The Calm Before The Storm

“It's quiet... a little too quiet”. The iconic opening to countless old Westerns or horror flicks that now appropriately applies to my life. As the dust settles on another year i stereotypically reflect on the times that were in self satisfaction and critique. Life has finally seemed to slow down a little and given me a chance to breathe. Every so often the fast paced nature of this year caught me out of breath and a tightening chest of overwhelming pressure and anxiety struck me down in the midst of a mad dash. Just like a fine athlete must continually train themselves and work towards that higher level, a participant in the hectic operations of life must fine tune their endurance and stamina at the fear of being worn out with half a race to go, or in this case half a year to go.

I would liken this year to that of a marathon runner who struggles with the mental battle of anxiously anticipating the longevity of the race, but once they begin, eventually finds their rhythm and finishes off in a healthy position. I don't want to get all modest and let you know my position in this particular race, but the kid comes home with a ribbon and a grin on his face. I can reveal that much.

It's been a good year! I say that with confidence now that i look back on it, but it hasn't always been easy. Initially i struggled with the feelings of being home. A year on the road not only changes the type of person you are, but it changes your perspective on the world and how you see yourself. As I've mentioned in previous blogs; your senses are enriched and overwhelmed with learning whilst travelling. You have seen, heard, tasted, smelt and felt things that are typically foreign to you back home in the comforts of your motherland. You have learnt so much from these new senses and you have found ways to adapt and apply them to your everyday life. In that process you have thoroughly enjoyed these exotic senses, however, once you are back home you no longer have these foreign senses that you have become so accustomed to. You are now home in a land that feels all too familiar and all too foreign at the same time. A strange paradox of worlds that you struggle to find the common denominator within, whilst learning to adapt. You must find the balance between the old and the new, the foreign and the familiar and the different between the old perception and the new reality.

In the early stages of my return i continued along with an internal struggle and i kept quiet. I hid my inner turmoil from those around me and put on a brave face and spoke of the stock standard travel stories to divert attention away from my true thoughts. I did not feel fully comfortable expressing my true feelings with acquaintances and the general public. My stories, my memories, my new inner thinking felt private and sacred. It took me a little while to realise that this was my own silly way of dealing with the grief of being home. I kept quiet and spoke to no one about it. Rather i would let myself become trapped in my own thoughts whilst alone and silently weep with the memories of those i left behind. I myself had entered this paradox world as a paradox of a person. I was a living contradiction as i returned to my pre-travelling self like nothing had majorly changed me just to save face. The fact is many things had changed me. No more so than the 5 months spent volunteering with Pisco Sin Fronteras. My senses had become one with the lifestyle of living in Pisco and the work we were doing there. This had become my new reality. What people deemed the 'real world' seemed like only a myth to me now. The real world was the ever growing and engulfing rat race that Western society had become. “Hey Jules when are you coming back to the real world?”.... Real world? They had no understanding of my real world. It wasn't working 40 hours a week to live a lifestyle that I'm not happy with. It wasn't living to work, so society around me can nod their head in approval. Who had my society become, and why was i so desperate to please it?

After a while I soon realised that this was not the depressive self wallowing frame of mind that was going to propel me forward. I couldn't waste the experience that I'd been apart of. I had to endeavour to cherish it, and do it the justice it deserves. I needed to spread the world and I needed to pass on my experiences and my learning, in the hope that others would feel enriched and encouraged to pursue their own journey of self discovery. It became my mission to let people know of the selflessness that was being displayed around the world by passionate people with a desire to make the world a better place.

Like the flip of a coin I had turned a new side. I put my tail behind me, and moved head on towards a new attitude of sharing the stories, the memories and the inspirations that push me onwards. I still had moments of sadness when I missed the people and families. When I thought of the overwhelming reality of the injustices and inequality that still riddled the world. These thoughts still hung over me and felt like the sharp sting of salt being rubbed into a wound that would never heel. I continued to band-aid my wound throughout the year, but it was never going to be a permanent solution. My band-aid consisted of throwing myself into the distractions of routine life; work, football, friends, surfing and whatever else I could do. Occasionally I'd slip back into old routines and feel comfortable with them and then the guilt of this would haunt me for a little while. I'd need to go away, clear my head and then get back on track.

