Cusco, land of the Incans and "Massage?"

Positively every traveler who had already been had raved to us about how fantastic Cusco would be. After three weeks of traveling throughout the other hubs of Peru, Katrina and I had found some places of interest, mostly historic or geographical; a place just here or there, but not an entire city. So, I was excited to come across this place that was supposed to be amazing. I had this fantastic blue paper map that my dear friend Melodee from the farm, who had lived there previously, had written all over. She told me exactly where all of the best bars would be, the best vegetarian restaurants, clothing shops, hostels, you name it. We were set to go.

When we arrived, it was rather dark, and we’d pulled into a part of town that was less than lovely, so immediately we started to worry that our expectations had been set too high. Yet after settling into our hostel and starting to make it down to dinner, we started to see the character. There were cobblestone streets, which are quite common in different cities in Peru, and bits of architecture popped out to us. I have to say, nothing screams character like a one-way road with less than two feet of sidewalk that you HAVE to walk down to get to where you’re going. Now, this particular night, I wasn’t sure how close the cars could get, until a van’s collapsible mirror—thank God, smacked right into my right breast. It was as if life had shouted, “Welcome to Cusco! Look alive!”

Yet as we settled into dinner and I had the first fantastic burrito in weeks at a very chic tourist restaurant off of the main plaza, I was relieved to nearly be over my illness in a city that has fantastic cuisine. Now, because I am still vegetarian at this point, I couldn’t have any of the Peruvian “tipical food” that they have because this includes lomo saltado, a beef and rice dish, or the peppers that are stuffed with beef and potatoes. Now, in addition to this, they also have the fun dishes for tourists to try: alpaca, which they cook up like a steak, and guinea pig, or cuy, as they call it, which they grill up whole. You can still see this thing’s teeth apparently. I didn’t order it. It did not receive rave enough reviews from people for me to break the vegetarianism at this point. I was also still trying to get over my last bits of food poisoning. After the antibiotics had screwed my digestion up but killed the bacteria, I bought these yogurt probiotic drinks that truly seemed to help my stomach. And finally after a few days of this and two days before I had to start the Inca Trail, all had returned to normal.

Now as we made our way through the city, we would follow the magical map that led us to new exciting locations. In Cusco, the restaurants were positively posh at times, there were vegetarian options, and the people were friendly. Granted, this place is crawling with tourists. I’m talking Disneyland for Peruvian tourism. The natives literally pounce on the tourists here and will ask you at least five to ten times a day, if not more, if you would like to buy a water color postcard or painting, photos with a llama, or need a pedicure or massage. Not to mention the abundance of tours they offer there. There are about a dozen different archaeological sites to see around the area, not to mention water rafting, skydiving, bungee jumping, paragliding, blah blah blah. Apparently people who go to visit South America are considered the adventurous type. The point is that even though it’s the most annoying place in Peru for tourist bombardment, it still has really good vibes—also like Disneyland.

So finally, after our first couple of days exploring, we observed the following: Cusco was founded over and around Incan sites, which include all that incredibly close-cut stonework you’ve seen on the History channel that boggles the mind. Next, they have their own flag—it’s a rainbow, and when Katrina and I first walked into the main plaza, there was a parade going on and a rainbow flag waving in the air. I’m not going to lie, of course we got very excited and started looking for our gays and friendly neighborhood transvestites because in America—this means it’s Gay Pride! Alas, we realized that it was not gay pride when people were parading around for business or something terrible to parade around about… we never completely understood some of the parades.

Cusco really has a fantastic location that, although is cold quite often, is so beautiful and close to the clouds and you can see why the whole area was and is so sacred to the people. There’s a deep-seated culture and history in the mountains and many of the people’s ancestry comes from the indigenous peoples and the Incans, so the culture is still personal and very obvious and preserved. While in Cusco, we went exploring to the nearby ruins called Sacsayhuaman and went horseback riding in the hills and we went white water rafting in the Urubamba River which leads into the Amazon. Also, we went to a fantastic folk show called Kusikay after meeting the drunk/juggler in a vegetarian restaurant the day before. Now this show included dance and acrobatics and interaction with the audience and highlighted how Cusco and Peru had evolved over the past several hundred years with the Incans, and then the coming of the Spanish, and how this changed politics and trade and all of these topics, but all while making you laugh. I got to go on stage and be a bull that has a very sexy moo and kills the matador while he’s thinking he’s won. I was quite good.

