The Peruvian Misadventures of Zach and Paraag, Season Finale

I left out a very important detail from my first e-mail. We were not alone during our rafting trip - we had the company of billions and billions and billions of mosquitoes. And just like most folks and chicken, the mosquitoes proved to prefer white meat over dark meat. I, for one, was not complaining. Poor Sack and Colon though - their faces and hands were littered with mosquito bites. Zach even had a mosquito bite on his palm. Unreal. So, my last story ended on Friday, the last day of our rafting. We were about to embark on the greatest hiking adventure known to man, a 7 day / 6 night hike through the Andean mountains, culminating with the Inka Trail to Macchu Picchu. Sounds exciting just writing about it. Funny scary story... on my flight from Atlanta to Lima, I had an exit row/bulkhead seat on the aisle, with a flight attendant seat across from me for takeoffs and landings. This friendly gentleman asked me about my upcoming trip and and the hike and asked if I had been training for it. I had to think about my training regimen and it boiled down to this: Diet: Eat healthy. But if you decide to stray from time to time, this is okay, since you can make it up by exercising more and burning the calories. Exercise: Just do it. But in the end, it's really the thought that counts. Having the full intention to go downstairs to the little condo gym as soon as you got home and run a few miles on the treadmill is half the battle. By that logic, thinking about it twice was the whole battle. It's simple algebra. Net: I was in the worst shape of my life and had gained a good 10-15 pounds or more since moving to the New York area. And after being asked about my training regimen, I really began to get a little concerned about my ability to make it. Friday, August 27th (continued) Friday night, our tour guide, Oscar, for our hike came by the hotel to give us a briefing on our trip. We soon learned that the Salkantay portion of the hike (days 1-3) normally goes via a route that reaches 5000 meters, and that there was snow above 4200m. So we would be going via an alternate route that reaches a max of 4300m instead. This alternate route was clearly not right near Salkantay mountain from the map that Oscar was showing us. Unfortunately, we were having a bit of trouble understanding Oscar, and he was having a difficult time understanding us. So, as he was explaining that the main route was under half a metre of snow, we were understanding that we would be hiking through a half metre of snow. And we were getting a bit scared and feeling a tad slight bit on the unprepared side. We also learned that we had been upgraded to a "private" tour meaning that it would be the two of us and an army of attendants: tour guide, cook, waiter, horsemen, porters, etc.. "Private tour" was fancy-speak for "no one else signed up for the tour". Immediately following the briefing, we ran over to the Q'ente office to set the record straight and find out what we were getting ourselves into. They assured us that we would not be hiking through half a metre of snow. But due to the mis-information and a smidgeon of language barrier, we were still a little on edge, and unsuccessfully set out to find some waterproof hiking boots and waterproof pants in the town. Dejected and quite a bit on the apprehensive side, we returned to the hotel and attempted to go to sleep. By the way, at the Q'ente office, I learned that the fabric-lined ceiling would not have met fire code in the US. Thanks Zach. Saturday, August 28th Neither of us slept at all last night. No sleep for me because I was worried sick about the upcoming hike. And no sleep for Zach because he was just sick - I think he may have spent more of the night in the bathroom than in the bed. After a mild breakfast and a morning on the crapper, Zach declared that he was ready to go on this hike. Zach is one of those people who will rarely call it quits and will do everything he can to gut it out instead (like running a marathon with an injured foot). So, only he knew at this time what he was feeling. And I knew that he had his mind made up already and that there would be no changing it, so off we went on our expedition. On the ride to the hiking trail, we met our cook, Rolando, and our waiter/assistant cook, Wilbur, who were riding in the van with us. The first hour or two were on paved roads, but they were still quite windy since we were traveling up and down mountains, and it culminated in a small little town where Rolando and Wilbur hopped out to buy our food for the trip. Zach was still not feeling so well, so he looked for a bathroom. Upon examining the condition of the bathroom, he left the bathroom area and looked for somewhere else to attempt to spew his guts. The next two hours of driving were mostly uphill, but more importantly, on a very unpaved and narrow road. We believe this road may see traffic only once or twice a week because it was in very poor condition, and pretty much weaved in and out of the local farmer's lands. It was also only wide enough for one vehicle, so in the rare occasions that there were two vehicles on the road going in opposite directions, my guess is that the smaller vehicle would have a lot of backing up to do. We finally reached our launchpoint around lunchtime, a location which pulled double duty as the local elementary school's front yard. And all the kids and locals were out and about to stare at the foreigners. I figured that I blended in with Andean folks a bit better (being short and of darker skin tone), so I opted to turn and stare at Zach too. What strange, tall, and ugly untinted folk stands before me? Must be the devil! This last portion of the drive really took it's toll on Zach and he was quite visibly not feeling well at all. After visiting the local outhouse (I got a picture of that), he lay down in the van and moaned and groaned for a while. I mustered enough Spanish from my high school memory banks to explain to Antonio, the elderly van driver, what was the problem and he was convinced that he knew exactly what to do - Zach spent the next ten minutes lying on the ground with Antonio holding his feet straight up in the air and breathing deeply (I got a picture of that too). Oscar and Antonio both declared a small victory when some semblance of color returned to Zach's face. And the locals got a good show out of it. After having some lunch, Oscar and I walked about 1/2 kilometer to the nearest phone to call and talk to the Q'ente office about options. I wanted for both Zach and I to return to Cusco, and just do the 4 day hike instead. However, since we were the only tourists, this would mean that the crew would be disbanded and would likely not get paid at all. So, Oscar was trying to convince me that Zach should return alone and rejoin us for the Inka Trail, and I would do the first part of the hike alone with the crew. As we were walking back to the elementary school discussing options, Zach pleasantly surprised us and met us halfway, declaring his wellness and that we would go on with our hike. Fortunately, this solved the dilemma at hand. We hiked for two or two and half hours straight uphill. And I really mean straight up hill. There was no real trail either - it appeared as though we were hiking through people's property. Rolando and Wilbur made us look like fools, since they were virtually running up the hill with backpacks, whereas we were huffing and puffing each step of the way. With very high altitude (we were going from 3400m to 3700m or so), it