Hook, line and Inca (Peru Part II)

Back in Peru, I decided to find a tour that went to Manu National Park whilst killing time before doing the Inca Trail. I had some bolivianos (the Bolivian currency) left over, so first things first, I went to get my money changed at one of the many "cambio" booths in Cuzco. But as I went to pay for my lunch with one of my nice crisp 50 sole notes (about $16 AUD) the lady informed me that they couldn't accept it because it was a photocopy. A really bad photocopy; I couldn't believe I hadn't noticed earlier, it was so obvious once she pointed it out. It wasn't even the same size as a normal note. In short, a really bad forgery. Not one to take this lying down, I stormed back to the man at the cambio booth and informed him that I had received a photocopied note from him and I wanted a real 50 sole replacement. Of course he denied everything, but I knew it had come from him because the only other money I had was from an ATM. So I threatened to go to the police and to my surprise he offered to come with me. We found a policeman on the street, but he only spoke Spanish, so the he called the "Tourist police" who rocked up in a shiny car and told us to hop in. I don't normally get in cars with strangers, but they were wearing uniforms and the car was clearly an official one. After much toing and froing, the cambio guy offered me 40 soles. I laughed in his face, as to me this was clearly an admission of guilt and told him firmly that I wanted my full 50 soles. Eventually he caved and I got my money... my REAL money. Cambio guy 0 persistent gringo (me) 1! I love when the good guys win. And I still have the fake note as a souvenir.

So I booked a three day tour of the Peruvian jungle, as that was all the time I had, but of course it wasn't long enough. When the bus picked me up early the next morning, I realised I was in a tour group with six much older people. I had obviously booked with Granny Tours. But they were really friendly, if a little opposed to anything too strenuous. The bus trip to our lodge in the middle of the jungle was interesting, as the roads were awash with rain and the driver and guide had to get out on numerous occasions and dig us out of a bog with a pickaxe. It was like driving with Sam (:P). We then transferred to a boat where we were delivered to our jungle lodge complete with mosquito nets, cold showers and lazy hammocks. It was a cool little place and we all fell asleep to the sounds of frogs and crickets chirping through the mesh windows.

The next day we got up at 5am to go "bird watching". This apparently excited the geriatrics on our trip, as they eagerly wielded their binoculars and wide lens cameras. I, however, will not be taking up bird watching as a hobby any time soon. We sat across the bank of the river watching a part of dirt cliff where apparently the birds all hang out early in the morning. But we were out of luck this morning, as the birds obviously enjoyed sleeping in as much as me. We were so far away you could only see birds through their special bird watching telescope anyway. It failed to excite my interest. So after an interesting breakfast of hamburgers on the side of the river, we boated to our next destination where we went on a bit of a walk to see a huge old tree and I tried to get some good photos of butterflies and flowers, which there were plenty of.

We also went on a "gondola" ride in a river complete with wooden raft and saw some prehistoric birds and woolly monkeys as well as some other weird looking animals. We picked some bananas for dessert and got a crash course in jungle medicine before heading back to camp. The next day we already had to head back to Cuzco. I had one day to recover before starting the Inca Trail, which I had booked three months ago with a company called Llamapath. I had to attend an information session that night and got to meet the group I would be hiking with, a group of 11 of us. Five couples... and me. Ever had to be an 11th wheel? No, only kidding, it wasn't like that at all and everyone in my group turned out to be really lovely. In our group were Kerry and Bruce, a couple of lively Americans from Salt Lake City; Adam and Sarah who were honeymooning medical graduates from Manchester, England; Sindre and Jurenn from Norway; Grant and Anne from New York; and Anje and Camil, the youngest in our group and least experienced hiking-wise, from Poland.

So day one we left Cuzco while it was still dark (some of you must be wondering how I am coping with all these early mornings on the hikes... the answer is strong coffee!) for a bus to a restaurant for a buffet breakfast of pancakes, eggs, fruit and... strong coffee. Then we drove to the starting point for our hike and after stowing some of our heavier items with the amazing porter team, (affectionately nicknamed "The Red Army" due to their red uniforms and backpacks) we were off. The first day day of walking lulls us into a false sense of security, as the weather is nice and warm, the hills not too steep and the hummingbirds and butterflies guide our path. Lunch is provided by the porter team, who already have a tent set up for us to eat in and all the cutlery and crockery set out waiting for us. We also have warm bowls of water for washing hands and a cold glass of juice. The food is amazing and this is the standard of excellence we become accustomed to throughout the trek. Talk about luxurious hiking! We arrive to our first camping spot at about 4:30pm, where of course our tents are already all set up with foam mattress and all. We all have a celebratory beer as the night sky grows dark and the most stars I have ever seen emerge from the darkness, as well as Jupiter. That night I start to feel a bit ill, headache and a sick feeling in my stomach. I figure a good night's sleep is all I need and fall into bed.

