Alarm at Hotel Suecia 2
Miracles
Aguas Calientes
Machu Picchu
Back to Cusco
Strangers on a Train
Cusqueñas y cusqueñas
Marco, not Mark
Once I passed midnight, I was ready to go home; however, my new friends weren't hearing of it, and kept plying me with Cusqueña and rum and cokes. It is amazing how long one can subsist on that diet. Finally, at 4:00, after the last bar closed, the entire group that was still out--Yésica, Ana, Javier, and a couple other friends--walked me back to Suecia, to make sure I made it in okay.
Miracles
Aguas Calientes
Machu Picchu
Back to Cusco
Strangers on a Train
Cusqueñas y cusqueñas
Marco, not Mark
Once I passed midnight, I was ready to go home; however, my new friends weren't hearing of it, and kept plying me with Cusqueña and rum and cokes. It is amazing how long one can subsist on that diet. Finally, at 4:00, after the last bar closed, the entire group that was still out--Yésica, Ana, Javier, and a couple other friends--walked me back to Suecia, to make sure I made it in okay.
Somehow, I found the strength to kick my shoes off. I dropped a sleeping pill in my mouth and closed my eyes. In the short time before I fell asleep, I reviewed the past 22 hours: Roy, Aguas Calientes, Machu Picchu, Jamie, Peliculas, Rosa, Yésica, Ana, Javier, "Losing My Religion".
"Someday," I thought, "someday I've got to write this down. It'll make one hell of a story."
Then again, I thought as I dropped off, I'm not sure it's all believable. I'm not sure I believe it all myself.
*********
My shitty little rental phone started beeping at 9:00 in the morning on July 29, 2007, and I forced my eyes open. I squinted at Cody and Adam's beds. Empty. They were probably already in Lima.
It wasn't possible. I wouldn't make it.
It wasn't a hangover I had--whatever I had drank, I had danced out. It was a sinister cabal of exhaustion, dehydration and latent culture shock, mixed with Cusqueña, mineral water and the echo of shitty dance music.
But I had to pack. I had to shower. I had to eat. I had a bus to catch.
I forced myself out of bed and started looking for my shower stuff. Lima, here we fucking come.
**********
Taking a shower was an adventure at Hotel Suecia 2. You had to walk all the way to the top floor and around, and then undress inside the tiny shower room. The hot water consisted of an electric heater that boiled just a tiny bit of water and rest was cold, so if you wanted warm water you had to content yourself with just the lightest drip of water. Essentially, this consisted in scalding about a square inch of your body at a time while the rest of your skin froze. You also had to be careful not to touch above the tap, or you'd get a little shock.
My shower completed, I began to pick up our room. What a fucking mess. Two empty bottles of rum, one of whisky, and countless bottles of Cusqeña and mineral water. Three guys, eight nights--what the hell else could I expect? I got some trash bags from the front desk and dumped everything in.
Most of my clothes were clean--we had visited the laundromat across the street two days before. I shoved them into my hiking backpack and left the dirty stuff on top.
I walked just far enough away from the Plaza de Armas for the prices to go down, where I paid four dollars for rice, steak, onions, peppers, fries (lomo saltado) and a Coca-cola. It was heavy food for so early in the day, but I knew I had a long trip ahead of me.
When I got back to Suecia it was going on noon. I was glad I'd finished everything because between my exhaustion and the heavy food my body and mind briefly went out. I was afraid I was going to faint. I had to lay down.
Again, I began to fear I wouldn't make it out of the hotel and down to the bus station. But after 45 minutes or so, probably with the help of adrenaline, I got out of bed and walked up to the front desk to pay our bill. Eight nights cost us 650 soles--about $70 each.
"You have a great little place here," I told the grandmotherly lady who ran the place. "Hopefully I'll get back here someday."
"Oh, you will, young man," she said. It was not a question.
It was time. With my big hiking bag on my back, and my smaller one in my hand, I took one more look around what had been home for the last week.
"Thank you, Hotel Suecia 2," I murmured.
Out in the bright Cusqueño sunshine, I trudged down to the Plaza de Armas and got a cab to the Cusco headquarters of Líneas del Sur, the bus company that would take me to Lima. It was quite a ways away, in a part of the city I had not been in, a more modern, grimy part of the city.