Next, I will delve into the Inca Trail, which allowed me to connect to nature and my mind, “Why am I doing this?” body, “Ow…keep breathing, ow…” and spirit, “God help me.”

Special for you! Tourism in Peru at its best...

Ciao mi amigos! It is a beautiful morning here in Puno, overlooking Lake Titicaca. It´s been a while since I last wrote, so I must fill you in on the dazzling details. First off, the day before we left Ica, the dazzling oasis where we went sandboarding on spectacular hundreds of feet high dunes, I decided I wanted ceviche again. Now, we were still close enough to the ocean where ceviche was offered at every single tourist eatery in the area. Thus, I did no rationalizing, I just wanted my nearly raw delicious fish I had so enjoyed in Lima only days before! So I order some at a restaurant right on the water that, as Katie and I realized as we began eating our food, meant you pay for the scenery more than a delicious dish. The ceviche was a little more rubbery, but still good enough and these people don´t do the whole returning dishes for something else, and hey, I paid for it, so I ate it like a good little tourist. Now, perhaps we shouldn´t cut to me 24 hours later, keeled over in the bathroom for the entire night before a 9-hour bus ride to Arequipa. I could not keep a single thing down. This is the second time I´ve had major food poisoning in the past three months, the first time was a bit after we returned from Costa Rica, so I´m officially at the point where not only karma, but all of Latin America, is out to get me.

Now, although I am weak, I do not want to miss a single beat, because I am here to do my touristy duties! So I decide that because I am able to leave the bathroom for more than an hour at a time, this makes me fit for good tourism. We go to see Juanita the morning after we arrive in Arequipa. What a wonder she is! 500 years old and she does not look a day over twelve, that little Incan sacrifice. She is still swaddled in the same clothes they buried her on the mountain in, and she´s tucked into a fetal position in her refrigerated home. Her skin, especially her hands, are amazing to look at because they aren´t aged much at all and still bear her skin color and wrinkles. Then, I decided to go see this convent that housed a bunch of rich nuns back in the 17th century, aaaaand, it was boring. There are still current nuns there, which, although I know it´s strange, I always sort of get excited when I see a nun. It´s not an everyday occurrence in Arizona, so they´re fun to stare at. So I thought yay! I get to see where they live! We get it, you have the same sort of living quarters with a very basic bed, a chamber pot, and a little kitchen with a kettle and a hearth. More than I had at the farm, eh nuns? Just kidding, but in all seriousness, I guess as much as I like to pretend I am mature enough to see things like old convents and appreciate them, I´m not. The architecture wasn´t exciting enough to make up for it. I also didn´t see any current nuns. Disappointing. But good on them for doing the whole bit!

So, then I realized I had done far too much walking and was still quite sick, so I took the next day off while Katrina went water rafting. Well isn´t it my lucky darn day that when she returns, she tells me that she just happened to be put in a boat with an entire fleet of Spanish firemen on vacation. Wasn´t that just an extra punch in the gut? No offense to the Peruvian men, but the looks of the locals are none too plentiful. The next day, afraid to miss another tour but still having minor issues, I decide to go to Colca Canyon. This was spectacular, long bus ride, you´ll see pictures. It´s not the Grand Canyon--we went up really high, like, 13,000 feet, saw some condors, alpacas and llamas.

Now, I had inquired earlier about a hospital in Arequipa just in case, but because I thought I was able to complete all of these touristy things, I was certainly getting better right? Off to Puno we go.

