A Dream Come True Times Two

“The best way to find yourself is to lose yourself in the service of others.” ~ Mahatma Gandhi


As you can see by the shameless neglect of this blog, life has become incredibly busy since I came back from my Peruvian adventure. I have a few pending blog updates from my last two months in Peru as well as a Dominican getaway that I promise I will finally post in the very near future. But before that, I have a very exciting announcement to make....

Ladies and gentlemen, I am returning to Peru! This time, I will be going to the Andes to install solar panels in a remote village with very limited access to energy. Living in the western world, we hardly stop to think just how essential energy is to our daily lives and how fortunate we are to have such easy access to it. We simply flip a switch to turn on a light so we can read, or heat an oven to cook dinner for our families. Energy, this invisible, empowering entity, provides us with the ability to heat and light our homes and powers our infrastructure. So what about those with limited access to energy? According to the World Energy Outlook, the developing world uses 16,000 kWh/year in contrast to the developing world’s 200 kWh/year, with some areas only having access to 0.14 kilowatt hours (kWh) of energy per day. The following information excerpted from energy4everyone’s website (http://www.energy4everyone.com/) helps to put this into perspective:

Running a fan for 1 hour = .01 kWh
Cooking dinner in the oven = 1 kWh
1 minute hot shower = .15 kWh
1 load of laundry (cold water) = .03 kWh
Toasting 2 slices of bread = .06 kWh

Reduced access to energy due to infrastructure constraints and prohibitive costs has sobering consequences on the infant mortality, literacy and life expectancy. The impact on the infant mortality rate is staggering – 100 deaths for every 1000 live births versus 5 deaths in the developed world. The statistics continue in favor of access to energy with a 50% adult literacy rate in the developing world versus 99% in the developed world and a life expectancy of 55 years for those with limited access to energy versus 80 in the energy rich regions.

So what’s a girl to do about it? For years now, I have had my eyes on an organization that goes into developing countries to help find and implement sustainable energy solutions. According to their site, they fight energy poverty in Africa and Latin America by fueling access to energy that's clean, affordable, reliable and sustainable." They have focused on bringing energy to areas with the lowest life expectancy and mortality rates, helping 52,000 people in 5 countries on 3 continents since it was founded in 1999.

My dream came true when I received an email confirming that I had been selected to be one of the nine people chosen to head to the Andes to work on this project. To say I feel blessed is an understatement. I have been gifted with the rare opportunity to give back to the country that gave me such a beautiful and life-changing, experience. I can hardly wait. <3

Peru- The Next Chapter

One of the Floating Islands

After enjoying some much needed solo time in Lima, I prepared to meet my Mom for two weeks of travelling fun. She had decided to come down to Peru and visit me and we’d planned a jam packed itinerary including Lake Titicaca, Cuzco, the Amazon Jungle and Lima. I met her in the airport, looking like she was ready to take on the world with a backpack and a big smile. Our first stop was Puno to tour Lake Titicaca, the highest navigable lake in the world.

Upon arrival, the evil altitude monster immediately began to rear its ugly head, daring us to brave the 4000m altitude. Despite feeling less than fantastic, we hopped aboard the slowest boat known to mankind to the first destination on our agenda, the floating islands of Uros. The Uros people made their homes on these islands hundreds of years ago to avoid confrontations with the powerful Inca Empire. Approximately 3-10 families inhabit each island, living the same way they did hundreds of years ago. The islands are constructed out of tortora reeds which need to be replenished every 3 months. Not only do they make their homes and boats from the same type of reed, but they also eat the roots for iodine. We had the opportunity to taste some of the roots and learn about the way of life of the Uros people. It was interesting, albeit slightly alarming, to be walking upon a man made island constructed of essentially straw, but it was quite interesting to see how the Uros people lived with so little. All of their food and supplies have to be brought across the lake from Puno, as nothing can grow on the islands. 

Mama Olga and Sister Lourdes preparing dinner

After taking a ride on one of their traditional boats, we headed off to the next island on our agenda, Amantani, where we’d be spending the night with a local family. Our new “mamas” or sister in our case, were waiting for us on the bank to take us to our homes for the night. Huffing and puffing and nearly collapsing from the altitude inflicted torture, we attempted to follow our sister, Lourdes, up the never ending hill to our home for the night. I wasn’t sure who was going to have to carry who up the hill between my Mom and I, but thankfully we made it up in one piece. Our room was simple yet pleasant with three beds. The house was small with mud floors on the main floor, a kitchen, a couple of bedrooms and a washroom for the tourists out front (with a toilet that you had to manually flush with a jug of water!). Opting not to hike to the top of the island to visit a temple with the rest of the group, (heck, we barely made it to the house!), my Mom and I decided to take a leisurely walk around the island, trying to wrap our heads around the degree of poverty we were witnessing. The island was quiet, clean and serene with striking views of the lake. The air was crisp, pure and infinitely fresh with no car emissions, radiation or smog. It was pure and unspoiled, just how nature intended. 

I think we should bring this style to the T.Dot.
What do you think?