Work kept me busy this year, the busiest of all my priorities, but I loved every minute of it. The joys of teaching this year were outweighed by no other experience in 2011. The individual battles, the personal and professional development, the constant challenges and the satisfying rewards were all part and parcel of the roller-coaster ride that was 2011 teaching. I was blessed with a phenomenal bunch of students and they will be sorely missed next year. I've attempted three different times to extend on this section but i really don't know what to say. I was truly blessed this year. To all those that were involved and made this such a fantastic experience i give you my true appreciation. Those who are reading this already know how much you helped make this happen for me, no matter how big or small the contribution. Take with you the solitude of knowing you helped make this happen for me. To my students, they kept a smile on my face even in the toughest of time when i might not have looked happy. I'm very proud of them all!

So I suppose I should get to the exciting part. Before I do let me add. Once thing that surprised me was the amount of people that followed my blog while I was away last year. I guess when I tap this stuff out and post it on the infinite space that is the internet I sometimes forget how accessible it is to everyone. In my head this just comes out as my natural thoughts, as if I'm talking to a blank canvas and my words splash upon it to create the artwork that is my mind. It was truly refreshing to hear the well wishes and people that enjoyed reading about my travels and thoughts, through the good times and the bad. I'm glad you could share a little bit of joy from my times and I hope you continue to read on. I also encourage you to pass it on, spread the word. Do what you can to enlighten someone about a different perspective of the world.

OK... So for those who aren't aware, i'm returning overseas early next year. February 29^th to be exact, which is approximately 2 months from the posting of this blog. Actually to be more specific I'm headed back to Pisco Sin Fronteras. Yes that's right! I'm returning to what has significantly contributed to the person i consider myself today. My time there was not done. I won't post much on my return just now, but i will continue something in the early new year. My return to travel blog will extend with some further insight. I've built up this blog just to work to this point, but it's getting long enough as it is and i feel a short paragraph wouldn't do it justice. Just know that this had been a huge lead up of confusion, indecisiveness, second-guessing and eventually a decision was made. There are big plans for 2012 and i can't wait to share them with you.

In my final closing I would like to clarify something. For those who read and follow please know one thing. We are only born with one life, and we're dead a long time. Life is too short to do something that doesn't make us happy. Yes this seems cliché, but it will never apply to your life and become cliche unless you really believe it. And then once you believe it you need to unlock it and capitalise. For those that look at what i'm doing and say “oh you're so lucky” or “i wish i could do what you're doing”, don't rest on your ideas, your hopes and your dreams. Make those dreams happen if you really wish for them. We all have different commitments to different priorities. Some choose family, houses, work and other things. I do not disagree with you, if you are truly happy i applaud you and wish you all the best. But if you dream of other things then i encourage you to take the plunge. Why am i lucky? I have worked hard for this. I am not lucky, i have made a lot of sacrifices to make this happen. I don't have a house, nor am i close to securing one. I have quit a job that i spent all my life at school to achieve and truly love, and i don't have a beautiful family to come home to after a great day at work. I am entering into the unknown once again and to tell you the truth it's a scary thought. This is my sacrifice. It has not been an easy choice, so please don't dismiss my actions like a flippant, young, idealistic and opportunistic choice has been made. But i don't seek, nor do i want, anyone’s pity. I don't discourage people from living the life they do now if they are happy. I'm not arrogant in thinking my actions are superior by any means. All i want is for people to see what can be achieved if we truly desire it! This can apply to anything we do in life. It doesn't have to be travel or volunteering, this is just my choice. Do it with all the things you enjoy in life. Live with pride, passion and purpose. With love in our hearts and power in our minds... anything is possible!

Thanks for reading what has become a little more personal than what you might have first thought or perceive as interesting. I'll be sure to keep the travelling blogs a little fresher and exciting :)

Have a safe New Years everyone!

The Story Concludes - Busting Open Bolivia and Arrivederci Argentina!

With the adventure of Machu Picchu behind me, and time running out, it was off to Bolivia to finish off the last leg of what has been an amazing and life changing year! The post-year conclusive thoughts will come after the blogs, but for now let me finish off the end of the trip.

A week and a half; nothing more. It was all coming to an end. With the emotional low of leaving PSF still occasionally hanging over me and the thought of going home ever so promptly looming over me it was hard to keep an upbeat tempo at times. But with a little bit of help and encouragement from my travelling entourage I managed to keep my eye on the bigger picture.  

