Perú Part 1: Condors and Canyons

"JJ, wake up! Our bus is here!" Devon was shaking me awake from my top bunk in a hostel room full of sweaty, sleeping travelers. Thinking that my fellow volunteer was just messing with me, I yawned, stretched, and mumbled a lazy, "Hmm?" I sure wasn't about to be taken in by his practical jokery. It was then that I heard a booming voice from the lobby downstairs yell, "Ho-elle!!" (which is how Joel is pronounced in Spanish). Sure enough, a quick glance at my watch said 3:37am, and our 3:30am departure time was being held up by yours truly. So like a newborn bird who has yet to master flight, I fell out of the top bunk in my panic. Luckily, I had packed my bag the night before and had my hiking clothes hung up and shoes ready to slip on. It's like I predicted my alarm not going off. I slid down the smoothed wooden stairs with one button done on my shirt and said a hasty apology to our guide while I tied my shoes. He took one look at me and burst out laughing and closed the van doors. We were on our way to Colca Canyon.

This is part one of most likely three different posts about our trip to Peru a couple weeks ago. "How did we have time for this?" -Our school had the week off- "Why Peru?" -Why not?- I've decided to infuriate Maria Von Trapp and begin my Peruvian journey at the end. It feels like a very good place to start, since I feel strongest about our adventures in reverse chronological order. You'll see what I mean.

Piled into the back of a van full of other impatient hikers, we soon fell right back asleep as we left Arequipa in the southern Peruvian dust. We had already hiked Machu Picchu and visited Lake Titicaca, so falling asleep on less than ideal transportation was second nature at this point. After a few pit stops, we arrived at the pay station where tourists needed to buy a "tourist ticket" to enter the canyon. The foreigner ticket cost 70 soles, which is about 22 US dollars. Devon and I were hoping that our temporary Colombian Visas would knock us down to the 40 sol Latinoamericano price (~$12). Our guide walked to the station with our IDs in hand, only to be followed right back by the officer. Well, shit, we thought. The dude sticks his head in the window and asks, "Latinoamericanos?" "Si?" We both raise our hands awkwardly. "Bueno, ok," and he turns back to his station. Devon and I shared a look that said, did that really just work? Yes, yes it did. 

Colca Canyon is carved by the Colca River in southwest Peru. With a depth of over 10,000 feet, it is more than twice as deep as the Grand Canyon (though not as wide). Still inhabited by indigenous descendants, one of the calling cards of this area is that it is home to the Andean Condor, a veritable cross between a vulture and a pterodactyl a.k.a. a devil bird. These suckers can be over thirty pounds and have a wingspan of over ten feet. But fear not, I brought an extra pair of underwear just in case I came face to beak with one.

And I did. See condors, not wet myself... ...I swear.

Just a bunch of asses hangin' out

Our trek was relatively short in terms of time, long in distance. On day one we first hiked down into the canyon, knees and quads screaming the whole way. We then walked along it near the bottom for a while until arriving our bungalow cabins for the night. Here, we hopped in a pool and soaked our sunburns after our 25 kilometer hike. After dinner, Devon, myself, and fellow northerner (Montreal) Charles found our way over to the next camp to see what it was like, and found a very functional bar and loads of people hiking the canyon without guides. We ended up staying here until creeping back into our huts for the night. A Frenchman who was the fourth in our shack said he saw a rat in my corner, but at that point I was really too tired to care. With a night cap or two as well, covers stayed under me that night as I snored that rat right out. 

Hiking makes me want to lie down

We got to sleep in until 4:30 the next morning, what a treat! This was in order to beat the sun up the canyon. Though we began nigh in total darkness, headlamps were soon unnecessary as we huffed on our way, this back up to the canyons rim. A good sign of when to take a break from physical activity is when you can hear your heartbeat through your ears. But, logical as I am, at that point I would have rather passed out than let that sun burn my sunburn (but maybe that's the way to get rid of it? Hmm..)  After reaching the top at around 6:30, I promptly situated myself on a rock and waited for the rest of my group to arrive. 

Phil made it, too!

Our trek ended before I knew it had started, but we had met some rad people and hiked some bad mileage. We caught another local night bus from Arequipa to Cusco and spent our last day in Peru at Loki Hostel, a huge hostel that can fit 200 guests and sports its own bar and restaurant. We met some more dudes from the U.S. (We'll make it out to visit you in Hawaii sometime, Austin!) and had a great night before hopping on our morning flight back Bogota.

Peru was a beautiful country with the most conspicuous sense of cultural pride and remembrance than any other country I've visited yet. The strange thing was, it took eleven days in another country to appreciate the one we were currently living in; the feeling of homeness in Bogota brought about by being a foreign tourist somewhere else. So as the plane left the Cusco tarmac, we fist bumped and said, "Let's go home." 

Spanish word o' the day: Not to be confused with mulah or moolah, meaning cash, mula means mule. Since we hiked with a group, those far in front had to frequently stop for others to catch up. Now, we're some pretty patient dudes, but there were two French girls who would fall behind one or two minutes into setting out. But thank god the second day they took the mule taxi option to pay a little extra to ride on mules the rest of the way.

Song in my head lately: What with all the overnight traveling to and within Peru, it seems apt that the song I made sure always played was Vance Joy's Red Eye