I've probably been asked a hundred times now, "How does it feel to be back?" My initial reaction was that there were, "a lot of white people." Even though most of the tourists I dealt with were Caucasian, most of my day was spent with Peruvians or travelers from a less pale descent.
When I returned to the States, I immediately left to see the family in KC, spent a few days in Denver, and eventually made my way back to Leadville to start the process of becoming a valuable member of society again. This meant grocery shopping, figuring out school schedule, finding a job,etc. My first thought upon walking into the local Safeway was, "Man, there are so many options. How am I ever going to know which is good for me?" In Peru, you don't wonder what's in the food at the market. You always know what you are getting is fresh.
The Peruvian government is anti-Monsanto and anti-GMOs. Your produce still has the dirt on it from the gardens. Your grains and spices are portioned by scooping them out of a three hundred pound bag. The meat is so fresh, you can even buy the head if you want it. And if you don't want the fat, tell the butcher to take it off. You can buy coffee beans from the farmers. You know your food is fresh and healthy for you when you are buying from the market or from right off the tree. [WARNING: Bloody Photo Ahead]
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| Bull horn, anyone? |
Looking around, everything at Safeway was packaged, processed, and overflowing with fillers. You never really know what you are eating. Each item has at least ten different options to choose form. I spent two hours on my phone researching what is certified as "organic" (later finding out "certified organic" is not as organic as it sounds),or at the very least, known to be GMO free. After finding a mere 15 items or less, my total came to $87 and my first born child's left arm. I could have eaten for a month on that amount in Peru.
The only option you have in Peru, is the option to buy from someone else. In fact, the options are so limited, that I frequently went without whatever I was looking for. We shopped at open markets 99% of the time. Mega markets (first world style grocery stores) were really only good for western foods and fresh(er) milk. Our markets most closely resembled a farmer's market on steroids (yes, I get the irony in that comment). Hundreds of vendors selling fresh meats, produce, coffee, chocolate, fresh squeezed juices, textiles, clothing, breakfast, lunch, dinner and other things you could never image being edible.
Trever and I ate at the market nearly every day. Fried egg or sliced avocado on fresh pan (pronounced, paah-n, it's an airy, circular style flat bread) was our morning ritual. While in Cuzco, a late lunch and or diner usually consisted of arroz con huevo (white rice, cucumber/tomato salad, fried potatoes, and a fried egg on top), or arroz cubana (the same, plus sliced and fried banana). Fresh pastries and empanadas at Dumbo's bakery were frequently on the menu as well. Soft serve ice cream helped with the intense heat from the sun at 11,000 ft.
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| Arroz con Huevo |
Going to the market everyday got me out in the mix with society. Thousands of tourists flooded the small shops, restaurants, and textile markets on the main plazas. Very few ventured off the main path to get to the large local markets, and even fewer to the side streets where even smaller batch produce was bought and sold by the locals. Here, I was forced to use the very little Spanish I knew, just to get by. The local merchants spoke Spanish or Quechua, and nothing else. Many times I had to rely on Trever to be my translator, but I liked being away from the touristy areas. There wasn't the constant harassment you got in the plazas, just because you are white, and they think you are a tourist with money to spend on massages, city tours, fancy dinners, crappy food, trinkets from China, tattoos, weed and cocaine. You got to see the laymen and women of Peru when you traveled outside the plaza. You don't get that in the States.
I've found myself really missing guiding. The relationships and connections I established with new people each day, even if only temporary, were some of the greatest experiences of my life. Our world is so vast and so small at the same time, it's like its own oxymoron. I met many people from Colorado, some from Missouri (that lived and worked right next door to me), and others that know people I know through similar connections. I heard stories of survival, success, failure, heartache, and comeback. I made friends from all over the globe and have been offered a place to stay nearly anywhere I would want to go. I was offered jobs, envied for my guiding job, and praised for my decision to seek out a better life. I taught new skills, refined old skills, helped with illnesses, fear, and even dealt with a couple broken bones.
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| On a long, punishing ride with new friends. |
I miss meeting new people daily, and even though it was required interaction as a guide, I fell in love with connecting to new people. I never felt like it was forced. Back in Leadville, it's a new college semester, and most of my classes start up on Monday. I'm looking forward to reconnecting with old friends and creating new relationships. I used to think of myself as anti-social, but I learned that it was really just anxiety keeping me from meeting new people. When you are forced to speak with people you know nothing about, you have to quickly get past the anxiety in order to learn everything you can about them in a very short period of time. Right now, I would settle for meeting someone new every couple days, but the pace of building relationships in a social setting is much slower than that of a guiding situation. It takes longer to build up a relationship and establish the type of trust someone is putting in you to guide them down a steep mountainside in a foreign land. In a social setting, you generally aren't sharing any sort of experience with the other party that allows you to form a memorable or trusting connection. So I'm struggling a little bit. I could make it a goal, but I'm really bad at short-term goals.
I also miss how friendly everyone is in the small towns of Peru. So willing to bring you into their homes and make you part of the family, without knowing you for more than a minute. Living in the small town of Leadville, Cololrado helps with this a lot, but it's a different feeling in small town Peru. There's no hesitation. It's automatic. No one is skeptical or wonders about ulterior motives. It's like there's a party and you are invited, regardless of who you are. This is definitely missed when walking the streets of Denver. There's so much coming an going, you get lost in the commotion and I often have the feeling that even though there are thousands around me, no one sees me. It's easy to get caught up in the flow of things, get tunnel vision, and forget to take the time to look up, and see who, or what, is staring right at you.
So, how does it feel to be back in the United States? It's bittersweet. Ambivalent, maybe? It's hard to not be happy when you live in one of the most beautiful places on earth. I'm closer to friends and loved ones, but at the same time, I have a great sadness to be so far away from the friends and family I made in Ollantaytambo. I'm glad to have my craft beers back, but I miss the simple, cheap foods of the community markets, where every item is fresh and every price is negotiable. Everyday, I gave people a unique, once-in-a-lifetime experience, and I'm finding it hard to recreate how great that feels.
Doors are opening though. I have good prospects for guiding and instructing in the near future. I'm finding new trails to ride and have even bagged a couple 14ers. Life is good in Leadville.
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| The view of Mt. Massive and Mt. Elbert from the Wheeler's trails |
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| Fall bike ride on the east side of Leadville |
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| Sunset from Fremont Pass near Leadville |
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| Independence Pass, from the top of Monitor Rock |
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| The summit of Mt. Elbert |
As I sit here looking out the window on this cold Colorado day, the fog is lifting on the snow peaked mountains, and weighing heavy in my thoughts are the hot, winter days in the Peruvian Andes, and heavy in my heart, are the infectious smiles of the friends I made.
-Shannon
Stephen Chbosky - "I am both happy and sad at the same time, and I'm still trying to figure out how that could be."
The Narrator, Fight Club - "Tyler, you are by far the most interesting single-serving friend I've ever met..."
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