There is really no way I can do my family's Peruvian trip justice. It included the three parts of Perú: Costa, Sierra y Selva. It included three families, the Meyer one, the Romani-Cruzes, and the Cueva Huamlianos, it included two Christmas plays, it included two types of sickness, altitude and the other, it included acetazolamid and pepto bizmal, it included nights out, and nights dog-tired in, Spanish and Quechua, Inca trails and fear of heights. Most of all it included people, and what those people from various countries and cultures left behind are memories.
To better organize my thoughts (I've had complaints about this in the past—Matthew!)--I again turn to the world of music with a new rendition on the 12 days of Christmas.
On the first day of Christmas, three members of the Meyer family arrived to the Lima Airport—Thanks a lot Duffy for the free night in the Marriot—one of the nicest hotels in Lima was certainly easy for a Peace Corps Volunteer to beat in quality for the remainder of the trip. Ask Katherine, it only got better after that :).
On the second day of Christmas the Meyer family took a 3 hour taxi ride, risking their lives and crossing a total of 20 miles w/ our fearless entrepreneur taxista York. Remember, Lima is host to how many people? 9 Million—Perú's population around 28-30 mill. Dad also touched a five hundred year old bone in the Catacombs in the San Franciscan Church.
On the third day of Christmas, we ate an international barbecue and played Old Maid with my host family in Yanacoto.
On the fourth day of Christmas, Matthew punched into Colombian air-space a little late. Waiting for his arrival, we picnicked and traveled back to Lima with trusty York.
On the fifth day of Christmas the Meyer family started to suffer from Altitude sickness.
On the sixth day of Christmas, we visited the Carhuaz Market.
On the seventh day of Christmas, those that were not suffering from Altitude sickness visited glacial lakes. Later, Matthew, Kyle and I ate Pannetone and Chocolate, and then were served turkey, and danced late into the night (in that exact order).
On the eighth day of Christmas (Noche Buena)--Those not suffering from being in Perú, went to the Christmas Plays and Mass. We first watched Mary searching for a hotel in Jangas with her donkey, sat through what must have been a 6 hour mass, and after much ado, arrived at the main event. Jangas has a 50 year tradition of acting out a Dali-surrealist Christmas Play.
I acted in the minor (and unimportant) part of “Rey Caballero” affectionately referred to as “Rey Gringo.” The play made little sense, but included a great scene of fireworks. Dad, either having no fear of the fireworks, or no desire to get out of his comfortable seat at 11:30 at night, stood his ground as the special effects started whizzing by his head and the rest of the town retreated.
On the ninth day of Christmas, dad lost his pants, and it took an hour to get them back. We all ate guinea-pig (poor little bastards, not a great Christmas for them—the serving is usually 2 people/pig) with my wonderful host family. We then went out to a Curry Meal for Christmas dinner with my Ancash Peace Corps friends and loaded up on a mid-night bus. Incredibly, after the guinea pig and curry, everyone slept pretty well in the 10,000 foot descent to Lima.
On the tenth day of Christmas we arrived in Cusco to our lovely hostile where we were rained on inside and chomped on by beg bugs.
On the eleventh day of Christmas the Inka Jungle Trail tour began. We biked for three hours in freezing cold, until it was hot and then we got bug bites.
On the twelfth day of Christmas—We ALL risked our lives on a 3 foot wide trail that had a 1000 foot drop. The rest of the family witnessed our patronizing guide (chicos) explain an ancient Incan ceremony on a 5 foot “wide” ledge, while the other guide took me the hell down.
Katherine, Matthew and I finished a 12 KM pilgrimage by foot to Santa Teresa—the goal always being just around the next Mountain.
On the thirteenth day of Christmas we all walked for 20 Kilometers. After the trek, Matthew and I relaxed in the world famous hot baths of “Aguas Calientes” where we enjoyed the green water, smell of urine, forty five other people in the bath, and middle-aged men who hit on us.
On the fourteenth day of Christmas we woke up at 4 a.m. and made it to Maccu Piccu in the early morning rains. Here we enjoyed one of the great Wonders of the Worlds, feeling very lucky to have this opportunity.
On the fifteenth day of Christmas—After stealthing our bags out of the beg-bug hostile of a few days ago, we stayed at the “Niños” hotel—a beautiful place. We woke up, and headed to Lima. Where I imagine Katherine, Mom and Dad passed out for most of the day.
Matthew and I went out, celebrated New Years at a discoteca on my cell phone (count downs are not big here—remember what I had said about time here?--instead of countdowns, here the tradition instead is to burn old clothes and to wear new Yellow Underwear).
At 2:30 a.m. we went back to our hostal, where the family party was raging, and we were promptly fed, rice, potatoes and a half turkey each. At three thirty we passed out in our beds to blaring Cumbia Music.
After all this excitement, I am back in Jangas, more in love with Perú than ever, and more grateful than ever for the Romani-Cruz and Cueva Huamliano families—but especially feeling blessed for my membership in the Meyer family. What other family lets their 22 year old plan an entire trip based on his and his 27 year old brother's preferences? Mom and Dad you are GOOD sports and are kicking ass well into your 40s :).
Thank you family for visiting—and if any of these adventures appeal to the other 5 people that regularly read my blog—then plan yourself a visit. You get to the Lima Airport, I (and York) will do the rest.
Just be ready for the mosquito bites, bed bugs, rainy rooms, sleeping two feet from a major highway—not like any of these things matter, as we'll be together, and you probably won't sleep that much anyway.
