I am pleased to announce my travel article, “On a Terrace in Peru,” is a finalist for the I Must Be Off! writing contest. It went live on the website today. The piece humorously captures my experience getting lost in translation while stranded on a third story terrace in Lima, Peru.
As a Top 10 Finalist, the essay is also eligible for a Readers’ Choice Award based on number of unique hits and comments.
Winners will be announced Sept. 30.
Have a good laugh on me today, and thanks for supporting my writing endeavors! Click the link below to read the article:
A genuine smile is a way I gauge a person’s sincerity and happiness. I’m usually smiling, as seen here in the mountains of Alaska…
One of the most rewarding lessons you can learn while traveling is the strength and beauty of friendships. Geography is no barrier to a bond between two people, be they friends, family or significant others. You’ll also learn when on the road how small this world really is. I was reminded of this recently when not one, but two people I met back in the Florida Keys pegged Alaska on their summer travel map, conveniently and coincidentally colliding with my Alaskan RV trip and now extended stay in the tundra wilderness.
Yesterday, I reunited with a past co-worker who has become a dear friend. He was in Anchorage for the day before leaving the following morning to begin a tour throughout this arctic landscape with his mom. Our initial greeting was filled with bear hugs, spazzing, playful punches and weird accents. What I love most about Raj is that, in addition to spawning spontaneous dance parties on the sidewalk or in art galleries, he also has deep, reflective moments in which he engages in meaningful conversation (albeit with his normal boring American accent).
While enjoying lunch at the acclaimed Snow City Café on the corner of 4th and L, Raj casually yet intentionally asked me to define happiness.
“Do you mean what does happiness mean to me, or what makes a person happy?” I said.
“Both,” he responded. “But more so a universal definition of the term.”
I chewed on an ice cube while marinating on the question for a minute.
“Happiness is,” I started, “enjoying the little things in life.” Then I corrected myself. “Well, maybe that only shows me that I’m happy, when I enjoy the little things in life.” Ruminating a bit longer, I continued. “It is a state of euphoria brought on by joyful events or moments in a person’s life.”
Or here on the sands of the Bahamas…
Raj has been asking his friends randomly to define this word, this feeling, this state of being. Initially, I thought the answer was simple. But as soon as I started with “happiness is…,” I knew I wouldn’t be content with the answer. Because happiness appears to be experienced differently by individuals. Certain things make one person happy but not another, and everyone responds to this emotion in a unique way. So how can there be an all-encompassing definition for this seemingly unique state of mind? We decided to consult Webster’s.
“Happiness is a state of being,” Raj read, “brought on by a positive, pleasurable or satisfying experience.”
“Hmm,” we murmured simultaneously. Neither of us was completely satisfied with Mr. Webster.
While trying to make a dent in his 10-inch blueberry pancakes, Raj piped in again. “I don’t think happiness can be achieved without friendships, or other people involved in your life. I don’t think you can be truly happy all alone.”
Even as a solo traveler, finding countless moments of pure bliss when it is just me and the sea, I agreed with him. While I often trot the globe by myself, I meet other people along the way. I talk to strangers on the bus, meet foreigners at the hostel, make new travel buddies on group tours. Are we ever fully, truly, completely alone? As social beings, wouldn’t we go crazy if we never ever interacted with a single person once we became capable of fending for ourselves? Extrovert or introvert, Raj and I were both in agreement that you need at least one other person in your life to experience this “happiness” state of being. It doesn’t have to be at that current moment you are feeling incredibly, immeasurably, ungodly happy, but I’m sure at least one person had a hand in helping you get to this gleeful stage in some way, somehow. Maybe that’s why we’re so drawn to love when evolution strictly says humans need only to reproduce to survive. (Raj and I are both zoologists. Science often gets the best of us.) So we added socialization to our definition of happiness.
Or here with my sisters in Austria…
Then I expanded upon the idea by returning to my life adage: simplicity is the key to happiness. Prior to immersing myself in a primitive living environment among the Quechua tribe (read more about this here), I had believed this to be true. I have been a nature-and-earth lover basically since I exited the womb, and technology often bogs me down. When I emerged from the Amazon in 2009, I left my heart behind. Eating dinner by candlelight, singing songs to combat the iTunes-barren workplace, and cooking with vegetables grown by the indigenous folk across the river, I felt free, relaxed and dare I say happy.
I also shared with Raj a story of my weeks building a school in Brazil. My team was there to offer an extra hand to the locals, not to question the way that they knew and had always done things. These Brazilians still mix cement by hand (a task I sweated over for hours causing me to milk sore biceps afterward). They stand on rickety chairs to lay bricks. (I have a scar on my leg to prove it.) But my goodness, are they happy. One member of our team was bothered by their slow, outdated methods of construction and his frustration came through. It made all of us uneasy. Why do we feel that those of us in the modern world have to impose our contemporary ways on others? Why are the indigenous viewed as lesser and uneducated? Maybe they’re the ones who have it all right.