After battling the toilet for a couple of days (nothing out of the ordinary by this stage) I managed to come out on top and get myself onto a bus Bolivia bound. The next stop was a little place reserved for the Gods in paradise; Copacabana, Bolivia. But getting there wasn’t as easy as originally planned. It is at this moment that I disclose my disobedience of Peruvian immigration laws when I admit to overstaying for visa by 2 months. However at only a $1 a day for the extra stays it only cost me $60 odd dollars and I was back on the road. My times of being an illegal immigrant were over, and I was off to Copacabana.

This touristy, yet extremely cultural, town sits just inside Bolivia on the Bolivia-Peru border and is positioned on the famous Lake Titicaca; the world’s highest altitude lake at 3,800m above sea level and the biggest lake in South America. The lake is just amazing! Fairly populated with a constant influx of tourism, but that’s what I was there to do. I was running out of time to see things so it was rush, rush, rush. After spending a night in Copacabana and checking out the little coastal town it was time to make a visit out to Isla del Sol. A sneaky little island in the sun, this pearl in the ocean is located an hour’s boat ride out of Copacabana and is completely surrounded by the crystal blue lake and breath taking views. From standing on the top of the highest peak at sun down you are blessed with an array of colours that look like an explosion in a paint store. On the one side you have the splash of yellows, pinks, oranges and purples as the sun goes down over the horizon of the lake and lights up the sky. In the distance, to the left of the sun set, you see dark clouds forming and the splintery cracks of white lightning that ignite the horizon below. Then on the other side of the sunset you get the shimmering rays of the sun dancing on the lake and shining off the distant snow capped Alps that are now poking out across the horizon through the clouds. A breathtaking panoramic view of a beautiful country.  

That night was spent relatively quietly as the whole town shuts down its electricity at 6pm and there are no lights around town. A candle lit dinner, not by choice, was then followed by an early night in a smelly hostel room. In the morning I awoke to another amazing view of the lake and Alps and then it was off to explore.

On the island there is a path that leads east to west straight across the diverse landscape and gives you a really good exploring track. With a light breakfast we took off along the path and within a couple of hours made our way to the end. The views and picturesque landscapes were amazing and it was during this casual walk that we got to experience the true beauties of Lake Titicaca and its surrounding features. At the top of one of the peaks we found some little rock statues that had been organised in neat piles and resembled some form of religious or spiritual significance. The further we went along the more rock piles we came across and our theories began to wander as we tried to make sense of the random placement of these carefully constructed statues. In the end, tired of racking our brains, we came to our own undoubtedly false conclusion that they were probably built by tourists and so we decided to make one of our own. Not quite replicating the craft of these possibly ancient relics I was pretty happy in the end with our efforts, and now we leave the theory open.

After a quick snack it was back on the boat and then a cruisey trip back to the main land. The pristine translucent water and intangible beauty on the way back really instilled the realisation of the amazing sights the world has to offer.

The next stop on my fading adventure was La Paz, capital city of Bolivia. The bus ride there wasn’t as bad as some have been in the past and by nightfall we were in La Paz. After a quick accommodation stop it was bed and then early to rise the next day. I had 6 days and still needed to make the epic journey down to Buenos Aires. Originally I planned on catching a bus down there, but after discovering it would take days I was quickly looking at alternative options. Besides, I didn’t really feel like spending the last three days of a year away sitting on a bus that may or may not make it there in time. Instead I decided to shop around for the cheapest flight that would then leave me with extra days to spend. Eventually I found one that basically destroyed the last part of my funds.

I was in a very mixed mind at this point. With the reality of returning home becoming more apparent it was hard not to feel upset at times that it was really coming to an end. I battled hard to contain this, but at times it got the better of me. I had a few things I wanted to do before I left so I just put my head down and persevered.

The two biggest things that were on my list were descending the infamous Death Road and finally being able to indulge in some purchases of the incredible arts, crafts, clothing and souvenirs that South America is in abundance of at almost criminally cheap prices. With the wide selection of knits and woven garments lining not only streets, but whole suburbs, it was a drawn out process doing my best to bargain down to the appropriate prices and find exactly what I was after. After virtually spending a whole day shopping I was somewhat satisfied with my assortment of purchases. I made sure to buy a few things for my family, but apart from that I didn’t know what I was running out of faster; money or bag space. Upon returning home, and then a couple of days later packing, I had to make some tough choices and throw out some of my old clothes just to bring home the new stuff, however after wearing the same clothes for a year it wasn’t that much of a hassle.

