ON PERU
In March of this year, Quintin and I tried our hand at remote working. In theory, I’m a fan. In practice… the jury is still out. We spent (4) weeks in Peru and we worked (3) of the (4) weeks, taking (1) week off to do the Ausangate Trek. My main takeaways on remote work are as follows:
If you’re going to work while traveling, it’s probably best to pick a home base you’re not desperate to explore from top to bottom.
If you do pick a place you’re desperate to explore from top to bottom, make sure that place is in a different time zone than your work hours so you can explore during the day and work during the evening.
Pick a place where there’s nothing to do but stare at the scenery. You can do this from a patio while on a Zoom call.
Peru, with its stunning – but remote – landscapes and same-time-zone-as-home work schedule, was the opposite of the aforementioned. I spent the whole month in a low-grade frenzy, feeling like I wasn’t dedicating enough energy to work or play. *****she could not have it all****
Before I get into the roses, buds and thorns, a few tidbits on Peru:
First, we continued our tradition of asking our guides their take on who the most famous Peruvian is. There are two – Mario Vargas Llosa & Alberto Fujimori. Nobody said anything different.
On our drive from the Arequipa airport, our cab driver hit me with “mama, la dirección?” I didn’t think much of it because I was in a coma having not slept in 24 hours but once we got to getting out and about, I realized the only salutation I was hearing was “mama” or “papa”. Not a single senorita? amiga? mami? People greeting each other in the markets, people trying to get somebody's attention, guides on the trail, waiters taking our orders “y para ti mama?” (is this specific to Peru or am I decrepit now?)
And third, we arrived in Cusco to find hoards of “masaje girls” on every street corner. It was a level of massage-hawking I hadn't seen since Thailand and had never previously experienced in Latin America. A new, and surprising addition.
Our time spent in Arequipa was fine. It’s a city ringed by huge, and stunning volcanoes. We had an unhinged meal of sushi & chicken wings at an indoor restaurant where the whole floor was synthetic grass. We also got to enjoy Sunday adobo, a pork stew served in the liminal space between night and morning, perfect for either the drunk or the hungover making their way home after a long night out. As it turns out, it’s also the perfect breakfast following a 24-hour travel day. It was delicious and Quintin, in a true display of enthusiasm, sat down, picked up a spoon, and within two seconds splattered the soup all over his shirt.
We went to Arequipa because it’s the jumping off point for the Colca Canyon, the second deepest canyon in the word (Yarlung Tsangpo Grand Canyon being the deepest). I would say the overall experience mirrored the hike itself—straight down, then straight up, nothing in between. All thorns, all roses, no buds.
The roses? It was stunning. We saw condors (!) soaring over the canyon. The agave plants were the biggest I’ve seen by a mile. Vibrant ass flowers. The lady hawking instant coffee and snickers at the finish line yelling “felicitaciones mama!!!” as I emerged at 6:07AM having not had a single sip of coffee nor a single morsel of food but having hiked 15kms and 15,000 vertical feet UP (we love a high spirited, enterprising queen)
The thorns? The whole damn operation was a thorn. We were supposed to be picked up at 3 AM in front of our AirBnB. We were ready, visible, alert and oriented and on the street corner at 2:45 AM. Did anybody ever come for us? No. We called the tour company, who sent an Uber, which dumped us on another tour bus that wasn't our group. Said group finally dumped us with our group mid morning at the condor look out. We put our bags in the van, shake hands with our guide, and agree to meet back at the van at 11:30AM. Out of an abundance of caution we head back to the van at 11:10AM only to see the van driving away without us. Ten minutes later, we see them headed back up the canyon to get us, attitude like it was our fault. We then drive to the remote start of the hike, where our guide decided it was the ideal moment to tell the two older people in our group he didn’t think they could do the hike based simply and only on the fact that they were old (Spoiler: they could, and they did complete the hike). Start to finish, it was an unprofessional shit show.
Up next was Cusco (where we based ourselves to work for two weeks) and the Sacred Valley (where we went on the weekend between our two work weeks).
The thorn of Cusco was our freezing-ass-cold Airbnb with a drippy ass electric shower. I hate electric showers and I wasn’t properly warm or cozy for two weeks.
The bud of Cusco eating at MIL, a restaurant owned by the person who also owns the restaurant that was named the best restaurant in the world in 2023. Peruvian food is all the rage on the fine dining circuit and we spent more money on this one meal than we did on the whole 7 day Ausangate Trek. As you can tell by my complete lack of details, fine dining isn’t really my cup of tea, but Quintin loved it so I loved it and it’s always good to try something new.
The rose of Cusco is the hotel we stayed in after the Ausangate Trek. It was blissfully, wonderfully, not freezing-ass cold. We also did a food tour that slapped. In general, the food was awesome in Cusco.