Or here with one of the school children at the construction site in Brazil…
Raj and I agreed that if you live in a civilized world, it is impossible—yes, impossible—to escape from society. You can try to avert your eyes from magazine racks telling you how to look, or cover your ears from news stories that tell you the world is a dangerous place, or ignore those work emails that keep flooding in. I have never owned a TV and I have often lived without Internet, yet I have felt society creeping in on me. I have felt it pulling me away and I have feared drowning in it. When I don’t listen to society, I am at my happiest.
We decided that modern society sets impeccably high expectations for us to reach, and try as we might to ignore them, we can’t escape them, leaving a small void where complete happiness is difficult to attain. No, not impossible, because of course we have all been happy in this day and age. But maybe we could achieve an indelible joyful state of being if we took pleasure in the simplicities of life.
What is the difference between happiness and pleasure and success? They’re not interchangeable, but sometimes people like them to be. Raj and I like the idea that happiness is the little things in life, and friendships are important, and simplicity is key. It’s not the most succinct definition and I think we would be hard-pressed to come up with a universal definition that fit nicely on a page in Webster’s dictionary. But we’re working on it.
View of Turnagain Arm tributary from Bird Ridge. Note the mix of firs and spruces that give the Alaska air its delicious scent.
After 28 hours of a winding web of air travel from Peru to Alaska, I finally arrived in a land whose air I can’t stop sniffing. That’s right, I’m the girl locals see riding down the coastal bike trail with a smile on my face and my nose toward the sky. The air here smells, tastes, feels, sounds and looks fresh. Yes, you read correctly. I’m talking about air so crisp and clean you can see it. If you’ve never been to Alaska, you think I’m crazy. If you’ve visited this magical pocket of glaciers and evergreens far, far away, then you know what I mean when I say all five of your senses are on overdrive. And it’s absolutely magnificent.
My trip has yet to take off beyond the quaint margins of Anchorage, and still I’m already impressed. A friend I’ve known since gradeschool in Ohio happens to reside here and she has graciously offered me a place to stay, her bike, and numerous travel tips to begin my adventure. And soon, I’ll be setting off on an RV/camping road trip with my sister and her boyfriend’s family. But the past few days, I’ve enjoyed pedaling solo around Anchorage, sometimes directionally but more often aimlessly.
Landscape along the Tony Knowles coastal bike trail. Cottonwood is out for revenge at this time of year!
In a grid marked by numbered avenues and lettered streets, downtown Anchorage is by all intents and purposes, cute. Grizzly bear statues and local restaurants touting all things winter-related in their titles line the tiny streets. This is a city that feels like a town. Despite Juneau being the capital, Anchorage boasts Alaska’s largest population. Nearly half of the state’s inhabitants reside here, but with Alaska’s tally barely pushing 735,000, that’s not saying much. Thus, it comes as no surprise that rush hour and crowds are seemingly non-existent here. Anchorage is a place with the perks of city life without all the chaos. And a gorgeous landscape to boot.
My first day riding around, I stopped at a sandwich shop for lunch. (I must say, after 6 weeks in South America, the plethora of vegan options made me squeal inwardly with delight.) While chomping on a portabella mushroom concoction at Brown Bag Sandwich Co., I felt my chair wobbling. I looked up and the lights were shaking; even the street signs outside were moving.
“Looks like we’re having a tremor,” said a 30-year-old guy next to me.
“What? They have those here?” I said.
“Quite frequently,” he stated.
After experiencing the occasional tremor back in Lima, Peru, I was expecting to leave the “earthquake experience” behind. But a 5.8 on the Richter scale hit Anchorage, Alaska, launching me into discussion about all things Alaskan with a local guy at the local sandwich shop. Like many natives and transplants, he works for the oil company. He also loves to travel, so we swapped travel stories like travelers are prone to do, and I gleaned some advice for venturing out into the Alaskan wilderness. It was quickly becoming apparent how genuinely nice and dreamily happy people in Alaska are. I guess it’s not hard to do in the summer time when you have 20 hours of Vitamin D to keep you perky.
That evening, my Ohio friend and I enjoyed a steep but short hike to Bird Ridge overlooking a tributary called Turnagain Arm. I had my eyes peeled for beluga whales that pass through the waters. Though I didn’t see any, the view was expansive and so nature-filled I wanted to paint it right then and there. (If only I had good painting skills.)