First night in Puno? The food poisoning came back full force. The amazingly kind man who manages the hostel I´m staying at made me tea and called hospitals in the middle of the night for me. The doctor came and took me to get an IV for fluids and antibiotics because the food poisoning was throughout my entire intestines, and I could feel those bacteria like a little sea monster in there, stirring up trouble in the bowels of my ship... Sorry, I went there. So I was forced to not go sight seeing that day and given warnings of certain parts of excursions on the islands in Lake Titicaca because of my weakness and the altitude, along with about 7 different types of medicine. Now, a note about clinicas in smaller cities--this one was more like a home. It had two beds in a carpeted room, with a TV with cable. If there had been no TV with cable, I may have not been distracted enough to notice the lake of scrubs or sterile anything. I just said a little prayer about not getting a staph infection, and didn´t even freak out when the nurse, Nelly, missed my vein the first time and just needed one more do-over. When I told them I was hungry, a good sign, they handed me a food menu from the restaurant next door that they also must own. I explained I wasn´t quite ready for the typical Peruvian dish, thank you, do you have some toast?

The next day, I keep on trucking as usual. The antibiotics are working slowly, but food is started to hurt my system less and less. We head to the islands. First, there´s the floating islands of Uros, where there´s 60 of different names, where they live on islands made of reeds as their people have for hundreds of years. Yes, incest was a problem, yes they are taking care of that-- they are only about 5 feet tall on average for the women, and men aren´t much taller than they are. Yes, they have an island for peeing, and an island for pooping. Do they always make it to those islands? No. I saw a little girl hike up her skirt, go number one where she was playing with others, then pretty much sit back down in the same spot. Reeds are very absorbant, I hope. All Western judgment aside, it was still neat to see that such indigenous culture is still carrying on. On our way to the island of Amantani, where we would meet the host family that we stay overnight with, the view is spectacular. Because we are so high, 12,500 feet, the clouds are low and especially puffy and reflect on the water. It´s such an amazing view that I can imagine a spot in heaven looking the exact same way. Now, we get to the island and meet Nicolas, our host dad. He takes us up the 300 meters (you know, the ones my doctor told me NOT to climb) to his home with no electricity, running water, and four adorable little girls and a killer cook of a wife. These people need the extra money, so they give up the little extra room they have, sleep altogether in one room once a week, so that they can house a funny tourist or two and hope that we give an extra gift or tip at the end. Now, I explain that he has four little girls. Aaaand we all know I am a sucker. I end up showing them every video I´ve taken on my Flip, giving two of them bracelets from my arm, and then going and buying them crackers and cookies in the evening. Not to mention that I was their personal donkey for a good deal of time as well. Toys aren´t very common there, but tourists are. After dinner, the mom, Viviana, dresses Katrina and I up in the traditional garb. Again, I will post pictures. You know, they´re just not so becoming on a 5`6" lady like myself. We go to a traditional dance where I last about 20 minutes, and request to go home to bed. Nicolas didn´t seem to mind. Although the tourists more than twice my age jabbed me about it the next morning. That night though, you could see every star in the southern hemisphere because of the lack of electricity on this island in the middle of the lake. There were shooting stars, and off in the distance, there were great lightning storms that we just stood and watched for a while. You couldn´t ask for more beauty.

The next day we went to another island, ate lunch, and headed back off to Puno. The boat broke down two times on our way back. Black smoke, rocking boat, water level hitting the railing next to the window-- you know, call me high maintenance, but I was not on board for this. I asked the tour guide what the problem was and voiced my being a bit scared, where his response was, "Why? The worst that can happen is you die. We all have to die sometime," with a little smile on his face. Hmm, I´m learning that the tourist industry here is not too sensitive and seemingly out to exploit you as much as you are out to exploit the cheap exchange rate. "Special for you," means, "More expensive because you´re a tourist," and if you´re given a deal, don´t worry, you will be charged for it later on in some way. There is a 50% poverty rate, and there are children in the streets begging or doing circus acts at the street lights, and it´s tough to balance out the point between having compassion or being taken advantage of.

So, on a final note, we are off to Cusco today. The antibiotics are continuing to work, and I am better and stronger every day. Inca trail is only a week away, folks! Wish me luck.

Kali

Away from Greener Pastures and onto Pisco Sours...

