Cuzco and Maccu Picchu were a story of impossible, ancient mortar. That is to say, the Incas did not use mortar. They used magic. After a 12 hour bus ride (in which more than one pickle per hour was consumed) Nathaniel and I excited Bolivia for good (only one day over the visa limit!) and arrived in the ancient capital of the Incan empire. There was a peculiar misty light in Cuzco, which strangely seemed to sharpen the edges of things... and many stairs. Many, many stairs. 123 stairs to get to our hostel, in fact. Magic mortar mingled with modernity on the city streets, and we enjoyed museums and wandering and markets.
And then we journeyed to the iconic ruins of Maccu Picchu. We did the Extreme Budget Version (total cost: $100). This is what the Extreme Budget Version of Maccu Picchu entails: On the first day we awoke at 3:42 a.m. to take a series of harrowing taxi rides to a hydroelectric plant in the middle of the jungle where we had to walk on some railroad tracks for three hours to get to the town at the base of the iconic ruins. Exhausted, we fell asleep at 7:00 p.m., only to get up the next day at 3:42 a.m. to sprint up 600 vertical meters of stairs to be the first people in line at Maccu Picchu so we can climb another mountain (i.e. more stairs). It was crazy, but it was beautiful. We communed with llamas. Nathaniel juggled. I really have no idea what the Incas were thinking building a city up there with the clouds and lots of vertical cliffs, but wowzers. Even after so much travel I am still overwhelmed by these "postcard moments."
We splurged on train tickets to return to Cuzco, where we proceeded to treat ourselves to full body massages with hot rocks and pedicures for $15. That's right, my toenails are now something verging on hot pink. We finished Philip Pulman's His Dark Materials trilogy on a park bench in the pigeon-filled Cuzco plaza, I baked banana bread, and then we took an absolutely mind-numbing 22 hour bus ride to Lima. (I actually wanted to strangle myself with the complimentary blanket after we had to watch the ad about the award-winning prescription lens company for the 27th time... but we made it).
And now we're in Lima, in a hostel overrun with delightful hippies that get by selling hand-made crafts. It smells unmistakably like the ocean here, and it's cuz the Pacific's only a few blocks away. We've run along the seafront in the mornings (so much oxygen!), seen an extremely excellent ancient library that monks used to use, and failed at visiting two museums (par for the course). And today is our last day in South America. Tomorrow we fly to Chicago... what? I really can't believe it. But rituals help. You know, Meaningful Things like blowing out candles or wearing robes. So, after some consideration, we decided to commemorate the past seven and a half months with flight.
...and then we flew. Or more technically, paraglided (paraglid?). I believe that my experience of those 12 minutes--those moments spent hanging silently over the Lima coastline with my trusty parachute pilot Marcelo--is the closest I will ever come to understanding what it is like to be a bird. Every flying dream I've ever had merged with reality as I watched my feet soar over city streets and regarded premium Lima pent-house apartments up close. Walking is so bumbling and lame in comparison.
And tomorrow I get to fly in a roaring mechanical behemoth; a machine that will bear me back to my mother country. It really is strange. I find myself wishing for something concrete to lend it all meaning... When Nathaniel and I finished reading The Amber Spyglass out loud, there was a whole page imprinted simply with two words: "The End." There were ornate designs squiggling above and below those words. It was almost monumental. How can you find that in life? I sure don't know. Instead of two clear words with text ornaments, I know that life will give me an overwhelming whirlwind of airports and friends and family and places, and that I will be left grasping for threads to orient me in the flood. I'll unpack my backpack, start thinking about my summer job, say goodbye to Nathaniel. Be confused for a while. But it has been beautiful. I don't know if I'll ever make sense of it, but I have flown. And I will fly. Tomorrow, and again and again.