really doesn't take much to get winded. The sun was out as well, so we got hot quickly. Weather and temperature in the mountains is a funny thing - when the sun is out and unhindered by pesky clouds, you feel the heat from the sunrays. As soon as cloud interrupts, the cool breeze becomes a chilling wind. Throughout the trip, we were cycling through layers of clothing at a very rapid pace. After what seemed like an eternity of hiking, we reached our campgrounds. Rolando, Wilbur, and the pack-horses had long passed us, so all of the tents were set up and ready when we got there. Quick aside - when signing up for the trip, neither Zach nor I had any intention of playing it pansy and having an entourage of folk at our beckon to do everything for us. I knew that I wasn't quite in the shape that I'd need to be to be able to carry my own backpack at this altitude, but that's all I was expecting: a packhorse for my backpack and some food. We had a dining tent, a kitchen tent, food galore, a bathroom tent, and our sleeping tent. Clearly, this is a large quantity of tents, so we clearly needed a tentmaster, Lucio Leon. And to carry all of this stuff, we had four packhorses and the dude who owned and operated the horses, Mario. And since we would pretty much be out in the middle of nowhere far away from civilization, Q'ente hires an additional "emergency" horse to walk with us, complete with its own attendant Pedro (who doubles as Mario's extremely arthritic father-in-law). You got it, counting tour guide Oscar, that's 6 people to attend to us. The campsite this evening was stunning - we were on a flat area protruding out of the mountainside that jutted out enough to give a nice wide panoramic view of the landscape below and beyond. Really just wonderful. There was a near full moon as well, rendering our headlamps useless and giving the entire place a glow of sorts. Just stunning. Sunday, August 29th Overnight, Zach got up and helped fertilize the landscape a wee little bit, so this morning his stomach was feeling much much much better. From what I could gather, the hike yesterday wasn't the greatest feeling in the world for him, but he tried his best to complain as little as possible, and succeeded. After breakfast, we had a nice leisurely 2-3 hour stroll along the mountainside, heading away from the inhabited and farmed valley and towards the higher altitude mountains inside. The stroll was mostly flat, and went along without issue. Even so, it didn't take long for Rolando, Wilbur, and company to race past us and have the lunchsite ready by the time we arrived. It appeared as though this would be the standard pattern for the coming days: we get up and start on our way, the staff clean up, pack up, race by us, and set back up by the time we reach the next stop. This really was a serious blow to our manhood. Having emptied his stomach out, Zach was struggling at this point more from lack of energy and probably some minor dehydration, and less from his churning stomach. By lunchtime, exhaustion had set in and some rest was in order. The temperature today was definitely a bit chillier than yesterday, owing partly due to the higher elevations and partly due to the cloud cover sky. Amazingly enough, even in these steeper mountains, there were still locals out and about - but only tending to livestock, not farming these lands. After lunch and some rest, we started on our way again. Unfortunately for us, the second half of the day resembled the hike from the previous day - mostly uphill. In fact, it was so steep that we were mostly doing switchbacks to get up the mountain (a trail that meanders right and left up a mountain for less steepiosity, but at the expense of length). As we rose up the mountain, it was getting colder and colder, and there was even a light dusting of snow on the ground. As the elevation increased, the air got thinner, and Zach took a turn for the worse. We later realized that he wasn't getting enough oxygen, but at the time all we knew was that he was experiencing splitting headaches. So, at long last, the emergency horse came to the rescue and Pedro and Gringo (the horse's name) were put to good use. The last stretch was particularly trying - very very steep, and I was already exhausted and sore - I was literally stopping every 25 meters to catch my breath. The top couldn't have come soon enough, and at long last we reached a plateau and a campsite waiting for us at about 4100 meters (about 13,500 feet). Soon after arriving, it began to snow and the wind picked up mightily. Even with every stitch of clothing we could manage to get on, we were still freezing. And yet the feet of Pedro and Mario were managing to get by with only sandals. You would think that they must have been suffering from a serious case of frostbite. It's possible, but my guess is that they had no feeling in their feet at all, coupled with an extremely thick layer of skin that had been building up since birth. Tonight was hell night for Zach. His description of his headache in his own words: "I feel like someone is driving a nail through my skull with a sledgehammer". I've never experienced a nail through my skull with a sledgehammer, but I could gather that this was probably not a good feeling. He even managed to mention that this was more pain than when he had to pass a kidney stone. Ouch. Very quickly, we set up a mattress pad and sleeping bag in the dining tent for Zach so that he could lie down in between attempting to eat. As his head got worse and worse, we decided to try some oxygen. Two 3 minute doses of oxygen later, Zach felt better. Then we got him working on some very deep breathing to see if that would work, and it helped a little more. From our collective deductive reasoning, we reasoned that Zach was in such good athletic shape that his normal resting heartbeat and breathing pattern on normal (to us) elevation was so low that this was actually causing him to have more problems in this higher elevation, especially in light of being dehydrated and energy-less from the stomach virus. And to add insult to injury, when dinner was ready and Zach had to get up, he stumbled head first into the gas lamp and burned a rather sizable upside down triangle between his eyebrows (you should be able to make out the burn mark in the pictures later in the week). That night, we froze to death, except without the dying part. But it was pretty darn cold. I distinctly remember getting up because I had to go to the bathroom, but I really didn't want to go outside since I knew it was going to be very cold. So I actually sat there in my sleeping bag for a good half an hour trying to convince myself that I could hold it until morning or come up with some alternative option even though I knew that there were none. Monday, August 30th It was cold. And we really didn't want to get out of the tent at 7:00 in the morning. After procrastinating as long as we could (only about 15 minutes - the staff is very persistent), we packed up and headed over to the dining tent for our standard breakfast: a pancake, a bowl of porridge, tea, and fruit. Oscar informed us that by 11pm or so last night (we had long before gone to bed) the snow stopped and the clouds disappeared, giving a phenomenal view of the night sky and Salkantay mountain in the distance. In the pictures I sent, there's a group picture with Oscar on the emergency horse Gringo - and in the background is Salkantay mountain. Looking at it this morning made us mildly disappointed that we had to go through the alternate route and not be close up by the mountain