Ohhhhhh how I miss the simple life already. I spent two weeks on the farm. I had incredible conversations about religion and spirituality with different Hare Krishnas and got to truly sit and eplore myself in a new light. The idea that the body and the mind and soul are all holy and we need to take care of ourselves is a concept that, although is well received, is often ignored. I didn´t drink caffeine or any alcoholic beverages, I did yoga everyday. I woke up at 7 a.m., did yoga, ate breakfast, helped in teh kitchen typically after breakfast, had lunch, then was free to read my books and have a run. I could really get to know the people I was around and everyone was walking around high on life! Ahhh yes, I can remember it so well those five days ago! Leaving was difficult because I knew that my stress was only bound to return with traveling. Immediately as we got into Lima we met new people though. We met one man who we will call Gary. Gary has leeched himself onto us. He´s a lonely Canadian traveler who has followed us from Lima where we still thought he was OK, to Ica., where he has steadily digressed into very annoying and hard to shake off. Ica is a beautiful Oasis in the middle of the desert (Huacachina) and we are staying right on the little lagoon surrounded by sand dunes and blue skies. It is a dream image. Then Gary usually comes in, says something about how me and Katrina should put our bikinis on, adds some odd Star Wars reference, has an opinion and thinks he´s right about everything, dontcha know, eh? Well he sealed the deal last night by thinking a ten year old boy was a sixteen year old girl and still almost hit on him/her. What a guy.
Well, I suppose this is Krishna testing me. See, before I left there were three days of holiday where we made wishes to Krishna by lighting candles made of ghee butter and cotton and waved it around a picture of him and then bowed to the ground before his feet in hopes that they would come true. I don´t think this is the same as a birthday wish, so I will tell you what I wished for: patience, tolerance, and focus, one on each night. So, I think my tolerance level is already disintegrating dramatically. My focus on being zen is going along with it, and my patience is dithering. I have to build myself back up! I think it was all the wine from the wine tasting yesterday that´s put me on edge. After not having a drink for over a month and a half, I sure did overdo it yesterday. Ica is wine region and also Pisco region. Pisco is the local liquor. First off, I don´t often drink liquor. I´m a beer and wine girl if I have a drink and I usually stop myself at 2 or 3. But let me tell you, when you put wine and pisco in tiny little vasitos (little cups) at only an ounce at a time and you drink over 20 of those, you still get drunk! Tiny cups are very misleading. We started off at a beautiful winery called Tacana. This was your typical nice winery with the grape leaves and the tour of the facility and then a sit at a counter where you went through the different types. How nice. Next tour was at a rather less nice facility, same sort of deal though, a bit rough around the edges, but good stuff. Next place was a shit hole, but at this point we´re a bit gone so we are more interested in the look of the taxidermied animals hanging about than questioning why they are there and we drink the wine straight out of the barrel served to us by our crazy taxi driver, William, himself. We finish off the tour by singing, very loudly, Eye of the Tiger, where William pulls a fake microphone out from under his seat and hands it to each of us. Something tells me this scene happens often.
Today when we had to visit some rare bird island, I was a bit Weekend at Bernie´s about the whole debacle. Put my sunglasses on and spin me about with a camera in my hands. There were sealions. Those were nice.
I think I will go meditate now and try to regain that balance that I had just days ago with people that smiled and focused on my soul. I highly recommend an ashram to anyone. Go. I made great friends there and had a little cry when I left because that´s how much I realized I love peace. We made tons of pastries the last day as well. I miss those too.
I am now going off to Arequipa tomorrow where we are going to see the most well preserved mummy, Juanita. In Lima, we also saw the catacombs, and there were bones on the beach by the farm. Along with the taxidermied animals in the winery, I am set on bodies. I will continue to fill you in! Miss you much. Ciao!

