Travel

My Wandering Heart

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India photo op 

“Making the decision to have a child – it is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.”   ~Elizabeth Stone

Right now, if the above saying is true, my heart is walking around India. On Saturday, we drove our oldest to the airport at 7:30 a.m. so he could board a flight to Asia with fifteen classmates and three of their high school teachers. We had spent the better part of two weeks making sure he was geared up for this trip, both mentally, physically, and personally. We bought him the requisite power adapter and made sure he had adequate, quick drying clothing along with several sticks of deodorant we knew he would need in the 100 degree summer-in-India weather. Oddly, both my husband and I were calm and collected as we said our goodbyes to Joe and left him at the airport to embark on a 24-hour travel day, including a 15 hour flight from Newark to Mumbai, without us. There were no tears or histrionics, not even in the car on the ride home. I’m not sure how we pulled it off.

The decision to let your child travel without you is a leap of faith. Like a child learning to ride a bicycle, we began with training wheels. First, we sent Joe to the Pine Ridge Reservation in South Dakota to do some service work for five days during his freshman year. Last summer, we left him for a week at summer camp at the foot of Long’s Peak. This past March, Joe went to Grand Cayman to earn his scuba certification. Each time we let him go, he returned a little braver, stronger, and more self-possessed. Each time he left, we grew a little more resigned to the reality that he really is growing up.

Each time Joe has gone away, he has done so without a phone. For the trip to India, we were given the option to get him a cellular plan or let him take his iPad and use hotel Wifi to reach out when he could. For us, it was a no brainer. We weren’t sending him halfway around the world so he could ride in a van creating bunny-eared Snapchat photos as India teemed with life around him. He was traveling with responsible people who would be updating us and who had cell phones. He didn’t need his. He would experience more without it.

It never occurred to me that not letting him take his phone might seem foolish. It wasn’t until I was met with incredulity from other parents regarding my son’s phone-less status that it even crossed my mind that our actions might be beyond the pale. How could I let my son go halfway around the world without a way for me to check in on him? What if he needed me and was unable to get a Wifi signal? What if there was an emergency? I don’t let my son walk 1.5 miles to Target without his cell phone. What the hell was I thinking sending him to ASIA without one? I questioned my sanity.

Then while talking to another mom with a child on the trip, she showed me the app she uses to track her son’s whereabouts. She showed me exactly where our kids were at that moment, in their hotel, near a hospital in Mumbai. That was when I remembered why we sent him without a phone. As uncomfortable as it may be for a mother’s heart, this is Joe’s experience. He deserves the room to have it his own way without constant input and monitoring. If something comes up, he can be trusted to to figure it out. What he needs is the freedom to experience India and Sri Lanka without my two-cents.

Right now, it’s 1:35 a.m. in Mumbai, and my second heart is probably sleeping, exhausted after a day touring the slums of Dharavi and viewing that world through its first-world, teenage boy filter. My second heart, the one I grew over nine months and delivered into the world seventeen years ago, is having an 18-day adventure in life in southern Asia. It’s feeling and stretching and evolving. It’s not simply going through the motions and it’s not staring at its phone. It’s living in the moment unencumbered by its usual reality. That is worth a little sacrifice and emotional malaise on my part, being out of instant touch with my boy, one of my favorite people on this planet.

I won’t feel whole again until my heart is back with me. When it gets here, though, it’s going to be fuller than it has ever been. And the experience it has had will be a gift to me, not only because Joe will have grown in ways he never could have without this solo journey but because this time apart has given me an appreciation for what an open, curious, resilient person we’ve raised. He’s a rockstar, far braver than I was when I was his age.

Someday maybe Joe will give life to his own second heart and let it wander the world, adventuring without him, and he too will stretch and grow in ways he never imagined possible when he had only one heart.

Roll With It

Nothing ever goes away until it teaches us what we need to know.  ~Pema Chodron

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Sunrise on Haleakala with a couple hundred of strangers

Yesterday, I dropped my wedding band on the wood floor in our bedroom and I did something out of character. I stood there while it rolled away. In the past I would have gasped and dove for it like a bridesmaid lunging for the coveted tossed bridal bouquet. Don’t get me wrong. The impulse to drop to all fours and chase it was there. I simply didn’t act on it. There was reason to dive for it. There are formidable dust rabbits under our bed, which might have swallowed the ring whole. It could have rolled all the way to the back wall, and I would have had to face claustrophobia to extract it. It might even have traveled to a place out of sight from whence I might not be able find it for a while. Still, I stood there peacefully and did nothing. It was refreshingly bizarre.

