Dream Come True

G'day, and hello from Sydney, Australia! Ok, so I've really only heard about two people use the phrase, "g'day," but it sounds good. Regardless, after a lifetime of dreaming about going "Down Under" to see the world as Crocodile Dundee saw it, I am finally living my dream, in Australia.

So far, all our travel has gone very smoothly, and we are headed to Katoomba and the Blue Mountains tonight, after dinner with a friend in Darlinghurst.

Upon arrival, Gia's friend, Nicole, met us at the airport and gave us the most amazing locals tour of North Sydney. We had breakfast at an amazing little beach-side restaurant called The Beach, and then went for a little known hike to the highest coastal point in N. Sydney, Bangalley Head.

After our hike, we headed down the coast for a tour of all the beaches north of Sydney, stopping in Manly to board a ferry and head to our hotel. The ferry ride wasn't much to talk about, until the last ten minutes of the ride where we had magnificent views of downtown Sydney, the iconic Opera House, and the Sydney Harbour Bridge.

In Sydney, we stayed at the Westin, in a historical room that was once part of the Sydney Post Office. The room was very nice, but we had so much to see in town that we spent very little time there. We had dinner in the hip area under the harbour bridge, called The Rocks, which is considered Old Sydney. Luck was not on our side, however, as we were told of hour long waits for seating at the places we really wanted to try. We settled for a couple pints and some pub fair, which turned out to be smoked salmon and a delicious burger, at the recommended hotel turned pub, The Orient. j

Afterward we took a stroll along the harbour and were rewarded with amazing views of a lit-up downtown skyline.

Day Two

Australians LOVE their coffee, which works out well for a coffee snob like me! A quick walk down almost any street produces multiple options to pick up a cup of joe and a bite to eat. The coffee is amazing, and the food is nothing short of a gourmet meal, even at breakfast and lunch. They sure do love their bacon here. This is no store bought, pre-packaged slices either. It's thick cut slabs of ham cooked just enough to produce a little brown sugar crust on the edges, but not to a crisp like we do in the U.S. Ok, enough on the bacon.

We decided to hit the beach and test out the crystalline ocean waters, with a possible surf lesson to suit. Upon arrival at Bondi Beach, the most famous in Sydney, I decided that the surf was too rough for a first time surf lesson. Seriously, the waves were well over 6 feet high. Instead, we played in the waves for a while and then took a beautiful coastal walk south to burn a few hours and a few hundred calories.

The walk took us from Bondi to the southernmost Sydney beach, Coogee, where we had a nice pizza lunch and a couple schooners of local brew while overlooking the clear blue waters.

The walk about took everything out of us and we crashed early once we reached the hotel.

Day Three

Early to bed and early to rise! It was nice to get out a bit earlier to see the city waking up. We found a good lead on a restaurant for breaky (breakfast) and headed out to explore the city. The place in question eluded us, and by the time we walked up and down the street a few times, we decided to check out another spot that had such a great smell coming from it, we commented on it the first time we passed it over.

The City Edge did not disappoint. Bacon, avocado, lettuce, tomato, and egg on freshly baked Turkish bread was exactly what the doctor ordered, and a long black (cup of black coffee) pepped me right up. The sign outside did not give off the impression of a restaurant, but the aroma coming out of the front door could not be ignored.

We topped the morning off with a bit of shopping and are now headed out for some savory pies (think pot-pies) and maybe an afternoon sail around the harbour.

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Cheers for now!

-Shannon

Reflections of the "Third World"

For the past year or so I've been following a page on Facebook called, Humans of New York. This page was created by Brandon Stanton, a photojournalist who shares the photographs and stories of the people of New York City. Brandon doesn't just go around photographing people in random scenarios, he also listens to their stories and shared them with the world. He dives deeper into the lives of everyone he meets and adds context to the photographs.

Recently Brandon has traveled to Iraq and Kenya, sharing the stories of those affected by ISIS (Islamic State of Iraq and Syria) as well as the stories of the layperson in Kenya. I've spent time in both places and have been deeply touched by the stories Brandon has shared. It's because of Brandon that I am writing today.

