Peru - Part II (inca trail)

Day 1: Km 82 (9,000 ft) to Wayllabamba (9,840 ft), via Llaqtapata (8,692 ft)
We were picked up at the hotel by a young Peruvian who spoke incomprehensible English. He turned out to be one of the assistant guides, but I still don't know his name because I could never really understand what he said. The 4 hour bus ride to the start of the trail included what seemed like 15 pit stops picking up trekkers, porters and other random locals, as well as several pit stops on the way for reasons unclear.

We drove to Km 82 where we would starting hiking, though the first day's trail was not yet the real Inca Trail. Our first scenic rest stop was one of the only two places on this side of Peru where Chicha (a 'sacred offering to Pacha Mama' aka 'really strong beer') was available. All the guides, including ours, make a pit stop here.

Every day the porters set-up a lunch tent, in which they served hot tea and snacks and then a hot lunch. Then they take everything down and run ahead of us to the campsites to set-up tents. While waiting for lunch, our trekking group instantly bonded. We were 5 Californians, 1 Brit and 1 Dutch.

We passed through Llaqtapacta, the first of many ruins. This night's campsite was probably one of the most beautiful, plus we were befriended by a little girl named Gloria - who sold water and beer. She was dubbed 'beer girl' by the guys of course. At this point, everyone was feeling good, still relatively clean, and everything was hunky dory. I slept well on the first night (and as it turns out the only night of good sleep). We had no idea what we'd gotten ourselves into.

Day 2: Pacaymayu (11,480 ft), via Warmiwanusca (13,776 ft)
This day was brutal. We had to climb just under 4,000 ft (from 9,840 ft to 13,776 ft), and then come back down. Most of the group was fast and was up farther ahead. During the ascent, I kept trying to think of the Swahili words for "slowly slowly", that the Tanzanian porters kept repeating to us on Kili, but could not for the life of me remember what they were (it's "polepole"). Maybe I jinxed myself because I climbed too fast and got nauseous. I slowed down so that I could make it to the top, but game is over once nausea sets in.

The minute we reached camp, I dove into the tent to rest. Over the next few hours, I felt progressively worse and worse, until I started to panic with thoughts about how I would get off this god forsaken mountain. ("What if I don't make it to Machu Picchu, how the hell am I going to get down??" "I can't not make it to Machu Picchu!") I was familiar with the nausea, but not the fever chills, faintness, numbing sensation in my fingers and toes, and finally insomnia.

I'd been drinking pretty concentrated coca tea, and was convinced this was making me high and not able to sleep (never mind the more logical explanation that it was the altitude). But I mean, coca tea gives you energy and opens up your blood vessels so not so far from 'high' right?

For about 5 hours, I repeatedly cycled through these thoughts - a.) don't freak out b.) pray to Pacha Mama ("mother earth") to help me feel better c.) contingency plans for if I didn't get better d.) I have to pee (again). Finally, after forcing down some dinner, I finally fell asleep - oh delicious sleep!

Day 3: WinayWayna (8,692 ft), via Runkuraqay (12,470 ft), Sayacmarca (11,472 ft) and Puyupatamarca (11,930 ft)
Thanks to Pacha Mamma almighty! Even though I got up to pee about 500 times throughout the night, the 12 hours of sleep at least cured me. And lucky for that because we hiked ~ 10 hours this day. Armed with cake for breakfast (yup the porters baked a cake at 11,000 ft elevation with no 'oven'), we started out on a long day of more uphill ("but not as hard as the second day" says the guide) and Incan ruins. We were grungy but in good moods, since everything was easy compared to the previous day. It was dusk and rainy by the time we got to camp, and there was an hour line for the hot showers. Another day of dirty wouldn't kill us. Camp was gross. There was a concrete structure within which were bathrooms, a dining mess (each trekking group to a table), and a water and beer store that sold small bottles of water for 5 soles (more than triple the price!) each (no more free boiled water from the porters). We celebrated making it this far with beers and popcorn.

Day 4: Machu Picchu (7,872 ft.), via Intipunku
We woke up at 4 a.m. to get ready for the last two hours of trekking to Machu Picchu. It was confusion and mayhem in the mess hall, with lines for the (now) smelly bathroom and hikers and porters milling about. It was a rat race (literally, people were sprinting), to the checkpoint (gate where they check passports and tickets) and then to Intipunku ("Sun Gate" and official entrance and first vantage point to the Machu Picchu area). At the checkpoint, we had to wait in the rain for like 30 minutes until the gate opened at 6 a.m., then the gate officials (obviously relishing this power and taking their sweet time) were 7 minutes late. argh. It was all worth it (of course), Machu Picchu is other-worldly (like literally, it looks like aliens just plopped a city of stones down into this valley in the mountains). According to our guide for Machu Picchu, who used to be a trekking guide and had counted the number of steps climbed, we had climbed in total 5,000 steps along the Inca Trail!