I love that ring. Steve and I bought new wedding bands a couple years back when we were in Maui with the kids. We didn’t exchange matching bands at our wedding 22 years ago because I was young and thought I needed diamond rings. (Turns out I was wrong as my diamonds now live in boxes in drawers.) We first saw the Koa wood rings in Kauai years before. We fell in love with their sleek, earthy look and with the notion of perpetually having a piece of Hawaii with us, but we weren’t ready to commit the cash. While walking through a shopping area in Wailea in search of an iced, macadamia nut latte, though, Luke dragged us inside a fancy jewelry store to gaze at a model of an 18th century schooner. As we were on our way out of the store, we walked past a case holding the rings. This time we took them home.

I listened as the ring hit the floor and began its travels, but I didn’t turn around to watch it slip away. I heard it careen under the bed and keep rolling. Then something crazy happened. Instead of following the straight course I expected, it took a different trajectory and circled around and landed right next to where I was standing. It had gone under the bed but returned. When I heard the rolling cease, I found it two inches from my shoe. I hadn’t had to do a thing to save it. I just had to trust that it would work out fine.

This is a sublime metaphor for my life right now. Trust is not something I’ve been particularly strong at. I’ve been working to change that, to head away from being overwrought, reactionary, and high-strung. I grew up in constant fear of letting things get out of control and roll into the unknown. I was guarded and hyper vigilant and afraid of my own shadow. I couldn’t bear the uncertain, so I built walls to protect myself from it. That behavior served me when I needed it, but it also came at a cost as I passed on opportunities that might have led to adventure, fun, and potential future success and happiness. By remaining so paralyzed with the fear that I couldn’t handle the outcome of whatever might occur, I never allowed myself the opportunity to discover that perhaps the universe might, in its own inimitable way, lead me somewhere better that I had no idea existed.

I’ve grown since then. I have more faith in myself and others now. I have more faith in life and its process. I’m learning that by relaxing a little sometimes marvelous surprises arise. Sometimes you don’t have to do anything. You can ride it out and see where you land. The times I’ve escaped my comfort zone and given in to the unpredictable are some of the most precious memories I have. I’m happier and more powerful because of those experiences.

Koa wood, which is particularly strong and resilient, represents courage, boldness, and fearlessness. Literally translated, koa means warrior. I didn’t know that when we bought the rings, but it makes sense now that this is the ring I was meant to wear. I may not have been brave enough to go against the grain and choose something like it in my 20s, but I am not the same person now.  I am slowly leaving my past behind and becoming the warrior I was meant to be. And, like my ring when it hit the floor, I’m going to keep on rolling fearlessly and see where I land. I suspect it will be right where I need to be.

 

Justine 2.0 Eclipses The Original

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Our Nebraska eclipse home

Back in February, at the bequest of my eldest son, I added the eclipse on August 21st to our family iCalendar. Then I forgot about it. In April, Joe mentioned he wanted to travel to Casper, four hours north of us, to view the eclipse in totality. He told me this eclipse was a huge deal and we should make a plan. I shrugged it off. August was months away. I told him I would get to it. By early June when I finally got to it, there were no rooms available. No rooms. Zero. In Casper. Wyoming. No camping spaces anywhere within the Wyoming area of totality either. On AirBnB, houses were renting for upwards of $1k per night with a two-night minimum. I thought I was in a parallel universe. This is a state where you can travel for hours and see more pronghorn than people. Joe enjoyed a hearty told you so, and I ate crow and dug out Plan B.

So on August 21st, we awoke in Nebraska. Through ludicrous amounts of searching, I managed to discover a spot within the Nebraska area of totality to park our rPod trailer for a bona fide, eclipse-mania bargain of $50 a night (two night minimum, of course). We spent the previous night camped in a grassy field in the Morrill County Fairgrounds in Bridgeport with about fifty other families who also had put off nailing down an eclipse plan until the last possible moment. These likeminded procrastinators were my eclipse tribe, and we were poised to use our verified, paper, solar-eclipse glasses to see our magnificent star blotted out momentarily by our only satellite. We lucked out. The morning fog had burned off, and the Nebraska sky was clear, blue, and ready to oblige us with an unobstructed view.