I want to start a series of posts that will not only keep you interested, but also spread awareness and understanding of how twisted Western societies view of these places is. My posts are of my own experience as well as those I traveled with.

I want you all to see that the world is not comprised with only what you see on television or in the news. It's filled with living, breathing, thinking, emotional people. Humans, just like you and I, are what fill the world. Just as you and I react in a certain way for certain reasons, so does the rest of humanity. We may have been brought up under different roofs, but the reality is that we all share this world and need to understand each other if we as a race are to ever find harmony amongst one another.

I did not find myself in a position in Iraq in which I could write from the view of the people, but I do feel that my short time in Africa gave me a cultural view that is not shared in mass media. I would like to share that with you.

My next few posts will cover my time in Tanzania and Kenya, Africa, circa 2013.

-Shannon

Post Peru Fog

Hello again! I wanted to start by thanking all of you for your support and thoughtful comments regarding my series of posts from Peru. I continue to hear from family and friends about how much they enjoyed the posts and photos. It has been very uplifting and encouraging. So thank you again for sticking with me. I hope I can continue to capture your interest, engage your minds, and spark a sense of adventure in all of you.

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]

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.

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.

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.

The view of Mt. Massive and Mt. Elbert from the Wheeler's trails

Fall bike ride on the east side of Leadville

Sunset from Fremont Pass near Leadville

Independence Pass, from the top of Monitor Rock

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..."

Farewell, from Peru

It's a brisk morning here in Cuzco, Peru and the emotions working overtime as my journey here is coming to an end. Today is my last full day in Peru.

Yesterday was a good closing to my time here. Trever and I walked around town, monkey'd around on an old school playground, and had lunch in the market. I shared a traditional Peruvian meal with my landlord Carlos, Trever, and three of Carlos' friends. We barbecued some beef, made some cucumber tomato salad, boiled some potatoes, and added a little wine to top it off. There were cilantro/garlic/oil and roasted pepper mixes as garnishments. We dined on the patio overlooking all of Cuzco. It was one of the best meals I've had in Peru and definitely one I'll never forget.

Trever showing off.

Trever, Carlos and the gang

I was blessed to follow this meal up with an interesting discussion about corruption (in the govt, school, home life, and your heart) with Scott and company at The Meeting Place cafe in San Blas. Scott and his family are missionaries. They operate The Meeting Place and donate 100% of the proceeds to a local project that benefits single mothers and their children (for more info: www.themeetingplacecusco.com). The cafe staff is volunteer based and they get people from all over the world. Scott holds open discussions every Sunday evening in the cafe (closed on Sundays), followed by some prayer and worship for those that wish to stay. This has been my cell group for the last couple weeks and I feel very blessed to have come across this family and to have been able to spend some time getting to know them and volunteering at the cafe.

Scott at The Meeting Place cafe

Afterward, Trever and I grabbed a pint of Guinness at the "World's Highest Irish Pub," talked about our group discussion, speaking in tounges, miracles, and many other topics. I have enjoyed getting to know Trever and developing our friendship. He has a bright future ahead of him and I have a hunch I'll be working with him in the future.

Tonight, I'll dine on the elusive Cuy (really not that elusive) as my last real meal, walk around the plaza at bit, and maybe take one of those annoying vendors up on a fifteen Sole massage, a bag of marijuana or cocaine, and maybe buy some of the souvenirs shipped over from China. Ok, maybe just the massage and cuy.

Cuzco is becoming quite the tourist destination. You can't really get to Machu Picchu without passing through Cuzco, so most of the MP tourists will stay a day or two in Cuzco, coming and going. This has led to every Tom, Dick, and Harry opening a tour guiding office, massage parlor, night club and restaurant in every historical area near the city center. The locals, as well as the long term travelers, have also figured out that many tourists are "recreational" marijuana users and others are coke heads. Neither are technically legal in Peru, but I'm told a blind eye is turned more often than not. The legal status of these two drugs doesn't keep street dealers from marketing it to you under the guise of some other offering (ex. Tattoos? Piercings? Weed?). After a while, you wither want to tell them to remember your face when you say, "No," or start asking questions about the product. "You got that Blueberry Yum Yum? That Sticky Icky Icky? Purple Kush? Blue Dream?"

