Beginning a Zero Waste Journey

My transition to life back in the U.S., “real adult life” style, is in full swing, and its going pretty smoothly. By the time the summer hits, it will be my longest stint here since 2011. The culture shock isn’t that weird – I feel like I’ve gone back and forth enough now. But there is one thing. TRASH. It is haunting me.

It’s everywhere. What is the deal? I order bamboo toothbrushes off Amazon – they’re biodegradable, and I’m trying to reduce what I add to landfills – and they come in a box about 15 sizes too big, accompanied by plastic bubble wrap so that the tiny tiny toothbrush box doesn’t move around too much in there. Yeah yeah yeah, so maybe Amazon just sucks, but what gives? WHY IS PLASTIC INVADING OUR LIVES? (Not to mention that it is probably killing us).

Trash, plastic – they’re just normal now. Just throw it “away.” What is away? WHERE IS AWAY? I want every trash can to be tiny, right next to a massive picture of a landfill.

I’ll save the continued ranting about why landfills are a mess, literally and figuratively, for another post. But the problem that I see is this: I consider myself to be a pretty environmentally friendly person, right? Or I did. But then I spent some time in countries where trash pick up isn’t a “thing.” See, here in the good old U.S. of A, they just come and GET it for us and take it away. Out of sight, out of mind. But I spent some time in Ecuador, and Peru, and Costa Rica, in areas where no one came to get it – and I just kept looking at my trash. The trash of my students. Where was it going? No where. To the fields. To sit in a massive hole, to leech toxins into the earth, to be burned and released into the air we breath, to just SIT there, and day after day, STILL BE THERE. I saw the chips bags build up, the water bottles build up, the toothpaste tubes. Just chillin’. Not going anywhere.

And that’s the thing! Even if it goes to a landfill, it ISN’T GOING ANYWHERE. Plastic isn’t going to biodegrade. Even if we put it in the recycling bin, most plastic can just be downcycled, and a lot of it either ends up in the ocean or a landfill or is sent off to CHINA (?!?), and since when do we trust China to take care of our environmental problems?

I feel like we as a society as just inundated with all this negativity about how the world is going to shit. Maybe it is. Racism, inequality, climate change. It is hard not to feel despondent, right? So I’m trying to go Zero Waste. I need to do SOMETHING. I’ve already heard many friends and family kind of scoff at it. “Good luck with that!” But it’s actually not that hard! And the first time I left the grocery store with very minimal packaging, yet tons of food, man, it felt GOOD!

I bought two cases of Bell Jars from Target. They were, unfortunately, covered in plastic, but baby steps, right? I have since bought beans, granola, spices, baking powder, lentils, flour – all with jars that I brought to the store myself. I have written the tare of each jar on it with permanent marker, so when they check me out they just deduct that from the total weight, and voila. I am now the crazy lady with tons of jars in the check out line and reusable cloth produce bags filled with brussel sprouts. But I’ve done this in the matter of a few weeks and it is freakishly easy. You should have seen how excited I was when I found a bulk refill section in my local grocery store for shampoo and other toiletries!

I still have lots of room for improvement. I bought a biodegradable container of laundry detergent, only to discover that it is lined with plastic on the inside. I found mayo in a glass jar, but couldn’t find the hot sauce or ketchup I wanted in glass. Maybe I’ll try to make them at home myself with stuff I buy in bulk. We’ll see. I am going through an Asian food obsession phase (I think it’s a result of living in Latin America for 3 years, and thus being deprived of good Asian food), and have yet to find a zero waste udon noodle alternative (though I did graduate from the single use 3-types-of-plastic udon noodle packets to the 5-meals-in-one-package udon noodles). This week I’m going to try making tortillas from scratch and I might get one of those pasta noodle maker things so I can make noodles out of veggies. But, I have already substantially decreased my plastic and packaging consumption, and while I’m still recycling paper packaging and throwing away some stuff, you gotta start somewhere!

(Did you know plastics are made from oil? Like, petroleum?) 

My initiatives for the coming few weeks: making my own toothpaste and tortillas.

 

I Will No Longer

Life is too short to be anything but yourself, unapologetically. My 27th birthday is on Tuesday, and this is my birthday present to myself. This and a ferry ride to Bainbridge.

