Research
Vacation

The drive from the airport was eye-opening: rundown buildings, roads in rough condition, dogs and people everywhere in the streets. Then we hit the ocean freeway and Peru changed into something else entirely. A ton of oceanside development built purely for recreation — right in front of signs warning not to swim because of the dangerous currents.

Eventually we reached the surfing beach, surfers bobbing in tidy lines waiting their turn on the break. Then Miraflores: the high-rises, the manicured cliffs, the upper class of Lima all at once.

We had our first meal of actual Peruvian food in Peru — and we loved it. The research has officially begun.

Things to know before you go: 1) It is good to have Soles (cash) but all the retailers had the same credit card device with the tap feature. We just used cash to pay the driver my mother arranged for us in Lima and to tip the tour guides. Tipping at restaurants is not really expected but appreciated. 2) The best places to shop were in Cusco in the courtyard along Loreto behind the Templo de la Compania de Jesus, right outside Ollantaytambo in the Mercado Turistico, and in Lima at the Miraflores Indian Market. Consider holding off buying alpaca products until you make it to the alpaca farm cooperatives outside Cusco. 3) We worried about our safety and pick pockets but never had a problem. Just be vigilent, don't wear expensive jewelry, and keep your phones secured with a strap or in a pocket with a zipper.

 

After seeing my mother, our interpreter, off to her cousins the night before, we waited with slight trepidation in front of a temporarily closed Howard Johnson — the closest landmark to our Airbnb — for PeruHop to collect us. My family would rely on my rusty Spanish going forward. PeruHop showed up late, but our friendly guide Luis found us and basically walked us right back to the Airbnb, where the bus was waiting. So it goes.

On the way to Paracas we stopped at Hacienda San José, and it hit closer to home than I expected. It made me think of my mom's stories of her grandfather's hacienda, on the Palacios' side — expropriated and redistributed in 1969 under the Agrarian Reform. This story of my mother's was the inspiration of my first published short story. A flurry of texts between my mom and my aunt suggests it may have been Hacienda Talambo although it is difficult to track.

In Paracas we wandered the beach town hunting for the Saint Martin sail monument, gave up, and settled in to our hotel before lunch and a sunset hike in the National Reserve where we took some fun photos. This was our "training hike" for the rest of the trip. Judy lagged behind but made it up the rocky cliffs and down with her bad hip. The next morning: a boat out to the Ballestas Islands — the "poor man's Galápagos" — sea life and seals everywhere, and finally, the penguins. They apparently enjoy the cold water of the Humboldt Current. The guano (seabird poop) from the islands used to be sold as fertilizer. Who knew that my dad had liquid gold on him when a bird pooped on him at Hart plaza in Detroit when my sister was up for Miss Latina. She placed second runner up.

Huacachina is a backpacker haven — a real lagoon ringed by palms in the middle of towering sand dunes. The government now replenishes the lagoon but still cool. We were slightly concerned when we realized Judy had booked us into an adults-only hotel, but they let us stay even with Bryelle only being 12. Crisis averted.

Then: the dune buggy. We had an absolute blast tearing over the dunes and sandboarding down them. An Australian girl lost her phone going down the second dune, and the whole group cheered when she and her boyfriend climbed back up and found it.

Dinner was chicken milanesa on the waiter's suggestion. It was great. Trust the waiter. I wish we did this more. I grew up eating Peruvian food at parties so I have my favorites and dislikes. I tried to vary the food we ordered as all the restaurants serve... you got it, Peruvian food. But I wish we would have used more of the servers suggestions.

I'll be honest: the Nazca Lines were a little less impressive than expected. Not nearly as large or dramatic as the photos make you think. Because the desert is so dry, the lines have lasted for millennia — which is genuinely remarkable — but in person it's only slightly more impressive than dragging your heel through the dirt. Not by much.

I was so glad we didn't take the extra day for the airplane flyover. Sometimes the research says: keep moving. Plus we heard the planes are not regulated so be careful with that if you do choose to fly over.

Arequipa was lovely — and different from what I'd envisioned from my mother's stories of her aunt's place here and her story of being squeezed by their pet chimpanzee named Martín. We found a great restaurant while walking around, Airy Quipa, where we tried the local dishes: rocoto relleno and chupe. Yum.