The following day was spent on a 20-mile bike ride following the Tony Knowles Coastal Trail. It was there that I saw my first ever wild moose. I kid you not when I confess that I jumped off the bike upon my first encounter out of sheer excitement. I still had my wits about me, so worry not, but I took in the chomping calf and its brother with a mixture of awe and elation. For natives, seeing moose in Alaska is comparable to viewing deer in Ohio. They are plentiful and therefore locals have affected a nonchalant attitude toward their presence. But whatever, I still get excited when I see deer in the backyard. So naturally, I nearly wet my pants when I saw my first moose.
Moose calf, aka my new best friend.
In addition to the company of large mammals on my bike ride, I also met an old man who was visiting his son. A St. Louis denizen but born into Red Sox country, he was enjoying his last day in Anchorage before heading to Juneau. We stopped to watch a pheasant together. (I’m a sucker for wildlife, in case you’re slow to notice.) I passed him again on my return route and rode slowly next to him while we discussed books, hopes, dreams and hiking. While I still have to keep my common sense in check while traveling solo, I’ve learned that most people in this world mean you no harm. We only see the bad stuff reported on the news; this world really is a beautiful place. But I digress…
To wrap up my week, I met up with a friend I crossed paths with back in the Florida Keys a couple years back. She is traveling with her mom and sisters through Alaska and Canada. She had since moved to Maryland, while I’m still the girl with no address. And we reunited near tundra and polar bears—proof that it’s a small world after all.
It’s always more of an adventure when things go wrong. Off the top of my head, here’s an entertaining walk down memory lane of some mishaps on my travels over the years:
Peru:
I accidentally asked a waiter if I should “sentirme” instead of “sentarme,” the difference between “feel myself” and “seat myself.”
I got so cold one night in the mountains that I wore everything in my backpack, including a dress.
I got side-swiped by a car in Cusco in an alley too narrow for the flow of pedestrians and traffic. (It was the car’s fault, I swear.)
I got locked out on a third story terrace for 5 hours.
Portugal:
I took the road less traveled and came face to face with an 80-year-old nude man.
The rental car clerk refused to give me and some fellow solo backpackers the automatic car we had reserved online. So I learned to drive manual in Portugal.
Bahamas:
I thought “Boxing Day” was a holiday celebrating the sport of boxing. Historically, it was when servants were given presents on the day after Christmas. So, not even close.
Austria:
I fell off a T-bar ski lift in the Alps, subsequently blocking ski traffic.
Ecuador:
I got my ears pierced at the market, which in retrospect wasn’t the best place to do so, considering my right ear swelled up to the size of a golf ball.
I drank questionably treated water from a stream in the Amazon and brought home roundworm. (Minus 10 points for the Amazon.)
Brazil:
While helping build a school, I fell off a chair I was standing on and sliced my leg open on a rusty nail. There is a long scar on my thigh that offers me a fond reminder of my construction skills.
Texas:
I got stung by a scorpion while answering a phone call to an animal rescue hotline. I asked the caller to please call back.
I got a phone call from a deranged woman who thought a bear cub had taken refuge in her house. According to her, the bear was also racist.
I got a little too into my karaoke song and somehow bit the microphone.
The lids weren’t fastened well enough to the plastic garbage cans in the back of my pick-up truck and blew off on the highway.
Florida Keys:
While probing crevices for lobster, my tickle stick was ripped from my grasp by an octopus.
I cut my hand picking up a quartz crystal rock, resulting in 5 stitches. Whooooops.
I missed my entrance on stage for a performance of “Harvey.” Nurse Kelly was mysteriously absent from a hospital scene.
I got lost in the court scene in “A Few Good Men” during one night’s performance. When I realized my line was overdue, I tried to recover by shouting the words quickly. I sounded more like a gobbling turkey.
My BC started malfunctioning during a night dive, prompting me to swim half-drowning back to the boat and its inattentive captain.
The Mom jeans have traveled across the globe with me, debuting in South America, Europe and the Caribbean. But I don’t think this swan cares that my pants are too short and make me look like I have no butt.
I am 27 years old and nowhere close to being ready for motherhood, but somewhere along the way, I acquired a pair of Mom jeans. What makes a pair of jeans Mom jeans, you ask? Let me break it down for you.
They must be largely unflattering
The butt is saggy
There’s no hip hugging action
They are abhorrently straight-legged
They are likely too short (hello exposed ankles)
Now, I’m no fashion guru. I wear what I want when I want, and I rarely buy clothes. Sometimes I’m fashionable, sometimes I’m comfy, and sometimes I look like Sporty Spice shopping for a bag of beans at the grocery store. But if someone is willing to give me clothes for free, I say hurray for hand-me-downs! More savings for my travels! Luckily, I have a lot of girlfriends who excessively shop and so I get their hand-me-downs after the new purchase becomes outdated 3 months later. But Mom jeans? Seriously?