And, because we didn't get enough of the steps, we decided to climb Wayna Picchu mountain (the mountain that overlooks Machu Picchu city) to get an aerial view of the city that supposedly looks like a condor (symbol of the Upper World or Heavens). That day I'd eaten a pancake for breakfast at 4 a.m., 2 Luna bars, lima bean nuts, and trail mix, plus I hadn't slept a wink the night before (that pesky insomnia again). My energy was spent, but somehow I made it to the top (again). Oh, I could kinda see the condor, if you tilt your head 180 degrees and squint.

Peru - Part I (yoga retreat)

"Life
Heath
Happiness
Open Paths
Health in the Body, Peace in the Spirit, Love in the Heart
It is this that we wish, for ourselves, for mother earth, and for our brothers and sisters
So be it"

It never ends
Some higher being must be trying to teach me a lesson in the art of zen. Rewind to a week before I was to leave for Peru. I find out our building is to be exterminated for bed bugs - REALLY, it´s my worst nightmare come true. I had to launder or dry clean my entire wardrobe - which is no small feat, clear out closets, drawers & bookshelves & pack everything up, push all furniture into the center of the room (technically 16 inches from the wall), and oh yeah, pack for my trip. I packed and cleaned down to the 11th hour, simultaneously shoving clothing into bags (screw compliance, I had no time!), packing up camping gear, and packing stuff from bookshelves to boxes. The best part is that my parents are coming for thanksgiving - we´ll be hanging out amidst garbage bags of clothes and pencil-sized holes in every 6 inches of wall. I do my last load of laundry the morning of my flight, absentmindedly shoving a bunch of washed clothing into my daypack. I think "Just in case the airline loses my bags again." Then, "But that can´t happen two trips in a row, right??" Wrong. It can, and did. And in Peru, it takes them SEVEN days to get the bags back to you. Six of those days, the bag was already in Lima and just sitting there. They never bothered to call me or to put it on a flight to Cuzco, even though there are 13 flights a day from Lima to Cuzco. Then, they couldn´t find the retreat center (which is no big surprise because it was secluded in some random tiny village), but rather than call me, they decide to return the bag back to Lima?! Luckily, Carlos (right-hand man of yoga retreat owner) intercepted and talked them into giving him the bag, and he delivered to the retreat center.

The retreat center
Is an oasis hidden in a small hamlet called Harim - just past Calca - in the Sacred Valley. We sleep in teepees surrounded by a lush garden of cactus, flora, vegetables, and against a backdrop of a waterfall and the Andes mountains. Everyday, a bell in the morning calls for us to get fruit and tea prior to yoga. Another bell rings the start of a two-hour yoga session in the ´temple´ - a circular structure with windows all around and a stained glass skylight. After class, bell again summons us to a hearty vegetarian brunch (my mouth drools in memory) - including sun-baked bread and some form of eggs. Then, it´s the activity of the day (sightseeing, market etc), followed by dinner at 5, and evening meditation. Every night, the sky is filled with dazzling stars of a completely foreign constellation. There is no north star or big dipper, and we can´t figure out which one is the southern cross. The stars pulsate intensely. I´ve never seen them vibrate so vividly.

High altitude
We arrived in Cuzco at 12,000 ft, then descended to the Sacred Valley at 9,900 ft.The altitude made me, first, very, very sleepy. It also makes you have really bad gas, indigestion, and livid, hallucinatory dreams. One of the more frightening dreams, during which I screamed and woke myself up, was that I was about to be eaten by a vampire. Must´ve been that gigantic (and I mean GIGANTIC) tarantula-like spider that I saw crawling around in our teepee.

Meditation
The first meditation session was only 10 minutes, it felt like 30. During which I hallucinated a perspectival view of a medievil town with stonewalls and a cathedral tower in the distance, then I thought about my missing bags, thought about writing - breathe, breathe, breathe - thought about my numb legs - breathe, breathe. My second meditation session involved visualization. A rose in bloom at the heart center, and a diamond in your third eye (space in between and slight higher than eyebrows). Imagine someone who is a.) easy to love b.) an acquaintance c.) difficult to love, chant internally, projecting mental and physical happiness, wisdom, compassion and freedom from suffering onto that person. Even though my mind wandered to a.) what I needed to pack for Machu Picchu b.) my lost bags c.) my numb legs, this was kinda cool.

Sound Bites (from my head)
"Shamanism is the new spiritualism, plus it´s trendy in LA."
"I think this group is a tad too new age-y for me."

Ollantaytambo
We walked around the town and got a guided tour of the ruins. We learned that the Incans believed that the condor is a symbol of power, and a spiritual messenger between the dead and the gods, and the moon and sun. That´s really cool.