At dinner that evening, we met the entire family: Mama Olga, Papa Ignacio, eldest sister Lourdes (19), younger sister Celia (16), and little brother Wilbur (15). It's customary to bring small gifts of food for the families to thank them for your visit, so we brought ours a bag of rice and sugar. Thinking that there may be small children, we also brought a pencil case filled with gel pens and a colouring kit. Despite being teenagers, all three of them thanked us profusely for the gifts and looked genuinely excited by them. Lourdes and Celia were enchanted by the gel pens and Wilbur loved the colouring kit. A 16 year old North American boy would have laughed in your face if you brought him a colouring book, but not this boy. He was infinitely grateful for it as his mother looked on with her beautiful, contented smile. She just sat by the fire on a stool and cooked on the mud stove, chatting with her family and smiling. I felt so blessed to be sitting there observing their family. It was almost surreal, as if I was watching it on TV. The family spoke mainly Quechua, an ancient Inca language, but Lourdes and Wilbur spoke Spanish and a bit of English so we were able to communicate with them. They excitedly answered all of our questions about their way of life and just as eagerly asked us about our lives. 

That night, they dressed us up in traditional wear and held a party for us. We had an awesome time learning their traditional dances and socializing with everyone. The next morning, we had a quick breakfast, took some photos with the family, and then we were off to the island of Taquile for more crazy trekking.

Left to right: Wilbur, Lourdes, Ignacio, Olga & Celia

I will never forget our family on Amantani Island. They were incredibly hospitable, amazingly sweet and so darn content with so little. They are truly an inspiration to all of us materialistic Westerners. You don't have to be rich to be happy- case in point!

To Talara With Love



Last night out in Talara!



 The inevitable has arrived. I had to say goodbye to my Talaranian life today, including all of the friends that I've grown to love over the past four months. I knew this day was coming, but it didn't make it any easier. As I waved goodbye to the small, dusty town I've come to love, I knew my life would never be the same again. I arrived here scared and unsure, wondering if I'd last a full six months in Peru. My first week in, I was stuck in bed with parasites, desperately wanting to go home. I suppose you can say that it was a blessing in disguise because once I got through that, I felt as if I could get through anything. I experienced power outages and water shortages, flooding and extreme heat; I had a dream job with amazing bosses and the sweetest group of students ever; I made lifelong friends and we partied like it was going out of style, drinking enough Cusquena and cheap rum to last a lifetime. I also got hundreds of mosquito bites and experienced things that pushed me miles outside of my comfort zone. 



Natha & Jeka = Best Roomies EVAA!



But above all... I grew up. I've learned so much about myself in the past few months and I've reached a point of true contentment and gratefulness. Gratitude has become a natural part of my life and has helped me reach a point where I am really and truly content. Sure, I don't have a big house or lots of money, (nor do I even have a job when I return home from my journey!), but I am definitely happy. I have learned (but not perfected!) the art of patience and giving thanks for everything, good or bad and that has made all the difference in my life. All in all, I am incredibly happy that I chose to come to Peru, and more specifically, Talara. There's no doubt in my mind that it was meant to be.



We were trying to get a normal picture of us, but
Brandon wouldn't have it!



To my Beautiful Talaranian Family: Thank you for your hospitality, for your love and for letting me into your life. Words cannot express how much I will miss you. I can only hope that our paths will cross again someday soon. You will forever be in my heart. I have one last word for you all... GECKO!!!!!!!!!

Natha, my sister and best friend... Even though we met four short months ago, I can't imagine life without you! Thank you so much for always making sure I was ok. You have one of the sweetest, purest hearts and I feel blessed to have met you. This isn't goodbye because I'll see you SOON, you purple potato peruana! Love you!  PS) Watch out for the BATMOTH!!!

Brandon & Lilly... Honestly, world's coolest bosses! Thank you for being so easy going, understanding and supportive. I couldn't have asked for better people to work for. I can't wait to continue our delicious lunches in Toronto. I'll cook next time (assuming I don't burn the kitchen down first!) S.Smurf!

Goodbye Talara! Thank You For All Of The Beautiful Memories! ~ Jeka

 

Don't Cry Because it's Over, Smile Because it Happened

Some of my youngest students
(Other class pics to follow)

Today was my last day of teaching at L&B Language School. I cannot believe how quickly time has flown by. I feel like just yesterday I was struggling to learn everyone's name. Now, they've become the best part of my day. My heart broke a little each time I watched one of my students walk out of my classroom door today, knowing that I'll never see them again. Never hear them call me "meeeess" or whine "nooo teeeach-er" when I assign them homework. I'll miss the respectful way that even the adults would ask before entering or leaving the classroom and would greet me warmly each and every day that I saw them. I'll miss my "tween" class and their adorable antics; my sweet little children and their slobbery kisses on the cheek as they recite a line from one of our poems (bye, goodbye see you soon!) on their way out the door everyday. I'll miss my crazy Petro Peru class with all of their love confessions; My basic class with all of it's charm. My 6:15 and the way they'd have me repeat words over and over again because they wanted to perfect their pronunciation. Their passion for learning was so inspiring.

My Petro Peru Class - Always full of laughter!

One of the students in that class began to cry when she left today, embracing me and kissing my cheek repeatedly. She looked me square in the eye and said, "You're my daughter". Incredible. Just incredible the way lives connect and intertwine in ways that cannot be expressed in words.

Yesterday they threw parties for me, complete with cake, ice cream, empanadas, snacks and gifts. They told me how thankful they are to have had me here, but the truth is, I'm incredibly fortunate to have been here and to have had the opportunity to be a part of all of these amazing people's lives, if only for a moment.

