peru: part two of two - - and the ultimate finale to trip.

(pretty sure this is a mighty long one, so i apologize in advance. just see it as the season finale, the hour-long).

so on the boat to the floating islands, paul, my fellow canadian, and i pretty much bonded due to joint hilarity over the insane old american guy that kept talking to us. in explanation of him, i can do no justice to his hilarity and insanity, so i shall not even attempt. anyway, the islands are continuously built of layer upon layer of totora reeds, so they float. from what i remember, about 300 people are living on the lot of them. and they're not on the map, since they can't always be found in the same place. and they were built to escape the incas. and that's all i know. they're pretty intriguing, but so touristy it made me a little sick. "compra, compra, amiga" (buy, buy, friend) was a common phrase and i would just smile and shake my head "no thanks", while i died inside a little. i hate watching people get degraded to this through tourism. apparently the people of these islands are nearly completely dependent on it now. o, how genuine. they were selling loads of crafts and i asked what the things meant and that got me nowhere.

"what does this mean?"
"eagle."
"yes, clearly, but what does it mmeeaannn? what does it represent?"
"it's a representation of a bird. of an eagle"
"yes, but... nevermind..."

so perhaps there was absolutely no significance to these supposed symbols. in which case, i'm even more saddened. their boats were pretty cool though- enormous and bulbous and funny-looking, made of reeds, appearing like straw warrior boats. rowed awkwardly by two struggling little girls in bright, puffy skirts.

paul and i later wandered the markets and ate random things. he would call set-menus by their amounts, so it became a code. there were the uno-cincuentas (1.50s= ~fifty cents) and dos-cincuentas (2.50s= ~eighty-five cents), etc... which became kindof funny in sentences like "i've had a little too many dos-cincuentas in me lately, i even went as far as to eat an uno-cincuenta, but that was pushing it. i'm ready to splurge, maybe get some diez (10) in me." it made me laugh.

then off to cuzco. i took the day bus because i was getting bored so i was happy to waste a day, plus people had told me that the ride from puno to cuzco was lovely and it was worth seven hours of daylight in order to see it. they lied. on the bus, i was placed beside a german i had met months earlier in argentina. random. so with her two cute english friends, we shacked up together and went to sup in style that eve, and later hit up a cute, intimate bar with live music called km0. cuzco is beautiful in the day, but triplefold charming in the night, with old colonial buildings romantically lit with old-school streetlamps, cobblestone streets that ascend (and therefore also descend) at ridiculous angles. beautiful, enormous, perfectly lit fountains, and gigantic plazas.

i loved the owners of the hostel. so over the next two weeks, with my in-and-out visits to cuzco while exploring the surrounding area, i continuously returned to the hostel whose name i cannot pronounce, despite zero social life beyond speaking with the sweet family that ran the place. one time, i walked in and it smelled like chocolate. i inquired and she told me she was making hot chocolate with cinnamon. two minutes later, there was a knock at my door and she had brought me a cup. it sounds stupid, but i was so touched. random act of kindness. delicious kindness.

the van that was to deliver me to the bus for the machu picchu trek was an hour late. which would not have bothered me had i not grudgingly awoken at 5:30am to be ready on time. the bus ride to the trailhead was a gooorgeous sight of winding roads on foggy mountains. i was sitting beside paolo, the hilarious and kinda dumb brazilian. he took a million photos of fog. this guy wears his hat half off his head, his backpack with one strap on, the other at his elbow, has a dopey, lopsided grin on his face half his life, is always bluntly yelling everything and giggling foolishly and walking like a bear... and on top of that, has the brazilian accent. which is ridiculous. this guy is hilarious.

so the bus stops, we get out and we bike for a few hours in pouring rain. it was scary and beautiful and very, very muddy. people's bikes broke multiple times. just adds to the adventure, right?... that eve, our big group had some beers and ate a good meal and attempted to slowly share the single shower, one by one. our clothes were still drenched in the morning. so comfy and appealing. our group was funny, full of the argentinians and the brazilian who needed to translate through me to the polish and the russians and the maltese. random and interesting assortment- i rarely meet any of those nationalities while travelling, save argentinians. i loved my group.

next day and a half was jungle trekking, though not as exotic as it sounds, especially while one third of time was spent walking on a road. but it was beautiful, and we even got a taste of the famous "inca trail". overrated. we had to cross two rivers without bridges, therefore taking little baskets strapped to wires via pulleys. that was pretty exciting. slightly terrifying due to the lack of reinforcement (i.e. only ONE wire, and no emergency option). we also went to a hot springs place, which was far less natural than expected, but actually kinda high-class, which felt good, i'm not going to lie. the last three hours of "trekking" was along railroad tracks which were unanimously voted as incredibly annoying. you get into this trance, trying to reach each oddly spaced bar of the track... you pay no attention to your surroundings and you get so frustrated with the spacing! why can't they be even?!

