Night of the living selfie

Final night in Cusco. I have to tell you, the thought of leaving this place has me feeling exactly like the 10th Doctor. 

I got on a horse for the first time in my life yesterday.

I'm just going to confess something to you right here- horses freak me out. Always have. I just don't trust them. I think it's the face. 

Apparently, watching me try and get on this horse was hilarious. You're welcome, team, I'm actually just here for the entertainment value.

I kind of belly flopped onto its back. Apparently this is not correct horse mounting procedure. Who would know? 

My horse was so pretty though. It was actually exactly the same colour as the toy Barbie horse I had as a child; a light golden colour with a black mane and tail.

I never did find out its name. I alternated between calling it Babe, Diva, and Honey Boo Boo.

Maybe my horse was pissed off at being called Honey Boo Boo. Maybe it was just a Diva with a whole lot of Sass. But it was quickly apparent that this horse had ZERO chill.

I learnt to trot and canter- very fast. Out of necessity. Honey Boo Boo wasn't slowing down for anybody. 

It was fun. Honey Boo Boo was a strong independent horse who heeded no instructions and had a particular fondness for taking the most precarious looking rock paths, I respect that.

One of the other horses was taking none of her shit, though. 

There must have been some kind of horsey disagreement. I don't know the specifics. All I know is that they decided to try and bite one another, and both horses bucked like crazy. 

Hey- handled it!  

So far I've managed to stay on a speeding, skidding mountain bike and a bucking horse. Guess that speaks volumes for my ability to... Stay on... Things. Yeah. 

I also took up parkour. By accident.

By this I mean we were climbing a hill to give the horses a break and check out the view from the top. Coming down said hill, I slipped spectacularly and turned it into a nice little roll. It was pretty smooth.

One girl saw. She's actually still laughing about it. 

After our last supper together- god I'm going to miss eating alpaca- we decided to hit the town.

We met some friends at our usual bar, and made a couple of new friends. We somehow acquired a large group of Americans. And then one of the bartenders at our favourite bar gave us entry wristbands for Temple nightclub- thank you Milton!
You know when you wake up the next morning and go, 'Man, how did last night get so out of control?' Well... Yep. Pretty much all the shenanigans can be traced back to this exact moment.

By the time we got to Temple nightclub, our group was pretty sizeable. And not quite smashed, but getting there. 

And I managed to lose every single one of them once we were inside. Good job, Georgia, of course you did. 

Two things about me that you should know before I proceed-

1. If you take me out dancing I can basically dance indefinitely, I love it so much.

2. Snoop Dogg is my JAM. 

I remember doing shots of Pisco that were on fire. I hate drinking pisco straight; hell, I'm at the point now where I'm reluctant even to have it in my cocktails. No more pisco sours! The people revolt!

Turns out you can have too much of a good thing. But hey... It was 40 soles for 5 shots and a stupidly large glass of beer. 

I remember dancing, a LOT. I remember dancing to Snoop Dogg in particular.

I think at one point I was behind the bar, just chilling with the bartenders. (I thought I could go two weeks without working, I was wrong.) I danced behind the bar. I knocked over a bottle. The bartenders were cool about it. 

I remember music thumping, people jumping, and taking a lot of selfies.

Recall kind of... Stops there, though.

All I know is that I had a blast.

According to my roommate, I came in at 4 and made a comical effort to put on my pyjamas.

Still better than the other time I got drunk on the trip and did Shakespeare in an awful Irish accent for her, though.

My roommate is a saint. 

The next day was understandably rough, for all of us.

Final lunch was at Papacho's, the GREATEST burger place in existence (and also our favourite bar in the city) and Damn am I going to miss that food like crazy. 

Come to think of it, I'm pretty much going to miss everything about Peru.

I'll miss the way there always seems to be a celebration on, and the dancing in Plaza de San Blas. I'll miss the vegans cafe's, and the lovely girls from the yoga room.

I even miss the way that traffic rules are more of a suggestion, and that using an indicator is considered poor form.

I think it's the people I'll miss most, though. 

My wonderful Peru team- they're all family now. It's going to be hard adjusting to not having this big family to talk to! I'll miss randomly breaking out in song, like, all the time. My life is no longer a musical and that's going to make me sad. 