My sweet 6:15 class at the party they threw for me

To My Students: Over the past 4 months, I have been privileged to get to know all of you. You’ve inspired me, brightened my days, and made my job truly enjoyable. I want to thank each and every one of you for giving me the opportunity to work with you and for welcoming me to your beautiful country. I wish you the best of luck with your English studies and in all of your future endeavors. Keep in touch and God bless. ♥

The Ride of Death

Never. Again.

"Let's go on the Tagada."

An innocent sentence mumbled by my friend at the local fair in Talara. It looked harmless enough. Although I didn't see it in motion, it looked like a simple ride that spun in a circle. Being the adventurous chica that I am, I thought nothing of it. I've been on much crazier rides in theme parks across North America. As we boarded, I noticed that there weren't any sealtbelts, handles or restraints. Odd, but oh well. "Hold on tight!" my friends told me. I thought they were being a little overly cautious for such an easy ride, but I went with it. Then the Tagada began to spin. Cool. Then it began to bounce. Alright. Then, the bloody thing tried to kill me! Or more specifically, the moronic ride operators who control each movement tried to kill me! It whirled, twirled, jerked, tilted and bumped, conspiring to break my bones with each bump. "Make it STOP!" I begged, feeling my body bruise and swell with each bump. "Let me OFFFFF!" I screamed as my poor body repeatedly slammed into the metal seat. Sure Jessica, scream in English at the Latino ride operators. Smart. That's really going to do something. Well, actually it did. It alerted them to my gringa status, making me their new favourite target. Having already sent my dear Nathaly and my flip flops sliding down the ride they made it their mission to send me flying.  Well I'll show them, I thought. Despite feeling like my arms were going to be yanked out of their sockets, I hung on for dear life. Finally, when they saw that I wasn't letting go anytime soon and that I desperately wanted to get off the ride, they stopped it. Battered and bruised, I vowed never to step foot on that death machine again. Click here to get an idea of the craziness that is the Tagada!

I've Fallen in Love... With Surfing




Intricate adobe bricks in Chan Chan

This past week was test week for my students which meant a four day work week for me. I took the opportunity to meet my Dad in Trujillo, a city roughly 9 hours from Talara by bus. Being my first solo bus ride, I was a little weary taking an overnight bus. I've heard rumours of robbers piling rocks in the middle of the road, forcing the driver to stop. The robbers then board the bus and rob and sometimes attack the passengers. With this delightful story playing on repeat in the back of my mind, I had a hard time falling asleep. Imagine my fear when at roughly 3am, while all of the other passengers were blissfully asleep, the bus pulled over in the middle of the desert and stopped. My imagination ran wild on me and I started planning out a pepper spray attack strategy. Thankfully, it appeared to be nothing more than a pee break for our driver, but I still didn't manage to get too much shut eye before we rolled into the Trujillo bus terminal in the wee hours of the morning. The hostel that my Dad and I had planned to meet at was closed (I had no idea that hostels close!!) so I asked the taxi driver to take me to the plaza de armas (the main square) where I waited and walked around for a few hours until my Dad arrived. It was interesting to watch the city wake up, something I'm usually not awake early enough to see!



Our newfound loves. Nice shoes, Dad!



It was wonderful to see my Dad again. He had so many exciting stories to share about his time in the jungle. We spent a lot of time discussing how quickly time had flown by and our mixed feelings about returning to "the real world", as this weekend marked the halfway point of my trip and the second last week of his. After an evening of meandering through the streets of Trujillo, we decided to visit the Moche/Chimu civilization of Chan Chan the next day. It's the largest mud city in the world and was actually quite impressive. Following a morning of "ruin hopping", we decided to travel to a neighbouring beach town called Huanchaco. This tiny surfing town is home to the famous caballitos de totora, or traditional reed fishing boats that have been used for over a thousand years. Huanchaco was clean, modern and charming and I found myself wishing we had more time to spend there. 



Gorgeous sunset in Huanchaco
framed by the reed fishing boats

My Dad and I had been tossing around the idea of trying surfing from the time he first arrived in Lima. Seeing as we were in a surf town with an abundance of surf schools, we decided to seize the opportunity and give it a whirl. I doubted I'd be able to stand on the board and pictured gag-reel worthy wipe outs on my part, but I was pleasantly surprised to see that I could indeed stand and even ride the waves with a little help from the teacher. We spent most of the day out on the water, freezing despite our wetsuits, but unwilling to abandon our newfound love. Eventually when we could no longer feel our body, we enjoyed a delicious ceviche (the national dish of Peru) and chaufa (Peruvian-Chinese food) dinner with local Trujillo beer. And, as if an amazing day of surfing and delicious food wasn't enough, we stumbled across an organic chocolate cafe! Truly a match made in heaven! After a glorious weekend, we hopped aboard a bus bound for Talara. The clock has begun to tick. I only have one more month with my wonderful students and amazing Peruvian family. Where is time going?! 







