Peru and Bolivia 2018

Peru and Bolivia 2018 

     As the one year anniversary draws near my heart can't help but reflect on this time last year.
A year ago I was preparing for a two week, solo trip to Peru and Bolivia. "Why?" Everyone asked. The only thing that has ever felt remotely okay for the anniversaries of my Dad's birth and death is to be traveling. I wanted mountains and a coast, I wanted two places, and I wanted to see the Salar de Uyuni or the salt flats in Bolivia. There were other things that made the trip feel like destiny: I would be leaving my 20s behind just a few months after the trip ended, and I was feeling so connected to the idea that the there had to be life outside of the horrendous episode of depression I'd been in for a while. I'd really like to share my trip experiences with you, reader. One year later I finally feel ready to share the magic and heartbreak that this trip was for me.

    The trip was, to date, one of the best experiences of my life. I don't say that casually, my life has held so many good moments. The trip is still easily top 3. I remember so much of it with such fondness I feel my chest ache. I made the decision to travel in January and within a few hours settled on Peru and then Peru and Bolivia. I spent the next 8 months planning. I planned incessantly, researched bus routes and hostels, backpacks, shoes, cures for altitude sickness, vetted tour companies, and read blogs. I made spreadsheets and budgets and started working an additional shift on Sundays to cover the cost. From January to August when I was feeling hopeless or lonely I planned. The trip was good for me before it ever happened.

   While I'd traveled solo many times it was always domestic, and my international travel was fun but very passive on my part. Someone else did all the planning and had all the responsibility.  I had to do a lot of work on myself to be ready for this trip. When you travel you are surrendering to the universe, you have so little control. Will the airline lose your bag? Will strangers be kind when you are lost (and you're naive if you think you won't get lost)? What if you get sick? What if you lose your passport? What if your flight gets cancelled? I had to surrender and trust that it was all going to work out. When anxiety crept in, I would say in my head "just trust it's all going to work out and let go." And so, with that in mind, and 6 pairs of leggings, 6 shirts, and a small stash of toiletries and art supplies on my back, I was off to Lima. One cancelled flight, one missed flight, and one new friend later, I arrived in Lima after midnight on a Friday night.

  For my Dad's birthday I bought a ticket to take a boat tour of the Ballesta Islands off of the coast of Paracas, Peru. I love boats, and water, and he did too. The islands were amazing and so was being on the water. I just wanted to be close to him that day. As expected, being gone on his birthday helped. I can't fully articulate my feelings on the subject yet but basically I promised him that I'd be fearless, that I'd chase my dreams with such abandonment of all inhibitions and certainty.  His birthday reminds me of this promise, and being far away at that time makes me feel like I'm living up to it.

     By the end of the day I really hit my stride as a traveler. I spoke english only to translate for those that didn't speak Spanish or to write in my journal. I engaged others in conversations and spent my time writing in my journal and drawing. No one had asked me about the current political leaders in the U.S. and I adjusted easily to the higher altitude.

   One distinct part of the trip was the 30 hour bus ride between Huacachina and Cusco. In terms of distance these cities are about half that amount time from each other, but they are separated by the Andes Mountains. So, one must go around if one is traveling by bus. Think traveling from STL to KC but not being able to drive through Missouri. Or, for my southerners, like going from Charleston to Birmingham without going through Georgia. Anyway, the bus ride was actually one of my favorite things. The seats on the bus are comfy and convert into beds that lay nearly completely flat. Of course I slept at night but during the day I listened to podcasts and looked out the window. At one moment during this, life felt perfect. All things painful and tedious were literally a continent away, and not a soul in the world knew exactly where I was. I was unfindable and thus fully connected to the present moment. And the present moment was my favorite podcasts, the most breathtakingly beautiful scenery I had ever seen, and the warmth in my chest signaling peace and elation. That moment, to me, is what I live for. Those are the moments I chase.

   The one downside to the bus ride was that barreling through the country with nothing longer than a 30 minute stop every so often was that there was almost no time to acclimate to the altitude and many people on the bus got quite sick. What had felt to me like a rowdy, enthusiastic bunch the day before was suddenly a silent, slow-moving group of people who looked like they'd just woken up from the deepest sleep of their lives.  I chewed the coca leaves I'd bought and rubbed lavender oil all over my face and hands. The taste was awful but I imagined moistened particles of the leaves absorbing into my body and for about ten minutes I had to focus fiercely on not throwing up. Fortunately the combination of coca leaves, lavender, and a real meal did the trick and I was feeling fine again within the hour. My shower and subsequent slumber in Cusco the next night were among the best of my life.

