My Forth and Final Trip to Cuzco and the Sacred Valley
Click on pictures to enlarge...

"Sometimes I go in pity of myself, and all the while, a great wind is bearing me across the sky."
Ojibwa Indian Proverb

"To my way of thinking, there is nothing more delightful then to be a stranger, and so I mingle with human beings because they are not of my kind, precisely to be a stranger amongst them."

Paul Bowles

But first, an introduction. The Quechua people of Cuzco love to put on public shows that demonstrate their skill in music, dancing, and ritual story telling. Here is a video of the splendid Dance of the Condors, performed on Cuzco's main square, the Plaza de Armas.
 
9/27/08 8:00AM
Seattle Airport
About to depart for Mexico City en route to Peru, Cuzco and the Sacred Valley. Accompanied by Ginsberg, Indian Journals, stellar, hallucinated travel masterpiece. Leaving USA at an extraordinary time in history... the economy days away from total collapse unless the fools in Washington can straighten things out in time. Today is Saturday, zero hour arrives on Monday or Tuesday. Credit evaporates, ATMs cease to function; total circulatory collapse. Like the fulfillment of prophecy, which it is, of course. Looks like 2012 is commencing right on schedule.

Put me down gently, my life is in your hands...

So what? The world is sick of us and we are sick of ourselves. So, what's an unemployed guy to do? Why, take a vacation, of course. I want to stroll through the capital of an ancient civilization destroyed by greed, corruption and arrogance, the same things that are destroying ours. Was the Spanish conquest with all its atrocities a five hundred year old foreshadowing of all that was to go wrong with America and the West?
America: an up and coming third rate country. May we not take the rest of the world down with us...

4:30PM
Mexico City Airport
Airline error in your favor. Collect one first class seat. They are definitely more comfy. Lots of leg room. Attendants pamper you with extravagant food and drink, all free. I'll be sticking to coach class in the future however. Airline error? Scheduling. I am leaving now for Lima instead of tomorrow. But that means changing my flight to Cusco with Star Peru. Also, I won't have time to visit the fabulous National Museum of Anthropology with its amazing Mayan and Aztec artifacts. So, fuck it. Hope Star Peru will do it for free. (They did.)

9/28/08
Lima Airport
Got even earlier flight to Cuzco, now here at 5AM and waiting. Arrived here from Mexico City like an arrow shot from a bow off the shores of Turtle Island. Approach to Mexico City: another to-the-horizons city in extent. Immense. Block after block of squat tenement buildings that look like they would topple over at the merest puff of wind. And a population of 18-20 million.

9/30/08
In Cuzco two days now, sick with cold and soroche. Slept for 48 hours! Bright, hot sunshiny morning to mid afternoon, then clouds and rain. Way past the tourist season, so the locals get to take their city back from the besieging mongrel hordes. Passed by the motorcycle rental place on Calle Saphi, lots of sleek new machines parked to the curb and beckoning.

Gonna pick one up for return trip down Sacred Valley. Cuzco heart breaking as usual, one of the worst scenes of Christian desecration in the New World, unless you consider all of North America for that dubious distinction. Should I consider such trivialities as the upcoming presidential election for inclusion here? It will be historic. Barack Obama, first Afro-American to run on a major party ticket. Democratic of course. Versus the pathetic, despicable John McCain, who it appears, has pawned all he once cherished to the gutter. And his unspeakably awful running mate, Sarah Palin. The worst VP selection in history, a paragon of stupidity and arrogance. Obama ahead at the moment. Better trot on down to the local Internet cafe to catch up on the latest bad news...

Later...in the sun splashed Plaza de Armas. So, the bailout measure has failed. Stocks plunge 778 points, biggest ever one day loss in history. So it goes. Back to the real world. It could not be a more beautiful day here in Cuzco. Still sick, the worst case of soroche ever. Have not eaten solid food in three days. If the touts here on the Plaza only knew how close to destitution I am myself. Ah! The cool spray from the fountain downwind of me! Nausea, heartburn, gas, fatigue. None of this is helped by the fact that my friendship with MAR appears to be over...She reminds me of the old Lightnin' Hopkins song "Ball of Twine." So, while I'm trying to get through this without too much self pity, it still hurts a lot. Inca sun, dry up my tears...!