Having a moment
On day three, I woke up feeling like I hadn´t slept. I was short of breathe, slightly nauseous and had tossed around all night. Yoga class was energizing but strenuous, and I was still short of breathe. After a huge breakfast, I almost fainted (there goes my low blood sugar theory). Spoonfuls of sugar and emergen-C instantly revived, but I was still shaky for the next few hours. I took half an acetazolamide (meds for altitude sickness) against my better judgement, and this made me extremely dehydrated, even more light-headed and woozy, and ultimately feverish. I went to take a nap, and as I lay there, my mind started to spin. I was surrounded by a group of people all day long, and yet they weren´t ´my´people, and I never felt more alone. I burst into tears. I realized I was homesick, which was a first for me. I must be getting sentimental in old age.

Machu Picchu
Do people chase after spirituality because they´re unhappy in their present life? Or is there something truly fulfilling about bringing spirituality into the here and now? We´ve spent the last two days in the company of a Shaman, who gave us a guided tour of the sacred sites of Machu Picchu, and led us in various sacred ceremonies at these sites -
chanting into a sacred stone wall, group OM-ing into a stone enclosure to close, praying in an opening ceremony to ask permission to enter Machu Picchu. He also led us in a San Pedro (cactus) plant ceremony. It was indescribable really, sitting high up on Machu Picchu mountain peering across at Machu Picchu. We were the guardians of Machu Picchu. Clouds roll and curl around the folding mountains, just like in a chinese painting. At one point I had a moment with the mountains, and for the second time on this trip, burst into tears (maybe it´s PMS?). I didn´t really find fulfillment in this type of experience (anymore anyway). We were supposed to have been going on a sacred and spiritual journey, to be awakened, and yet, there was more rollicking and goofing off (which is fine but you don´t need to ingest a plant substance to do this do you?) than being ´spiritual´. I´d rather find joy in the present tense - loving someone and being loved, being with family and friends, eating yummy pork tacos. And perhaps this was exactly the lesson that Machu Picchu had intended for me.

When it comes down to it, spirituality is a religion - because it holds the promise of something better than this life, the hope of a more enlightened, fulfilled after-life. And plant medicine (San Pedro and Ayuhuasca) seem to be the vehicles by which one can glimpse the potential beyond our present life, via connecting with the power of mother earth. But how does all this help one better their present life? And, the irony is that these plant ceremonies (both San Pedro and Ayuhuasca) have been commoditized in Cuzco, with signs all over town marketing these ceremonies as if they were white water rafting or trekking.

Coca leaf reading
I know, sounds hoky, that´s what I thought too. And of course, it´s all about marketing - the reader says what you want and need to hear, all the things that you already know intuitively deep down, but just need the affirmation. Presentation is key, and her presentation was flawless, and shook me to the core (I bawled for like the gazillionth time on this trip). My original intentions on this trip (stated almost as an after-thought because I had to as part of a ´circle´) were to figure out my life´s path and to open my heart. The coca leaf reader went straight to both of these points - that I needed to fulfill my creative potential, that that was my form of spirituality, and through this I´d find happiness and love. This was my awakening.

I just want to swim goddamn it

I mean, is that too much to ask?? In New York City it is. Like everything else in New York, swimming is a process. We tried to go swimming in the Floating Lady yesterday - an artificial pool built in New Orleans, transported to Brooklyn, and docked on the Brooklyn Heights piers, I know I know. It's docked right below the Brooklyn promenade, so we figured we'd just walk to it and jump in, pretty straight-forward.

The scorching sun bearing down on us, we walked through abandoned warehouses next to the noisy highway. We get there at 6 pm, knowing that it closed at 7 pm, thinking we could enjoy a nice, cool 30 or 45 minute swim. Perfect, right? But true to new york form, there were scheduled time slots for swimming (?!?!) and they wouldn't let us in because we missed the last 'slot'. DUDE. We ended up having wine and chips on top of Ali's roof, which was also nice and cool, but swimming was on the brain.

Today, I partook in the brutal but quintessential g-h-e-t-t-o Brooklyn experience of jury duty, in the g-h-e-t-t-o-est part of Brooklyn (Jay Street). Jury duty took all day, and the only saving grace was the a/c and wifi. For breakfast, I'd eaten 2 granola bars and washed those down with two watery cups of coffee from the vending machines in the court room. And because I was missing my daily fiber dose of Google fruit, I felt gross and thus decided to end the day with a swim in the Red Hook community pool.

I'd called several times to ask when the pool closed and of course got three different answers from three different people - 7 pm, 8 pm, 8:30 pm - who sounded like they had no clue what the hell was going on and just making stuff up, which they pretty much were. Walking from the subway to the pool, the sidewalks were lined with smelly garbage, great. And then I passed the refuse center , which emanated an even stronger stench. New York is just so gross sometimes. But there was a sign outside saying the pool was open until 8 pm, awesome.

