Day One: San Francisco to Lima, Peru
We left the city at 3:30 a.m. for SFO, got on a nine hour flight with a layover in San Salvador and landed in Peru at 8:00 p.m., Lima time. We had no hostel reservation, no city map, no taxi pick-up and a fairly small Spanish vocabulary.
In the dark, Lima felt hostile and overwhelming. We came to find out in the light, it was still hostile and overwhelming.
By sheer luck and force of will, we talked down an unofficial taxi driver to take us to a random hostel for about $20. Originally, the quote was close to $60. We found out later that these unofficial taxis tend to be the ones that kidnap tourists or steal all your things.
In the hour ride to the neighborhood of Miraflores (the “upscale” and “safe” neighborhood), we learned at least ten new Spanish words. Our driver could only say “hello” in English. Turns out, the majority of Lima’s population didn’t know any English.
We were dropped off in front of a barricaded, high security door we couldn’t figure out how to open, so we walked around the park next door, Parque Kennedy, found a hostel called Flying Dog and walked in. Luckily, they had a private room with a double bed and a bathroom. Unluckily, it didn’t come with toilet paper. We threw our backpacks on the bed and headed for the streets, looking around for pollo y agua. Feeling the stares, the darkness, the noise, and the $250 around my waist I just wanted to go to bed.
Clint: It’s okay to be overwhelmed Leia, that’s normal. Don’t judge anything on the first day.
His advice was solid, but he was totally wrong.
Day Two: Lima, Peru: Miraflores
Still feeling California time, we slept in way too late. When we woke we knew we had to get a new hostel and some coffee. I was still adjusting, so we made the Gringo move: Starbucks.
Starbucks was right on the edge of Parque Kennedy, dubbed by locals “Gringo Ground Zero.” We didn’t like it. So we wandered to a Lonely Planet recommendation: Hitchhiker’s Hostel. Surrounded by a twelve-foot tall wall with an electric fence around the top, we wondered if it was built to keep out the velociraptors.
Within these walls, I finally felt safe. This neighborhood was also much more beautiful with its cobble stone streets and massive bogenvelias. We managed to get a room using hand signals and our newly learned word “Cama,” and found a new coffee/breakfast shop: KulCafe.
The rest of the day continued as such, a little wandering and little errands: agua, withdrawing Soles and settling into our new accommodations. This led to the discovery of Clint’s piece of heaven: the chocolate museum. A highlight of our day, we were probably there for at least three hours, reading every sign, tasting every chocolate tea, liquor and bean, and then ordering some Mayan Chocolate Caliente and Cacao Tea.
Suddenly hungry, we made a trek across town to the finest restaurant, stopping for ocean views and sunscreen application. We ordered the traditional Pisco Sours to start.
Clint: I’m going to do something I have always wanted to do at an upscale restaurant.
Me: What?!
Clint: Order all of the appetizers.
Delicious food and great conversation later, we walked back to the hostel for our first “safe” night, a few Spanish lessons and a full dorm room.
Day Three: Lima, Peru: Lima Centro
Today we wanted to see Lima Centro, the busiest part of the city. We still hadn’t met a single person who spoke English, so figuring out how to get there was rough. I wanted to take a bus, so we walked to Gringo-land, Parque Kennedy, to eat some bread and cheese and figure out the transportation system.
The first thing you need to know about Lima, is that they have a major cat problem.
The second thing you need to know about Lima is that people aren’t friendly. So when Luis came up and sat down, we were a bit nervous.
The 70-year-old musician/artist came over to the blonde Gringos and wanted to practice his English. I pulled out my Spanish handbook and we went through it together, Clint and I helping Luis with his English reading and Luis helping us with our verbs. It was an amazing moment. He also gave us directions to the bus stop we needed to get to downtown Lima.
After being on a bus in the middle of Lima, I will never ever call someone a bad driver again.
In a crowd of people at the Parada del Autobus, you waited for one of the many buses to screech to a brief halt in front of you, yell at the bus “doorman” if he was going to your destination while he herded you on to an already overcrowded bus. Before you were even fully inside, the bus would take off again, weaving at high speeds through traffic, nearly hitting everything and everybody, and screeching to sudden halts unexpectedly. All this for one sole, about 30 cents in American money.
Naturally, we sat in front.
