We had a big breakfast and a light lunch, eating nothing else for the rest of the day, but still having plenty of water to drink, a requirement in the tropics and indeed anytime you travel. You must have your wits about you after all, and without the main source of fuel for your bodies proper functioning, all hope of such performance is quickly lost to delirium.When night fell and Wilder, our guide and interpreter for our meeting with the Shaman and still further for our trip into the jungle, came to visit us at the Salamander backpacker hostel where we stayed. We took a motortaxi while he rode the company motorcycle behind us. For 15 minutes we rode back in the direction of the airport, through narrow, dimly lit streets and passed various establishments of unknown or questionable character, until turning off the paved road onto a muddy dirt path, with only a single light at the far end to light the ever narrowing corridor.We came to a stop at a light blue building, unfinished in construction by any western standards, but perfectly livable as far as anyone here in Peru is concerned. We were greeted at the door by a large elderly women and several kids of various ages swarming about her feet. As we entered the household Dora the Explorer, a children's cartoon, was on the tv, in Spanish of course, and besides a few things hanging from the walls, the room was remarkably plain.We passed through the building and out into the back yard, ducking under the numerous clothes lines stretching from one end of the back yard to the other. It was dark, but we could see multiple chickens running about at our feet and all over the yard. Mostly we heard them though, there must have been quite a few because we heard many chirps from every direction.Wilder brought us into an enclosed area where 2 chairs and a bed sat across from each other. We greeted the Shaman and he asked us to sit down, we did. Wilder explained everything we must do to properly experience the ritual and went into careful detail how we should and shouldn´t react to certain things that might happen."You must trust the shaman, he will take care of you. You may lose yourself completely to the Ayahuasca if you do not concentrate on what you're doing and why you are here. Remember to always remain focused, your focus determines your reality." Having taken numerous psychedelics before I knew the truth in Wilder's words. It's very easy to let go of yourself and fall into oblivion, it takes guts and raw determination to hold on in the face of utter annihilation.Before of laying out on the mat the shaman set his bag of pure-leaf tobacco cigarettes, 6 bottles and a special fan that helped ward off evil spirits. "Before you drink, you must ask the spirits what you wish to see, ask them to show you, and prepare to see what show you." said Wilder.The Shaman poured me a cup and blew heavy tobacco smoke into the cup, which swirled around inside it and seemed to regenerate itself from inside the cup, long after he had finished breathing into it. Then he blew smoke on my head, down the front and back of my shirt and finally he poured liquids from the other vessels into my hands, which he gestured for me to rub all over my body, as a protection against pain from vomiting or evil spirits coming and going from my body.Finally it was time to drink, I raised the cup to my forehead and asked the spirits to open my heart to the healing of the plant and allow the Shaman to read me like a book, in order to see what must be done in the future, this was after all our first ceremony, designed to show the Shaman how much work he must do in order to help heal our body and minds.I drank the liquid in one shot, taking note after the fact, the fowl, bitter taste of the viscus substance. No matter how hard I tried to swallow the taste away, it seemed to leave a thick layer of itself sticking to the walls of my mouth. In 20 minutes or so it finally faded away. Perhaps It was still just as strong, I just didn't care to notice anymore. Blake drank next, but took it in a few tilting shots. The Shaman took the cup then gave it back to him, asking him to finish everything that was inside, which he did.Wilder gave us a few more bits of information, letting us know that our ride would return at 2am to pick us up when the ceremony was finished, and left the small enclosure, closing us in with a graded piece of metal that had been sitting idly in the corner. As he left, the Shaman began his preparations, and he to drank a cup of the Ayahuasca, poured from the same bottle.We were asked to close our eyes for the entire ceremony, and the Shaman began his chanting and heavy smoking of tobacco. After 40 minutes I had kept my eyes totally closed, it was at this point I began to feel the effects