How I Survived Machu Picchu

First off, I barely made it. Whoever told me that anyone with average fitness levels would have no problems is a liar. Hiking the four day, three night Inca Trail to Machu Picchu was one of the hardest things I've ever done, mentally and physically.

Maybe it was harder because I had expected it to be easy, and I admit I've been in better shape before. It's not my fault Portland is THE beer mecca and beer is my biggest weakness. Anyways! Hiking Machu Picchu now requires you to go with a guided tour group, and I went with Llamapath. I highly recommend them, because they were amazing. If you want to do the classic 4-day trek that I did, you have to reserve your spot months in advance, like I did. In order to go in November, I paid for my spot in August. Otherwise, you can show up to Cusco, walk up to a tour agency, and buy a day package to go straight into the Machu Picchu ruins via bus. Don't be lame.

To prepare for this hike, I bought hiking boots and zippy pants, two things I would have never been caught dead wearing a year ago. But I figured everyone else would be wearing the same stuff there, and functionally is the most important thing (IT WAS). I was also convinced into renting hiking poles, and I forgot my sleeping bag so I had to rent that too. HOW did I forget a sleeping bag?! I brought my big Osprey backpack which was incredibly light whenever I had it on due to how the weight was designed to be distributed. Our group had a prep meeting the night before leaving in Cusco, so that they could tell us we were going to meet at 4am the following morning. I didn't even get a chance to go to the expat Irish bars!

If you go, bring clothing for all four seasons, 'cause the guide said it, and nothing was closer to the truth. Bring sunscreen, bug spray, a poncho, a really warm jacket, sunglasses, everything. Every day was different, but some days it would be scorching hot and then it would hail on us! My tent-mate (I got pitched with the only other single girl traveling alone..she was from Canada and let's just say we did NOT become best friends) (but I loved everyone else) brought duct tape to wrap around her toes to prevent blisters. Also, I carried my own backpack cause I didn't want to be a wussy, but in hindsight I wouldn't recommend it. Hire a porter, a native who works for the company to carry things for you-their calves are bigger than your head! Almost everyone in our group had a porter, and although I'm proud of myself for enduring the massive annoyance, I would have enjoyed the trek more if I had been free to prance around. The path was rocky and steep, with really massive inclines at some points and slippery, narrow descents. It was always changing and some parts were alongside cliff drops, so we had to focus on our footing.

We hiked for hours every day, starting really early in the morning like 5am and then ending around 4-5pm for dinner. I felt like I was in the army or something and we were on a mission, so I rarely complained. Each day we had to cover certain distances in order to reach our next campsite, which the porters would run ahead to set up and prepare for us. We had delicious, elaborate multiple course meals for breakfast, lunch and dinner, like ceviches, fried Kondor drumsticks, kababs, pizza, mashed potatoes, steak salads and even cake. It was like a magic show every time they brought out the next dish. Everyone thought we were going to lose weight from hiking all day, but we certainly gained it back during meal times. I guess our excuse was that we needed it for energy, but honestly everything just tasted so good, and it got extremely cold at night so we all almost overdosed on Milo and instant coffee.

And the views really were breathtaking, just like everyone said. It wasn't overrated at all. We took multiple breaks to drink water, reapply sunscreen, and take photos. I cried often whenever we got to a viewpoint (okay, maybe more like silently shed a few tears) because being amongst the clouds up in the mountains just filled me up with awe and appreciation for the beauty of our earth. And also, it felt really, really good to take my backpack off. Our guide would have us sit in a circle sometimes to tell us stories of the Incas as we overlooked ruins. It was hard for me to pay attention to the history of the stuff, even though I knew it was very important. I would just be the first to walk up and touch the rough stone surfaces and trace the cracks and patterns engraved there from so many years ago. Whenever we got to a site that had homes, I would walk through the doorways and try to picture which room I would want. From what our guide said, the Inca Trail was made to be a pilgrimage for the future rulers of their civilization, and the different sites along the way all served different purposes. He also told us tons of random facts, like how potatoes originated in Peru. Then the Spaniards brought them to Europe. And the Europeans brought them back to the States. Haha!