The next morning I feel alright and I feel even better after drinking the coca tea that is delivered to my tent door early in the morning by a porter. I feel a little tired, but ready to take on the most difficult second day, where we climb from 3300m altitude to 4200m, then down again. We walk uphill through beautiful jungle, interrupted only by a herd of alpacas coming through. Suddenly the uphill becomes much steeper, until the last killer flight of uneven granite steps, which make your thighs and calves ache just to look at them. We arrive to the peak, appropriately named "Dead woman's pass" (not because that's how you feel when you get there, of course, but because there is a rock shaped like a woman's nipple at the top) to a standing ovation from our Red Army. Adam passes around a bottle of rum for a celebratory swig and it warms the cockles of the heart, as it is pretty cold and foggy at 4200 metres. We all get our "Japanese moment" photos (as our guide calls these Kodak moments) and then begin our descent... a very steep descent. I'm feeling alright until about halfway down when I start to feel a little nauseous. We stop for lunch and when I lay down and it is a struggle to get back up again. I eat some lunch, then immediately throw it up again. I sit and drink some tea and then I vomit again (sorry about the ew factor, but I just want to illustrate that I felt more than a little sick at this stage). When it comes time to hike again, I am certainly not feeling up to it. I have no food in my belly, no energy and I am spewing up everything.

At this stage, the collective kindness of my group almost brings me to tears. Sarah walks with me even though I am lagging way behind the group, Adam lends me his walking stick and Anne even takes my backpack for me, as she doesn't have one. I can't remember ever feeling so ill in my whole trip and top of it all I am being forced to hike uphill when all I want to do is curl up in bed - it seems like an impossible task. I feel as weak as a 100 year old lady so that each step looks like a mountain and I am stopping every 5-10 minutes to take a breather. I try to eat an apple only to throw it up 5 minutes later. I don't think things could get much worse until it starts to drizzle down. Finally, I'm nearly at the top of the second pass, so I muster my last atom of energy, even though I feel like a ten tonne deadweight powered by a little AAA battery that is almost dead. But somehow I make it and our guide finally decides I need an antibiotic and it helps me to continue the rest of the way, which thankfully is downhill. My legs are like jelly and I walk mindlessly. The rest of the group visit an Inca site which is at the top of an extremely steep flight of stairs, but I decide to give it a miss and continue to the campsite alone. Thank God for the porters, they have the camp set up and as soon as I tell them "Estoy infirma", they provide me with some warm water and I crawl into my sleeping bag and get some much needed rest. I wake a few times to loud thunderstorms and torrential rain, but mostly I sleep right through dinner and everything. I wake up at 2am feeling ravenously hungry, so I eat a mandarin, stumble around the dark campsite for a few minutes trying to find the toilet then almost get into someone else's tent. But I didn't throw up the mandarin, so I figured I was feeling better. Then I went back to bed and slept right through to the morning.

The next day was an easy day, our guides, Raul and Edwin assured us. I was feeling better, still not much of an appetite but I could hold food down, so that was good. I don't remember much about the third day, I guess we were all pretty tired, but after 5 hours we made it to the next campsite. The boys played a game of high altitude soccer and I took a hot shower for 5 soles - I don't mind saying, it was the best 5 soles I ever spent. Even our guide commented that I looked like a new woman. We also went to see a huge Inca site called Winay Huayna (Forever Young) which was a great warm up for the main attraction the next day. That night we farewelled the porters and tipped them generously, as they did such an amazing job of looking after us and smiling the whole time.