for this 3 day portion of our hike. After breakfast, Oscar advised us of the perils that lay ahead - we would be climbing to 4300m to the mountain pass before descending rapidly into the valley below. As we left the campsite, Oscar decided that we would be best served to go down by about 150m first to climb up the other side of the valley to get to the pass. We couldn't really argue with his choice, but we were less than thrilled. During this morning's hike, Zach did pretty well up to the mountain pass. We took it slow and steady and therefore didn't have to stop too frequently at all. Once we got to the pass, the scenery was stunning in all directions - lots of snow-peaked mountains, and views of the valleys on both sides. But it was windy and cold, so it didn't take much cajoling to get us going. Fortunately, the climb portion of the day was over, and the rest was downhill - but there was a lot of downhill to go. And again, Zach's headache got the better of him, and Gringo was put to use once again (and this time I got pictures!). :-) At this point, Oscar and I decided that if Zach didn't feel better by the morning, we would call it quits on the hike and head to the nearest town (still 1.5 days away) and pharmacy. Another dose of oxygen after lunch, and 4 Advils later (for Zach), we continued on our journey. We walked a good 2 kilometers on flat land along Canal Inka - an aqueduct that was built in ground by the Incas to channel water. The channel was lined with rocks along the sides and bottom and, for the most part, had withstood the test of time. An hour or so later, we passed by our first real Incan ruins - this one was a trading outpost that was built to manage the local traders. These outposts were built wherever valleys met, and watch towers were built and manned in the mountain peaks to ensure that all trade was regulated. There were all sorts of very interesting engineering features that Oscar pointed out to us, from trapezoidal doorways to help resist earthquakes to the rock extensions from the walls to tie the grass thatch roof to. Initially, we were supposed to camp here for the evening, but we were about a 30 minute hike from Huayllabamba (the "Huay" was deemed excessive and dropped for the movie "La Bamba"), which is the hometown of Rolando and Wilbur (our campsite was Rolando's backyard). Huayllabamba also serves as the first campsite for many tour groups on the Inka Trail. By this time, Zach was feeling quite well as well - I think the 4 Advil did the trick. I know what you're thinking, and I'm thinking the same thing: why the heck would you take 4 Advils when the recommended dosage is 1 tablet? I don't know. I just work here. Overall, we had hiked something like 13 kilometers today, down 150m, up 350m, and then down 1,300m to Huayllabamba (at 3,000m). My legs were killing me. Downhill really takes a toll on your knees and quads - quite a work-out indeed. Try it sometime if you don't believe me. That night, there was a festival in Huayllabamba and a band had come to town to play music. We soon learned that festival songs all sound the exact same - Oscar told us that all of the songs start out the same, but the middle is different. We had to take his word for it, because we couldn't tell a bit. Imagine listening to a Wilson Philips song or an Air Supply song over and over and over. And then take out the vocals and replace it with loud brass instruments that are, at times, out of sync. It's just that annoying after a while. We also quickly learned that festivals are a good excuse for the locals to get wasted. They did. Tuesday, August 31th We woke up and took our own sweet time this morning. We were waiting for the porters to come and bring a fresh supply of food for the remainder of the journey. From here to Macchu Picchu, pack horses are not allowed on the trail as the government tries to maintain strict control over the number of people on the trail (500 per day) as well as manage the cleanliness of the trail. And so, we would be bidding adieu to our horses and Mario and Pedro. We had heard from others that prior to government intervention a few years back, the trail was filthy and overcrowded and the controls had really helped to preserve the trail. After breakfast, Oscar and the others got a soccer game going - they actually had a good size field up here in the mountains. What a stunning backdrop to boot! I didn't get too much exercise while playing, since I was stuck at goalie for virtually the entire match. But Zach was out and running with the rest of them as best he could. This was a very good thing. Finally, we had lunch and were introduced to our new porters: Pablo, Juan Carlos, Antonio, and another fellow named Pedro (who we promptly named Pedro 2). So, now we had a crew of 8 people to tend to me and Zach. We were royalty. The thing is, 7 or 8 is basically the minimum number of staff per group, just to carry the basics. From there, the rule of thumb is to add 1 porter for every additional 2 tourists. Since Zach was feeling so well, he opted to continue with the trip instead of heading out to civilization, the town of Ollantaytambo, which was about a day's hike away. Though he was feeling great, we weren't sure he was completely out of the woods, since we were at a drastically lower elevation than the night before. The agenda for this afternoon was an uphill hike for about 4-5 hours to go up approximately 850 meters. But we were both feeling really, really good, and made it up in 2.5 hours flat. In fact, we beat the porters up the hill, as well as Oscar. Of course, Oscar was weighed down by his backpack today, but we surprised them all by only stopping when Oscar needed a breather. In fact, I think we probably gained a little bit of respect from the fellas. As the rest of the tourists made their way up the hill and to the campsite, it was strikingly clear that we would no longer be able to enjoy the scenery in absolute solitude. But that's cool - after so many days on our own, I was ready to see and meet other people. Zach was getting on my nerves and he smelled funny. Wednesday, September 1st We got up early this morning to get on the trail before anyone else did. Oscar knew that we would have an advantage with being a small group, and was trying his best to take the opportunity to ensure that we weren't subjected to the clutter of tourists. We had another 400m uphill to get to the first pass of the trail at 4200m, and it can get really slow and cumbersome to have to continually try and walk around people who were going slowly. The scenery along this trail was already a ton more spectacular than the 3 day Salkantay portion, and we could clearly see why all of the tourists flocked to this trail. Even Oscar agreed that the scenery on this hike was the best around. There was the sun, some livestock, snow-capped craggy mountains, valleys, a village, and our trail back to the bottom all in view from the same point. I think Zach took something like 30 pictures of all of the different viewpoints, and a number of duplicates. At this point, I was just happy that he was feeling enthused enough to be taking way too many pictures to begin with. We reached the first pass before the majority of porters and in front of Oscar again. After relaxing a bit, we had our first sighting of "The Leprechaun", or at least that's what we called him. He wasn't dressed in green either, he was in all black. But he had this beret on and longer than necessary sideburns, and you could smell his cologne from a mile and half away. Okay, the cologne doesn't add to the