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Rocking their eclipse glasses waiting for totality

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As midday became night

I struggle for sufficient words to describe what I felt as the moon eclipsed the sun. As a family we had made a conscious determination to spend our minute seven seconds of totality present in the moment and not absorbed with the misguided notion we could capture and catalog this singular experience with an iPhone. When the moon made midday in Nebraska into dusk and exposed me to a 360-degree sunset, I exclaimed to myself (but somehow loudly enough for my family to remember): This is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. It was incomparable. I could not hold back the tears.

I recount this personal tale not because I felt the world needed yet another #solareclipse2017 story, but because I realized on our way home from Nebraska that an older version of me, a Justine 1.0, would have missed the experience of totality. Being ever realistic and focused on the big picture, I would have done what many Denverites did. After finding lodging completely booked and reading road signs warning of high traffic and news articles advising travelers to bring extra cash, extra food and water, and emergency gas cans because of the unprecedented amount of day travelers expected to make the trek, I would have cut my losses and stayed home. I would have decided it wasn’t worth the risk or the expense or the vacation day hubby would take or the potential 8-12 additional travel hours in endless traffic or the missed first day of school for the boys. I would have determined that 93% of an eclipse was close enough. I would have told myself I would catch the next total eclipse in 2024. And I would have shared all those same rationalizations with my son in lieu of an apology for making him miss something he had been begging to see. I would have told him he had an entire lifetime to catch one later.

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The one photo I took during totality that proves you can’t capture an experience with an iPhone

But I am no longer Justine 1.0. I am Justine 2.0. Because of my sons, I am daily aware how short life is and how quickly time goes. I know you don’t always have a second shot, a do over, another day. I have learned sometimes if your intuition tells you something might be important, you have to take a leap. You have to decide the adventure is worth it. You have to make it a priority. You have to tell the myriad excuses to talk to the hand. We left the house Sunday night hoping to see a total eclipse, but knowing we might not. We discussed all the things that could go wrong, including rainy skies, running out of gas, and wasting hours in traffic to see not much more than we could have seen from our yard. We decided that at the very least we’d come out of this with an amusing anecdote of a crazy family trip. At most we would fulfill our expectations and maybe even be surprised by something greater.

We weren’t disappointed. Despite the glitch that left us scrambling for lodging at the last minute, Justine 2.0 proved a definite improvement over the earlier version. I’m starting to suspect that Justine 2.5, currently under development, will be even faster on the uptake.

True Story…And That’s No Bull

 

Park at your own risk…including damage by stubborn bulls

Life is funny. There you are, going along on autopilot, head down, cruising blindly through your day when suddenly something completely unexpected happens to remind you that you’re alive.

The day started out as our typical travel day. We were up at the butt-crack of dawn to head to the airport. Got there early, checked one bag, cruised through TSA-Pre and were sitting at our gate guzzling lattes with an hour to spare before our flight. (Don’t get me started on how early my husband finds it necessary to head to the airport. It’s been a 20-year battle for which I’ve only ever managed to negotiate a 15-minute delay in the alarm clock.) Flight took off and landed on time, we breezed through the rental car counter, and were quickly on our way to a top-rated, Trip Advisor restaurant for a Montana-sky-sized breakfast. So far, so good.

During breakfast we discussed our options for the day. It is rainy and cool here in Billings, so we decided to take a scenic drive to see some pictographs. The drive took fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes. Why is everything so much closer in a smaller town? So much for killing time before our family dinner meet up. As we checked in at the visitor center, we discovered the cave where the pictographs can be viewed was closed due to a rock slide earlier in the year. Bummer. We took a short walk around, but decided that cold and wet was no way to spend vacation. We got back in the car and discussed an art museum visit and a mansion tour. Both options were met with grunts and eye rolls. We negotiated a settlement. We would check in early at the hotel and, if the boys let their exhausted parents catch a quick nap, we would hit the pool. It was the most optimistic and ambitious plan we had all day.