pooling around my consciousness and ten Minutes later it was in full swing. At first it distorts your sense of location, in the sense that you can no longer tell where your own eyes are located. You still see normally, if you care to open your eyes, which I did every so often just to anchor myself to reality, if I felt lost or confused, but then your mind takes on a numbness I can't really explain. Your entire perception of direction is torn slowly away from its origin, and dragged along another plane of existence in a continuous fluid tear within your vision.At this point, all kinds of emotions and feelings rushed into my mind, I felt the presence of disaster in the actions that colored my failed relationships, How wrong I had been in so many ways as a youth and the people id negatively affected along the way. The faces of my family, alive and dead, came quickly, in and out of my thoughts. Not so much as clear visions but as memories and feelings attached to them.I threw up soon after the heaviest part of the trip was beginning to fade, it was at this point the Shaman presented me with another full cup of the Ayahuasca brew. I took the cup, performed a similar ritual as I did the first time, and drank. Unfortunately I wasn't yet done vomiting from the first time around and immediately threw up the second cup while Blake was receiving his next dose. So the rest of the ceremony was a cool down period for me, while Blake kept both cups down without throwing up, until hours later when we were about to leave. "A trait that has inspired many friends and fellow trippers alike to nickname Blake, iron-lung or lead-stomach."Many times during my mushroom trips and even lsd, I experience these emotions and see the same messages, it is because of those psychedelic experiences that I've been able to come to terms with my past, and better deal with all the things in my present, and indeed, even my future. This experience was quite strong for Blake, but not that much for me. Which is fine, because as the Shaman would later tell me, I was quicker to purge what was inside, while whatever was within Blake, was deep within him, and would take more time to expel.At around 1:30 The Shaman took Blake out of the enclosure and brought me to the cot to lay down. While I lay there thinking about the experience I overheard Blake vomiting loudly somewhere in the backyard. For another hour or so I lay there, trying to relax, not knowing exactly where Blake was or what he was doing. It was now 2:30am and from the darkness we heard, "Daniel? Are you ready?" "Yes," I said, "Blake, how about you?" a slow and half way sounding, "yeah." came from the darkness.We thanked the Shaman and wobbled heavily out of the back yard, nearly tripping over the numerous chicks jetting side to side across the yard like mini velociraptors. We came back into the house, said goodbye to the family, got into the motor taxi and drove home in silent amazement at what had just transpired. Reaching the hostel and climbing into bed, very little was said. I found it difficult to sleep, but eventually sleep found me, and yet no dreams would follow, I felt as though I had been in a dream all to real, for a very, very long time...
Fairwell Cusco, Bienvenido Iquitos
Early in the morning, at around 6, I got up and said goodbye to Luiz whose bus left at a 7am, "When I get outside I will cry." he said, gave me one last hug and squeezed through the narrow slit in the doorway with his large pack. A couple of hours later Ninoska left, we had a nice hug, and then it was just the 3 of us, Blake, Humberto and I. Humberto made a delicious enchilada breakfast with last nights left overs and then he too left us to tend to his business.Our flight to Lima was at 2:40 so we waited until 12 to get a taxi to the airport, which was 8 soles. Upon arriving the woman at the Avianca counter asked us for our tickets, we had only the print out given to us at the main office, she seemed terribly distressed by this, asking us if we had signed in electronically via the net, we said no and this didn't help her worried demeanor. She told us it was a security precaution and that someone had already signed us in. "must have been the people at the office we bought the flights in." We said. We eventually we settled this and then she informed Blake that his pack was to unorganized and had to be wrapped in a plastic wrap before being allowed on the plane, so they charged us 35 soles and wrapped it in an alien green plastic sheath.When we went through security the guard pulled me aside and asked me if I had a pocket knife in my bag, I did, he made me remove it and was going to throw it away, I stopped him in his tracks and said, "this is my father's knife, I'm not throwing it away." His