Pick up Your Pen & Paper

My Aunt M. is the best letter writer. For as long as I can remember Christmas and birthday cards always came with 2-3 fabulous chatty pages telling you all about the comings-and-goings in Maplewood, MN. Given that my immediately family was in Florida, this was a lovely way to be kept apprised of the extended family - probably more so for my parents - but nonetheless I always enjoyed the letters. However, as a self-involved kid, teenager, and 20-something it never accorded to me to respond; that is until about 2 years ago when I made a New Year's resolution to be a good pen pal. 

As I entered my 30s, I started to crave closer family connections and these letters seemed like a nice way to cement a bond with my Minnesota family. I realized that I really looked forward to getting those two letters a year and that if I responded I would get to hear about what was happening to the family all year long. Plus, who doesn't love getting real mail. So that January I wrote back to Aunt M.'s Christmas card. It was a short chatty note recapping my Christmas visit and New Years. Nothing life changing, but something. And sure enough a few weeks later, I got another letter from Aunt M. with updates on all my cousins, aunts, and uncles. There is something really nostalgic about getting an actual piece of mail filled with stories and gossip and updates on the ones you love. And as we got into a rhythm I started to realize that this wasn't just about the connection it was also about changing my perspective on my life. Each time I put pen to paper, I would recap the last few weeks or months and give her a snippet into my life -  in doing so I would find myself focusing on all the good things going on and it made me realize just how many there were. Within a few months, my letters were just as long and chatty as hers. I was officially a letter writer. 

Two years later and we are still going strong. It isn't always perfect, with the craziness of the last few months I just responded to her letter from late August, but in doing so I was able to put the last two months in perspective: Sure I worked way more than I would have liked, but in recapping those two months I was able to focus on the visits from 4 friends, a trip to Disney World, time with my mom, new challenges and victories at work, and so many other funny and fabulous moments that were easily lost in the everyday living. One hour sitting on my porch and all of the sudden the last two months take on a whole new look and beyond that, in sending this letter tomorrow, I know that in a few weeks I will get a similar peek into my family's life across the country. It is a lovely tradition that I am so glad I have begun and hopefully this will inspire you to pick up your pen and paper and send a note to someone you love - I promise they will appreciate the effort and you may be surprised about what it will end up meaning to you!

Adventure on the Inca Trail

I love to travel. I started out at 15 with a trip to Paris and London, continued with a backpacking trip through Europe at 19, a mini-semester abroad to Egypt at 20, a full semester in Belgium at 21, a couple weeks in Europe at 24, 2.5 weeks to Southeast Asia at 29, and in June 3 weeks in South America. I have been very fortunate to have been able to visit so many places, and to do so with relatively few mishaps up - at least until this last trip to Peru....

For someone who loves to travel, I am not exactly an 'adventurous' person. I am a planner - I like scheduled and structured adventure if you will. I am also not what you would call an 'outdoorsy' person. I enjoy nature, fresh air, and the occasional (emphasis added) hike in the woods; but my ideal time in nature is spent in a hammock with a glass of wine and a good book. As for camping, please refer to Troop Beverly Hills for my perfect camping scenario. This being said, I have gone outside my comfort zone for my love of travel, but usually not too far. Sure, I went to the Amazon, but we stayed in adorable bungalows and had catered meals each night - plus there were hammocks and wine. So you see, I have been able to make it work for me. 

And so when it came time to tackle the Inca Trail, I thought that I was once again making it work for me: instead of a 5-day hike on the trail, we were going to do a 2-day hike, one that would require us to carry a small bag with our overnight stuff for a day on the trail, but would end at a hotel with dinner and a bed, only to be whisked back up the mountain the next day for a hike around Machu Picchu. Perfect compromise. What I didn't count on was my first ever bout of traveler's sickness hitting the night before we headed up the mountain. 

