Contact Information

I am back in the United States and can be reached on my American cell phone number.  

My email address is kdelguercio@mac.com

The Grand Finale

Machu Picchu. Even with all of the hype, and all of the publicity, and all of the work that it took to get there, I was overcome with wonder and delight when Machu Picchu and I were introduced on Friday morning, April 18th. The trek through the Sacred Valley of the Incas was obviously a bit of a production, and got a bit messy as I described in my last entry. I am so glad that I called the game when I did. As I was recovering from extreme nausea in a warm bed in Cusco, half of the rest of my group got so very sick on the trail. These folks were apparently getting up 10-15 times per night with stomach problems, could not bring themselves to eat any food, experienced extreme dehydration, and somehow traveled 15-25 kilometers per day. The poor guy with the worst of it actually had to ride a horse for most of the trip because he was so sick. I am lucky that I became ill on the first night, and not later in the trip when it would have been more difficult to get me to a hotel. The guides had neither walkie talkies nor satellite phones, and actually, not even a first aid kit. Not even funny.

Why did so many people get sick, you ask? I have a feeling that the cook and assistant guide lacked proper training in food safety practices on the trail. Think about it - there was cow manure and horse manure everywhere. The manure contaminates the stream water, which we then use for drinking and cooking. Natasha and I brought water purification tablets for our drinking water, but the guides did not purify any of the water that they used for cooking. When we drank tea, I do not think that the water was actually brought to a boil. When the guides washed dishes, they barely used any soap, and that water had definitely not been boiled. At one point, one of my fellow trekkers asked for a basin to use for washing out some clothes. To her horror, the same basin was later used for storing silverware. Absolutely disgusting.

I was quite satisfied with my decision to skip days two and three when I heard the horror stories on the night of day four. I took a nice train ride through the valley and met the group in Aguas Calientes, which is the small town at the base of Machu Picchu. Thankfully, Natasha was spared from stomach horror. She didn´t smell like roses, I´ll tell you that much, but I ushered her into the shower and she came out shiny and new. We had a lovely dinner with our new friends and prepared for an early morning hike up the mountain.

Over dinner, I started feeling it. What is that heaviness in my chest? I seriously cannot be getting sick again. Sure enough, breathing got hard overnight, and by wake-up time at 4:15AM, I was officially under upper respiratory attack. Shit. I refused to miss this morning hike. You do not take a bus up to the sacred city of the Inca King. That is ridiculous. I am not a freaking wuss. I will do this hike dammit! Natasha looked at me with such pity - you poor poor girl. Upon persuasion from Dr. Natasha and Mommy Kelly (the group Mom), I decided to start a course of Cipro. My immune system was obviously being pillaged - enough screwing around. With one soggy tissue in hand, I started to climb.  

I feel so badly for people who suffer from asthma, because feeling short of breath is so uncomfortable and also kind of scary. Remember folks that there is a lot less oxygen in the air to begin with - Machu Picchu is 7875 feet above sea level. I am so used to feeling able bodied and fit - able to keep up with anyone my age in an outdoor capacity - and so this hike was so frustrating. It was a super steep stair climb that lasted for an hour and fifteen minutes. (And by the way, actual stairs are much harder than the Stair Master.) It was a good thing that there was a beacon of light waiting for me at the top, both figuratively and literally. Not only was Machu Picchu up there, but the sunrise was up there too. I pushed on an on, and with the comic relief of a British kid named Simon, plus Dr. Natasha, plus I think I can I think I can, one thing led to another, and there is was. The sun peaked over the mountain, I turned the corner, and the most perfectly situated human heaven was right there. It is like the Incas climbed up every mountain in Peru and found the most perfectly beautiful place to live.

It is so mindblowing to think about the work that it must have taken to envision and then create such a place. All of the walls and windows and fountains and alleys of the city were made out of enormous granite rocks. Simple questions cross my mind...like how the heck did they carry those things around? They are enormous! How did they carve them to fit perfectly together, like the pieces of a puzzle? And when they were moving these huge rocks around...how did they make sure that nobody fell off the mountain? Because, the cliffs are that real.

Somehow the Incas figured out how to farm up there as well - they used terracing techniques to create all sorts of different microclimates and then grew various agricultural products. There were separate neighborhoods - a place where common people lived, a place where elite people lived, a place where the Inca king lived, a town square, and various religious spaces. The Incas were excellent astronomers, and their constructions often indicated their interest in and understanding of the cosmos. For example, the Temple of the Sun contains two windows that are perfectly aligned with the sun at the exact moments of the summer and winter solstices.  How did the Incas perform such precise measurements?  Trial and error?

There is something incredible about being in a place that showcases the very best of both artistic expression and brute strength.  A feeling of sheer wonder and amazement is accompanied by an appreciation for the broad spectrum of human talent.  Perhaps we feel this kind of wonder when standing in front of the Taj Mahal or within the Sistine Chapel.  However, there is something particularly striking about being in the city of Machu Picchu that adds another dimension to our wonder.  Not only are we seeing the very best of what human beings can create - we are also standing in the midst of the very best of what God can create.  

