UFOs and Other Strange Things You May Not Believe

I'd like to think that I'm a relatively organized person.

At this point, I've started to work out a rather nice travel system.

All of my shirts, skirts, and socks are properly rolled, stacked, and stuffed into my backpack in generally the same manner every time I change locations. I always have hostel information written out, reviewed  and ready to go the night before. I even have specific hiding spots with specifically calculated amounts of monies for quick and easy access ( money for juice? left pocket. Bus fare? Zipper in purse. Fancy restaurant that can probably break the obnoxiously large bills I get from ATMs? ... ). 

The point is, structure is my middle name (my parents seem to think it's Lea, but whatever. I KNOW). 

And yet every time I start a new blog post, I fumble around for like half and hour, trying to figure out how to structure it. bleh. Today, you get a list! And like every good list, this list has a title.

Enjoy.

UFOs and Other Strange Things You May Not Believe

1. Lake Titicaca is the highest, largest lake in South America. It also looks like the Mediterranean. At least, I think it does. I've never been, but the Mediterranean in my mind looks pretty similar to this (but with more grapes, obviously). 

The Lake was absolutely beautiful, and right on the border between Peru and Boliva (say hi to Bolivia!). Though I'd read it was big, I couldn't have been prepared for how the water seemed to stretch itself around so many smaller islands almost endlessly. It felt like a sea. Or even an ocean! I spent about 6 hours laying on the roof of the boat, eating kilos of peanuts and absorbing as much fresh air and sun rays as possible (Puno, the city we disembarked from, was a bit too much city for me--meaning, of course, that it smelled like a city. This made the quiet, the breeze, and the sound of the water against the boat even more incredibly peaceful and appreciated. And you know, as much as I love the warm, cozy llama gear, my fast-fading tan line was a pretty clear wake up call that I needed sun! So that was lovely). Even if...

2. I'm sunburned. 

I DON'T UNDERSTAND HOW TO DEAL WITH THIS.

I mean, I know Fievel and J-biebs are like, "never say never" (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ql1IFJwF0SQ and  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Z5-P9v3F8w), but like, really? This never happens! Yet here I am, red and sad and flaking. You hear that, Peruvian sun? You win! Clearly I'm learning to deal with new challenges every day--I know how to strategically avoid hot shower pressure. I know to ALWAYS accept sunscreen when offered. I even know that taking off my glasses in public is a huge no-no (the tan-line across my nose is awful...but also strangely wonderful, if I'm perfectly honest. A true source of comedic relief).

Anyway, the mexi has fried. 

To all the sunburned people in the world--I am floating through your pain. 

3. I'm also just plain floating. 

One of the major draws on Lake Titicaca are the floating reed islands--they're maintained (aka literally rebuilt) every two weeks by cutting down the nearby reeds, stacking them on top of rooty mud-blocks (which obviously float), and anchoring everything down with synthetic twine and heavy rocks. The anchors keep the entire island from drifting around the Lake, so no one's in danger of floating off, really. Unless they want to, in which case, BAM. 

Reed boat. What up.

Are they lions? Bananas with faces? 

I'm not quite sure, but they're sailing around Lake Titicaca, and for a small fee, so can you!

I'm still not sure how I felt about the floating reed islands. 

Don't get me wrong, the ingenuity and craftsmanship of it all was totally fascinating--but our greetings (we were immediately wrapped in traditional dress) and goodbyes (the women did a synchronized dance and said "hasta la vista, baby!") felt really choreographed and...uh, disneyland-ish? I know I obviously can't ignore the relationship and power that I have as a tourist, and that, in 9 times out of 10, I'm being sold a particular experience--but I didn't get to know the people on Uros island at all. It was very much a "hi, pose, take a picture, leave" kind of stop--a repeatable performance that I, and visitors like me, are very much a part of (for better or worse). 

That being said, I really enjoyed the rest of my trip around the islands! 