My writing promise(s) to myself:

1. I will no longer worry about writing and posting things that are, or should be perceived as, definitively “true.” What the fuck is “true,” anyway? I’ve spent the last year, or more, not writing or posting because I didn’t trust myself to put definitive statements up. I didn’t think I knew enough, had done enough research, I didn’t want to offend anyone, or make a mistake, or be incoherent. Well, LIFE is incoherent. And this was my own Writing Perfectionism as a means to Avoid Writing. Not to mention, this is a personal blog, not a presidential speech.

Bye Bye.

2. I will no longer worry about having a coherent theme to my blog, to my posts. There is too much going on for that. I think about zero waste, about traveling, about language, about how to make tortillas, about microbrews, about biking, about racism. I think about shoes and rain and education, and stuffed animals. What-the-fuck-ever.

Bye Bye.

3. I Will No Longer Worry About What Other People Think About My Writing And My Ideas. I Will No Longer Worry About What Other People Think About My Writing And My Ideas. Iwillnolongerworryaboutwhatotherpeoplethinkaboutmywritingandmyideas. Idealist? Hippie? Shmoopey? Stupid? Bah humbug.

Bye Bye.

 

Rainbows, Refrigerators & Regularity

Sometimes life gets in the way and I stop writing as much. In the middle of 2013 and at the beginning of my seven months of consistent travel, I was flying. The inspiration was seeping out of me. Clouds were fluffier, the sky was bigger, the future was promising and full of possibility. During that time, even though the present may have involved watching friends make poor choices, living out of two different closets, and full day bus rides with no bathroom breaks, I was pretty consistently “shitting rainbows.” I was an exuberant being, a living silver lining. I was holding the reigns, shooting for that horizon, laughing.

In mid October, for a number of reasons including the death of my grandfather, the reality of “reality” (i.e., job? stimulation? purpose?), as well as boughts of travel burnout, the rainbow shitting dried up for a time. I was living a dream – backpacking through South America – but I wasn’t as into it as I had been in the beginning. I got down on myself for not constantly enjoying every aspect of my trip. I felt a lack of inspiration and purpose.

Why did I fall into this rut? Well, I think that what it comes down to is two things: a balance between contrast and consistency, and allowing myself to be okay with a temporary respite from a strong purpose, or a powerful connection to the source.

Its great to travel for weeks and months at a time. Its also great to have your own apartment where you can leave your things OUT IN THE OPEN because you will be here again tomorrow, and next week, and next month; a place where you can make food in advance and leave it in the fridge because you will be here in a few days to eat it. Pretty novel, right?

(How many of you have thought to appreciate your shelves and your refrigerator and their sedentary natures?)

Contrast in our lives is necessary to facilitate gratitude and growth – we need to change things up here and there so that we don’t get bored, or stuck, 0r stagnant. But there is also something to be said for stability and structure. Through structure, we can facilitate discipline, and we can achieve goals that require dedication. This goes for getting good at anything, really – cooking, teaching, meditating, learning a language, even being happy or having friendships or lovers.

I felt unmotivated and I lacked inspiration. And so, I have remembered that it is not just about being in an amazing and/or new place – it is about CREATING something in that place, and sometimes that means concerted action within a structure, and not just concerted meandering.

What this has taught me is that I can and should use the contrasts that I live, see and experience – such as the difference between living out of a backpack and out of my own closet, between work weeks and boundless adventures, between cultures and languages, between Whole Foods and roadside indigenous markets – to inform my use of structure. After months of being “homeless”, for example, I appreciate having my own kitchen like you wouldn’t believe, and I am cooking more than ever. I am learning that after awhile, moving around so much becomes a norm, and that no matter what I am doing in life I need to be conscious of my perspective in order to maintain inspiration and levity, instead of relying on a “new and exciting” context to do that for me. I am reminded of how easy life is when we have secondary and university education to fill up our time, without needing to give a second thought to how the structure of our days gives us meaning.

The moral of the story is that it is always up to me to keep the inspiration flowing – context isn’t always enough, and sometimes a lot of contrast becomes homogenous in its own way. Its time to get down to business. Business might mean more moving around, or it might not. But it will definitely mean lots of homemade smoothies, some more adventure travel, doodling, saving the world one child at a time, house plants and the people that I love. Or something.

P.S. More is coming soon. ❤

 

 

 

The Visual Gourmet – Perú and Bolivia

Food. We can’t live without it. It is delicious, and it nourishes us. It reminds us that we are all human. We all need to eat. Eskimos in Alaska, campesinos in Bolivia, investment bankers in New York, sweatshop workers in Bangladesh. We eat, or we die.

