The road ahead

Jonathan:

Megan and I have both been surprised by the underlying tone of negativity our writings have had lately, and it's motivated us to step back for a day or two and reflect on why.

A few days ago we took a gorgeous road trip between the desert oasis of San Pedro de Atacama in northern Chile, and the lush green valley's of Salta in northwest Argentina. For much of the journey I found myself staring out the window wondering why so much of the beauty we've encountered over the past several weeks had been so difficult to enjoy. I was trying to pinpoint the moment that things had shifted for us. What had happened that had caused us to switch so decisively from our spirit of tranquility, to feeling so victimized and targeted?

We had really been enjoying our time in Peru up until Cusco; the northern coast and the Cordillera Blanca had been amazing; and even the initial difficulties we experienced in Cusco hadn't been enough to kill our spirits. Two weeks into our time there we were enjoying ourselves well enough to change our plans and stay an extra week. We were planning a backpacking trip to nearby Ausangate, and... that's when my bag was stolen, from the very agency where we had been planning that trip. Yesterday it occurred to me that I never really let it sink in how difficult that was.

It's pretty normal for me to try to handle difficult situations rationally, but I don't usually do it to such an extent that I completely deprive myself of the emotional experience and the invaluable learning process that inevitably ensues. Regardless, in this case I think I did.

When the dust had settled after the bag was taken - the police reports had been filled out, the insurance claims had been filed, and we had given up hope that anyone would be able to find anything - I sat down to write about the experience. Knowing this blog has served as an excellent tool for processing the powerful and sometimes trying experiences that have defined this trip for the two of us, I fully intended to write about the intense frustration I was feeling in the midst of my tremendous sense of loss - my brand new camera that had just been delivered a few days before, eight months of notes and countless hours of effort I had poured into my Spanish notebooks, my travel journal... my drawings, my reflections, my cultural observations, my goals for when we return home... everything was lost for good. I intended to write about the sense of vulnerability we were feeling, and the distrust we seemed to have developed toward everyone around us, even those who were just trying to help. I titled the post "Reality Check," and I began to write.

To my surprise, I did not end up writing about my intense emotional experience at all. In fact, I didn't even mention the theft. Instead I wrote about how I thought Cusco wasn't such a good fit for the two of us this time around, and we probably just needed to move on. I changed the title to "Then and Now," and I asked Megan if she could casually mention in her post that I had happened to lose all of my most valued possessions. In the second blogging opportunity I had to process what I was going through, "Nine Months Deep," I ended up writing more about how hostile our experience in Peru had felt, and that maybe our trip had peaked and we were just starting to lose our capacity to enjoy ourselves down here. I think there is some genuine truth behind both posts, which is important to acknowledge, but in looking back I think they were both written in an effort to convince myself that the problem was some outside condition, something separate from us.

In my moment of clarity the other day, it occurred to me that a huge part of the negativity we've been experiencing these past few weeks is something we've been dragging around with us from place to place. Peru hadn't changed; we had. That kind of a shift in perception is not something that can be fixed by a simple change of scenery, but it certainly doesn't mean that we have lost our capacity to create meaningful experiences on this trip.

The incredible beauty that has surrounded us since we arrived in Argentina a few days ago has almost forced me to admit that I don't want to finish out these next three months by just going through the motions. I want to be here to experience everything that is waiting for us on the road ahead, and I want to do it with the sense of peace and openness that has already allowed this trip to become the journey of a lifetime.

Nine months deep

Jonathan:
Since We left Cusco, moving on has felt like... well, moving on. We paid a brief visit to the small town of Puno, sandwiched between the Peruvian altiplano and the crystal blue waters of Lake Titicaca. Aside from some breathtaking vistas of the lake and some fantastic restaurant experiences, neither of us were enamoured with Puno itself. We did manage to take a few trips out into the lake on gruelingly slow collectivo water taxis (i.e. 34km = 4 hour journey). One trip was to visit a colony of floating man-made islands inhabited by the descendants of the Uros people, a pre-Inca tribe who began constructing their amazing floating reed homes centuries ago to escape their oppressive neighbors; and another trip was to spend a night with a local family on the remote island of Taquile.

