I trekked the Amazon, salsa-ed at 3,399 meters above sea level in Cusco, completed the Lares Trek, hiked up Machu Picchu and Waynapicchu, dived (in my underwear!) into Lake Titicaca, cycled down the world's most dangerous road (to 'fess - halfway only la) in the Bolivian Andes, gone through a hell of a bumpy ride, complete with dust mite bites, across the salt plains and desert at Salar de Uyuni (exposed a boob or two along the way!), stole a woollen blanket from the Salt Hotel, froze my feet off in a supposedly heated bus on my way to La Paz, tumbled down Colca Canyon and huffed and puffed my way back up, whizzed across the Nazca Lines, risked marine bird droppings at the Islas Ballestas, ate a worm alive, chewed on cuy (guinea pig) and drank a couple of Pisco Sours and Colca Sours before I found my way to Huaraz to meet the Chos.
See what I would do to meet my favourite Singaporeans in South America!
Case Summary:
Introductions M and I crashed at the hostel after an 8-hour bus ride running through the night from Lima. We were woken up by familiar sounds of "Hola!" and "Wake up!" and greeted by D's camera on video mode. I certainly didn't look appropriate (and definitely not M ha-ha (see video below)) for the camera, but what the heck! I was finally meeting D & Y in South America! I had no idea how much I missed the sight and sounds of Singaporeans until I met D & Y. I love Singapore! I love Singaporeans more! I love my buddies, D & Y even more! Ah-bu-den! Weeks of interacting only with Ang Mohs, Guai Los and Lao Wais restricted me to
(1) speaking only well-articulated English; (2) polite conversation about whether a certain game is known as football or soccer; and (3) boring soliloquy (not mine) about "me, myself and I".
Oh, how I missed rattling on and on in Singlish and having people responding with the same.
Causation Bless M for choosing to watch the EPL game that afternoon on his own so that I could catch up with D & Y. It was surreal that the 3 of us could be seated together in a little creperie in Huaraz chatting about our travels in South America. I have D & Y to thank for travelling South America: Back on 20 July, my boss kindly granted my birthday wish for a long break from work for my big 3-0 (yes, I was getting all philosophical about the meaning of life as my expiry date drew near). I had spent recent years of my life being busy from one deal to another, and it was pretty scary stuff having so much free time at hand. Thank heavens the stars must have aligned when D extended an invite for me to join them on their trip of a lifetime while I ponder about my existence.
The rest is history.
Fine! I will watch the game on my own! *manly pout*
Santa Cruz Trek 0.5 As planned, we started on the Santa Cruz Trek the next day. We equipped ourselves with walking sticks, thermals, lots of toilet paper, hand sanitizer, chocolate and most importantly, stupendous socks! One would have thought we were more than adequately prepared to complete the trek.
Unfortunately, Y suffered from altitude sickness on Day 1 of the the trek. Poor D had to carry all of Y's stuff all the way to the campsite even though he was suffering from altitude migraine as well. I offered the help of M, my personal "alpaca" but D bravely trudged on. (Two years of NS creates Singapore heroes like D!) So Day 1 was certainly no winter wonderland. It also didn't help that one of the trekkers with us most annoying - whenever Y or I spoke to the guide, she would repeat in her words what we said to the guide. It then occurred to us that she was trying to translate our English into her English.
In the morning of Day 2 of the trek, D & Y decided to turn back and return to Huaraz. They said it was not worth suffering any further to make it to the pass. I knew it was more like D didn't want to see Y fall more ill, and Y didn't want to see D prolong his pain as he would have to carry all of their stuff, his and hers, up the pass. (Awwww!)
When D & Y excused themselves from the breakfast table to pack, the thought of spending my last few precious days in South America with the snotty racist and her friends was cringe-worthy enough to send me running to my tent to split our stuff between M and me. And so I decided to follow my countrymen back to Huaraz. Although I felt a little terrible for ditching M, I took comfort in the fact that my friends could do with some Ching-action on the potentially boring trek home. I was a little disappointed that I had to give up the trek halfway, because I am usually too proud to give up on anything I embark on. But I am glad I chose to turn round with D & Y as the way back turned out to be quite a little adventure!
Ditched!
The way home
Follow me! Ching leads the way (up the wrong mountain though)
Are we there yet....