The Lake visit took two-days en total. I stayed with a fabulous host-mom named Gloria--she maintained a home by herself, raised three boys (Elvis, Edison, and Darrion), prepared the most wonderful vegetarian meals I've had in Peru, and managed to do everything with extreme kindness, strength, and a smile (Peruvian women never cease to amaze me).She also reassured me that I wasn't crazy when I told her that I saw an OVNI. What's an OVNI, you ask? Well, its an objeto volante no identificado...which leads me straight to number four on the list.

4. I am not crazy. I also saw a UFO. 

I don't have a picture of it, but I have a picture of the spot it was buzzing around the next morning! 

This is me and Christine--she saw it, too. 

It was about 10:00 at night, and Christine and I decided to do some star gazing before bed. There was only solar electricity on the island we were staying at, so everything was pitch-black, which made the stars light up really wonderfully. We'd been talking for about 10 minutes, when Christine stopped mid-sentence and asked in a hushed whisper, "do you see that star moving? There--above the mountain!" Lightening had been flashing around the outskirts of the Lake all night, so I assumed her eyes were playing tricks on her when I looked up and found the pulsing light she was referring to. It was brighter and bigger than any star in the rest of the sky--but as far as I could tell, it wasn't moving. It was just...winking at us.

"No," I said decidedly. "No, I think its just blinking." 

"Oh, well, alright," she said, sounding a little disappointed. Christine's had a fascination since childhood with ancient civilizations, and the conspiracies of alien involvement that shroud these places in mystery. Heck, I'll be the first to admit that I'm right up there with Scully and Mulder when I say "I want to believe!" But when a light's just blinking, I'm thinking, "star," not, "alien on board." When we resumed our conversation, I could tell Christine's mind was somewhere else. Her eyes kept returning to the sometimes-bright, sometimes-not light, but after a few minutes, I managed to put the star completely out of mind, until--

"Look!" Christine stood and pointed. "It IS moving. It's swaying left to right. Can you see it now? Tell me you see this!" 

I looked up at the sky again. 

My mouth fell opened in astonishment. 

Left, right, left again. Like a pendulum, but over huge distances, and with no discernible string in sight. 

Right, left. And suddenly I'm not so sure what I'm seeing, but I know that it's moving predictably--methodically. Back and forth, not quite horizontally, but with a dip in the middle. A twinkling smile in the sky that makes me really uncomfortable--so uncomfortable, I can't blink. 

Christine and I watch this for 10 minutes, quite literally hypnotized, when suddenly, things change, and all I want to do is run inside and slam the door behind me.

This UFO loses its shit. 

It stops moving in a predictable, back-and-forth pattern and starts spazzing out all around the sky. Have you ever sprayed a cat with water, and watched it jump in the air, squirm, and hiss away as fast as possible? Have you ever filled a balloon with air to its fullest capacity--just right before it bursts--but then lost your grip at the very last moment? 

Zipping, dipping, zig-zag mania.

That. is. this. light.

The pulsing dot starts wigging out--up, down, diagonal, dips.

Looping around like a loony--and I start to lose my marbles.

"I'm scared," I whisper to Christine. "What is it doing?"

"I have no idea," she whispers back. But then she pauses and asks, "Why are you frightened?" Christine is totally comfortable with this. She's happy, in fact. She wants IT closer. 

The only brilliant answer I can come up with is, "because I don't understand what's happening.."

This is unfamiliar.

This is strange.

And yeah, I signed up for both of those things when I said "yes" to Bonderman--but I thought discomfort and I would at least share a kindred-planet!!!

Excuse me for ruling out challenges that were other-worldly.

Bonderlesson learned. 

Anyway...

We watched the light dash around for another 45 minutes before it stopped, suddenly, and hung in the sky just like any other star. Winking, slowly. Growing so bright, and then nearly burning out. 

Christine and I both held our breath, temporarily stunned at its stillness. 

And then the light plunged!

Three times faster than we'd seen it move before! It just rocketed downwards. 