anyway. then we arrived in aguas calientes, the town at which one bases themself for machu picchu. very, very touristy. which was to be expected. but i must say, i found it actually a little charming.

i kindof expected machu picchu to shock me a little more, i think. yes, it was beautiful. but like everything hyped up, there is little chance of it actually meeting the high expectations that are then formed around it. but to concentrate on its beauty instead of its let-down...
the mountains were lovely- shooting straight from the ground, appropriately bullet-shaped. machu picchu was built there to escape the spanish, they believe, since it is entirely surrounded by high mountains. the rocks of the ruins were so smooth and perfect, oftentimes having been shaped to fit every curve of adjoining stone, which is amazing considering the size of them (up to 3m at times). it almost looked fake in its perfection. there was only one major spot that was "imperfect", with stones that had been manipulated over time. the bright green grass contrasted lovely with light and dark grey rock. lovely repetition of buildings and windows and terraced fields and triangular, roofless home-tops. we came at a perfect time too. we left our rooms at 4:30am to hike up for the 6am opening, and from the time we arrived to about 8, the sun slowly made it over the mountains, constantly changing the light and shadows for a few hours. streaming through, breaking up the organic landscape all linear-like. it was gorgeous, tranquil, pure. casting long shadows over smooth, sun-touched bricks. and llamas. lots n lots of appropriately placed llamas. it was fun taking artsy photos.

i never know what to believe regarding things "they say". how do they know?! i would be interested to know of their methods. how did they know the inca's plans? (p.s. technically it's the quechuas, the Inca was the king of the quechuas... but no one actually says that, so i'm not about to start). why they built it there? how they made things?? all entirely speculation, it seems.

bart and i climbed huaynupicchu, that mountain directly behind the main ruins in all the photos. there are ruins at the top of huaynu, as well. on the way up, you can view the stunning gorge below. at the top, we had a silly and fun photo shoot of ourselves. the ruins look so different from huaynu. much more rigid and boring and less complex and, well, ugly. at the top of the spot where one might take a good photo of machu picchu, on the opposite side of said ugly photo spot, i fell, exhausted, in the grass, and took a nap. after which, i ended my machu picchu experience.

back in cuzco, i investigated festivals. i prepared for the senor de q'ollority festival in some mountains somewhat far away. in the meantime, i saw some really great art randomly at a local art museum. i also went to the plethora of veg restaurants around town, many frequented by only locals. one time, this guy sat with me. he told me i had pretty eyes, said something about canadians flying, then left laughing for a half hour with his friends. then an old man came in with a down syndrome teenager and the man yelled a blunt hello at me then proceeded to stare equally bluntly, commenting in impossibly fast spanish every so often. then his teen started talking to me, equally incomprehensibly, blowing me kisses and doing some gang-like, "shortie you ma gurl" hand motions between me and his heart. it was all terribly confusing and entertaining, and the waitress was rolling her eyes in the corner.

for the senor de q'ollority festivites, i had to first take a bus to four hours away, then walk a few hours at vveeery high altitude (4800m), unacclimatized, up a mountain to reach the grounds. at first no one smiled at me, just gawked or gave a growl of a stare. then as i chatted with three peruvians, i got hellos and smiles and "how you doin"s. i don't remember what it was exactly, but at one point i felt so happy that i could explode. i believe it had something to do with laughing with someone i didn't think i'd laugh with. the lady i was chatting with gave me coca leaves which helped immensely with my "i feel like i'm gonna vomit and i can barely move" feeling (altitude sickness). there was a band that i would pass, and they would pass me, and we would continue in this manner. at one point, i passed and a band member yelled "oh no! cameron diaz, igualito, nada mas." ("oh no, exactly like cameron diaz, no more discussion"), which made me laugh and smile real hard, and shake my head in disaccord. the scenery could barely be more gorgeous, especially topped off with amazing, colourful local dress.

so this was a pilgrimage, everyone walking some kilometres, bands from every village too (how do the brass and woodwinds breathe?! i'm so impressed!!), bands stopping at each costumed cross and playing, and an enormous celebration at the end, in a "village" of just a church! the "village" is used just once every year. amazing.

i met oscar on the way, from puno. we set up camp side-by-side as a "pablito" hit on me, telling me he'd join me in my tent later that night and not allowing his friend to shake my hand. they're kindof like clowns. dirty clowns that should stay far away from children. in the festivities was soooo much dancing! oh, synchronization!! troupe after troupe. loved the costumes and smoky snow-cap background. if you left your hat on when the troupe was bowing and praying to the cross, the pablitos could hit you! they sell whips of all sizes, so anyone can whip you for any fairly reasonable reason. i didn't believe oscar until i saw them doing it. there's even a dance when the furry-pants, creepy-moustache-masked pablitos bounce around and whip each other while everyone watches, then a beardface with a hat and a hairy costume man break them up, they hook their arms round the other's neck, dance forward, then back, and it repeats with another two. it is so bizarre. and oscar didn't help enlighten the situation. he explained everything in useless, circular logic. i received no better an explanation than the floating island man regarding the eagle.