leprechaun-ness, but I couldn't really leave that part out now, could I? Throughout the remainder of the trip, we passed The Leprechaun and he passed us - many, many times. And each time, we laughed to ourselves, as I am doing now. In true Zach style, he took 3 pictures of the guy. Descending down flagstone steps takes a serious toll on the knees, and takes a lot of time (for me at least). It didn't take long before my quads were screaming and my knees aching. The porters passed us pretty quickly as they ran, no... glided down the steps and into the cloudy murkiness below. The visibility on the other side of the pass wasn't the greatest, and there was a light mist in the air. After descending about 700 meters, we stopped for lunch at 3500m and relaxed for a bit. I admit - I was playing the part of a pansy a bit, since my knees were just killing me. But the next section was uphill, so it would be easier on the knees. Before long, we were on our way - there was a nice stopping point halfway up at a small set of ruins called Runkurakay. I don't recall what the significance of this place was. My mind was elsewhere. I think there must have been a heavy dairy product of some sort in our lunch, because I'm lactose intolerant and I really had to go and bad. And going out in the bushes just wasn't going to cut it. I continued up the hill, and was extremely frustrated to reach what I thought was the second pass on at least three different occasions. When the second pass finally arrived (at 3900m), it came and went quickly for me, as I was again off to the races. Oscar had informed me that the next set of bathrooms was at the next campsite (these campsites had nice constructed bathrooms instead of holes dug in the ground), and I was determined to get there as quickly as possible. After a descent of 300m, I passed the camera to Zach, who with Oscar headed to a beautifully preserved set of ruins called Sayaqmarka a mere 20 meters away. I virtually ran for the next 15 minutes to get to the campsite and achieve my relief. The porters were all surprised to see me so soon, as I waved hello and goodbye in a blur running by on my beeline to the crapper. Now you might be asking why I have opted to go into such exquisite detail of the resultant of my lack of tolerance for lactose. No real reason. I just have nothing better to talk about at the moment. Sue me. Thursday, September 2nd I slept horribly. I lost my dinner last night and spent most of the night awake, and to and fro the crapper. Fortunately for me, the crapper was very close by. When it was time to get up, I couldn't. I was exhausted, completely out of energy, a tad bit dizzy, a mild headache, and my stomach was still queasy. I just couldn't muster up the energy to move. But we still had to hike up to the third and final mountain pass today (at 3650m) and then down to our final campsite at WinayWayna (at 2650m). I don't particularly remember much of this day - I just remember it taking a really really long time, probably because I was stopping a lot. I do know that the trail passed through two tunnels carved by the Incas through stone because there was simply no other way to go around. My guess is that had I felt better, I probably would have appreciated this a bit more. And perhaps I would have discussed this appreciation a little more with you, my readers. I guess you'll just have to go for yourselves. At WinayWayna, I went to sleep in the tent, while Zach and Oscar went on another short trip to some nearby ruins. This makes the second set of ruins that I missed. However, I was able to experience most of it, thanks to the 200 or so pictures that Zach took. After a brief sleep, I felt much much better. Hot showers were available here, so we indulged of course. It took quite a while to scrape off the caked on layers of sunscreen and mosquito repellent. Yecch. I also learned that the electrical wiring for the hot water heating source would not have met NIOSH safety standards in the US. Thanks Zach. Friday, September 3rd We got up at 4:45 this morning so that we could be the first ones into Macchu Picchu. The park rangers open the gate at 5:30, and Oscar was determined to be first. We were. As soon as they opened the gate, we ran for a good half hour straight to be the first ones to the ruins. This would permit us to see the ruins without the plethora of tourists who would very soon descend on the site. From the Inka Trail, the entrance to the site was through Inti Punku, the sun gate. On the summer solstice every year (December 22nd - remember, it's the Southern hemisphere), the sun rises directly through this gate and hits the sun temple in Macchu Picchu. And the sun gate was an excellent place to get a postcard picture. For the next few hours, Oscar gave us a guided tour of the place. It was quite phenomenal. Apparently, the stone used here is extremely hard on the official hardness scale (something like an 8 out of 10). And the Incas carved these stones to perfect alignment to build the structure, since they had no real mortar. Macchu Picchu was built atop a mountain that is wrapped around on three sides by the Urubamba river. This offered the Incas excellent protection from enemy invaders. In fact, the city was only known to the royalty and clerics, and was vacated when the Spanish conquistadors arrived. The Spaniards never found Macchu Picchu. From far below, the city is virtually impossible to see as well. The site itself appears as though the area was literally shaved clean to build a city. It is just seemingly coming out of absolutely nowhere. By the way, there are very few artifacts at all located at the Macchu Picchu site. Hiram Bingham "discovered" the city in the early 1900s and took everything back with him to Yale University. Currently, the Peruvian government is trying to get Yale to return them, but no luck so far. Stupid Ivy League universities. Before long, we were exhausted from lack of sleep and the many days of hiking. We were ready to sleep in a proper bed. So we headed to the town of Aguas Calientes on the first possible bus to see if we could get an early train back to Cusco. We soon learned that we could not. Aguas Calientes is named for some naturally occurring hot springs that many choose to relax in. Having nothing better to do, we decided to check it out. These naturally occurring hot springs appeared to be nothing more than a glorified kiddie pool. We did not partake. So what else could we do? We headed to a smoky pool hall to play some pool with Oscar. Except that the pool tables were actually snooker tables, but we were playing with the standard-sized balls (snooker tables have much much smaller pockets). Even funnier were the posters hanging on the wall - most were of skimpy (and mildly unattractive I might add) bikini models from girlie mags. But one poster was of, I kid you not, Leonardo di Caprio. I'll leave it to you to come up with your own joke. The train ride home was long and boring and for the most part uneventful. Except that I lost my fleece somewhere along the way. And it wasn't just any ordinary fleece (and no, brother Neeraj, it was not an Old Navy performance fleece either), it was the fleece liner to my American Eagle ski jacket that I had at home. So now I'm bummed. Oh yeah - at one point, we actually did a pair of switchbacks on the train itself (forward, backward, then forward again), presumably to get up the mountain a little further or something. Very strange. Back at Hostal RumiPunku, we were relieved to finally be back in civilization. And we were anxious to get some food