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My Peru
What to write, or what not to write? That is the question. More so, that is the challenge. To choose which culinary delights, cultural tidbits and sights truly encompass the heart of Peru. The breathtaking vistas, extreme ecological diversity and ancient Inca ruins were memorable, of course, but it was the strange cuisine, mystical treks and conniving tour agencies that made my trip to Peru unforgettable. This is My Peru.

Lima. Chaotic, noisy and overcrowded are just a few of the words that come to mind when describing Perus capital city. With more than 8 million people, half living well below the poverty line, the city is a population time bomb waiting to explode. However, if you can move past its harsh exterior, an adventure awaits an adventure of gastronomic proportions. You see, Limas real treasure is one for the palate.

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First and foremost, remember: an empanada a day keeps the doctor away. Carne, pollo or queso (meat, chicken or cheese) all wrapped up in the flaky goodness of a warm pastry. Or, for you adventurous culinary enthusiasts, how about cuy (guinea pig)? Yes, the same furry animal many of us had as children paws, claws, eyes and all step right up and get your very own deep fried guinea pig. And to wash it all down, Pisco sours. Raw eggs and Pisco brandy are whipped into this national cocktail to add that extra bit of raw protein necessary for a night out on the town.

After satisfying your appetite, head south. Nestled along the sprawling desert coast line are two of Perus lesser known national treasurers. Islas Ballestas and the sand boarding mecca of Huacachina. Islas Ballestas, known as the poor mans Galapagos Islands, is a smaller and cheaper version of Ecuadors acclaimed site. Flocks of condors and pelicans grace the skies, families of sea lions happily splash around in the island shallows, and thousands of penguins inquisitively waddle to and fro on the nearby shores. Why spend thousands when this amazing Galapagos prequel can be yours for 10 bucks? The oasis town of Huacachina was next. Swathed in palm trees and situated around a soothing blue lagoon, the village is much more then a desert mirage, it is the sand boarding capital of Peru. Souped-up dune buggies take riders on hair-raising off-road adventures over miles of surrounding dunes. Then, the real thrill: attempting to sand board these monstrous mounds. The inevitable spills and innumerable scrapes are well worth the 5 seconds of glory.

My next treasure was not a place, but instead a feat. Rising more than 5,800 meters and towering majestically over the town of Arequipa, climbing Misti Volcano would become my trips crown jewel.

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Warned about altitude sickness, I came equipped with the best line of defense: an ancient Inca remedy, Coca leaves. To release their medicinal powers, chew the leaves into a small ball and lodge the salivated mush into the back of the mouth. Within minutes of inhaling the remedial aroma, the pounding headaches and disoriented feelings subside. As for flavor, well, think lawn mulch. We reached base camp just before sunset. A blank canvas, the thick cloud cover now suspended below, was set ablaze by the exquisite brush strokes of the suns final rays. Blazing hues of reds and oranges replaced the grey, creating a fiery dance floor from our feet to the horizon.

After the sun retired for the evening and the perpetual darkness of space oozed down over the lands, millions of stars burst to life. Some remained stationary beacons while hundreds of others fell from the sky that night. Lacking noises from the world far below, the phrase silence is deafening could not have applied more than in those awe-inspiring moments. Situated on one of the few rocky ledges Misti offers, I didnt sleep a wink that night. Instead I lay in an awake mans coma. Deafened by the howling wind and paralyzed by the fear of being hurled from the precarious perch that we teetered on with each blustery gust. Lets just say I was more than happy to begin the next phase of the climb, even if it did begin at 1:30 a.m. With head lamps on, we continued the climb in the nights inky darkness. Each grueling step amplified by the crippling effects of altitude sickness, forced even our most physically fit climbers to turn back.

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Cresting onto her active crater, now fully exposed to mother natures fury, each step was no longer taken for distance, but as an anchor against Mistis final attempt to fling us from her menacing peak. Izquierda.Derecha. Izquierda. Derecha (Left. Right. Left. Right) was all I could think. But the end was in sight! Centered around Misti's colossal crater, the frosty peaks of Chachani Volcano loomed to the left and Picchu Picchu Volcano on the right. Reaching the summit was euphoric. Though probably a combination of exhaustion and altitudinal disarray, that feeling will stay with me forever. For those moments, I was on top of the world! I would have loved to remain there, on that climbers high, but the bitter cold would not allow it. Skiing down a 75 degree incline, knee deep in volcanic ash, proved the easiest way down. The 3-hour descent proved even more perilous than the 12-hour trip up.

And finally, my trip to Peru was not to be complete without visiting Machu Pichu, The Lost City of the Incas. Before embarking on the journey, however, the ancient capital city of Cusco is a mandatory stop. With dozens of advertised Inca Trail treks, I found out the hard way, that it doesnt always pay to be frugal. You pay for what you get. Kicking off with a downhill mountain bike ride, what was supposed to be exhilarating, soon turned exasperating. Supplied with a bike held together by nothing more than black electrical tape, I tempted fate around every corner, placing my life in the hands of that possessed bikes madness.

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As for meals on the trek what meals? Our first nights dinner left me with a vicious stomach parasite that for the next three days, I survived on crackers and water alone. And to top off the trip, my tour company failed to arrange a return transfer from Machu Pichu. As other tourists happily boarded the train back to Cusco, I pleaded for my pre-paid but never booked ticket. Thank goodness for the conductor with a soft spot for the blond gringa with broken Spanish. As they say though, its about the journey, not the destination. And what a journey it was. Trekking over the same sacred mountain paths the Incan people traveled hundreds of years prior made my arrival to the citys ancient gates well worth the four-day trek. With a history hazier than the clouds surrounding her walls, the truth behind Machu Pichus conception, reign and abrupt abandonment remains a mystery for locals and foreigners alike. Flanked by precipitous cliffs and placed in the protective bosom of the surrounding mountains, it was easy to see how this sky-high sepulcher could remain hidden for more than 400 years. After seeing thousands of photos and dozens of documentaries, still, nothing could have prepared me for something so surreal. As if stepping into a painting, time fell away. Transported back to the glory days of this seemingly immortal kingdom.

As the morning sun awoke, so did the sleepy town, blooming forth with the same fertility and purpose it had hundreds of years ago. Endless hues of green sprang to life, from the bright Kelly greens of the agricultural terraces to the faintest pea green mosses clinging to the ancient stonework. The cracks in the aged stone walls whispered the epic stories of a time long ago while the ghosts of Machu Pichus past seemed to embrace my every move, overwhelming my heart with the same pride they have for their mighty municipal. Whether you are a historian, adventurer or overall cultural enthusiast, Peru can be whatever you want it to be. This was my Peru. Your Peru awaits

For more of Reggie's crazy adventures, please visit: http://www.backpackerswanted.com

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