Into the Lake? I don't know. It disappeared behind the mountain and we never saw it again.

My host mom says it's normal.

The people who live on the islands of Lake Titicaca don't think twice about seeing OVNI everywhere. 

It happens all the time..

GAH.

5. Speaking of things that happen "all the time" but not really.

This is me, eating guinea pig.

I used to have a guinea pig.

BELIEVE IT OR NOT.

I hope you're all doing well! I've crossed the border and am in Arica, Chile now--but that's a list for another time :) Stay safe!

<3 ak

3-2-1, Happy Place!

I don't even know where to begin.These past 6 days have been one bizzarro-Pizarro adventure.

Let's see here.
My name is Alaska, I'm 22 years old, and I just celebrated my b-day on top of the world?

A girl could do worse :) Hostess cake, anyone?

Don't judge me and my fake foods! I wanted to have a birthday cake (and eat it, too) at the top of Machu Picchu--but there weren't a lot of cakey options that could survive a 5-day trek at 4,600 meters (heck, I barely did!). I needed a prime slice of preferably-chocolate deliciousness to come with me all the way from Cusco, up and down, through hot and cold, across the Andes, the Amazon, and rust-ridden bridges I was confident could collapse at any given moment. Aka, I needed EXTREME cake. That being said, I am happy to announce that the cream filling pulled through! I couldn't have asked for a better birthday cake. Fake cream never tasted so good. "Now that's the stuff--Hostess!"

Its surreal, knowing that I survived a 5-day hike to Machu Picchu. I say "survived" because it was easily the most physically exhausting thing I've done in my life (and certainly the most exhausting thing I've done at the ripe old age of 22--6 days in, and the achy bones have got me already!) But, as crazy as this sounds, the physical struggle that my body worked through (and the pain I literally paid money for! GAH!) made me experience Machu Picchu in a way I couldn't have via bus, train, or car. I was painfully aware of every step of that journey--my lungs gasped at freezing cold air and appreciated the scenic breaks along the route that slowed my heart-rate and gave me time to soak in what was happening around me. Machu Picchu wasn't something to just check off a bucket list--it was a struggle and an achievement and well-worth the entire trip (even if I bitterly cursed myself starting on day 2. PAAH.) Would I do it again? No. But I sure am happy I made it the first time :) Pelvic thrust thumbs up!

The surrealism is a bit harder to explain. Role with me.

When I walk down the streets of Peru and see posters, pictures, and greeting cards of Machu Picchu stapled across walls, or sold in open markets, I can say--in complete astonishment--"I was there." When I do a basic Google search of "Peru," and pull up that classic Machu Picchu photo, I can hold it next to the pictures I took, and see smiling me, beaming back from the mountain top. I'm in those pictures! This is real life! See that giant mountain behind the Machu Picchu ruins? It's called Wayna Picchu. It towers over the mysterious Inca structures that we're still unsure about today. 

This is me, sitting on top of it. 

I'm higher than the clouds and I can almost touch the sky.

Surreal, right?

Still, who can have highs without a few lows?

This is me, wanting to fall over and never move again.

Everything has its ups and downs.

I may have wheezed under my breath (at several points during the trip) "thisssss.. is how.. I die." 

But at the end of the day, I made it! 

This is this tale of my uphill battle with the Salkantay trail.

Pre-depature: I spent about 4 days in Cusco adjusting to the altitude, buying kilos of peanuts from the outdoor markets (nom), and stocking up on sufficient llama gear for the nights ahead of me--it was also probably one of the most relaxing periods time that I've had in Peru thus far. My only objectives? Explore the city, drink lots of juice, and try not to lose my breath in the thin oxygen (aka NO strenuous activity). Needless to say, Cusco and I got along quite well :) 

I was feeling pretty fancy on day one, even after the 4:00am departure. Here's a picture of complacent, happy me and complacent, happy hiking group. We're ready for the trek ahead.

