Family isn't always blood. It's the people in your life who want want you in theirs; the ones who accept you for who you are. The ones who would do anything to see you smile and who love you no matter what. – Author Unknown
Tuesday, March 12, 2013 (DAYS 373 - 383)
Awake at 9:30am, I want to enjoy my last moments in Cusco with my new friend Breean from Los Angeles even though she’s really from Wisconsin, but I suppose I would deny the shame of growing up in the badger state as well. Our day begins with a slow walk around the mercado enjoying the cool morning air as the local women continue to put out their fruits and vegetables on colorful pieces of clothing hoping to entice potential buyers. As we make our way to the Plaza de Armas we find a quaint coffee shop and sit and enjoy a coca tea with our finger puppets. Yes, although we may be children of the 80s we are in fact still kids at heart. Even though the flight isn’t until 3pm, we have the luxury of lingering over our conversation of future plans for Leonard, Ian, and Ward to share in global adventures.
Awake at 9:30am, I want to enjoy my last moments in Cusco with my new friend Breean from Los Angeles even though she’s really from Wisconsin, but I suppose I would deny the shame of growing up in the badger state as well. Our day begins with a slow walk around the mercado enjoying the cool morning air as the local women continue to put out their fruits and vegetables on colorful pieces of clothing hoping to entice potential buyers. As we make our way to the Plaza de Armas we find a quaint coffee shop and sit and enjoy a coca tea with our finger puppets. Yes, although we may be children of the 80s we are in fact still kids at heart. Even though the flight isn’t until 3pm, we have the luxury of lingering over our conversation of future plans for Leonard, Ian, and Ward to share in global adventures.
Returning to Lima for just a few short days we have a chance to meet some great Aussies and end up staying up all night in intense discussion. The next afternoon we are northern bound for the small beach town of Mancora, Peru where I hope to meet up with Kelvin and ML, two hilarious Aussies that spent 3 weeks with us at our hostel in Nicaragua. As we arrive in the morning and am being shown to our dorm I fail to notice an entire body covered by a sheet, but hear a familiar voice yell out, “not another Asian.” Already I know it’s Kelvin and I explode with laughter as he throws off his sheet as though he is a superhero–a rather grotesque superhero with hobo-type features, but still you get the picture. We give each other a big hug and head down by the pool to grab some breakfast.
The next few days we gather another wonderful group, besides Kelvin and Char there is Nico, a boisterous Peruvian that is full of energy and was the first to encourage a morning swim in the ocean. Karleen was our sarcastic Belgian that has an infectious laugh just like Char so when you got them both going you couldn’t help but join in, even when you had no idea what was so humorous. The next four days passed too quickly and were filled with late night conversations about what it was that inspired us to travel. I think that Nico’s story stood out the most. He told us that growing up in Cusco he worked for a tour guide for several years and on one particular tour he had an elderly couple from England in his group. Well at one point the gentleman just broke down and began sobbing. Unsure what to do, Nico asked his wife if he should get some medical help. She told him that he would be fine, but that he needed someone to talk with and she felt that it should be him. Surprised by this response Nico went over and sat next to the elderly man and asked him if he was alright and if he needed any help. The man refused and after he was able to control himself, he told Nico that he felt as though he had wasted his life. He went on by saying that as he looks around and sees Nico and so many other young people explore and traveling, experiencing life. It was a very powerful story. Because I know that for many of us we do not want to have the regret of waking up at 50 or 60 or 70 years old and feel that we had this great opportunity in our life to do something incredible and we were too afraid to act upon it.
As the night wore on to dawn, we talked about what life skills can be incorporated to a professional career. The list that we came up with was one that I feel many companies vie for. As backpackers, especially those of us that travel solo, we are constantly practicing our problem solving skills. I mean, how many people do you know could be thrown alone in a city where the nearest person they know is thousands of miles away, and their challenges are everything from language and cultural barriers, navigation issues, currency calculations, living on a strict financial budget, gaining stronger social and communicative skills, self confidence, global networking like you wouldn’t believe, and the list continues. So while many family and friends back home think that this is just about one particular lifestyle this is a lifestyle that challenges you beyond anything you can imagine when you experience first hand. It makes you aware of social, political, and environmental issues because you have looked in to the eyes of the people and shared meals with them, listened to them, and helped to break down barriers that separate us through compassion and understanding. It was certainly one of those nights that I will never forget.