Originally Titicaca was going to be our entry point into Bolivia, where we were planning on spending a significant chunk of time as we worked our way south to Buenos Aires where Megan's sister and her boyfriend will be meeting us in the beginning of December. But, a ridiculous new entry fee (special for US citizens, everyone else enters free), and an escalating political situation in southern Bolivia were enough to persuade us to save that visit for another trip. So instead of crossing the lake, we headed out toward the southern metropolis of Arequipa, the cosmopolitan capital of Peru. While the city remained as handsome and smart as we had remembered from our trip three years ago, our experience there was dampened by two annoying colds (one for each of us), and a strong desire to get the heck out of Peru. After a visit to a local clinic for some industrial strength cough syrup, antibiotics, and a few other drugs (we didn't ask), we bid farewell to Arequipa and Peru. Since then we've been slowly but surely working our way through northern Chile on our way down to Buenos Aires.

Soon after we left Cusco, it occurred to both of us that while the staggering natural beauty of Peru had been some of the most impressive we had experienced on our trip so far, our cultural experience had left us feeling a little bit... played. The vast majority of our personal experiences in Peru were rich with hospitality and cultural exchange. Most of the time we felt very welcome and well looked after, but more than in any other country our experience seemed riddled with little dishonest exchanges - misrepresented services, trick calculators to determine exchange rates, cut corners, theft! - a slew of seemingly shady deals. With the exception of my bag being stolen, no single event seemed exceedingly detrimental. We were cheated out of fifty cents here, a dollar there, we took a few bum tours... nothing epic. But unfortunately it was the dishonesty, not the hospitality that's stuck with us.

Again, we're not sure if it was Peru itself or simply the timing in our trip that drove our experience. For all we know this kind of stuff has been happening to us since we left home, and we've only recently been able to communicate well enough to know about it. Regardless, Peru holds the heavy responsibility of having apprised us of this unfortunate reality, and it holds a slightly tinged place in our hearts as a result.

The grand realization about the nature of our journey which we were hoping to stumble upon on our way south has not turned out to be quite what we expected. We were both hoping to emerge from this past month's doldrums with a renewed sense of direction, motivation, and enthusiasm for travel. Instead we've come to the awkward realization that maybe our trip has already peaked. It seems that for almost 9 months now our time has been filled to the brim with fantastic adventures, rich discoveries, rewarding relationships, and once-in-a-lifetime experiences. I'm not sure how long that can go on before "rich and rewarding" starts to feel normal. It's not that our experiences are becoming dull, it just seems that lately we're more impressed by feelings of solidity than we are by exhillerating new adventures. Maybe we've been trying too hard.

It's funny how similar this sounds to what I wrote about my experience at Lago Atitlan back in May - about not needing to try so hard to create meaningful experiences. The truth is it's exactly the same realization, it's just nine months deep this time.

Then and now

Jonathan:
It's interesting to reflect on what I remember expecting from Cusco before we arrived four weeks ago. On the long twisting bus ride here, I remember our hearts were fluttering with fond memories of this quaint colonial town and the majestic andean landscape we had grown to adore on our previous trip to Peru three years ago. The rich connection we felt with this place back then, with its culture, its history, and the sheer beauty of the surrounding countryside, played a significant role in our decision to return to this part of the world on this year's epic journey.

In a way, I think my personal style of idealized memory-making may have doomed this return trip to be a little unfairly judged. The memories I had taken with me from our first visit to this part of the world had spent the past three years aging into a rich barrage of images, so enchantingly perfect that, this time around, the bustling reality of this tourist Mecca didn't stand a chance.

This city has undeniable charm. As I look around at the narrow cobbled streets lined by impeccable Inka masonry walls, and the richly textured Spanish architecture that towers above the city's Andean foundations, I can't help but let a touch of the warmth and admiration I once felt for this place swell to the surface. But there's no doubt that over the course of the past month, my sentiments toward this place have changed.

Although we've been here longer than any other city on our trip so far, we've struggled to feel settled here. I don't know how much of our experience has been due to the reality of the place, or simply its timing in our trip. In a lot of ways I think we were expecting Cusco to be able to replicate some portion of the enriching depth we've found in so many other corners of this continent. The reality is that this place already provided us with that experience three years ago, and it almost seems unfair to have expected it again.