At was also at this point of my shopping that we came across an old volunteering buddy randomly in the streets of La Paz. Good old Aussie Jeff who I hadn’t seen in about a month was spotted across the road from us in the busy city centre of the city. In fact the only reason we first noticed him was because of his PSF t-shirt that will forever have the distinct colour code of ‘PSF blue’ when referring to anything that resembles a sky blue. Just one of the small memories that will continue to stick with me that I hope I never forget.

After a brief catch up we arranged to have a quality night out together and then the next day to hit up Death Road. We got onto organising a tour and were pumped to check out what all the fuss was about cycling down the world’s most dangerous road. Starting at 4,600m above sea level you make your way down one of the sketchiest ‘roads’ ever cycling down 60 odd kilometres to the town at the bottom at 1,200m above sea level. The road, if you’d call a gravel path only 3m wide a road, has been cut straight into the mountains, and so as a result it has sheer cliff drops on the sides that at times plummet as deep as 600m below. Falling off the side of this track as you hurtle along at crazy speeds on your decked out mountain bike would clearly end in tragedy. Originally the road was reported as being responsible for between 200-300 deaths per year, but since a new road has opened up, this number has been reduced dramatically. The major operation of the road these days is for tourism purposes because people find it too dodgy to use, and this is coming from Bolivian standards. You can only imagine how this would go if it had to comply with Australian road safety standards; the TAC would lose their shit.

So the day was set and I was super excited to be finishing off Bolivia. We got up really early to make our journey up to the starting point. Being so early and at high altitude meant the air outside was freezing to begin with. We assembled at the top and got to know our guides a little more. They got our adventure underway and we were kitted up in our safety gear, given a brief on the sections of the road and ready to rock! The first part of the track was standard bitumen road and was just a nice scenic view. The morning chill started to fade away as it was replaced with a beautiful clear sunny day. We descended upon our first pit stop for the day just in time to see an ambulance stretchering away an overzealous tourist who had came off a part of the track and busted himself up pretty bad. Initial reports said he’d live, but it sure did set the scene for the next part as we embarked on the most dangerous section of the road.

We’d hit the gravel by this stage and there were varying degrees of anticipation. I on the one hand was extremely pumped to hit this as fast as I could. The adrenaline really kicked in and I smashed the first part of the track trailing the first guide who went first. At one stage I actually took a corner too wide and came dangerously close to the cliff face as I just managed to balance myself and stay on track. It was from that point that I took a little more precaution, and I definitely didn’t tell mum about that one.

After another small break we finished off the road within a couple of hours and made it safely to the bottom. It was at this time that we celebrated the best way we knew how; to drink. And drink we did. Partly to excite the adrenaline pumping through us, and partly because we had to face getting back into our rickety mini-bus to ascend up what we just hurtled down. Some say this is the most dangerous part, and as night time fell and the fog and rain blinded our visibility the only safe thing to do was smash out tunes and drink the nerves away. Thankfully we survived unscathed and made it back to one of the local hostels to continue the night’s festivities.

The next couple of days in Bolivia were just tying up a few loose ends. I got out to see the latest instalment of Harry Potter, did a little bit more shopping, finalised my bag and got ready to head home. The morning I was set to fly to Argentina was a sad day as I said goodbye to some friends and headed to the airport in the back of a cab with my headphones on and making no conversation, just simply letting the memories rush over me. I got onto the plane ok and with a quick domestic stopover in Southern Bolivia I was landing safely in Argentina. Little did I realise that upon arriving through the international airport I was required to pay a tax of $100 that I did not have. In fact I had zero money at this stage, and only a little bit of Bolivano’s left which remarkably I couldn’t exchange at the airport. Luckily because I was only in Argentina for less than 24 hours so I was able to avoid spending my last night in an airport like my Tom Hanks times in Colorado. However I still confronted a problem because I had no Argentinean money and needed to get a bus into the city centre. Once again the good luck gods were on my side, or perhaps it was the Incan condor statue I was travelling with that represents safe travel, because I found a lovely Aussie lady who bought me a busy ticket out of her good will and generosity. We were catching the same flight home to Australia the next day so I had the opportunity to pay her back, even though she insisted on the donation.