.... nooo
It was rainy, gloomy and very cold, the trail was full of mud and poop (animal only I hope), and Y was definitely still struggling with her altitude sickness. With a little team work - I paced the group, D carried Y's stuff and helped her along, and Y doing her best to keep going, we managed to find our way back to our first stop at Vaqueria in 4 hours. To put things in perspective, we took more than 4 hours on the same trail the day before. Us 3 little Singaporeans certainly knew our way around the mountains of Cordillera Blanca!
At Vacqueria, we joined a Dutch couple and their trekking guides who had been waiting for 3 hours, to catch a taxi to our second stop at Yungay. It continued to rain heavily, we were cold and exhausted from the earlier trek, and there was no taxi in sight.
I was wondering if we could actually make it back to Huaraz before nightfall, when lo and behold, a chicken truck pulled up in front of us! The truck was already ferrying a local family and their farm produce. After some negotiation, the driver agreed to take all of us back to Yungay for a small fee. I probably wouldn't have taken a ride in a truck like this in Singapore, but hey, we were in South America and couldn't wait to get to a hot shower and warm bed! Ailing Y took the only front passenger seat, and the rest of us hopped on the back of the truck to join the locals.
The truck's lack of suspension made it a helluva roller coaster ride down the mountains! There were no proper seats at the back of the truck, so I moved from one sack of farm produce to another each time I fell off a sack. First I sat on the melons, then the corn bags, before the local ladies kindly invited me to cosy up with them under a huge woolen blanket. Poor D had to contend with the chicken coops, consequence of which made for another good story. Meanwhile, I chatted animatedly with the local ladies, even though I didn't understand a single word they spoke. Best conversation ever! Lots of laughter and charades :)
The girls then fell in love with my gold coloured casio watch thinking it was made of real gold; they each asked me for the time every 5 to 10 minutes just so that they could take a peek. It was really heartwarming that they were so generous about sharing their blanket, time, space and culture (one of the old ladies gave me some basic geography lessons in Spanish - she pointed out to a lagoon and coo-ed "la-goo-naa!").
Outside, the drizzle turned into a heavy downpour which then became snow. We were a scene right out of Travel & Living.
Judgment:
I am thankful to have spent such an amazing time with D & Y. It was very heartening to witness husband and wife care for and support each other the way D & Y did. They made me realize what a life partnership is about - D leads and decides when Y is ill, and Y cares for D's well-being when he does the heavy-lifting, they take turns with daily tasks and absolutely enjoy each other's company. Each is incomplete without the other. I recall telling M that D & Y are not typical Singaporeans, they do stuff, they create a life and they are wonderful people to be around. I have utmost admiration for them in making this trip happen and am inspired to do something this big for myself too. I wish them only the best for the rest of the journey!
You know how your parents warned you never to talk to strangers?
Yeah, their words of wisdom are evergreen and we should have heeded them. Or maybe not.
For if we had, we would never have found out about an old Inca site just 20 minutes by bus from Huaraz.
But first, we had to decide what to do with Nicholas.
We had met Nicholas at one of the town squares in Huaraz, right outside the office of the trekking company whom we had signed up for the Santa Cruz trek with. The morning after returning from the trek, we headed to a restaurant called Piccolo's at the square for breakfast. Later that afternoon, after hanging our super-clean-super-fragrant laundry up to dry, we headed back to the square, where Ching and I checked out some handwoven wristbands at the craft stands. Dan was at some secret location at that time (okay, so he was in the toilet) and not with us. So, two Asian chicks walking around on their own were bound to attract some attention in the male-dominated square (yes, vendors weaving friendship bands in Peru are mostly male. Surprise!)
A lanky guy with dirty-blond hair (as in the hair wasn't a pure golden blond, not that it was dirty. Frankly, I wouldn't know) called out to us, asking where we were from. Proud as always to flaunt our homeland, we replied and continued to chat about sitting out on the Santa Cruz trek and waiting for Ching's friend, Mark, to return to Huaraz with the rest of the group. Nicholas helpfully suggested that we visit the Inca ruins at Waka Huayin, an easy 20-minute bus ride from Huaraz. No trekking required, he promised. Ching, Queen of Excitement, immediately exclaimed "Really? We should go!" Thinking that "we" meant just the 2 of us and Dan, I wholeheartedly agreed.
The next thing we knew, Nicholas replied in one smooth breath, "Sure. I only start work at 4pm tomorrow, I can bring you there."