After about 8 hours of hiking up some pretty treacherous little rock-paths (and several happy-place daydreams about Disneyland, Johnny Depp, and peanut butter-- in no particular order) we came to a view that made it all worth it. This is Salkantay mountain, the trek's namesake and possibly one of the prettiest things I've seen in a while (again, my head was filled with daydreams of Johnny Depp, so when I say "prettiest thing I've seen in a while," you know the view's good).

Look, exuberant seeing!

And then began day two.
Four hours straight up, four hours straight down, and one mind-warping last hour until we finally arrived at camp. Those were dark times. Even quoting the entire first Harry Potter movie (which, I'm quasi-embarrassed to say, I can do) couldn't pull me through this one. After a while, I just had to resort to a military 1-2-3-4 step pattern, and push every ounce of concentration I had left into picking my feet up, bringing them slowly back down to the earth, and hoping, at the end of this process, I was somewhat closer to camp. Fueled by Coca tea, bread, and questionable looking soups, day two--undoubtedly the hardest of them all--came and went, and allowed me to push past the rest of the trip with the confidence that, "hey, after that, I can do anything!" Even pee in the woods! I'm an expert now, thanks very much (and as someone that hasn't done a great deal of camping, this is big news).

Day three and four only had six hours of hiking each day--but after the uphill/downhill powerhouse combination of day two, I think everyone needed to give their protesting bodies a stern talking-to. As difficult  as the trek was, I met some fabulous people in my group--people that handled the stress with courtesy and grace, and were kind even at the most difficult points in the journey (altitude sickness, food poisoning, 3am rooster wake ups, etc). Our group did a great job of willing each other on, and thanks to their constant good company and support, I made it to day five and could see this--the sun rise on Machu Picchu. 

I woke up at 4:30 am to get there early--the site was empty, quiet, and more perfect than I could have imagined. 

A lot of people that I've spoken with come to Machu Picchu looking for a spiritual epiphany. I'll be honest, I didn't have that. I could appreciate the magnificence of my surroundings, and the physicality of my experience getting there--but I left Machu Picchu without any new found wisdom or religious understanding. The silence was nothing but silence. It was beautiful, but only because I could hear myself so clearly. This is not a vain statement. I don't think my thoughts are more beautiful than anyone else's. I just really appreciated having room to think. 

I was intrigued, however, by the number of people that snapped quick photos of themselves in yoga poses before laughing their way to the next picture-taking site. Commodified spirituality, anyone? It was interesting to me that having the appearance of being meditative (and having photographic proof that Machu Picchu made them spiritual) was somehow more important than working toward a wise-way of being. If I see another person in a yoga-pose at Machu Picchu, I might poke myself in the eye with incense. Stop the madness! 

Take your time.

Don't get me wrong, I love a good posed-picture as much as the next girl.

Take, for example, the llama pictures that I have with these fellows on the path.

I was lucky--soon after this, they ran off to graze in the plaza. But with a face like that, how can you be camera shy! Silly llamas--even if you have freakishly human-like teeth, I still find you oddly charming.

I guess I just wish that everyone had time to sit on Machu Picchu and do nothing--because doing nothing can play such an important role in starting to think something!

When you have about a month in each country, time takes on an entirely new meaning.

Every day is Saturday. 

You can make space for yourself, and that's really nice.

One thing I'm still thinking over is a comment a guide made in passing.

In a light-hearted voice, he talked about the technical, intellectual, and cultural achievements of the Inca peoples. Then, with his smile still in place, he remarked that had the Spanish not taken all of this away from Peru with their invasion, perhaps he would be traveling to Europe at that very moment, and some light-skinned person would be his tour guide. 

The people in my group laughed.
Humor has a funny way of expressing really bitter truths.

That was my journey to Machu Picchu.
I'm in Puno now, preparing to visit the floating reed islands tomorrow--but I still feel like I'm floating in a surreal world, and I'm not sure I want to come back down.

Loving this trip, but missing you!
<3 ak