On Day Four, our whole group decided to be the first ones to reach the Sun Gate. Usually our group would camp at different sites, but on the last night all the other trek groups are at the same site, in order to get to Machu Picchu first thing in the morning. We had to get up at 2:50AM to be the first. WHAT THE HELL. I honestly didn't really care to be the first group in, but everyone was so adamant about it I just pretended to be excited too. The Sun Gate is a lookout point that overlooks all of Machu Picchu, the entrance. I was drenched in sweat from racing to the top with my group, so disgusting that I didn't even want to take a photo. OH! Did I mention there were no showers for the duration of the trek? Baby wipes all the way. The view was pretty, but I was so dizzy from it being a weird hour and running with the altitude that I was just happy to enter the site.

You know how they say it's about the journey, not the destination? This was a perfect example. I'm not saying that Machu Picchu wasn't impressive, but it wasn't much different from the other ruins we had passed on our way to get there. It was just a lot bigger, and flooded with tourists. Still, we had to get that money shot. You know, the one on the rock with Machu Picchu in the background. I had spent the entire trek rotating my thoughts between boys and how to post for this photo. There were also a lot of llamas wandering around, just to meet everyone's expectations. But we were so damn triumphant about completing the journey, I bet we could have ended up anywhere and been happy. 

After a few hours, I got on a bus to take us down to Agua Calientes, a little town 30 minutes away to recoup, eat, and prepare to take the train back to Cusco. I had a beer, but I would recommend skipping it and just getting a piso sour instead.

And that's it!

Dead Woman's Pass

Setting up camp after Day 1, a lady with a basket was selling beer haha

Good morning, our base camp of Day 3 and sweaty laundry

Day 3 ruins

Taking a moment to soak in the sun.

We ate well, really well. 

Morning of Day 4, waiting for the Sun Gates to open-almost there! 

Gringo Ladder, how bad do you wanna get there?

Money shot-group photo first. 

It really was all about the journey. 

Look, I found llamas!

A Moment to be Thankful

Thanksgiving is a uniquely American holiday, primarily centered on gathering with family for good food...and then going on shopping rampages afterwards. For me, I've witnessed others feel most homesick when spending this day abroad. We always made the best of it and each year, whether if I was in Taipei or Honduras, I was always thankful to be surrounded by people I loved and cared about.

I guess those warm and grateful feelings of spending this significant holiday with fellow foreigners and expats stuck with me. This year even though I'm back in Portland, I chose to have dinner with my dearest colleagues instead of relatives or family friends. I've been a Thanksgiving orphan for too long, so now there's something special about this special gathering with new friends. And the fact that each year I have friends to call my family on this day, that is a true blessing.

This year, like every year, I have more and more to be thankful for.

+I've moved back home to Portland, Oregon and have fallen in love with it all over again.
+I've gotten a job with one of the best companies on earth, and an amazing work family as well.
+I've moved into the neighborhood of my dreams and every day I feel lucky to walking to work.
+I've collected more passport stamps, saw many beautiful sights, and lived to tell about them.
+I've continued to meet and make friends that enrich my life and inspire me.
+I've learned to marvel and enjoy the simple pleasures of the world, like gourmet bread, falling autumn leaves, drinkable tap water, yoga pants, and long conversations.

Portland is my home because my best friend was waiting to pick me up at the airport on Tuesday night. I'm not a very mushy person and I didn't even tell her, but I was moved to tears that someone wanted to welcome me back after weeks of me arriving at unknown places alone. Years, I suppose. This year, after all my travels, I'm most thankful for familiar faces I love and a place to call HOME.

"Travel not to find yourself, but to remember who you've been all along."

A Bit of Bolivia

I landed in La Paz on Tuesday, the capital city of Bolivia and highest in the world. All the emergency warnings about altitude sickness worried me a bit when I was on the plane, but my, the view of the Andes from Cochabamba was unforgettable. As soon as I landed I remembered to move slowly so that I wouldn't faint, and I didn't! Yay! 