I acquired a pair of holey jeans from a friend recently. The kind that makes your father scorn, “Those jeans came like that?” or “You spent how much on jeans with holes in them?” Luckily, I can tell him both, “I actually got these jeans for free” and “These holes came with it and this one is the result of my tree climbing skills.” But those pants are packed up nicely in my home base back in the Bahamas. The only pair of jeans that came with me in my 15-gallon backpack to trek around Peru were my Mom jeans. Again, I ask, Mom jeans? Seriously?
Surprisingly, packing these jeans was a conscious decision, not a mistake. I have made 6 trips to Latin America, and I was immersed in the Cuban culture while I lived in the Florida Keys for 3 years. I know that you get whistled at, fawned over, harassed as a white female—a gringa—in a Latin American country. I love the culture, but I hate that part of it. Like really-want-to-scream-at-the-next-guy-who-hassles-me hate that part of it.
So I looked at the clothing options laid before me while packing for this trip on a whim. The holey jeans are much more trendy and flattering, while the Mom jeans border on warranting a call from the Fashion Police. But I didn’t want to attract any more attention by showing off my skin when I already stuck out as a white girl. I wasn’t traveling to impress anyone. In fact, I was taking off to spend some quality time with me. Any people I met along the way would surely not judge whether or not to strike up a conversation with me based on what pants I was wearing. Surely not. Silly world we live in.
I’ve learned that traveling buddies aren’t made by judging a book by its cover. Once-overs don’t really precede making new friends all the way across the globe. Someone takes the empty seat by you on a bus, you chit-chat, connect and that’s it. Easy peasy. Solo travelers, globetrotters, nomads, wanderers—we are kindred souls. There’s an instant, natural connection between people of different countries that meet in yet another country, people who share a common love of culture and nature and the unknown. It’s unexplainable, incomprehensible to anyone who hasn’t experienced it. They simply cannot understand how very real and true and beautiful these friendships are. But they exist, Mom jeans or not.
And so on the cold mornings when I button my Mom jeans in Peru, I don’t question how attractive my butt looks while I’m walking to the market. I make new friends. I walk with confidence, and that’s the most fashionable outfit a woman can wear.
The Mom jeans have even made appearances on stage, as seen here with my West Side Story dance troupe. (Mom jeans pictured far right.) Mom jeans photo credit: Kris Teague.
A lot of people have been contacting me for information about my recent trek to Machu Picchu. These ancient ruins are on many bucket lists, and after my hike, I can see why! For anyone looking to visit this picturesque region, I’ve written a “how-to” guide below. Leave a comment with any further questions and I’ll try my best to respond… if I’m traveling in an area with reliable Internet!
The ancient Inca ruins of Machu Picchu with Huayna Picchu mountain in the background.
FLIGHT
First, arrange a flight from Lima to Cusco. Cusco is the mountain town from which all hikes and trains to Machu Picchu embark. Peruvian, LAN, Avianca and Star airlines are currently options for the short hour-and-a-half flight. LAN has the most flights per day and so tends to be more expensive. Flights start at 5 AM and leave almost hourly through the evening, depending on the airline. Note that some airlines have a special price just for residents of Peru, so be aware that the cheapest might not be an option for you. Use Google search & Google translator for any clarification. Tripadvisor.com also has some helpful tips for understanding the different prices. As a general rule of thumb, airlines will offer a BASE, BASE PLUS, FLEXIBLE and FULL FLEXIBLE ticket. Foreigners want to get the BASE PLUS ticket. BASE is for Peruvians only and FLEXIBLE and FLEXIBLE PLUS are only necessary if you think there’s a chance you may be canceling or changing your flight. (If you book the super cheap BASE flight, you will be charged an extra $178.50 at the airport for booking a ticket you aren’t eligible for!)
You will have to take a taxi from the airport to your accommodation in Cusco. See if your hotel/hostel can arrange for a pick-up for you. They will be sure to book you with a safe driver and can suggest how much you will have to pay (usually around S./ 20). You would give the hotel your flight schedule and a driver will be waiting for you at the airport holding a sign with your name on it. Wait a few minutes if they aren’t there right away; sometimes traffic is heavy. Plus, you’re in Latin America where everyone is late.