Oh dear. How do we politely refuse his offer, given that he was the one who told us about Waka Huayin - so we obviously didn't know how to get there on our own - and we didn't want to appear rude by refusing his company. Just then, Dan reappeared. We filled him in on Waka Huayin and together, tried to suss out this Nicholas character through asking more questions:
Where and what was he working as? Oh, he said, I'm a chef at Piccolo's.
So why wasn't he working today? Oh, he said, it's my day off.
Where was he from and how long had he been in Huaraz? He spoke good English, we added. Oh, he said, I'm Chilean-French. I've been here for 6 months. Before that, I worked as a chef in Australia and Bali. I just bought a piece of land here and I'm saving up to build a hotel.
We invited him to join us for dinner that night to find out more about the next day's itinerary, and also, our Chilean-French-Living-in-Huraz volunteer guide. But not before quickly consulting our guidebooks and online travel guides to confirm that Waka Huayin truly existed (Yes, it did. Phew!) En route to the restaurant, Nicholas pointed out which street snacks we should try, he asked the vendors for a bean or 2 for us to sample, he gestured to restaurants that served with good food (trust him, he's a chef!) and which pub to go to for Pisco Sours (the equivalent of our Singapore Sling.) Our host displayed very friendly behaviour throughout the evening. Over dinner, he proved his detailed knowledge of Bali and Indonesian cuisine - no reason for us to doubt him there. We figured that with the majority of tourists just using Huaraz as a base to trek the Cordillera Blanca and never actually spending time in town, Nicholas didn't get much English-speaking company to hang out with, so he was just a friendly, harmless, lonely dude stuck in this little town while trying to realise his hotel dream.
After more chatting, he announced, again in one smooth breath, "So tomorrow, I've planned for us to leave for Waka Huayin at 8am, then soak in the hot springs at Chancos (used by the ancient Incas themselves years ago!) and then lunch with an Andean family thereafter. OK?"
Whaaaaat? This was going to take many more hours than we had planned on spending with him. Plus now we had to cosy up with him in a hot pool, in our swimsuits. "Okaaaaay," we replied as our minds whirred, pondering on our next step, and to buy time, replied "we can consider doing all that after Waka Huayin."
Nicholas did not pay for his share of the dinner that night. We scurried back to our hostel room, wondering what to make of him:
Maybe he had no money and was trying to live off tourists by bringing them out for dinner and making them pay for him. Maybe it was the same for the ruins, the hot springs, the lunch - we would have to pay for his share.
Maybe he was a bad guy and has a group of accomplices waiting to rob (and rape!) us at the ruins. Ching had just watched the movie, Taken, about tourist kidnappings and was getting a bad case of jitters. And they will set up Bodega Ching Ching and Bodega Ji Lin, she wailed. (Ching had earlier asked us what the Spanish word 'bodega' meant in English, cos she saw the word in every other store name. Dan told her it meant brothel. It really means 'warehouse' or in reference to drinks, 'cellar'.)
Maybe he wasn't even a chef at Piccolo's, but a sly cheat preying on tourists.
Maybe he really was a good guy, bored with the local daily grind, and wanting some new company.
We considered not turning up the next morning, but that would have been rude. We had to honour our given word; commit to what we had promised. The next morning, we scuttled down to the square at 7am even though we were due to meet Nicholas only at 8am. We scouted around for more information:
We asked the staff at Piccolo's whether Nicholas existed. Oh, they said, the Chilean-French chef? Yes he works here, but won't be in till 4pm today. Good. Check.
We asked the owner of a nearby eatery whether it was safe to go to Waka Huayin without a professional tour guide. Oh, he said, yes yes, Huaraz and the surrounding towns are very safe. Muy tranquilo. Good. Check.
And there are hot springs at Chancos? Oh, he said, yes yes, very safe to go to on your own too. Good. Check.
For good measure, we took down directions to Waka Huayin and Chancos from the hotel reception and also penned a note for Mark at the trekking agency, telling him where we had gone to, who we had gone with, our expected time of return and instructed him to call the police and search for us if we did not return by 4pm.
Nicholas turned up at 8am, as promised. But while Ching and Dan went into the trekking agency to leave the note for Mark, Nicholas disappeared. For a good 5 to 10 minutes.
We saw our chance. We left without him. We tried to convince ourselves that there was no need to feel bad. After all, we waited, didn't we? After all, he had already wrangled a free meal from us the night before, right?
We made it to Waka Huayin without much problem. A local woman pointed us to the ruinasatop the hill. We enjoyed the scenic hike (well, it was definitely harder than just walking)tothe viewpoint, marked by a giant crucifix.