Despite my ill physical situation, I had managed to arrive early. I sat down on an uncomfortable bench, where not far away a couple was making out vigorously, as apparently they would be separating for a few days. People always seemed to be making out vigorously in public in Latin America. I suppose it's because they all live with their parents so they can't go anywhere private.
I sighed and closed my eyes. I tried to remember the whole week, but I was too tired. Instead, I kept replaying in my head the doorway of our hotel room as I had left an hour ago.
"Thank you, Hotel Suecia 2," I had said. But as I sat there on that bench, bone-tired, the couple loving each other to my right, I realized I had been thanking much more than Hotel Suecia 2. I had been thanking Cuzco and everything that happened there for seven days. And in a very real way, I was thanking my Higher Power that had made it all possible.
*********
My shitty little rental phone started beeping at 9:00 in the morning on July 29, 2007, and I forced my eyes open. I squinted at Cody and Adam's beds. Empty. They were probably already in Lima.
It wasn't possible. I wouldn't make it.
It wasn't a hangover I had--whatever I had drank, I had danced out. It was a sinister cabal of exhaustion, dehydration and latent culture shock, mixed with Cusqueña, mineral water and the echo of shitty dance music.
But I had to pack. I had to shower. I had to eat. I had a bus to catch.
I forced myself out of bed and started looking for my shower stuff. Lima, here we fucking come.
**********
Taking a shower was an adventure at Hotel Suecia 2. You had to walk all the way to the top floor and around, and then undress inside the tiny shower room. The hot water consisted of an electric heater that boiled just a tiny bit of water and rest was cold, so if you wanted warm water you had to content yourself with just the lightest drip of water. Essentially, this consisted in scalding about a square inch of your body at a time while the rest of your skin froze. You also had to be careful not to touch above the tap, or you'd get a little shock.
My shower completed, I began to pick up our room. What a fucking mess. Two empty bottles of rum, one of whisky, and countless bottles of Cusqeña and mineral water. Three guys, eight nights--what the hell else could I expect? I got some trash bags from the front desk and dumped everything in.
Most of my clothes were clean--we had visited the laundromat across the street two days before. I shoved them into my hiking backpack and left the dirty stuff on top.
I walked just far enough away from the Plaza de Armas for the prices to go down, where I paid four dollars for rice, steak, onions, peppers, fries (lomo saltado) and a Coca-cola. It was heavy food for so early in the day, but I knew I had a long trip ahead of me.
When I got back to Suecia it was going on noon. I was glad I'd finished everything because between my exhaustion and the heavy food my body and mind briefly went out. I was afraid I was going to faint. I had to lay down.
Again, I began to fear I wouldn't make it out of the hotel and down to the bus station. But after 45 minutes or so, probably with the help of adrenaline, I got out of bed and walked up to the front desk to pay our bill. Eight nights cost us 650 soles--about $70 each.
"You have a great little place here," I told the grandmotherly lady who ran the place. "Hopefully I'll get back here someday."
"Oh, you will, young man," she said. It was not a question.
It was time. With my big hiking bag on my back, and my smaller one in my hand, I took one more look around what had been home for the last week.
"Thank you, Hotel Suecia 2," I murmured.
Out in the bright Cusqueño sunshine, I trudged down to the Plaza de Armas and got a cab to the Cusco headquarters of Líneas del Sur, the bus company that would take me to Lima. It was quite a ways away, in a part of the city I had not been in, a more modern, grimy part of the city.
Despite my ill physical situation, I had managed to arrive early. I sat down on an uncomfortable bench, where not far away a couple was making out vigorously, as apparently they would be separating for a few days. People always seemed to be making out vigorously in public in Latin America. I suppose it's because they all live with their parents so they can't go anywhere private.
I sighed and closed my eyes. I tried to remember the whole week, but I was too tired. Instead, I kept replaying in my head the doorway of our hotel room as I had left an hour ago.
"Thank you, Hotel Suecia 2," I had said. But as I sat there on that bench, bone-tired, the couple loving each other to my right, I realized I had been thanking much more than Hotel Suecia 2. I had been thanking Cuzco and everything that happened there for seven days. And in a very real way, I was thanking my Higher Power that had made it all possible.
No comments:
Post a Comment