ALTITUDE ACCLIMATION
Expect to spend 2 nights in Cusco prior to the start of your travels to Machu Picchu, whether you will be going via trek or train. Don’t think you’re superhuman and can beat the mountain! Altitude sickness can be very serious and affects even the healthiest and strongest of individuals. It is best prevented by staying and resting at a high altitude prior to exerting excessive physical activity at such elevations. You can also try chewing coca leaves during your climb. Coca tea is an option but it’s more of a touristy thing than a preventative. Ask a local for advice on how to chew the leaves–it’s quite an art. Headaches, shortness of breath and dizziness are all symptoms of altitude sickness. But you’ll be fine; just take it easy!
The city of Cusco lights up at night. Tour agencies line the streets jutting from the main plaza, called the Plaza de Armas.
CUSCO ACCOMODATION
For your nights in Cusco—usually 2 nights before the trip to Machu Picchu and one night after—there are numerous reliable sites online for booking. Try oyster.com or airbnb.com if you’re not into the hostel life. Oyster has great hotel reviews; Airbnb offers great ways to experience a quiet homestay with a local perspective! If you’re up for meeting lots of new people, try hostelworld.com or hostelbookers.com. Not all hostels are party hostels, and many places have all-female and private dorms available for all sorts of travelers! Hotels are also an option but I like to keep it cheap, sociable and local. Be sure to read reviews!
TREK
It is only necessary to book a trek online if you are planning on hiking the traditional Inca Trail, which needs to be booked 6 months in advance due to limited space and popularity. The Peruvian government recently reduced the number of people allowed to enter the trail each day to 500 persons, and the trail can ONLY be accessed under the supervision of a licensed travel agency. Some agencies don’t offer the Inca Trail hike because they don’t have the permit. The Inca Trail is more expensive than the alternative Salkantay and Lares treks as you need to pay for your own permit and, aforementioned, it is a more coveted hike than the others. However, the Salkantay is ranked by National Geographic as one of the top 25 hikes in the world. I hiked it and loved it! All of the hikes are challenging, but it makes your time at Machu Picchu incredibly rewarding. You worked for this; you deserve it! That kind of thing. The Inca Trail follows a path past numerous ruins leading up to the ultimate mega-ruin, Machu Picchu. The Salkantay and Lares take you through more landscapes and climate changes. The Salkantay covers more distance but does not reach as high of an elevation as the Lares (4680m vs 4900m).
We did it! At the highest altitude of the Salkantay trek, 4680 meters.
Prices vary greatly. Online prices for an agency will be double what you can haggle if you stop by the agency yourself once in Cusco. The Salkantay and Lares always have space available, though it is more competitive during busy season (our summer, their winter—June-August). The alternative treks run anywhere from $250-$450/person off the street (double online!), with the Inca Trail being closer to $600+. If you are booking in person like I did, BARGAIN BARGAIN BARGAIN. You will learn that everyone in your hiking group paid a different price, so don’t be the one who got ripped off! Also, be sure to research the tour agencies you stop at before booking anything. Does the tour include EVERYTHING or are there some things missing? Does the agency have a website? What kind of reviews does it have on Tripadvisor?
Treks range from 3-5 nights. The last night is spent in a hostel (typically pre-arranged by your tour agency) while the other nights are spent in tents. You can bring your own tent but most agencies provide them for you. Sleeping bags and walking sticks are available for rent from most agencies, too.
To begin your trip to Machu Picchu, you will fly from Lima, Peru’s coastal capital city, to the inland mountain city of Cusco. Machu Picchu and the town of Aguas Calientes are slightly north/northwest of Cusco and accessible by train.
Most agencies also provide all of your meals except breakfast on the first day and lunch and dinner on the last day; the meals will be included in your booking price. Ask about vegetarian and vegan options which are also available! If you book with a reliable group, they will also offer you snacks and hot tea throughout the trek. Water is best when boiled or bottled, though sterilization tablets can be purchased ahead of time. However, there are a lot of trace minerals that remain in the water once purified with these tablets, and the water might still upset your stomach. Again, reliable agencies will give you boiled water to pour into your bottle for the hike. You will pass through many small villages that also offer hikers bottled water and snacks, so bring extra soles (the Peruvian currency) for this.
It is important to clarify if you have to carry your large backpack or camping equipment most of the trip, or if mules (or sometimes porters) will carry it for you. Some people like the challenge of carrying 7+ kilos a minimum of 15 km/day up and down rocky, steep terrain. I, however, was content to have just my daypack strapped to my back!
Tour groups usually meet the evening prior to departure for a briefing. You should get picked up the morning of at your hostel or hotel accommodation. Expect to have early mornings—hiking begins between 4-6 AM each day! Transportation back to Cusco is usually included as well. The agency books your train from Aguas Calientes (the town you will spend the last night in at the base of Machu Picchu) to Ollantaytambo, and from there you will get on a “bus” (usually a white van referred to as a “colectivo”). Drivers are at the train station with signs that have your name on them. You just join up with them and hop on in!