face turned ugly and he said it wasn't possible to keep the knife with me on board, I asked him if there was a way to get it into my checked baggage and he said It was very unlikely. With a final plea he let me through the security door in the back and said I had 5 minutes to return through security and that getting the knife checked was my responsibility. It wasn't really my father's knife, but I had gotten it in Switzerland with my mom more than 15 years ago and I wasn't going to let it go just because it wasn't a good enough story to pass mustard with this guy.I went back to the Avianca counter and asked if they could check my knife in my bag, they said it was impossible, I would have to check another bag with the knife inside. I feel silly to have suggested checking my toiletries bag, but I did and they almost snickered at the idea of it. So I checked my trusted yellow backpack, the one I've been traveling with right by my side for the last 9 years, without ever checking it. I did remove my money satchel first though, if nothing else, Id have that to get me through things if it was lost or stolen. Money is the most important thing to travel with after all. I got back through security and joined Blake sitting in the waiting area of our gate.I looked at my ticket and thought I saw our arrival time as 6:05, I had told our couch surfer in Iquitos that we would arrive at 8:30, So I paid the 3 soles at the cafe for use of their wifi and related to her our change in arrival. Blake got a medium size bag of classic Lays potato chips for us to share and we waited for the gate to open. Soon we were boarded, and as soon as our plane took off I checked my ticket again and noticed with great disappointment in my powers of observation that our flight didn't in fact arrive at 6:05, but at the original time I had told her. As if to ease my conscience, the pilot informed us that due to better than expected flight conditions we would be arriving in Iquitos at around 7:40, which made my blunder a little easier to take.We arrived in Iquitos and walked off the plane down the steps on to the tarmac for several hundred meters until reaching the building at the far right side where our baggage would be unloaded. Moments later we had our bags and exited the building straight into the parking lot where an army of motortaxi drivers and anxiously awaiting relatives of all types waited to see their kin, or whoever it was they were there to meet.There standing next to the curb was Caroline, our local couch surfing host. The three of us greeted each other and crammed into the first motor taxi who had a reasonable price, which Caroline was easily able to accomplish. The motor taxis which I refer to are nothing more than split down the middle motorcycles with a back-end resembling a two-wheel cart with a plastic roof. Some are nicer than others to be sure, but anything fancier would require some higher purpose that doesn't really exist around these parts, with the exception of those used for hauling commercial goods that is.We reached Caroline's fathers hostel, named the Salamander Backpackers, and unloaded our gear into our double bunk-bed room with a single rickety fan spinning haphazardly from the ceiling. The beds were 20 soles a night, which we didn't have to pay. She took us to a local sports bar that was owned by an ex marine and baseball player from Texas that had amazingly decorated walls, full of jerseys, sports memorabilia, 25 foot snake skins and much, much more. The upstairs bar was named Margaritaville and aptly so, the winding metal staircase was actually pretty treacherous, in the states we'd call something like that a lawsuit waiting to happen, but here in Iquitos, and indeed in South America at large, no such weakness in a local drunks character, or ability to make any claim of fault except that of his own, exists.Looking at the menu, we found the Ayahuasca diet options in the very back. Blake chose the veggie burrito and the fish and I the personal veggie pizza. My pizza was blander than any Id ever imagined, it didn't even have tomato sauce on it, I nearly choked on the dry crust. Blakes Burrito was the same, but at least his fish was alright. We ended up having to get some sugar-free fruit juices just to get the food down. We spoke a little with Caroline about our plans here in Iquitos, that we were looking for a legitimate Shaman to facilitate our Ayahuasca Healing and that we were not interested in a mass ceremony with many people. She said she knew someone who might be able to help us and that we could talk with them in the morning. We returned to the Hostel, said goodnight to Caroline and returned to our bunk beds to sweat the whole night through beneath the rickety, barely effective ceiling fan.