10/01/08

Over the soroche thank god. Still a bit shaky though. I'm back on the Plaza, half hoping to meet up with Delphina. Where could she be? In Lima probably, peddling her sad wares. Hard to resist the old Quechua grandmothers wrapped in their blankets, toothless and imploring. Bought two dolls from one of them yesterday. Met with Frank, the renter of motorcycles, to kick start my tour of the Sacred Valley soon as I'm able.

For now, it is agreeable to hang out in Cuzco and observe the ebb and flow of humanity and watch from the outside as the USA slowly implodes.

 McCain victory would spell disaster for the cosmos. Could Americans possibly be that stupid? Alas, yes. I feel good in a cosmopolitan, world citizen sort of way but cut off from family and friends, what few I have left. The sun, when it comes out, leans down and positively licks you with a sultry intensity. Eventually, you are compelled to seek shelter. Love the scent of wood smoke in the air and the sound of zampona pan pipe music amidst the colorful swirls of ponchos and mantas and long plaits of black braided hair.

The Plaza street people are earnest and hard working and I'm a sitting duck here. Been hit up a dozen times in thirty minutes...

In general, the Peruvian people seem a happy lot. They don't have huge investments to worry about or prodigious numbers of material possessions to store and protect. Expressions range from tranquil to bemused; quick smiles and kind demeanors. Police and security people friendly and relaxed. Now sitting next to elderly Quechua woman worlds apart culturally and linguistically but one in our common human origins. You feel that a lot here.

I hardly have the strength to get up and take photos, an activity I'm feeling less inclined to do. You don't make friends in third world countries with a $2000 camera hanging around your neck. That's where the eyes go first, the expensive bauble you're carrying and then your face. Happy Peruvians! Their country is not a crumbling empire, hated around the world and the butt of nasty jokes from Lima to Peking. They are not an embarrassment to the common human values of decency and kindness, the only currency that has value anymore...

I can now state unequivocally that the cell phone has become the universal human accoutrement. They hang on the belts of everyone here, from every walk of life. I remember how surprised I was when I first saw them in large numbers in Lisbon ten years ago.

Time to get up and walk a bit...

10/2/08
Went back to the Central Market yesterday. I was worried that it, too, had been demolished. So
extraordinary. The cool, darkened interior bustling with activity. Young Indian mothers with their children playing nearby with all the goods of Peru on display. Looking for coca leaf, old
proprietress must have read my mind as I passed by. She promptly produced a small bag of leaves with the requisite hunk of hardened ash, perfect. Wandered about taking pictures and met beautiful, long haired blonde aging hippy from California, originally from Germany. We talked a bit, she's been traveling since she was eighteen. Heading up to Machu Picchu tomorrow. She's looking for a comb. We drink a glass of papaya and orange juice together. Had my first chew this morning, which buoyed me up for a while then left me feeling nauseous. Another intensely bright day in the Plaza.

Bad news from America. "Bailout" package headed for approval but stocks keep dropping. VP debates tonight, Biden vs. Palin. Big deal. Obama still leading in the polls.

Old Quechua man approaches, shows me his tattered clothing and shoes. Give him 50 soles, about sixteen dollars, a small fortune.

Hostel Sumaq Tikaq, Calle Tanda 114, high up in the San Blas district. Beautiful little corridor of greenery leads up to the entrance. Might just move camp up here. Now looking for Plaza Nazarenas and the ethnographic museum...

10/3/08
Yesterday finally stumbled upon the object of my quest, the exquisite Museo de Atre Precolombino. Cool and dark inside, it's more like a chapel, a holy place, than a museum, and so it is. Laid out in five or six medium sized rooms are the beautifully crafted artifacts in wood, metal, ceramics, bone and shell from six successive civilizations in Peru. (Nasca, Mochia, Hurari, Chancay, Chimu, and Inca.) Some of the works are beyond beautiful, defying definition in subtlety of execution, especially Hurari. This museum is worth all the cathedrals in Cuzco put together. People walking through the various galleries speak in hushed tones, as though to confirm their sacred status. Could not help contrasting these lost civilizations with our own, now stumbling and crashing its way towards oblivion.

The final flower of Peruvian civilization crushed by arrogance, greed and cruelty. Now these forces have turned on us, they've come to pay us a visit and it may be our turn to fall by the wayside. Let it come down!

Biden wins VP debate.

