Welcome Words Etched in the Mountain

I am always amazed at time’s ferocious and yet consistent appetite. It sounds cliche, but it really does feel like it was only yesterday when John and I were half asleep in the cab from the Buenos Aires airport when I exclaimed, ‘My netbook! I left it on the plane!’

I knew the day would come when John would go back to Canada and I would continue my journey alone. I know I am a strong person, but the thought of travelling alone has always scared me. Today was the day. That afternoon he would have to board a plane back to Canada, and I hated this idea more than I thought I would, or cared to admit.

We were up very early that morning to catch a 7:30am plane out of Bolivia to Cusco. The original plan was to get into Peru sooner so John could see some of it, but for a variety of reasons including flight availability, we flew into the Cusco the same day John had to fly home.

Fist order of business: Get me checked into a hostel. John and I have been kind of sucks hostelling it. We haven’t been crashing in shared dorms; rather we’ve enjoyed the peace and quiet of our own twin room. We’ve gotten a kick out of sleeping in bunk beds more than once. I have decided to dorm it going alone (meaning sharing a room with a bunch of strangers), if only to increase my chances of meeting other people. The hostel I checked into had no dorm availability, so I sprung extra for my own room.

Cuzco is a Beautiful City

We fell in love with Peru and Cusco immediately. The people were so friendly, from the lady at the hostel who made us cocoa leaf tea (simply steeped cocoa leaves in hot water) to the friendly wait staff at the coffee shop with the pottery I just couldn’t resist buying. The streets were all cobblestone and it felt like the Spanish version of the town in the movie ‘Chocolat’. It was charming and quaint and warm and sunny and friendly. Some of the streets were incredibly narrow, and I found out after that it was because they were designed only for horses.

The Peruvians are short. They must have been even shorter back in the day because the doorways were incredibly short. And I mean incredibly. If you are 5’8¨, you have to duck. There’s signs everywhere warning of this. It’s potentialy lethal, and being 5’10¨, made me very nervous wandering around the hostel.

We walked around and had delicious food. I’ve heard that the Peruvian food is wonderful, and the rumors are true. We took a brief jaunt around a Sun Temple, admired the beautiful city and Peruvian culture, and before I knew it, we were en route back to the hostel so John could grab his bag and get to the airport.

I hate crying and don’t do it very often. John and I actually commented a couple weeks ago that in all the years he’s known me, he’s never seen me cry. I figured that would help me keep it together, combined with the fact that the quaint city was so warm, literally and figuratively.

Who will goof off with me in museums when he's gone?

We walked into the hostel and I wrapped my head so badly off the doorway that I saw stars. The sound of the thud made John cringe, along with the guy down the hall. I clutched my head in pain and could say nothing while I waited for the sharp pain to subside. I went to pay my bill while John went to collect his bag.

I squared up and felt unwelcome tears well up behind my eyeballs. I got out of the reception area, walked into my room, and fell apart. John thought maybe I wrapped my head harder than he thought. But no, the sheer fear of travelling alone and parting ways with what turned out to be a great travel companion was more than I could bear, and I cried my little heart out. Maybe it was good that I lost it in front of John because he had some comforting words for me. He reassured me that it would be fine, that I would be courageous and I would have the time of my life. And I know this is true.

I travel a lot for work and have lived alone for a couple years. I have learned how to enjoy solitude and how to manage loneliness. Isolation is a different feeling, one that I am not too familiar with. I am thankful for this opportunity and thankful that by circumstances I got my own room for the night. More than anything, I am thankful for the Internet cafe next door that enabled me to talk to my friend back home, and also thankful for the number of blog hits that have exceeded my wildest imagination. I feel connected out here in some ways and look forward to more adventures. Even though I will experience them alone, I know my community is only a mouse click away.

That concludes my sentimental post of the journey.