I just had breakfast with my Grandmother, brother, dad, uncle Skip, aunt Ricky and my cousin Jake. Since we’re at sea the entire day today, it was slow and relaxed. So far this vacation has been very busy—I’d been hoping to have more time to just sit on deck, read and write, but we’ve been visiting a different city, and for that matter a different country, almost every day. Yesterday was Stockholm, Sweden, and I think tomorrow we’ll be in Norway, but it may be Denmark, I’m not quite sure and haven’t had the motivation to familiarize myself with the details of this trip. I’m sitting now writing in a chair on the lower deck where there’s a walkway around the entire perimeter of the ship. It’s pleasantly quiet, and I can hear the water running alongside of the ship not too far below, and the distant rumble of the engines from the rear of the ship.

It’s hard to believe that the last time I sat down to write was in Lima over a month ago, but I really haven’t had a chance to sit down since then. My second session in Peru passed by in a whirlwind—it was certainly an adventure.

Our first unplanned experience came as we were leaving Cusco to start our hike through the mountains. I was casually sitting in the bus downloading music to my MP3 player when Snow, Broadreach’s assistant director (ie my boss) who by pure coincidence was joining us for the hike, pointed out to me that the road was filled with boulders, which the bus was forced to drive precariously onto the shoulder to avoid. I tried to explain to her that in the Andes, the roads were not maintained nearly as well as back home, and things like that are normal. Even as more and more boulders began to appear, and it became evident that there was no way they all got there on their own, I still didn’t become worried. It was not until half an hour later when, as we were about to descend down into the sacred valley, that we came across the barricade. The full story didn’t come to us all at once, but piece by piece in the hours, days, and weeks that followed, and went something like this: The Peruvian teachers were upset about a number of things and had declared a national strike. Across the entire country, angry teachers had taken the roads at various strategic places, not letting anyone pass. At first I thought maybe we could figure something out, somehow get them to let us pass, but quickly changed my mind when I saw that they had literally put an enormous pile of boulders across the entire width of the road and weren’t planning on going anywhere. When I put this together with the fact that this was the only road to get to Machu Picchu, I knew we were going to have problems.

I won’t go into all the details, but the strike ended up causing us headaches throughout the duration of the trip. We miraculously were able to stick mostly to what we had planned, but had lots of close calls. We ended up making it through the road later that afternoon, after we had already planned an alternative hike closer to Cuzco, and beginning the hike late, which was our second adventure. While the same hike we had done with the first group 3 weeks earlier, the second time around was completely different. First, several students had reactions to the high altitude—in the end everyone made it, but not before lots of difficulties. Then, as if everyone wasn’t already stressed enough, it began to rain on us right during the most difficult part of the hike, when the pass was already in sight. Predictably, as we ascended higher up, the rain changed gradually from rain to a sort of slushy mix, to actual snow for the last half hour. Fortunately everyone had brought the proper gear, and I couldn’t tell whether the kids appreciated the excitement and adventure or not. In any case, it was strikingly beautiful, and everything had a brilliant shiny glimmer, almost like velvet, at the top of the pass, not too different from the spring snowstorm I experienced a few months ago in Steamboat, Colorado (although it seems like an eternity now). From there, it was an easy downhill descent for the rest of the way, and everyone completed the walk without much problem.

The strike, which we were told would be over by the time we finished the hike, caught back up with us when our bus was late picking us up on the other end of the hike. That afternoon we were again delayed getting to our hotel in Ollantaytambo, due to more protests and road blockades. Trying to get through the city’s main plaza, we turned back to wait after seeing police in riot gear. After some apprehensive and dramatic waiting, we eventually got through when the strikers went home for the night, allowing for the roads to be passable.

We had a near disaster when we found out that the train service to Macchu Pichu had been suspended for that day due to the strikes and they were deciding whether it would also be suspended the following day (when we were scheduled to go), but thankfully this did not happen and we got to visit Macchu Pichu as planned. Even though it was extraordinarily crowded, I was content that we made it at all.

After 4 more days studying Spanish in the sacred valley, it was time to go back to work with the Peace Corps with our friends in Huacanhausi. I wish I had had more time to write my reflections while I was there—I remember thinking of so many things I wanted to write about, but now, sitting in the fog in the middle of the Baltic Sea, both my recollection and my inspiration to write seem to have faded, but I’ll try.

One thing that really struck me was the amount of respect I had amongst the community in my capacity as leader of the group. People would call me "Profe", short for "Professor"—I didn’t take the trouble to explain to them that even though I was in charge of this group of students, I wasn’t exactly their professor. Honestly, I had mixed feelings about how we were treated in this regard. Of course I appreciated the respect, but at the same time I was a bit uncomfortable about it because I always had the sense that this respect came merely from the fact that we were foreigners, not because of anything we did to deserve it.

One day we went on a hike, ascending up from the school into the surrounding mountains. We passed by several houses along the way, which became increasingly isolated as we got further and further from the center of town. We encountered a few school kids we knew along the way, whom we greeted enthusiastically. After a few hours of hiking we came to a small house and saw a women cleaning some guinea pigs in her stream, which she had just killed and skinned. Erin, our Peace Corps coordinator, pointed out how surprising it was that she had that many guinea pigs all at once, since they represent such a huge portion of a family’s income. Usually they raise them to sell live in the market for cash, which they then use to buy more essential items, like cheaper, less nutritious food. Guinea pig meat, while extraordinarily high in protein and very nutritious, is a luxury poor Peruvian families don’t usually get to enjoy. Erin commended this mother on saving these guinea pigs for her own family.