When we reached our bus stop we were gently nudged off the bus by the locals and told to turn right down an alley and keep walking.
This dark, dirty, grungy alley didn’t seem right. There was no site of the destination, Plaza de Armas, at the end. So we walked fast and I kept my fanny pack in front.
When we found the square, we took a few pictures and toured the San Francisco Cathedral and the catacombs underneath, found a few English speaking friends (Canadians), figured out how to take the bus back to Miraflores, walked back to our hostel and realized we hadn’t eaten all day.
Cross and starved, we went to the first place we could find and ordered Ceviche. It was terrible. We also panicked that it might kill us.
We went back to the hostel for an early night, but it didn’t happen. That was Raphael’s fault.
Raphel was staying with his girlfriend at our hostel. He was loud, extremely warm, talkative, Brazilian and he spoke perfect English. He asked us out for a walk. We ended up eating more Ceviche and drinking some Pisco Sours he managed to get for free.
The best part of hanging out with Raphael was that he spoke Spanish, made fun of the tourist attractions, didn’t let us get ripped off and made everything fun. It was also great to walk around in a pack of four. It felt safer.
That night I thought, we could do anything with Raphael. He is our Spanish-speaking-life-line.
Day Four: Lima, Peru – Pachacamac Archeological Site
January 9, 2014, was one of the scariest days of my life.
We got on a bus with the Brazilians for a destination neither Clint nor I had ever heard about: Pachacamac. On that first bus, I was full of energy and excitement. We made friends with a local student on the bus who helped us with directions, practiced his English, and said he was “embarrassed” when a Peruvian band hopped on board and started playing obnoxiously in the bus aisle.
We had to switch buses in a freeway underpass, the dirtiest, most crowded place I’ve ever seen.
Our Peruvian friend told me: “Don’t go to Pachacamac, Leia. People have guns. Your stuff will get stolen. You shouldn’t go. Be safe.”
I asked him to come with us, but he couldn’t. His girlfriend would be mad. He could only help us find the next bus.
In the freeway underpass we stood with our backs against the wall so we wouldn’t be taken from behind while Raphael ran around trying to find the right bus. We had three Peruvians and a Nigerian taxi driver yelling at us in Spanish and English.
“You Gringos are stupid! Let me take you in my taxi!”
“No he is a con artist! Let me take you!”
“Get on the red bus, you idiots!”
I tried not to let my fear show in my face, but I wanted to go home.
From the freeway underpass our bus sped down the freeway and showed us what Lima was really like, away from the relatively safe downtown. Gripping Clint’s hand in the back of the bus I couldn’t believe the misery and poverty I saw. I hated it. But I also knew that if I made it through the day, it was the type of experience that would change me.
We hit our “stop” about an hour into the ride. We were on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere. About a quarter of the mile down the road stood a lone ticket office.
We bought tickets, hats and a tour guide and set out into the sand. On every hill and corner a guard stood with a loaded AK-47. I asked our guide why there were so many guards.
“To make you feel safe. To make you feel like you are at home.”
I felt like the Gringos were the ones the guards didn’t trust.
When we had seen the temples and the Inca trails and the virgin burial ground, we decided to head back to Miraflores before dark. Raphael tried to bargain with a taxi driver. He also tried to hitch a few free rides in the back of random trucks.
At that point we wondered why we whole-heartedly trusted this Brazilian.
Back at the hostel, I sat outside, sipping tea and talking with Roman the French guy, Louis the Aussie, Clint and the Brazilians. I’d never been so exhausted. We sipped on some Cacao liquor and decided to take a taxi to Lima’s famous water fountain park.
The park had seven very large, interactive water fountains and one with holographic displays and music. Raphael got us bargain prices on the taxis and Clint and I fell in love with Louis. You really can’t beat a good Aussie.
Day Five: Lima, Peru to Cusco, Peru
We planned to spend seven days in Lima, but it really wasn’t somewhere we wanted to spend any more time. So we joined Louie on his flight to our next destination in Peru’s Sacred Valley: Cusco.
Cusco is known for it’s stone streets, stone buildings, proximity to Machu Picchu and altitude sickness. From the Cusco air space we could already tell 11,000 feet was going to be rough.
We got off the plane and walked till we were out of breath, which was about 20 feet.
