going up

And just as suddenly I was transported to another world.

Appearing out of nowhere within the sea of the Andes, we'd land in the tiny Cusco airport, 3399m above sea level, without incident. I'd meet another traveling acquaintance on the way from Lima, plans would made for later on drinks. A prearranged driver would take me a chatty 25 minutes to the center of town.

Soon I'd become acquainted with Cusco, its many churches, complicated history, and lore. Poor but beautiful, full of cobbled charm and indigenousness. Textiles, tourists, some of the best food I've ever eaten.

But at this point I was terrified.

So many google searches gone awry: terms like altitude sickness, soroche, lungs filling with fluid, aneurysms, nausea, migraine, fatigue....

I'd psychologically braced myself for the worst.

I would eventually compare the reality of what I felt to having had one too many midday beers when you're not yet hungry for dinner. Add to that extreme exhaustion and breathlessness and I was feeling... weird.

Coca tea was served for free, in abundance, believed to ease the symptoms. In spite of my needing, as minimum, fourteen hours of sleep that day, I'd say it worked.

Countdown: three days to catch my breath.

lima, linda

I became more aimless while this otherwise sweaty, frantic city became a little more beautiful.
The sun began to set, things began to slow down, cool down, quiet down.
Suddenly surrounded by people taking strolls just as leisurely as I. A mix of locals and gringos lounging on the grass. My temporary residence of Barranco offering clues of what it might be like to actually exist within this crazy city but beyond its crazy fray. La vida cotidiana.
A walk along the cliffs, the token ice cream cone. The sun setting over the Pacific. An hour plus exploring the supermarket. A shoeless siesta in the outdoor courtyard of my hotel.
I'd soon discover how easy it is to make foreign friends when you're so obviously a gringa. A conversation companion, a dinner companion, a cool and breezy evening leading up to an early morning flight.

Lima, I might just miss you a little. But I'll be back very soon.

buenos dias

Early morning wake up. Complimentary breakfast. Hot coffee. Lazy plans. The kind woman at the reception now calling me by name, giving suggestions, drawing on xeroxed maps with highlighters and red pen.
A walk, a bus, swept quickly into summertime. Changing of the guards, cathedral tours, art sought (somewhat futilely).
Back for a nap. Cooling off.
Tourist mode resumed.

estoy aqui

A late night arrival that couldn't help but feel cinematic. Summertime temperatures, Peruvian radio soundtrack, honking collectivos, a daze of poverty and urbanism whizzing by. My poco español suddenly called upon. My driver pointing to and fro. Arrival to my modern hotel, greetings with promised South American hospitality.
A cup of tea, a tiny chocolate, a hot shower. Falling deeply asleep as if already in a dream to unfamiliar sounds of traffic and radios and ruckus.
Tomorrow: a tourist.
Bienvenidos al Peru.

so it begins. again.

At some point: wanderlust.
In a whirlwind of familiar restlessness, I booked a trip to Peru.
Included: Lima, Cuzco, a four day hike to Machu Picchu.
A month to prepare in terms of logistics and endurance.

Here we go again.

january

<

January will forever be a marker month for resolution and reinvention. I thought I had shied away from such notions but in hindsight this crossover into a new year would prove to indicate a new beginning even for me, in spite of my supposed intentions.
Never one to fear the passage of time, I found myself wondering how this joke of a winter season could already be making its way towards spring. Global warming aside, thoughts crept in as to how this new version of my life and mindset might be affecting my consciousness of the day to day....
....And in so many ways I was tired.
Tired of the indulgence, of the sensory overload. Tired of inevitable ups and downs and lack of tangible control. Happy though I was (usually), I was admittedly exhausted.
So.

It became something else: a red light, a pause, a time out.
And I discovered that the very act of imparting rules upon myself was in its own, unexpected way a reassurance of all I am able to do or change for myself.

Another lesson.
Another month.

...full of friends and food and coffee and art and getaways and everything else becoming this city routine.

But this time with eyes open.

Change, when you least expect it, as usual.

2011 - 2012

Part of me continues to expect there to be an actual stopping point where I can look back and really see how far I have come and how different I feel.
But that moment never comes the way I expect it to.
I wouldn't be able to join the bandwagon of 2011 being absolute greatness from start to finish.
Good and bad. Happy, sad. Terrified then confident.
Lessons learned, still learning.
And this time around, I feel even less compelled to make a plan or declaration for this new year suddenly upon me.
Here we are, here I am. Things never stop, things are never clear.
These days I am most often happy, calm, contented.
(Grateful and lucky).
But there will always be confusion and curiosity.
Things will always change.
I will always be looking back.

Happy New Year to me.