Peru, the new center of world spirituality. Been thinking of taking the ayahusca ceremony with Kush. Went to his shop in San Blas yesterday just in time to catch sight of the latest New Age fad: ayahusca tourism! Kush is becoming known as the Cuzco shaman. Big, over weight kid comes lumbering in to inquire about the ceremony. He speaks with Kush's beautiful wife. Cost is $85, meet at shop for 4k drive into mountains, all night affair. We talk a bit outside. He seems as unlikely a candidate for ayahusca as could be imagined, but perhaps I'm being elitist. He's just the latest of a new generation hitting the Hippy Highway for kicks and enlightenment. Wasn't I on that road at one time? Ah me, I wish him luck.

Satori in Cuzco! It's a good place for it.

I see its potential as a major center of spiritual practice and learning once purged of its tourist trappings after The Fall, heh heh...I can imagine countless hostels, restaurants and shops converted into classrooms, yoga and meditation halls, and centers for learning the Old Ways. All the essential elements are here - stupendous natural beauty, agreeable year around weather, a powerful legacy of indigenous, earth based spirituality, a bountiful, organic agriculture capable of supporting a large community, and access to native entheogens. Something would have to be done about the drinking water however, presently toxic to outsiders.

Well, too nice a day to waste, maybe head on up to Sacsayhuaman. (Bought ticket back to Lima for return trip on the 19th, $215.) While all America is doom and gloom, here in Cusco I'm sitting in the delightful Plaza Regocigo. Bright sunshine, gushing fountain, zampona music, children playing and oh yes, beautiful young women everywhere. Feeling much better today, might be up for ayahusca ceremony next week. Pigeon touts dance for bread crumbs, no shit!

Man in orange shirt approaches and begins to speak to no one in particular. He appears to be reciting something, or giving a speech or sermon of some kind. He departs as abruptly as he came, only to approach another bench, where he begins his speech again.

10/4/08

Yesterday, late afternoon, sound truck drove down Calle Saphi announcing in a shockingly sinister and robot-like voice some gathering or demonstration down on the Plaza. Didn't bother going but for hours I could hear loud, exclamatory speeches that droned on and on. I know little of the political or social fault lines that underlie Peruvian social and political life. You have Spanish, Quechua, Ayamara, Mestizo, and Amazon Rain Forest Basin tribes, interests and enclaves, plus a revival of the Maoist Shining Path (Sendero Luminoso) terrorist lunacy "movement." They can only be encouraged by the success of the Maoist rebels in Nepal, who now run the country. Pachandra is now the fucking prime minister! Who would have believed that possible just two years ago? Given the extreme poverty here, especially amongst the indigenous people and a bitter history of conquest and colonization, you have all the ingredients for a Maoist styled uprising. Talk of revolution in America was a load of bullshit I thought. I doubt whether all the demonstrations, marches, be-ins, college take overs or other confrontations with "the establishment" resulted in even one less bomb being dropped on Vietnam or one less nuclear device being assembled. The military-industrial complex ruled unerringly then as it does now. No rag tag, slogan chanting rabble of students or ghetto dwellers was ever going to change that. Today we have the "political spectacle," that finely crafted show piece made for popular consumption by the evil doctors of propaganda, where everyone learns to pull the right levers like trained squirrels. And so the demonstration here yesterday? An old fashioned, outdoor propaganda show. Beware of the theoreticians!

Back to the Internet. What are the inhabitants of the monkey house up to now?

Up to Sacsyhuamen. The shattered remains of a Puma sculpture that encompassed all of Cuzco in Inca times. Sacsy was the jaws of the beast. It was the vision of brilliant urban planning and mythology that joined heaven and earth in a consummate embrace.

10/5/08

Headed for Pisac by motorcycle. Soroche gone but I've got a cold and the air temperature is chilly - especially on a motorcycle. Didn't bring much in the way of a wind breaker. Big market day today though. Sun's out and brilliant at 7:30 AM.

10:30 AM In Cararo
Things have changed. New, separate area for the artesemo. The old man with the exquisite Incan artifacts is gone. Now they just offer the usual fare - mass produced knick knacks and so-so textiles. Moving on to Pisac on Honda 250cc dirt bike. Every time I stop I'm like a grounded albatross. Bike is heavy and unwieldy so I flounder to stay upright. The day is sunny with big puffy white clouds. I may not be able to do this much longer. Failing strength in legs and arms, to say nothing of my deplorable back condition hobbles me like a lame beast of burden. Splendid backdrop of mountains here. Nice, authentic Andean folk music being played over primitive PA system, similar to Bolivian music heard in La Paz a few years ago. The people in Cararo appear to be Mestizo, if not pure indigenous. The Apus are powerful here. Who could not help but pray to them? It is amazing how far up the mountain sides the farmers cultivate their fields. Time to move on. Apus protect me!

