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.
San Pedro - The StarGate
In the morning Luiz and I went to the internet cafe, I wrote a blog post and we ran back to the house to meet up with Ninoska and Blake. We took a taxi to a bus station and from there we met up with two of Ninoskas friends, one a Spanish teacher and the other her Portuguese student, we greeted one another and piled into a van that would take us to a valley in the hills an hour away. Getting off beside a river we crossed the bridge to the other side, and Ninoska pointed out large metal pods dotting the mountains high above us, apparently someone had the bright idea of turning them into a hotel, one you have to rent climbing equipment just to reach.On the other side of the river we took out 3 cups and pored the viscus liquid into them. I was able to finish mine in one go, Luiz had an inch left in his, and Blake took the entire 30 minute walk along the train tracks to finish his, one sip at a time, which I know is the harder way to go, but he's always been a more cautious tester than I.The view along the tracks was gorgeous, with open fields, high mountains, a heartily flowing river and beautiful green trees lining everything around us. It was a scene reminiscent of so many movies I've seen before, you know the ones, desperate or wild youths of all kinds setting out down the tracks in hopes of escaping whatever, or wherever they came from.Compared to Cusco there was virtually no pollution, except that of trash here and there along the track and in the river, still, it was quite nice, and each of us was happy to be there. We came to a road and a dormant row of rail cars filled with plastic bags, that were themselves filled with something else. A short hike further down the track we came to a trail leading up into the mountains, at first nothing discernible could be seen but then we made out a large rock dwelling a hundred meters above us or so.Surrounding the dwelling were several large terraces that had completely grown over with shrub, no one had tended to them for quite some time. We climbed the grown over steps until finally reaching the dwelling. There was a wall with many windows that had recently been made, perhaps 400 years ago, you could tell that it had once been apart of a greater structure, that now was long gone. Beside it, and underneath the large rock ceiling that covered a portion of it, was a large smooth single piece stone that had been intricately carved into some sort of alter, the top half of which had been broken off, and likely resided beneath the ground in front of it.Behind all this, and further into the cave dwelling was a star-gate like entrance that led nowhere, something like a large rectangle laying on its long side, carved straight into the wall, with another, smaller rectangle standing on its ends carved deeper within it. The level of precision that each cut was made, and the perfection of the proportions relating to each shape is really hard to imagine. Within the last rectangle was a prayer offering, some flowers and half burned incense. In the very back of the dwelling there was a rock wall half way to the ceiling, climbing that you found yourself in a cave in which you could hear bats fluttering about, but no exit or entrance to any deeper part could be seen or foundWe all sat and meditated for a time, I was the first to drink and thus the first to feel the effects of the San Pedro, and I was also the first to get up and walk around. I went to the right side of the outer structure and climbed the rocks that made up the roof of the dwelling, above I could see more terraces and little hovels that used to be something else, but they were so grown over I couldn't really make out what.Beyond the first outcropping of rocks I found a hole big enough to climb into that went straight down into the area behind the dwelling, the structure must of had connecting tunnels at one time that were now blocked off, and this was an entrance or exit to those tunnels that still remained open. Feeling more and more confident in my abilities by the minute, thanks to the Mescaline, but not enough to risk entry without my companions knowledge, I decided to climb the vast ridge that rose up beside the whole area instead, at least this way they would be able to see me, and what I was doing.The ridge was quite narrow, perhaps only 2 feet in width in places, I was wearing my crocks and socks, with virtually zero tread, but somehow was making light work of the entire endeavor, Looking at my companions below I quickly noticed that Blake was in hot pursuit of me, easily closing the gap I had made between them and myself, and joining me on the ridge moments later. From where we sat we could see both sides of the valley, one leading back to the main river and the road from which we came, and the other into parts unknown.As the San Pedro worked itself into us, a sense of unity with the land and disconnection from the world of man pervaded over us. "it's funny how quickly (man) becomes something so entirely separate from something else inside us in this state of awareness, isn't Blake?" I said. "Yep" he