La Paz is chaotic and smoggy, but somehow I find pockets of it to be simply charming. It's a tight city where everyone either takes taxis, hops on minibuses, or walks everywhere. There are cable lines making a jungle above street traffic, but no underground metro stations (my favorite! Boooo) The streets and buildings have colorful, weathered walls and the windows have seen better days, but they're beautiful to me that way. Most of the buildings are pretty low, and the streets are never level nor paved, so I can't see myself living here. Everywhere I walk is like going for a hike. I'm even wearing my hiking boots today! Sadly, I also discovered that their draught beers and coffee isn't very good at all. But the people are friendly and helpful, and I'm finally using my Spanish here! 

I've been shamelessly checking off the touristy to-do lists. First stop has been Sagamaga street, aka Gringo Alley. It's the touristy street where they sell handicrafts, and tour packages and etc. Surprisingly, there are barely any foreigners there. I was expecting parties on the streets and Austrailians in dreadlocks, but this street is relatively modest and calm. Most gringos here are just passing through after Macchu Picchu and heading down south. I enjoyed browsing through the stalls of gorgeous rainbow hammocks, pillow cases, leather satchels, and trinklets but only bought bracelets due to my limited luggage situation (thee big backpack). 

I also walked to Calle Juan (preserved history alley way), people watched at multiple plazas (pigeons galore!), zipped through museums, rode the scenic cable car, hiked up the San Francisco church's bell towers, browsed Witch's market (dried baby llamas ehhhh) and ate a ton of street food to make that typhoid vaccine worth it. I think if you're as ambitious as me, two days in La Paz is more than enough to do everything. Everything is super cheap too! 

My favorite part of this place is how the streets look. They're always sloped so intriguingly in one way or the other, and since La Paz is in a valley, every picture I take has the mountains in the background. All the streets are gritty with 'cholitas' selling gum and Kleenex on the sidewalks, exactly like all the postcards I've ever seen of Bolivia. The lighting here is also spectacular, most of the photos I've taken don't even need filters! 

Tomorrow, I'm taking an overnight bus to the Uyuni Salt Flats, the main reason I've wanted to come to Bolivia and I'm super excited! I don't expect to have wifi on the buses, but you know, hope for everything and expect nothing :) Ciao! 

Brazil, it was real. I'm coming back for you someday..

I´m at an internet cafe, waiting for the airport shuttle at the bus terminal. I cannot believe my week in Sao Paolo is over, but I am sure I will be back.
I´ve always had this theory that within minutes of landing in a new city, people generally know if they can love it or leave it. Since I worked a full week at the Airbnb office during my stay here, I had to rapidly adapt to a routine that pretty much stimulating what my life would be like here...and yes, I could totally move here.
Sao Paolo is the largest city in Brazil, and the world´s 12th biggest city. There are many types of neighborhoods: modern, old, colorful, swanky, hilly, all sprawled out with character. The metro system is fast and cheap and will take you everywhere you need to go. On Paulista Avenue, I found skyscrapers and that´s when I decided this city was big enough for me. The friends and aquaintances I´ve met here are friendly, open, intelligent and crazy creative. I completely fell in love with the street art, food, and energy of this place. Even more so, I´m captivated by the Portuguese language and have tried to learn as much Portuguese this week as could be reasonably expected.

To say that I've seen this city would be a huge understatement. That's what kills me when I leave a city I've fallen permanently in love with...there's no closure because I know there are so many places I haven't discovered yet. I didn't even get a chance to go to Rio de Janeiro!! There's a whole life here waiting for me to live. I would eats tons of fruit and drink 'vitaminas' and get really tan, wear white pants and tight floral dresses all the time and fall in love. My brazilian boyfriend and I would go for drinks with our friends at outdoor patio bars with live samba music.  Why can't I just travel without envisioning moving my whole life?

My colleagues here became my new friends and family. Boy, do Brazilians know how to party! These people are a blast, and have hearts of gold.

No shortage of culture (good beer and good food) 

Highlights: 

+Meeting all my coworkers in Sao Paolo, was like a reunion of siblings separated at birth. (Okay at least that's how I felt) and going out to lunch with them everyday to a new spot, and them kissing me all the time. 