Some Peruvians are all for more tourism and it's economical benefits, while others speak out against the economical, social, and environmental downsides to a booming tourism industry. Similar to Mt Kilimanjaro, the famous "Inca Trail" is a four or five day trek, flooded with camera toting tourists from all parts of the globe that leave candy wrappers and plastic water bottles strewn about the trail and in the ruins sites themselves. Machu Picchu is likened to the Disney World of Peru. Tour buses leave every ten to fifteen minutes from Aguas Calientes headed to see one of the Seven Wonders of the World. If you are an adventurous person, you've done your research and took the 10 km "backdoor" trek to Machu Picchu from Santa Teresa and the hydroelectric plant. As you come off this route and into Aguas Calientes, you can see the impact from tourism in full swing, passing mounds of water bottles that weren't thrown directly  into the trash. Peru, or at lease this area of Peru, doesn't have a plastic recylcing plant, so every water bottle purchased and tossed in the can, goes straight to the landfill, if not already swept away by the many flowing rivers and streams. Add in increased erosion, air pollution, drug presence, traffic and govt corruption, and you'll have yourself a melting pot of reasons to be against a growing international tourism industry.

Carlos has told me on many occasions that I should stay in Cuzco and open a guiding business. He says that as an educated, English speaking adventure guide, I have an advantage over the local guide companies. Mainly, I know how to treat customers, how to run a business properly, and I speak English fluently. A few Spanish classes and he says I can take over the market. I don't believe it's quite so simple. As a foreigner, there are many political and social hoops I would need to jump through to open a business. As I mentioned earlier, there are very corrupt people in the Peruvian government, and unfortunately, the process is indefinitely extended if you aren't willing to pay the piper to get your paperwork to the top of the pile. There are ex-patriots that have setup shop in Peru illegally, and have been operating for many years, but one day they too will have to pay the piper. My understanding is that the process is so overly complicated, it can take years to go through the system and become legal, assuming you don't flash the right person a few hundred Soles. Besides, I know one company with tenure that already has a lock on this market.

I love Peru. I love the people and all the smiles. I love the food and the rich history. I love how proud they are of their history, despite being a conquered nation for centuries. I love their traditions and celebrations, as wacky as some of them may seem. I love that the children still play outside and are content with playing with bottle caps, broken tricycles, and riding around on bikes with no tires. I love the Andes and the adventures they offer. I could pass on the biting gnats. I love the people I've met in my time here, the opportunity to guide many of them in an outdoor adventure, and to be a part of some of their fondest memories. I love that there is still a wild side to the country, something that is quickly diminishing in the United States. I love that I can walk to get anything I might need and that I know my food is natural and local. Oh, and the coffee. Can't forget the coffee!

On the Sun Gate Trail in Ollantaytambo

I've been sitting here in The Meeting Place cafe for the past four hours, clinging on to my last few moments in this place I've fallen in love with, and I'm sure Scott would love to have another table open up. I wish I had more time to say proper goodbyes to all my friends in Ollantaytambo and Urubamba. You guys (Sabrina, Analucia, Linda, Jose, Trever, Mino, Lao, Carmen, little Brittany, Inma, Jorge, big ol' fluffy Rita, Rider, Paul, The Fillipe's, Carlos, KB, Matt, Luciano, and Gato), you have made my trip truly epic and one of the best of my lives. I know most of you will never see this, but I hope I made as much of an impact in your lives as you have in mine.

Mino, Sabrina, and I

Lao, Brittany, Carmen and I

Linda Mistika!

So, as reluctant as I am to say this....

Farewell, from Peru!

-Shannon

The White City

Today I'm writing to you from Arequipa, Peru...a.k.a. The White City. Arequipa is approximately ten hours southwest of Cuzco, by bus and around two hours from the Pacific Ocean. It's the second largest city in Peru and....sorry, I was distracted by a woman on another rooftop doing some sort of weird stretching dance. I think she may have to use the restroom....

Where was I? Oh yes, Arequipa. This is my second visit to the White City. My first visit was with Shahana, and I loved it so much, I talked my new roommate, Trever into coming down with me for a couple days. But, lets be honest, I really came back for the food!

