seen.

I then went into the bathroom and saw something that completely lifted my spirits.  It was the most difficult Official Uing situation I had ever seen.  There was less than a foot between the bowl of the Uer and the tub.  How was I supposed to take an Official U?  Well, the answer was that my feet would fit under the bowl, but it was still no easy feat.   I then grabbed my computer bag and got a lighter from the front desk before heading towards the more interesting parts of town, still playing Taylor.

I had to choose between Congress and the main plaza.  I chose the main plaza, the views being better there.  It was still alive with couples still celebrating Valentine’s Day, not being shy about showing some PDA, or, as it would be in Spanish, MAP.  I took some pictures, non-ceremonial (those can wait for tomorrow), still playing Taylor.  I then did a flashback post, joking that Taylor was my Valentine again this year, perhaps even “forever and always.”  For my readers who do not get this joke I keep making, “Forever & Always” is one of my favorite Taylor Swift songs.  I then found an empty bench in front of the presidential palace, where I sat down, lit up my 2014 Christmas Pipe, and proceeded to write this entry, still playing Taylor.  On that note, pun intended, I’ll close so that I can try to find some food and head back to the hotel to publish this and also write my personal entry.

Peru - Day 1 - The Journey to the Sanctuary

2/13/16, “The Journey to the Sanctuary”

Aboard Vistadome 303, En route Ollantaytambo-Machu Picchu

All that’s missing is the hat and the whip.  I can even hear John William’s famous theme playing in my head.  “Bom pa bom buhm.  Bom pa buhm.  Bom pa buhm.”  Yes, reader, I feel like Indiana Jones making this journey.  Only, I am not heading to the Temple of Doom, and I am heading to the Sanctuary of Machu Picchu, or, as I have been simply calling it, “the sanctuary.” 

Everything here is so retro.  I am clearly in unfamiliar territory.  While there are familiar aspects from the Central American and Caribbean countrysides I have so frequently visited, there are is more different than similar.  For the first time in my life, I am in Incan country.  Not since I went to India have I found myself in a more unfamiliar country.  This is one of the last vestiges left of that time period.

There is so much more to Peru than just the sanctuary, but the sanctuary is the reason for my trip.  I will enjoy the other aspects of Peruvian culture after I have said, “Five down, two to go,” denoting the Sanctuary of Machu Picchu as the fifth New7 Wonder of the World I have visited.  That just leaves Christ the Redeemer in Rio and the Colosseum in Rome, both scheduled for this summer.

I should be at the hotel in a couple of hours, and I hope to catch a glimpse of the sanctuary by sunset, but, if I don’t, I will wake up at the crack of dawn to spend as much time as I can in the sanctuary before making my way back to Lima.  Either way, I’ll have dinner at the lodge and then, if there is a good enough connection, watch the Republican Debate.  It will be a whirlwind trip, but I will actually be spending far more time at the sanctuary than I have spent at any of the four New7 Wonders I previously visited.

After I closed, we soon boarded.  My plan was to fall asleep as soon as we took off.  We will still on the ground at 11:11 PM.  I didn’t want to do a movie, but I figured I’d listen to some music.  The first song I listened to was a song I’m almost embarrassed to admit I listened to.  It is a song that I have not listened to since the last time we had a Clinton in the White House.  It was, my apologies to my readers who are about to cringe, “Oops…I did it again” by Britney Spears.  I assembled a playlist only using A-F, being too tired to scroll through the whole alphabet.  There was ABBA, The Beatles, the Cast Recording from Grease, David Bowie, Elton John, Frank Sinatra, and others I think.  They did a food and beverage service.  I got the cheese tortellini and lots of Coke Zero.

I then fell asleep, waking up for breakfast, ham and cheese on toast.  I was dead tired at this point, my 4.5 hours of sleep being nowhere near enough.  I cleared immigration and then went to get my suitcase, which took so long to come out that I was starting to worry about it.  Meanwhile, whether it was from the way I held my foot while I slept, or the acetaminophen, or just time, my foot was starting to feel better, much better.  Actually, there is no pain in that foot now, though, in a bit of irony, since I have been putting all of my weight on my other foot while this one heals, that foot is now starting to hurt.  Either way, I can walk comfortably on my two feet now.

I cleared security again and got my train ticket.  The train ticket said that the limit for luggage was one bag, 5 kilos.  I was thinking to myself, LOL, my computer bag alone is more than 5 kilos.  I have at least a kilo in tobacco alone.  She said I’d be fine with my two bags.  I fell asleep before we took off for Cusco, waking up as we landed.  I was still tired.  I was immediately accosted by taxi drivers, and I went to a booth that looked reputable.  I asked how much for a taxi to the train station in Ollantaytambo.  He quoted me a price that was at the high of what the lady who printed my train ticket had said.  I said that that was too much and asked for the price at the lower end of the range.  He agreed and called his “brother.”

That’s the thing about taxi drivers.  They are always someone’s “brother.”  Is that a way for them to foster trust in their perspective customers, that the manager is the driver’s “brother”?  I’ve heard it in China, Arabia, and Latin America.  I had gotten a notification on my phone from my friend, that she had sent me a multimedia message that was unable to be downloaded, as I was on analog only.  The message size was 5 KB.  My first thought was, no image could only be 5 KB.  My second thought was, it must have been a long text message, which made sense, as I was awaiting a long message from her about her job hunt.  My third was, how many characters long does a text message have to be to be 5 KB?  Isn’t it a character per Byte? That would mean 5000 characters, which is about 4 pages of a hardcover novel.  The job search must have gone really well.