The final morning we got up at the ungodly hour of 3:30am, but I drank my chamomile tea and made a concerted effort not to talk to anyone, especially Raul who was being overly chirpy. The sun came up as we walked through the checkpoint and this time our group was one of about ten others walking in a steady line. We walked at a cracking pace, eager to get there, but the serenity of the journey was sort of wrecked for me by the amount of people. One more flight of almost vertical steps and we made it to the "Sun Gate" to see our first glimpse of Machu Picchu, the lost Inca city. The weather was perfect and clear with just a wispy mist hovering at the tops of the green covered craggy mountains. The granite stone ruins stretched out beneath the sheer mountain which rose up out of the ground like a tombstone. All the hikers took their dorky victory photos and we got the group shots you see in all the tourist brochures. They allow 500 people on the Inca trail per day, and an additional 1500 to the Machu Picchu site itself. So you could imagine, there were a lot of people there and it was really weird after being isolated in the mountains for so long. Raul gives us a 2 hour tour of the ruins, but it is so hot and everyone is fading.

So we are left to our own devices for a while and we watch some llamas stealing an apple straight from a lady's mouth and then we have a "National Geographic" moment as Bruce calls it as we watch a tiny bee carrying a huge tarantula up a vertical cliff face. I wander around for a while until the heat wears me out and then catch a bus down to the little town of Aguas Callientes to meet the others for lunch. Afterwards we hop on the train for a slooooow two hour ride through the middle of the mountains back to Ollantaytambo, where we started. From there we hop on a Llamapath bus back to Cuzco.

That night I had an amazing sleep, before flying to Santiago, my final destination. There isn't much to be said about Santiago; it's a nice enough city, but there isn't a whole lot to do and I find myself just chilling out and relaxing with the guys in my hostel, counting down until my flight home.

So, there you have it, my final blog entry. Thanks for reading and keeping up with my adventures. I had a blast, but it's good to be home and to be able to tell you all my stories in person.

Tam biet, sayonara, selamat tinggal, hou doe, au revoir, ciao, elveda, aufwiedersehen, adios, farewell!
(see how many languages you can recognise...)
Megan

Sound of Music, Salsa dancing and Sculptures

Well, I have had a lot of adventures since my last blog. So where was I? Well, I believe last post I was bored out of my brains in the middle of nowhere in Austria. I left this place refreshed and ready to take on the world and headed straight to Salzburg, the home of the Sound of Music and classical music. The city was beautiful with huge baroque buildings surrounded by mountains; I felt like I had stepped into the 18th century, or some time around there. I also found out this stage, after not using it for 3 weeks, that my bank card had expired. It seems no matter how prepared you are, things like this will always pop up. I think I need to interrupt this blog to say that I have the best mum in the world. She jumped into action straight away at home and made sure that I wasn't without cash for too long. That night I had to find somewhere to watch Holland play Uruguay, so on a recommendation from the hostel I found a huge Oktoberfest-style beer hall inside a monastery with huge steins of beer and a massive screen. I met a friendly group of Israeli guys who bought me some massive beers, and then after the fantastic game (which Holland won) we found a salsa night club. Yes, I went salsa dancing in Salzburg with some Israelis. Just another day in the world of backpacking.

The next day I did the Sound of Music tour, since everyone on Facebook told me it simply had to be done. The tour was led by a lady wearing a Julie Andrews style hill-twirling costume who took us to many places where the movie was filmed such as the huge house they lived in, the lake they fell in, the gazebo where Liesel fell in love and the gardens where they sang "Do re mi". We had a good singalong on the bus to the soundtrack and that night I watched the movie itself so I could recognise all the places. I really forgot how much I love that movie. I swear for the next week I had all the songs on repeat in my head.

Next stop was a town called Innsbruck right in the Austrian Alps. I arrived at this town and it was the first time I had arrived anywhere without pre-booking. I think it will surely be the last. Apparently there were some medical exams going on, so the whole place was booked out by students. Just my luck. So I spent 3 hours frantically calling place after place on the Internet before I finally found a rather expensive room a little out of town, but conveniently located at the foot of the alps. Relieved that I wasn't going to have to spend the night sleeping in a train station or park bench, I had a well-earnt bath and then collapsed into my large and expensive double bed. The next day I caught a cable car halfway up the mountains, then hiked to the summit. The view was well worth it. I felt on top of the world and even spotted a wild mountain goat. As I was descending, however, I went a bit off the beaten track and ended up almost rock climbing, but without the safety of a harness. There were a few hairy moments where the rocks got a bit slippery and as I watched some loose rocks fall the 600m or so down the mountain I decided it was time to go back the way I came. I don't think my travel insurance covers stupidity.