It's Raining, It's Pouring



Teaching by candlelight



There's been a lot of rain in Talara lately, which is kind of interesting considering we're in the desert! Some days, there's so much water that the streets look like rivers. The ceiling in our apartment is in pretty rough shape, so our place starts to flood pretty quickly. We have to continually sweep water out the front door and place buckets all over the apartment. One night, we were forced to shut off the power for safety reasons. Nathaly, one of my roommates, pulled her mattress into my room and we sang and told stories by candlelight all night. On another rainy night we decided that we HAD to have pizza and since they weren't delivering due to the flooded streets, we trudged through the streets to get it ourselves. Then we hung out in our living room having deep discussions and telling scary stories by candlelight.



Using whatever we could to
catch the water



These floods and black outs are teaching me to be patient. Some things are just totally out of my control. During power outages, we have no internet and thus no connection to the rest of the world. The fans obviously don't work, so we sit here and melt. I can either be annoyed by these things, which won't change anything anyway, or I can just go with the flow. Patience has never been my strong point, but through these experiences, I'm learning how to roll with the punches. Thank you for the life lessons, Peru.

Happy 2 Month Anniversary to Me!



Partying with my Peruvian Familia



Today makes it 2 months since I arrived in Peru. Everyday life in Talara is starting to feel normal now: navigating the town, taking mototaxis, hearing Spanish all over. Things are feeling less and less foreign and my life in Toronto is feeling more and more distant. Although it's only been two months, it feels like it's been years since I lived in my apartment in Toronto. I'm having such a hard time picturing coming back to Canada. Not that I don't want to, because I definitely do, but because I feel lightyears away from my Toronto life. Being reunited with my boyfriend and my friends and family feels like a distant dream. It's so hard to be away from them all, but I don't regret embarking on this journey.

I thought Peru may have given me another parasite as an anniversary gift, but it turns out it's just food poisoning. Yay! You know you've been through some crazy times when you start celebrating when it's "only" food poisoning! Although I'm counting down the days until I can see my loved ones again, I'm enjoying every moment of my Peruvian life.

What Happens in Mancora, Stays in Mancora!

Getting ready for a night out on the beach!

After Cuzco and a quick stop off in Lima, it was back to work in Talara. My Dad hung out with us for a little while longer before heading off on his jungle adventure. The rest of us headed to Mancora for the weekend, a small beach town about an hour and forty five minutes from Talara. And wow, can Mancora ever party! The clubs are lined up side by side on the beach and they all blast music in their open air dance floors. We met lots of people from all over the world, took pre-dawn dips in the ocean and partied like it was 1999. Mancora, I will be back for you!

Would You Like Fries With Your Guinea Pig?

Before...

I couldn't go to Cuzco and NOT try cuy, a traditional Andean dish, or, what we'd call GUINEA PIG! I had already tried alpaca steaks (it broke my heart a little to eat that- have you seen how freaking cute they are?!) but I couldn't leave without trying cuy too. When in Rome, right?! My Dad and I worked up our courage and ordered it from a decent restaurant in the plaza de armas. We were a little shocked and slightly disturbed when it was served to us in full form, with the teeth still firmly attached!





After


I have an aversion to eating meat as it is, but when it looks like what it is, it's even freakier! Once we took our pictures, the server returned to slice it up for us. It tasted kind of like chicken but there was barely any meat on it. It was probably equivalent to two tiny chicken wings. We were still starved afterwards and had to eat another dinner. Nonetheless, I can say I went to the Andes and tried cuy! But don't worry, your guinea pigs are safe around me. I think I'm done eating rodents for a little while!

Dreams Do Come True




The moment we had been waiting for!

Maybe the Sun Gate would have been more aptly named the “Cloud Gate” or the “Fog Gate” or the “Where the heck is Machu Picchu Gate” because we couldn’t see a thing! Although it wasn’t the beautiful first view we had been hoping for, the overwhelming feeling of success from having completed the trek washed away any disappointment we may have felt. Our first actual view of Machu Picchu was literally breathtaking. The Incas were truly extraordinary architects and I feel blessed to have seen this wonder of the world firsthand, especially during the centenary of its discovery. Despite being exhausted, my Dad and I summoned up whatever energy we had left to climb Wayna Picchu, which is the big mountain you see behind Machu Picchu. Although the climb was a bit dangerous, the views at the top of the mountain were definitely worth it. We hung off the edge to take pictures and I was terrified of falling off of the mountain. Being truly frightened is a new feeling for me as I am rarely genuinely terrified, so in some strange way, I found myself relishing in it.

As I walked that final leg of the Inca Trail from the campsite to Machu Picchu, the true Inca pilgrimage, I had an epiphany. I finally realized the point of it all. The reason for the discomfort, the back breaking challenges and the conditions that pushed me miles out of my comfort zone. I was on my own pilgrimage. It was as if this journey had opened up a whole new version of myself. As if I had been reborn into the same life but with a whole new perspective. I will never again take our North American comforts for granted: heat, clean water, lack of bugs, hot water, being able to understand and be understood, clean toilets, quality and hygiene standards, and lack of fleas and squat toilets to name a few. I’m learning to fully appreciate what I have (food for example, unlike the Andean children) and I know exactly what I want to do when I get back home to Canada. I realized I can survive without basic comforts (but I much prefer to have them!) and that I have a reservoir of strength and willpower that I never knew existed. The insight I’m gathering through my Peruvian journey is preparing me for the next phase of my life.



Living life on the edge!