"who are those guys representing?"
"pablitos"
"who are they?"
"they protect the mountains"
"why?"
"because they're pablitos".
... fair enough.

no one ever looked that happy when they were dancing unless something funny, even if morbidly funny, occured- not those dancing, not those watching. they floated a small, hot-air-balloon-like thing into the night sky with a huge candle inside and it ended up catching fire and making a fiery, quickly accelerating descent to the ground, atop someone's stuff, which then caught fire. everyone was laughing hysterically. monsters. (myself included). (actually, i'm pretty sure the owner of the stuff included, too).

within the ceremonies is this thing where you can buy mini houses and cars and money bills and diplomas and then give it to the church, with a prayer that you will have the thing you sacrificed, though life-size. they say if you have faith in god, it will materialize. i say: displaced faith. if it was rather faith in their ability to achieve said things, maybe then it would happen, too. religion can be an intriguing, silly, magical thing- people need to put faith in other things, rather than themselves. do what i takes, i guess. (and i know there's more to faith and religion, just... in this case, that's what i have to say...).

at one point, we tried to cross a line of dancers because there was no other way to get across. i passed first and i got my headache back because i was holding my breath and super stressed in the crossing. everyone pushed and shoved and yelled and some guy ripped my hat off. violent! at least i didn't get whipped.

my head was pounding up there and i felt incredibly light-headed. i made it til 6:50pm then had to go to bed. not that that helped- worst sleep eeevveer. sleeping bag wet, feet bare and freezing (i awoke to frost on the ground and i WAS, in fact, sleeping beside snow caps), head pounding (though thank goodness not the shrieking of the potosi headache). i was groaning, tossing and turning the whole night through.

luckily it took only two hours, as opposed to three and a half, to get back down the mountains the next morning. the locals were dressed so brightly, i loved it. they have these crazy, inexplicable, huge, flat, adorned hats and ENORMOUS skirts. think fifties poodle skirts, doublefold. at the end of the walk, i met hilarious manuel, and after four minutes chatting, he offered me a ride to cuzco with his friends. i was fasting incase i was seeing a shaman the next day, so i sat and talked while the three of them ate lunch in town. manuel told me i was going to go back and tell my friends how nice peruvians are- while i sit and drink water, they allow me to watch them eat, to see how peruvians eat, how kind. he was so funny. he also said that the indigenous ladies wear thirty layers of skirt (i don't doubt it, they're enormous) in order to restrict their waists, like a corset. the only one that enjoys this though is the one who sees them naked, since the thirty layers make them appear huge. on the drive back, there were a million village folk begging on the side of the road, since apparently some people throw bread and oranges from bus windows for them. manuel started yelling about how village folk are all sex machines, they beg all day and "work" all night, and this (the kids on the road) is what they produce.

in the cuzco area of peru, they often dress a few little kids up all cute and traditional and give them small puppies or goats to hold, and they walk around asking for money. had you seen this randomly in a village, it would be the cutest thing in the world, but as it is, i think it is one of the more manipulative things i've seen as a money-grab. it is so incredibly fake. plus child labour. not that child labour is abnormal in latinamerica.

back in cuzco, i tried to enjoy the corpus cristi celebrations. they were quite colourful, but also very christian and very slow and very rigid and i therefore became very bored. in a restaurant, some guy sat with me that i didn't particularly want to sit with me, and then a drunk fell through the front window of the resto, which was followed by a public beating by the police. i also got a very slow, three dollar pedicure and then admired my toenails all day.

i visited pisac, in the sacred valley. it was a magnificent area of rivers and soft green mountains. at pisac, there are thousands of impossibly straight terraced fields lining the mountaintop- very beautiful. they look like someone just dragged a comb across the steep mountainface. i couldn't find the trail to reach the top and was feeling extremely lazy and didn't want to pay the entrance fee for the ruin, so i just looked at the work from below. off to ayacucho that evening.

twenty three hours later, i arrived and met hugo, the hostel owner who developed a huge crush on me. the next day, i visited a forest of puyas de raimondi (trees) near titancayocc. these are adorable little trees that develop miraculously after a certain altitude and reminded me of pompoms on fat sticks. they looks tiny from far away, but up close were actually quite tall and very fat. they made me happy because they were so cute and dr.seussy. whether the squished, back-breaking 4-hour journey was worth it is still under debate...