9:30 PM
Back from Pisac. Fell of the goddamned motorcycle at least five times. Pisac now is huge, at least four times bigger than it was in 2003. It has become a victim of its own success. Every building is packed with all manner of tourista gewgaws. Fancy restaurants and bars compete everywhere for the tourista buck. It’s even starting to look like a posh fashion venue in some large city. The central square is still the focal point of selling, gossiping, and socializing, but radiating off from the square are streets full to overflowing with every conceivable tourist trinket known in Peru. Everything has a newly minted look to it. The streets are now paved with very sturdy and serviceable stone work. New carpentry and glass-work gives it the “Aquas Caliente“ look. Well, that’s alright I guess. Many of the once penurious locals have grown prosperous from Pisac’s popularity with tour operators. Today the place looked like an ant hill. The original village had vanished beneath the tramp of innumerable camera toting tourists like me. The tourista buck strikes again, turning quaintness into cheap commercial fodder. Took a few good pictures. Still learning how to use this beast of a camera (Nikon D300.) So, to document the trip: take pictures, video, record sound and music, make journal entries, buy local CDs, collect choice artifacts: these are all your travel documentary assets. Gonna video the Central Market soon. Then gather everything together for editing, the fun part. This blog is just such a multi-media undertaking.

10/6/08

Why should it be that all good things that come to pass usually end badly? The hardy little stone temple that housed the purple and orange flame has been demolished. The flame itself has guttered and gone out. And so I am bereft because that little flame was nurturing and now I feel the cold tatters of distress and loss. I am distraught and undone and trembling like a leaf. My eyes stare out in all directions and my tongue cleaves to the roof of my mouth. My breath is a stench and a pestilence. Cold showers of disgust and rivulets of shame percolate through my innards and my bowels are loosened. I gag on the acrid taste of vomit. I so fear what is to come, I feel so unready to engage friend or foe alike and that all besotted I must take to the road of the wanderer, the drifter, the outcast. Do not all occasions inform against me? Ah Mary, I wish you were here. I think I know what you were going through. And you Larry and you Paul and you Ben. You showed me what it was to be undone in this life, to be naked and shivering, receiving indifference where you had hoped to find comfort. The Great Adjudicator has tallied up the cost of our upkeep and presented us with the bill. Your life! Your life! Your life! Cloud ear, rain tongue, the taste of brackish water on parched lips; piss, shit, mucous, blood, spittle and bile vomited up to all glory? Final eye, nose, tooth, nails, skin, hair and entrails consumed on the funeral pyre, the burning ghat belching smoke to all glory? Stench of all smell, abomination of all sight, deadened ash of all taste. I touched my dead father’s forehead and felt the last of his bodily warmth fly up and hover away into kingdom come. The forces of decomposition set in long before you are dead I discovered. My poor dear old dad! A fine mesh of black and gray filamentous mildew blotched his shoulders and chest while dementia tugged at and deformed his extremities into a grotesque rictus like a mummified ape. The eyes oozing! The mouth agape! the tongue protruding!

Shooting star mercury contrails in bright blue dots, wisps, and flashes. Begging bowl guerdon, patched robe and tattered straw sandals, as pathetic as a condemned man’s last meal.

Fuck it. Tonight I dine with the gods.

Fasting today? I hadn’t meant to. The return of healthy hunger is a good sign. I’ll go out in a while...

Flying down the Sacred Valley on a motorcycle is a thrill unlike any other. Urabamba River snaking silver in the distance. The cragged and eroded faces of immense cliffs, scoured and gouged out by wind and rain in all the primal colors of the earth. Going back in the other direction towards Cuzco, it all fell away over my right shoulder into immensities of space. Heightened sense of speed, of falling and being caught and falling again, away and away into the depths of the earth and back again. And flying up and up to condor highway heavens, blessed Apus you favored me. Zampona flute in the wind. Dark lengths of black braided hair falling down the backs and shoulders of native women chewing coca leaf in the market place. Old soup mouth eating his gruel and licking greasy fingers. Quechua mother trades drum stick for ice cream cone. Fresh orange juice, boiled rice and lentils, crust of bread and fat kerneled corn. Fragrance of parsley, mint, and garlic. Smoking coffers of meat! Steaming baskets of corn! Harangue, sell, barter, exchange, the smell of dust and old coins in the hot afternoon sun. Tincture of ayahusca in the shaman’s kettle, beautiful, doe-eyed attendant generously shows off her ample cleavage. Rare jewels dance from her pierced nipples. Belly button silver rings and twists of gold and silver tendrils, solar plexus tattoo radiating Panchmama potencies. Orb of sun on right elbow, crescent moon on left, sandalwood scent rises on curly cue clouds of incense...