Trever and I had an interesting bus ride from Cuzco the night before last. At 2am, our bus broke down in the middle of nowhere, Peru. Our drivers didn't say a word for the first three hours, and eventually, three quarters of the bus (about all the Peruvians) disembarked from the vehicle and disappeared into the night. We were then told that there was a problem with the airbag system, and that was about it. Once the sun came up, we started moving again and stopped in the next small town for some food and water. We then had another seven hour bus ride without another stop to make it to Arequipa. All-in-all, our ten our trip turned into an eighteen hour trip and needless to say, I started out my trip a little frustrated.

After some negotiations with the counter clerk, we set out for the Plaza de Armas in the city center, in search of food, hydration, and a place to drop our packs. We found a nice little dormitory style hostel for twenty soles (approximately six USD) and headed off for one of Shahana and I's favorite restaurants, La Nueva Palomino. I was looking forward to this meal so much that, regardless of the dehydration, my mouth was literally watering. My heart sank when we pulled up front and the doors were locked down tight. Our driver, Raul, offered up another option so we headed that way, only to find more problems at the front gate. Finally, we settled on coming back to city center and finding the nearest place that offered anything even remotely resembling food.

After a cheese pizza dinner with Che, we headed out to explore the city center and find some queso helado. This stuff is some of the most amazing ice cream I have ever tasted. Think, horchata flavored ice cream. For those that are unfamiliar with the Mexican drink, horchata, think cinnamon flavored rice milk (I think that's what it is anyway). Anyhow, if you see it in the ice cream section, get it. You probably won't regret the decision.

We finished off our evening with a couple horrible happy hour drinks (my chilcano was one of the worst things I've ever tasted) and some pool at an empty night club. The club scene doesn't really start until around midnight, and finishes up around five am.

Today, I am hoping to visit a few sights, eat some great food (assuming they are open), and then hop back on a bus for another (hopefully) ten hour bus ride back to Cuzco where we'll meet some new Colorado friends for a drink and fun times.

Sorry for the short update, but the day is short and there is a lot to see. Besides, Trever is hovering like he is ready to get moving. Thanks for reading and I'll write back soon.

Shannon

Two Weeks In Peru

The last few weeks has been a whirlwind of new adventures, foods, and friends, as well as some much needed quality time spent with my fiance. Shahana and I said our "see you later's" this morning as she boarded her flight to the U.S. and now I'm sitting here enjoying a black coffee and tunes from a marching band on what is likely to be my last day off until I head home in August.

They say that Peru has 366 festivals and celebrations each year. One for every day and another on standby, just in case. While this may be the case, I hated that in our two and a half weeks of travel, Shahana wasn't really able to experience a true Peruvian festival. We heard the fireworks in Arequipa and Cuzco. We sped past funerals in the Sacred Valley (also a festival of sorts). But, as luck would have it, no sooner than she boarded the plane, did I find myself smack dab in the middle of a large religious celebration stretching from the beautiful Plaza de Armas to the small and quaint, Plaza San Blas.

It's always difficult to understand why they are celebrating, due to the varying traditions formed in each small area of Peru, but each one is similar in a few ways. There's ALWAYS a marching band! Good or bad, every celebration, festival, wedding, and funeral I have witnessed has included a small marching band. Some are so terrible they will give you nightmares, and those always seem  to be the ones that play 24/7, for several days at a time. Most times there are dancers. Their elaborate and colorful costumes are always site to see. Some dress in the traditional mountain garb with their variety of reds, yellows, and blues. Some are almost head to toe in white and gold. Many wear finely painted masks with long noses and carry jugs of booze (real or otherwise), and some wear pantyhose on their heads and carry whips.

They are sorted into groups based off of their particular choreographed dances, all of which tell a story from their past. Some of being dominated by the Spanish, others of fighting back, and others of religious events that led to the traditions they are celebrating. Lastly, there almost always seems to be alcohol . Beer and chi cha are sold in the streets and fields by old Quechua women and girls young enough to be in kindergarten. In any event, Peruvians love to party.