 It’s an amazing feeling to be able to check something off your bucket list. I have been dreaming of hiking the Inca Trail for years, and I finally did it. The whole experience was incredibly challenging but it’s truly helped me to grow as a person. It makes me wonder though- can you grow within your comfort zone or do you have to push your limits and leave your comfort zone before growth is possible?

The Inca Trail amazed me and angered me; it frustrated and enlightened me. But I will never be the same again because of it.

The Eyebrow of the Jungle: Day Three of the Inca Trail



Winawayna (Forever Young)
Gorgeous Inca terraces on route to Machu Picchu



The third day was a welcome reprieve after the challenges of the previous day. It was tranquil and fascinating as we trekked for 5 hours through the “eyebrow of the jungle”. The bugs were huge and the flowers were gorgeous. With most of the trek now behind us, we felt quite jovial and accomplished. Not even hearing a low growl in the jungle while our guide was nowhere to be found could shatter our great moods. Having completed the hardest part of the journey, we were eagerly anticipating our first glimpse of Machu Picchu.

I’m amazed by all of the hard work our porters do for us. They carry all of the camping equipment as well as everyone’s backpacks and run ahead to set up camp and cook our meals. I have no idea how they do it everyday, often finishing a 4 day trek and then running back to begin again with another group of trekkers. In comparison to their job, I don’t think anyone has a right to complain. They’re such tiny men who carry insanely heavy loads while wearing the least appropriate footwear, yet they consistently have smiles on their faces and extra energy to cheer us on. Every time we reach a campsite, they all break out in applause. It’s the sweetest thing!

On the third night, we camped at the edge of the jungle- literally! Our tent was set up at the edge of a cliff that drops straight off into the jungle. As in, if we stepped directly outside our tent instead of to the left or right, we’d tumble down thousands of feet into the Amazon!! I must say, the Inca Trail has afforded me some incredible camping opportunities that I may never experience again- the first night we woke up to the sight of gorgeous snow capped mountains; the second night we had a view of an Inca ruin and on the third night we got a taste of the jungle!



Our superstar porters and their
massive baggage



I was a little afraid that the jungle bugs would somehow find their way into our tent, but what I didn’t realize was that the most annoying bugs possible were already living inside of my rented sleeping bag: fleas! I spent almost the entire night itching and moving around my bag, unsure if I had the heebie jeebies or if there were indeed bugs in there. After barely sleeping, we were awakened at the ungodly hour of 3:30am in pitch darkness and rushed through breakfast. There was a frantic energy in the air as we quickly got ready and packed our bags. There were numerous campsites in the area, all chalk filled with groggy trekkers eager to see what they had spent the last 72 hours trekking towards. First, we had to beat the herds to the gate to secure a space under the canopy to shelter us from the rain until we could start hiking towards Machu Picchu at 5:30am. As it crept closer to 5:30, you could feel a surge of energy pass through the crowd of sleepy trekkers. As soon as the gate opened, it was like someone had shot off a starting gun and the race to Machu Picchu was on! Our guide ran up ahead (of course!) and I struggled to keep up with my heavy backpack. The path was narrower than it had been throughout the entire trek with dizzying drops. The weight of my pack could have easily thrown me over if I shifted too suddenly. My Dad came to my rescue and carried both of our backpacks as he had done on the first day. Not that I didn't know it before, but I realized I have the world’s best father who would help me even when he needs help himself. After what felt like the Amazing Race, we reached an insane set of stairs that you literally had to crawl up on your hands and knees. It really made me wonder what kind of super humans these Incas really were! At last, after a gruelling climb, we reached the most anticipated point of the trek: the Sun Gate.

What Goes Up Must Come Down: Day Two of the Inca Trail

Feeling victorious at having reached
Dead Woman's Pass- alive!

The first day of 2012 brought us the hardest physical challenge I have ever experienced. Following breakfast, the two couples that were with us turned around and headed back home. With both girls being sick, they didn’t want to take a risk going further into the trail where rescue helicopters would most likely be unable to enter. Our group instantly shrunk from six to two, becoming a private tour without the additional cost!

Had I known what was in store for me on day two, I may very well have headed back home with them! The entire day consisted of strenuous uphill and downhill trekking and was one of the most challenging things I’ve ever faced- mentally, physically and emotionally. The uphill trek was extremely difficult but I was in pretty good spirits. I felt a great sense of accomplishment when I reached our first milestone for the day- Dead Woman’s Pass, at a staggering 4200 m above sea level. It was amazing to have made it there, this massive peak that looked light years away when we started our trek that morning. What came next, though, was hell on earth.

What goes up must come down. Unfortunately for us, that meant hiking down steep, slippery rocks in a torrential downpour. I slipped a few times but thankfully always caught myself before plummeting to my death. The Go Girl, (ladies, check it out!), had been my faithful companion until now when it decided to malfunction, of course during the hardest part of my trek. By malfunction I mean dump cups of pee all over my dry pants. As people tried to invade my pee spot behind a bush. As the rain poured. As my Dad tried to hurry me up. As I sunk into the mud. This right here, ladies and gentlemen, was my breaking point. As I slipped around in the mud and tried to hide behind the bush, I took my disgustingly soaked pants off and left my windbreaker pants on. Ew. Cold, wet windbreaker on bare legs. Terrible feeling but it beat wet, cold, pee-afied pants any day. As tears filled my eyes, I cursed myself for choosing to do this. I paid money for this torture?! What kind of fool am I?! All I wanted to do was get the heck off the trail, but I obviously couldn’t. I was stuck there for better or worse. Deep in the Andes where a helicopter could take two days to reach you, if at all. Apparently a man had a heart attack on the trail and his dead body had to be carried out! Blegh!