Ah Christ! They won’t be there for me!

I will protect myself Bhikus, thus shall the foundations of mindfulness be established. And by protecting myself, I will protect others. Protecting oneself Bhikus, one protects others. Protecting others, one protects oneself. Thus should the establishments of mindfulness be practiced.

Nursing mothers! Breasts of burnt ivory! Oh yeah Panchamama! Sweet succulent mother’s milk, purple swollen nipples, eager lapping infant tongues. In the shade of the central square, Mom’s sweet smile.

Do not do the slightest thing that the wise would later censor. With good will to the entire cosmos, cultivate a limitless heart, above, below and all around, unobstructed and without hostility or hate whether standing, walking, or lying down. Sublime abiding here and now.

More bad news - world economic markets in chaos. Dow drops 800 points, then recovers a bit. Below 10,000 for the first time in years. Success of bailout uncertain. More panic as insect-like humans try to figure out the percentages. Uncharted territory! Economic meltdown! Rough ride ahead and a presidential election thirty days away. A dirty and desperate John McCain wallows in shit with his VP choice Sarah bitch. The prophecies are coming true, the only ones I've ever had the slightest belief in. Will 9/11 be remembered as a prologue to the new Dark Ages? Is it the end of times? I've always scoffed at such notions, but I fervently hope so. Let it come down!

Ah yes, the prophecies...

10/7/08

Bad news continues. No one knows quite what to do, as though the momentum of failing global economies has taken on a life of its own, defying any single or combined strategies to stop it. Deep global recession, if not depression now seems inevitable. Obama-McCain second debate tonight. Obama could score knockout punch to an increasingly enfeebled McCain. Obama must win the presidency as a prelude to stabilizing global turmoil. McCain/Palin? An unspeakable nightmare. America falls into the gutter. God, what times these are! A confluence of forces and events that will change the world forever. And right on schedule for the 2012 global transformation. I wish Terrence McKenna were alive to see it. I have never seen the lines between good and evil more clearly drawn. I rather like watching it unfold here in rustic Peru. It is truly a fitting place to be as American styled economics and politics unravel and begin, perhaps, their final descent into oblivion. Even if it means personal ruin for me, I hope it happens. Time for The Breaking of The Vessels! Time to bring back the sanity and renewal of the Green Corn Ceremony! I am a world citizen, not an American citizen. I look forward to the new age of global unity in government, economics, ecology, art, science and spirituality, a shared, inclusive human destiny and purpose. A telepathic global awareness. The coming forth of oneness through the Gaian Mind. No borders, armies or countries with insane hegemonic ambitions. But only if the good guys win? Or will it be a natural, cosmic transformation in which only progressive imperatives are subsumed. Will it be a truly evolutionary change or a step backwards into witch hunting and internecine tribal warfare, leading to ecological collapse and loss of species diversification? Will the good guys win? Or is this just another utopian boondoggle?

11:30PM
McCain screwed up big time tonight. Referred to Obama as “that one.” He is finished. Only the dirtiest, stupidest Americans will vote for him now. Dow tanked again today, down 500. So, good news, Obama will surely triumph, barring some last minute dirty trick-of- all-times by Republican swine. Bad news, economy has its hooks in me.

10/8/08

Sixth straight day of decline in the stock market. World wide recession is now predicted. Are we approaching the tipping point? How nice, for now, to be in cheerful, colorful Cuzco. I can live with less if I have to. Travel over the past twenty years has taught me that. I never trusted this boom and bust American economy, much less American politics, foreign and domestic. They always pander to the worse in human nature and indeed it has been the shitty dregs of Wall Street that have brought us down. They and their shitty underlings and the stupidity and greed of the American people. The people is a great beast, as one of the Founding Fathers once put it. Madison? Jefferson? Anyway, I have no sympathy for them. It would do America a world of good to be brought down a notch or two or three. America: an up and coming third rate nation! Hahaha!