I kept scanning for signs of the family's mark on the city, hunting for Lazos — only to learn that my aunt, Fortunata Lazo, actually married a Díaz. So any familial impact in Arequipa would carry the Díaz name. Genealogy: 1, me: 0.

The Monastery of Santa Catalina was huge and fascinating, with its history of wealthy families sending a daughter into the order to pray for the family. At the Museo Santuarios Andinos we learned about the Juanita mummy — and here my research got interesting. The museum tour guide claimed most Acllas were sacrificed, which contradicts both my reading and what our Cusco guide would later tell me. She also said boys lived in Acllahuasi too which was funny as Acllahuasi literally translates as "House of the Chosen Women". I questioned everything she said after that including that Juanita got bashed on her head to kill her. Then why put her in a drug induced stupor to begin with? Maybe she decided she didn't want to be the the sacrifice de jour after all. Or maybe a stone dropped on her head during an earthquake after the fact. Conflicting sources: every historical novelist's favorite problem.

Trip ledger: caught a cold in Arequipa. Felt fine, minus the runny nose. This will matter later.

Puno is where the altitude found me and, for a few moments, I had the feeling Kai, from the Sci-Fi YA manuscript I plotted out, might feel when he steps onto Mars for the first time. Compounded with the cold I'd picked up in Arequipa, I was miserable. Bryce was sick too — we ended up getting him a hotel room for the day so he could rest.

I made it through the walk in Puno for lunch (but barely touched my Andean quinua soup) and the boat trip out to the reed islands of Lake Titicaca, and I'm glad I did: the presentation on how the islands are built — layer upon layer of living totora reed — was genuinely fascinating. By the second island stop I stayed on the boat and rested. Instead of walking Puno and finding dinner, I camped out in the lobby of Bryce's hotel with Bryelle.

I napped while freezing, then eventually migrated to the breakfast room to watch the World Cup with other shivering travelers. The breakfast room was slightly warmer. Slightly. I ate a slice of pizza which was actually quite tasty and we hopped on to our overnight bus to Cusco. Judy gave me some sort of pill and I slept.

Cusco at last! PeruHop dropped us off at our hotel at 6am and luckily we were able to check in. We slept for a couple hours before Judy, Brayden, and I ate breakfast in our spralling and ancient hotel, Casa De La Escondida. I felt better and actually ate. I found a free walking tour and I was so excited to learn the first stop was Inca Garcilaso de la Vega's house. What! Free tour to his house! I hurried us out, leaving Bryce and Bryelle to rest at the hotel. We started walking down to the city center. And down. Like it was at such a steep incline, we could have slid down (albeit painfully bumpy). Judy needed breaks and we missed the free walking tour and decided to do the hop on hop off bus to save Judy's hip. After some back and forth, we determined we needed to buy the Boleto Turistico to get into the Casa de Inca Garcialaso. Since we were visiting Ollantaytambo the next day, we opted for the full ticket. I was happy to find that Brayden qualified for a student ticket. For those traveling with kids, make sure to have their passport with you for proof. Also you can only buy the Boleto Turistico at one office in city center so make sure to stop by there.

Side note: We missed the Festival of the Sun which was the week prior of our trip. This was probably a good thing as I am sure Machu Picchu and Cusco would had been crazy. They still had the floats on display and a parade treated us on our first day. I am not sure what the occasion was but a good parade always lifts the spirit.

We finally made it into Casa de Inca Garcialaso. I'd hoped for more about the Inca Garcilaso himself; it turned out to be more of a general Peruvian museum. Still cool. I took a picture with a display of my ancestor, which is not a sentence most people get to write on vacation. Now I have the scene for the time he lived there with his father and stepmother who was not much older than him.

Judy, Brayden, and I took the city tour while Bryce and Bryelle continued to rest at the hotel. We visited Qorikancha — the Temple of the Sun — inside the Santo Domingo Convent, then headed out to Sacsayhuamán, Q'enqo, Puka Pukara, and Tambomachay.

I was like a weed growing out of an old Inca stone wall, absorbing every nutrient I could. The ruins were a perfect preview of what waits at Machu Picchu. I'd been hunting for a stone puma necklace and couldn't find one — but I did find a beautiful amaru necklace from a vendor, who promised she'd have a puma for me tomorrow. I told her I'd be back in two days but unfortunately she had packed up by the time we got back into Cusco.