+Staying with Wolfgang and Renata, super host in Brazil and getting to be a part of their amazing life, like testing recipes at their new co-kitchen space and being treated to homemade passion fruit pudding for breakfast. 

+Venturing out to the Liberdade, the Japanses neighborhood and having the most amazing salmon handroll in my life. Then washing it down with super cheap local canned Skol beer. 

+Meeting Brazilian friends and going for drinks at Aspicquelta avenue! Such a lively place and fun people. 

+Browsing through Benedito Calixto open market for souvenirs and eating from the authentic food carts (I haven't gotten sick yet!!) 

+Getting invited to a local balcony house party! The back opened up to a view of the city, I learned how to Samba...it was a magical night 

+Finding and exploring Batman alley on Sunday morning. This is a tucked away alley in Vila Madalena where artists get to display their best work. Lots of people, tourists and locals alike, come here to marvel and take pictures of the art. 

I want to add links and more photos but it's so hard doing everything by phone! Thanks for reading still, and I hope someday you'll get a chance to come to Sao Paolo!!!

Sao Paolo-Part One

So I left my laptop at home for this trip, and I really wish I hadn't. Why? Because there is SO much I have to write now!

First of all, Portuguese is NOT Spanish. It kind of sounds like Spanish, but it's not. My ego has been slowly withering away with each conversation I've staggered to have with locals in Spanish, forget English. This has left me downloading Portuguese phrases on my phone asap, especially after I sat down for my first menu and didn't recognize a single word aside from áqua. I found my listing without any issues, and found out that my hosts are not only Superhosts, they will be flying out to San Francisco in a few weeks for the Host Open. They are awesome. They are so awesome that their kitchen has been replicated into the kitchen inside the Airbnb Sao Paolo office.

I spent the majority of my first evening lost in my neighborhood, Vila Malalena. It's considered a trendy, upscale and safe area with lots of restaurants bordering one end and there's a pretty crowded party street on the other side called Rua Aspicuelta. There is graffiti EVERYWHERE on EVERY wall in Sao Paolo, but it's most definitely not vandalism here-more like wall art. I was looking for an alley called Batman, which is a famous alley full of wall art that my host told me about but never found it. I was happy to see people drinking out on the sidewalks, and felt kind of out of place in my Chucks. I've been tripping nonstop, partially because all the buildings are built like rainbow, overcrowded teeth and I can't stop looking. And also because the side walks are literally broken up and slabs of concrete are everywhere. After I survived weaving through the crowds of beautiful tan people, I found myself staring at menus in Portuguese, searching for the only word I could make out: CERVEJA (beer.)

In front of a bar called Melegrano, the owner came out and asked what I was looking for. I asked if he had any beer and I've never seen an old man beam so proudly. Turns out Melegrano boosts one of the fanciest and largest emporium of fine local and import beers. He was thrilled to practice his English and brought out some dark beer he claimed to be the best porter in Brazil, something called Petroleum. It wasn't on tap, but I wasn't expecting too much. He poured it into a fancy glass for me, pointing out excitedly that it even flowed like car gas. It was perfect. I really enjoyed people watching out on the streets with club music thumping in the background, wondering if it was weird for me to be alone. I think I'm going to do that more when I get back to Portland and maybe pretend I'm just a mysterious lone traveler.

I have to leave this desktop now and go out after work. More later, CIAO!

Don't they look like toy houses??

My host's puppy, I want to steal him away. 

My workspace this week, gonna have those sweets.

On Getting Called Out...and everything else that's good.

This week was pretty normal. However, if I lived a thousand lives and this was one of them, I would be the luckiest girl in the world. (My fave quote)

Keeping my life balanced is a ever-ending endeavor of mine, but I am super blessed with all the tools and strength to do so. It feels like every week I'm diving into a different form of self-improvement, from working on my personal finance skills, home decor, outdoor sports gear, cooking, travel planning, Spanish, dating (how this is positive is highly debatable) kickboxing, and even the Paleo diet. It's weird how everything usually lasts only about a week. It's not a bad thing, it's just a sign of my restlessness and insatiable appetite for living life. I have yet to get into my gardening stage, a canvas painting phase, or serious typewriting stage but I know it's going to happen eventually.