plus, at the beginning of the trip i got incredibly pissed- i finally snapped. this lady "recruited" me for her bus after i asked her three times if she was the next bus to leave. she confirmed thrice, and so i boarded the glorified minivan. since i didn't plan on staying in that town for the eve and the bus ride was so long and everyone had given me wrong directions to the bus station, so i was already very late and i needed to be back by night, i was very frustrated when the bus next to us asked if anyone wanted to join the one that was leaving first. (i didn't make it into that group in the end). i got all frustrated with latinamerica, since this isn't the first time for this to happen, but it's the first time that i actually cared. for one, we left an HOUR after the lady told me we were leaving "right now, right now, don't worry". secondly, why don't they make a fucking schedule- or at least an order- for the fuckin buses so that when one fills, it can LEAVE and another can fill?!? MUCH more effective and less fighting and less bad feelings than this stupid fight for passengers. the passengers that arrive first, leave first. makes perfect sense. bah. i missed the order in my life and i was in an overly fragile mood. back at my hostel that night, i drank some beers with the hostel owner and his hilarious friend and strangely sexual, but harmless because senile, dad and then missed the open hours of all restaurants serving anything remotely vegetarian.

my plan the next day was to eat the local vegetarian food i had heard about (i was very excited about this), quickly hit quinua, then wari, and be off to ica that evening. after acquiring a bus ticket, on the way to eat, an older man in cowboy hat and boots and flamboyant top sent me an english hello. ohhh boy, not again. i was slightly rude- said hello and walked quickly past as he asked me questions. i answered the fundamentals (the questions i've been asked a million times in the past year) with my back to him as i continued to the restaurant. i thought that would be the end of it.

ten minutes later, after i had ordered my japchi lunch, cowboy man (name is shanty) and his daughter came up and sat with me. o god. i still gave him half a cold shoulder because i was simply sick of latin men and their stupid games. we did end up discussing spiritual hallucinogenics of all sorts, though, and by the end of the lunch he convinced me to allow him and his daughter to join me on my day voyage to quinua and wari. the japchi was delicious.

on the way to the bus, i decided that i wanted to try san pedro, the hallucinogenic cactus made famous in mexico. so we just went to his house and did it, and chilled. they had this open-air, compound-like house that was sooo neat. shanty was growing cacti (some that make you feel funny) and fuschia vines, beautiful art and posters everywhere, all in a beautiful courtyard, it was a gorgeous spot. right before we did it, i got all worried that we wouldn't be back in time for my bus to ica, and i'd be all high and hallucinating there were eagles on all my transportation, so we decided to nix the quinua and wari trip. mama quilla, his daughter, wasn't happy about this; she really wanted to ride the ponies.

the san pedro ended up having next to no effect on me. shanty was feeling it, but all i felt was ever-so-slightly loopy when i walked (that i'm not entirely convinced wasn't just my head making it up), despite upping the administration three times. shanty was shocked that nothing was happening to me- this had never happened before. i thought that my body was fighting it, he thought that it just wasn't the drug for me, or that i wasn't from his culture, so maybe i couldn't identify the effects, and my dad thinks my mind is rejecting it, rejecting anything that isn't the truth, then played with my ego by telling me that gurus don't get any effects from hallucinogenics either, because they don't want to be removed from reality. so whatever the reason... there were no effects on me. i was pretty excited about having some spiritual experience, but i guess it wasn't meant to be.

so shanty and i discussed pachamama (mother earth) and he told me all about the connections they make: earth is woman, sun is man, earth cannot live without sun, earth needs sun to give life to her seeds (woman needs man to life to her seeds). it was all very interesting, and went more in depth than that. then he brought out the line "that's why men need to be on top- because the earth is below the sun", and that's when the connections may have went a little too far.

shanty had actually had mama quilla with a british lady seven years earlier, and had lived in england and new zealand for a very long time, as well as having visited many other countries, so we had extensive talks on the differences between south american culture and "western" culture as a whole. it was nice to meet someone that had experienced both the cultures so thoroughly. he seemed very torn on which he liked more, as if he had to decide which was "better", while i kept insisting that they're just different, neither being above the other. neither is right or wrong.

we ended up going to a festival up the hill. i wasn't intending on drinking at all, but then all these local ladies kept making me drink beer and shots (it's pretty rude not to accept), so then... i drank. they're funny in this lil village (and possibly all of peru, i don't know if this is normal for all)- they pour the beer into one glass and one person DOWNS the whole glass in the fastest chug i have ever seen, no one actually enjoying the beer, but rather getting it over with as quickly as possible, and then they pass the glass to the next person. i cannot drink beer quickly, the bubbles burn my throat and hurt and it's all incredibly unpleasant, so the cycle slowed to a snail's pace whenever it reached my turn. i was a complete spectacle in this little place- everyone stared and laughed and pointed, whistled, hollered, and it got to me a little more than any other time, so i didn't want to draw even more attention by dancing. this got me in trouble, as i was unknowingly asked by the mayor to dance, and in not doing so, i apparently insulted the whole village. oops. but as people became nicer and more welcoming (possibly due to becoming drunker), i loosened up and danced and talked more.