The bus was picking us up in Cuzco at 4am, which would take us to the train that would then drop us off in between stations where we would head to the base camp to start our hike. I woke up at 11pm - 5 hours before pick-up - with some stomach distress, which I wrote off as nerves. Despite continued distress along the way to the trail, I wasn't willing to admit that there might be a problem until I was faced with the bathroom at base camp. 

As noted above, I have traveled quite a bit and seen some terrible bathrooms - including the holes in the ground at the boarder into Vietnam - those all paled in comparison into the what can only, in the looses sense of the word, be described as "bathrooms" at the start of the trail. Being dire enough to have to use them signaled to me that there might be an issue. However, I had just been dropped off in the middle of the train tracks and was about to embark on a 9-hour hike. I didn't have much of a choice but to start walking. And walk I did for 5.5 hours. 

At first the moving seemed to be good - the view was great, the weather brisk, I could do this. Our guide, Elvis, let us know that we would find the next set of toilets in about 4 hours and that if nature called in the meantime we just needed to tell him that we had to "water the daisies" and he would point us in the right direction. After hour 1, I inquired about the daisies and was directed to a patch of grass less than a foot off the trail and in clear view of the group behind us. It was then that I really looked around me and realized that the trail was only about 6 feet wide and on one side there was a straight drop and on the other there was mountain---any watering of the daisies was going to be in plain view and I would just need to keep walking. I told myself that I could do that - it was only 3 more hours. The problem was that one of the people in our group was not in prime hiking shape - she was having a difficult time and had to keep stopping. This meant that we kept stopping and that the 3 more hours until the bathroom wasn't looking promising. After 4 hours of hiking, we stopped at a beautiful waterfall and were informed that it would be another hour until we hit camp. Everyone settled in for another break and I admitted defeat and told Elvis about my little problem. He assured me it would be fine and produced a Cipro. I inquired about perhaps a Pepto or an Imodium, but was informed that this would cure all and to drink lots of water and when we stopped for lunch to just eat the bread and pasta and avoid any fat. Beggars can't be choosers, so I swallowed the pill and we continued on. A very long hour later we hit camp and I fled to another set of questionable bathrooms, praying that everything would be better soon and sure that I could make it for another 4-5 hours.

After my bland lunch and some more water we headed out for the second half of the hike. Within an hour I realized that all was not better. I tried to convince myself that I could make it another 4 hours, but it quickly becoming apparent that I would not. I had let C. know what was happening and when I started to fall to the back of our group he hung back to support and mock me. As I broke out into a cold sweat I informed C. that the situation had become dire and I didn't know what to do. He looked up and down the trail and told me that no one was coming and I should just go. After some fraught back and forth I had no choice but to take his advice. Being a boy he informed me that he wished he could take a picture to blackmail me with later. I never thought I would be in this situation and I certainly didn't think that if I was I would be laughing, but that is what happened. I also didn't expect him to then tell me that the group of seniors hiking behind us were coming up quickly - so quickly that all I could do was sit with my bare bottom on the stone steps and wait for them to walk by...It would be months before C. would finally tell me that although I thought I had covered my bottom my left cheek was actually hanging out. 

From there on out, the hike was a blur. I made it down and I made it back up the next day to explore Machu Picchu. Despite the Cipro I ended up being sick for a full week, and I can honestly say that I am closer to Chris than I ever thought we would be (or wanted to be). But I learned that when necessary, I can be 'outdoorsy' and 'adventurous.' I also learned some new travel lessons:  (1) Always travel with someone who won't take pictures of you when you are ill on the Inca Trail. (2) Always have Pepto or Imodium with you. (yes, I know most people swear by this - but it had honestly never been an issue...) (3) Remember to laugh, even at the worst moments; because if you are laughing then it will probably be even funnier after some time passes - I have been back for 4 months and this story gets funnier each time I tell it.

And don't worry, this is just the first installment on Peru - I am not going to make my only story about the trip be one focused on traveler's sickness.  In the meantime, below are a few pictures from the trip and while waiting for the next installment, please share a few of your best travel stories!  

My kind of camping in the Amazon

Evidence that I did indeed make it to Machu Picchu