With the sense of perspective gained from 30 hours of airport travel, I can now see how the end of my trip to South America serves as a microcosm for the experience as a whole: a large span of wandering improvisation, a healthy dose of adventure, and a touch of the unexpected. To start with the last, I am sorry to admit that my last weeks in South America included contracting a case of "don't eat the strawberries in a developing country, genius." Just when I was most ready to get out and savor the last days of mountains, warmth, and grammatically shaky Spanish, I found myself instead confined to our hostel bedroom, becoming intimately familiar with CSI spinoffs and past seasons of America's Next Top Model. However, I am happy to report that in that time I managed to (a) fill an REI.com shopping cart with gear I couldn't possibly afford, (b) compose a list of the best dance songs of 2011, and (c) get absolutely nothing of any importance accomplished.
It pleases me even more to say that after my recovery from Montezuma's Andean Cousin's Revenge, I was able to seize the day with a little bit more vigor and purpose. Brianne and I wrapped up our time at Seeds of Hope by teaching the children to make (somewhat freeform) friendship bracelets, and spent some time wandering Huaraz for last-minute alpaca purchases.
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| No, not that kind of alpaca purchase |
Then we decided to say farewell to the Andes in true rustic style by attempting another day hike to Lake Churup, followed by a night at the Way Inn Lodge in the mountains. As has been true to form with our Peruvian treks, the climb to Lake Churup proved both beautiful and far more arduous than the phrase "day hike" seems to suggest. After taking a rural van packed with campasinos and papas to the "town" of Llupa, a herd of assorted farm animals led us past houses and fields to the Huascaran National Park. From there we huffed up a steep path, puffing for air at 14,000+ feet, and finally scrabbling to the finish by pulling ourselves up a rock face using steel cables. Needless to say, as the consistency of our legs approached that of overcooked noodles, we were a little humbled to find out that a 71-year-old man and his 65-year-old wife had done the hike the day before.
After that we spent a peaceful stay at the Way Inn, followed by our last overnight bus of South America, and concluding with a spell in Lima to re-acclimatize ourselves to sea-level oxygen and the presence of Starbucks.
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| The Way Inn Lodge |
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| Plaza de Armas, Lima |
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| Last sunset in South America |
Now, back in Michigan for a three-week home-front leave, I find myself confronting the question of whether I got what I came for in South America. Unsurprisingly, the answer is a little of both. I got more than I expected, in mountain vistas and physical challenges, in sudden friendships and far too many heavy souvenirs. And also I got less than I expected: specifically, less unity of experience. In retrospect I realize how my time in New Zealand, during which four months was sufficient to canvas almost an entire country, contributed to my assumption that "going to South America" was even possible. As if visiting a few major cities and a handful of national parks was sufficient to have an impression of an entire continent. Whatever experience I'm actually taking home is quite a bit more fragmentary and elusive than that, and will take some time to catalog. When I think back on the past three months I see a scattering of bright moments, but so far cannot make out the connective, thematic lines that will eventually trace discrete experiences into a narrative constellation. But I look forward to the time to reflect, to the chance to miss alfahores and fresh mangoes, and to watching how the waves of memory smooth and round the past into something new.