and then the drunks commenced. one after the other, approaching me as if in single file, myself straight-out rejecting each one, though some continued to persist. that was entertaining. there was a ring of pretty sober guys at my side that would always protect me from the really persistent ones. i would just give them a look and they'd open up the circle and form a bubble around me. i felt the love. it was fun, everyone was really nice, and the drunks were harmless, though more aggressive than salasaca.

then came the bullfights. they were terrible. unlike a normal, still terrible, bullfight, in this village the bull is let loose and whoever wants to enter the "ring" (an open field- we are separated from bull by a raised surface that it can easily ascend by the slope on the left side) may do so. not a fair fight whatsoever since the humans had all the control by having the bull roped by the horns and they'd pull it away from the people if it got too close. they would taunt it, throw things at it. the bull would get caught in the rope, wrapping itself multiple times and eventually tripping and falling- once, one fell down a hill. it made me so upset, i was nearly in tears. some times it even went so far that locals disapproved- that's when you know it's really inhumane! luckily, two bulls speared some stupid drunks, so i felt better that at least they got back at them a little. there were also three times when the bulls got up into the stands (they found the slope on the left) and all hell broke loose, and it oftentimes escaped from the grips of the rope-holders and went running off down the road. that's the only time i cheered.

so on the third time the bulls got into the crowd, shanty demanded that we leave. it finally felt unsafe for him. i gave his daughter a piggyback home and this SEVEN year old felt like air compared to my backpack. i ran with her and it felt like she wasn't even there. shanty was amazed while telling me that mama quilla was in fact twenty-five kilos. we went to a quaint pub and shanty commented on the attention i received from all the men at the festival. i told him that that's why i ignored him when he first talked to me that morning- i get that attention all the time; if i acknowledged it all, i'd go insane. it felt good to finally explain to a guy why i'm such a bitch now.

we finally ventured back to their "compound" and i was feeling good, having fun, and laughing like mad with mama quilla, so i agreed to have shanty change my bus ticket to the next night. while he went off to change it, i tried to fly mama quilla on my feet and we always toppled over in hysterics. i told her i smelled bad and so she tried to smell my armpits. at first i wouldn't let her, but then i gave up the fight and told her on the count of three i'd lift my arm, and we did that about five times, ending, inevitably, in laughing until we cried. it was all so funny and ridiculous. then we made some drawings and i taught her to draw what she actually saw instead of what she thought she saw (like two eyes on a side profile of a face, like kids normally do). she still made the white-as-snow virgin's face pink, but conditioning takes awhile to undo. i slept in the bare spare bedroom on the floor with a ridiculously comfy duvet.

the next morn, after shanty went to work and mama went to school, i went to quinua and wari, the previous day's actual plans. both spots were unbelievably peaceful and the villagers were sooo friendly- i was never alone. quinua wasn't incredibly interesting, and it appeared to be entirely deserted, but i went to some war memorial thing on a hill and got a lovely view of the surrounding area. the highlight was probably the bus ride to wari, in which i was questioned by about seven incredibly sweet locals. we laughed and laughed, i enjoyed it. the elderly woman sitting beside me just rested her hand on my leg... for some reason, it didn't feel weird at all, it actually made me feel really... accepted. all warm n fuzzy inside.

wari is some sort of ruin (clearly the history behind these things means nothing to me) surrounded by the most cacti i have ever seen in one place. i LOVED it, it was gorgeous! i used to really dislike cacti because i associated them with those cheesy mini-cacti that really bother me for some reason, but now i love love love them. i stole a few cactus fruit and obviously stabbed myself with all the spines, despite my best efforts. there were tons of trails so i just walked and walked, having no idea where it was leading me. and it was, in fact, leading me nowhere. what a gorgeous field of cacti, though. the people on the bus from wari to ayacucho were really friendly, too. so if you take into account all the people i met in the ayacucho area, i would have to say that they're probably the most open and friendly that i experienced in all of peru, and that says a lot, since peruvians are very open and friendly in general. on this last bus, they told me to sit in the back- i was so skinny, i could fit through! they called me skinny. i was shocked and loved them immediately. i was off to huacachina that night.

i had already been to huacachina, but since i simply partook in a series of drunken nights, i never actually did what you're supposed to do there- sandboarding. so i returned. the hostel that took me on the trip allowed me to stay at their pool all day, which was lovely. i made friends with a parrot. i saw the "senor del desierto", julio cesar, that i met the last time. the sandboarding was great fun! you go in dune buggies and that's rather thrilling. the buggy would approach what we thought was our "stop" on the top of a mountain, then cross the point and DROP down the side of the nearly vertical dune face. it was terrifying in a fun, theme park kindof way. being in the middle of the desert was so gorgeous and serene, undulating waves of sand everywhere you look. most people, including myself, were really bad sandboarders, which led to loads of laughter. the most fun was going down on your stomach, which was out of control and scared the shit out of me and i ended up crashing at the end and entertaining sand in every possible crevice. good times. we saw the sun set in the coolest descent of the sun that i have ever seen- it was just hazy enough that the neon pink sun could be seen as a perfect circle slowly ducking behind the far-away mountains, no distortion and you could look straight at it. gorgeous.