   Due to some circumstances I still don't understand, I ended up having a private driver drive me the 2 hour drive from Cusco to Ollantaytambo. Ollantaytambo is the town you need to get to in order to take the train to Machu Picchu. Unfortunately, the main route was under construction so the driver had to take back roads through some small villages. The driver, a very sweet and courteous gentleman, didn't know exactly how to get to Ollantaytambo taking the back roads so every few minutes he'd stop and converse with the locals. For the first time, I couldn't track what was being said around me. We were in a part of the country where the residents speak the indigenous language, Quechua. The driver told me about his mother and how she didn't speak Spanish, she spoke Quechua. He told me stories of how good Quechua speaking people are and that because of them we'd arrive in Ollantaytambo without any issue. And he was correct. The experience of ascending and then descending the mountain and seeing the small towns and people working and going about their daily lives was really incredible. I felt so lucky that the main road was down and that I got to see a little slice of Peru I wouldn't have otherwise. I was silently grateful to the inhabitants of the small towns  for letting me pass through. I wish I'd tried to thank them.

  Here's an excerpt from my journal "We ascended a mountain and there was Cruzpata. Then we had to descend and that was Urubamba. Then we got to Ollantaytambo and I got on the train no problem. The GPS had us arriving at 12:40. I needed to be there at 12:25 for a 12:55 departure. Again, I just had to let go. It did work out. Of course it did. The prevailing message is that it's all going to work out."

  I learned that they don't call it the "Sacred Valley" (Valle Sagrada) for nothing. It just feels magical. Maybe it's the remarkably beautiful landscape. Maybe it's the sound of the river right next to the town, or maybe it's all of the anticipation and then satisfaction of being on the way to or from Machu Picchu. Whatever it is, it's real. The town of Aguascalientes is sweet and busy. The room where I was staying was on the second story and a street view window. I opened the window and listened to the town below as I wrote in my journal and sent some pictures to friends. I had promised to check in every few days so they knew I was alive.

 When planning the trip, I initially excluded Machu Picchu. I was in it for the salt flats and had a limited amount of PTO. Logistically Machu Picchu is difficult and pricey to plan. It involves getting to a city (Cusco) deep in the mountains from which you have take a 2 hour car ride to a town where you take a 2 hour train ride to a town where you then take a 30 minute bus ride. Because of the way that the tours work, and to avoid altitude sickness, all of those things have to happen over the course of several days. And then you have to do it all again in reverse to continue to your next destination. I told one of my few friends who knew about the trip that I wasn't doing Machu Picchu and her protest was so significant that I re-worked the entire trip to fold it in (which took several weeks, by the way). On this side of the experience, I can't believe I almost didn't go. Truly, what a loss that would have been. There aren't words to describe it, there really are not. It was stunning. Every where you look it's so sensational and heavenly it's like you are dreaming. I just wanted to freeze time and hold on to those moments and that feeling forever. It was worth every moment of stress and penny four times over. The top pic is the Sacred Valley, the rest are Machu Picchu.

I returned to Cusco to the same hostel I had been before Machu Picchu. On a trip where I was sleeping somewhere different every night, coming back to somewhere familiar felt like coming home. Here's an excerpt from my journal: "I'm back at the Sunset House Hostel today. I was ready to go back to my same bunk downstairs but my past self is a genius and I apparently booked myself a private room with a bathroom and TWO towels. Genius."
     I came and went from my adjoining bathroom pooh-bearing (wearing only a shirt and no pants) all evening like a queen. This was halfway through the trip and I was so happy but so tired. I was walking so much and there was markedly less oxygen in the air which didn't make me ill anymore but did exhaust me. The next morning would be the first morning that I didn't have to be somewhere early, and my last in Peru. Feeling refreshed, I took this clean hair, clean clothes (finally did laundry), no make-up selfie after sleeping in the next day.

   My whole last day in Peru I kept internally getting pulled back to feeling so grateful for being here and sad to leave. It was bittersweet, I was sad but also ready for the next leg of the trip. I visited a cathedral that was built in the 1400s and a pre-Columbian Art Museum that was really interesting and enjoyable. I kept thinking about my compulsion to be fearless and how that would likely often include leaving things behind. The next morning I was stamped out of Peru and into Bolivia which was it's own adventure. Bolivians, fairly, are not fond of Americans. I felt grateful that they granted my visa which was not guaranteed and I had to jump through some additional hoops to make that happen. I don't blame them. I'm just glad they eventually accepted my request to enter.