So from Innsbruck I caught a long overnight train to Rome, back to Italy, where I would be meeting up with Fi and Shelley. I was excited but completely exhausted, yet somehow I couldn't seem to get any sleep on the 10 hour train ride. Maybe it had something to do with the school and scout groups that were all over the train. But I made it to Rome and checked into a camping site about 20 minutes out from the city centre where a friend of Fi's welcomed me and I gratefully fell into a deep sleep under a tree by the pool. That night I had dinner with Katrina (Fi's friend) and her family, a good old fashioned aussie BBQ with sausages and kebabs. It was pure bliss. The next day I awoke to find that Fi and Shelley had arrived and we kept hugging because I simply couldn't believe they were really there. We caught the train into town for Fi and Shelley's first Italian meal, during which a pigeon thought it would be funny to poo on Fi's head and in our drinks. Well, they do say it's good luck. Welcome to Rome. We then did a bit of shopping, as girls tend to do when they get together, especially when every shop window is shouting "Saldi!" (sales). We threw our coins into the magnificent Trevi fountain, then we went back to laze by the pool and get ready for the World Cup final between Holland and Spain. Unfortunately it was a ridiculously boring game and the outcome was disappointing and Fi and Shelley were struggling to keep their eyes open, so we went to bed, as we had an early start in the morning to get to the Vatican.

We had a booking for 8:30 for the Vatican museum. So we left at 7:30 to catch the train. But the train had other ideas. Let me tell you a bit about public transport in Rome. They consist of rickety old trains covered in graffiti and with no air conditioning and they are usually so packed that you can't get a seat. This is an issue when every day is 40 degrees. And when the train decides to stop for 10 minutes at every stop and then even in between; which is what this train did. Everyone was looking pretty frazzled, fanning themselves and then finally someone knocked on the train driver's cabin and asked what the deal was in Italian. Only then did an announcement come over the speaker, and it mustn't have said anything reassuring because everyone groaned. I asked a man what it said and he replied "They are having technical difficulties". Well duh. So what should have been a 20 min train ride took us an hour and we didn't get to the Vatican until 9:30. Luckily our booking still held, because the queue was already about 1 kilometre long as it weaved around the city walls in the hot sun (I am not even exaggerating). I was definitely glad to pay the extra 4 euro booking fee to skip that queue. I felt a bit like VIPs getting into an exclusive club. Except that this club was full of sculptures and religious artwork and the Sistine Chapel. Amazing yet totally overwhelming.

We then went to see St Peter's Basilica and climbed the 320 steps to the top for an amazing view of Rome. The church itself was by far the most amazing I have seen, with such intricate detail in every square inch of wall and you sort of had to wonder at the decadence and power of the Catholic Church. Shelley and I got a photo with the Swiss guards who made sure we kept a healthy distance and then we decided it was time for some of the best gelati Rome had to offer. Katrina took us to a place which was so packed you couldn't even read the flavours, but it was definitely some of the best gelati I've had.

The next day Shelley and I went to see the Colosseum and Roman Forum. We got a summary of over 2000 years of Roman history in about ten minutes and we stood at the top of the Colosseum just staring at the very place where years before people watched as slaves were eaten alive by exotic animals. And I thought human kind was messed up nowadays. That night we went out for dinner with Katrina and then went out for a few drinks. We met a very interesting character as we were downing our Mojitos... he looked like he was trying to be Axl Rose from Guns n Roses and he was surely wearing more make up than the 3 of us combined. He was also generously tattooed and kept us entertained all night with his anecdotes. On the way home, I suddenly became very fluent in Italian and chatted to our taxi driver all the way home in what I thought was perfecto Italiano.

Soooo, we shopped, ate and drank our way through the Rome heat, but after 3 days, it was time to part ways with Fi and Shelley again and move on to my next destination; Naples, then the Amalfi coast. Stay tuned for more adventures... it only gets more exciting. :)

xxxxxooooo Meg

The hills are alive... with the sound of cow bells (oh ohoh ohhhh)

When I first landed myself in the southern Austrian Alps, I must admit, I thought I was on another planet. And all I wanted to do was get back on that eight hour train and ten hour overnight bus right back to the tranquil waters of Croatia where the sun always shines and the people are friendly. When I arrived it was rainy and cloudy, I swear I didn't see the sun for the first 72 hours. And my first encounter with the locals was at the Grünhütte, a bar/cafe atop a mountain where a dirty old drunken farmer obviously well on his way to paralysis slurred some words in some weird dialect of German in my face and tried to put his hand on my knee. Needless to say, I put it right back where it came from and informed him that "Ich spreche nicht gut Deutsch", which in English means "Please stop talking to me, you dirty old farmer (figuratively speaking)". I was pretty glad to get out of there. So why did I bring myself to this strange land you might ask?