Needless to say it was going to be a rough 24 hours as I scrounged around until heading home. The rest of the day was spent settling into a hostel for the last time in a while. I did a little lap of the city centre and immediately became quite frustrated that I wasn’t able to spend more time in Buenos Aires. A truly spectacular city that has a real colonial European feel to it. Quite classy and different to the rest of the South American capital cities that I had explored. Rather than get out and see all the things that I wasn’t able to do in my limited time I decided on plan B; which was to just head back to the hostel and go out of this trip just like the way I went in. I positioned myself at a nice spot by the hostel bar, struck up a conversation with the girl who worked at the hostel and spent the rest of the afternoon/night having a chat with people from the hostel and calling it a night when I passed out.

The next morning happened all so fast. I hit up a cab with another girl who was headed Down Under as well and we got to the airport, got our tickets and boarded the plane. After a year on the road it was my first experience of Australian culture again when I stepped onto that Qantas plane and replaced stewards Jose and Ramira for Darren and Sharon. The trip back was a blast and I got some royalty treatment from a particular stewardess who took an interest in my story of volunteering and such. After I cracked my 5^th VB tinnie she informed me that the beers were getting warm so she’s popped them in the ice tray. Next beer I get comes with ice particles on it and a big smile. I then smashed all the free food I could and enjoyed some quality films I’d missed during my time away.

One special mention goes to the trip home when we bypassed Antarctica and I got a fantastic aerial view during the day of this icy wonderland. I then touched down in Sydney and made a quick domestic change to Melbourne, smashed out a 45min power nap lying across three empty seats and then returned home once more to Melbourne. Luke was generous enough to come and pick me up at 1am and I was back on the Tulla, back into the real world and the rest is history!

351 days, 9 countries, countless friends, indescribable memories, life experiences and an even bigger desire to get out and see all the world has to offer.

I hope you’ve enjoyed reading my blogs as much as I have enjoyed writing them. This will not be the last of my travel writings, but for now it will do.

Cheers,

Jules Pedro Hatfield

Life On The Road Again – Polishing Off Peru

Wow has it been some time since I’ve last updated this blog. Firstly; apologies on the massive delay. After being so meticulous with the first 6 months, I’ve really let the final 6 months slide faster than Australia’s world class test cricket ranking. By the stage of my writing now I’ve already been home for a month (man does it really fly that fast???), but I thought it about time to begin some more reflection and fill you in with the remainder of my trip. Last blog I left you with was after arriving and spending my first two weeks at the volunteer relief organization in Pisco, Peru called Pisco Sin Fronteras. What most of you probably already know if you had been following some pictures is that I ended up staying on as a volunteer in Pisco for 5 months. Well beyond what I initially imagined, but worth every second of the experience.

For now, however, I’m not going to write about my experience volunteering in Pisco. I’m saving that for the grand master piece finale. It’s going to be the read of the adventure. A work in progress, currently sitting at five pages, I’m hoping to get that finished in the next month. Where my adventures starts now is right after I left Pisco and am sitting on the 17 hour bus ride from Hell taking me from Ica to Cusco. Having stayed at Pisco Sin Fronteras for so long I now only have 2 ½ weeks to get myself from the middle of Peru right down to Buenos Aires, Argentina for my flight home. It is here that we’ll pick up the adventure once again….

As I board the bus from Ica to Cusco I take some time to bid farewell to an area that has provided me with such life long memories and experiences. A place I not only called home, but a place that really felt like home. Tomorrow morning, when I next step off the bus, I’ll be a world away from the people, places and life that I lived with for 5 good months.

It takes me very little time to remember just how unpleasant these long bus rides can be when the air-conditioning fails to work during the day while it’s stinking hot, and then at night it suddenly decides to kick in just as the outside temperatures plummet like an Enron stock. Add that to the fact that the longest stretch of straight road is probably only a few kilometers, and you’ve got yourself quite an experience. The ride to Cusco was non-stop twists, turns, ups and downs, and for the first time in a while I started to battle with motion/travel sickness. Either that or the elevation in sea level, coming from ground zero in Pisco and climbing up to 3,800m in Cusco, was adding to the cause as well.

Main plaza in Cusco

This ride is a pretty stock standard South American long distance bus trip. You get fed questionable, yet somewhat satisfying, food; they play a selection of really inappropriately rated movies considering the young audience on board; when the movies finish the music occasionally begins; and you are never able to successfully direct your aim into the toilet bowl given the amount of deviation on the road. And just when you finally settle into all the elements that make this bus trip seem sketchy you turn one of the millions of corners to Cusco and see a bus half hanging off the highway cliff. This makes for an interesting attempt at a nights sleep.