We followed a well-marked trail with hints of ancient Inca presence - low stone walls and white path markers. Munching on leftover high-energy snacks from the trek - chocolate bars and crackers.
Here, I felt well enough to walk alongside Ching and not behind everyone else like on the Santa Cruz trek! Those grey piles of stones scattered throughout the fields were all part of the ruins.
Proof that I was feeling great: we were in the mood to take silly photos. Pretending to be rabbits. Guess whose hare-brained idea that was.
The Three Amigos. I've learnt to appreciate mountains from afar. No need to suffer for days to get nearer the mountains for this.
Ching explored the panorama and colour-select functions on her camera for the first time. And it was then, gazing over the grasslands, that we realised that the main part of the Inca ruins were...
.... BELOW us! In fact, the temple which we had come to see was a mere 65m from the bus stop! At least we had a really good view from the hills and a full 2 hours worth of uphill exercise.
Some funny stick insect with a pointy snout trying to hitch a ride downhill on our bag
Back at the foot of the hill, outside the real ruins, which we were too tired to explore by then
Cho Cho is the local name for a type of lentil. And no, that's not a good choice of name for a future kid. Cho Cho Cho does not sound too glam!
We hurried back to Huaraz for a late lunch. We had wanted to make our way to Chancos for the hot springs, which would have stretched our return to town till 6pm or so. We didn't want to invite more trouble by having a worried Mark rally the entire Huaraz police force and storm into Piccolo's kitchen to haul up Nicholas and search the hills for signs of us.
So what had happened to Nicholas?
Well, he turned up at our hostel just as we were having lunch with Mark, looking tired and terribly sunburned.
Look, he claimed, I waited for you, and walked back and forth between the square and your hostel the whole afternoon until I got sunburned. He gestured to the waitress and ordered a bottle of mineral water for himself. We looked at his painful red skin and felt like scums of the earth for distrusting him.
Oh, we claimed, we had waited for him after he disappeared. We even went to look for him. We thought he was gone for the day. Without him, we had to painstakingly (with our limited grasp of Spanish) ask for directions and find our own way there.
We all agreed that it was a case of missed meetings and misunderstandings, and that all was soothed between us.
Then he dropped another bomb:
Oh, he said, you have to pay the Andean family 75 soles for lunch. Cos I told them that you were going and they had to spend money to prepare lunch for you. You pay me, and I will pass the money to them.
What? We now had to pay US$25 to an "Andean family" whom we never saw, for food that we would never eat? Our minds whirred furiously. Finally, Ching (that clever girl!) replied, "Why don't you tell the Andean guy to deliver the food to us. We can have it for dinner." Nicholas promptly agreed and jumped out of his seat to "call the Andean guy now to tell him." Nicholas did not pay for his mineral water.
At the end of the day, we got the food - a simple meal of stir-fried meat and vegetables with white rice and a salad. Was it really cooked and delivered by the Andean family? Or did Nicholas whip up the cheap meal in Piccolo's kitchen (he's a chef after all) and laughingly pocketed our US$25? Easy money for him. I told Ching not to think too much - we would never know the real answer. Upon making the delivery, Nicholas offered to prepare an Indonesian breakfast for us at Piccolo's the next day. We never turned up for breakfast there. We avoided the square like plague. We had had enough of Mr Friendly and his cordial invitations.
Dan and I went to Piccolo's later that afternoon to say goodbye to Nicholas. We didn't want to part on bad terms.
We left Huaraz that night still not knowing what to make of Nicholas. Was he a bored foreigner whose life we happened to walk into at the square? Was he just a friendly guy looking for a few friendly faces to spend the day with? Or was he preying on tourists, sponging off them for free meals and excursions? Were his intentions good or bad? Pure or evil? Who was he really?
While I can be like any other slob at home, I do have some remnants of my army days still programmed in me. I remember those days when we would return from a mission or exercise, and the first thing we would do (despite being up all night, moving swiftly through the jungle brush to our objective, then striking hard and fast) would be to clean our equipment. Rifles, signal sets, all equipment was cleaned up even with camouflage still on our faces. Next would come a hastily cooked packet of instant noodles over a bunsen stove. Then the shower, then finally, blissful rest.
I'm no longer in the army now. Haven't been back for the past few years now (sweet taste of freedom! Yeah!) and the programming seems to have slipped a bit.