It's raining gently outside of my cozy little Hostel Familiar room. Today, wandered about with video camera. A few nice candid moments with Cuzco street folks, then a full blown Cuzco religious festival. The Virgin and the Saint carried before fully costumed dancers, each troop with its own brass, drum, and wind-wood ensemble. Lots of fun and mummery as devil figures ran around grabbing and harassing anyone one they wanted. One flailed my legs with a rope whip and another grabbed me from behind and danced me crazily along, all in good fun. It was quite a spectacle and I got some outstanding shots. The color, sound, fury and just plain good fun was bracing and uplifting compared to the bad news outside. Is this not one of the reasons for staging festivals like this? Same for Carnival. Drink, dance and be merry and let the troubles of the outside world go to hell. And the beautiful Peruvian women and girls showing ample flesh was the perfect spice for this occasion. A wild combination of Christian, pagan and indigenous traditions. I can think of a dozen places I would rather live than America...

Earlier in the day bought beautiful shamanic pouch from Kush's shop in San Blas. He is busy these days with his "ayahuasca tourism" gig and lots of people here in Cuzco are getting in on the act. Anyone it seems, can hang out their shaman shingle and start serving up ayahuasca "ceremonies." Taped local couple in back streets who do just that. They were friendly and welcoming but would I trust them to properly administer to me while in full ayahuasca trance? Think I would rather stick with more experience practitioners like Kush or maybe the good shaman and his partner I met in Pisac.

10/9/08

Connie's birthday. Sent her an email.

8:40PM

Dire, desperate news. Stocks tanked again today, a 679 point plunge. Economies are collapsing all over the world. I have always tried to be optimistic at times like this, but not now. I think world wide economic collapse is imminent, ushering in god knows what. Iceland appears to be the first country to belly up. Forces have been unleashed that no one can control or stop. Here in Peru, people seem serenely indifferent. I, of course, face personal ruin. Rough, rough ride ahead.

10/10/08 10:00AM

Economies continue to collapse the world over as panic selling sets in. Dow fluctuating wildly. Some experts give only to the end of this weekend for world governments to come up with a plan to head off a worldwide wholesale depression and collapse. My own personal savings would almost certainly be wiped out. The nature of the forces spreading throughout the world appear to be karmic as well as economic. Economic forces can be ameliorated to some extent; karmic forces are implacable.

2:00PM
Hit the Internet for six hours straight and watched in disbelief as American and world markets continued to collapse. Meanwhile, McCain has descended into race baiting and hate filled inflammatory rallies against Obama. He is creating a unique place for himself in the history of American infamy. Never in my life have I witnessed a more disgusting fall from honor. There won’t be much of the old man left after the election which he will certainly lose. My own status in this debacle is sure to be dire. I have lost many thousands of dollars from my IRA. Can’t bear to find out how much. Thousands. (Actually, it was tens of thousands.)

Beautiful day in Cuzco. I probably shouldn’t have come. But now that I’m here, I don’t regret it. Here’s a video of the two Cuzco hippies I met on a backstreet of San Blas, offering the ayahuasca ceremony, reminiscent of Haight Ashbury in 1968!

My predicament nearly: unemployed, broke, no health insurance, bad back, and economy crashing towards final ruin. Well, these are interesting times. If I can just hold on into comfy old age and collect my government welfare check. I have never felt so caught up in the play of historical events as I am now.

Cuzco sure is a pretty little town after the tourists have left. Flowers, sunshine, smell of freshly cut grass. Home in a week to an uncertain future.

Hospeda Je Familiar, 253 Munay Wasi - my kind of place. Cheap, run down, colorful, of the people. Bright and sunny as only Cuzco can be. Plan to rent a little scooter and explore more Cuzco back streets. They are plentiful and mysterious. If only my pale white skin could turn coffee brown like the natives’. I’m happy to see some of the touts finding receptive tourists for their postcards and CDs. I don’t suppose they do so badly after all. Old Quechua grandmother on walking stick, stooped and imploring. No denerio? Smile and a shrug. Harsh sunlight at mid-day. Nothing casts a shadow. Policia Nacional Comisaria hover harmlessly about.