Once arriving in Cusco there wasn’t a lot to do but catch up on some sleep and have a few down days to a.) adjust to the sudden change in altitude; b.) debrief from my time in Pisco; and c.) have a few touristy ‘me’ days after volunteering for the last 5 months. I also wasn’t feeling the best at this stage having, what I assumed to be, a cold for the past few days. Even though I was on a tight schedule, a few days were hopefully going to do me wonders.

The few days that followed were spent cruising around Cusco taking in the sights for the first time in a while. I’d almost forgotten how to be a tourist. I must admit, it was nice to get around at a leisurely pace and just drift. Cusco is an amazingly beautiful city, and I would have to say my favourite looking place by a long shot. The careful mix of ancient craft and colonial architecture really made for an impressively designed and set out city. Quite like many cities in Latin America there were the trademark plazas and churches, however Cusco pulled them off with an element of class unseen to date. You could tell the city was desperate to hold onto aspects of its ancient Incan past, but what saddened me is that I couldn’t determine if that was for them, or for us. Although to be fair, for a place that is listed as the capital city of tourism in South America, there were many aspects left untouched that pleased me. Once you got out of the tourist district you saw flashes and hints of old style living, but unfortunately I didn’t get out as much as I’d wished.

After a couple of days around Cusco, still feeling relatively unwell, I got the news from volunteers back in Pisco that a typhoid breakout was occurring within the volunteers and that many people were being diagnosed. Interesting to note here; that although receiving the immunization it is still only 50-80% effective against the virus. Thanks for letting me know that. Having not felt the best for the last week I thought it safe to go get a quick check. After a recommendation from the lady at the hostel myself, and a fellow volunteer who I was with at the time, decided it best to check ourselves out.

Now here is the part where I am honest against my will. What I would love to say is that I wasn’t nervous at the doctors, but to be fair, I am a bit of a baby when it comes to visiting the doctors. Don’t really need to go into detail here because most of it involved me being a scared rabbit waiting in the headlights, but after a nervous hour (where I must add that the Clinica San Jose was highly efficient and effective in treating us…or perhaps it was the German doctor?) we were both cleared from typhoid. Not such great news for a bunch of friends who were unfortunately diagnosed.

With confidence in my health re-established I felt it time to get onto what I wanted to do most while in Cusco; visit the ancient Incan site of Machu Picchu. After exploring a few options and tour agencies we finally came across one that sounded good. Actually it didn’t sound exceptionally good, but after listening to half a dozen tourist agents we soon realized that they were all selling the same tour so it didn’t really matter who we went with. A 4 day/3 night tour that had biking, hiking and the Machu Picchu trek on the final day. It was an early night before we left due to the earlier start than usual the next morning.

I woke the next morning feeling slightly better, which was good because the next couple of days were fairly active. It began with a drive up a mountain to the starting point from where we would all mountain bike down to our first resting place for the night. Being early in the morning and sitting at over 4,500m above sea level it was cold as we disembarked the bus and got aquatinted with our bikes. Fog spread across the horizon like a blank painting canvas and all that could be seen beyond a few meters in front of you was blending shades of white and grey.

We took off and within a few minutes hit a nice patch of off-road downhill. Feeling confident of my biking abilities almost proved costly here as I rattled down the bumpy, slippery track at full speed. The wind busted into my eyes, the fog clouded my vision and by this stage I was going too fast to hit the brakes. I just had to ride this one and hope for the best. I managed to survive that section and got a bit of a wakeup call to taking it easy. Unfortunately one of the girls on our tour wasn’t as lucky as she toppled off the track on the way down. Thankfully she was alright.

The remainder of the track was pretty straight forward and it gave us all a good opportunity to take in the local scenery as we descended the highway into the town below. After stopping for the day it was a quick snack, a bike ride to our accommodation, a trip to the river for a swim and then dinner. After dinner we watched the locals partake in a game of soccer that was highly amusing. We cheered for the underdog we appropriately named ‘Smiley’ for his keen and robust attitude, but unfortunately his skills did not match his enthusiastic approach.