We chatted with the mother and her adorable children for about twenty minutes and were about to leave when we found out the real reason she had killed so many guinea pigs—they were not for her family, they were for us! She had seen us coming from far below, and had not thought twice about slaughtering every guinea pig she had in order to invite us to lunch. Of course she also hadn’t thought twice about asking us first, and when we saw that the animals had already been killed, skinned, and were ready to cook by that time, we really had no other choice but to accept the offer!

While I was a bit worried about a number of things (least of which being the sanitation of a meal prepared by someone who probably wasn’t familiar with our health issues), the experience ended up being phenomenal. I had only eaten guinea pig once before, in Ecuador last summer, and really was not crazy about the idea of having it again. Nonetheless, this time it was fresh and succulent—while I wouldn’t go so far as to say it was the best thing I ever tasted, it was certainly quite a bit better than I remembered. I know this will sound cliché, but it really did taste a bit like chicken.

More than the taste of the meal itself, the gesture itself is what I will remember most from the experience. This was a family that probably lived on a few dollars per day, at most. Nonetheless, the mother did not hesitate to offer us the equivalent of probably a week or more of income. She said that she had never had anyone come visit her in her house, much less a group of such important people like us, she was simply honored that we had come at all (this explanation brought the same mixture of being honored and uncomfortable that I tried to explain earlier). As we left after eating, I did pay her for the food we had eaten—about $2 per person, which Erin told us would be a very generous amount of money for them. I’ll never forget how she accepted the money: slowly, humbly; with hesitation but also obvious appreciation.

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The weather for the past few days has been very good, but we now appear to be pushing through a sea of endless fog, and I can’t see more than a few hundred yards from the boat. I’d intended to write a reflection of my parallel experiences in Peru contrasting against the vastly different environment here on the cruise. There are so many other experiences I’d planned to write about, but this setting is just not conducive. I really have had hardly any time to just sit down and relax. I think I’ll just give a quick summary of the last week or so and quit there.
After flying back from Lima on my 24th birthday, I had less than 48 hours in the U.S. before getting back in the air and flying to Europe. I tried to spend at least a little time with my mom, and procrastinated as long as possible before re-packing my bags for a completely different type of trip. I flew with my Grandmother, Eric, and Uncle Tom from New York to London, then on to Copenhagen, Denmark. After a night there, we got on the boat, where our first destination was Tallin, Estonia, where we spent a few hours walking around the "walled city". Like Cusco, Tallin is an ancient, historic (in this case medieval) city which is now overrun with tourists. From there was spent 2 days in St. Petersburg, Russia, where the whole Snow family (minus Uncle Skip and cousin Zoe, who weren’t able to get Russian visas in time) did a blitz-tour of historical sights with our guide Tatiana. I have to admit my enthusiasm was a bit lacking in hearing her explain every excruciatingly mundane detail about the daily life of the Czars and their families, but we did see some pretty impressive places, mainly palaces and churches. The next day was Helsinky, Finland, where I borrowed my Aunt Ricky’s laptop and went off on my own in search of wireless internet to research and plan my trip to Italy next week (details below). Yesterday we were in Stockholm, Sweden, where we went to see a museum with a big ship which sank a few hundred years ago and was raised fully intact back in the 1950s—it was quite impressive; you’ll excuse me for not taking the time to learn more of the details. Today, as I already said, we’re at sea, en route to either Norway or Denmark tomorrow. When I explained to my uncle Tom that at times I get pretty sick of traveling, he couldn’t comprehend it. I certainly felt a bit guilty about not being able to appreciate some of the places we visited more, but after trying to process the last few months and realizing the quantity of experiences I’ve had, I feel a little better.

Since I’m already in Europe, I’m planning to take the opportunity to travel a bit on my own after the cruise, since before this trip the only time I’ve spent in Europe was the 3 days I was in London last December at the end of my round the world tour. Originally my idea was to try to see as much as I could, but the thought of going through all the hassle of constantly moving around—researching transportation and other logistics, finding affordable places to stay, orienting myself to a whole new environment every day—just doesn’t appeal to me right now, so I’ve decided to spend two weeks after the cruise studying Italian in Florence. I spent a few hours in Helsinki researching online, and found lots of good options. When it’s all said and done, it probably won’t be more expensive than if I had spent the entire time traveling, and this way I’ll be able to really get to know Florence, which I’m told is one of the most beautiful cities in the world. I’ll have the comfort of a routine, which I really haven’t had for the last few months. I’m planning to live with a family, which from my home stay experiences in Argentina and Mexico should hopefully be awesome. And of course I’ll get to learn Italian! I downloaded some Italian lessons onto my MP3 player from my public library account back in Colorado, and have been really enjoying them. I think I’ll enjoy the opportunity to learn a new language, and from my knowledge of Spanish I’m hoping 2 weeks will be enough to reach a fairly proficient level if I work hard.

Anyway, this laptop battery is about to die. It’s really shameful how much more I’d wanted to write about but have left out, hopefully this short smattering of experiences and highlights will at least give a small taste of what the last month has been like.