Gradually, the sky began to darken and my Dad and I realized we really had to pick up the pace or risk having to navigate the trail in pitch darkness. The already creepy feeling of being alone in the Andes at night was amplified tenfold when we spotted an animal track that appeared to be from something large, heavy and potentially a member of the feline family. Where was our damn guide?! He was supposed to be the one to save us from giant trekker eating animals, but throughout the trail he had consistently left us to our own devices.

After hiking roughly 16 kms in 9 hours, we reached our campsite for the night. I can’t even describe to you how happy I was to finally get there. It was probably one of the happiest moments of my life, and I’m only partially exaggerating. It took everything I had in me to make it there. The highlight of my night was definitely using the squat toilets in the pitch darkness. There I was, trying to navigate the disgusting “stall” while holding a flashlight and trying to ration toilet paper while wrangling it out of my travel holster. Oh, and did I mention the door didn’t lock? And that it was the most horrendous smelling thing ever? Yeah, well no one can call me a princess anymore!!

Overall the second day was incredibly challenging. I was catapulted miles out of my comfort zone and I definitely pushed myself harder than I ever have in my life. Though I’m sure it’ll be one hell of a growing experience for me, I’m so glad that it’s over.

Day One of the Inca Trail





About to Embark on a Dream Journey!

 As we sat in our orientation session the night before our big trek, I heard something that jarred my very soul. "Meet at 4:30am in the square". Ummm.. pardon?! Does that time even exist?! But sure enough, our group of 6 trekkers was instructed to meet at the ungodly hour of 4:30 am to begin our trek. After an exhausting day touring the Sacred Valley, my Dad and I hurried home to get packed and catch some shut eye before our early morning meeting time. We had every intention of getting into bed early... except we didn't. After maybe an hour of sleep, we dragged our tired butts to the square to meet our equally sleepy trek mates. All six of us piled into a van filled with less than pleasant smelling porters. Eager to catch up on some sleep on our two hour bus ride to Ollantaytambo where we'd stop for breakfast, we pulled down our hats and snuggled in for the ride. All hopes of a nap were dashed when the porters decided to engage in an outrageously loud and animated conversation and play reggaeton at a volume that could only be considered illegal for that time of the morning. After stopping off in Ollantaytambo for a quick breakfast, the bus dropped us off to km 82, the start of the Inca Trail, or Camino Inka en Espanol.



Our sleepiness soon turned to pure excitement as the fact that we were finally on the Inca Trail registered in our still foggy brains. As the day progressed, however, those smiles soon turned to brows furrowed in determination and the occasional barely audible swear word. My Dad and I had decided not to spend the extra $120 per person to have our bags carried. Biggest mistake EVER! Carrying my 40-50lb bag uphill and downhill for hours was the most treacherous thing I've ever done, my pack weighing me down and bruising my hip bones with each step I took. The halfway resting point where we'd stop for lunch and a quick siesta was like a carrot dangling in front of us. "It's only two hours away", the guide encouraged us. Well let me tell you, it was the longest two hours of life. That campsite MUST HAVE kept moving further and further away with each step we took. That’s the only logical explanation. On route, two of our fellow trekkers came running back to us, clearly alarmed. Turns out, there was a stray bull on the road and they were terrified to walk past it. It was especially funny because one of them was wearing red! Erring on the side of caution, we climbed up the bank and waited for it to pass. Along the way, we also encountered a snake (dead, thank God!) and what appeared to be semi-domesticated horses with no owners. We yielded to the wild animals in an attempt to avoid becoming road kill before even seeing Machu Picchu.



As I walked, all I could focus on was making it to lunch. One foot in front of the other. I couldn't even take in the breathtaking scenery for fear of plowing through the mini mountains of llama/donkey/horse poo that lined the trail. Finally, when I literally couldn't take another step, we arrived at the campsite to a chorus of cheers and high fives from our porters. They had gone up ahead to cook lunch and set everything up. Although I could barely stay awake and my feet felt like they'd be stabbed 1000 times with rusted razors, I quite enjoyed the lunch. It was amazing what they could put together with a camp stove and supplies that they brought on their backs. We had an avocado appetizer, soup, fish and vegetables. Everything was well prepared and beautifully presented. After lunch, we had precious little time for a siesta. Not caring about anything but the pain and exhaustion, I lay down on a tarp on the ground and feel into a deep slumber. What felt like moments later, it was time to go again. I managed to hire a porter on the spot who would take my bag for the rest of the trek. Thank God! I wouldn't have been able to make it with that bag. It felt like I was carrying an elephant on my back. Dad, on the other hand, kept his bag despite an injured knee. I don't know how he did it!



The toilets on the trail made the public toilets in Peru seem like a dream, and trust me, that takes A LOT! These toilets were basically just toilet bowls embedded into the ground. I had no idea what to do when I walked into one for the first time. Let's just say it's not a part of the Inca Trail that I will look back on fondly!