Food reflects culture. Food is ritual. A specific person or group of people’s interpretation of the (thrice+) daily ritual of eating varies infinitely. What food and cooking utensils are available? How much time do we have? What is the occasion? Are we preparing the food for ourselves, or for others? What are we craving, what tastes good, what time of day is it, what is everyone else eating?

One of my interests, in this trip and in life, is how we nourish ourselves, and how we connect with the life force that food and nature provide for us. Aaand, I also just really love food. While traveling, not only do I have the opportunity to try tons of new types of food, but I get a taste of how that food interacts with the cultures of each place that I pass through, and any potential rituals that surround the various food in each places.

Bolivia

salteñas, mid bite

1. Salteñas: Salteñas are the ultimate mid morning Bolivian ritual. Between 9 and 12, you can find these delicious baked empanadas- filled with a sweet juice, an olive, spices, potatoes and meat – on every street corner. Our typical morning ritual: walk two blocks, eat a salteña…. walk two blocks, eat a salteña…. you get the idea. But don’t make the mistake of waiting until the afternoon to try and find them; when I did that, frantically searching for my beloved salteña at 5 in the afternoon, everyone looked at me like I was crazy, and I had to wait until the next morning to get my fix.

bolivian salteñas, a type of empanada

2. Tucamanas: Similar to salteñas, with the same type of ritual, but less widespread. Fried, and served with a wide variety of cremas ranging from spicy mayo to peanut sauce, these were right up there with salteñas on my list and my typical Bolivian morning walk.

tucamanas

“chocolate chode”

3. Unnamed Chocolate Cone – Well, we were a bit more crude in our naming of these chocolate cream filled puffs: dubbed “the chocolate chode,” they were on every corner in La Paz. The cream filling was a bit underwhelming. But we had to try them.

4. Api Morado – Bolivians seem to have a special affinity for morning food traditions. Api morado is a thick purple corn drink, served warm and sweetened with sugar and cinnamon. It is delicious and a little heavy. After taking two British friends to drink it while hungover, they couldn’t hang – but I miss it and am salivating thinking about it as we speak. Usually served with cheese empanadas.

api morado

quinoa beer in rural southern bolivia

5. Quinoa – Quinoa is now a pretty big deal in the States, and they have noted as much in Bolivia, where it used to be their main form of sustenance (for many it still is), but prices for export are now so high that it is much more expensive to buy in country. It is an incredibly healthy and versatile pseudograin, and is also high in vitamins, minerals and protein. I was able to try some quinoa beer, which was actually really good, in the arid southern altiplano of Bolivia on my tour through the Reserva Andina Eduardo Avaroa in South Bolivia. The conditions where they grow this stuff are pretty extreme – over 4000 meters, windy and cold, but beautiful.

 

 

 

Perú

1. Lomo Saltado – Any type of meat can comes “saltado” in Perú, and it is the first of one of many examples of Peruvian-Asian fusion food, which is all over the place in this country due to the large number of Asian immigrants. A saltado is stir-fried veggies, meat and potatoes over rice, usually with some type of soy-ish sauce. Lomo, in this case, is lamb. Yes, potatoes and rice together – an Andean/Latin American norm.

lomo saltado

2. Ceviche  – Oh, Peruvian ceviche, how I love you so. It is spicy, sweet and limey, with several types of raw fish – usually mussels, shrimp, calamari, and perhaps a few others. In Perú they also put sweet potatoes in with the sauce, which sounds odd, but really balances out the flavors. It is normal to get a big plate and share it among several people. The best part about the ceviche featured in the picture below is that this is from our five day trek through the mountains to Machu Pichu – while I am still unsure about how the chef managed to cook up such amazing food in such rural areas, I was not complaining about munching on this after 12 hours of hiking.

peruvian ceviche

3. Potatoes.Rice.Potatoes.Rice. – Working on a farm, as I have already written about, is quite the learning experience. Below, you see a picture of my typical afternoon and evening meal while working on a farm in the jungle north of Cusco. Especially after doing a minimum of five hours of manual labor in jungle heat on a hill, it would be an exaggeration to say this food was not quite satisfying. There is nothing like contrast to make you appreciate the rest of the food I ate after leaving the farm, such as….

farm food

4. Mexican Hare Krishna Veggie Burger – This burger was beyond words in terms of deliciousness. It is also the epitome of food globalization, in the “flesh.” I would be remiss if I did not mention Hare Krishna’s and their food in Peru (and other parts of Latin America). In my experience, they are behind well over half of the vegetarian restaurants in many major cities. This burger was what I dreamed about while working on the farm and eating only potatoes. A mixed lentil burger with spices, it was covered with guacamole and chimichuri and veggies.