The boys let us sleep about thirty minutes and then began their pacing. I could hear the drum beats getting louder and more insistent. The natives were getting restless. I gave in to the increasing volume, sat up to offer an ultimatum, and spied out the window a man on horseback in the hotel parking lot. Only in Montana. I mentioned it to the boys who ran to the window.

“There are three guys on horseback out here!” Luke exclaimed.

“What the….there are cops out here with rifles!” Joe added.

“What?” I questioned. “Are the rifles drawn?”

“Yes!” Joe exclaimed.

This piqued Safety Dad’s interest. He went over to the window to investigate. I gave up and crawled back under the covers, hoping to extract a few more precious moments of rest.

“There’s something on the ground back there behind the horse trailer,” I heard Steve report from the depths of my semi-conscious state. “The police keep walking back there and taking photos.”

I turned over toward the window and opened my eyes. They were all three lined up at the window, staring out of the partially drawn curtains like nosey neighbors.

“Why don’t you go walk around the hotel and see if you can figure out what is going on?” I suggested, hoping they would all leave so I could get some decent sleep.

Does this qualify as an Act of God?

Steve’s phone rang. He looked at it and mentioned it was a local number. I sensed something was amiss. The only person in Billings who would be calling us did not know we were here. Fifteen seconds into the call and I had determined we were involved in whatever was going on outside.

“I’ve got to go downstairs and meet a police officer,” he said. “Apparently a bull hit our car.”

“What?” I said, jumping out of bed. He repeated himself as means of explanation.

“I’ve gotta see this,” I said.

I started pulling on street clothes while the boys began grilling their dad about the phone call. Steve was anxious to get downstairs so we rushed out while I was still pulling on my sweater and boots. We headed down the stairs, four people armed with three iPhones for photos and social media updates.

We popped the fire door to the parking lot and saw a fire truck, wet, soapy pavement, and the rental car we had left in perfect condition looking no longer perfect. The hood was dented, the grill was cracked, and the plate had been knocked askew. Damn. Should have sprung for the rental car damage waiver. An officer approached us and told us that a bull had gotten loose from the stockyard downtown, run amok for miles, and ended up in the parking lot of the Hampton Inn. They had to put the frothing beast down. After they shot him, the bull lurched and fell onto our car for a moment before his last bit of adrenalin kicked in and he took off running around the corner to the other side of the hotel where he eventually died on a grassy lawn. You had to give it to the bull who saw the writing on the wall in the stockyard and stubbornly determined he would rather not end his life in a slaughterhouse and chose one last adventure instead. I tried to imagine us explaining it all to the rental car company, though. Dog ate my homework. Bull fell on my rental car.

Went out with a bang and not as a steak

Fire personnel were hosing off the sidewalks and parking lot, leading us to discern that the bull left a bloody trail before succumbing to his fatal wounds. The officer gave us a business card with his name and a case number, and we headed back inside to figure out how we’d be paying for the damage to the car. Steve waives insurance coverage every time we rent a car, citing that our credit card will insure us if necessary. I guess we’ll find out soon enough if that is true. In the meantime, we finish our trip here with a big, old bull-dent in the hood of our Nissan Sentra. And to think we’d fretted about the little paint scrape over the gas tank when we conducted the vehicle once-over before driving off the Alamo lot.

When I woke up on Friday morning, I could never have guessed that our rental car would be a victim of the running of the bull. Life is stranger than fiction…or at least as strange. I am convinced that things like this happen once in a while to remind you you’re alive. If only occasionally, life can be unpredictable. Pay attention, people. You just never know.

**We did actually settle the insurance claim through the credit card company as Steve expected and we got it all worked out. It took a year, almost to the day, but we eventually freed ourselves just like that bull.**

Unload The House And Upload The Memories

Happy boys visiting San Diego

Happy boys visiting San Diego

As my husband and I have gone along together over the past twenty years, one thing has become increasingly apparent to us: we spend too much money on things that don’t matter and not enough money on things that would truly increase our life satisfaction. We try not to dwell too much on money we’ve thrown away on pointless items because…well, it’s depressing. (I mean, seriously. A panini machine? Like we were going to be whipping up Cuban sandwiches on a daily basis? What the hell were we thinking?) We both agree, however, that the best money we’ve ever spent was for traveling or taking classes or participating in events. This is a very real phenomenon. Scientific research has proven that our satisfaction in life is tied more to experiences than possessions. A new possession might make us feel good in the beginning but, as soon as we adapt to it, the thrill is gone and that item becomes just another thing to take care of. As many couples our age are settling into bigger, nicer homes, we have spent long hours discussing our desire to downsize, to reduce the collection of crap we use once a year, to unload our baggage, and to make room in our budget for the things in life that stretch our minds and not our square footage.