Cusco was a pleasant surprise, so refreshing after Lima. The city is beautiful and the views unmatchable. We checked into a three-week-old hostel at Raphael’s recommendation. We had our own bathroom, a double bed and a view, newly painted bright blue, orange and white courtyard with a garden and a friendly host family. Paradise.
We immediately went in search for altitude sickness’ natural enemy: Coca tea.
We were easily tired and out of breath on our walk to the local super Mercado. We also got followed home by a stray dog (dogs in Cusco are like the cats in Lima), and ran into Louis.
Against better judgment, we went out to grab a beer. One beer quickly turned into two beers and a Gringo hunt. We wanted to meet English speakers. We quickly picked out a place we thought they would all gravitate towards: Paddy’s Pub.
As expected, the place was filled with Aussies, Kiwis, Brits, Dutch and Canadians.
Day Six: Cusco, Peru: Planning Machu Picchu
Because we are planning everything by ear, we sometimes have to take a planning day. This was the day we decided that we didn’t want to just see Machu Picchu; we wanted to hike the Inca Trail. So we went out to find a tour guide.
TripAdvisor rates Llama Path highly, so we went all in. We leave on the morning of the 14th, we rented sleeping bags and a porter, spent extra money on Machu Picchu mountain tickets and wandered around Cusco trying to find a phone for two hours.
Apparently, all Peruvian phones only call within Peru. And we needed to call my bank.
It was a stressful day but we finally got it all straightened out and just started walking around the plaza in the sunlight, taking pictures of golden statues and trying to re-gather our energy for our evening plans with Louis.
Maybe it was the altitude or the time spent in Lima, but both Clint and I were exhausted. We knew we needed to see at least one tourist attraction that day so we picked the Coca Museum.
I’d say the Incas were addicts.
Louis, Clint and I had been craving good food, so we met at the nicest restaurant in town, a four star Gaston place. Louie was the only one smart enough to bring a dress shirt. We ate Alpaca and Guinea Pig (Cuy), Patagonia Malbec and Coca Pisco Sours.
It was the only meat I’d eaten in four days. I’ve never been so sick of bread.
We left the restaurant for the acclaimed Museo del Pisco, which was actually a bar, and from there made it out to the famous Gringo party stop: Loki Hostel.
We happily stumbled home. Cusco was the Peru we expected.
Day Seven: Cusco, Peru: Kurumi Hostel
My altitude sickness was delayed, until today. I woke up and thought I was going to die. The pressure, the nausea and the exhaustion was overwhelming. I couldn’t even get out of bed.
We had great plans to travel over to Pisac, but instead, we drank Coca tea, slept and tried to recover.
Our big outing of the day was walking down to Starbucks so I could sit and be sick while Clint used the Wi-Fi to plan some next steps. We met the best Dutch men there and talked to them for an hour or so about Bitcoin, tech PR, cultural perspectives and Burning Man.
Feeling nausea again, we walked back to Kurumi Hostel so I could lie down.
We were pleasantly surprised to find Kurumi had new guests, a nomadic family of three.
The wife/mother was a Shaman and a healer, the husband/dad was an ex-pat who had just opened a hostel in the Andes, worked in natural housing design and collected animal relics, and the 5-year-old son traveled more than most 55-year-olds and was smarter than most 15-year-olds.
They were some of the coolest people we’ve met.
Suffering from altitude sickness, the Shaman offered to let me use some crystals for healing. I went into her room and she showed me her collection of crystals and taught me some of their properties. I set the shakra crystal on my third eye and closed my eyes.
We talked with them for a long time. I was fascinated with the crystals and Jackson, the 5-year-old, was fascinated with Clint. So Clint played Go Fish and I learned about my Third Eye.
We left the hostel for our last adventure of the day and our first meal: Street Food. We set out with nothing particular in mind and passed an outdoor fair wit a delicious smelling booth that sold a Peruvian chicken noodle soup for 4 soles.
It was some of the best food we’ve eaten this whole trip. There is also a possibility it may have some major repercussions. We both think it would be worth it.
We walked back to the hostel and spent the rest of the night fighting altitude sickness and trying to decide what to do with our next six weeks.
When we left the U.S. it was shocking to our friends and family that we could leave our jobs and responsibilities for two months. When we got down to Peru and talked with the French and the Aussies and the Kiwis and the Brits and the Germans, it was shocking we were only traveling for two months.
The maps have lied to you. South America is massive.