10/13/08

Rented simpler motorcycle for out of town explorations, i.e. Chinchero, Maras, and finally Moray. Chinchero, like Pisac, has been spiffed up to bring in more tourists. Picturesque as always but nothing new. Bought a beautiful old brass llama bell from pretty vendor Jualia. Gasped for breath (Chinchero at 13,000 ft.) to the amusement of the locals. Onward to Maras. I had forgotten how magnificent the plains and mountains are. Drove down the narrow streets of Maras lined with mud brick buildings reminiscent of the American southwest and this time found the proper turn off for Moray. Long, bumpy ride down rutted gravel road, overshot Moray by a mile or so, turned back and arrived at last. Pretty cool indeed. Huge concentric terraced construct beautiful to behold, used as experimental agricultural station, each terrace representing a different micro-climatic environment to test crop viability. Walked around and explored it from different angles. Had the place all to myself. Another example of Inca ingenuity. Here's what I saw approximately:

Back through Maras, a timeless mud brick city, to Urabamba, a timeless squat and unsightly city clinging to the haunches of the Urabamba River. Took wrong turn back to Cuzco. Should have gone back through Chinchero. It's getting late and it's starting to rain. I begin a three hour cold and punishing return to Cuzco. Before the light of day fades entirely however, many beautiful sights. First of all, the sheer immensity of the landscape I am passing through. I have never felt more physically diminished by mountains, rivers, clouds and distant fields in cultivation. I fall into the bottomless vortex of these elements as I drive and experience a sort of delicious vertigo. Distant snow covered peaks glow a pale unearthly orange in the setting sun, before all is plunged into darkness. I fly along anonymous roadways without much to guide me. The feeble flickering headlamp of my puny little motorbike is just sufficient to guide me around precipitous twists and turns along the way until I reach Calca, a fairly large town and a near disastrous doggy encounter. I see him out of the corner of my eye on the left as I approach an intersection and suddenly the little fucker is heading right my way on a collision course. I feel a soft bump or two as he passes under the wheels, yelping in fear and pain I guess. Tough shit! I barely manage to stay upright and seated but keep the hell on going and so it goes for what seems like an eternity. I’m wet, cold, and worry about hypothermia but plunge on. Tailgated by buses and trucks, blinded by the lights of oncoming traffic, it all seems to be getting more and more treacherous. By the time I reach Cuzco I am exhausted and shivering uncontrollably, so much so that I can barely steer the bike. I make one last desperate turn onto Calle Saphi and finally bump into the rental place where Jualio the proprietor is anxiously waiting. All is well as I get off sore and stiff and near frozen. I stumble across the street to my Hostel Familiar room and fall into exhausted sleep.

10/14/08

So today, Tuesday, I’m sick again. Got some of the goddamned unsanitary local water in my mouth while taking a shower and now having filthy, mucousy, diarrheic shits and then vomit on top of that. Misery! By any standard of comfort, this has been a terrible trip. I’ve been sick and exhausted most of the time between adventures, but all and all worthwhile. Maybe one more trip to Ollantaytambo before I leave.

Stocks are up, yesterday and today over 900 points! But what can all these wild gyrations mean but more instability and uncertainty. Obama continues high in the polls thank God...

Warm and pleasant in the Plaza today. Ever since I overpaid for a shoe shine on my first day here all the shoe shine kids in the Plaza have offered their services "for only" 50 soles. Haha but I’m only that generous on my first day of arrival, in gratitude. Then I’m off the hook?

10/16/08

Sickness finally drove me to seek medical assistance for the first time ever in a foreign country. I was in such pain this morning I was practically crawling on all fours. Sharp, agonizing pains in the gut, dry heaving vomit of yellow bile while I’m shitting in my pants. The pits. Two pairs of underwear were so utterly soiled I just threw them away. Took taxi way across town to “Panamerican Emergency Hospital,” a very nice walk-in clinic. I am interviewed by an attractive lady doctor who spoke little English but I managed to say in Spanish, “mucho delorous“ while pointing to my stomach. They hook me up to an IV and soon I am relieved of both stomach pain and nausea. They give me a little plastic bowl to poop in for a stool sample but I can’t squeeze out a single drop! So, they give me a scrip for Cipro and send me back.

10/18/08

Back in Lima. Seven hour wait for flight to Mexico City, then another six hour wait for flight to Seattle. Milling about of local and international riff-raff. Feel tired and crappy.

10/19/08

Mexico City Airport again after long and uneventful flight from Lima. I am in the cavernous main concourse. A bit cold and forbidding. Sounds echo and murmur off into an inchoate white noise that envelops you, actually rather soothing, like the old Grand Central Station in New York City.