This trip has been a blessing, and a hell of a time. I wish I could stay longer!

If my Spanish was better I may have just done that! (Just kidding, Mum.) 

With a pounding head and a heavy heart, but still

Much love,
- G 

Condors, Christi and Crystal meditation

Back in Cusco, city of vibe.

Yesterday we did a lot of things. And I've just gotta put this out there- Condors are the coolest things ever.

We started our day at the animal rescue centre in Cusco. This place takes in injured and endangered animals and takes care of them; and I'm not just talking about stray dogs. (There are a LOT of stray dogs in Peru, though. I mean a LOT.)

We saw them feed a puma called Mufasa. Pumas are incredible, and man I would NOT want to be on the receiving end if Mufasa lost their temper.

I held a Macaw; prettiest bird in the world, hands down.

I got to give a llama called Blanco a big hug and its was so fluffy you would not believe.

Then we went into the Condors enclosure.  

There's really no way to describe those birds aside from 'Majestic as fuck.'

Yes, that f-bomb was completely necessary. How else could I illustrate the full majesticness of their majesty?

The Andean condor is magnificent. It has a massive wingspan, it can live for 90 years, and oh my god it's huge. Like its such a big bird. The ones at the enclosure had been rescued from a festival where they were being used as entertainment- which is not only cruel and dumb but also highly illegal. Don't kidnap the Condor.

After they dragged me kicking and screaming away from the Condors, I went to basically the only other place that could make me just as happy- a jewellery store.

Esmerelda specialises in creating clothing from baby alpaca hair, none of which I could afford, and handcrafted silver jewellery; which I also couldn't afford, but like that was going to stop me.

We toured the workshop, and they explained to us the different kinds of alpaca wool, and how to tell the real from the sheep wool. You'll be happy to know that baby alpaca clothing doesn't actually hurt the alpaca- it's like shearing a sheep. I'm just putting that out there in case you were thinking it was like made from their skin. They also let us watch the jewellers making their work. I could've stayed there all day.

After we saw how it was made, we had a look around- and I fell in love.

This ring is too perfect. I spent many soles that day.

We walked up to the Cristo Blanco- and I really think I need one of these in my front yard.

'Which house is yours?'

'Just look for the giant Jesus statue dude.'

After exhausting our supply of Jesus puns, we descended back into Cusco.

Yesterday was a very special day for Cusco. Yesterday was Corpus Christi, which meant that almost everyone in Cusco crowded into the Plaza de Armas and had the biggest parade I have EVER seen. And I've been to many a Mardi gras.

It was crazy. Music, food, and people everywhere. So I did what every jaded westerner does when it gets a little too much; I went to KFC. Chilled out for a bit. Their fries are different to ours. 

Through all of this, I want you to remember that we hiked down from the Cristo Blanco. And that, weirdly enough, the pain in my legs from doing the Inca Trail never really seemed to stop. Or fade.

So needless to say, I didn't stick around in the Plaza de Armas for long.

The Corpus Christi celebrations went over the whole city. At the square closest to where I'm staying, Plaza de San Blas, there was a huge band and people dancing through the streets. Sometimes Cusco feels like a non-stop party. Wherever you go, it feels like you can always hear somebody playing the flute.

Barefoot Peruvian people leaned against the walls drinking gigantic bottles of beer. There was a lot of streetside urination going on.

The area where I'm staying kinda feels like the hippie district. There's three yoga places and four vegan cafes within walking distance.

I feel right at home. If I ever move here I'll be living near San Blas square man.

Naturally, when life gives you organic, gluten free, vegan and 100% sustainably sourced lemons, you make the most of it.

And so I found myself at a crystal meditation class.

While the rest of my group went to our favourite bar for copious amounts of alcohol, I was climbing the flights of stairs into the yoga room.

Crystal meditation was actually amazing. I'm a stark raving hippie at heart, but even for me this was a really new experience.

I walked in, and it was immediately apparent that we'd run into a problem; the yoga instructor only spoke Spanish.

Luckily, the owner of the Yoga place was there to translate.

It was just the three of us; the owner, the instructor, and me.

There was incense burning, and crystals arranged on the ground.