This forest, this scene, this moment was just a zany roll of the cosmic dice as if the Gothic builders had heaved the stone blocks and flying buttresses and gold leaf into the air and it had all come down as Chartres.  In fact, if there were a God, He would spend His tough days visiting the man-made cathedrals and mosques and temples, where people believed in Him and asked favors and prayed for victories over the other guys who called Him by other names.  And then He would come here into his green cathedral.  He would crack open a beer, walk around in His boxers, put His hands on His hips and mutter, "How about that" at the miracle of all this being thrown together out of the dust of the Big Bang.  He would shake His head at the wild stroke of luck.     

-Brian Alexander, Green Cathedrals:  A Wayward Traveler in the Rain Forest

What a wild stroke of luck.  Somehow, the jaw dropping beauty doesn't feel like an accident.  It feels like somebody made some really good decisions!  

Natasha and I enjoyed a splendidly pleasant afternoon talking around a shady picnic table with our other group-mates.  We had a long afternoon of waiting for our evening train, but passed the time by continuing to become close friends with Nicole from Sweden, who we had actually met in Valparaiso, Chile.  Fate took over and reunited us with her in Cusco, and we have been fast friends ever since.  Nicole left Sweden when she was sixteen to travel around Australia because she did not know what she wanted to concentrate in during high school.  She returned from her trip with a newfound interest in globalization, which she studied for the next three years.  The Swedish educational system considers this study of globalization to be her high school degree!  Now she is taking more time to travel before thinking about attending university.  She is incredibly inspiring because she is such an adept listener - to herself - and she carefully makes decisions about how to spend her time so that each minute of her life is as pleasing as possible.  

Our last day in Cusco was cozy as I recovered from my cold...a really fun impromptu movie night in the living room of our hostel was a highlight.  We obviously had learned a lesson or two from our previous overnight bus experience, and so made a very well-researched decision when deciding how to transport ourselves to our next destination.  We decided to spend our last few days in the dry, hot desert south of Lima.  The main attraction in the area is an archeological site called the Nazca Lines; a close second is the town of Huacachina, where you can ride four-wheel-drive vehicles over huge sand dunes.   The craziest part of the adventure always seems to be the bus ride:  our seats were comfortable and all, but seriously, this was the absolute windiest road I have ever been on.  We descended thousands of meters down the sides of mountains and made constant hairpin turns for hours on end.  Hours.  Natasha's rock solid immune system finally cracked when we got on the bus.  I almost broke bones when I stood up to make my way to the bathroom, and the bus literally threw me onto the lap of my sleeping neighbor.  Sheesh.  

By morning I felt like I had ridden the Alice in Wonderland teacups for the past 14 hours.  We got off the bus in Nazca and had to figure out how to get 30 kilometers away to the Nazca Lines observation tower, and then another few hundred kilometers beyond to our hotel by the sand dunes.  We braved a local bus, which was not that bad, but of course we missed our stop.  A taxi helped us backtrack.  We then climbed the three story observation tower, which was literally on the side of the road in the middle of the desert.  The Nazca Lines were pretty cool - giant drawings of animals, possibly constellations, etched into the desert floor - but definitely only worth it for a few minutes.  Then we sobered up and realized we were hot, sick, dirty and tired in the middle of nowhere, needing to hail down the next local bus heading north.  Seriously.  I am in disbelief about some of this stuff only two weeks later!

Natasha and I got to our hotel safely and had a relaxing final two days.  We ate an entire, enormous rotisserie chicken by ourselves.  We were loving the Columbian music blasting out of every window.  We had a blast on the sand dunes - whee!!!  Our driver took us on a one hour ride, up and down the dunes in an open top buggy, and then we got to sandboard down the sand a few times.  Great great fun.  After that, we had a very hungry four hour bus ride to Lima (hungry because we were completely out of cash), and then I boarded an easy redeye straight to LAX.  

That's it.  It's that simple.  Over?  Really?  I don't believe it.  

I don't know about this "over" business.  Nothing feels "over" to me.  I hope that's ok.  I still feel like I'm traveling.  My own city feels strange and changed.   My relationships have not stood still.  I have many many unanswered questions and I have no idea what is next.  

I am so lucky to have the resources that enable me to say "I have no idea what is next."  Since I am still on a quest, in every regard, I think that I am going to continue travel blogging.  I have a lot to discover, and writing helps me find my way.  

More reflections coming soon.  For now, I can only express my utmost gratitude for every angel who watched over me, and for every beautiful moment of glee that I shared with so many incredible strangers.  All of these people and moments feel like precious gifts, and they warm my heart with saudades.  Most importantly, I know who to thank for every single gift - myself.  

I am overcome with longing, and yet words cannot express my happiness and contentment.

Besos and beijos, Katie