Dear Blog: I know that I have been neglecting you recently, but don't think that it's because you're not important to me. You are, really. I've just been a little preoccupied lately, that's all. You say, "But, Emily. All of your other friends have been faithfully attending to their journals each day, without fail." Well, if it makes you feel any better, Blog, I've been ignoring Journal, too.
I wasn't kidding about going to the Amazon in my last post. Do you want to hear about it?
Well, I'll tell you anyway.
It was super dulce. (I'm trying to bring that to Perú. It hasn't caught on yet.) Our big group of gringos headed to the airport together around 5am?? and after a quick 1-1.5hr plane ride (nap), we found ourselves in Iquitos by... 9am?? (Blog and Journal are taunting me right now... I remember all of the important stuff, ok?!) Anyway, so it was another two hour bus ride and two hour boat ride to our lodge. I remember this specifically because while everyone else slept, I enjoyed one of my favorite things about traveling. The places in between places. As many shitty bus rides as I've experienced, still, for me, nothing can beat just staring out the window as the strange world flits by--catching glimpses of lives I'll never know.
We spent a lot of time on the river that weekend, spotting all sorts of different plants and animals like monkeys, sloths, parrots, bats, lizards, iguanas, pirhanas, poison dart frogs, gigantic termite nests, boa constrictors... etc., etc. And while all of that was absolutely fascinating, I think what I enjoyed more was visiting the villages along the riverside, talking to the people, listening to their stories and learning from them. And, of course, "supporting the local economy" (get excited for presents, fam). Oh, and I swam in the Amazon! So cool! We were advised to stay in a certain area because apparently the current was "really strong," or some nonsense like that. It couldn't be that bad, right? So me and a couple of the boys decided to quietly float downriver to the area where we had seen the dolphins just a little while before. And just about as soon as we left the bay area, we realized we weren't really swimming anymore, but being carried instead. The locals that we had just floated past enjoyed laughing at us as we frantically worked to get back into the safe zone before we were dumped somewhere in the Pacific Ocean. So after slowly and laboriously making our way back, we hopped up on a log to catch our breath for a moment and recover from the ordeal. We had been sitting for no more than a couple of minutes when I looked over and noticed a spider the size of my palm resting calmly on the back of one of the boys' legs. Of course, my natural response, instead of helping him or using words, was to yell nonsense and point. He then proceeded to flick the spider right into my horrified face. And that was when we decided that we had had enough swimming for one day.
Before catching our flight back, I had the opportunity to wander around Iquitos for a while. Iquitos is a fascinating city. Whole neighborhoods of crooked houses on stilts teeter above the water just off the bank, surely about to slide right in at any moment. Between the stilts glide flat, narrow boats filled with people going to and from their homes, often jumping in to swim and escape the heat of the sun for a while. Just two blocks away from these floating neighborhoods where people drink from and swim in the same water that they throw their waste into, are huge, incredibly intricate and beautiful colonial buildings, gorgeous churches, and even a striking steel building built by Gustave Eiffel, the same man who built the Eiffel Tower in Paris. During the rubber boom in the 19th century, wealthy Europeans invested beaucoups of money (yeah, I had to look that one up... I've never had to spell beaucoups before) into the city and then once that was over, it fell into poverty once again. Kind of a sad story, but it makes for a really interesting place.
Exactly four days after returning from the Amazon, we departed once again, this time for Cusco. Honestly, the first time I went to Cusco, I was underwhelmed. Even at Machu Picchu. Maybe my expectations were too high because of all the hype it gets, but either way, the whole thing felt staged. Being shuffled around in a wave of other tourists and guides yelling over one another through Incan ruins that have always seemed so tranquil in the photos was not exactly what I had expected. But even going in with such a negative outlook, I wound up having an extremely profound experience at Machu Picchu and making some great memories with my friends in Cusco. At the ruins, instead of climbing Wayna Picchu like I had done last time, we wound up climbing the larger Machu Picchu mountain. For some reason, Wayna Picchu is the much more popular and desired route, maybe because its access is limited to 400 people a day. But if you ever make it to Machu Picchu, I definitely suggest the other alternative instead. Machu Picchu is a longer trek to the top, but the trail is surrounded by green forest and butterflies flit between the dozens of different varieties of orchids that line the path. Every turn reveals a different but equally breathtaking view of the ruins or the river valley or the surrounding mountains. We climbed early in the morning while the fog was still heavy and we had the whole mountain to ourselves. At the summit, I found a small ledge off the side of the mountain overlooking the river that I could just see between the slowly dissipating clouds. I took the opportunity to hang back a while and let the group go on ahead of me. I soaked up the complete silence that is almost impossible to find in the bustling metropolis of Lima. My peaceful isolation took on a new light as I was climbing back to the path and took a peek over my shoulder at the edge of the mountain at my heels... Another wise decision made. But I was fine, no need to worry, Dad!