said, as we both turned our focus to the roaring siren of the train rearing the corner to our left. A huge and ugly beast, tearing its way into our reality, we quickly took on the emotions of the native peoples who must have felt just as we did right then, back in the time of Americas conquest by the western juggernaut of expansion and genocidal colonization. How terrifying and invasive such a creation must have been for the indigenous people of these lands. How hopeless they must have felt in the face of these demonic metal behemoths spreading the white devil and his ways all over their lands.The train passed and some other people joined the others in the dwelling from the tracks for a short while, after which Blake and I returned to join them as well. At around 4 we left the holy site and once again walked along the tracks back to the river. Halfway there I vomited all over the tracks, several times, each one the hallucinations became more vivid and intense, as they usually do when I vomit on psychedelics, and just as I did a family passed us on their way to who knows where, an interesting passing of souls to be sure..We stopped at a store and our two sober friends got somethings to snack on, while Blake and I went across a small bridge and sat down overlooking the brook. We left shorty after and I remained behind the group looking about, enjoying the sensations that flowed freely through my muscles and skin. Mescaline allows you to feel the same bodily feelings as mushrooms but doesn't effect your mind in almost anyway, something I cant say the same for mushrooms, which is entirely overpowering for the mind and body, making mescaline my top choice for people who cannot handle the mental aspect of psychedelics. It's really amazing actually, I didn't even think such a substance existed, even Marijuana can scare me pretty bad, not so with San Pedro.While the rest of the group was a good 30 meters ahead of me, an elderly Peruvians women, perhaps in her 70's, wearing traditional dress and a beautiful rounded red cap, came up behind me and I offered her some of my water, she graciously accepted and we talked while we walked about the beauty of the land and of the crazy metal pod hotel that was now visible upon the mountains in front of us. "It's just a crazy thing for money!" I told her, she smiled a broad and terribly cute smile and held me with a laugh, Sii! Claro.. She then said several things in quick succession which I didn't understand, but I nodded knowingly with the intermittent , "si" to keep her going smoothly, and for every one of my nods and "Si's" she would give me a smile and call me here "little one".With one last smile and an air blown kiss from her time and experience worn hands, she bid me farewell and walked off into the field to the right and tended to the animals grazing there. The group was waiting for me at the junction and when I came within range they asked me what we had been talking about and I answered honestly that I really had no idea.. haha.We came to the side of the road and waited until a Movil Bus, one of the many tour buses in Peru, came to pick us up. The ride home was astonishingly beautiful, the sky was lit from all sides with a stark orange glow, emitted from the falling sun, and the clouds were creamy white mixed with hints of dark grey, signifying the coming storms which would bring the rain. As we ascended back towards Cusco, a bull fight could be seen in the city below, with the cheers of the crowds surrounding the arena still seemingly audible. There were only 3 people on the bus, the driver, his copilot, and a Frenchman with an entirely ridiculous accent, so heavy, it was beyond comprehension, I almost thought he was a collective figment of our imagination!We returned to Cusco, paid the 10 soles for our wonderful ride home and we then said goodbye to our two new friends, both of which knew beforehand that we would be partaking in San Pedro, but came along even so, and Im sure they are glad they did, just as we were.Ninoska, Luiz, Blake and I went to a Pizzeria, ordered a large, half vegetarian, half meat pie and sat in near drunken states waiting for it to be ready. In a strange twist of circumstance, the pizzeria was playing on all 3 television screens, UFO and alien conspiracy shows, with the go to X-files sound track to boot. We all thought that was very intriguing, especially Luiz who was kinda tripping out on the whole scene.We took a taxi home and sat in the living room listening to music for the next 3 hours, At the end of which Ninoska decided to drink a cup herself, none of us thought this was a good plan, since the duration of the trip is over 10 hours and she had to work in the morning, but she had really wanted to join in on the experience with us, so she took the plunge. San Pedro by the way is no glass of fresh OJ by any means, it's harsh and hard to get down, just what you'd expect a cactus to taste like in liquid form. I played some of my trippy music from my trippy friend in Australia that I worked with on the Boats and she freaked out a bit, so we all went to bed and somehow she was good to go to work the next day...