  Bolivia was breathtaking. It was just so incredibly beautiful. It was also very different from Peru. The differences between Peru and Bolivia are analogous to the differences in the climate of the two countries. Peru is on the coast, much warmer, much more friendly, at ease, and inviting. Bolivia is inland and cold, even during the day. The people move with purpose and are busy and not likely to pay you any mind. In Peru people expected me to speak english, but in Bolivia no one spoke to me in english. There was an expectation that one speak Spanish despite being a native speaker or not.  Despite Bolivia having a certain chill to it socially and temperature wise, the people that I struck up conversations with were friendly and helpful. My first several hours in Bolivia were along Lake Titicaca. After a full day of hiking and boat rides I took a long bus ride to the city of La Paz and checked into my first hostel eeeearly that morning. Here are some pictures that demonstrate my earlier point of breathtaking beauty:

  I woke up later that morning rested but feeling anxious. I could hear the city hustling and bustling beneath my top bunk and it just made me want to stay inside and stay away. I had conquered Peru. I had become confident there. But this was Bolivia, and I felt small and invisible here. I wanted to go back to Peru. Slowly, like watching-ice-melt-slow, I forced myself into the city and while still feeling very timid enjoyed wandering around. I window-shopped for gifts for friends but didn't buy yet so I wouldn't have to carry everything around. I bought some snacks for the bus ride that night as well as some bacitracin and other essentials.

 That night I boarded an overnight bus to Uyuni which was about 10 hours south of La Paz. I had dinner on the bus and watched some of the movie that they were showing. I don't know the name of it but the move was about these three dudes that get separated from each other hiking back from Machu Picchu. I thought it was interesting that they were showing a movie with a terrifying plot line to a bus load of tourists. The bus pulled over right before the sun came up. Not everyone took the opportunity but I bundled up and walked outside so I could watch the sun rise. If I had to describe Bolivia in only two words one would be "beautiful" and the second would be "cold." Like below zero cold.

 

    Later that day I met my fellow Salar de Uyuni travel mates: a couple from Switzerland, and a family of three (Mom, Dad, and son) from Venice. We met our guide, loaded up our luggage and took off. The couple from Switzerland spoke German, Spanish, and English. The husband in the couple from Venice spoke Italian, very decent English, and very limited Spanish. The wife spoke Italian, almost no Spanish, and very little English. Their son spoke Italian, very good English, and limited Spanish. Our guide spoke only Spanish. Making a group decision was quite the process. It was actually really fun. I enjoyed talking to the woman from Venice. It was somewhat challenging but with my Spanish proficiency, her english proficiency, and the overlap between Spanish and Italian we were able to figure it out.

  The Salar tour was three days and two nights and the first day was my favorite. That's the salt flats day. I first learned about the salt flats years ago. I saw a picture online of the mirror-image landscape that the salar creates and was mesmerized. That's when I decided I'd go one day. When I started thinking about this trip and settled on Peru I realized Bolivia was Peru's neighbor. And in Bolivia are the salt flats. Perfect.

  So the salt flats are a giant salt desert. The ground is white (you know, like salt) and during the wet season it will rain and the water won't absorb into the ground right away, it just sits on top. The water sitting on the surface of the white salt creates a giant mirror for the sky. I wasn't counting on having the mirror experience, as that most likely happens during the wet season which was months away at the time. I got so lucky, though. Just the week before it had snowed, and over the last few days the snow had begun melting. It took a few minutes to find but eventually we found about 2 inches of water proudly sitting on the surface of the salt. I couldn't believe my luck. It's insanely beautiful. Like that existential, how-is-this-even-planet-Earth beautiful. See below. You'll be able to tell which ones are pre-water discovery and which are post. Both are so lovely.

I went a little bananas and as took my shoes and socks off to walk around barefoot. I just had to. I was just at peace. The idea of putting socks on wet feet and then having wet socks in my shoes for the rest of the day made me pause for a second but ultimately I decided it would be worth it. I regret nothing. 

Another fun thing about the Salar (as if the above isn't satisfaction enough) is that you can take cool perspective photos. Our guide was very patient and kind to take these for us!

  Soon the sun began to set which was, you guessed it, gorgeous.