As we continued on the trek, our guide repeatedly told us that today was the easy day and the next day would be the hardest one of the trek. Today was easy?! For who?? The Incas maybe! The next day we'd be headed up the steepest ascent: 4200m above sea level to Warmiwanusca, also known as Dead Woman's Pass. Now there's a comforting name!

 When we finally arrived at our campsite after about 6 hours of trekking, it felt like I had reached heaven itself. After our "happy hour" consisting of hot tea and snacks, we debated staying awake to bring in the New Year, but couldn't fathom the thought of keeping our eyes open any longer. As I cuddled into my sleeping bag, I wondered what the heck had possessed me to walk this trail instead of taking the comfortable train. I tried to psych myself up for the next day, telling myself that I had been dreaming of this moment for years. Then it truly dawned on me just where I was- in a tent in the Andes, traveling along the trail that Incas had travelled so many years before. This was my dream, and here I was actually doing it! By 8pm on News Year Eve 2011, after approximately 16 kms of trekking, we were all fast asleep, snug in our tents, 3800m above sea level.

I Live, I Work, I Love



Photo taken by a friend on our tour, Silvia. Andean woman walking
through the cobblestone streetsof Ollantaytambo, a gorgeous Inca town



I think the thing I love the most about Peru is the abundance of history that can be found in every corner. It's like, oh yeah, the hostel you're staying in was an old Inca site and this mural that we found in one of the rooms is hundreds of years old. It's amazing really, and something we're not at all accustomed to in our young country.



Picture taken in the Sacred Valley
by Silvia. Thanks, Silvia!
Doesn't this llama look terrifying?!



We've finally fully acclimatized to the altitude after several days and numerous mugs of coca tea, but I'm beginning to feel like we're running out of time for the Inca Trail. It's quickly approaching and I'm starting to feel a little apprehensive. Not just due to the physical challenge that lies ahead, but also, the thought of going off the grid for four days, the longest in my cellular-ly obsessed youth, is a bit daunting. Can I do it? Can I go without Facebook, email, websurfing and talking to my boyfriend for four whole days?! Well... I won't have a choice, now will I! 



Fortunately for me, I've had little time to allow my apprehension to fester. Dad and I went on a tour of the Sacred Valley today. We drove through amazing little villages nestled in the Andes, stopping off in Pisac, Urubamba, Ollantaytambo and Chinchero, where we market hopped, visited several ruins and took in some breathtaking scenery. This tour, however, reinforced just how disgusted I am with the colonization of the Inca people. There was one site, I believe it was in Chinchero, where the Spaniards tore down an Inca palace and built a church. They also broke down other structures to build their own. Although I didn't have the opportunity to see it, there is also a church in Cuzco that's covered in mirrors. These mirrors were used to attract and subsequently convert curious Quechua people. How disgusting! Seeing this type of disrespect in the name of Jesus really makes me wonder...



The Chakana





On the tour, they explained the significance of the Inca cross, known as the Chakana, which we saw examples of in the ruins of Ollantaytambo, Q'enqo and Sacsayhuaman. It's actually pretty amazing. To give you a quick synopsis, the centre of the Chakana represents Pachamama, which is Mother Earth, a goddess worshipped by the people of the Andes. It can also represent Cuzco, considered to be the centre of the Inca empire. The cross has twelve points, each which represent the following notions and affirmations:

Worlds: The Underworld, the Current World, the Upper World

Spirit Animals: The Snake, the Puma, the Condor

A real life example of a Chakana on the wall of the
Ollantaytambo Ruins

Affirmations: I Live, I Work, I Love

Commandments: Don't Lie, Don't Steal, Don't be Lazy

One half of the cross is representative of males, the other of females. The four main points represented the cardinal points and the four elements, water, air, fire and earth. I absolutely love the significance behind this cross! You know me... I've already purchased a beautifully crafted Chakana made out of shells for my travel charm bracelet and I will be getting a pendant as well. History and shopping... two passions that go oh-so well together!

"If You Can't Feed a Hundred People, Then Just Feed One" - Mother Teresa



Precious children eagerly waiting to be served

If you're ever in Cuzco, please find your way to this one particular Indian restaurant called Maikhana. For 15 soles, you can feast on a lovely buffet that includes both meat and vegetarian options. Not only is the food great at this family run restaurant, but it goes beyond just feeding your belly. This family, consisting of a mother, father and two adorable young children, singlehandedly feed hundreds of children in small villages in the Andes each week. Using nearly half of their profits, these selfless souls cook delicious, wholesome food and ladle it out to hungry children whose diet typically consists of one boiled potato per day. Our hostel, Loki, is in the midst of creating a partnership with Maikhana where they'd organize charity tours for hostel guests to volunteer their time to help feed the children. Somehow we managed to convince the amazing staff of Loki to take us along on a trip to work out the details of the tour. There were about thirteen of us who drove to a small village in the Andes called Ccatcca. As we got into the town, we picked up police escorts who crammed into the van with us. 