A Shamans Tale
In the morning Ninoska took us the the open market that takes place every Saturday in the plaza. We had a great deal of sweets and fatty deep fried potatoes filled with vegetables, mushrooms, creams, meats and spices of various kinds. We even had ice cream that was hand made right before our eyes, they used a bowl that was spun by hand over some freezing mechanism until it churned into a creamy delicious cream, each cup was 1.5 soles and definitely worth it.From there we found the official Avianca office and changed our flights to wednesday, the change cost us an extra $15 dollars, but we were happy to have the matter settled at last.It was at this point that Ninoska suggested we visit the coca leaf Shaman that lived two cities away. Luiz, Blake and I agreed and the four of us departed on the 2 sole bus that drove in a straight line all the way there. We got off the bus, turned a corner and entered a large house to the left of the street. Ginny pigs in cages lined the wall to the right, with little chiwawa type dogs digging through a compost/trash pile in front of them. To the left and down a few steps was a bench we were to sit on and wait. Beneath it, was a female German Shepard sleeping happily, and beside her was a doberman pinscher licking her gentiles on and off the entire time we were there.A lady had arrived before us and had asked the shaman to help her family with some woe or another. The shaman asked her to write the names of the individuals in need of help on a piece of paper and wrap it around a candle that she would light and sit in front of in prayer.Blake went in first, with Ninoska as his translator, while Luiz and I waited outside. I asked him if he was going to see the Shaman, he didn't seem to think so, but when when Blake came out with a shocked look on his face he seemed to change his mind. I went next.Inside the dark room was a large condor hanging from the wall and many paintings and feathers, rugs and beads dotting the room, with trinkets and such of unknown origin here and there. I sat down he asked me my name, "Daniel" I said, and he told ninoska that he had a good friend with that name who killed himself out of insane jealousy for his girlfriends secret lover, then the shaman went into a trance asking me to blow 3 times into a ball of coca leaves he had bulging in his hands. An interesting way to begin I thought...At first I didn't want to seem to reserved so I blew hard into the leaves and watched him twist them in his hands letting them fall bit by bit as he spoke. The first thing he told me is that I had fallen into a shallow pool when I was very young and hurt myself badly, and that this event had made me distrust the world and had made me a dire pessimist. To rectify this, he said I must return to the place it happened, put the dirt closest to the event in my mouth and ask my spirit of optimism and trust to return to my body.It was true, I had fallen into a shallow pool when I was around 2 and had a shattered bottle pierce my heart, nearly dying and having to go to the hospital. I've always had a dire pessimism as well, and up until now haven't really understood why, perhaps this is my answer.He went on to say that I worry far too much about everything and that I must be positive or I will draw all the negative of the world into myself and effect everyone around me badly. Then he said that I have the spirit of the Whale within me and that I thrive most around the water, "this is where you must live and work he said." In addition to this he said that I will likely marry a Gemini and have 2-3 children.He asked me if I wanted to ask him anything and I asked him what my destiny was, he held the coca leaves tightly then relaxed and said my destiny was to help others and that I would be the bridge between foreign cultures, that I would help cure peoples broken bodies through Reiki and yoga and that If could open all seven of my chakras I would be fine in life.Then he said that I would return in 2-3 years to Peru and that I would have my own business one day.I thanked him, half in shock and almost in tears, and exited the dark room, rejoining the others outside. As I sat down Luiz entered the room with Ninoska while I took my place next to Blake. We both sat motionless for a moment and a powerful gust of wind blew over the entire village, when it settled, both Blake and I looked sideways at each other, each recognizing the expression of awe on the others face, and in unison we laughed as though stunned by some irretrievable thought. "what a trip huh?" I said, "Yeah..." Blake replied.Blake explained his experience, and I mine, when Luiz exited the room, we could both tell it had been the same for him. Although It is an event we all shared, it is a personal one and so I will not relate either of their experiences here.On the ride home, Ninoska explained in further detail the words of the Shaman for each of us, being the only person who speaks Spanish fluently we relied entirely on her for what was said. After we shared our thoughts very little was said, and we rode the bus back to Cusco in a state of contemplation with dreamy gazes facing no direction in particular.We decided to visit the Black market, I needed a belt for my pants and bought 2 hand made tribal ones for 5 soles each, one for me and one for Blake, which he uses as a bandanna.Having 2 days left here in Cusco, and with not much else we want to see, Blake decided to look for San Pedro, another Shaman plant that has been used in the Americas for over 3 thousand years. Named "Saint Peter" by the conquering Spanish upon their arrival, The name is attributed to the belief that just as St Peter holds the keys to heaven, the effects of the cactus allow users "to reach heaven while still on earth"After only 2 minutes in the market we found a woman selling 2 full cactus's, she asked us if we wanted a full or only part of one, a full, she said, would be enough for 5 people. We decided to take the full 7 foot cacti... Taking it home, Ninoska showed us how to remove the fine, plastic like layer of skin, dice it and boil it down for a couple of hours, which is exactly what we did.After a few hours we had 3 large pots filled with San Pedro cooking on the stove. Having no clean socks or cheese cloth to strain the cacti with we used Blakes, Harrington #3 Warriors jersey to extract the last of juices from the pots. In the end we had 5 liters of Mescaline in 2, 2.5 liter bottles. We chilled them in the fridge and planned our trip before going to bed, already a bit stoned from cooking the brews over a friendly game of 13 over several hours...
