Some months ago, my buddy Lindsay was chatting on-line with me about a trip she wanted to take. She'd got it in her head that she wanted to go to Peru, and all her usual traveling friends were indisposed and/or pregnant it seemed. She gave me a link to a site for some travel agency that did "adventure travel" and described a trip that not only included the requisite Inca ruins, but also involved volunteering with local children, and a cultural immersion experience. The anthropology degree in me perked up, and before too long, Lindsay had managed to get me to agree to come with her. Besides, Machu Picchu has always been on my "before I die" list.

    Fast forward 6 months or so, and I find myself in an airport. It is August 4th, 2007. I'm writing in my nifty leather bound travel journal, which hadn't been written in since 2001. I'm even using the same pen. This little book notates the mental aspect of major physical transitions I've been through, the last mentioned of which was my move to San Diego. So my only ride to the Los Angeles International Airport got me there almost 12 full hours before my scheduled departure time. Jen, the singer of earthshine, was making a scheduled trip to LA, and was kind enough to drop me at the airport on her way. For days, probably weeks, now I've had butterflies in my stomach about this trip, much in the same way one might when stepping onto a major roller coaster for the first time. I know it's going to be great, but I'm still a little nervous, because this is outside of the realm of what I know and am comfortable with. That is, of course, the point. Adding to the strangeness of it all is the fact that I'm going with the younger sister of one of my best friends, whom I barely know and haven't seen in years.
     I wile away the hours in the airport reading "The Incas" by Garcilaso de la Vega, to freshen up my historical knowledge of the region, and by writing in my little journal. I write, "I'm surrounded by people from all over the world and I can hear very little English being spoken. I should get used to this, since I will hear very little English being spoken for the next 2 weeks beyond my traveling party. I know an almost passable amount of Spanish, and hopefully that will serve me well. In my one previous travel outside the US, to Spain almost 6 years ago, I was with my brother and his wife, a Spaniard." Should I consider it ironic that my travels took me from Spain to the land of the Incas, like the conquistadors? I remember a conversation I had with my sister-in-law, while I was in Spain with her. Somehow we got on the subject of the time period, and piracy. The conversation went something like this:
Maria: "Those damned English and their privateers. They sanctioned the robbing of the Spanish Galleons coming from the new world!"
Me: "You mean the Galleons loaded with the gold that was stolen from the Meso-American natives? At least the privateers were attacking similarly armed and equipped foes, rather than bedazzled natives that took them for gods".
That ended the conversation pretty quickly.
    After my airport eternity finally came to an end, I boarded my plane (bound for Panama City, where I'll connect with my flight to Lima), and tried to get some sleep. I was mostly unsuccessful, since they were showing Shrek the 3rd and Spiderman 3 on the in-flight. I hadn't seen either one. For those of you considering flying to South America, give Copa Airlines a look, they had the best in-flight meals and movies I've ever seen. For not the first time, I saw dawn break through an airplane window.

Which allowed me to do some cloud watching, which I love

Flying into a new day


As we descended into Panama City, I had a fantastic view of the Panama Canal, and the downtown skyline of the city. Unfortunately, the captain had given the "no electronic devices" command, and I had already obeyed by putting away my camera. I'll have to remember to try to sneak some shots on my way back out after the trip is done. Lindsay and I met up in the Panama airport, since we were on the same connection to Lima. Arriving simultaneously will reduce the headache for both of us, we had agreed, and had worked it out such. After another long flight, and another showing of Spiderman 3, we arrived in Lima around 3pm. Getting through the airport was painless, and we shared a taxi to our joining hotel. I couldn't help but notice on the taxi ride that the architectural style amongst the common buildings in Lima was highly reminiscent of the Pueblo style utilized by the Hopi of Arizona, who are the descendants of another lost culture that once dwelled on mountaintops; the Anasazi.


We were both fond of the hotel in Lima. We were booked as companions, which meant we were sharing a room, but we got one with twin beds, and we're too old to get cooties, so there was no need to complain. I couldn't help but notice how poorly insulated the windows in the room were, and noted that it would probably get quite chilly in there during the night. Little did I realize that I should expect as much for the rest of the trip, as well. But there were ample blankets on the bed. We wandered around the immediate neighborhood, both giddy to be walking around in Peru. We stopped for dinner across the street at, of all places, Papa John's, sensing that it may be our last opportunity for familiar comfort food. Later we met up with the other members of our group that had arrived, consisting of 3 couples: John and Danielle, Amy and Tom, and Kirk and Victoria. The latter 2 couples were from Canada, while John and Danielle came from Philadelphia. We also met our tour leader, Anahi (pronounced: Anna-E). We went to a local restaurant as a group and began to get to know each other. So far it looks like its going to be a good group, I remember thinking.
   I received a 3am wake-up call, and we were all packed and back to the airport before the dawn to catch our flight to Cuzco. During the night, the last remaining members of our party, Nick and Steve, had arrived. Nick and Steve were both solo travelers, so they had been paired up by default. It's very hard to translate what I wrote on the plane that morning, since the plane's movement made my already indecipherable handwriting even worse. But I apparently found it necessary to point out that one of the flight attendants kept brushing her rear-end against me when she walked by in the aisle. It was a nice rear-end, so my mentioning it was not a complaint...
   With our arrival in Cuzco, the adventure officially begins. And that is where I'll pick up next.
Part One: Cuzco