reminiscent of home. Somewhere along the way, all of the food started tasting the same. It seemed as though Peruvian food used the same spices in absolutely everything: cinnamon, oregano, and cloves. Don't get me wrong - it tasted good. But not good enough to only have this taste for every meal for a straight week. So we went to a restaurant to have a Western burger. Unfortunately, it tasted the same as everything else! Ack. Saturday, September 4th Had a wonderful wonderful sleep last night. Just exquisite. And relaxing. Very nice indeed. We were heading back to Lima this afternoon. In the Cusco airport, we met up with "The Leprechaun" and chatted for a bit. Apparently, he was from New Zealand. I guess we were a tad off on that one, eh? After arriving to Lima, we had a lot of time to kill - it was 3pm or so, and our flight home didn't leave until midnight. So, we headed back to Miraflores to eat at a restaurant we had eaten at two weeks before - because the food was good, and because the waitress was really pretty. Well okay - one of those reasons was Zach's rationale for returning, and the other was mine. We also both bought some insanely cheap original artwork from local artists there. We probably got ripped off, but it was still a ton cheaper than anything to be found in the States. On our way back to the airport, we took a detour to go to the P&G Lima plant. Zach's brand new plant manager had just been the plant manager at this plant in Lima, and told Zach to swing by, no matter what the hour or day, and someone would be able to give us a tour. Well, security and the shift supervisor at the plant didn't feel the same way. So they called the new plant manager at home on a Saturday night, and Zach had to talk and explain his way out of this one. And then they kept our business cards. We left thinking that the first thing we needed to do when we got back to work was to talk to our own plant managers and explain the whole thing, just in case the new Lima plant manager was pissed. As far as I know, we are both still employed. Alas, we have come to end of my tale. I hope you enjoyed it and didn't fall asleep too much. And Zach, hopefully I didn't miss anything or humiliate you too much. Until next time, adieu. Next time may not be that far off - my brother and I are headed to Costa Rica for a week in December. And for those of you who have had the pleasure of meeting my brother, you know that I'll have plenty of stories coming from that one. As always, please let me know if you want me to add someone else or subtract you from the distribution list. I'd hate to be categorized as spam. -Paraag Tidbits: 1. Peruvian establishments accepted both the local currency (Soles) as well as US Dollars. My recommendation is to always go with the local currency, to ensure that you are not subject to the whim of the establishment with regards to exchange rate. For the most part, people wouldn't accepted bills that had the slightest rip in them or that were old or worn. And older coins that had become a bit more rounded and smooth were also not acceptable to many. I think I saw nicer US Dollars there than I ever have over here. 2. Brand names often do not cross borders well. Our guide for this portion, Oscar, sported "N_gga" brand sunglasses, as in The Chappelle's Show's "N_gga Please" brand cereal flakes. I took a picture of the glasses for your viewing pleasure. Another example? Bimbo - a bakery company like Entenmann's or Wonder or Pepperidge Farms. Every morning, we'd get up and say, "Ain't nothing like some Bimbo cakes and Anis Tea to get your day started" (Anis is a type of herbal tea, that we purposefully mis-pronounced for the humour of this phrase). 3. What is up with European guys and capri pants? That's clearly a fashion statement that didn't need to be made. We must have come across at least 5-6 guys wearing these, and every time it took every ounce of energy to keep from making fun of them out loud. So we made fun of them to each other. And now I am making fun of them to you. Isn't life grand? 4. In Huayllabamba, Rolando's nephew (couldn't have been more than 3 or 4) was crawling all over the place (up on rocks, in and around a 4 foot sink, etc.) and at one point got hold of a knife and was carrying it around. No one seemed to be concerned at all. My sister's house, on the other hand, is completely baby-proof - from cabinet latches to gates to padding on every conceivable furniture edge, and so forth. Now I can completely understand why she is doing this, but certainly at some point we do more harm than good with childproofing everything. At some points, kids have to learn by experiencing. At some point, we've sanitized our lives so much that we can't live in the real world anymore. Ever wonder why the locals aren't the ones getting stomach viruses or blisters or colds or flus or anything like that? They've built up their immunities. I'm sure that I'll continue the trend and fall right in line with everyone else (a la childproofing and whatnot), but it makes you wonder. Or at least, it made me wonder. 5. If you want more info about our hiking trip, you can visit www.qente.com. For the most part, I would recommend them. From what I could gather, they paid the porters well (some outfits pay extremely poorly) and they were a class company. And the gear was top-notch. We had top quality tents, top quality sleeping bags, and top quality mattress pads. They certainly didn't skimp on price or quality.

The Peruvian Misadventures of Zach and Paraag, episode 1

I've been at it again, though it has been a while since I've last written in this forum. But true to my word, my next travails have indeed been to the land of the Pervs, ummm... Peruvians. But this time, I did not go it alone. My Buddy Zach joined me to keep me company. My Buddy Zach and I are good friends from our short time living in Cape Girardeau, Missouri, home of everyone's favorite talk-show host, Rush Limbaugh. Yes, I do hold the honor of having lived in the hometown of His Largeness (or is it His Annoyingness?) in great esteem. I should have a plaque on my wall. Saturday, August 22nd Thanks to my pretty healthy travel schedule while working in P&G Cincinnati Engineering, I was blessed with many Delta Frequent Flyer miles. I finally used them. So, me from Philly this afternoon to Atlanta, then on to Lima. My Buddy Zach was flying from Kansas City to Atlanta, then on to Lima. By now, you are likely wondering why I keep referring to My Buddy Zach as "My Buddy Zach". Normally, I refer to most of my friends as "My friend ", but for some reason, Zach always seems to refer to his friends as "My Buddy ". Which reminds me, of course, of that little kids' toy that used to plug the TV commercial airways non-stop years back - "My Buddy, My Buddy... Wherever I go, he goes...". You know... for that doll (it certainly wasn't an action figure) for little boys. Remember? Okay, fine. That was a tad on the obscure side. But you're a better person for having read through this. Trust me. You'll thank me later. Really. Oh yes... back to the story. Zach's plane from Kansas City had a "mechanical failure" and was cancelled. As we all know, "mechanical failure" is shorthand for "not enough passengers". I'm in a complaining mood at the moment, so humour me. Net: Zach was re-scheduled for a later flight to Atlanta, then to Miami, and then to Lima overnight via American Airlines. So, Zach left me a message with the airline to go on to Lima and he'd meet me at the hotel. Sounds like a foolproof plan to me. Sunday, August 23rd It was not a foolproof