     We drove another hour or so to the accommodations for the night. It was a small hotel in a rural part of the country that's only accessed for tourism and related commerce. There were other tour groups arriving around the same time we did so we had to wait a bit to get checked in. The Italian family and the Swiss couple got taken to their rooms within twenty or so minutes, and then slowly everyone else did as well. I was tired and also didn't want to rush anyone so I took a seat on the far end of the room and waited there. So much time lapsed that I started to feel like something was wrong. Not only had a lot of time passed but I also hadn't seen any of the employees or the guide for several minutes which only made me more suspicious. Eventually a woman, someone who I had identified as a manager or owner, approached me and apologetically explained that the all the rooms were full and they did not have space for me. She asked if I would mind sharing a room with one of the employees in the linen closet. She told me she'd make me a nice bed and that the employee I'd be sharing with wouldn't bother me. She assured me it would be fine because we were both girls. I told her that that was fine and she scurried away, I assume to make my bed.

    I was crushed and began crying as soon as she left. I really didn't care that the hotel was over-booked or that I would have to sleep in a make-shift bed with an employee of the inn. I was reacting to the sentiment that there wasn't room for me. Her statement that they didn't have enough room for me instantly and enthusiastically released all of my inner demons of being too much for people, being a burden, and not being worth it. I cried as I felt pangs of anger over wondering what I paid for? It's not that I wanted a room, it's that I wanted to not feel like a burden. When you pay for something you earn the right to have or use it. I had paid so that I wouldn't have to bother anyone, and yet I still was. The scarf around my neck and my sleeves were soaked with tears and boogers. I was sitting in the corner of a large room that was full of people. I was simultaneously terrified that someone would see me crying and terrified that they wouldn't. To my relief and disappointment, no one did. Or if they did they didn't approach me. In the end, I'm glad for that. In the moment I felt so invisible.

   At some point the intensity lessened and I began to work on having a good attitude. I told myself that this wasn't a big deal, it happens. It will be funny one day. I thought through how this wasn't personal, it was circumstantial. It had noting to do with me as a person, it was just an unfortunate situation. I reminded myself of the amazing day I had, the extreme fortune that it snowed just last week leaving a fresh layer of water over the salt just for me. I thought of the excitement of the next few days and reminded myself that when you travel, you surrender. By the time the woman returned I was calm and just ready to get settled, wherever that may be. She showed me to a room where the walls were lined with shelves of sheets and bedding. There was a small bed in the corner that I don't know if it was actually a bed or just a lot of padding all on top of each other or what but I didn't really care. It was comfortable, warm, and seemed safe enough. She introduced me to the employee who's room this was. I smiled and said hello and she looked at me with what I perceived to be a very reluctant look. Instantly I felt ashamed and like I was a burden but I didn't know what to do.

   Later at the dinner table my Italian and Swiss mates asked me how my room was and if they eventually got a room ready for me. They didn't know what ended up happening and I lied to avoid telling them about it. I had a feeling that my travel mates, while well-intentioned, would have made a scene out of the situation and insisted that I be refunded or given another room or invited me into one of their rooms and I was just ready to move on. While I enjoyed spending time with them, my travel mates were more comfortable with using their power as a consumer than I was and less interested in peacekeeping. I just didn't think it would be worth it to share with them what was happening. I stand by that choice, but it also made me feel more invisible and like I had a secret which I really don't like.

  Even though I was now no longer upset about it and just ready to move on, somehow it still stung. And I couldn't help but feel inadequate and overlooked as a solo female traveler. I went to bed before my roommate and I made sure that all of my things were tucked away nicely and that I was taking up as little space as possible. She seemed so unhappy to have me in her room so I just wanted to try not to exist as best I could. I pulled my headband down over my eyes so that I could leave the light on for her and went to sleep.

  Looking back, I think if the woman had told me that they were overbooked and would I mind sleeping in a make-shift bed I wouldn't have gotten so upset. What got me was "We don't have room for you." I don't blame the woman at all, she was in an uncomfortable position. It just hurt to hear it that way.

  The next day we drove all over Bolivia and as the day wore on the situation from the night before faded. Bolivia has several lakes that are "colorful." There's the the green one, Laguna Verde and the red one, Laguna Rosada. Technically "rosado" is Spanish for "pink" but in this case it's referred to as the red lagoon in english and the pink one in Spanish.