Also remember you’ll have to tip the porters/horsemen, cook and guide when they leave you. How much is up to you, but most of the workers from the village rely solely on tips. Guides are usually on salary but worthy of a tip.
Peruvian currency is called the nuevo sol, or soles, and abbreviated S./ or PEN. US dollars are accepted and can be withdrawn from an ATM to limit conversion fees charged by your bank. National money exchangers wearing vests with badges are on the streets outside of banks; they can swap your USD for PEN or vice versa. Make sure you research the day’s exchange rate online if using both currencies.
CURRENCY
USD ($) are accepted by most tourist companies and restaurants throughout Peru. In fact, prices are often only listed in US dollars! However, have handy plenty of PEN (also abbreviated S./ and referred to as the Peruvian Nuevo sol, or plural soles). Smaller, local shops will not have a lot of change available either, so be sure to have a lot of 1, 2 and 5 PEN coins with you. You can break big bills at the grocery store or restaurants. In fact, always try to pay with bigger bills at these places as you will otherwise find yourself hard-pressed to obtain smaller currency! And remember, you’ll want to have Peruvian money with you along the way during your hike (breakfast on day 1, meals on the last day, tips for the tour staff, souvenirs, snacks, bottled water).
WHAT TO BRING
Regardless of the weather forecast, it is important to be prepared for rain, cold and heat. Peru is near the equator, too, so the UV is strong even on cloudy days! Remember, tour groups provide different things, so don’t rely solely on this list!
Every experience is different—weather, crowds, tour agency, agility. But here are some additional options to improve your once-in-a-lifetime Machu Picchu experience—so you can feel really good about checking it off your bucket list!
Trek prices include the entrance ticket to the Machu Picchu ruins only. Currently, 2500 people are allowed to enter the ruins each day. Ask your agency to add on Machu Picchu Mountain ($5) for the typical yet beautiful panoramic view looking down on the ruins. Huayna Picchu Mountain tickets are also available but limited in number (200 people between 7-11 AM, 200 people after 11 AM). This hike is very steep! Experienced climbers only!
The Salkantay and Lares can be hiked without a tour group if you fancy.
If you have time, stay a night in the village of Ollantaytambo on your way back from Machu Picchu. Tour agencies can accommodate you if you want your travel plans to veer slightly from their agenda. It is a quaint, quieter village in comparison to the touristy Aguas Calientes and Cusco.
View from Machu Picchu Mountain overlooking the ruins and Huayna Picchu Mountain. Another difficult hike, but short and well worth the view! Tickets to both mountains can be purchased in addition to the ruins.
Get a massage in Cusco after your hike! You will be annoyed at first by all the ladies on the street asking you if you want a massage, but when you finish your hike, you’ll understand why they’re hounding you! These ladies are typically reliable, but you can check with your hostel/hotel for a recommendation if you’re concerned. The massages are cheap and goooooooood!
Most tour groups take the bus from Aguas Calientes to Machu Picchu, which is included in the tour price, but the group disbands after your tour in the ruins. Hence, a return bus is not included but can be purchased at the park entrance for about S./40 one-way. Buses are always available and leave when filled with passengers. There is no time schedule. Buses start heading to the ruins from the bus station at 5:30 AM. If you’re not with a group, be sure to wake up early to beat the crowd and catch the sunrise!
It is possible to hike from Aguas Calientes to Machu Picchu, but the hike is largely on the road and you won’t be missing out on much if you choose to take the bus.
Some tours include a train ride at the end of the camping leg of the trip from Hydro Electric Station to Aguas Calientes. If you choose to walk, it takes about 2 hours and is worthwhile. But your legs might feel like jelly from walking downhill all day, and the train ride offers nice views as well. This part of the hike largely follows along the train tracks.
If you don’t want to do a hike, it is still recommended to acclimate as there is a fair amount of climbing at the ruins themselves. You would have to book a train from Cusco to Urubamba Valley/Aguas Calientes and book the train back to Cusco. It is possible to do Machu Picchu all in one day but I recommend staying overnight either in Aguas Calientes or Ollantaytambo. (If you stay in Ollantaytambo, you will need to book a separate train back to Cusco or catch a much cheaper “colectivo” bus back.) There are 3 train options available. The Expedition is the cheapest, most common and quite comfortable. The Vistadome is a step up from the Expedition, and the Hiram Bingham luxury train is outta this world fancy (and expensive).
Enjoying some quality solo time in the desert of Peru.
My morning routine doesn’t include eyeliner and mascara, my clothes don’t always match, my closet is a 15-gallon backpack, and my bedroom is often shared with strangers and bugs.