plan. I awaken in my hotel room at 5am to a knock on the door. Standing in the doorway is Zach and his little Camelbak backpack. And that's it. His bag was not as fortunate as he to make it to Peru. After unsuccessfully attempting to get a few hours of sleep, we got up and hit the phones to get an answer regarding when to expect Zach's bag. The American Airlines rep at the Lima airport opted to take a laissez-faire "what bag?" approach to helping Zach out. Needless to say, he was a tad on the peeved side. The phone lines were not doing a much better job, so we opted to head back to the airport. We were originally scheduled to leave today to go to Cusco by plane anyway, so the airport wasn't exactly out of our way to begin with. Again, the American Airlines rep was less than helpful. After confirming with Lan Peru that we could move our flight to Cusco out a day, Zach decided to hit the phone lines again. An hour later, Zach had a hoarse voice, 40 Soles ("So-les" = Peruvian currency) less in his pocket, and no better idea what the heck happened to his backpack. At this point, our theory rested on a missed "hand-off" from one airline to the other. Bags? We don't need no stinkin' bags! Zach is about 5-6 inches taller than me, so my clothes were not about to fit him. He was also beginning to get cold since his one pair of shorts wasn't doing a good job in the body heat conservation arena. So we got a taxi and headed over to Miraflores, where we could eat, shop, and get a hotel, not necessarily in that order. Hold a sec, actually it was in that order. How to get to Miraflores? Why, that's simple - just hail the nearest slimy commission-seeking taxi driver you can find. We did rather exceptionally well at finding a slimy taxi driver if I do say so myself. I just did. We had lunch at a very exquisite and romantic restaurant on a pier jutting out into the ocean. Too bad that we weren't quite looking for an exquisite and romantic restaurant. Zach's not that cute. No es el guapo. Funny story (not funny ha-ha, but funny nonetheless)... throughout the trip, Zach tried his best to speak Spanish using the French he had learned in high school and whatever Spanish words he had learned through media and pop culture (think: yo quiero taco bell, rico suave, living la vida loca, etc.). So, he kept commenting "muy guapo" whenever he meant to say that something was very good, which is "muy bien". People looked at him funny for that, and then they would smile because of the big smirk on his face. After lunch, we went shopping, where Zach found much to his chagrin that he is sized a little too large for Andean people. He couldn't find any pants that would fit him. If his bag doesn't show up, he'll be in a world of trouble. We might have to go swipe the clothes from other tourists, a la James Bond, Spaceballs, or any other movie where the protagonists lure unsuspecting clothed beings into their realm only to konk them over the head and steal their threads. Hey, that rhymed. I'm the rapper, he's the DJ. We finally escaped from the slimy taxi driver after checking into the Hotel Nirvana (also spelled Hotel Niervana). It would not be a stretch to say that this was far from a Niervana: the beds were damp, the room was humid and funky-smelly, the toilet handle had to be jiggled to stop flushing, the pool was not quite swim-worthy, and there didn't appear to be any other hotel guests. Be afeared. Be very afeared. Monday, August 24th Went to the airport again. But this time, we went to actually board a plane. I stood in the line for Lan Peru to get our boarding passes to Cusco, while Zach roamed the airport in search of his bag. Miraculously, it appeared - most likely not due to any efforts from the crack team of American Airlines customer service reps stationed in Lima. My theory is that they were just about to open the bag up and divvy the booty (especially the non-Andean-sized pants) when Zach walked in and ruined their plans. And they would have gotten away with it if it weren't for those meddling kids. The Lan Peru line was an adventure unto itself. The line wrapped around itself many times, and well beyond the Tensa-Barriers that they had allocated to this line. With all the people cutting through this way and that way, the lines started blurring more into a mass of confusion, finger-pointing and accusations were flying in many different languages. My guess is that it was probably France's fault. Once we got through this line, we were honoured to stand in another line to pay our airport taxes, and then in another for the security checks to permit us entry into the boarding area warehouse. No real gates. Just a temporary building structure - you board a bus which will take you to your plane. Your takeaway from all of this is simple: Lima sucks. Any good guidebook will tell you the same. In fact, this may not be a bad criterion by which to judge guidebooks when you are looking for a good one. One hour or so later, we were landing in Cusco, a town built in a plateau in the middle of the Andes mountains at a pretty darn high altitude (3300m ~ 11,000 feet ~ 2 miles). You would think that it would be very easy for someone to come down with a case of altitude sickness at this height. You would be right. And that someone was me. It didn't take much exertion to be out of breath (like carrying your bag up a flight of steps to the hotel room) - it's a humbling experience. After a few hours of walking around the city exploring (and looking for trail shoes since I left mine in my car), I started coming down with a bit of a fever and a headache and had to crash at the hotel for a bit. Zach, being the dedicated athlete he is, decided to bite his thumb at my frailty and go for a jog out in the town. Big fat show off. We also got an orientation for our first big adventure of the trip: a 4 Day / 3 Night rafting expedition down the Apurimac River, which is known to be one of the 10 best rivers to raft in the world. Danger is my middle name. Tuesday, August 24th After a night of restless sleep, multiple bathroom trips, and lots of shivering, I broke my fever and felt great. This is a very good thing, because I think Zach would have made me go on the trip even if I were feeling like absolute crap. Of course, I probably would have thanked him if that were the situation. This morning, we embarked on a long van ride to the put in spot for the rafts: 1 hour of paved roads, and 4 hours of pothole-laden gravel road, including descending several thousand feet via switchback roads. But we learned many a thing on this short journey. For example: - Though the entrance to a marketplace may be flanked by bloody carcasses of meat with eyeballs seemingly staring right at you, there could be packaged food available beyond the entryway. Like Oreos. - Instead of putting placards out on the lawn with your chosen political candidates running for office, the Peruvians paint the ballot number of their candidate of choice on the outside of their walls: #3 and #7 are very popular. I think I'll probably vote for one of them. It was pretty darn compelling advertising. Finally, we arrived to the put-in location, and it quickly dawned on me that something was very very strange: we were the only ones in sight. No other rafting companies or tourists or anything. Just us. And us consisted of me, Zach, Colin (the other tourist), Juan (our rafting guide), Willie (the cargo raft guide), and Diego (the safety kayaker). 