Well, it is all in the name of saving money. Same as I did Workaways in Italy, I decided leading some hiking tours in the Austrian Alps wouldn't be so bad. And it isn't. As I'm finding as I travel, when you tough things out, they only get better. Sometimes they can even be a highlight, as my sister Beth would say. This probably isn't a highlight, but it's not so bad. A few days later the sun came out and I even got to lead a couple of people on a hike (despite not even having walked it myself... it's okay, I can read signs). One of them turned around and went back a third of the way through, so the two of us remaining toughed it out, even though it was kind of rainy and it was all uphill. So the deal is I get 2 euros 50 for every person I take on a hike, and then at nights I work about 4 hours behind the bar at the Hotel. For this I get meals, a bed and unlimited beer, wine and soft drink.

Yesterday I had to map out a new hiking route. This new hiking route should probably take 4 hours, round trip. For me, it took 6 and a half. Now, before you think I am extremely unfit and ridiculously stupid, I was armed with a really crappy map (which I subsequently dropped in a creek when I bent down to get a drink of water... I nearly fell in trying to retrieve it, but in the end I got my soggy map) and there was a big chunk of the walk which was through a paddock and really badly marked. Then I tried to take a shortcut back to the hotel because it was getting late and I had to scramble through the bush getting stung by nettles and falling off rocks and logs (and can I just quietly say, THOSE NETTLE STINGER THINGS HURT.) I came out onto the main road, and I am sure I must have looked like Jane from Tarzan with dirt on my face and twigs in my hair... but I made it. And achieved my objective... to map out a new trail where no (wo)man has gone before. Sometimes I feel like I'm in Lord of the Rings, other times I feel like I'm in Enid Blyton's The Faraway Tree (the trees even make that wisha wisha wisha sound... am I showing my age here?), sometimes I feel like Maria Von Trapp, but mostly I just feel a bit bored.

Another plus to being stuck out here with nothing to do is that I have finally opened my Bible. After carting it around for six months and opening it probably only once (in Vietnam on a sleeper train when I thought we were going to contract a disease from the beds) I have decided to read it from front to back. I realise I have never done this before in my life - all the stories seemed so familiar to me since being drummed into us in Sunday School and high school,etc. But to read the Old Testament in order and with fresh eyes is fascinating. In fact, I have found a lot of things in the Old Testament which really concern me, and I can't believe I have never questioned some of it before. I could write a whole extra blog on what I have found reading it, but I won't bore you all. If anyone has any insight into this, feel free to email me, because I find the God that exists in the Old Testament seems contradictory to everything I am led to believe about him in the New Testament and beyond. How could the Israelites trust in a God who turned on them all the time and condoned stoning, burning and stabbing people to death for some seemingly minor offences? And some of the justifications for making war with their neighbours seem similar to the excuses you hear come out of the mouths of fundamentalist religious people who think it is holy to blow themselves up. But anyway, it is certainly interesting reading. I found once I started, it became like one of those novels you can't put down, except that it's actually real history and really small writing and heaps and heaps of pages. Heaps and HEAPS of pages...

So anyway, this is what I dedicate my days to, I'm also getting better at speaking Dutch and German, although I always get the two confused. Oh, and Australia finally made the news here with our new Kath & Kim-like Prime Minister. I watched Rudd's speech on YouTube and it nearly made me cry... poor Rudd! And I watched Gillard's speech and it made me laugh because of her accent and the chicken head bobbing. But I think she might be ok, only time will tell. Although if she holds an election while I'm overseas it's kind of annoying because I have no idea how to vote... ah well.

Do do do do...
Megan

Look at the way these weeds and prickles taunt me... surely there is no way through this wilderness...

 

But nothing is impossible for Megan, Weed Warrior! Fear me, oh weeds and stingers (did I mention earlier that those things hurt!). Armed with my Scythe of Carinthia (I left my machete at home, unfortunately...) I will slaughter you mercilessly! Feel my wrath.

Check out the path I made. Suck on that stingers. Goodness wins again! Who needs a lawn mower? (or a real scythe, or a machete...)

By the way, before the comments flow in, yes I have been reading too much Old Testament, yes, I did enjoy that just a little too much and yes, I do have too much time on my hands :)

Stay tuned for more adventures of Megan, Weed Warrior.

"Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail"

Ralph Waldo Emerson