One form of self-improvement that I have not mentioned in forever is my relationship with God. It's definitely not a phase though, it's just who I am and will always be-a believer. I'm a Christian girl. Do I go around telling people this? NO. You can't tell it by the way I live, so I don't want to give people the wrong idea... However, once upon a time, being a follow of Jesus was my biggest identity. I even had a whole blog on my journey with Christ. He was my first and everything. I can't say that any particular incident turned me away or that I've turned away at all. I've just placed God on a shelf somewhere, and wandered off, globetrotting the world and falling in love and enjoying my whimsical little life and God is just there, getting dusty (and probably getting irritated and plotting to strike me with a lightening bolt to remind me that I'm NOT building towards my calling). That's not how it's supposed to be, and that's not what I want. The hardest thing about stepping back into the God journey is that He will suck everything you have into it, including your soul. And then He will save it. 

I've always believed that we don't get to choose Jesus, He chooses you. It's been burning in my heart for awhile, and so I went to service at Imago Dei this morning. The pastor shared a story about a tax collector named Zacchaeus who climbed up on a tree to catch a glimpse of Jesus as He was walking by (Luke 19). And that's how most people 'seek' Jesus. We are interested, but don't want to get too serious or too close. The thing is, Jesus saw this man and He knew, and called him down. It's like trying not to make eye contact with your teacher or boss but they know you have an answer so they just call you out anyway.

I don't really have a point, just that Jesus shouldn't be a phase or something I balance into my life, I need Him to be the core and I just want an extra push. I'll push myself, but it's always good to be held accountable.

After all, He has poured SO many blessings into my life. Even if He hadn't...but He has. One of my friends has a routine Thankful Thursday post so that she is always reminding herself of things to be thankful for. I'm not that disciplined, so here's my just random list from this past week:

+Having the best girl friends a girl could ask for. My girl friends are funny, ambitious, smart, supportive, fierce, kind, loyal, gorgeous, strong, wise, and all over the world. I love that I can turn to anyone of them at any time to either go out for drinks or vent about school loans. I wouldn't be sane without them <3 Today I was especially happy to have one of my besties visit home, and for an amazing brunch.

+Living where I live. I don't mind staying in my NW Portland hood like, all the time. I love Trader Joes. I love Powells. I love Washington Park and the Popehouse. I especially love walking to work lately cause the leaves are CHANGINNNNNG COLORSSSSSS. I love that I can walk practically to anywhere I need to go to and that I feel perfectly safe doing so. There are still many restaurants I haven't been to yet..although I've been a regular at most of the bars :D As I've repeated many times before, moving back to Portland was the best thing I've done for myself in a long time.


+My job. Everyone knows I have a very cushy job loaded with too many perks and we are spoiled rotten. Monday we had a pizza and beer party after work to share stories in the office. On Tuesday the avocados were back, and macaroons. Wednesday we had a biker guy making us fruit smoothies and had massages, then a Timbers game. Thursday we had a keg of Pumpkin Beer, a Pumpkin bread bake off and a kil
ler happy hour at the Bitter End. Friday we had more Pumpkin beer. I don't ever want to take this for granted and we all work hard every day. But seriously. I am so blessed to be SO taken care of.

+Having the means to do this Paleo Diet. No dairy? No grains? No processed foods or sugars? Not everyone has access to fresh fruits and veggies and organically farm-raised meat, but I do. I have been thinking about this privilege since I started two days ago, and I don't know why I get to have this choice but I do, and so I should treat my body better. So far I enjoy eating tons of salad with meat and eggs on it. It makes me go to the bathroom a lot. A LOT...so I must be losing weight. :)

+Being able to travel. Never an understated luxury. I don't care where you're from or where you've been, but if you can travel, be grateful. Truth be told I'm a bit nervous for my upcoming solo trip, but excited. I'm going to San Francisco next week for a short stint to process my Brazilian visa, and then in November I'll be off trekking through South America for three weeks, conquering Macchu Picchu at the end. I know some people spend their entire lives dreaming about this, so it's amazing that I'm just gonna do it next month. Yeah, JUST DO IT. Sometimes, I surprise myself.