then to lima. met a nice canadian with whom i shopped for the day and envied for her flight the next day. for months now, i would get this flutter in my heart everytime i saw a plane, yearning for my flight to come as quickly as possible, dreaming of that exciting airport feeling. then i was off to huaraz, a freezing but insanely gorgeous mountain town north of lima.

i was recommended a cheap hostel and it ended up being really homely and fantastic. the staff were superbly friendly. one french guy that lived in the hostel ran trekking tours and he gave me tons of information about the santa cruz trek i wanted to do. no one was joining me, so i did it alone, as usual. he rented me a tent and gave me his map and gloves and stuff for free. very sweet of him. i bought food, packed, and left the next morning.

i had an interesting time that morning, attempting to arrive at cashapampa, the trailhead. for one, i told the guy to wake me up at the hostel, and he didn't, but magically my alarm actually woke me up for the first time in months. then, the guys at the bus stop told me that the bus that appeared to be mine was not mine. they lied and i had to catch the next one. then, my new bus driver HIT a schoolgirl on the street! we had to wait at the hospital while she got checked out. then, an old lady on the next bus sat beside me. she was missing an eye, with watery blood dripping from the socket and an inch of crusty blood on the side of her nose. i just felt sorry for her, while the kid sitting across from her blatantly stared with mouth-agape, wide-eyed horror. then, the taxi to cashapampa had three in the front, four in the back, and i heard a noise in the very rear- turned to find a lady and her child in with the luggage. then that taxi got held up because a transport truck couldn't move past one part of a road. so they built a stick "bridge" over the side of the river and everyone passed over. i was impressed. and then i finally arrived. far past my arrival time, but had an interesting time nonetheless.

i had a really rough time at the beginning of the trek. i wasn't really into it. by this point in my trip, i really just wanted to chill on a beach and do nothing, but i had heard such good things about trekking near huaraz that i knew i couldn't leave peru without seeing it. but i was essentially forcing myself and that's never fun. so it was a lazy hike. but somehow i still ended up being way ahead of schedule, despite all the delays in arriving at the trailhead, and so i passed the campsite everyone stays at and ended up in a field with two horses, all alone. but it was very peaceful. the first day's hike, from cashapampa to the third camp, was far from spectacular, except the tiny sneak peak i got of some hazy snow caps in the distance.

next day i hiked to taullipampa, including a detour to the lake hidden in a ring of mountain. it was really lovely. day two was quite lovely, and the snow on the mountains behind the lake was so white that it nearly blended in with the sky. if majestic blankets exist, it looked like a majestic blanket covered the top. i was a better hiker that day. the taullipampa camp has a gorgeous view of this beautiful mountain- the best camp i had on that trek.

the next day was a long day, accidentally arriving at the final camp- vaqueria- a day early. involved a gruelling ascent to the punta union pass at 4750m, then a long descent through gorgeous scenery. the ascent was really lovely, though fairly tough. the descent was hard on my knees, but some really lovely and different areas, and i passed through a few villages full of children wanting candy. there were trees along the way that were unlike any tree i have ever seen- they appeared to be covered in small swatches of crepe paper. so delicate and bizarre. at one point, i sat down for a rest and when i went to get up, i placed my hand directly in a mound of dog shit. i was so grossed out and i looked up to see a lady watching me. we laughed so hard and then walked and talked together, which felt nice.

i just kept walking and walking and eventually found myself at the end point. so, absolutely exhausted after ten hours of hiking, i set up tent on a trail. while doing so, a local approached me to offer me a room. i told her i might as well use my tent since i was paying for the rental, but i would buy breakfast from her the next morning. she helped me set up my tent near the road instead- cushy grass and muucchh more room, and returned back to her house. that was very sweet of her. she told me that this "village" was actually only about three to four families strong. that night was the first night that we did not receive rain, and the only night that i slept well. hilariously, the frenchman had told me that if i was REALLY unlucky, i would get one night of rain. not one did two of three nights rain, but i even got hail once. guess i was really outta luck. but i did finish a normally five-day hike in just three. that felt pretty good. many people say that huaraz mountains are the best in south america, but if the santa cruz trek is much of an indication of the area, i would surely have to beg to differ. while huaraz mountains may be the more impressive, in size and majesty, patagonian mountains are by far the most intriguing and interesting that i have ever seen.

in the morning i awoke to bright sunshine spilling over the mountains, illuminating bits and pieces of backing mountains. i turned to where i heard a brother and sister arguing and saw this gorgeous sight of shadowed mountain on which a brightly dressed indigenous girl was standing with her brightly dressed donkey, and a brilliant, glowing mountain behind her... i wish my camera was better because i took a really terrible picture, but it was one of the more gorgeous things i've seen on the entire trip.