Instead, our time here has been riddled with challenges, and it's left us feeling a bit raw. Cusco is seeming to be a place of transition for the two of us - a place of difficult learning, personal reflection, and shifts in self-perception. Once again we're feeling a dire need to step back and redefine what we're looking for and what this trip means for us, to try and shift our perspective just enough to shed some light on an opportunity we may not have recognized before.

Armed with optimism for the renewed sense of direction we hope to find in the weeks to come, we will be heading out tomorrow to the high-altitude town of Puno on the shores of lake Titicaca, for some nice cold mountain air, some rest, and hopefully a fresh start.

Missing passion

Megan:
I have been trying to write about our time in Cusco for the past week and have encountered a lot of trouble making any kind of point. I feel like there were some real challenges as well as wonderful moments, but I think the reason for this block is that when I look back on our time there I don't feel any passion. We both felt relatively indifferent about our cumulative time in school, with our local family, and exploring the city - which is probably more closely tied to where we are in the process of this trip than our physical location.

Most of our past month was spent involved in a Spanish school - studying, living with a local family and getting to know some of the other students. We spent a good portion of our first week talking to the director of the school about things that didn't feel like a good fit for us. This began with the first 'family' we moved in with - we very quickly realized that this location was a 50 minute walk from school, it was really more of a small hotel complete with business cards, and all of the travelers ate at a separate (English speaking) table from the rest of the family. Obviously not our style.

Our second family resolved a number of the previous problems, but we still ended up feeling relatively indifferent about the experience. There were a few substantial conversations where we shared our thoughts on the upcoming presidential election or the conquering of the indigenous people in both of our countries centuries before, but we never really felt like part of the family as we had in previous home stays. We also found conversations around the table quickly turned to English since we shared the house with another couple traveling from the UK who had no prior experience with Spanish. We realized this was not an ideal situation when we found ourselves leaving the house so we could practice speaking a little Spanish on our own.

I found myself confronting the director of the school again regarding whether one of my teachers was really a good fit for me, and trying to get clear what my curriculum would be for the following two weeks since it was not yet apparent to me that there was in fact a plan in place. By the way, as proof that we are in fact learning, all of these conversations now take place in Spanish. After that meeting, things improved, but Jon and I had enough days of only half-understanding what we were being taught, that we were pretty ready when the last day of classes rolled around.

One of the most challenging events of our time in Cusco is that Jon's day bag was stolen. We were in a travel agency discussing the details of a possible upcoming high-altitude backpacking trip, and somehow a man off the street managed to swipe Jon's bag from beside his chair without us noticing. We both went through a range of emotions...disbelief (surely this didn't just happen to us - we're always so careful), anger, an awareness of our extreme vulnerability, complete acceptance (for whatever reason this is what was supposed to happen), and then sadness for all the 'things' that had been lost. We did manage to remain grateful throughout this roller coaster of emotions that we still had everything important - the two of us had not been placed in any danger - and the stuff (Jon's camera and even his travel journal of the past 8 months) could be replaced or at least absorbed into our memories.

Despite the above list of challenges, we were surrounded by some positive experiences too - like the social scene we found at our school. We quickly bonded with a great group of fellow travelers over a cup of tea at school or a pisco sour at night on the dance floor. It seems we had more nights out in Cusco than any other city on our trip. We also had the pleasure of meeting up with our good friends Mackenzie and Bradley from Boulder who were preparing to hike the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu - how wonderful after eight months to see familiar faces who required no explanation of who we were or where we came from. We enjoyed a few trips outside of the city also, like our fantastic weekend excursion to several Inca ruins in the nearby Sacred Valley. After seeing Machu Picchu three years ago, we weren't sure how impressive these sites would be, but once again we were astounded by the incredible craft and level of detail the Incas used in their architecture.

Overall, after four weeks in Cusco, we were both very ready to bid farewell to the city that initially made us fall in love with South America. Hopefully this change of scenery will bring with it the renewal of energy we are both desperately craving.