6 guys and 4 days of Class IV-V rapids. We were excited. Except that we were not known as Paraag, Zach and Colin for the duration of this trip. In the Peruvian Spanish accent of the guides, our names became Prague, Sack, and Colon (as in Cristobal Colon). After lunch (cheese and potato casserole - not so good), we spent a few hours assembling and loading up the rafts, going through rafting safety training, and of course, doing whatever it took to squeeze into our hineys into the wetsuits. I was incorrectly deemed to need a medium sized suit by the tour organizers - I'm actually cringing in pain as I write this. Fortunately, my knees broke through the knee pads and ripped the seams a bit to provide a little bit of relief. This also came with the price of very odd farmer tan shapes on my knees once the trip was done. But I'm getting ahead of myself. After a vigorous hour and a half of rafting (I'm being facetious), we pulled ashore and began to set up camp. We had rafted several Class II and III rapids - enough to whet an appetite, but I was hungry for more. Unfortunately for me, my appetite would have to wait until the next day. We soon found out that this rafting company is the only one to do this river in 4 days. The other companies do it as a 3 day trip. The rationale was that we would be able to take our time and not rush through the mornings to get out into the river, and we'd have plenty of time to get settled in the evenings in the new campsite before the sun went down. This was true. We indeed had plenty of time. The campsite was pretty cool. We had our sleeping tents, a dining tent, a bathroom bucket (complete with toilet seat), a propane stove and plenty of food. The guides cooked every night, and started us out with a steak this evening. Not too shabby at all. I think we all came in assuming that we'd be living on a steady diet of PB&Js for the trip. Just as we were about to get the greatest campfire ever witnessed by man up and going, God decided to rain on our plans and send us to our tents. We learned a valuable lesson that night: whence you doth be sleeping on a slight slope, don't situate your sleeping bags with your feet on the uphill end. It just doesn't work so well. You all are more than welcome to try it too and see what you think. And there was much rejoicing. Wednesday, August 25th We woke up in the morning and took our own sweet time eating, and tearing down the tents, and packing up, and loading up the rafts, and everything else. Somewhere around 9:30 or 10am, we finally set off. Today, the rapids got a little bigger. We got some IIIs and IVs finally. We also had a surprise guest: the sun. For the past several days, we were fiercely debating whether or not we were misled in grade school, and that perhaps the southern hemisphere didn't really see the sun ever. But fortunately, the sun came out and proved that we were taught correctly. This is good, since it would have been a shame to have to burn all those elementary school science books. That would not have been muy guapo. It didn't take long for the sun to hide behind the clouds again, and the threat of rain came back on. So, our guides decided to raft through lunch and make it to the campsite. No big deal - it was nice to get a full four hours of rafting in. We did have our first few portages today as well. A portage rapid is where the rapid is deemed to be too dangerous for us simpleton tourists, and we are forced to walk around the rapid whilst our guides soak in the glory of running the rapid. So what if the raft will barely fit between a big ass rock and a big ass cliff and has to be run sideways? So what if there are plenty of underwater caverns that you could potentially get sucked under and drown? So what if getting tossed from the boat is an absolute certainty? We paid for death defying rapids and signed our lives away already, dammit! Let's get it on! Well, okay maybe not. These guys had our safety firmly set as the utmost priority, and I suppose that was very comforting. But I still felt like a big wuss for having to sit on the rocks and watch. Call me an idiot (I'll help, "You big fat idiot!" - doesn't that feel better?). Two of our guides, Juan and Diego, are young guys who are good friends and roommates and usually go on these trips together. Nonstop throughout the trip, they were trading barbs in their slower-than-normal-conversation broken-English. Juan would yell out, "Hey fella... you betta watch-a yor back!" as he tries to steer us to run over Diego and his kayak. Just pure unadultered comedy, these two. After making it to the campsite, the clouds went away and the threat of rain disappeared. Oh well. We had the entire afternoon to bask in the nice weather and do anything we wanted to, in this very remote area of the mountains. Yes, it didn't take long until we were bored out of our minds. So we did what anybody would do - we invented Peterball. Peterball is a variation of Bocce Ball, using stones from the riverbank instead of wooden balls (since multiple painted and evenly-weighted wooden balls are not naturally occurring in the majority of campsites along the Apurimac River). And Peter means rock in Latin or something like that, and hence the etymology of the game name, Peterball. Please pay attention, there will be a quiz at the end of this e-mail. This is good stuff. By the way, I'll have you know that I am the undisputed Peterball king - undefeated and unstoppable. Don't dare and challenge my greatitude, or you shall fail. Hail me. We did get our campfire of the century up and going this evening. But there were no smores. Very very sad. Colin did share with us a true horror story about some unfortunate extended legal battles that he and his wife had been through with a psychotic illegally-subletting landlady. Damn lawyers. The stars were out in full effect and we got to see the Southern Cross, and Orion, and some convoluted scorpion that really just resembled a random smattering of stars. The moon was out in full effect too, so we couldn't see the stars so brilliantly, however we also had no need for flashlights. You take the good, you take the bad, you take it all, and there you have the facts of life. I am compelled to provide a bit of side commentary here (as if you would expect anything less from me). Melissa - you are a very lucky woman, and I think we should all be so fortunate to have the relationship that you and Zach have. Without fail, every time we saw spectacular scenery, you could see it in Zach's eyes that he would have enjoyed it 10 times more with you by his side. It brought a tear to my eye. Thursday, August 26th I just realized that I haven't ranted and raved about the scenery - que lastima! As you will see with the photos, it was all surreal. It was amazing to round a corner in the river and have the steepest and tallest mountain you'd ever seen appear in front of you. They all looked like they must have been fake, because it was too spectacular to be real. Couple this with our solitude - not another person in sight - and it was too much to try and soak in. I spent many hours in the mornings and afternoons just staring with mouth agape. And I was left wondering if the mountains of Fiordland in New Zealand when I kayaked in Milford Sound a few years back were comparable - I honestly don't know. We did manage to spot some wildlife as well, but not too much - a deer, a fox, some wild parakeets, an otter, and some ducks. Parakeets in the wild - just doesn't sound right, does it? I guess I just never envisioned parakeets being able to live in anything other than a cage! When we finally got on the river this morning, it didn't take long for the sun to come out. And this time, it stayed