Choquequiro - Final Ascent
Getting up early as usual, our invisible patron showed himself at last as we were putting our tent away. The cost for our stay upon his land was 33 cents. As we slowly marched up the mountain, thoughts of our final destination for the day spurred us onward. A final photo shoot, this time with a group of young people, stopped us as we reached the lookout point for the mid-valley. They shared bananas with us and we argued the fine points of organic littering, due to Blake dropping his peel on the ground, and we were off once again.Once we made it to the house on the edge of the mountain, the one with the elderly couple who let us stay in the cow flats,we got a KR lemon soda, we wanted Sprite but no such luxury was afforded us. It was a sad consolation prize, especially since it has aspartame in it but it gave us some much-needed energy so It wasn't all bad.While we were there a group of 3 hikers came, 2 from Australia and one from Germany. We gave them the advice we were givin, plus whatever we thought they could use as food for thought. They thanked us and went onwards down the trail towards the ruins.We waited an hour and a half for a taxi and took it back to cachora. The driver asked for 10 soles each but I saw the others give 5 so I did the same and the old man accepted it without a fuss. When we got to the taxis waiting in town the driver tried to charge 10 each for us, thinking it was a rip off we refused. Another driver exited the nearby cafe and said the same price, explaining that it was not possible to exit the same road we came down on for some reason and that we would have to go a longer way to the top. So we agreed and drove what truly was a longer way back to Raymond.When we got there we waited alongside the road for a local bus to come. Blake became impatient and wanted to take a taxi Curiwassi. Just as he said this a taxi driver who had been sitting on his hands on the other side of the road, offered to take us there for 5 soles each, we unanimously agreed and joined him in the car. A short while later and a few extra passengers picked up along the way, we reached Curiwassi. From there we got in a van and were taken back to Cusco for 15 soles each. We were stopped by the police and our driver had to go into the police station but quickly rejoined us and continued on.A little while later we passed a semi that hd flipped over on the road, several workers were engaged in trying to dig out the undercarriage in order to get it back on its wheels. When we finally returned to Cusco, we entered the first nice restaurant we saw and had the most expensive meal for either of us so far, 2 pizzas, 2 lemonades, a mushroom soup, and a mixed salad. Blake had bought a 2 litter bottle of sprite at the convenience store outside and used that to refill our lemonades, The servers were a bit puzzled at how our drinks magically reappeared every so often, but maybe they'd seen such things before, it was a backpackers haven after all.Next we went into an internet cafe and discovered that our airfares to Iquitos had never got through and that we would need to visit an official Avianca office to rectify the matter. We returned to our couch surfers house, watched the Bourne Ultimatum in spanish with Luiz, with a bag of classic Lays potato chips and ice cream to share.