I was sad that Shahana didn't get to experience this for herself, but we had many other wonderful experiences during her stay and we made a many new friends. She actually got to experience guiding adventure travel trips firsthand as she tagged along on several of my tours. I was blessed to have her around, as in several instances, I was up the creek without a paddle and she helped me through them as my linguist and adviser. She is a natural people person and it showed on every tour. Her positive outlook and beautiful smile were a perfect addition to our groups and I know she enjoyed our clients just as much as they did her.

Our travels took us to several ruins sites and remote villages including Victos, Huancancalle, and of course, Machu Picchu. We cycled around 250 kilometers (150 miles) of "mostly" downhill, hiked around 20 miles on trail and many more on the streets in Aguas Calientes, Ollantaytambo, Arequipa, and Cuzco. We ate, a lot! We took some risks, went out of our comfort zones,  tried new things, and for the most part, escaped unscathed. We battled ridiculous heights, crazy drivers, biting vampire gnats, sanity-testing bug bites, smelly-armpit-in-your-face bus rides, stomach aches, horrible gas, and diarrhea. We relaxed in hot springs, zip-lined hundreds of feet above raging rivers, stepped from rung to rung across railroad bridges, trekked through the hot jungle, and sat in on a children's English class at the base of a 6000 meter volcano.

Although our time was short, we covered a lot of ground and I doubt we can find one regret aside from not planning a longer visit. There are so many places we were not able to see, so much culture we were not able to experience, and so much food we were unable to eat.

My time in Peru is quickly coming to an end and even though I'll be headed back to Colorado next month, I'll be leaving a piece of me in Peru. The experiences I've encountered will always have a special place in my heart and the friendships I've formed during my stay are sure to be lifelong. I'm already planning to see several of my new friends this Fall and hoping to help others gain entry for a visit in the near future. I can't (or don't want to) think of this visit to Peru being the last of it's kind, even if I simply return as a tourist to reconnect and see new parts of the country. The Peruvian Andes are unlike any other range I have ever had the pleasure of visiting and I know they'll come calling not long after my trip ends.

I'm going to bring this report to an end, but I hope to have more time to write about our adventures in the near future. For now, there's just too much to write about.  Hopefully I'll have a few days toward the end of my trip to really put in the time on this blog I had hoped from the beginning of this journey. Until then, God bless and safe travels.

-Shannon

"The mountains are calling, and I must go." -John Muir

New Views and Adventures

I want to say Happy Father's Day to my father, step-father, brothers and all the other amazing fathers out there today. Thank you for being there and for all you do for our families. Thank you to my father, Clarence, and step-father, Mike for helping to make me the man I am today. I love you both very much.

Back to Peru....

Time feels like it's flying by. I haven't had a ton of time to explore since I got here. Long workdays have left me all tuckered out by 5pm almost everyday. A couple days ago I went to look for some dinner (hoping to find Cuy - guinea pig) and wandered up the side streets of Ollantaytambo. They are more like alleys, actually. Not enough to fit a car, but a work trike will fit fine, and it seems that's how they operate back there.

The alleys were filled with restaurants, mini-marts, spas, massage parlors, homes, internet cafes, and bars. They are all cobblestone with a stone drainage ditch built in on one side. Both sides have ten foot stone walls adorned at the top with flowers, cacti, or broken glass (keeps intruders out). Many of these walls have foundations from the Inca era, which can be recognized by the large, perfectly cut stones that fit together without any mortar.

The noise mentioned from my last post is non-existent even one block back. I almost cried as I stood in silence, surrounded by the old world-like setting, watching children playfully swing rope whips at the men walking by (this seems to stem from the very carefully choreographed dances the locals perform at every festival and links back to the Spanish invasion of Peru). Time seemed to stop as I explored deeper and deeper into the town, taking in the aroma from the flowers and plants that lines the street.

Soon enough, I passed two men carrying a 40 liter tub down the road filled with roasted Cuy. Unfortunately, it was not for me. Cuy used to be solely a celebratory meal, but in recent years it's become more common in Peruvian restaurants, especially more high end places. But it's still the meal for celebrations, and that day happened to be Mother's Day. I know. I know. I thought it was a Hallmark holiday too. But it's celebrated a bit different here.