San Pedro - Temple of the Moon
Ninoska was already gone by the time we had woken up and Luiz was there for a short time before going out to settle his affairs with the bus company for his ride to Nasca. He asked if we would still be there when we returned but really neither of us had a definite answer for him. He left and Blake turned on the tv hoping to continue the Star Wars series that we had been watching the night before. It had ended with Return of The Jedi so naturally it would go to The Phantom Menace next, George Lucas's brilliant idea of making 4,5 and 6 first and then 1,2 and 3 later, not so surprising I guess, it is a space opera after all..Amazingly as soon as he turned it on it was the classic ascending blue type so characteristic of the franchise, Long, long ago in a Galaxy far far away... STAR WARS! So we watched the whole movie and then it went into how each of the original movies were made, how Lucas nearly killed himself trying to make the movies his way, while keeping the franchising rights and also funding all of it himself. Its a great story, we enjoyed it.When it was over Blake suggested that we drink the San Pedro again and go to the Temple of the Moon as Ninoska had planned for us. I wasn't convinced it was such a good idea and muddled around avoiding the commitment while Blake took the initiative and began to drink without me, and this time out of the 2.5 liter bottle that had been cooked an hour longer than the other batch. Seeing my troubles and usually knowing just what to say to give me the necessary kick in the pants, Blake laid on me a phrase he's been known to use before, "analysis is paralysis Danny." With a short and muffled sigh I reached for my cup and pored myself a dose.But it didn't end there. After we had both finished our cups we pored another half and drank that too. Perhaps to ensure the full experience but mostly I think, so that there would be no going back before the day was nearly over and everyone was home. It was 1pm, we got some green grapes at the market, a smidgen less than a kilo for 10 soles, we didn't feel like paying her 12 for the full. You get the sense around these markets that your always being screwed, even Ninoska has trouble getting the fair price from the vendors, but were always standing right behind her when shes asking the price, they see the gringos purse attached somehow to hers and make the leap, no harm in asking right?We found a driver willing to take us to the Temple, we knew it was 20 soles to get there, but the driver asked for 30 and with the San Pedro slowly creeping into us already, I suppose we were more apt to pay a little extra to get there in good time. Even so, the ride was much shorter than I expected and me being the penny pincher I am while traveling felt taken for a ride of another sort as we were dropped off.Getting out of the van, we came to a small barbed wire fence and passed through onto a field that stretched in all directions for several miles There was a village to the right and another in the narrow of the valley much further ahead of us. We continued on the dirt path towards a large mound of rock that could be seen from nearly anywhere in the area. Passing an elderly man walking with slow patient steps, saying hello as we passed, we rounded a mud-brick building and were soon climbing the ancient steps that surrounded the Temple.There were many people about, Peruvians, Foreigners and guides to suit both. As soon as we climbed the ridge there where 5 gringos smoking Marijuana in a nook beside the ancient alter, we said hello and quickly passed them with a smile between ourselves.According to mainstream archaeology the temple is the same age as the Incan Empire, a belief held by many and propagated by the governments and institutions who benefit from a seemingly clean cut answer. Unfortunately for them, it isn't so simple. The Inca's never built anything like this again in their own time, they simply inherited the ruins from much older civilizations and built much less sophisticated structures around them. Main stream archaeology suggests that the less sophisticated structures were built first, but none of them are built under the ruins they're all build around them, and if the technology used to build them came later, how come no knowledge of it survived?In addition to this, there are numerous indications of weatherization totally inconsistent with the 500 year time frame of the Incan empire, the state of the rock in the temple indicates several thousand years worth of rainfall, snow and other elemental damage, making the 500 year time span a ridiculous suggestion. This however is not unique to the ruins in Peru, there are countless other examples all over the world. So why try to convince people were a much younger species than we really are?Well, you try to convince the 2.5 Billion Christians the world isn't 15,000 years old, or that dinosaurs exist, or that everything everyone's ever been told was always a convenient lie to keep them in an intellectual prison. It's not just religion that binds us to a meager understanding of the world, everything from Mass Media, our peer groups and society at large keep us in the box we were born to live in. The truth is the people who have the most power have the most to lose and are scared shitless we'll all walk away from their massive treadmill of death and taxes.Yet I digress..We really didn't