Choquequrio - The Guidance of Guides
Setting out for the ruins at 6am and leaving Blake's large pack in the dutch's tent, with only the detachable fanny pack to carry, we quickly ascended up the mountain. It was still a challenge for me, I wasn´t exactly tip-top shape after the nights festivities, but still I progressed much more fluidly than before. After a couple of hours we made it to a stream running down from the high mountains and decided it was likely safe enough to fill our now empty water bottles with, better this we thought than pay the 14 or 16 soles for a new bottle at the next camp.A short distance later we passed a wooden gate with old flip-flops nailed into it for hinges and began walking on a dirt path passing land that had recently been cleared for growing food of various types. Then we came upon another wooden fence, where there was a
nother old woman walking between mud brick buildings. She spotted us and came to the gate, opening it with a noticeable glimmer in her smile. ¨Where are you from?¨ she asked in spanish. California we replied, ¨ahh the United States!¨ again in spanish. Welcoming us to the table she asked what we would like and we ordered soup, Blake with an egg and mine without.Seeing all the wild chickens about, happy and free, Blake sighed audibly and said in a condescending manner, ¨danny you know if there was ever a time to eat eggs it would be here and now¨ Seeing the truth in his words and in the situation, knowing how badly my muscles needed rich proteins to rebuild themselves, I agreed and joined the lady in the hut to increase our order of eggs. After all, I´m mostly a vegetarian because of my disgust with the corporate farming done in the States, and these chickens look like they've never seen the inside of a cage in their entire lives.The soup was angel hair pasta with carrots and potatoes, totally delicious, and the eggs were just as great, opening them up they were a dark and rich orange, even more so than those I remember from Germany, but that's probably just my 3 year absentee biased showing through the cracks of my memory. We thanked the lady very much for the meal and continued on up the mountain. Very shortly after that we made it to the guides house were we paid the 37 soles each to get in. I left my water there, but we still had 2 bottles left. The ruins could be seen from this part of the mountain, but we still had to hike another 20 minutes to reach the first of the terraces lining the hills.Deciding to go to the very top of the lookout first we made it to the rounded turret that looked out over the entire valley. At the end of the circle there was a sign that read, Casa do sacridol or something like that, I thought it was the house of sacrifice but that's not the translation so I can't really say. Anyways, we went down the hill to the house and got on top of the wall where the roof used to be, setting up his speakers, Blake bumped the music and we danced along the edges to the beat. At this time we were the only people in the ruins.Upon returning to the main part we met up with the dutch couple and shared travel stories. They had already been traveling for 7 months and were set to go for another 7, going next to California, Hawaii and then Japan. We asked them if they had heard about Ayahuasca and they asked if it was another hike in Peru, we explained that it was a Shamanistic plant and they quickly dismissed the idea, stating that they were tired of everyone assuming they were into drugs because they were from the Netherlands. Then they told us a story about their relative who thought he could fly on drugs and jumped off a building, becoming extremely sensitive to all stimulus in his legs, even the wind on his legs could cause extreme pain. "If that happened to me I'd just have the doctors chop my leg off and attach a bionic one." said Blake, I mostly concurred..We wished them well and headed back to the hut for more soup, and more eggs. The ruins were nice after all, but we were more interested in the pain in our bodies and the promise of returning home to our warm, dry beds in Cusco. My water bottle was just where I left it, I grabbed it and shortly after we were back at the house. This time there were two Peruvians also sitting down at the table. We joined them and introduced ourselves. The older one spoke English well and explained that he and his friend were guides for the Choquequrio ruins. Both of them were drinking some murky liquid that filled a pitcher on the table. "you want to try?" they asked. It has alcohol? I questioned after smelling the stuff. "no, no, it is all natural!" Blake and I both partook and turned to each other with a knowing glance, "it may not have alcohol but drinking it will get you drunk," Blake said aloud.Blake ordered 2 more pitchers and we very quickly got to know our new friends. They explained that what we were drinking was chicha, an ancient maze beer drank by the Incans in their own time. A pitcher was 4 soles or $1.33 it was incredibly smooth and barely tasted of alcohol, but it was most definitely getting us all drunk. The two had already had 3 or 4 pitchers before we arrived and were very open and relaxed. The younger one would interrupt whatever conversation we were having every so often and apologize for his lack of English skills, the more we drank the more frequent the apologeze became, eventually to the point of his elder taking him aside and making clear we understood his lack of communication skills, whether in English or any other form and that he should complete the experience in a slumped state of silent bliss.The elder guide suggested we descend slowly and reach the camp above the river on the other side leading back to cochora, where there would be much fewer miquitos and it would be cooler. We thanked them for the advice and for sharing the experience and descended slowly as he suggested, which was a little difficult for how loose we were in our steps, which is precisely why he suggested it. By the time we made it to the bottom it was already getting dark, but we pressed on, hoping to meet his suggestion and make it to the next camp.We had to use a headlamp in the final stretch of the climb, and when we made it to the camp there was no one there to meet us, only a dim light hanging from the inside of the hut, we called inside to greet whoever was there, but no reply was given. We went around the hut and on to one of the terraces and set up our tent, it immediately began to rain. By this time I was already showing signs of a cough, I tried my best to drink plenty of water and unfortunately did not cover myself well enough, leaving my feet and arms exposed to the many insects I allowed to enter our leaking, REI garage sale tent..