Finally I get to the pool and, in the locker room, the women who work at the recreation center are yelling at us that the pool closes in 7 minutes. Wha?? It's only 7:30 right now. So I go in anyway, and on my way into the pool, ask a lifeguard what time the pool closes. She says 7:45 pm. WHATEVER. I dip into the pool. Aaaah, cool velvet envelopes me and washes away the g-h-e-t-t-o stenches and stresses of the day. I'd barely swam two laps when all the lifeguards start blowing whistles and yelling at us to get out. You can't be serious. After 10 minutes of mass chaos and confusion, I finally get the 411 from the lead parks and recreation dude. The pool is usually open for lap swimming from 7 to 8:30, but today, because they extended general swim times to 7:45, they had to kick everyone out and then let us back in. (Literally, they shooed us into the women's locker room, where we stood there and waited for 10 minutes and then went back to the pool). At 8 pm sharp, once the rabble cleared out, all us yuppy lap swimmers went back in.

It was awesome, except that there were a couple of rude, testosterone-y dudes splashing excessively and taking up too much space. I switched lanes to where there were slow girls swimming. Heh. Even the G train ride back home didn't completely cancel out my relaxed post-swim zen. But sure was nice re-surfacing into the peaceful, non-smelly, partially gentrified neighborhood of my part of Brooklyn.

Taiwan

Taiwanese politics, shanghainese food, and family friends
My god, the extent to which my mother can pontificate, endlessly, about the corrupt president and his corrupt cronies, you'd think she was running for office or working for the KMT (opposition political party to current government). I went to several dinners with my parents and their friends, and even though I'm no longer a teenager, I found myself wishing I could gossip about boys, shopping or anything other than boring politics.

7.1 Earthquake, first in 100 years

Of all the days and all the places to take a short trip, my parents and I chose the normally sleepy beach town of Kenting to get some extra warmth for the winter. We actually had a great time walking through the Kenting National Forest, which turned out to be more like Brooklyn Botanical Garden with paved paths and flora transplanted from different regions.

On the second (and last) night, after a day of sightseeing, we'd just come back to the room from dinner. The room starts to visibly shake and sway horizontally. My dad thought he was drunk because we'd had beers at dinner. I yell at my parents to get under the doorway, but the doorway is shaking as much as the room, and a deep sort of sonic growl permeates the air.

After the first shock, we pack up our valuables and water, and scram out to the hotel lobby. But our room is so far from the main entrance that we get caught during the second after-shock under exploding hallway lights and imploding ceiling bits. Nothing at all like the cali variety - what with multiple after shocks almost as large as the first.

We spend about four hours sitting in the parking lot of the hotel before they let us back in. We checked into different rooms, presumably closer to the front, but we still slept in our street clothes in case we needed to make a quick escape. The next morning, we noticed cracks in the cement pillars that supported our rooms!

Chinese medicine at the baths
Wang ayi took us to a spa/baths/swimming pool facility, where there were hot pools (think: large jacuzzi) and steam rooms infused with chinese medicine, aloe, and ginseng. It was pretty awesome. Almost as interesting was watching my mom and her friend gossip like school girls, in their swimming caps and floral bathing suits with skirts. Afterwards, just to top it off, we went to a chinese medicine soup place.

Youtiao, Jok, vendors, and food street
My all time favorite food in Taiwan is the snack - morning snack, mid-day snack or midnight snack. My first day there we ate 'shao bing you tiao' (oily sticks??) at this twenty-four place, it was awesome. The night after the baths, we went to a porridge place where you can pick side dishes to go with your 'jok'. On new years eve, my mom and I snacked our way through vendor stands while waiting to meet my cousin - dan bing (egg pancake), jiu cai he, zua bing. In the basement of shopping centers, in the 'food street', I snacked on all sorts of soup noodles, beef noodles, korean noodles, seafood noodles.

Shoe shopping binge
Ok so not that hard to believe but this was a lot even for me. I've become intimate friends with Sogo and XinGuangSanYue - shopping centers that combine the one-stop shop benefit of malls with unique boutique-quality offerings.

I don't really DO shopping centers in nyc, but for some reason, I LOVE the malls in Taipei. But I can say, with confidence, that the clothing is better at Sogo - on the 'fashion floor' - and the shoes on the first floor of building 11 in XinGuangSanYue are to die for. The key differentiator is that every mall has a 'mei shi jie' - food street. Oh yeah. Yummy sustenance, not some fast food crap, is the key to shopping.

Two hour pedi
Bella and I met up at Breeze Shopping Center, yet another one-stop shop with food in the basement level. We had a snack in the food street, window shopped, had coffee and cake at a cafe, and got a two hour pedi. It wasn't as good as the one in Shanghai but was good to gossip with Bella.