want to be around other people for our trip, so we went down the western side of the temple, found some caves that went underneath the complex and found places probably used to sleep carved straight into the walls, there seemed to be cave art on the walls, but my iPhones flashlight wasn't strong enough to pierce the strange darkness that consumed the dwelling.Leaving the cave and coming out into the open field we decided to head for the caves visible in the hills perhaps 1200 meters away. When we were almost there I felt a large bulge in my throat and gagged as I spat grapes and other anomalous greens and oranges on to the dirt between my feet. Blake has disappeared in between the trees ahead of me and after finishing my expulsion I continued on in search of him. Rounding the corner and coming to a small passage leading into a cave system that had a skylight directly above it with 3 entrances and exists in a triangular shape, I saw Blake setting up his speaker on a large rock that lay where it had fallen from the now open skylight.We were all alone, and from the Eastern facing exit of the cave we could see a large portion of Cusco, the surrounding villages and the Temple of the Moon itself, with the mountains rising high above us to the West. As the San Pedro elevated our senses and drew us closer to the rocks and the plants that were all around us, we sat and meditated for several hours.Every few minutes a plane would take off or land from the massive airstrip that dominated the Northern portion of Cusco, flying between the mountain ranges and then making a sharp right through a gap in the peeks. Back in Lima Nino had told us it was actually a pretty difficult maneuver for the pilots, especially when the weather wasn't so good.We could always see the people coming and going from the Temple, although it is an impressive site, most tourists never see it because the companies that do the tours can't get their buses near enough to the temple, the people must walk a fair distance, and the same distance back, and thus taking up too much time, and time, is money... We were glad though, it ensured a mostly clear view of the complex for us and also kept our little spot completely off the touristic radar.Eventually the sun reached a low enough point in the sky for us to take one last look around, enjoy the sights and take in the sweet unpolluted air that flowed freely through the area above the city. We descended from the hills and walked along the cow pastures in the valley below, unfortunately I was too eager in my stride and walked right into a mud pit, soaking my crocks and socks with a thick, mineral rich mud, that had a pungent earthly fragrance too. Luckily I had brought an extra pair of socks, and there was a nearby pond for me to clean off my crocks.After exiting the field through the same barbed wire fence we came through in the beginning, and having no intention of paying the same 30 soles to return home, we walked along the side of the road for what must have been an hour and half or more. We thought of taking one of the many side streets and long steep steps that short cut through the hills and into the city below, we almost did too, but looking out across the city in the state we were in, even after 5 hours having passed, we chose to remain with the option we knew would get us home safely, even if it would take twice as long, a good practice in the psychedelic experience, believe me...We really didn't know where we were until reaching the market that was just up the street from Ninoskas house, but that was all the clue we needed. Making it to the house with no light remaining in the sky we rang the doorbell and were let in by Humberto who used the remote that each phone in the building has on its panel.Humberto had shaved his beard, it was a new face, but a welcomed addition to the group. Humberto had never done San Pedro and either I was trippin or he didn't know how to react to us while on it. Either way, we quickly got into the groove of things, listened to music and decided to go out to the marketplace for dinner supplies. Ninoska, Humberto, Luiz, Blake and I left the house and went down the alley towards the main drag next to the University, where all the students hung out. Luiz had his skateboard with him, it had big ole polyurethane wheels on it and a good balance too. Humberto gave it a shot, and we tried to get Ninoska to ride it, but after Luiz got on it with a little too much enthusiasm and stopped short on a rock in the road flying from the board and taking a dive on the pavement, she opted for a brisk walk instead. Which was fine because Blake took charge from there and channeled Tony Hawk for the rest of the adventure.Once we got to the super market Blake and I realized how off we were in the whole scene and opted to wait outside while the others purchased the goods. I gave Humberto 20 soles and we returned home, with Blake snaking his way through the crowds on the board, his new tan poncho flailing in the cross winds, we were back in no time.Humberto did the cooking while I did all the prep work and the others sat on the couch watching two Peruvian soccer teams battle it out. It was a lovely meal, the best we've had so far for sure. I shared pictures of our families back home, we listened to some more music and one by one each of us faded away into our beds, ready or not, for the goodbyes that tomorrow would bring.