mexican hare krishna veggie burger

5. Palta Rellena – Yes, that is an avocado that you see there. Palta Rellena translates to a stuffed avocado, and it is as good as it looks. This one in particular was stuffed with a veggie salad and mayo. Un-friggin’-believable.

palta rellena

queso helado

6. Queso Helado – This is a particular specialty of Arequipa, a city and province in southern Perú. It translates to cheese cream, though the name is a misnomer – either way, it is creamy and delicious and sprinkled with cinnamon. Yum.

 

 

Wo(a)ndering and Bringing El Campo to La Ciudad

“And so what is the final test of the efficacy of this wilderness experience we’ve just been through together? Because having been there, in the mountains, alone, in the midst of solitude, and this feeling, this mystical feeling if you will, of the ultimacy of joy and whatever there is. The question is, ‘why not stay out there in the wilderness the rest of your days and just live in the lap of satori or whatever you want to call it?’ and the answer, my answer to that, ‘because that’s not where the men are.’ And the final test for me of the legitimacy of the experience is, ‘how does your experience of the sacred in nature enable you to cope more effectively with the problems of mankind when you come back to the city?’ And now you see how this phases with the role of the wilderness. It’s a renewal exercise and as I visualize it, it leads to a process of alteration. You go to nature for your metaphysical fix – your reassurance that there’s something behind it all and it’s good. You come back to where men are, to where men are messing things up, because men tend to, and you come back with a new ability to relate to your fellow man and to help your fellow man relate to each other.” –Willi Unsoeld

Lately, within short periods of time – hours, days, weeks – my environmental context has changed so much that one day I will find myself sleeping and waking with the sun, making full utility of the daylight hours due to lack of electricity, and then only a few days later I watch the sun rise after a night out dancing in the city. The difference in pace between the city and the countryside, or el campo, is palbable – and appreciating what this means is important. I find that the longer I go in each place, the more I crave the other. It can be frustrating when you can’t get away from all the noise of the city (especially in Latin America, where the concept of noise pollution is few and far between); but then all the people, good food, art and music are rejuvenating. When I go too long without going out dancing, for example, I start to crave it, and usually the ambiance is more important than the music – from reggaeton and Europop in an ex-pat bar in Sucre, Bolivia to indigenous cumbia in Cusco, Peru to international electronic DJs in Montañita, Ecuador. But then my heart turns and I want wide open skies, rolling hills, I want green and I want the sound of birds chirping or the deafeningly beautiful silence of no humans for miles, of nature in its untouched glory – even if that means that food variety is out of the question (such as in most rural areas I visited in Peru and Bolivia), or that the water coming out of my faucet is even more precious than usual because it has to be hauled up the hill every day by mules (La Isla Del Sol, Lake Titicaca, Bolivia).

lake titicaca, bolivia

 

cordillera real, bolivia, view from isla del sol on lake titicaca

The distinction between nature and city life, though, is not just about what you can get wherever you are. I honestly believe that nature has a healing effect on human beings, and I’m not the only one. There is a reason why some of the most beautiful places on earth are also so popular with tourists – and a reason why looking out over Colca Canyon in Peru, or the Salar de Uyuni Salt Flats and the Laguna Colorada (red lake) in Bolivia made me feel alive with wonder and fulfillment. Einstein is quoted as saying that “He who knows it not and can no longer wonder, no longer feel amazement, is as good as dead, a snuffed-out candle.” Research actually shows that putting forth the effort to see things with a fresh sense of wonder and excitement helps rewire the brain to make you happier. In some places, this is easy. I can’t help but be in awe of some of the nature that I have seen as of late, considering the truly amazing reality that so many factors – chemistry, physics, geology, time – have come together to create the landscape that lays before me.

panorama shot of laguna colorada in bolivia

 

salar de uyuni in bolivia

I was never huge into science when I was a kid, but in practicing “wonder” and after learning about the human body in a recent first responder course, I think it is worth pointing out how many factors had to align, just so, in order for all of this to exist today – an earth with just the right amount of oxygen so that our lungs fill with air, with just the right amount of air pressure so that our organs and veins don’t explode, on top of the thousands of miles of natural beauty for us to inhabit (and unfortunately, destroy). I try not to get too overwhelmed by the reports that we have already passed the point of no return in the destruction of our beautiful planet. (Maybe if everyone took Einstein’s “wonder” philosophies to heart and fully understood and appreciated what they had – and may very well lose – we might get somewhere?).