i ate breakfast with the lady from the night before and we talked about books and how i was to trick the park entrance guys. before i left for the trek, my french roommate rima had warned me that if i didn't pretend that i was italian, i would have to pay an extra 70 soles or so to get out of the park. i am incapable of lying, so for the whole trek i would fret every eve about how the hell i was going to pull this off. i was so worried, but i didn't want to pay the ridiculously inflated exit fee, either.

i ended up taking the bus just to laguna 69. the descent down the mountain right before laguna 69 was STUNNING. unfortunately, that photo of the girl and her donkey was my last photo on the dear hp, because it then died. so i have no photos of the stunning descent, but oh my was it breathtaking. at laguna 69, i was so lazy that i just hiked for about an hour and then put down a blanket and collapsed in the sunny field. mmm. then i hiked back along the road, waiting for a ride. i was picked up by an empty "tourist bus". i blurted out my exit problem and the guy told me to just pretend to be asleep in the back and he'd get me through the exit without paying. well that was easy. after the park exit, i went up front with him and we chatted the whole way back. GORGEOUS ride and i asked the driver if this was normal for him, does he not find it particularly stunning. he agreed. i couldn't believe it. we tried to meet up for drinks that night, but we must've missed each other.

so rima and i got some beers and shared them round the hostel. we ended up chatting with portugese ricardo. hilariously, we all spoke spanish, which was not the first language of any of us. rima has the biggest camera i have EVER seen, and she wants to do a photo project/book on travellers she is fascinated with, so she requested a photo shoot with me. i begrudgingly consented and we ended up laughing hysterically by doing this peek-a-boo thing involved my feet and..... okay, hard to explain, but it was really funny and if that ever ends up in a book i'll laugh until i cry and cry and cry.

the next day i revelled in movie-watching and admired the mountains surrounding huaraz, took it easy. that night, i took the bus to lima with ricardo. he told me that he really didn't feel like doing anything in that city, and i told him that he was sure going to the right place- he won't be disappointed. there's nothing to do anyway, so even if he WANTED to do anything, he'd simply be outta luck. he couldn't be in a more perfect place. i disliked lima just as much the third time as i did the first and second. so i tried to go to "asia", a beach that had been recommended to me by many people. upon arrival, i found the place to be like a ghost town, i have never seen anything like it. incredibly touristy and developed, yet enttiiirely void of anything human. it was insane. apparently this wasn't the right time to hit the beach. plus it was super cloudy and gross. so i returned to lima. waste of time.

i randomly met ricardo again in lima. in fact, he was in my dorm room. so we spent the day together, roaming markets and peruvian chinatown and eating strange, squash-like, pasty fruits. we also randomly ended up at a fantastic exhibit on shamanisn, and some other art exhibits. what a lovely day.

then when ricardo left, polish eric took his place. we had such good fun- he was absolutely insane and super friendly and flamboyant and chatty and pure. i really enjoyed his company, we had many vegetarian meals together, and he was very entertaining.

i was sitting in lima in my final hours, awaiting my flight, when the city FINALLY got sunny, and WHAT a difference it made! i watched turtles trying to hump on the patio, and bite me. slowly. they were so intriguing. they looked like they'd been crying, wet cheeks, the both of them. i thought one was hurt. they took turns trying to mount each other. who's the male?? are they both males? can turtles mount on land? they just kept slipping off each other- slick shells repelling. that can't be right. i watched the turtles far too long.

and then... i got on my plane. the glorious expectation was fulfilled. i was experiencing serious GI issues and that ride was one of the most painful and uncomfortable eight hours of my LIFE... but at least i arrived home. i was in so much pain that i could barely eat, so i even wasted the plane food. i, shayla garland, wasted food- this is serious. that made me feel even worse. the family men in my life brought me a bouquet of flowers, which was lovely, we laughed for days, my mom made her famous and amazing macaroni and cheese. all so heavenly. i've never missed home so much and it was so good to be back. a lot of people told me that after a long trip, they're happy for a few days when they get home, then they get really depressed and want to be out travelling again. i guess this trip was really satisfying, and painfully long, because it has been two months and i'm still not itching to leave.

it feels good to be home. i'm so happy to have seen so many of you and it feels like nothing has changed, in a good way. thanks to those of you who have kept up through all of this- you don't know how much i appreciate your comments and just being able to share this with others. i realize it took a ridiculous sum of time and effort to keep up with the lengthy blogs, but i hope you enjoyed it at least a lil.

muucchh love,
shay.

and now, for the last random additions of this trip:

- i found that most spanish people don't even say "you're welcome", but when they do, it's generally "de nada". then, once in awhile, one might say the one i REALLY love: "por nada".
" thank you".
"oh, for nothing". i love it. so kind n genuine. always made me smile.