Two full days of the Santa Cruz trek saw us stepping on small piles of poop while avoiding the big ones. The skies that opened up on our return journey had us all soaking wet, from head down to muddy shoes. Our ride back to civilisation was in a truck filled with chicken coops, thankfully with no chickens, but I had telltale white stains all over my jacket and backpack, not to mention having to hold the icky cages back to keep them from falling on me whenever the truck went over a bump!
Perhaps it is a sign of having returned back to civilian life, in mind and in body. But when we returned to Huaraz, the first order of business was to shower, then eat, then sleep. Washing of equipment was relegated to "have thought about it, and decided when to do it" status!
The next day was nice and sunny, and after a quick breakfast, we proceeded to the rooftop of our hostel for some serious cleaning. The rooftop was a nice location because:
1) There were a couple of heavy-duty sinks there that could take sediment being washed down. 2) The clotheslines were already strung up by the hostel owners. 3) It was relatively secluded, and Ching Ching can make all the noise her petite frame could conjure up
Ching doing the underwear while I did the footwear
And what a washup we had! The staff of the hostel lent us some basins which we made full use of. Rinsed off the muddy stuff. Soaked the sweat-stained stuff. Removed insect legs and the remainder of clingy plants from our socks and gloves. Scrubbed the shoes till they looked almost brand new. Even the alpaca sweater/jackets we bought from Otavalo got a good washing!
Ebony and Ivory
We spent about three whole hours scrubbing and cleaning everything with detergent that we bought earlier. And frankly, it was really quite fun because our spirits were high from the good rest we had. It was great basking in the warmth of the sun, and sniggering at the thought of the other poor angmohs up in the snowy mountains with wet socks and underwear from the previous day. Nya nya nya nya nya!
Lending a few sets of helping fingers
What really struck me was also how well the three of us worked together. Other than stopping to wow at the scenery from the roof, none of us slacked for the entire time we were up there. When the two sinks were being used, the 3rd person would be scrubbing at another basin, or helping hang up the clothes, or even just getting drinking water. We reveled in being totally Singaporean after being among foreigners for so long. Even a bad case of finger cramps couldn't dampen our spirits!
Proud of their handiwork!
By the time we were done, almost all the clotheslines were taken up by our clothes and gear. But the potent combination of the sun and breeze meant that some of the clothes could already be kept. Which caused me to ponder - in conditions like this, is it better to wash the thicker clothes that are harder to dry so that they get more exposure to the sun before dusk, or is it better to wash the quick-dry clothes so that you can keep them first?
A bond that's hard to sunder
Little did I know that I should have pondered more deeply on another question. In the event where most of my clean clothes were still with the donkeys accompanying the rest of the group, and I had only one clean t-shirt with me, is it really wise to take it off while washing in the hot sun for three hours?
Ouch ouch ouch ouch ouch!
Seriously, it's such a good thing we have a sponsor for aloe vera products! Thank goodness for good friends like Ching Ching (who came to South America to join us) and Jasmine (who mailed the lifesaving aloe vera gelly to us. It was too late to prevent the peeling, but it sure soothed the raging heat in my back!
Together with Dan, Ching and Mark (Ching's friend from the UK), I attempted my first multi-day mountain trek in South America.
How did it turn out? We'll let our guest bloggers tell you all about it. No... their names are not Ching and Mark (not yet, anyway.) Introducing the storytellers for this blog entry... here's *drumroll*... MY BODY!
What the.... Yes, you heard right. My body parts are guest starring. Just read on lah.
Flashback to July this year:
Eyes: Hey hey hey Fingers, quit flipping the pages of the guidebook and stop riiigghhtt.... there! Yeah, yeah, that's it! Page 918... move down... and STOP! Brain, hey, Brain, wake up! What do you make of it, the 4-day Santa Cruz trek in Cordillera Blanca?
Brain: *yawn* Huh? What? Hmmm... best Andean views in Peru, icy waterfalls and lakes, verdant valleys, mossy meadows... Hmmm, sounds good... Well, what do the other body parts say? After all, you guys are going to be doing all the work. I'm just going to be carried all the way. Heh. Heh heh. Cool huh.
Heart: Just imagine the wondrous top-of-the-world feeling at the highest point of the climb! Legs: Fwah, we might have to climb really high. But we can do it lah. Yeah, rock on! Woot! Fingers: Feeling trigger happy already! Eyes: Look at those views in the photos! Amazing! Let's do it! Stomach: Sure *gurgle* As long as I get fed. Do I get to try alpaca steak? *gurgle* Lungs: Yeah, yeah, whatever. Fresh mountain air sounds good.