The majority of people in Peru are short. I am usually a head taller and you can imagine how my boys look to Peruvians. Tourists, however, come in all sizes and while walking around Cusco, we passed a guy walking who towered over me. He also had ridiculously short red shorts on. Its funny how just walking by someone can make such an impression that a story immediately pops in your head. I had a fun time plotting the story using Hacienda San Jose and Cusco as inspiration. I wonder if I ever inspire people that I walk by. I am most likey just the annoying American looking for a puma necklace.

We grabbed dinner and carryout before heading back to our hotel. The walk up starts steep and then gets steeper until it simply gives up and becomes stairs. It was definitely not fun to climb — but the view earned it. Judy eventually made it. We need to keep a better look out for taxis. They are not as visually apparent as they are in the U.S. and Uber is not a thing here.

Early wake-up, and after Bryce had a rough night, precious little sleep for any of the boys. The girls had their own room but were fighting off ants. It was a long ride to the mountains. Judy had wisely decided in advance to take the horse up. Bryce made it a quarter of the way before turning back. Bryelle struggled and took a horse halfway. Brayden had no problem at all and reached the top first, the show-off.

I struggled. I eventually asked for a horse — at which point our guide pointed to the horse drop-off already in sight, which is peak comedy. Our guide Vicky was a godsend and hauled me the rest of the way up the mountain and took care of Bryelle who refused to climb the steps to the top of the Rainbow mountains.

Do yourself a favor: just take the horse. The Indigenous people who run these horses up the mountain are astonishing — men and women in traditional dress, running struggling tourists uphill at 5,000 meters like it's nothing.

Rainbow Mountain is pretty. Whether it was worth the hike is between me and Pachamama. Like I said — get the horse. We were too beat for the optional Red Valley hike, so we walked back down the way we came.

Bryce turned 18 today — a birthday in the Sacred Valley. We started at a zoo of Andean animals, and luck was with us: condors. I'd been a little sad we skipped the Colca Valley excursion, since condors play a role in my book, but the universe delivered anyway.

Pisac came next — fascinating, especially the still-working fountain, a marvel of engineering, that has flowed for centuries from a source in the mountains. Then a stop in a town famous for cuy, where Brayden and Bryelle shared eating one. I could not. I couldn't do that to Harry in my manuscript. They said it wasn't bad. It smelled up the entire van.

And then, finally, the wonder of Ollantaytambo. In one of the walls there was an inset that looked exactly like a holy-water font. I blessed my forehead with the water it held, imagined every bacterium that surely lived in it, and survived. The shopping was good and some kind of Inca festival was in full swing on the plaza. As we visited the Inca sites, Judy stayed back and took care of Bryce, trying to get him healthy to enjoy Machu Picchu. Plus it was Bryce's birthday and he got so have a date with his mother.

After lunch, the train to Aguas Calientes — an experience in itself. Boarding was basically a party. We rolled for twenty minutes, then stopped for over an hour for the back up further up the track to clear. The train stewards put on a little performance to entertain us while we waited. We arrived late, faced yet another long uphill walk to the hotel, and collapsed. Aguas Calientes is a nice, clean little town with a river running straight through the middle. Cusco felt ancient and vast; Aguas Calientes feels small and new.

We finally made it. The exclamation mark of our trip. It was magical.

In honor of my book, I clipped a few flowers as we passed them, to use as an offering to Pachamama. In the morning we walked Circuit 1 on our own. We technically had Machu Picchu Mountain tickets, but after Rainbow Mountain nobody — nobody — wanted to climb that far up. So we took our photos and ate lunch while waiting for our noon Circuit 2 entry with our guide, who had been with us since Cusco, called himself Primo, and called us his familia.

Walking through Machu Picchu itself was something else. The book ideas came faster than I could write them down. I left an offering at an altar-looking slab right in front of the hidden tomb where they believe the Pachacuti mummy may be buried, and another at the Temple of the Condor.

I never got the chance to walk through the Acllahuasi, but I took plenty of photos from afar, and Primo assured me the Temple of the Condor was far more exciting anyway. Looking at those stone wings rising out of the mountain itself, I believed him.

Ten days, one cord, ten knots. The research vacation is complete — now I owe Garcilaso a book.