Yet I have never felt more confident, capable, empowered, and alive.
I am a solo woman traveler, and I believe my possibilities are endless.
Swansea, Wales sits along the country’s southwest coast, just over an hour from the capital. The city’s castle lies in ruins in front of a tall contemporary building, the stark contrast showing the modern day’s domination over medieval times.
Nobody goes to Wales, but the country deserves attention. Bilingual, with every sign in Welsh and English, I never once heard the native language spoken. Word on the street is that Welsh is only really spoken in the far north these days, and either way, it is a dying language. The country is quiet–even the city capital of Cardiff is relatively low-key. Ane and I stayed at hostels near the city center. We took a bus to Cardiff Bay one day, eating lunch at a local cafe on a boat. By chance, we came across a free viewing of a videotaped theatre performance. I enjoyed the simplicity of the script, but it was too slow-moving for Ane who fell asleep, in front of the theatre company director. Back-to-Back Theatre chooses innovative stage settings, always public places such as a train station where this particular one took place. Audience members sit in bleachers with headphones to hear the actors, but sometimes never see them among the hustling and bustling oblivoius crowd until the final bow. The themes of the theatre works focus on the political and social issues surrounding persons with disabilities.
Ane and I desperately needed a night of karaoke and were lucky enough to find a bar hosting a competition. We didn’t find out it was a competition until after our smash hit performances, so we just took the microphones and did a song and shimmy to the Beatles’ “Eight Days a Week” and the movie Grease’s “You’re the One that I Want.” Perhaps the karaoke judge slash lady running the show didn’t much enjoy our duets because we were the only participants denied requests. Needless to say we did not qualify for the final round, but I think the locals took a liking to the two foreign girls on stage. We received some whistling amidst the applause. (At least I think it was whistling of praise, but it could have been relief that our song ended).
If you learn anything about me from reading these articles, learn this: I love doing literal interpretation dances to songs. So when someone took to the stage singing Madonna’s ‘Like a Prayer,” I took to the dance floor with my literal interpretation. Sometimes, I forget I’m in a public place and people are watching me.
In addition to Cardiff’s castle and park with Wales’ wannabe Stonehenge, we found another castle in Swansea. Ane and I wanted to go to the coast because we heard it is beautiful, especially the further south and west you go. We didn’t really go west and we only went an hour south, but it was refreshing to be on a beach again. The weather was chilly so we walked barefoot and picked up seashells. Ane collected enough to house the entire hermit crab and clam cast of The Little Mermaid.
In our search for the castle at Swansea, we stood in the plaza checking the map and saying, “Well, it is supposed to be right there.” It took a few blinking moments to realize it wasn’t a whole castle but rather part of a castle. Swansea made little effort to preserve the ruins seeing as soda cans and bottles littered the lawn.
Cardiff is quiet for a city capital, especially for one along the sea.
However, the location of the (part of a) castle was nonetheless striking against the city landscape. Tall, glass window office buildings (as close as Europe gets to skyscrapers) dominated the view above, the modern looming over the ancient. I couldn’t help but think of what a strong statement this made about the society’s often disregard of civilization for the past, too focused on a more advanced future.
Before I forget to mention it, bask in the thought of me getting pooped on by a bird in the city center. A nearly empty plaza, plenty of open area to aim for and my arm is the chosen target.
While the Ghana vs. Uruguay game was on in the hostel’s common room, Ane and I played Monopoly and Clue (called Cluedo in the UK). Because the Monopoly pieces were the traditional thimble and dog, it wasn’t until about three times around the board that I noticed the property names were different–street names in London. King’s Cross Station? Hey, I’ve been there! Hasbro went religious for the UK version of Clue, blessing Mr. Green with the title of Reverend. The knife is called a dagger and the wrench, a spanner. Minor details but I felt like I learned something. (Yeah, board games can be culturally enlightening.)
Enjoying our reunion after meeting the summer before in Ecuador, my Danish friends and I had a picnic outside Bakken amusement park. Bakken is the first and oldest amusement park in the world.
After five nights in Wales, Ane and I took a bus to London, slept in the airport, and caught (er, nearly missed) a flight to Copenhagen. Another friend from AmaZOOnico, Sophia, lives there. Ane and I spent two nights with Sophia and her Ecuadorian/Quechua fiance Juan. We had a picnic before heading inside Bakken, the world’s oldest amusement park. Far from Cedar Point–the thrill level was just above that of a jungle gym–the company was great. An added bonus, there is no entrance fee. Just a pay-as-you-go fare per ride. We actually ran into a past AmaZOOnico volunteer who left the rescue center the day after I arrived. He now works at the amusement park. Pardon me if this sounds pompous or rude, but Ane, Sophia and I agreed that Sebastian now has a crummy job in comparison to the jungle days. At least he is getting paid this summer.