They gave me a blindfold. Not gonna lie, I was feeling pretty confronted right there, but I decided to roll with it. Letting a stranger blindfold you? What's the worst that could happen? Don't answer that.

It was weird. It was new. We aligned our Chakra's and felt the energy of the universe. Or something.

I loved it. At the end of the hour, I left with the biggest smile on my face.

I'm really glad it did it; having a strange new experience like that in a different country, all by myself... It's something I won't forget.

I've gotten a lot better at being my myself since I've been here- partially out of necessity, but I feel like knowing how to enjoy yourself in solitude is a good skill to have.

The rest of the night involved going from bar to bar with the rest of the group. In true party girl fashion, I went home to bed around 11.30- but I hear the shenanigans lasted until the sun was up. Good job guys.

Today, I've basically shopped. All day.

Guys- I think I'm addicted to buying Peruvian jewellery.

Apparently this afternoon will involve horseback riding. Horses aren't.exactly my forte, so uh... I'll let you know how that goes.

Time is going too fast! I fly out tomorrow night.

Much love!

- G xx 

Macchu Piccu and Incan buns

So it happened.

Macchu Piccu, one of the great wonders of the world, and I was there. I have the selfies to prove it.

Macchu Piccu comes from the Incan words meaning 'Old/ great mountain.'

It's the name of the mountain, the iconic structures on the mountain, and also the town at the bottom of the mountain. Welcome to Macchu Piccu, everybody.

Apparently, the correct pronunciation is 'Pick-chu.'

You're welcome.

We got the train from Ollantaytambo at a ridiculously early hour and travelled into Macchu Piccu town. It's a pretty adorable place, especially if you love people yelling, "Missy missy, you come here? You eat here lady!" even if they see you LITERALLY JUST WALKING OUT OF A RESTAURANT.

Macchu Piccu is incredible, though. The first day, we hiked up to the sun gate- andl seriously, the Incans must have had buns of steel. I've never climbed so many stairs in my life. I didn't even know that many stairs existed.

Up at the sun gate, we had a magnificent view of the structure. Apparently it's built shaped like a condor; I don't see it, but good for them.

Chilling at the Sun Gate, looking over Macchu Piccu from the mountain itself, I got chatting to some people who had hiked the Inca Trail all the way from the bottom of the mountain. ALL THE WAY.

Way to go, Scott from Denver Colorado. Way to make me feel lazy as all hell for getting the bus and only hiking a small section.

 

I did hike back down the mountain, though. It was tough. My calves were feeling it. Still are, actually.

You know those dreams you have where you walk but never get anywhere? That was the Inca Trail for me.

I thought about Sisyphus, endlessly climbing and pushing his boulder, and empathised a little bit. The was an air of the Jungian hero in every member of our group as they gritted their teeth and took on the stairway from hell with good grace. I like to think I had good grace. I kept the audible complaining to a minimum, at Least. For some reason I thought of Albert Camus a lot on that walk. I know, it's the Sisyphus thing. This is the kind of shit my dehydrated brain feeds me at the time, by the way. Always fun to be inside my head.

The next day, after a hectic night of parties and accidentally losing some drunken Canadians in the town (Don't worry; I found them again!) we headed back up to Macchu Piccu and explored the buildings with a local guide who gave us an insight into the history of Macchu Piccu.  Some of us were hung over. A lot of us were in post hike pain. All of us were tired. We weren't a very responsive crowd.

It was very interesting though! I wish I could remember some cool facts, but... You know what, I slept on a train. Y'all can google it.  

At present, we're heading back into Cusco. The next few days before we leave should be pretty fun, but it's breaking my heart that it's coming to an and.

I'll take on all the stairs, I'll hike the Inca Trail to the top of the mountain a thousand times. Just let me stay here.

Much love  

- G 

Adrenaline junkies and the Ol' salt mines

I realise I've been quite melodramatic in this blog so far. I've used the phrase 'I thought I was going to die,' a lot.

Sorry Mum.

To be fair, though, at the time I thought I was. There's been a lot of times, navigating these mountains in a big white bus, that I've closed my eyes and thought, 'Jesus take the wheel.'