Karma Doesn´t Want Me in the Kitchen

The title of this post goes along with a story, of course. So to start off, I am right-handed. Last Friday, after spending the previous day cutting down a lot of dead overgrowth from a rotunda with a pair of pruning shears, I felt very strong. I was told the next day to go ahead and just have the job of helping out in the kitchen. I had been bothering Sidantha, the volunteer coordinator, for days about working in the kitchen because I LOVE to cook. I excitedly go in and start washing some dishes and there´s a cast iron pot--a witch´s cauldron if you will--sitting there that needs washed and I stare at it and go, oh...I don´t know if I can lift that on my own. Then, my tiny little voice in my head says, OF COURSE YOU CAN, KALI! I decided to listen, and lo and behold, I lift the pot up and my left hand slips, my right hand thinks it can still hold it up instead of letting it go and my thumb pops out of place. HOW UNNATURAL FEELING IT IS for a thumb to pop out of place. Immediately, pain shoots up my arm and I start crying in front of my buddy Ramanuya, a funny Hare Krishna whose response after getting me something hot and cold to alternate it with, says to me, ¨Karma didn´t want you in the kitchen.¨ This, which normally I would take very lightly, made me cry even harder. Ah well, today my thumb is already much better and I got to work in the kitchen. Ramanuya pointed out that I have two other scars on my right hand, and I explained that I´ve gotten those from washing dishes also, so he said that in my past life I must have done something mischevious in the kitchen that I´m paying for in this life. I said, ¨This is like a game of Clue! Kali, in the kitchen, with the wash cloth...¨ Karma, take it easy, I´m trying.

Now, today was our first day of clear skies and pure sunshine! We´ve seen the sun here and there, but not for an entire day. Katrina ended up leaving because she needed to go up north for a little more sunshine. I decided to stay just to enjoy the peace. We´ll meet up in Lima by the weekend and then we´re off to do a bit of sight seeing towards the south. I´d like to stop and see the Nazca lines, Arequipa, and we are going to Lake Titicaca before Cusco for the Inca Trail. Until then, I am still a humble servant of the Eco Truly Village. Last night they had a Bhagavad Gita lesson in English for us about sacrifice. I thought to myself, I didn´t go up to the beach and get some hot showers so I could sit here with you fine people...That´s sacrifice, right? Just kidding. No, the showers I´m getting more used to and the food is fantastic. I´m happy just to be in a peaceful place. I am happy that I came here and am learning more Spanish and more about myself every day. Even when I am awoken by peacocks in the morning and I find a piece of mulch from the compost in my pantalones... I feel good inside.
More from the fields later, my friends.

Love,
Kali

Beaches, Bones and Hare Hare

All right, here I am in the glorious country of Peru. There is culture here! There are little tiny women wearing alpaca and socks with sandals and top hats. I love it. It is also a third world country, and the thing is that this is one of the fancier ones, you know? Lots of huts made out of reeds and no foundation, so they´re falling over and grocery stores are like the Quik-E Mart because you buy all of your meat and vegetables from the farmers´markets on the streets. I´ve tried bananas and oranges so far. Katie bought a large avocado today, I´ll let you know how it goes. It´s also a bit colder than we expected here and it´s moist all the time so I immediately got a sinus infection. I had to go to the botica where another American volunteer talked to the ¨pharmacist¨about what antibiotic I should take. She prescribed something and was talking to me about how to take it...she pointed at her mouth, shook her head no, and then pointed at her butt. I looked at her and said, ¿QUE?¨ And she did it again. Luckily, they understood by the look on my face that I thought it meant not in the mouth, in the butt, and corrected the gestures. I really need to learn Spanish. REALLY good thing I cleared that up before we left.