Brain: Okay, set! US$120 for 4 days sounds pretty doable. We can fit that into our budget. We start on 10 September so that Ching can join us for the trek.
Heart: Yaaaaay! I miss Ching. Will be really good to see her again!
Spirit: Yeah! That's the, er... spirit!
10 September 2009
(After 4 hours in a van from Huaraz, with a break for breakfast)
Legs: Hey guys, this trek has been pretty comfy so far huh! We're just snuggling up together and enjoying the ride.
Brain: *yawn* Huh? Whatever. I woke up so darn early today. I... zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Lungs: Yeah, it's a good start. What thin mountain air? I'm doing fiiiinnnne.... aaaahhhhhh...
Stomach: *grumble* What type of breakfast were we given back there?! Ugh. You call that food?! I don't think so!!! I'm still trying to digest the stone-cold breadroll *grumble*
Eyes: Omigod omigod omigod!!! Check out the views of the lakes!!!!
Heart & Spirit: Fwaaaaaaaaaaahhhh!!!!!!
Beautiful shade of blue
Ears: Hey guys, guys, listen up! The guide's saying that the name of this lake is Laguna 69...
Brain (waking up): What what? Did someone say 69.... hee hee *giggle*
Heart: Eeeeyeeerrr! Shut up, Brain. Some body parts are trying to enjoy themselves here. It's a wonderful feeling and great privilege to witness Mother Nature's beautiful handiwork in person.
Chingching Chingching goes climbing! With us!
Laguna 69 - a "girl" lake and a "boy" lake snuggle up to each other
We survived pupillage and our first few fledgling months together. We never imagined then that we would be trekking in Peru one day.
(30 minutes after starting the trek)
Legs: Hey guys, this is easy peasy! We just keep going downhill. I'm on the roll! Yeah!
Lungs: Yeah, rock on, Leggies! I can handle this speed. Hardly working up a sweat here.
Eyes: Guys, guys, why you moving so fast? We don't have time to look at the views! Hey! Slow down!
Brain: Keep going, Legs, keep going! Keep pumping while you can, it's going to get harder once we hit the uphill slopes. We gotta keep time here. Hup hup hup! Eyes.... shuddup. Nothing much to see here - just a few dusty houses and brown hills and..... watch out for that horse poop! Sheesh, keep an eye on the trail, for goodness sake!
Fingers: We're bored!!! And do we have to cling on to these trekking poles all the time? Can't somebody else do this?! Why does it always have to be us who have to carry everything?!
Stomach: Good gawd, the banana they gave me for lunch was so overripe... it was gross. And Brain, why did you order Fingers to remove the ham from the sandwich? It might have been okay to eat but Fingers fed it all to that stray puppy and I was given plain bread only. Hello? Are you stupid or what?! Eyes told me about the chocolate bar stashed away in the backpack... I want chocolate! You hear me? I want it! *pout*
View at some point of the trek
(1 hour later...)
Lungs: We've been climbing such steep slopes *gasp gasp* Lungs to Brain, Lungs to Brain! We need to stop! I... can't... breathe...
Ears: Are you guys deaf? Have you no sense of hearing? He said...
Lungs: *gasp* Legs: *faint* Fingers: *cramp* Stomach: BRAIN!!!!! EYES!!!! Did you guys know anything about having to scale up to 4,760m above sea level?!!?!
Eyes: Yeah, we saw those numbers printed in the book. But we couldn't really figure out what they meant, so we told Brain and...
Lungs, Legs, Fingers, Stomach (in unison): AND?!?!?
Brain: Erm, well, erm... I just thought cool, yeah, cool. And erm, didn't really evaluate how you guys would take to the altitude. I guess, er, I didn't realise how it would affect us, as a body... and now it's only going to get harder... and colder....
Fingers: We're all going to freeze! Oh woe, oh woe are we...
Yeah, that's where we were suppose to be...
Brain: Okay, okay, I can manage this, the situation is under control... Body, give everything you possibly can to Dan the alpaca to carry. That includes trekking poles, backpack, camera, extra fleece layer... Yeah, everything goes to the alpaca!
Dan the alpaca
(3 hours later...)
Legs (crawling into tent): Okay everyone, we finally made it to camp for the night. But we're feeling terrible! Very weak. How's everyone feeling?