Which is especially fitting as our bus driver is actually named Jesus. It's pronounced 'Heseuss,' but calling him by his correct name would mean passing up the opportunity for endless Jesus jokes. And when you meet Jesus, you don't just let that slide.

But anyway, before I start, I thought I'd just take this chance to reassure everyone that I am in fact Alive and well, and currently sitting in a Cafe in Ollantaytambo eating a plum brownie. And to say thank you to everyone who has been reading this and messaging me while I'm away! (So really just thanks again, Mum. It's nice to feel loved.)

Yesterday, we embarked on an activity which I had been approaching with some trepidation.

Generally, a moron, a mountain and a very fast bike is a recipe for disaster. An unfit moron,at that. If anyone could manage to break their neck mountain biking, chances are it would be this moron right here.

The moron is me, guys. Just in case you didn't get that yet. I'm the moron.

But surprisingly it was... Incredible.

We started off, and I was convinced that I would be super slow and unfit and get left behind immediately. Kind of the opposite was true, I ended up overtaking people and zooming down this mountain at crazy speeds.

The road was full of loose stones, sharp corners, and dips in the ground, but I found bracing myself against these obstacles to be an incredible rush. At one point, I hit a really bad section of road. My bike skidded, I started to freak out, but- and this is really exciting for me- I managed to keep my seat and get through it no problem.

Keeping control of that bike at a speed I can only describe as 'Hella Cray,' is now one of my prouder achievements.

I can't describe the feeling. Gathering speed, loose stones flying, the wind rushing in your face, and the most incredible view.

I was singing my lungs out, inaudible against the wind. My bike bumped and jolted, jarring my arms from the wrists to the shoulders.

We biked all the way to the Salt Ponds- which is truly an incredible sight.

From above, thousands of white salt pools looked like a collection of cells inside a living organism, lined up next to each other and reflecting sunlight, all the way to the valley floor.

Going down into the mine was something I'll never forget.

I've never seen so much salt in my life. Warm channels of water flowed between the pools as they dried in the sun, and we wandered carefully on the walls between the pools, struck by the beauty and ingenuity of such an incredible place.

Onward we biked, and the ground became rougher. Our hands cramped up from squeezing our brakes- going too fast here would mean an accident for sure.

But did I fall off? NO I DID NOT :D and I'm super proud of that.

At the end of the ride, we were on the banks of a river, down in the sacred valley. I was full of adrenaline.

Then a beautiful woman walked up to us and said, 'Hey! There's a brewery across that bridge. Ridiculously cheap beer tasters!'

Immediately, I pulled out my phone to text my best friend. 'Dude- I think I may have just lived your dream.'

The beer was awesome. I tried pink beer. It rocked. We had burritos for dinner afterwards. That rocked too.

All in all, everything rocked that day.

Except for... Well, how do I put this delicately. There are bruises on my ass. On all our asses, I hear. Mountain biking comes at a price.

Today, we took on the ziplines. I'd been psyching myself up for this for weeks, because the truth is- well, I'm terrified of heights. I'm a big fat chicken. Yesterday was a lot of fear facing for me; going fast makes me feel like I'm not in control. And I'm terrified of losing control.

Ziplines are the perfect combination of heights, speed and the complete helplessness of being suspended on a wire with nothing to stop yourself with to turn my knees to jelly.

Gee that was personal. Talking about my fears? I gotta go punch a wall to feel tough again.

At the first zipline, looking over the edge, my immediate thought was incredibly profound. I thought, 'Shit, what if I pee myself on here? I don't want to pee myself. I have to pee.'

Spoiler alert: I didn't pee myself. Yes, I'm proud of me too.

When they clipped me on to the wire- I'll be honest, I made peace with dying.

Nineteen years is a good run, I thought. Jesus and I are pretty tight bros. I'm ready.

Complete and utter acceptance of dying didn't stop me from screaming like a white girl being told that her local Starbucks was out of pumpkin spice lattes, though. I made more noise than the donkeys at Misminay did while we were all trying to sleep.

But, as I made clear at the beginning, today was not the day I met my maker.

Instead, it was the day I took my lifelong fears of heights and losing control and kicked them both in the face.

The view was spectacular. The adrenalin rush beat everything I've encountered so far. It was the biggest thrill I've ever had.

There's this thing the instructors called 'The Superman.'

