Week 1: Cusqeñas & Life in a Hostel

I won't deny: I am a blogger slacker.  So much has happened in the last week that I've had trouble narrowing down what it was that I wanted to write about, so pardon in advance the train of thought dribble that is the result of my late narrations.

Living in Cusco, I can imagine, must be like living in a place like San Francisco in the Free Love/Hippie days.  Backpackers, Rasta guys in dreads, gypsies, upscale tourists and locals blend to make Cusco the mecca of Peru's nightlife scene on the route to Machu Picchu.  It is more uncommon than not to be heading out to the bar at eleven at night, and many of the hostel guests are just wandering home after the breakfast hour.  Live music is everywhere, from Pearl Jam tribute bands to salsa music, small bars to discotechs, you can envelop yourself in a Cusqueña (local beer) and whatever your sounds of choice are any night of the week.  This, of course, suits me well, and I've spent many of my nights here out Gringa dancing...aka trying to salsa dance, but let's not kid ourselves, I have zero rhythm.  Although the salsa music here is likely unmatched by what one might find in Colombia, I continue to find my hips involuntarily moving to the beats of the jovial music.

Brief summary of hostel living: mostly hot showers, people from nations that I have certainly never been to, and the threaded common bond of the love for wandering down the less travelled road.  I teach my first pottery class (to children, in English) on Saturday morning, and in the meantime am bartending at Yamanya.

Thus far, I continue to be left breathless by the terrain of the Andes.  Coming from previous travel in tropical and jungle areas, I was initially taken aback by the lack in greenery.  But the more time I spend getting lost in the narrow streets of Cusco, I am finding the terra cotta and earth tones endlessly dimensional.  I started by day today with a brisk morning hike up to the edge of Cusco, passing llamas and alpacas on my way, and finishing at the blanco Jesus Cristo that overlooks Cusco for it's continued protection.

5 Necessities for Surviving Your First Days as a Loca Gringa in Cusco

1. Essie for JCrew nailpolish. It lasts, it doesn't chip, and it makes even a hiking-boot clad outfit hot.

2. 64 oz. Sigg bottle. Agua is your best friend, amigos, when you are adjusting to a high-altitude climate. With a significantly less amount of oxygen in the air, your heart must beat faster to deliver more oxygen to your tissues.  So keep that blood volume up, stave away the headaches, nausea and bloodshot ojos that pair with altitude sickness, and drink at least a couple liters of water a day.  Plus, it ain't bad for curing the other Cusco illness that typically befalls backpackers: the Pisco Sour aftermath.

3. Ear plugs.  A whole, big pack of them.  Hostel living has it's perks, but it also has people stumbling in at all hours, guests talking outside in the halls, that one guy (I'm not naming any names) that claims he doesn't snore, but every night it sounds like a ship coming into port.  Do yourself a favor and get a good night's sleep here and there.

4. A journal.  My favorite is a little leather-bound journal I picked up in Costa Rica that has natural paper leaves.  I bring it nearly everywhere I go here so I can jot down notes of places I've been, reflections on my experiences, people's names and e-mails, songs I'm coveting and books I'd like to read.  It's even worth having your bunk mates write something funny in it here and there so you can look back and really feel their personality come to life on paper once again.

5. A sturdy lock and photocopies of your passport & travel medical insurance card.  Listen closely: check into your hostel or hotel, put your passport in your locker, lock it up and walk away.  All you will ever need is a photocopy (even for a cell phone contract.)  Not to go without mentioning, a lock that you can set yourself trumps a key lock any day...nothing is worse than losing your key and being locked out of your necessities in the middle of the noche.

New Beginnings

As my plane was descending over los apus of Cusco, it was as if the fear and trepidation I had held the last two weeks melted away.  The newfound sensation of calm was more likely a result of exhaustion- I had spent nearly two days en route to my future home- versus truly coming to terms with the end result of my decision to brave this new world.  Whether due to the lack of sleep or the lack of oxygen, as Cusco is more than 14,000 ft above sea level, I disembarked the plane with confidence.  I know this place, I know this language, I know that I am brave.

Well, maybe I am still trying to figure out the brave part.

Either way, this blonde gringa (with hair as unruly as ever after dos dias sans shower and plane-sleep) gathered my luggage, negotiated with the taxi driver, and made my way to Yamanya, my new home for the next month.  My bartending/whatever-the-heck-they-want-me-to-do position at Yamanya was a result of some savvy blog-stalking of Cam's blog, where the ex-pat Aussie reveals the ups and downs of her journey infiltrating the social and economic life of Cusco and the opening of her own hostel, Yamanya.  After some pretty lengthy e-mails (and having dear Cam call me una loca on a few occasions), she agreed to give me room and board here in exchange for work while I get my feet wet in Cusco.

Living in a hostel: best. decision. ever.  To give those of you an idea of hostel living, it's not always a cardboard box situated next to a rooster farm (see: Paracas, June trip, not so fun).  Hostels in Cusco can be anywhere from a twenty-four hour rave party to a dirty room with anti-social travelers.  Yamanya falls in the middle, keeping quiet hours so the staff can get some shut-eye, but also a beautiful bar boasting happy hours, mojitos, and a healthy helping of laughing staff at any given moment.  The hostel is a mosaic of colors and paintings, courtyards, even vessel sinks in the bathrooms.  Yet, dirt cheap, it attracts the best of backpackers from all over the world.

Bunked in the staff room with my fellow Yamanya-ers, I hadn't been here more than an hour before I crawled into a top bunk and proceeded to pass. the. f. out...not two hours later I was awoken by my now friends laughing at how I must sleep all the time.  Crawling out of my feather-nest, I felt as though I made friends for a lifetime in minutes.  Re-reading that sentence, I take full responsibility for the lame-ness that I just exhibited, but it's the truth.  Sara from Seattle, Niall from northern England, Nivas from Peru, Rielly, also from Seattle, and another man from Chile- with all of us combined we could write our own version of a South America Lonely Planet book.

So far I have gotten lost, spent my first night in Cusco dancing in a bar to salsa music until 3:30 in the morning, eaten as much street food as I can get my hands on (whilst avoiding traveller's diarrhea, thank you stomach of steel), wrote journal entries in the Plaza del Armas under the shadows of the looming basilicas that frame the square, nursed Cusequena hangovers with peach-filled croissants for s/.1, spent nights with my Peruano friends laughing at my gringa dancing, learned to play Sapo, purchased a cell phone that is worse than my 1999 Nokia (that I still haven't figured out how to use)...and throughout all of this, I have felt a greater sense of peace and happiness than I've felt in a long time.

Or maybe it's the lack of oxygen.

Testing, testing 1-2-3...

(Tap, tap, tap on microphone...)

Right now, I can only truthfully admit 3 things to you:

1) I have had altogether way too much key lime pie. The "topping it off" last bites really sent me over the edge, and although my stomach was drunk with delight at first indulgences, now it's just left feeling stuffed like a Thanksgiving roast.

2) See #1. Further impairments/side effects from said pie include writers block and foggy brain.

3) When it comes to web editing and blogging, if I were to describe myself as clueless, it would be an understatement.  So please bear with me as I try to figure out this new world of social media as I simultaneously trek and photograph/chronicle my travels across S.A.


Ok, I lied, there's a fourth.  I can't imagine that if I come even close to fulfilling the aspirations of this trip that I will have enough time to get in touch with everyone back in the U.S. that I would like to: so thank you in advance for letting me be an e-mail slacker and contact virtually all of you at once via LG.