Now, I say all this as if it’s going to be an easy transition for us. The truth is the exact opposite. We are long-time early adapters. When the new iPhone comes out, we’ve got it. Our thirteen year old son has already begun asking for the iWatch. We realize that as parents we’ve set a bad precedent, and we’ve got a long road ahead of us if we want to teach our children to be happy with what they have and to value life experience more than shiny, new toys. But we’re heading that direction, and we’re committed to proving to our children that it’s the best way to live.

Everything is awesome at Legoland!

Everything is awesome at Legoland!

To that end, my husband jetted off with our youngest to California this past weekend for a three-day, father-son trip made possible by a small bump in our income tax refund and my decision not to use it for a selfish, solo beach vacation. Luke had been telling us (for about six years) that he wanted to visit Legoland and, as he approached his 12th birthday next month, I realized he might just outgrow it before we managed to get him there. Deciding I could not let that happen, I booked a surprise trip for them. Last Friday, Steve and Luke headed to the airport bright and early to board a cheap, Spirit airlines flight to San Diego for Luke’s first trip to California. Over the three days, father and son visited the San Diego Zoo, Legoland, and the beaches in La Jolla and Carlsbad. Luke took his turn piloting the USS Midway. They enjoyed a harbor cruise. They walked on the beach and nearly stepped on sea lions that were resting in the sand. They skipped chain restaurants and sampled local cafes and coffee shops. As they went about their days, I received texts and photos. Each time a photo arrived, my heart smiled. Even though I wasn’t there with them, I couldn’t help but feel gratitude for their opportunity to experience new things together. And while the Lego set Luke procured at Legoland will eventually be broken apart and end in pieces in a large, plastic, storage bin in the basement, this trip will remain with him throughout his lifetime and will hopefully inspire him to reach continually for new experiences and to voyage to different places.

"Please except this doggy pen." Best thank you note ever.

“Please except this doggy pen.” Best thank you note ever penned by Luke.

When I awoke on Monday morning after their late-night return, I found a small treat they had purchased for me in California, a $5 token of their gratitude for my unilateral decision to send them on a trip they hadn’t planned on. The note, written by my thoughtful, dyslexic son, read: “Dear Mom, I love you and I am so greatful [sic] that you spent your trip money for me and dad to go to San Diego and please except [sic] this Doggy pen.” If I’d needed any proof that our decision to move from possessions toward experiences was the right choice, this was it.

Our sons are growing up so quickly. We’re inches away from the day when it will be woefully uncool to hang out with Mom and Dad, so we’re focusing now on using our time with our sons wisely. At the end of May, I will be taking our oldest son on a mother-son adventure to celebrate our birthdays. We too will be heading to California for three days so we can experience the Monterey Bay Aquarium, a place Joe has talked about for years. We have no plans other than to visit the aquarium and to drive along the coast to enjoy the ocean we are sorely lacking in Colorado. I’m looking forward to living in the moment with my teenage son as we both make discoveries on our own adventure. Hopefully, when the trip is over and only a memory, we will be able to see our lives with a new perspective, one that will remind us that it is not he who has the most toys in the end that wins.

“We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.” ~ T.S. Eliot

Peru Adventure – Final Day in Lima

An open air restaurant in Miraflores

An open air restaurant in Miraflores

On our last day in Lima, we knew we had a few things to cross off our list. We hadn’t yet made it into the main part of the city nor had we taken the time to visit a museum. We decided the best way to knock these things off our list would be to take a tour. We’d seen some red, double-decker tour buses touring the city during the earlier part of our visit. That seemed like the way to go. So after taking time to work on our repacking a bit, we made our way to the tour bus kiosk located in Parque Kennedy. Our earlier research told us that there should be a tour leaving early in the afternoon. We made it our mission to be on it.