Now about the Farm!: So, you know when you have this fantastic concept about going and working on a yoga farm? Sure you do. Well, sometimes things come up as surprises that you were not quite expecting along the way. Of course this isn´t shocking, I did read that the farm was a Hare Krishna mission of sorts, but I did not quite know all that this entailed and it seemed a minor detail at the time. Well, just our luck, in case we had no idea what Hare Krishna was before, we were to be educated fast because we arrived to the Eco Truly Village in the middle of their 25th anniversary festival. Let me explain what this entailed: 500 people from all over South America that came to the Eco Village for 5 days of singing very loudly, playing drums at any given moment and oh they just LOVED to go on until 1 a.m. and start up again at 4 a.m. Oh, did I mention we slept in a tent so we could hear all the joyful singing and drumming at any time? Ah, well you know, we could just feel the love more that way. I already know several chants. I´m pretty good at them. Oh, and there are cold showers and the sun doesn´t shine here much. Now, sarcasm aside, there is an ashram here which is neat and peaceful. We danced in it the first night we were here and got a feel for the excitement and energy and we got to see the ceremonies right away. There was a wedding and induction ceremony for someone (like a Hare Krishna baptism) on another day where they decorated the courtyard with a giant mud-flower yantra that they burned fruit on in the middle of. There were Hare Krishna bands that played every night. Like Christian rock, but Hare Krishna instead. The gurus who founded the place were here, one is German and he loved my name; basically asked why my parents would name me after such a crazy goddess. I told him it fit. He has intense eyes and stares into your soul a lot. This can be disconcerting, but I think I stared back fairly well.



Yesterday was the first day without the festival, so we got to watch everyone pack up and ship out. Druva, the coordinator, led us on a bonafide tour of the place which turned into a large explanation of all of the iconography featured throughout. The trulys are these cone shaped buildings that are earthquake resistent and feature lots of Krishna and avatar images along with scenes from the Bhagavad Gita and he led us through what they were. Yet each time he introduced a new scene or icon, we turned it into a philosophical conversation about the religion and the practices. After three hours of this, I realized my head was about to explode. I will say that I understand most of the principles of the foundation of their religion and it really matches those of Christianity and Buddhism. I love to learn. We participated in their meditation session last night where they chant (I played tambourine during this) and read a passage from the Bhagavad Gita. They did one in English yesterday about serving others as the road to being happy and ridding yourself of material possessions, much like Zen.

Alas, we may not stay the month we expected because the urgency for volunteers is not there as much as I think they appreciate the devotional side, which we just cannot offer them. I do enjoy the beach, but it is very dirty. It also happens to have burial mounds on it FILLED with protruding human bones. I have seen a human skull, femurs, humeruses, tailbones, ribs...Yep. JUUUUST great. They explained that they had to dig up a nearby cemetary because they wanted to build something else there, so they just plopped the bodies there on the beach and that some are 400 years old or so... We saw some kids poking the skull with a stick. Katie said that´s bad joojoo. I agree.

All right, well I will let you all know how this continues to go. We will stay for the rest of the week and find out more about the volunteering as we get further into it. I miss you all, and I hope you are doing well. The nearest town is 20 minutes away and the computers are a bit old, so I will post pictures and video as soon as possible.

From the Ashes of Phoenix, I Introduce to You: The Beaten Path

Just so you all know, especially for my mother's sake, I won't promise to go anywhere that no one has ever gone before. This isn't Star Trek. Really, I am just running away from the "simple kind of life" ideals that American society loves and I'm young so SCREW THIS! The idea behind my blog is that the need to find a path to happiness is inherent in all of us. That "self discovery" mumbo jumbo. For me, I am someone who loves to start from scratch. I like to take the little comfy life that I have set up for myself, disassemble it (much like having to take apart your tinker toy and Lincoln Log concoctions as a child, difficult, but in order to build a new cabin or airplane, I need the parts from the other one) and use the parts of my physical, mental and emotional states for one specific purpose instead of several. Sounds selfish? Well, it is. For those who wish to grow, we must change constantly. To create new facets of ourselves, we must alter another one to make room, like cutting down the crops before the new season's harvest can grow. This meaning is the origin of my name, Kali, the dark goddess of Hinduism, and a philosophy I am only beginning to understand through myself, family and friends, philosophy, the current news and history itself. I realize that I, along with the world, have a pattern of behavior where if something seemed too perfect, too normal, too steady, I had this antsy need to muck it all up--even in the slightest way--in order to get things moving around again. This proverbial machete I hold makes sure that life keeps on escalating to a new degree and allows me to learn, albeit usually the hard way. By trespassing into unknown territory, by molding and remolding my hopes and plans for the future, I will become, eventually, someone with a solid and steady foundation... *cough* Right? Someone who just sheds my skin and grows a new one from time to time. Hmm, sounds messy.