You put your harness on backwards, and go across the wire lying on your stomach, arms out, looking down at the massive drop beneath you.

It's the ultimate loss of control. An instructor goes across, holding your legs and brakes for you at the other side so you don't plough into the mountain. Your life is entirely in their hands.

'I have to do this,' I thought. Time to prove to myself that I can.

And it was... Liberating.

A feeling of complete and total freedom, the rush of the wind and the view of the sacred valley and... Everything. Oh my god. I have never felt so alive before in my life.

I don't know if I would call myself a thrillseeker. But I want to feel that rush again. It was amazing.

We returned around 1pm, and there was no way I could sit still. I decided to hike up one of the surrounding mountains by myself- as much as I love everyone on my team, I'm an introvert at heart and was in desperate need of a solo adventure.

And, predictably, I got lost. I hiked through the entire town instead looking for the way to the trail. Which wasn't bad at all, Ollantaytambo is beautiful. There's channels of water running everywhere, and the cobbled streets and Incan walls and fascinating.

Which is how I found myself back at my favourite Cafe, having my first really good cup of coffee since arriving in Peru.

All in all, an action packed few days,and a very happy Georgia. Macchu Piccu tomorrow!  

Much love!

- G xx 

So the greenhouses are built completely, and our work is over! To say thank you to the families that helped us build and let us be part of their life for the past week, we decided to say thank you with a present of some groceries- rice, pasta, fruit and veggies, and other things that they can't grow themselves.

We took a TukTuk (adorable motorcycle taxi) into Urubamba to visit the markets to get the groceries, and uh... Yeah, I managed to get us lost again. #sozguys

Last night was an adventure and a half.

We had some street vendor food- churros are life, man- and wandered around. Peruvian markets are exciting. There's a bread section, and a meat section, as well as a section for fruits, cheeses, and goodness knows that else. I love how weird some of the stuff is.

We got 100% cocoa chocolate as well- you don't know true pain or true hilarity until you see somebody put this stuff in their mouth thinking it tastes like regular chocolate.

So, yes, okay, I got us really lost, and we MAY have ended up in a strange alley being possibly followed by a strange man mumbling things continuously (we think we was just confused rather than malicious, but he sure didn't help the vibe of the situation) but in the end we flagged down a TukTuk and made it back with five minutes to spare. Boo yah.

To celebrate the end of construction, we decided to have a celebratory drink or two.

And by that, I mean we polished off two bottles of spirits in a worryingly short amount of time with nothing so much as resembling a mixer. RSA be damned.

After about my third or fourth, I got it into my head that I had Australia's whole reputation as a nation of champion drinkers to uphold against my American comrades. I wasn't just drinking for me. I was drinking for Australia. You're welcome, Australia.

It was this reputation that found me singing past midnight and forcing anybody who came into my room to use liberal amounts of hand sanitiser whilst declaring that pants were overrated, and that I could get by perfectly fine without them. Hey, from what I hear, I did, so that's nice. Take that, pants.

Next morning, not so nice. Heading up to Misminay for the last time was bittersweet- working with the families, we'd gotten close to them, and it was going to be so hard to leave. On the other hand, we'd never have to climb those crazy Hills to the worksite again. Let me tell you, climbing that hill today, every single step reminded me that drinking that much the night before was a colossal mistake.

Saying goodbye to Erico and Tomasa and their children was hard. There may have been a few tears. Not me though. It was just, uh... Raining on my face.

But knowing that now they won't have to travel all the way to Urubamba (which is a mad long trip!) for vegetables, and instead can grow them in their backyard, made the whole week of bruises, sore muscles and exhaustion worth it. Something was built that helps a wonderful community towards a sustainable development. That's awesome.

After leaving Misminay, we headed to the town of Ollantaytambo. It's okay, I can't pronounce it either.

There we dropped some clothes off for a well needed laundry service, and hiked up a mountain to check out some Incan ruins. The Incan structures at Ollantaytambo were actually the last ones to be found and conquered by that Spanish- there's a temple made of granite that was sourced from a quarry 10 kilometres away, which really puts all of our wimpy adoba-brick carrying into perspective. Damn.