Simultaneously heartbreaking and beautiful



Nothing could prepare me for what I was about to experience. As our van pulled into the lot, groups of children began running after it, smiling happily as if they'd been waiting all day for our arrival. My stomach dropped as I realized they were all clutching their own little bowls, or for some, just clear plastic bags. The police had the children line up in two orderly lines according to gender. Watching these precious babies walk up in small groups, hold out their bowl or bag for food, and walk away with a huge smile was more than I could handle. It was humbling and overwhelming; beautiful, yet heartbreaking. My soul cried for these beautiful little children with their reddened, wind chapped cheeks. I silently prayed for these children's welfare and for the hands that so selflessly fed them, as I simultaneously cursed the utter unfairness of life. How could these innocent lives suffer so much while our babies at home get iPhones and laptops?! It's just so unbelievably unfair. My eyes kept welling up with tears, but I couldn't allow myself to cry in front of them. I had the opportunity to ladle out the food for them and my Lord was it incredible. To think, I helped to ensure that a few children got a least one decent meal. Everyone who was there had a chance to help feed the children, which was nice for us but had devastating consequences. The food wasn't properly rationed which meant a few children at the end of the line didn't get any. How horrific. Imagine being a hungry child waiting in line, watching all of these children before you get food, only to discover that nothing's left for you. Ugh. Heartbreaking beyond words. :(

For basically $250, a bus with volunteers can feed a couple hundred hungry children in various small towns. I know money is tight for everyone everywhere, but seeing these children first hand, I know they need it more than we do. Friends, family and blog readers, after seeing something like this firsthand, I would like to humbly ask if you can find it in your heart to donate some money to this ever so worthy cause. I promise you I will see to it that this money goes directly to the children and no where else. I know people are often reluctant to donate overseas because they don't know if the children receive it, but I can assure you, I saw firsthand that these children directly reap the benefits. Please, if you can skip a few lattes and bar nights and set aside a few dollars, it would mean a full stomach for one of these beautiful children. Here is your opportunity to truly make a difference in the life of a hungry child. If you're interested in donating, please email me at jessica.dowlatsingh@gmail.com and we can make it happen. Also, stay tuned once I get back to Toronto. I'm planning a fundraiser. These hungry babies will NOT be forgotten! 

Llamas, Snakes & Incas

Milk for the baby llama!

We spent "Boxing Day" exploring beautiful Cuzco and wandering outside of the tourist area. These two Andean ladies spotted me from across the street and practically flew to my side. "Picture with baby llama?" they asked, pointing to a tiny llama tucked away in a sling carried by one of the women. From my experience in Cozumel at the Mayan ruins and in Miami with killer parrots and giant snakes, I knew this picture would set us back a few soles (Peruvian dollars), but we didn't expect to be charged a whopping 10 soles for one picture. "Milk for the baby llama!!" they explained. Of course lol.

Overlooking one of the structures at Sacsaywaman

Later that week we decided to ditch the conventional tours and take a local (albeit slightly stinky) bus up to furthest Inca ruin from town, Tambomachay. This site, known as El Bano del Inca (The Bath of the Inca), featured a gorgeous ceremonial stone bath that channeled spring water through the fountains. This particular site has been connected to an Inca water cult. Here at Tambomachay, we met an American pilot named Eric who joined us for the rest of our 10 km walk back into Cuzco, passing three other ruins on the way. At Pukapukara, an area thought to be a either a guard post or a rest stop for travellers, we took some amazing photos at the edge of a cliff. The pictures don't do it justice- the drop was surreal. And there we were, dangling our feet off the edge like it was nothing! Sitting on the edge of the cliff overlooking postcard perfect scenery, a wave of appreciation washed over me. I felt overwhelmingly grateful for the opportunity that I've been given to experience life in another part of the world. Between parasites and altitude sickness, exhaustion and home sickness, I do realize just how blessed I am to be on this journey.

At Pukapukara, we came across a little cave that my Dad just HAD to explore. And of course, he wanted me to join him. There was a billboard at the front of the site explaining all of the animals that lived in and around Pukapukara, and snakes were among them. Praying that we weren't intruding in a snake's home, I hopped in for a quick pic. It was on our way OUT that my dad decided to point out the discarded snake skin, mere metres away from where I had just posed for a picture.

After Pukapukara, we explored another ruin called Q'enqo, a site used for ceremonial sacrifice and mummy preparation. Afterwards, we headed to probably the most spectacular ruin in Cuzco, Sacsaywaman, which is pronounced like "sexy woman". The ninth Inca, Pachacutec, envisioned the city of Cuzco to be in the shape of a big puma. Used for both military and religious reasons, Sacsaywaman represented the head of the puma. The sprawling ruins were gorgeous, immense and immaculately constructed. It was an incredible feeling to walk through their caves and across their battlegrounds so many centuries after their existence. You could tell that large rocks were missing from some of the structures. Indeed, the Spaniards had stolen rocks from the Inca to build their own homes in Cuzco. How rude!

As we explored the site, the sun began to sink deeper and deeper into the evening sky, reminding us that it was time to make the long trek down the mountain and back to the hostel. I started to feel a little creeped out as we trampled through the ruins, which had been the site of one of the bloodiest battles of the Spanish conquest in 1536. As the sky darkened, we made a pit stop at the Christo Blanco (White Christ statue that overlooks Cuzco) to snap a few quick shots, and then finally found our way to the dark road that wound down the mountain. With no lights besides the dim glow of our flashlights, we slowly made our way down the hill as the last of the taxis and buses drove past us. Luckily, the Inca spirits and wayward llamas decided to spare us and we arrived back at Loki unscathed, albeit out of breath and exhausted! After walking nearly 15km at around 3700m above sea level, I feel like I can sleep for a week. Goodnight!