Whenever I look at the ocean, I am reminded that the waves move just so because the moon pulls them, and because of the magnetic fields on the Earth. If that is not amazing, I don’t know what is. And so my contrasting contexts and experiences, between el campo and the city, hopefully remind me to bring the serenity and wonder of the natural world back to my interactions with humans in the civilized one. I try to remember this even when I am pissed off because some guy in Sua, Ecuador won’t stop trying to sell me a tour that I don’t want, or when I am seeking a change of pace from whatever environment I happen to be in – moving from the mountains to the beach, the city to a small town, camping to a shmoozy hotel or a friend’s house.

And if you look at any of these pictures, it is pretty clear that some beauty defies explanation, and that is pretty wonderful, too.

sulfur geysers in bolivia

sunset at isla del sol

Living a Tribute

It is easy to imagine traveling, living abroad, what have you, as an experience that is only romantic, only filled with beautiful sunsets and landscapes and fruit cocktails and exotic food and people. Maybe this is what happens if you are lucky and only go away for a week, but the reality is that leaving the comfort of home, particularly in the long term, has as many downs as it does ups, and that especially as more time passes, the potential for a complete cycle between ecstasy and misery becomes increasingly more real.

One of the things they told us during my orientation as I started my year of teaching in Ecuador in 2011 was that because of the cultural emphasis on family, many Ecuadorians were likely to pity us because, living far away from our families, surely they did not love us enough, or else they never would have let us leave. There are probably some Ecuadorians who thought this, and definitely many who did not, but either way, being apart from family is sometimes a harsh reality can make you question the decision to leave and travel and live abroad for months and years. Recently, my grandfather died while I was in southern Bolivia, and I was unable to travel home for the services. I spent hours and hours sitting in the restaurant of the hostel I was staying in, crying into my computer through a shitty Internet connection where I could barely hear the voices of my family, thousands of miles away, grieving for the man who helped make my family what it is.

The fact that I couldn’t be there is a major reality that I have had to deal with as a result of this lifestyle. But my family told me that I made the right choice. The last thing that my grandfather did before he died was attend an information session on travel to Batvia. He was 90 and was not able to travel anymore for health reasons, but still reveled in its importance despite that fact. He knew the value of travel just as much as he knew the importance of education; of all the things that he did in his life, he was most proud of putting all five of his children through college.

My sister read a letter that I wrote in honor of my grandfather at one of the ceremonies. An excerpt:

“A little bit of age and growth have allowed me to really see and appreciate the exceptional nature of the life that Grandpa created, the love he had for all of us and the lives he influenced in his wake. The more I travel, teach and learn – and in the process, understand more of what the infinitely varied human experience is – the more I truly feel and know that my family is one of the most blessedly fabulous groups of people on Earth – imperfections and all. Grandparents, parents and children, all bouncing all over the world, facilitating and enacting a love for education, adventure, inquiry and knowledge – unique human characteristics that make our existence on this planet truly worthy and special and that have the power to make us happy and free and to help us see beauty and growth everywhere. This is what John Couch Haltiwanger Senior helped create, from his work ethic to his post-retirement travels to his teasing and penchant for Yuengling and barbeque. Life is about the people you share it with and the things you create with them. Grandpa created a whole lot and the family that has come from that inspires me to keep creating – art, language, compassion, cross-cultural understanding and growth. The more I know, and the more people I meet, the more I keep returning to the simple fact that we are all blessed to have been a part of John Couch Haltiwanger’s existence, and that we can continue furthering his legacy as we create our own.”

I honestly believe that those who pass on out of this world and into whatever comes next live on in the lives of those they have touched. The more I travel and see the diversity, horrors, splendors and beauty that this world holds, the more blessed I feel and the more I realize that I carry the people that I love with me wherever I am, no matter how painful it is to be apart from them, especially in hard times. It is easy to ignore these realities and to push off this gratitude with sarcasm and jaded worldviews; but in my opinion, it is too easy to write off truths of existence such as these, and actually much more difficult to live with conviction and to accept the ups and the downs with gratitude, even in the face of hardship.

The much respected vagabonder and author Rolf Potts wrote, “Vagabonding is like a pilgrimage without a specific destination or goal – not a quest for answers so much as a celebration of the questions, an embrace of the ambiguous, and an openness to anything that comes your way.” This has to include the downs just as much as the ups. And I am still in South America.