The great thing about Peru is that they always seem to be celebrating something. Today, there was music and Incan dancing, and a bonfire in the street- which was odd but very cool. There was also a lot of fireworks.

When they started exploding above me, they were so close that I stopped dead in the middle of the street to clap and jump like a little kid. There's really nothing more incredible that being on a street filled with the music of flutes and a beaten drum while a shower of stars fall fizzling towards you.

Tomorrow, we mountain bike to the salt mines. Bikes and salt. Salty bikes. I'm excited. Trying to figure out how to add pictures to the blog, so if I can do that, these posts may get slightly more exciting. Wish me luck!

Much love!

- G 

Misminay with minimal casualties.

So much has happened in the few days it's been since my last post. I'm going to try and keep this post concise in the same way that publishing companies try to rebrand Austen so it appeals to readers of trashy paperbacks; a clear effort is made, very badly, and the end result is that of literally no difference being made.

So first we went to Chinchero, where we saw how Peruvian weaving and fabric dyeing is done. It's awesome, by the way. I got two ponchos, both pink.

I also met a llama named Pacha (to keep the emperor's new groove thing happening) who looked EXACTLY LIKE ME. I know. I miss him already.

After that we went to the mountain village of Misminay, where we were to be working for the next week. The people there are LOVELY and the village is so beautiful.

Perched on the side of a mountain, they have the most incredible view of the Andes and the sacred valley.

We drove out of Misminay that day and the view from our bus was breath taking.

Which was probably a bad thing considering we were at 12,000 feet and most of us already spent most of the day gasping for breath in the thin mountain air. And by most of us, I mean me.

Sombre, monolithic mountain ranges with.shifts of snow at the peak stood encircled by fluffy clouds like proud guardians as the fourteen of us bumped and swayed along the dusty roads.

Below, winding tracks criscrossed the open paddocks dotted with tiny houses, which became sprawling clusters of houses with rooves glinting in the sunlight as we drove closer to Urubamba.

Urubamba means place of the spider in Quechua, by the way. Which is, uh... Comforting!

Bright and early the next day, it was time to start construction. Building a greenhouse involves stacking adoba, or big bricks made from clay mud and straw, and cementing them with Ballo- mud mixture. Needless to say, all of us were filthy.

So begs the question; a hapless Drinan building in a strange place, did she sustain any injuries?

Guys, I'm insulted. Of course I did.

While carrying a brick down a hill, I slipped and sliced my leg. My pain tolerance is higher that Wiz Khalifa (and this is not an invitation to pinch me when I'm home. You know who you are.) so it was fine.

Whilst cleaning it off, though, I did attract an audience of concerned Peruvian ladies who said a lot of thing in Quechua that I didn't understand and were highly amused at my Mickey Mouse bandaids.

After day one, we had a Spanish cooking class. We learnt to make Lomo Saltado. And I managed to limit the casualties to one that day. No volunteers were hurt in the making of this Lomo Saltado.

Day two was gruelling. I'm blaming the altitude, but fact is I'm probably just really unfit. We finished the walls, and levelled out the floor, and I went ape shit with a pickaxe. I'm not an angry person, but if I was... Man. Problemo solved right there.

So after the day of going American Psycho on a mound of dirt, the idea of a sunset hike was like my own personal version of hell.

Just when I thought it was about to die of exhaustion, a white Ute roars past and our team leader yells 'JUMP!'

So we did. Fourteen of us piled into the tray of this Ute to go up the mountain.

His driving was- well, I can't see him claiming any safe driver benefits with his insurance. At one point, he nearly went over the edge and I thought I actually was going to die. But it turned out okay. He drove us a bit of the way, and we survived. Mostly.

Then, we continued the horrendous, exhausting hike to the peak.

But Goddamn was it worth it.

Guys. I climbed a mountain. I actually did it. I'm so proud.

And the view was.... I wish I had words. But not even my photos so it justice.

That night, we stayed in Misminay with the local families. It was amazing. And cold.

We had a lesson in Quechua which, predictably, turned into us learning as many naughty words as we could, because we are twelve, while the Quechua family in the back of the room tried and failed to stifle their laughter.

Ask me how to say boobies in Quechua. I know it.