+That it's Autumn. Time for scarves and plaid and corn mazes and PUMPKIN PATCHES! I don't give my guy friends credit for putting up with me, but I should. I'm thankful that my friend Andrew wanted to go to the pumpkin patch today and now I have two pumpkins I don't know what to do with.

The Week I Thought I was In Love

I can't believe my relationship posts got over 5x more views than my BELOVED TRAVEL ARTICLES. Sheesh you guys. I guess that just shows humans are obsessed with love, heartbreak, drama and everything in-between. Besides, my dating life is a tad bit more happenin' than my travels at the moment, since I'm not going ANYWHERE for another month. Oh, to San Francisco for a bit for besides that.

So what's the story today? At 26 years old, I finally understand the difference between infatuation and love. I met a guy last week, and it was magical. We couldn't get enough of each other, and I found myself letting all my guards down and telling him everything and wanting to share my future with him. Instantly. We texted all day and all night nonstop, to the point of my iPhone threatening to die before getting out of the office to see him almost every day. I was so head over heels that I've announced to my best friends that I was positive he was The One (they were all skeptical, as they should be. It's a wonder no one tried to slap me out of it). He was completely flawless and perfect to me, and I had decided that whatever issues that might come up, I would do whatever it took to resolve them so that we could continue to be happy together. It was too good to be true. I realized that I was ready to be in a relationship again, because I found the one I wanted to have it with. For one week, I thought I had fallen in love and it was the best feeling ever. Like getting hit with a train.

BUT.

The thing about infatuation is that it's like a drug, and it's like the cheap vanilla extract instead of the pure vanilla of love. I became addicted to him. Any texts/contact from him throughout the day were like shots of adrenaline. It was so hard to focus at work, and I would wake up too early every morning day dreaming about him. He told me he felt the same way. Scientifically speaking, my brain was releasing huge amount of dopamine which changed the wiring in my brain, then synaptic neurotransmitters  made a connection between my lover and dopamine production and thus intensified my feelings for him which vetoed all sense of logic. Google it. I happily obsessed over him because it was being reciprocated, and I didn't see how I was subconsciously building up irrational expectations for him to maintain this incredible high. We foolishly declared how much we wanted to feel this way forever! Not his fault, not my fault, it was just the way it was.

The tragedy with infatuation is that 1) it's not reality, 2) it screws up judgement and 3) it's not sustainable. It's a dangerous stage, and sometimes it will turn into a healthy, long term relationship (if you actually find the right person)...but I think more often than not it just ends and you feel like shit. I panicked like an unreasonable, lovestruck girl when I sensed he wanted more space and therefore, got put into the 'crazy' category. Guys, please confirm but I'm pretty sure I know this already: If a guy puts a girl in the crazy box, you don't EVER get out of the crazy box. Sigh. It's like guys getting put into the Asshole box. Or worse, the Friend box. UNFAIR FOR EVERYONE but since when was life ever fair?

Events that unfolded after this incident made it clear to me that it was not love. Damn it, hindsight always kills me. Usually it might have taken me weeks to figure out, but I'm so much wiser now. If he had loved me, he would not have put me in the Crazy box. If I had loved him, I wouldn't have whined about him wanting to do what was most important to him. I wouldn't have been a selfish little moron trying to keep him all to myself. If he had really loved me, he wouldn't have shut down and pulled away from me. If I had really loved him, I wouldn't have looked at him like he was magic but instead with loyalty and kindness. If we had loved each other, we would have tried to work things out. Love is about putting each other first, and making them feel secure and supported. Real love is accepting each other and seeing each other clearly, then choosing to commit to them anyway. 

So I failed at falling in love. HAHA! Figures. It was only seven days, but the withdrawals are painful, and oddly feel quite similar to heartbreak. As in, it hurts. I could have loved him, if he had stuck around-but the fact that he didn't just shows it wasn't meant to be. I feel much, much better though after writing/processing this...and you know what? Next time I'll know the difference. I know there will be a next time because I'm actually not crazy. In fact, I'm going off to be amazing now. I love my bed.