Farming my way to Food Appreciation

Sachahuares crops: coffee and cacao; coconuts, bananas, pineapples, mangos, yuca, oranges, avocados, beans, other grains

Main forms of work we did on the farm:

•                 -general cooking and tending to the fire, washing dishes
•                 -weeding/harvesting hay in order to stuff mattresses and make/fix roofs
•                 -clearing and weeding fields with machetes in order to be able to plant and grow more corn, bananas and cacao
•                 -hauling sand up a hill every morning, to use in creating irrigation pits
•                 -chopping firewood and pruning trees
•                 -watering cacao plants (i.e. hauling buckets up a massive hill)

We were let off on the side of the highway in the eyebrow of the jungle, miles from the nearest “real” town, a steep trail ahead of us leading away from the road and into a thick of trees and vegetation. It took us almost twenty minutes to climb to the house with our heavy bags. We finally arrived to a bundle of buildings for cooking, sleeping or storage, some with straw thatched roofs. Set on a slope between all sorts of fruit trees, the surroundings were buzzing with the high pitched ringing of cicadas – even at 900 meters above sea level, this was jungle, and man was it ALIVE.

view of the volunteer cabanas from up the hill

We stayed ten days at Sachahuares, waking up at 5:30 every day, starting to wash dishes, prep the fire and cook breakfast by 6:15 so that we could start working in the fields with enough time to get three hours in before it got too hot. Our first job of the day was usually hauling bags of sand up the big hill we had climbed upon arrival – endorphins, the breakfast of champions, you could say. In the morning our work usually consisted of macheting something – areas on the side of a hill thick with vines and trees that needed to be cleared for more planting, or the branches of cacao trees that were pruned and to be dried out for firewood. By 11:30 or 12 we started preparing lunch, which consisted mostly of just rice or potatoes in a soup with onions or a few spices. After lunch it was so hot that all we could do was strip down to our underwear and lay in bed, nursing our potato food babies and trying not to get eaten alive by mosquitoes. We worked for two hours in the afternoon, maybe watering the cacao trees, weeding, or continuing to clear some of the fields. Then after a cold but refreshing shower of river water, we made dinner and were generally in bed by 9, the sound of the jungle around me penetrating my dreams every night as I slept.

the kitchen

I learned a lot while staying and volunteering at Sachahuares, and not just from all the reading I did during our daily siestas. For one thing, nearly two weeks with minimal protein, fruits and vegetables – being between seasons, only lemons and yuca were available to harvest and the nearest town didn’t have much to offer either – I have a newfound appreciation for food variety and the work is required to have all the variety that you can purchase at the grocery store. In any one meal, think about all the components that go into it: the hours of manual labor that someone may have to do in order to care for and harvest said plant or grain; whether or not it is locally grown and in season and if not, then how it was transported, kept from spoiling, etc. And at the same time, how many people were involved in those processes: local farmers and their families, (corporate) middlemen, buyers, processors, sellers, shippers, markets… the list is endless, really, and can be applied to any product, food and beyond.

the sink

I have intense respect for the family at Sachahuares, and anyone, really, who works to produce food or products that are grown from the land. In the words of respected psychologist and author Anodea Judith, “Socially and economically, intellectual work is better rewarded than physical labor.” This is a sad reality for much of the farming world, and is a reason why Sachahuares has turned to World Wide Opportunities on Organic Farms (WWOOF) for volunteers to help them run their farm, as they can no longer find people who will work full time for them (the office jobs pay more). At Sachahuares, they are aware of their choice to live off the land, to work with their bodies, and they do so with passion and grace – even taking the time to start a school to educate the local children on environmental sustainability.

some of my fellow volunteers with machetes on the slope we were clearing

a typical meal

I try to maintain these perspectives now when eating food, or doing anything, really, wherever I am. At the end of my time at Sachahuares, I was craving “city” food with a vengeance – and was quite aware of the irony of the fact that I couldn’t stop thinking about the Argentinian-style veggie burger that I got in Cusco, Peru at a vegetarian Hare Krishna restaurant cooked by a Mexican chef. Food globalization – global interconnectedness in general – is very real. It reminds me of the words of the famous Buddhist monk Thicht Nhat Hanh, when discussing interconnectedness and the lack of separation of all things. “This is not philosophy,” he says. “This is science.”