After we purchased our tickets, we walked across the street to a local jugeria and sandwich shop. One of the things I’ve loved in the past about traveling to Central and South America is the freshly squeezed, tropical fruit juices that are readily available. So far on our trip, I’d missed out on this. I was not leaving this country without having a juice. I decided on a orange, pineapple, and strawberry juice and shared a grilled ham and cheese. It was a simple, comfort-food lunch and it was heavenly. Now all we had to do was keep the cats in Parque Kennedy from jumping into our laps to eat our food.

On top of the world...or at least on top of the bus

On top of the world…or at least on top of the Mirabus

The Mirabus tour began at 1:30. We boarded the bus and found our seats on the upper deck. As we were about to depart, the tour operator told us that we would need to watch our heads and be sure not to stand up while the bus was in motion due to low-hanging power lines. That got my attention. I looked up as the bus took off down one of the main thoroughfares in Miraflores and was surprised to see the faintest bit of blue sky peaking through the lightly overcast sky. Could it be that we would finally see some sun and blue sky in Lima the day we were leaving?

We toured through the Miraflores district and then into the upscale San Isidro district. I was enjoying the opportunity to see Limeños in the midst of their daily lives. Sometimes when you travel to a location that is very touristy, your view of what is normal life for the locals can become skewed. Riding down city streets during the midst of lunch time rush offered an opportunity to see men and women in business attire going about their usual routines. Lima is a bustling, lively city. It was fun to be in the thick of it.

Basilica Cathedral of Lima

Basilica Cathedral of Lima

The tour landed us in the Plaza Mayor where streets were closed off for a political rally. At the same time, a local cathedral was also having a street parade with the requisite pageantry. The area was so congested that we had to disembark and walk for a bit, which was fine with us. We entered the main plaza where riot police were ready near the political rally, just in case. One thing we noticed quite often in Lima is the number of uniformed, armed police officers on the street. They are everywhere, on foot, on bike, on horseback, and on motorcycle. The Limeños are under constant surveillance. There are cameras everywhere. The police presence was far more noticeable than it is in the States. Oddly, the predominance of uniformed police officers made me feel more safe in Lima. I’m sure some could argue the opposite.

The colonial-influenced architecture in this part of Lima is striking. What is interesting about it, though, is that it hasn’t been around as long as you would think. The Basilica Cathedral of Lima was built between 1535 and 1541. It was destroyed in a major earthquake in 1746 and then rebuilt. The cathedral, along with other structures in the Plaza Mayor, have been damaged and redone after multiple, strong earthquakes, the most recent one in 1940. Maybe that’s why the old looks so new here.

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Blue sky in winter at the Museo Larco

The main stop on our tour was to the Museo Larco. The museum is in a lovely, 18th century building that was actually build over a 7th century, pre-Columbian pyramid. The museum houses an impressive, privately-owned collection of Peruvian pre-Columbian artifacts, some dating back 4,000 years. It also houses a large collection of ancient, erotic pottery, which we ran out of time to see. It’s too bad too because that would have made for some amusing dinner conversation once again.

The tour ended with a lovely drive down the coast and back to Miraflores. The blue skies were fading with the sun, and our time in Lima was wrapping up as nicely as it had begun. We were worn out after 11 days in Peru and opted to return to our new favorite restaurant right around the block from the hotel for one last round of Pisco Sours and a flawless meal. Then it was back to the hotel for final packing preparations and to await our shuttle to the airport. We had an overnight flight this time, for which I was highly grateful. Amazingly, I slept most of the way home, a feat I nearly never accomplish. It must have been the fulfillment of a lifelong dream that gave me the peace of mind to rest. I’ve been fortunate enough to have had several “trip of a lifetime” experiences. Our time in Peru reminded me that nothing I can own is as important as spending money on experiences that will live a lifetime in my memory. So…where should I go next?

Peru Adventure – Cusco/Lima

July 15, 2014

Coffee!!!!

Coffee!!!!