I got in the taxi and soon lit up my Davidoff Escurio Gran Toro and put on Red.  Still no digital service.  After the cigar, I fell asleep.  As we approached Ollantaytambo, I heard a familiar chirp on my phone.  The message had come through.  It was actually so long that my phone couldn’t process it as one message.  The message literally ended with “(More…)”.  I responded to the message and asked her to send it to me by Facebook so that I could read the whole message once I got on my hotel’s Wi-Fi.

By this point, we were at the ticket office, and I had to walk from there to the train station.  I picked up some snacks at the train station, and we soon boarded.  This is not a train.  It’s a glorified trolley car.  Yes, just one car.  That’s how remote the sanctuary is.  There are only two ways to get there: train or hike.  For many reasons, I chose the train.  I think I still need to do a little bit of walking or maybe take a bus or something once the train drops us off.  I don’t imagine the lodge is right at the train station.

Well, I’ll find out the situation once we get there.  Oh, also, when I got off of the plane at Cusco, an elevation of over 11,000 feet, it hit me like a ton of bricks.  I could barely breathe as I walked.  Now, it’s getting better, just a mild headache, but it was rough then.  Okay, so I got on the train, having an entire four-seater surrounding a table to myself, and updated my travel list.  When we left the station, I proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can enjoy the rest of this scenic train ride, which has been filled with sites of both natural and cultural heritage.

Machu Picchu, Peru

I was going to write that this was the most intriguing place I have ever smoked my 2013 Christmas Pipe, but the Drake Passage gives it a run for its money.  After rereading the entry from our crazy night on the Drake, I think that wins.  Machu Picchu is an honorable second.   Seoul and Alexandria do not compete.  I am in fucking Machu Picchu, possibly the most difficult of the New7 Wonders to reach.  Only Petra could compare in difficulty.  I am staring at a breathtaking view, relaxing on my hotel terrace, yes, relaxing.

After an arduous journey to the sanctuary, I can finally relax for the rest of the evening.  I never have time to relax on these trips.  Tonight, I can.  After I closed on the train, we soon arrived at the Machu Picchu train station.  It was raining.  Small problem.  The buses from the train station to the sanctuary lodge don’t run all night.  In fact, the last bus was in ten minutes, and it was certainly too far to walk, especially with all my luggage, especially in the rain, especially with my recovering foot.

There was a greeter from the hotel, and he rushed me to the bus, and we got my bus ticket.  He mentioned something about getting a ticket for the sanctuary.  I figured I could get it at the hotel.  I figured wrong.  The bus ride up the mountain to the lodge was breathtaking.  It was a winding, 25-minute ride that went almost straight up.

We were soon at the hotel, and I went to check in.  Again, they asked me if I had a ticket to the sanctuary.  I said that I didn’t, they would have to charge me for one.  No, that wasn’t an option apparently.  The sanctuary opened at 6 AM, and I wanted to be there right at opening to avoid the crowds.  I’d just have to buy the ticket at the entrance in the morning then.  No, that wasn’t an option, either.   They only sell the tickets back in town.  They said they had to wait in the morning for the manager to call in an authorization.  It would be 8 AM before I got a ticket.

I almost lost it.  The whole fucking reason I chose this hotel was to be in the sanctuary, so that I could be there right at opening and maximize my available time in the sanctuary.  I expressed my frustration to the receptionist, and he said he’d see what he could do.  He said that it was very unusual for someone to arrive here without the ticket, as they usually know to buy it before they come up to the lodge.  My readers will recall a similar experience my parents had on this very continent a year ago this very month.  Lesson: do your homework and secure all the paperwork you need BEFORE you arrive.

He took me up to my room and said he’d see what he could do.  He also invited me to partake in the afternoon tea that was being served.  That, dinner, and breakfast was included in my stay.  There will be a drink service shortly, so I’ll do that when I finish my pipe.  I went to afternoon tea, which had an impressive spread, which I counted as my first Official meal in Peru.  It was actually my first Official anything in Peru, as I had been in transit since the moment I landed in Lima.  I started to announce, “63,” but then I realized I hadn’t had a Cuban yet, so it wasn’t Official yet.  I enjoyed a single plate of food, along with a pot of Earl Grey tea.  The receptionist soon came with an authorization code that would allow me to get a ticket printed at the gate. Perfect.  I messaged back and forth with my friend about her job hunt while I enjoyed my afternoon tea.

Afterwards, I went back to my room and changed into casual clothes and made it Official, though the cigar was still pending before I could say “63.”  I grabbed my computer bag and headed to the terrace, exploring a little to find the perfect vista for my entry.  I found it.  I also ordered a local beer.  I sat down in the comfy chair with a wondrous mountain view, where I proceeded to write this, which I will now close so that I can get on with my evening.  The journey to the sanctuary is complete, and I will head down tomorrow morning to view the sanctuary.  Until then, tonight, I relax for once.