the bathroom – we dumped water with buckets into the toilet to flush

Travel and Tourism, Here and Now: Salkantay Trek to Machu Pichu

“The thing to remember when traveling is that the trail is the thing, not the end of the trail. Travel too fast and you miss all you are traveling for.” –Louis L’Amour

• Day 1: 15 kilometers, upto 4000 meters
• Day 2: 25 kilometers, upto 4600 meters
• Day 3: 15 kilometers, 1600 meters
• Day 4: 25 kilometers, 1000 meters
• Day 5: Arrive to Machu Pichu, at least 10-15 kilometers

lunch view on day 1

On the last day of our trek, we woke up at 3:30 in the morning so that we could start the climb of over a thousand steps that leads to the famous ruins of Machu Pichu. By 4:55, there were at least fifty tourists in line and you could feel the tension rising as 5:00 approached and they opened the gate. The sun wasn’t even up yet, but people were cramming together in line by the gate, despite the fact that everyone already had tickets (you have to buy them ahead of time) and the ruins are open until 5 pm. When the gate finally opened, we were slowly let through and started the steep climb up all those stairs, and the further we got to the top (the climb takes 40 minutes to an hour), the faster people climbed, ran, pushed others aside to get there first. It was all generally polite, and of course I shared in the excitement – these famous ruins were a large motivating factor for my trip in the first place – but I couldn’t stop laughing ironically to myself, thinking of the image of “The Tourist,” face pressed up against a chain link fence, head to toe in high tech outdoor gear, camera in hand, ready to “shoot.”

It turns out that, in my humble opinion, Machu Pichu is one of those hyper-touristy places that actually IS all that it’s cracked out to be. The day was beautiful – blue skies, warm air, lush green mountains and snow capped peaks in the distance. The ruins are magnificent and way bigger than I thought they would be and the beauty and power that this ancient Incan site holds really is palpable – like cutting through warm butter, except you can feel that warmth throughout your body and mind. A city perched on a hill in the middle of Andean slopes bordering the jungle; 360 degree views of green; temples with un-mortared perfectly situated stones and windows set so that the sun shines through them perfectly on the winter and summer solstices; terraces built to take advantage of the different altitudes for the cultivation of agriculture; a near-by peak that you can climb and see all of this from above; thousands of years of history and culture and magical energy, culminating in this epic space.

After our tour of the ruins with our group and guide, with whom we had hiked 80 kilometers in the preceding days to arrive there, we split up and explored the ruins, quickly figuring out that one could spend days there and still not see it all. I eventually noticed that, much like everyone else, I was taking so many pictures that I was failing to actually just sit and appreciate the place to begin with. So eventually, I found a good spot on the top of the ruins and just took it all in, camera in pocket, eyes and mind outward.

these are not connected with any sort of mortar and have withstood multiple earthquakes

The anticipation I felt and saw in others that morning, with the image of “The Tourist,” complete with Westernized anticipation and tourist productivity, the need to “make the most” of one’s visit to this famous site: this all reminded me of the need to SLOW, DOWN. I can look at my pictures later as much as I want. When will I actually have this all in front of my face again? Take it in and breathe in the beauty, the reverence, the gratitude, the warm sun on my face and the magic before my eyes.

So I did. And I’m also happy to report that the days on my trek leading up to our arrival to Machu Pichu were so epic that I kept forgetting that that was the “purpose” of the trip to begin with. In five days, we hiked nearly 100 kilometers, reaching heights of over 4600 meters, passing through eight micro climates, walking for 12 hours in a day, having endorphins for breakfast and staying in several rural communities. I learned that it is difficult to breathe when hiking up switchbacks at such a high altitude, but that it is actually not as hard as I thought it would be; that there are many “Inca Trails,” not just the one all the tourists like to do, and that that “Classic Inca Trail” is actually just dubbed as such due to tourism more than anything else. There is nothing like walking through the jungle with views of snow capped peaks, because even though you have duck tape around your ankles to keep your feet from getting wet, the air is so fresh and the sky is so blue you can’t focus on much else.

summit on day 2

Now that I have entered the post-Machu Pichu phase of my travels, I am again reminded to slow down, take in each moment as it comes, and continue each day living and traveling as I have intended – with gratitude for this epic experience, with an open mind to the people and situations that I am presented with. I am speaking and studying Spanish and using travel as a tool to appreciate the simple things in life. And hopefully being more relaxed and present minded than “The Tourist” while I’m at it.