The following evening it was the hardest part for any backpacker–the time to say goodbye to new and old friends. Even as our overnight bus was not leaving until 9:30pm you could sense a slight depression in the air as not only Char and I were leaving but taking Karleen with us as well to Montanita, Ecuador. Debating taking a sleeping pill, I decided to risk it since I was traveling with the two girls and had my backpack securely fastened around me. At exactly midnight we reached the border of Ecuador and in my comatose haze I successfully exited Peru and entered Ecuador.
Six and a half hours later we reached the bus terminal at Guayaquil and had to wait almost 3-hours for our bus to Montanita. The entire time we were waiting I felt completely exhausted and just layed with my head on the table in the food court. Several times Karleen and Char asked why I was so tired and I had no idea. It never occurred to me that I was sick. I remembered later that the day we left Mancora, Miguel another hilarious new friend from NYC but grew up in the Dominican Republic was bed ridden. We all assumed it was bad shellfish that he ate. Just before 1pm we arrived in Montanita, and this was certainly one of the most difficult bus journeys I’ve ever experienced. For three solid hours I just kept telling myself, “don’t throw up, don’t throw up.” As soon we stopped on this dirt road what I was guessing was the center of town I stumbled to the sidewalk and threw up. Thankfully the girls were there to accommodate me and scouted a few places to stay, and we decided on splitting a triple bed hotel room. Entering the room it reminded me of something that would be condemned on East Colfax, but since there was a toilet I didn’t care. Since this was one of the only triple rooms available, I told the girls that they should share the double bed and I would take the single since I doubt either of them wanted to be anywhere near me in my state. Leaving me to my pain curled up in the fetal position between dashing trips to the toilet, the girls set out to explore the small beach town. After only a few hours they returned looking slightly green as well. For the next three days it looked like a horror movie had overtaken our bathroom. Spewing from both ends, often fighting to get in the small bathroom, it is a fine example of the ugly side of travel. Later, we think it was a stomach bug that was passed from Miguel. All in all after we had seen each other in such an awful state we still talk about it and laugh as it’s just one of the realistic sides of travel in general. I was quite thankful that this was the first time in over a year that I was even remotely sick for all of the time spent in third world countries.
Six and a half hours later we reached the bus terminal at Guayaquil and had to wait almost 3-hours for our bus to Montanita. The entire time we were waiting I felt completely exhausted and just layed with my head on the table in the food court. Several times Karleen and Char asked why I was so tired and I had no idea. It never occurred to me that I was sick. I remembered later that the day we left Mancora, Miguel another hilarious new friend from NYC but grew up in the Dominican Republic was bed ridden. We all assumed it was bad shellfish that he ate. Just before 1pm we arrived in Montanita, and this was certainly one of the most difficult bus journeys I’ve ever experienced. For three solid hours I just kept telling myself, “don’t throw up, don’t throw up.” As soon we stopped on this dirt road what I was guessing was the center of town I stumbled to the sidewalk and threw up. Thankfully the girls were there to accommodate me and scouted a few places to stay, and we decided on splitting a triple bed hotel room. Entering the room it reminded me of something that would be condemned on East Colfax, but since there was a toilet I didn’t care. Since this was one of the only triple rooms available, I told the girls that they should share the double bed and I would take the single since I doubt either of them wanted to be anywhere near me in my state. Leaving me to my pain curled up in the fetal position between dashing trips to the toilet, the girls set out to explore the small beach town. After only a few hours they returned looking slightly green as well. For the next three days it looked like a horror movie had overtaken our bathroom. Spewing from both ends, often fighting to get in the small bathroom, it is a fine example of the ugly side of travel. Later, we think it was a stomach bug that was passed from Miguel. All in all after we had seen each other in such an awful state we still talk about it and laugh as it’s just one of the realistic sides of travel in general. I was quite thankful that this was the first time in over a year that I was even remotely sick for all of the time spent in third world countries.
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