After a lively, late night dinner with our tour group that included the opportunity to make our own Pisco Sours, surprisingly we were up early for our final morning in Cusco. Our first stop was to Starbucks. Don’t judge. Old habits die hard, and Starbucks has free wifi. And reliable caffeinated beverages. And we wanted to Facetime with our sons. We hadn’t seen their cute little faces in days. We were due.

Just another morning in Cusco city

Just another morning in Cusco city

This Starbucks store sits on the second floor of an old building right off the main plaza, so it offers a nice view of the city while you wait for your latte. While we were sitting there, a procession of local, Catholic school children was making its way down the street in front of the store. Some were dressed in uniforms. Some were in angel costumes. All were adorable. It was one of those scenes you just don’t get to see in suburban Denver, so we snapped a few photos to share with our kids.I don’t feel one bit bad for visiting that highly commercial, Seattle-based coffeehouse. The way I had it figured, we were supporting American workers.

Love how the locals use blankets as backpacks

Love how the locals use blankets as backpacks

With caffeine on board, we went out to find some final souvenirs before heading to the airport. Walking around the central area in Cusco is fun. The city is both modern and ancient. You’re just as likely to encounter a hip student on a cell phone as you are a woman in traditional dress walking an alpaca. We lucked out and ran into Ray while we were trying to decide the best place to buy some last-minute gifts. It’s great to have a local to give you tips when you’re not familiar with an area. They can be invaluable in suggesting restaurants and pointing you in the right direction for exactly what you need. It helps when that person is also energetic, fun, and an all-around nice person. I was glad to discover that Ray is on Facebook. Facebook, for all its absurdities, makes the world a bit smaller by allowing me to stay in touch with amazing people I meet along my life’s journey.

Salud!

Salud!

We got to the airport with time to spare before our scheduled departure. While we were sitting there waiting, Andrew went off to buy some snacks. He returned carrying a bottle of Inca Cola. We’d seen this on the menu nearly everywhere we went. Inca Cola is Peru’s answer to Coca Cola. It looks like Mountain Dew, but Ray told us it tasted like bubblegum. Andrew poured us each a sample in a plastic cup and we toasted to our trip and our successful completion of the Inca Trail. Salud! Turns out it does taste pretty much like bubblegum soda, which I thought would be horrific but really wasn’t as disgusting as I had imagined. Not saying I’ll be buying cases of it on Amazon or anything, but I always figure I’m better for every new thing I’m brave enough to try.

Dinner at Saqra

Dinner at Saqra

We arrived in Lima hungry and tired. When we checked in at our hotel for our last night, I pulled up TripAdvisor and looked for a restaurant nearby. Saqra was ranked #14 in Lima and, bonus, it was just around the block from the hotel. It was a definite find. The ambiance was modern, fun, and funky, and the food was delicious. Up until that point, the four of us had been fairly conservative about what we ate and drank because, well, we were nervous about being sick on the Inca Trail. But with our trek behind us, all bets were off. We started with our first official Pisco Sours of the trip. The night before we’d sampled them but didn’t commit. I finally understood why people rave about these drinks. They’re tasty, they hit you like a ton of bricks (hello…cheap date here), and despite the lovely buzz there were no ill-effects afterwards. We ordered a couple appetizers, Parmesan scallops (which were served on their lovely shells) and ceviche to start. Perfecto! I settled upon ravioli for my main course and was not disappointed. The most fun part about Saqra was the restrooms, which were infinitely more amusing after a Pisco Sour. There are two unisex rooms. One is decorated with walls covered floor to ceiling in padded, red vinyl. The other room is entirely mirrored. Neither was occupied, so I had my choice. I won’t share which one I drew me in first, but I will tell you that a second Pisco Sour and another glass of agua con gas guaranteed that I eventually got to experience them both. When I got back to the table, as gauche as it is, I mentioned that the restrooms were not to be missed. I was curious to see what room would intrigue my friends. I’m all about initiating spirited (and occasionally inappropriate) dinner conversation among friends.

After dinner, we were worn out from shopping, touring, sampling, flying, drinking, and laughing, so we called it an early night. We had to rest up for our last full day in the City of Kings. Tomorrow we would tour Lima, visit a museum, and enjoy one last Peruvian meal before boarding a red-eye back to the States. As excited as I was to see our boys, I was melancholy about leaving Peru. Or maybe it was merely the effect of my Pisco Sours wearing off.