Day 2 ended with a long walk around Laguna Rosada. Our accommodations for that night were not too far so it was an easy adventure. The second night we were in an even more remote part of Bolivia than the previous night, nearly in Chile. There was barely electricity at the inn so we ate dinner by flashlight.
    I was really emotional that night. All I wanted to do was check-in via texting with a friend but the wifi was spotty and some of my travel mates were complaining quite excessively about that. Although I desperately wanted to talk to a friend I didn't want to make things harder for our hosts or come of as one of those obnoxious people that can't live without the internet. The inn did not have heat and it was insanely cold. Like, you-can-see-your-breath-inside cold. That night me and my two swiss friends were given a room that had about 10 beds. It was ironic to me that last night there weren't enough and tonight I could have 5 or 6 just for me. I somewhat shamefully removed the covers from 2 of the spare beds and put them on my bed because it was so cold. I put on two pairs of leggings, two shirts, my scarf, head band over my ears, two pairs of socks, and put a wool blanket totally over my face. I was not at all prepared for how cold it was. And at this point it was like 7pm so it was going to get way worse. My nose stung and bled on and off all night. I was really pretty miserable. I was so far away from everyone and all I wanted was to be close to someone. And I had to just get myself through it. I couldn't spiral or freak out, I had to just hold how I was feeling and ride the wave.
   I woke up the next morning prepared to go about my day in the clothes I was already wearing because there was no way I was removing any of them, even temporarily. It was way too cold to be shedding layers. I wrapped myself in my wool blanket and went to the table that way. When I returned to my room I grabbed the binder clip that I use to neatly store my phone charging cord and used it to clip my blanket on my shoulder as if it were a toga. I didn't care how ridiculous I looked, I was cold and this blanket was the warmest thing I had to wear. After breakfast was over I went around to all of the tables and emptied the left over hot water from the thermoses into my water bottle to keep my hands warm.
  Our car got stuck in the snow several times and several times we all had to get out and help push out. It was cold, dark, and miserable. I fell in the snow trying to push the car and instantly my legs were so cold. The moisture from the snow clung to my cotton leggings in milliseconds. Other tour guides kept stopping and asking if we needed help and our guide would respond "no" which I didn't totally understand but decided to trust him. After about an hour though of trying to get out and that not working I revoked that trust and approached an on coming car and asked him to please pull us out. He agreed and soon we were on our way. Also soon it was light out and much easier to go around the snow. The views later were worth it.

That night I was back on a bus to La Paz. I ate my dinner, changed into my jammies and went to sleep. Most of the nights of this trip I slept hard. Better than I do at home, actually. The next morning I was back in La Paz. I went back to the same hostel I'd been in a few days ago and got another bed. I wouldn't need it for too long, my journey back home would start around midnight that night but I wanted somewhere to leave my bag for the day and shower before my flight and all. The last several days I'd been winding down and knowing home was coming soon. I spent the day exploring La Paz and preparing to go home.

La Paz has a cable car system called the teleferico. It's to help improve the traffic and make it easier to get to the altiplano which is a higher elevation part of the city. La Paz is beautiful. I rode the teleferico around and just enjoyed looking at the city.

  I booked myself a hotel room in Orlando for the next night since I had a lengthy overnight layover. I made sure I had gifts for all my friends and made sure everything was packed correctly. I felt rested and was accepting of the fact that it was time to return home. Here's an excerpt from my journal: "I was worried about being the same person when I went home. I don't think that's the case. I've learned a lot practically and emotionally from doing this. I definitely feel rested."

 I struggled to come back home. I just didn't want it to end. I was very excited to see my friends, though. And tell them of my adventures. Also it would be nice to flush toilet paper and wear something other than my traveler clothes.

 Parts of the trip were devastating to me: the bitter cold and loneliness of wanting to connect with a friend but not being able to, the feeling of being a burden, the constant questions about how I could be so light skinned and haired and speak such perfect Spanish. Parts of it were also some of the best of my life: observing the most incredible scenery from my lounged bus seat while listening to Radio Lab, the spectacular view and magic of the salt flats, waking up in a different city every day feeling like the world was my oyster, the enchantment of the sacred valley and connection to the Spanish-speaking world I only feel while traveling.

  I am so grateful and privileged to have had the opportunity to take this trip. It did my soul so much good. I feel so relieved that I didn't cave to the pressure of not taking this trip and living a smaller life. It gave me these amazing experiences, and the knowledge that sometimes there's going to be pain because when you travel you surrender, and when you surrender you are vulnerable, and when you are vulnerable things can hurt. And they can also feel incredible. In general we all are our own worst critics and I am no exception. And not to brag or anything but I am especially skilled at being self-critical and indulging thoughts of self-hatred. But even I can't deny that with this trip, I was fearless.