Choquequirao – A Nightcap for Nightshade
Sunrise was at 5 am, finding no reason to stay in our tent, still wet from the nights downpour and ready to go we left the small clearing and started down the actual trail leading to Choquequirao. My small toe had begun to rub against my boots the previous day and I was worried enough about it to ask Blake for an extra pair of socks and put them on as well, so we had to stop for a minute. The old mule man that we had just passed walked by and asked what was wrong, we said all was well and continued on when I was ready.Soon after that we came upon a tarantula standing still in the middle of the path, it never moved, people even told us about it later in the day, maybe it was frozen or something, we couldn't say. Also along the way to the bottom of the hill we met a couple of local Peruvians who wanted photo ops with us, so of course we obliged.Next we came upon two Canadian hikers who told us we could make it all the way to the top of the ruins in one go, but it was really quite steep and we would be dead the next day. After that we met a troop of British ex patriots living in Texas who said essentially the same thing, they also told us that there was a really nice camp before the ruins where there was good food and great views, and so we continued on down the mountain.Finally making it to the river at the bottom, we came upon a large government run camp where we signed in and asked the old man working there if he could help us with cooking the potatoes we got back in Cochora, he did and we helped him dehusk his corn. When we bought water from him it was 10 s/ for a 2.5 liter bottle, 3 times the normal price, I was confused at first and even tried to argue the point but his wizened old eyes just glazed over with a tired, unhappy look and I swallowed my tongue. Blake looked at me with lowered eye brows and said cynically, "What did you expect, were in the mountains, it's Disneyland prices.."Our potatoes were finished and I grabbed the biggest one we had and chomped down skin and all, while Blake got a couple small ones and removed the skin, mimicking oma's voice he said, "Danny, tell Blake to peel the potatoes.." just as she did all those years ago in Germany. We laughed and continued to eat. Very soon after I began to feel heavy in my stomach. A German couple walked into camp just as we were about to ascend to the top, they said we were crazy to climb in the hottest part of the day, this made us reconsider so We walked over the cliffs edge that dropped down to the river and sat there talking about our trip, our families and our lives here in South America.A few hours later we packed up, left one of our packs with the old man and headed up across the suspension bridge and to the seemingly endless switchbacks that followed. I was quickly overtaken by the heaviness in my stomach and was struggling to keep up with Blake, even though all I had to carry was the little fanny pack that disconnected from his big one. "come on Danny, you can die when we get to the next camp, just get there and die, die.." feeling the urge to vomit every "die"he uttered I asked him to refrain from any more talk of death and we continued on.We turned the corner of a long switch back and I was ready to collapse, Blake was standing in the path ahead of me without his pack on and shouted "come on were here finish with some class!" I entered the camp, ignored the old lady there greeting us and proceeded to throw up all over the rocks beside here camp. The water here was 12 soles...We set up our tent and a couple from the Netherlands joined us.The Lady made us all soup, I did my best to drink the broth but had to excuse myself to vomit yet again, she made me coca leaf tea with herbs but it didn't really help me. When night fell and i was still throwing up she kept calling me out of bed, I didn't feel like doing much of anything, plus I didn't understand what she was saying, luckily though the dutch girl translated from inside her own tent, "she wants you to drink something.."I crawled out of our tent and went over to the edge of the rocks where she handed me a large cup of clear liquid with strange herbs in it, I took a large swig and immediately cranked my neck to the side at the strength of the brew, "this is tequila!" I shouted, "sii! es Tequila!~haha" She chuckled. She said something else and again our dutch friend translated from the darkness, "she says it will kill whatever is in your stomach." Knowing the power of this vile substance I closed my eyes tight and finished what must have been 5 to 7 shots of tequila mixed with herbs unknown.I thanked her for the drink, she laughed solidly and patted me on the shoulder, returning to her witches hut hidden in the darkness beyond our tents. I too returned to my abode and feeling quite relaxed all of a sudden fell quickly to sleep...
