terracotta shingles and adobe bricks

Cusco, Peru

We did make it to Cusco, the cosmopolitan heart of the Urubamba Valley. Hooray!

Sacsayhuaman ruins

During the road strike debacle that set us back several hours, Riley and I befriended Edgar, an animated restaurant owner from Cusco. Our conversation catapulted from finally learning what the strikes were all about to professing my new/found love of ceviche. He insisted we visit him at his cevicheria when we got to Cusco to try real ceviche. A few days later, we arrived half an hour after closing but he fed us anyway. After the amazing dinner, he only let us pay for the beer. Peruvian hospitality at its finest.


Ollantaytambu, Sacred Valley, Peru

I stayed in the tranquil town of Ollanta where Riley took the train to Machu Picchu- a much needed break from each other. Being his first time on his own, I wrote him a note of instructions and advice for getting to the archeological site itself having undergone the tedious process of train ride-entrance ticket-bus ticket-bus ride-ruins exploring-hiking-return bus ride-return train ride, last year.

Terracotta shingles and adobe bricks close-up. Construction materials of choice.

small town girls

Ollanta is flanked by two groupings of Inca ruins. One is cleanly excavated and expensive, the other is free but much more of a trek. I climbed the free one and had an ideal of view of the opposite side and had the place all to myself. Few things are more personally rewarding for the shoestring traveler than discovering a picturesque vantage point void of paying tourists.

the beauty of not paying

An assortment of chichas, a corn-based drink of the Andean highlands. I tried the carrot chicha and had some corn bread. I could barely finish the chicha, but a unique flavor none the less.

our hostal

These terracotta cows adorned most roofs in town meant to protect the household

Pisac, Peru

Known for their colorful artisan market, Pisac became an impromtu lunch break and modest shopping spree for Riley and I, en route back to Cusco.

How you know you're not in the States anymore. Glass coke bottles.

The view from the bus back to Cusco where we depart for Bolivia

how we fought off muggers and survived stone-pelting protesters

Uh oh. Shit is about to go down...

When we arrived to Trujillo from the Peruvian border town of Tumbes, we decided to stay in Huanchaco, a smaller, neighboring village. This dusty beach town is surrounded by the ruins of a civilization conquered by the Incas. We explored these ruins, lounged on the beach, and watched Gattaca in our hostal room. What seemed to be a lazy start to the Peruvian chapter of the trip would soon prove a bit more tumultuous...

Huanchaco, Peru

We watched surfers do their thing for most of the afternoon

Ceviche! One of my new favorite dishes of the trip. Raw fish in lime juice brine, flanked by roasted corn and yucca.

Meat on a stick lady, one of our Peruvian favorites, asked Riley and I if we were a couple. Um...Sure. So are you going to get married? Uh. Rather than present one of the million reasons why marriage is just not in the cards for me this year, I thought: good question. Married? I've never been married before. Riley? No, he hasn't either. Hah, would you marry me? Would you marry me? Well, we can't let down MeatOnAStickLady. You're right. Okay. I'm still waiting for the ring.

reed boats

candy apple and the beach

Ruins of the Chimor civilization (conquered by the Incas)
Around Huanchaco and Trujillo, Peru

Chan Chan ruins

Lima, Peru

Turron cake: flakey cookie layers, honey, and candy. Comfort food for the recently harassed.

Within 10 minutes of being in Lima, the famed ugly, dodgy capital of Peru, we were hassled and almost robbed by four street hooligans. Once our bus arrived to Lima, Riley and I had to walk a few blocks to another terminal to buy tickets to Cuzco. At 6 am after the usual discomfort of an overnight bus we were all heavy eyelids and fatigued reflexes. In other words, not in ideal shape to effectively defend ourselves against these thugs. And yet, despite outnumbering us 2:1, we managed to escape with all our belongings, without a scratch. A true traveler's rite of passage.

As Riley and I walked with a disgruntled swagger and in groggy silence towards the next terminal, I noticed four young men walking at suspicious distances from each other, behind us and quickly in our direction. One of them quickened their pace, paralleled Riley and I, and put his arm around R in a disgusting display of feigned camaraderie. Recollecting what happened from that moment to the end of the fiasco is hazy and fast. There was a lot of shuffling, grabbing, shouting (mostly on my part), and shoving. At one point one of them had his hand around R's neck. While one tried to hold back R, another tried getting at his pockets. Another grabbed my bag but I held tight, elbowing in all directions. Both R and I half-focused our efforts on pushing away our own attacker(s) while simultaneously intent on defending the other. It was quite the dance actually. And I was scared shitless and pissed. A taxi pulled up by the scene of our ghetto scuffle and I yelled "In the taxi! In the taxi!" I jumped in and Riley quickly followed. Our heartbeats returned to normal pace and we confirmed all our shit was accounted for. Did that just happen?! Are you okay?! It did and we were. Yet underneath our nervous laughter, we were beaming. How. badass. was. that. shit. I'm tempted to embellish the story a bit. Maybe let it slip that Riley body-slammed three of them to the gutter or that I bit off an ear, but the truth is, like most unexpected events, it all happened so fast. Our defenses were awkward and anything but suave, but in the quickness of the moment we put up a fight. Since it seemed they didn't expect we would, they eventually backed away realizing our pocket change probably wasn't worth it.

Sunday street procession

After that debacle, we got to the bus terminal, bought our tickets to Cusco and six hours later, we were out of Lima. In those six hours, I took a nap, we saw some catacombs, ate on the second story of a Dunkin Donuts where we watched a patron saint procession walk by, walked around the historical center and concluded Lima is a pleasant place. Also, we like our stuff.

just give them their money so we can go

What was supposed to be a 23 hour bus ride to Cusco, became a 41 hour nightmare on wheels through the disenfranchised provinces of Southern Peru. It began with a midnight breakdown. We waited four hours until another bus came to carry on the sleepy and agitated passengers on to their destination. Despite the inconvenience, it was a relief to switch out of our second rate bus with its overzealous heaters and swinging bathroom door that constantly wafted a pervasive diaper smell throughout. The bus that came to our rescue was executive class. Riley and I had to be separated, but we would be sleeping anyway. A few hours before reaching Cusco, a strike. Large rocks thrown into the road blocking our path and that of some 15 buses to follow. One sizeable stone hit Riley's window. We would later learn that political contentions (unequal distribution of public funds between provinces) spurred the obstructive act. We were stuck at a convenience station for the next 7 hours until roads could be cleared and culprits restrained. We filled the untimely delay with sweaty, sporadic naps, reading, exploring the nearby hills and creek, gorging on cheap ice-cream bars, teetering on insanity, and playing a rousing game of ¨chuck, fuck,or marry¨ which lost its novelty after 15 minutes. Finally, the bus started moving. But not before another stall at another convenience station where we ate some trout and I slept through most of the wait. Do we ever make it to Cusco?

so. bored.

At least we're stuck in this beautiful landscape

Waiting with warm beer. Warm. Like insult to injury.