Hola a todos:
I apologize for the lack of posts lately, but am excited to report that I survived the first portion of my trip, and am now ankle-deep in my study abroad experience. I am writing from my host family household, where I will stay for the next 4 months while studying social movements, human rights, research methods, and Spanish in Argentina. This post will cover the final leg of my solo adventure, and I will try to post a week-in-review every Sunday from this point on.
Cusco was one of my favorite stops, and I am eager to return. In fact, what I thought would be 4 nights in Cusco turned into a week and a half. I owe this to the incredible environment I stumbled upon at Hostel Caja Magica. This hostel doubles as headquarters for a nonprofit organization which helps educate and care for young children coming from impoverished families. They hire volunteers from all over the world to work with these children, and have helped to better the lives of many young minds. I hope to return to Cusco to be a part of this effort, as well as to visit some of the incredible ruins and natural wonders available in the surrounding area. On my journey from Ayacucho to Cusco, two different, yet both very catholic, men tried to get me going on the Jesus train, and I arrived at 4:30am and got dropped off in front of the wrong hostel in an overpriced cab, peed in a storm drain, and finally made it to the right hostel to find that they do not open the door until 7am. In other words: I was not thriving. However, when a lovely soul let me in at 6am to a cozy common room with A1 wifi, I perked up. The following week and a half was brilliant, including a trip to Rainbow Mountain, drinking my body weight in chicha (corn beer that costs a mere 15 cents per pint), singing, dancing, and hanging out with the hostel's pet llama, Juanito. The best thing about Cusco however, was the emphasis on mother earth, also referred to as panchamama. Inca culture is centered around mother earth, and although the Plaza de Armas and colonial architecture screams "Spaniard," Incan spirituality is as alive and vibrant as ever. It is a beautiful culture, and was an honor to learn about.
At my hostel, I met another backpacker from the U.S, and together we ventured to Machu Picchu. This can be done by train or by a combination of bus and foot. The cheapest option yielded the most opportunity for adventure (shit to hit the fan,) but we went with it. The 6 hour bus ride from Cusco to Hydroelectrica was beautiful but nauseating. One of my biggest accomplishments to date is not vomiting upon arrival. From there, we hiked along the railroad track for 2 1/2 hours with the rest of the cheapskates, and spent the night in Agua Calientes, formerly known as Machu Picchu Pueblo. The next morning, we woke up at 4am and hiked to the ruin. To say that photos do not do it justice is a massive understatement. It was humbling to see the vastness of the ruin, and the mysterious energy it holds, To this day, nobody is absolutely certain of what each room and element of Machu Picchu was used as by those that built it. That, coupled with our wispy blanket of fog just made the experience more rich, and we even got the classic tourist picture overlooking the entire city. Although we had an altercation with our tour guide and never received the full-on guided tour, we spent the entire day there and listened in on segments of many tour groups while trying to appear casual. It worked pretty well, and we got to explore beyond the tour groups and manage our time in the parts we liked better. Overall, a win.
The day I left Agua Calientes was a bit of a stressful one. We hiked back to Hydroelectrica, took our bus back to Cusco (no puke on the return trip too!!!) and arrived around 9pm. I then sprinted to Caja Magica, grabbed my stuff, withdrew a bunch of cash, took a taxi to the bus station, bought a bus ticket, got slightly lost in the bus lot, and found my 10pm bus to Copacabana with minutes to spare. This also felt like a win, until I got woken up at 6:30am and dropped off in the middle of nowhere while the rest of my busload continued on to La Paz. Dazed, confused, and wearing two very different smart wool socks, I tried to figure out where I was because it definitely wasn't Copacabana. I had yet to deal with boarder control, so I knew I was in Peru, and soon a woman united me with two other lost-looking backpackers and put us all on a bus to the Bolivian boarder. Once there, the three of us hunted for a migration office, checked out of Peru, crossed the boarder under a lovely looking archway, and found the migration office on the other side. They are French, and passed through with ease. I, on the other hand, had to copy every single piece of paper related to my trip, take two color passport-style photos, fill out additional immigration paperwork, and pay a fee in order to get a Bolivian visa, which then had to go through the standard boarder crossing process. Luckily, the visa lasts 10 years, but it is something that only U.S. citizens have to do. Our boarder crossing process is way more challenging for non-citizens, and it definitely put that in perspective. At the same time, I now have an absolutely disgusting picture of my 7am post-bus self in my passport and in the Bolivian immigration system for the next 10 years. Sweet.
The French ladies I found were heading to Isla Del Sol, one of the most famous islands in Lake Titicaca, to meet up with some friends, so I decided to join them because I didn't have a hostel booked. We took a cab from the boarder to the boat launch, and got some food and relaxed for a few hours until the boat came to take us out to the island. They're absolutely lovely, and we were very thankful to have found each other in these circumstances. The island was breathtaking, and we enjoyed some of the best views I've ever seen in my life. We hiked to the top of the mountain to watch the sunset, ate incredible seafood, and drank a ton of awful wine. It tasted like straight up Franzia. Bolivia is not famous for their wine. We picked up a lovely English traveler at our hostel, and the following day, we all went to La Paz together. That bus ride was almost as awful as the one to Hydroelectrica, but this one had some belligerent locals on it who were fun to talk to but also very loud and obnoxious when we were trying to nap. We arrived at an awesome party hostel in La Paz, and had a wonderful night, meeting some really cool people. This was also the Friday night of Carnival, and the festive energy of the city was palpable. Tons of foam, tons of costumes, and tons of color. My flight to Argentina left the following day, so I had to say goodbye to these lovely new friends, but I have kept in touch with a few, and hope to see them soon during their next travels.
As my time traveling came to a close, I felt incredibly grateful for the network of support and love I have both in Washington and California. This network has spread to many other parts of the world, and I am so fortunate to have met the people that I have on this journey. I haven't told my roommates this yet, but I have offered our couch in SF to many random people. Sorry, Sophia and Holly. Love you guys. I am excited to fully dive into my studies, and to re-introduce structure and scheduling into my life. Sending tons of love back home as always. <3