Brain: I'm in pain!
Fingers: We're frozen till it hurts!
Lungs: We hurt too. And we can't breathe. We can't continue like this. The air is only going to get thinner and colder as we move higher tomorrow, and the day after.
Stomach: I'm running on empty. But I can't eat anything. I feel positively ill.
Heart: But I still want to complete this trek. I really want to do it.
Spirit: I'm crushed.
Brain: The alpaca's worn out too. If we suffer 100% trekking to the next campsite tomorrow, the alpaca will suffer 200% carrying our things and himself up the mountain. I've decided that we will do the sensible thing and turn back to Huaraz first thing tomorrow morning. Now everyone go to sleep. Stomach, try to drink some soup first. Goodnight!
(At 1.37am)
Stomach: HURL!!!!
Fingers: Grab the plastic bag, grab the plastic bag!! EWWWWW!!! It's orange! Crap, this is one heavy bag!
(Alpaca groggily rises from the commotion, gingerly picks up the bag by its handles and places it outside the tent. Lovingly sayangs the sick person and drifts back to sleep.)
(11 September, 7am)
All set to trek 4hrs back to the starting point, complete with silly hats and funny faces. Or funny hats and silly faces.
Brain: Hey guys, I don't know about you guys, but I'm pretty excited to be heading back - warm beds, real food, hot showers, clean and dry clothes...
Heart: I'm a bit bummed at not being able to complete this trek. But hey, as long as Dan is with me, I'm happy. And I'm grateful to Ching for coming with us and watching over us. She's a really good friend.
Spirit: I choose love and friendship over bragging rights to this mountain, anytime!
Eyes: And look! We get to ride in the back of a chicken truck, back into town!!!
Everyone: Woot! Wave for the camera! Uno, Dos, Tres..... HOLAAAA!!!!!!
Getting cosy with the locals... and their corn, melons and dirty chicken coops (with no chickens)
Eyes: And omigod! Looklooklooklooklook! It's SNOWING!!! Wanna go out and have a look?!
Rest of Body: Err, no. Cold!
Eyes: But everyone's outside in the snow. The driver, the Dutch couple, Dan, Ching. Ching's got something in her hands.... *squint*... it's, huh? Toilet paper? She's ohhh... OHHHHHH.
Don't bother searching for Ching and her toilet paper in this pic. The photographer had some decency not to snap in that direction!
(At 8pm, back at the guesthouse in Huaraz)
Brain: I'm calling for a meeting. Everybody tune in please. We need to come to a consensus about attempting future treks, such as the Lares Trek to Machu Picchu and the icy trails in Torres del Paine in Chile, cos we will need to work well together if we are ever going to complete any trek that we start. Brain (aside to Right Hand): Psst, RH, are you taking notes? Please draft the Notes of Meeting within 24 hours for me to vet and approve.
Brain: I vote for a sensible take on this, so all in favour of never attempting a mountain trek again, say "aye!" Lungs: Aye! Yeah, let's just take the train to Machu Picchu, can? Brain: Aye! Right Leg: Aye! Left Leg: Aye! Fingers: Aye aye aye aye aye aye aye aye aye aye! Eyes (forlornly): Sigh... well, okay... aye, we guess. But it's such a pity to miss those beautiful views.... Nose: Aye! Stomach: Ayeayeayeayeayeayeayeayeayeaye!!! Butt: Hey guys, I know I haven't said much throughout this whole fiasco, but hey, sitting on a train sounds good. Spirit (clearing throat): *fake cough* aye-hem *fake cough*
Heart (stubbornly): Well, I wouldn't exactly say never again...
Spirit (fierce whisper to Heart): Shush!! Don't let those wimpy body parts (and the alpaca) hear you! But yeah, I know what you mean. Someday, my friend, someday... We'll make it.
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~~ GO ~~
Excerpt from Visa Ad:
"It's one tiny, two-letter word that makes amazing things happen. GO is action. it's the spark that starts the flame that sets everything in motion. GO gets us to try things we've always wanted to try. GO keeps us going no matter what life throws our way. GO reminds us it's a big beautiful world out there, and it's time to make the most of it.... to get out there and play. to get out there and do. to get out there and experience all the incredible things life has to offer."
Fine! I will watch the game on my own! *manly pout*
Ditched!
Follow me! Ching leads the way (up the wrong mountain though)
Are we there yet....
.... nooo
Never shalt they be apart