The next day we woke to rain bucketing down. The day was planned as a hike through the jungle across parts of the original Inca trail for 7 hours. Even though advised I’d packed no rain cover so I donned a cheap poncho that I was lucky to pick up at some of the stores. I wasn’t the only one who’d arrived unprepared so once we were organized we set off with our multi-colour mixture of ponchos across the track. Occasionally we’d stop and our guide would talk about the plants or something, but we all quickly realised that our guide was fairly ordinary. As the day progressed we continued to walk through the jungle and got some really nice views of the valley. Our guide had now turned from fairly ordinary to fairly useless, but we persevered. We were rewarded at the end of the day with a trip to the hot springs to relax and soak. It was here I also randomly bumped into a friend from volunteering so we had a nice catch up over a cold beer in the natural hot springs. Once that was over it was a short walk to our accommodation, the assembling of a mini-tron with quite possibly the most hilarious blanket even seen (a picture of two dogs and the randomly printed slogans; ‘Good Colleagues’, ‘Romantic Lovers Dog’ and then just ‘Good, Good, Good’), dinner and then bed.

The next day a few of us decided on a spur of the moment change of plans and ditched the mornings walk for some seriously wicked zip-lining. After breakfast we hit the canopies and smashed across 6 awesome flying foxes zipping between mountains and over valleys and rivers. After this we caught up with the rest of the group for lunch and then embarked on our walk to Aguas Calientes, the town at the foot of the Machu Picchu trek, along the train tracks. Once arriving in Aguas Calientes we had dinner, probably a few too many beers on my behalf and then an early night in preparation for a very early start the next day. We were getting up at 3am in the morning to get up to Machu Picchu before the swarms of people flooded in.

The morning journey was both exciting and tiring to the Machu Picchu gates. It involved a 45min walk to the bridge gates and then a solid hour hike up hill to the main gates where we waited for half an hour till they opened. Our tour began and luckily we’d been given a new tour guide after ours ditched us, no real loss there. For the first couple of hours we cruised around with the guide as he explained the ancient features and theories of the mysterious Machu Picchu. Still argued among scholars there is a mixture of theories regarding the use and purpose of Machu Picchu. Theories range from astrological centre, agricultural centre, university of scholars, kings resort, sacrificial grounds and such; either way it is a really amazing place and overall was an incredible experience. 

Being the beginning of the rainy season we were unfortunate not to receive crystal clear skies and perfect views, but the foggy overcast helped add elements of mystery and intrigue to this wondrous landmark of the Incas. The site was more than I could imagine, and looking back now I realise how much I appreciate my time up there. The architecture, the structures, the designs all added elements to the Incas class and dominance as the ruling culture of the time. They were geniuses of their time in the predicted planning and organising of structures and ideas.

One of the goals of visiting Machu Picchu is to get up the adjoining mountain named Huayna Picchu, where only the first 400 tickets are distributed to the thousands of daily visitors, to get a perfect bird’s eye view Machu Picchu. The fog at this stage was struggling to clear and we put it off to the very last moment to get within the gates to ascend Huayna Picchu. On the way up we saw some friends on the way down who had unsuccessfully obtained a clear view of Machu Picchu from the top. Slightly disheartened we decided to run the gauntlet anyway and proceed with the additional hour hike to the top. Upon reaching the top we were greeted with a cloudy foggy view. However patience is a virtual, and within waiting 15mins we were welcomed with a perfect clear view of the ancient site below. We awed in amazement for the next half hour and just appreciated the beauty that lay below us. We talked about theories, came up with our own theories and just absorbed the beauty and experience presented to us. 

The climb down was one mixed with both satisfaction and fatigue after walking up and down hills for the last 10 hours. After doing another lap of Machu Picchu we were satisfied with our exploration and decided to call it a day. Standing at the gates about to head home I took one last backwards glance at the site before me. For a moment I could almost picture it in its original glory. Hard edged labourers ploughing or working the agricultural fields; Alpaca’s roaming freely unaware of their inevitable fate; children running and playing wilfully amongst the ancient stone structures; and all sorts of beautiful and brightly woven garments adorning the people and houses. They don’t call it a wonder of the world for nothing.

After the eventful 4 days to Machu Picchu the next couple of days in Cusco were very low key. I managed to organise a few catch ups with friends I knew were going to be in town. We hit up a nice burger place for dinner one night and I sampled some Alpaca meat; quite delicious actually. After that there was a little bit more site seeing and then organising the final part of my trip. A had, at this time, a little over a week before it was time to go and I wanted to slip into Bolivia quickly to cycle down the infamous Death Road. In the next part of my adventure there is my time in Copacabana, Bolivia at the amazing Lake Titicaca, my time in the capital La Paz, Death Road and then homeward bound. Stayed tuned, almost over now...