out in all it's glory for the bulk of the day. So, if we weren't getting wet, we were getting hot. Fortunately, the Apurimac River doesn't have many long stretches without rapids. The guides were raving about this and told us that they've been kayaking and rafting around the world and still love the Apurimac back home the most. After a few invigorating Class IV rapids, we stopped for lunch in a nice little side beach encampment, where the sun continued to beat directly down on us. After lunch, all of us were scrambling to find shade, but there was little to be found. I managed to contort my body and lie down along a rock in a sliver of shade that it was providing, though I had to move slightly every five minutes to maintain the cover. Finally, after the guides decided they were ready to go, we launched off again. And Juan was very nice to us and took us to a cliffjumping spot. It didn't look very high when we approached it, but this could be because the mountain extended much much much further up behind it, dwarfing the leap we were about to make. Regardless, it seemed pretty darn high from the ledge. I got it on film, so you can judge for yourself. At some point today (or it may have been yesterday - all of the days kidna blurred together after a while), Zach asked Juan what a particular rapid was named. They have names for all of the rapids, and most of the names had interesting stories behind them. Well, this particular rapid had no name and no interesting story behind it. Inspired by one of the catchphrases of my friend Saravanan, we asked to name this one "B#&$% Betta Have My Money", and tried our best to explain as best we could what that meant. I'm not very confident that they will keep this name for this rapid though. After a two portages and a several more Class II and IV rapids, we got to our last campsite. After setting up the tent, Zach and I decided to go on a small hike. We found lots of rocks, and some unidentified creature holes, and many garbage trees. I call them garbage trees because it seemed that every branch had a bit of a plastic bag stuck to it or some other refuse. The trees had pricklies on them that grabbed anything that went by, so our guess was that when the water level rises in the rainy season, any garbage left behind by the stupid humans in the campsites was washed away and caught by these trees. Very sad to see. Friday, August 27th Ahh... we were taking down our tent and packing up our clothes in the dry bag for the last time this morning. More importantly, squeezing myself and all my parts into the wetsuit for the last time. Felt kinda good and felt kinda bad. We had pancakes this morning, but there was no syrup - only some strange caramel like spread. So I ate it plain with butter. It was good. But not as good as the few strips of thick bacon we had yesterday morning. That was ummm... ummm... good. We had a Class V rapid this morning - it was incredible. How do you describe a rapid? Okay - the raft went this way, and then it went that way, and then we went down this drop, and around the side of that rock. See? It just doesn't do it any justice. So you'll have to trust me on this one - it was damn good. We wanted to portage ourselves upstream and run it again, but Juan just laughed us off. Next up was a swimmer's rapid - we were permitted to hop off the raft and lie back on our lifejackets feet-forward through this next rapid. Now, I've done swimmer's rapids before, and usually they're pretty dinky. And given that these guys weren't about to allow us to do any rapids where there was danger involved (as evidenced by one, maybe two, questionnable portages, in my mind at least), let's just say that I wasn't expecting much. I expected wrong. These were some vicious rapids that they unleashed on us - I probably swallowed a few litres of water. And the water was freezing! A strange dichotomy of temperatures: on the one hand, the sun was beating down on us in a rather hot fashion, and on the other hand, the water was a real weenie-skrinker. Damned if you do, damned if you don't. But when we were asked if we wanted to do the next set of swimmer's rapids, we unanimously don't-ed. The end was drawing nigh, and we pulled up on a shore and started carrying everything up a hill. One by one, we took up the dry bags, the coolers, the paddles and oars, and the rafts of course. Just as we were finishing, another group of rafts passes by, completey shattering our illusion that we were the only ones on the river. It was kind of heartbreaking and eerie in a strange sense. And the worst part? The majority of the tourists on these rafts that passed us were women, some of them fairly attractive women. Colin and Zach didn't mind so much, but I think Juan and Diego were a bit envious of the other guides. The trip back to Cusco was quick and uneventful. But we did get to witness some locals carry a live hog wrapped up in burlap and attempt to get it into a local bus. My guess is that they were taking it to market to sell or something. Also, we got a very beautiful view of the adventure that lies ahead - the van driver pulled over so that we could stop and gaze at Salkantay Mountain. But at long last, we got back to the hotel, and immediately fought over who would get the first shower. Let's just say that after 4 days, there was some massive body funk abound. Okie doke. I'm all out of stories for the first week. I'll leave our second adventure in Peru for my next update. As I'm sure you're figured out, this trip is already over, so I'm writing this on memory. We were camping too much to have enough time for me to write these along the way and get this to you in a more real-time fashion. But you'll survive. I have faith. -Paraag Tidbits: 1. During my Brazil trip travelogues, I fathomed that Spongebob Squarepants must be billed as SpongeRoberto SquarePantalones in Spanish-speaking countries. I was unfortunately wrong. The little fella goes by Bob Esponja. Though personally, I like my loose translation much much better. It would be much more muy guapo. 2. As with most 3rd world countries, Peru also requires you to throw your toilet paper into the wastebasket rather than the toilet. This is strictly enforced by the TP Police. It takes about 4-5 to really get used to this. And, as I've found, it takes about 4-5 days to un-learn this habit as well once you return home. Steve - you may want to make sure that you use your own bathroom for a bit until this unwanted habit completely goes away. 3. It's official and has been confirmed. Zach is indeed the only person who voted for GWB to ever travel a 3rd world country. As with every tour group in a 3rd world country I've been on, as soon as the tour guides found out we were Americans they asked us who we voted for. For some strange reason, they find it very curious that someone who lost the popular vote could win the election in what is touted as the democracy of democracies (Yes, Zach - I know that the US is not really a democracy, but most people do not know that). When Zach answered Bush to their question, they were shocked - they had never met someone with that response. Somehow, I don't think they asked the "who did you vote for" question so much after the Clinton-Dole election in 1996. I could be wrong though. 4. If you want more info about our rafting trip, you can visit www.apumayo.com. We were extremely happy with these guys - they were extremely particular about making sure that we didn't leave any garbage or refuse (even human) behind. And quite often, they picked up garbage that other tour groups had left behind.