- shanty said that he thinks peruvians' brains are too small- they need to think bigger. this sounds like a terrible thing to say, but from what i have experienced, i may have to agree, to a degree. it's just that, through all of latinamerica, i had found it so hard to talk with them for a long period because there's nothing to relate to, to talk about, to expand on. they just don't think the same. most of my discussions are shallow, unless i meet the odd person who has a large, open mind, or has travelled. sure, you can find a million of the small-minded people at home, too, but i think, MAYBE, it's overrepresented down south. or, since i'm never in one place very long, maybe it's just because i haven't gotten into deep conversations with many people. that's why i never made this rude assumption earlier, but after hearing shanty say it, i considered that maybe i was right. MAYBE.

- i have seen this more times in the past year than i care to count: a wall containing nothing. surrounding a field of grass with no animals, just dirt and a large rock, etc. i'm sure it once had a purpose, or is temporarily on hold, but everytime i saw it, it made me laugh and maybe cock my head in wonder.

- i now agree that distance can do wonders for a relationship. distance can, as it does in its more literal form, put things in perspective. whether it's worth the obscene and agonizing pain of leaving your lover is still being debated, along with the "were the trees worth 8 hours of bumpy ride?" issue.

- thank goodness for digital cameras. can you imagine how much 5079 photos would have costed to develop? and that's not including the fotos that were deleted off the camera. jesus, maria y jose.
p.s. photos up at themillman.com/shayla-g

- i have never heard myself called "gringita" (lil gringo) more times on my trip than i did in peru.

- canadian men never get the hint that you want them. latin men take all things ANTI- and NON-hint, and either dispose of them, or completely modify to create MEGA-hint. so in the end, all men drive me insane.

- two weeks before the end of my trip, i realized that i did feel different than when i began. though this is a somewhat useless realization, since i had no idea in which way i felt different, i just knew that i did.

- a point that came up time and time again with travellers- they want to go home because they miss their bed. my response was always that i could last longer than average away from home because i hated my bed.
(though now, strangely, i've come to kinda like it.)

- llamas are the funniest, strangest animal. they're my new favourite because they make me laugh just looking at them. they're awkward and they're proud and they just don't care. plus one almost knocked an unknowing, photographing tourist right off machu picchu, so llama wins.

- "they speak portugese in portugal?!"- some girl i overheard in a chinese resto in cuzco. i had to try so hard not to laugh.

- i don't know if i said this before, but inca kola makes me laugh. it tastes like bubble gum. it is so funny. and soooo popular.

- in some ways, i don't think i have the formula for a very good traveller. i have absolutely ZERO attention span for history or politics, both of which help you better understand a people. i sometimes wish i could give a care. but in not being interested in that, i find myself more... personal. i want to meet singular people and try to make my ideas about them from those encounters alone. and i enjoy the more basic, human, inherent things, like how they communicate, and feel, and live, instead of getting complicated with politics and where they all came from. instead of learning so much, i tend to just... watch. witness. take it in without judgement. which oftentimes seems kindof silly and pointless... i think mmaayybe, in the end, i'm just learning in an unconscious way. building up examples of people and situations and...
i don't really know what i'm talking about.

- back in canada, i had the culture shock. strangely, i never get it when going to a new country, and always get it when returning to my home country. i had to adjust from the way things had been the past year, to the way it is now. like that hot water just COMES, constantly, consistently, and without electrocution. i don't have to wear flipflops in the shower. i can even have a BATH if i want (and i did)! there's toilet paper in all bathrooms, and i don't have to pay to use them. and not only is the t.p. free of charge, but it feels like angels sweetly kissing my bottom (i kid you not). i had to adjust to things being familiarly canadian. knowing where things are. things being available. wearing a seatbelt. cars being turned off at gas stations. people waiting for me to cross the road. streetside trashcans instead of the streetside full of trash and cans. i don't have to light the stove. i do have to tip. paying the same in tip as i would pay for an entire meal. things aren't constantly changing daily. polite people. knowing what day of the week it is. hell, knowing what month i'm in. being able to put hot things in the fridge without said action causing all loss of fridge cold. pretentious people. different keyboard. being around people that know me. not being seen as rich. not being asked where i'm from, what i do, how old i am, if i'm married, what my name is, and if i'd like to go out tonight. not being stared at by every man i pass. not being able to barter. not speaking spanish. being able to explain complicated things and know that the person i'm talking to more than likely understands me, rather than pretends to understand me.

and air conditioning. you never realize how ridiculous air conditioning is until you've lived without it for so long, and then re-experience it. the harsh change from hot and gross muggy to freeeezing cold is such a shock to the system, but we're so accustomed to it that we barely notice anymore. kinda ridiculous.

anyway. i think that's all i have to say. nothing mindblowing. there is more, i know it, but it hasn't surfaced yet, so i feel it's going to hide below the surface of my conscious for awhile. so with that, i bid you adieu.

now you have a good day.