As for the Sacred Valley, my highlight was Quintin's involvement during a textile dyeing experience. Despite his initial horror at the idea (the man does not love a manufactured tourist experience), the day was a success and Quintin’s spirits remained high. We got into the backseat of our guide’s dad’s Jeep where she informed us she couldn’t accompany us and did we mind just going with her dad (we did not). Mr. Dad then drove us to what can only be described as the middle of nowhere, where we were greeted by the sweetest family who opened the interaction by running out of the house, greeting Quintin with a kiss square on the face, enthusiastically exclaiming “bienvenido papa! Papa, bienvenido!”
Quintin proceeded to ask the grandma to make him an Avs colored friendship bracelet and then (to everybody’s shock) bartered to buy the cups straight off their table as were “exactly” what he was looking for in terms of “glassware for the dunes”. So yea, he was feeling it.
The thorn was the full-on riot we got ourselves….involved in….when trying to depart Machu Picchu. A mudslide caused train delays. As the trains started running again, all of the delayed trains started to get called, and depart, EXCEPT ours. Trains scheduled to leave hours after ours started departing. After hours of not getting any sort of answer or update on what the heck was going on with our train, the passengers on our train literally started a riot. There was shouting, there was shoving, there were ladies chasing security guards, and then finally the crowd decided they had had enough, it was time to get back to Cusco so they stormed the gates, rushed a train, and jumped on. I was honestly hesitant to follow suit and then I was like, "uhm, yeah, we do this or we get stuck here. Vamos."
We have now arrived to the main event: the Ausangate Trek, hands down the most challenging and the most stunning trek I have ever done or dreamed of doing.
Having learned my lesson regarding the horrors of trekking with inadequate gear in Patagonia, I showed up in Ausangate prepared. Experienced. Unstoppable.
Before I get into the rose, the bud and the thorn allow me to set the scene. When Q and I were planning this trip, we knew we wanted to take a week off and do some hiking. I wanted to challenge myself and see if I could do a (6) night, (7) day trek, the likes of which I had not attempted since my El Pomar days, where my place of employment required us to do a week long outward bound experience (the absurdity of which I would write a whole blog post on but will not). I read about the Ausangate Circuit, it fit within the parameters we had set, so I sent it to Q for review. He reviewed, agreed, and so we signed up! As I’m wont to do, I didn’t realllllllly read the fine print too closely and come to find out the hike didn’t go below 14,000 feet of elevation for the whole week, and you get up over 16,000 feet on 3 of the 6 days. I’m a moron.
The rose was the sheer and stupid beauty of it all. The absolute remoteness. The vastness of the landscapes. Beating Quintin up the first pass. The feeling of accomplishment. Learning that if you wear rubber gloves on your hands you won’t get so cold! Soaking in the hot springs after 6 days hiking in the mountains.
The bud was Rainbow Mountain, the part of the hike I was most looking forward to, which ultimately ended up being an unnoteworthy part of the hike (so yea, for context the hike was so stunning, Rainbow Mountain was not noteworthy).
The thorn was altitude sickness. Never in all my days. I thought the scope of altitude sickness was like….getting dizzy and having a headache. Dehydration, basically. Nobody told me altitude sickness can show up in the form of severe stomach pain, but lord did I learn.
On the third day of the hike I found myself at 16,500 feet, middle of the night, exposed in an open field, all but on my deathbed having ~dramatic~ and ~horrifying~ stomach complications. Of course, Quintin had a pharmacy worth of medicine, but of course, both of our waterbottles were empty so I could not take any medication until the morning, nor could I brush my teeth. It was, put simply, gruesome.
Once I had filled my bottle the next morning, I did not walk a single other step without being medicated to the nines.
On the final day of the hike, our guide gave us an option. We could double up on mileage and arrive at our final resting point, where there were hot spring or we could….we didn’t even hear the second option. All of us agreed, we would make it to the hot springs. We busted through 16 miles (Quintey’s longest day of walking ever!) to make it to the hot springs by nightfall. The blister on my foot was the size of a cow's hoof, but that doesn’t matter when you’re wasting away in a geothermal paradise, sipping a vanilla coke that tastes like what I imagine addiction feels like.
In conclusion, Peru was different than I thought it would be. Not better or worse, just different.
In 2022 I was traveling in El Salvador and I met a girl who was a full time work remote girlie and she had just wrapped a 3 month stint in Peru. When I asked her if she enjoyed her time she said “oh, Peru is like the womb of the earth” which caught me off guard. It was such a simple statement, and so specific. It elicited an immediate knowing and I think about her saying that all the time.
Having now been myself, she was right. Peru has to be one of the most sensational countries on earth and I pray I make it back later in life to do a full month of hard, but rewarding exploring!