The goodbye to Sophia ended with talk of a hopefully soon reunion in Ecuador. We all want to go back, so it will happen some day. It is just a matter of when.
Ane and I went to her hometown in the north, Aalborg, where I spent a week practicing Danish phrases. I told many a stranger, “I love you.” While I think Ane would admit there is not much sight-seeing to be had in Aalborg, we rode to the harbor often. Aalborg is a city that caters to cyclists with a bike lane on every main road. Instead of car parks, there are bike parks at apartment buildings. Very few people even have a driver’s license beacuse cycling is the major mode of transportation. Of course, that means you’re bound to get caught in a rainstorm from time to time. It only happened once while I was there.
Alison, the woman whose apartment we stayed at in London, was visiting Ane’s mom in Aalborg. We had a scrumptious dinner, with edible flowers in the salad, the night before Alison’s flight back to England. The next day, Ane and I played in the sprinkler with her nephews, eight-year-old Adam and six-year-old Beatom. Beatom was quiet and smiley, but Adam was very talkative despite being deaf. Even though I don’t speak Danish let alone Danish sign language (did you know sign language is not universal?), Adam didn’t let that stop him from communicating with me. It reminded me of the Hello Kitty girl in Porto, Portugal.
Ane and her nephew, Beatom, roast breadtwists over a fire. We dipped the Danish treats in ketchup to give them a sweet taste. (Ketchup is sweeter in Europe.)
Adam spent the night at his grandma’s in a tent with Ane and I. Before bed, the four of us baked bread twists over a fire. I tried mine with ketchup as is traditional, and it was pretty tasty!
When I first met Ane’s group of friends, it was the night of the World Cup final. I warned Ane that I wouldn’t be social, and she was already prepared. I told her there was only one thing I had to do while in Denmark, and that was watch the final match. I about ripped my hair out any time Spain just missed a shot or Holland almost scored on a breakaway. I might have been the only one in the student center bar actually rooting for a specific team, but people joined in my ecstasy when Spain scored. I haven’t stopped scolding my sister Ashley for leaving Madrid that weekend for a small vacation in San Sebastian up north, where she describes the vibe as much lower. Even though she is not a soccer fan (she recently reminded me that she has at least touched a soccer ball–volleyball is her sport), I still would have traded places with her to be in Madrid. I think that would have been a once in a lifetime experience. Ah, well, what’s done is done.
I went to Farup Sommerland amusement and water park with Ane, her boyfriend Andreas and his sister Ida. Ane and I rode the kiddie Tower of Terror and I screamed like a banshee, louder than any of the five-year-olds on board.
While setting up for a gathering put on by Ane’s boyfriend’s sister, I wandered along the fjord where I discovered an abandoned building. Every single window was broken, making for captivating photography.
The four of us spent many afternoons at Platform 4, an empty warehouse now used for concerts, office space and a bar. Ida works at the bar and Ane and I helped her and her co-workers decorate the place like a park. At the end of the week, we brought some friends and joined in the opening, eating ice cream and playing cards amidst DJ music.
The night before I left Aalborg, Ane’s best friend, Bibi, turned twenty-one. I went to her birthday party where everyone included me in conversations, explaining card games in English. Bibi’s friends bought her a guitar, so there was a lot of acoustic music that night. A guy from Finland played some Finnish folk songs. A Danish guy showed me some magic tricks. It was a very fun atmosphere.
My visit to Aalborg, Denmark allowed me some quality time with my Danish friend Ane, whom I met the previous summer in Ecuador. The stay here was low-key; I was able to fully immerse myself in the daily culture.
Andreas videotaped the goodbye at the train stations when Ane and I sang one of our many theme songs. There were a lot of “I’m gonna miss you” and “see you soon” exchanges. How soon soon is, neither of us knows. Maybe next summer if there is an Ecuador reunion, or if Ane visits the states. Maybe years from now. But we have a special friendship and we’ll make sure there are many more reunions. Ane’s mom and Alison are great examples for us of long distance friends keeping in touch, making sure to have reunions.
When I changed trains headed to Hamburg, Germany, I watched the goodbye video. It put such a smile on my face that I watched it again. I think this Europe trip has been the perfect reminder of that Girl Scout song that says, “Make new friends, but keep the old.” Sounds cheesy when I sing it at twenty-two years old, but it holds a lot of truth. “One is silver and the other’s gold. A circle’s round. It has no end. That’s how long I want to be your friend.” I know you’re crying now.
Germany came next. I speak zero German. Bring it on.
Stacey Venzel 