My time in Cusco was spent visiting approximately a thousand churches, a dozen plazas of varying sizes, a chocolate museum!, and the colorful artesenia markets. Given that it was Semana Santa (Easter weekend), some sort of festivity or procession seemed to be happening at all times. When all seemed to be still, I would turn the corner and find a new plaza with a crowd of people dancing around waving white handkerchiefs, or a simple group of parishioners at dusk following a crucifix with candles in hand, singing a familiar hymn. I went to mass in the morning on Sunday and could hardly make it past the doors of the largest cathedral in South America. I managed to find a place where I could see the altar and was even able to receive Communion, but then found that the only way out after mass was to let myself be pulled along with a hundred other people squeezing their way out of the crowd of people that had already arrived for the next mass. To say the least, I left Cusco for the second time with a totally different perspective on it than the first time.
My housemate's dad is visiting her this week so yesterday we went with him and our Peruvian parents to Caral, the ruins of the oldest civilization in the Americas. Just a quick day trip, or so we thought. We left the house at 9:30am, took a taxi to the center of Lima, got on a bus, discovered that it was the wrong bus, argued with the employees at the bus station, got on the right bus, rode three hours to the small town of Barranca, ate lunch, took a taxi to Supe which took about an hour and a half, then another taxi from there to the ruins, another hour and a half. By then, it was too late to walk through the ruins and we were only allowed to walk up to the mirador to get a birds-eye view of the whole ancient city. Then after about an hour, we did the whole thing in reverse. We got back around 10:30pm covered in sand from the wind. I quickly showered and got to studying for my exam the next morning at 8am. Super hectic day but one spent laughing and talking with my family, learning from them, and seeing the gorgeous agricultural areas of coastal Perú.
A lot of my time has been occupied with traveling around Perú but I have a life here in Lima too! But I can't say that it's at all stable. I don't really have a daily routine or even a concrete group of friends. Every day is different. Different people, different places, different experiences. Some days I'll come home expecting a relaxing evening after a long day of classes and find fifty people in the house for a surprise birthday party or a baby shower complete with clowns and keyboard players. Or I will have some Friday or Saturday free and decide to go to Miraflores to see some art exhibits and end up in San Isidro instead. Or I will go to the Center of Lima for a book fair at the Palacio de Gobierno and end up being shown around the black market of books instead. Nothing ever happens the way that I expect. The only constant seems to be getting lost on the way home. But I've learned to expect it and just enjoy the hour long walk home from wherever I unintentionally end up. While it's always an adventure, the exhaustion has managed to catch up to me. Not sleeping, not understanding what's going on in class, getting lost on the way to or from somewhere, combined with the pressure to "take advantage" of my time here leaves me totally physically and emotionally drained at times. But it's nothing that a good cry, a talk with your mom, and a 13-hour night's sleep can't fix.
My time here is winding down so fast. I have only two months left here, which seems like nothing since the first three passed like lightening. When I'm back in the States for good (or at least for another year or so) I know that all I'll have left of this are photos, a few striking memories, and the rest will disappear or distort with time. I have this overwhelming desire to take each moment, each sound, each smell, each taste, every detail and know it by heart so I'll never lose it. I suppose that's impossible but after it's over, I hope I can appreciate this time as one of those images that fly by my bus window--beautiful in its impermanence.