Society views "finding yourself" as an event that occurs in the teens and/or early twenties and perhaps again during a mid-life crisis. Although I disagree, and believe that most people who wish to become better versions of their current selves are constantly looking for reinvention and new territory, I am in my early twenties, and thus currently fit into this category for self-discovery. Recently out of college with an undergraduate art degree under my belt, no husband or children to look after, I have options: Start grad school, get a full-time job, and find the aforementioned husband and children, a house in the suburbs, a few noodles to toss in our swimming pool, typical American dream, blah blah. This is great. Part of me wants JUST THIS! I am a smart, domestic woman who has maternal instinct. I LIKE TO COOK! Yet...there's that antsy factor, and until that hushes itself down, I know that the destructive pattern can pipe right back up and remind me that I am not yet ready for this adventure. No, instead, I'll need to do a bit of spirit searching through a plan to uproot myself in every way possible. My plan will be completed through traveling into the depths of the unknown (to me, anyway), out of my comfort zone, and apparently into lands where I don't know the language, cultures or traditions, and opening myself up to learning and adapting to a new lifestyle. Jane Goodall studied gorillas and could behave like one in order to speak to them. I want to transform in a similar way with fellow humans. I am going to study myself in other cultures. This ability to see how others live their live is purely reflecting back onto how I behave once I am there as well. I will let you look in too! I will take video and blog as often as I can about what I am learning along the way.

In case you don't know, I am from Arizona. I have traveled by myself since I was 18. I took myself to New York and I was immediately hungry for more cityscapes, more art and melting pots of culture. Then, when I was 20, I left to study abroad and live in England for five months, where I studied very little and instead when traveling, I found myself wining and dining my way through cities, visiting landmarks and seeing more through a lens than I was really able to soak up through my own eyes. Unless you are able to spend real time somewhere, you become disassociated and glazed over by travel. I was stretched for time and cash and spoke to natives only in order to ask where the next tourist stop was. Yet In Tuscany, my last stop, this changed. I opened my eyes and asked myself what I was doing here. Who would I speak to? What would I learn? The medieval towns pulled me in and I took deep breaths in. This place didn't feel touristy even though there were others. There were no long lines for landmarks here really, each place had centuries' old history, was important to someone, and wildly interesting. It was a place I could be tired. Traveling for nearly three months can do that, and I started to feel I had done the rest of my trip all wrong because this was a place of peace, a place of natives, a culture that thrived on being hospitable and telling their stories of the land. Now I realize I'll have to go back and do it all over again later in life to make up for losing the whole point of travel-- to embrace a culture, to feed and love and ask questions about what you are seeing with your eyes. So where will I go? When I got home nearly two years ago, I decided I would stumble around my home country, America, get in some good cities and feel what it is like exploring the birds of my own backyard. There are places I said I never cared to go that I am dying to visit now, places like South America, Asia and Africa, that call to me. Learn a language and work with all ages, all races, and different interests. I start in Peru in two weeks from today. I will be there working on a sustainable farm on the beach in Chacra y Mar, in the Huaral province an hour or so north of Lima. Many of you may wonder why I chose this. Well, as a city child, I actually do feel a yearning to learn about land and how food grows and long to see the stars and live on the ocean. I hope to bring back many interesting new skills like gardening and vegetarian cooking and of course, the ever popular goat milking. I will stay there for a month and then Katrina, my dear travel buddy and I are off to see the sites of the rest of Peru, hike the Inca trail, and go to Chile or Argentina or both. Yes, money is an issue--as always with any art degree, but I think I can figure something out.

In my blog, I want to shine light on differences that aren't so different. I want to see great landscapes and meet fantastic people. I want to aid in the coming generations' ability to destroy the walls that exist between countries and cultures and hope we will learn from each other as citizens of the Earth, showing just how far humans can grow.

I hope you will all enjoy my little evolving blog.

All my love,
Kali, The Beaten Path blogging lady