Mother's Day in Peru is a three day celebration. They don't simply take ma' out for dinner, give her a phone call, or send a card. They have concerts, carnivals, parades,  special food (hence the Cuy), and gift giveaways for the mothers. Most businesses close down for the holiday. Even our combi driver was very hesitant to work that day. Like I mentioned in my last post, Peruvians have a lot of love for their family. I personally loved the affection and gratitude they showed toward their mothers and feel that Westerners could do a much better job at showing the same gratitude and affection. I am very blessed to have a very special mother and three awesome grandmothers to share my life with.

So I couldn't find any Cuy for myself, and my fallback restaurants were closed as well, so I settled for dinner at the hotel restaurant. I was surprised by a 7 x 5" hunk of the lasagna special that was more than one could hope for after a long day on the bike. Although they don't have access to ricotta cheese, the flavor and consistency were not lacking and would please the palate of any lasagna connoisseur I know (mainly my brothers and sisters). We were also surprised with a creamed artichoke and green olive spread on top of homemade bread that fantastically complimented the rest of the meal.

Mino, the chef, is a transplant from Italy and Sabrina, his partner and the baker, is from Lima. The bakery slash pizzeria compliment each other very well and I tend to spend most of my earnings here, not just for the food, but for the great company everyone in the restaurant and at the hotel reception offers. Now, every Tom, Dick, and Jose in Ollantaytambo has a wood fired pizza oven, but if I can choose between some guy from Peru making me a pizza, and a guy from Italy making me a pizza, guess which one I'm going to choose. Besides that, everyone knows I love my lasagna, and they seem to be the only offering in town.

The great thing about having friends that run a restaurant is getting help with my Spanish. Currently my Spanish is, oh, how would you say it......horrible. Not as bad as many of the tourists who great you with, "buenos nachos," but much worse than it should be as a guide in South America. I've heard that ordering food in the native tongue is one of the best ways to improve your speech and learn the language. Peruvians have their own dialect of Spanish and many have started using Quechua as their conversational language again. The Quechuas were the common people during the Inca era. The Incas were the royalty and the Quechuas were the workers. During Spanish rule, the Quechua language was all but forbidden and replaced by the native tongue of the new rulers.Those that spoke it were said to be the lowest of the low and all but the mountain people and the elders of the time deemed it a forgotten language. I don't speak any Quechua, yet, but I am learning how to speak proper Peruvian Spanish instead of sounding like any other tourist that took two years of Spanish in high school or college.

The best part of learning a little of the native language is being able to interact with the local children. I'm still working on this, but the kids here love to play regardless of any language barrier. A friendly smile and the start of a game of peek-a-boo is all that's needed to win them over. The children here love to play outside, which is a trait I admire more than most these days. Whether they are playing with bottle caps, tops, rocks, a soccer ball (fotbol), each other, or even a beat up old bicycle without pedals or tires, they are having the time of their lives. I recently watched a boy, about 5 years old, push himself around a concrete soccer field on said bike like it was brand new on Christmas day. He was enjoying himself in a way that you rarely see children do in the U.S. these days. He had no idea that the bike was not functioning like it was meant to, and show no signs of stopping anytime soon. In fact, there were three other children waiting in line to take their turn on what seemed like it could have been a Disneyland roller coaster he had just waited four hours in line to ride.

If you cannot tell, I am enjoying my time in Peru, immensely. I haven't even talked about all the mountain biking, trekking, or all the spectacular views I've encountered along the way. This will come soon, but for now I'll leave you with a few photos from my most recent adventure, a 37 mile trek to Choquequirao, a less traveled Inca city than Machu Picchu.

My mother also tells me I have a silver-haired following, so I want to give a shout out to them as well. Thank you very much for reading and I hope I can continue to provide worthwhile material that will keep you waiting in anticipation for the next release.

Until then, thanks for reading and God bless.

-Shannon

View of the high peaks and glaciers on the Choque trail.

The bucket we had to ride across the river to get to Choque. 

My clients at the last campsite before the ruins.

Choquequirao

View of one campsite.