Choquequirao - Taking on Water
When we decided to come to Cusco, it was to climb Matchu Pitchu, after arriving here in this beautiful high mountain city and talking to the people who actually live here, we've been swayed away from the "old mountain" and directed towards a different climb, one only recently discovered, known as Choquequirao, one of the last hold outs against the spanish colonization.So we headed out early from Ninoskas to catch the transport out of cusco, but that turned out to be completely unnecessary because there wasnt enough people to fill the van until almost 12 noon. There was a little hole in the wall toilet that a burly old Peruvian woman stood guard at next to us, I asked our drive how much it cost to use the toilet, he told me but i didn't understand, so he reached into his pocket shuffled through the coins he pulled out and poured the exact change into my hand. I protested but he just smiled and walked away.I would have been more grateful in the long run had we not discovered he was charging us both 10 soles ($3) more than everyone else for the ride. Or at least that's how I see it now, since the same ride back was 10 soles less... who knows.So after an hour and a half we reached the valley where a large road reconstruction project was underway. We had to wait an hour to pass but during that time we got out and followed our drivers example by partaking in the locally produced ice cream, which was essentially sugar-water frozen in thin plastic tubes that you can bite or squeeze to extract the precious chilled substance, precious only due to the heat I should add.
Hours later we made it to Curawasi where we bought mangos and baby peaches for our trek, a sad cargo list to be sure, but head strong young men we are yet, so on we went from there in a taxi to Raymon, a small little side street village where we were to get our next taxi to Cachora. Our driver quickly shuffled us into his relic Toyota wagon and drove towards Cachora without a word of price uttered. When I asked him the price he told us 30 soles, which I immediately refuted and told him 10 each, he didn't like this at all, so I told him to turn around, which he liked even less... after a somewhat intense exchange of misunderstood or not understood at all remarks we turned back to Raymond. We picked up two more locals and were on our way yet again. We coasted down the mountain, almost all the way with the engine cut off, finally making it to Cachora. When we did we saw the locals give the driver 5 soles and when we gave him 10 each he asked for 20 more! we just shook our heads and walked towards the small shop closest to us. He followed of course, every odd minute repeating his mantra, "20 more.." I gave him a baby peach and made clear nothing more would be forthcoming from us with a slightly cocked head and a tired looking 1000 yard stare. He made his way back to the relic and drove away back to the beginning of town. We got a sack of uncooked potatoes at the small shop, along with some more water, we also inquired about the mule to carry our bags but in the end decided that we would do fine without it, a mistake we would almost immediately come to understand as near tragedy.We took off down the hill and made our way on to the trail. After a few confusing forks in the road we made it to the main trail. Passing a few steers on the way, one of which lowered its head at Blake and had us both looking for the nearest tree to climb, or rock to bash its head in with, (ridiculous of course, but that's how we think) We made it to the edge of a mountain side, where the last house for miles could be seen, the sky was darkening and rain was on our mind, we asked the old couple that manned the house where we could camp, the staunch, storm weathered faces of the old couple squinted in the direction of where we were to camp, a small outcropping cleared for the cows to rest, protected by the hillside from the wind it seemed the perfect place. We camped out and laid ourselves down, as soon as we did it began to rain, the streaks of lightning across the sky were astonishing and the thunder that followed no less spectacular. We counted the intervals to determine their distances, and quickly discovered that they were happening all around us at many different distances. Trying to sleep, we quickly discovered that we were not truly sheltered from the elements, leaks sprang from every corner of our tent, one of which came right beneath my head, a small hole allowed a constant stream of water to soak my down sleeping bag. We quickly got up and tried to remedy the matter, but we had nothing to stop the leak, until I remembered my tendency to put band aids from the Seven Gables Inn in my wallet for the numerous cuts and scratches I acquired their, luckily I had one left, not to be screwed again later I tore it in half and used it to stem the icy tide of water flowing into my sleeping bag. Several other things kept us up in the night, a car stopping directly above us and staying there, lights shining into out tent, more water finding its way in, not to mention the 7 continuous hours of rain that fell on our tent and the intermittent roar of thunder piercing our ears. All in all though, we were happy to be away from the pollution and bustle of Cusco...