Taking In Peru

My trip started in Lima – one of those cities that represents a million of the reasons why people are often afraid to travel in the “developing world.” Cars, buses, micros – small buses confusingly marked and used as public transportation – all swarming in and out of lines of traffic that would make anyone queasy or fear for their life, rightly so – the week we were there, three people died in bus accidents on the highway. The centro historico is a real trip, packed with people on a Saturday night, so full you can barely walk forward as you cling to your bag so that it doesn’t get cut open or pulled off of you. Each corner presents a new sight to be seen – singing children begging for money, men dressed as women dancing and doing flips to reggaeton, mimes and clowns on the bus cracking jokes for spare change, families gathering for matrimonios comunales, or group weddings in the central plaza.

in the central plaza in Lima

Overwhelming? Yes. But worthwile? Absolutely. Paolo Coehlo has been quoted as saying that “when you travel you experience, in a very practical way, the act of rebirth.” Sometimes that means that the bus aid forgets to tell you to get off at your stop, so you get lost on the side of a major highway and have to ask about ten different people for directions and then try to cross four lanes of insane traffic without getting hit. At the same time, remaining calm and pushing through those experiences, however overwhelming, is a huge part of why I love travel and why I am pushing myself now, in this context – because it is really all about just putting out good vibes and going with it. As the saying goes, “Luxury is a way of being ignorant – comfortably” (Leroi Jones). Being crammed onto a micro with a chauffer that speaks too quickly for you to understand – so you’re not really sure where you’re going – its all part of the experience. 

Despite Lima being crowded, polluted and dangerous, my time there reminded me that the world is full of good people – even if they’re complete strangers – who are always willing to help and accept you with open arms. We were lucky enough to stay with a family of Peruvian women in Lima through Couchsurfing, and they could not have been more warm and open. Letting two complete strangers into their home – feeding us, housing us, even giving us one of their own beds to sleep in – all with no questions asked, nothing expected in return, and yet honestly one of the most heartwarming and positive experiences I have ever had. I fully intend to pay it forward.

me, elizabeth and helen (our hostess)

From Lima, to an Eco Yoga farm run by Hare Krishnas, to Cusco, it has been less than two weeks since I left the States and I am still rife with excitement and intention to explore and experience each moment as it comes my way. Traveling is not just about meeting other foreigners, getting drunk on the beach or seeing all the touristy spots. To me, traveling smartly and openly is reflective of life balance – approaching situations with calm caution so as not to get taken advantage of, while simultaneously aligning yourself with an open intention to experience the world and learn new things that allow you to live what is the truly multidimensional and constantly changing reality of our world.

sign at the eco yoga farm – “help me when i least deserve it, because it will be when i need it most”

Before the development of tourism, travel was conceived to be like study, and its fruits were considered to be the adornment of the mind and the formation of the judgment. The traveler was a student of what he sought.   (Paul Fussell)

view of cusco from my hostel

Lighten Up, Ma

I’m feeling pretty lucky these days.

In June, I got to learn all about wilderness medicine and train with a phenomenal group of young adults in the beautiful landscapes of Northern California. In July, I ventured to Costa Rica to try and show a group of teenagers why international travel and language learning is not only one of the best classrooms in existence, but that it is also just straight FUN. Now I am hanging out in the Bay Area with some of the people I love most in the world before heading out to Peru to trek to Machu Pichu, among other things.

I learned some things while in the trenches, literally and figuratively speaking, with my co-leader and a group of shouting, singing American adolescents in rural Costa Rica. One of the things I love about working in education is that even when you fill the role of “leader,” “teacher,” – whatever title you want to throw in there – you are always learning, adapting and integrating. Never underestimate the educational power of travel, speaking in a foreign language, a determined group of fourteen year olds, or really anything in between.

Despite how it may seem given my nomadic lifestyle and rejection of the typical 9-to-5, I am actually a pretty motivated person. When there is something to be accomplished, I will do what it takes to get it done. When I have a group of teenagers who come from privileged backgrounds who are seeing a developing country for the first time, I want their minds to be blown, goddamnit. I want them to realize the power of circumstance and faith, to align with an intense sense of gratitude for their comfortable existence, to feel the power of natural beauty and different languages and cultures, to want to give back and to strike out and explore the world. But on this trip, I was reminded that these are values that I have, and that what others believe and how they come about that needs to be an organic process, not one forced upon them by an overbearing Other.

And that sometimes, all that you really need to do as an educator is create a safe, respectful and compassionate space, and then let the mud and the laughter do the rest.