Misminay is full of livestock, too. Chickens, sheep, bulls, donkeys... I'll just say this, Donkey's are DRAMA QUEENS.

They bray like somebody's just stuck a knife in them. Like really!? There's no need. Let me sleep. I have a lot of greenhousing to do tomorrow.

Today, we were up at 5 for a sunrise hike. I thought I was past complaining about being either tired, muddy, cold or sore, but a 5am hike really takes them all to new levels.

There was some silent hill kind of fog happening, but once it cleared we had a beautiful view of the Inca structures at Moray.

Greenhouse progress today stands at OH MY GOD ITS ALMOST DONE!! Just the roof to go.

And did the hapless Drinan fall again? Yes, of course I did. My foot went straight through what I thought was solid ground and I landed on some magical stinging plant. It's cool. I tough cookie.

After the days building, we had a lesson in Salsa dancing.

Make dat booty work. I may have twerked. I'm not proud of this.  

Massive few days! Another massive few days coming up.  Excited to put the finishing touches on Misminay's greenhouses tomorrow!

As always, much love for you all xx

- G 

Last night, I had a plan for my day. It was a plan that involved getting a reasonable amount of sleep and not dying in the day ahead. Unfortunately for me, Jetlag decided my plan was doomed to failure and around 3am, it seemed I was up for good.

Once the sun was up, I decided to do what any not-quite-20-year-old would do when unleashed alone on a strange country.

I went to church. 

A Catholic church, no less. If my mother could see me now...

The basilica de la catedral in the Plaza de Armas is- I think- the largest church in Cusco, and an incredibly historic site. It's also overwhelmingly beautiful on the inside. Never before in my life have I seen so many ornate depictions of religious iconography lining the walls of one place.

Mass was entirely in Spanish, which was to be expected, but as confusing as it was there was a beautiful feel of unity in the air among the congregation.

At one point I was doused with holy water and, you'll be pleased to note, I managed to curb the impulse to scream 'Argh! It burns!' as the water hit me. I know. I'm proud of me too.

Walking out of church, it was immediately apparent that there was some kind of parade going on. (For me? You shouldn't have.) Military dudes, marching bands, confetti, balloons; you name it, it was there.

The best part, though, was when what seemed like all of the children in Cusco marched through the square in an overwhelming display of adorableness.

Heart= well and truly melted.

After this, it was time to meet up with the team I will be working with for the next two weeks, thus officially ending my time as a solo traveller.

The walking tour of Cusco proved to be awessome- sneaky visit to a chocolate museum (I know, right?!) even more so.  

Come 4pm, the massive day, crazy altitude and little sleep I'd had was catching up to me. Boy was I feeling it.

So I was a little less than thrilled when I learned that, come 5pm, we were headed on a nightwalk. Especially since Cusco is like 90% stair. 

The Treacherous stairs and all of my grumbling, however, was completely nullified when we got to see Cusco lit up and laid out before us like a glittering tapestry.

I love this city. It's beautiful, but that's not all. It's... Vibrant. Teeming with energy.

Tomorrow we head to greater altitudes, at the mountain village of Misminay. Excited for what the week will bring.

Much love,

- G 

Cusco is bustling. Dusty. Loud. Exciting. Beautiful. Strange. And dusty. Did I mention dusty?
There's a lot of fireworks. Even in the Daytime.

Today I ventured out and got hopelessly lost. Which is difficult when you don't have an actual destination, but nevertheless I managed it.
I bought a groovy bag, and ate... Some kind of delicious meat on a stick. I tried Inca cola. I drank A whole pineapple. I was invited out for Pisco sours by an artist who sold me two paintings- as lovely as they were, I'm not much of a cocktails at 10 in the morning kind of girl.
However, after much wandering and excitement, it was time to face facts; I was Jetlagged, alone, and had no idea where I was.
I hopped in a cab,and told him to take me to my hostel. As I met with his blank look it occurred to me I should probably have made more of an effort to learn Spanish.
After many futile attempt to communicate using hand gestures and terrible, terrible Spanish on my part, he eventually said something that sounded like a place- to which I responded, 'si, si!' enthusiastically, because it was nice to be going SOMEWHERE.

By sheer luck it happened to be the right place.
Cusco, you are a cruel and beautiful mistress.

But after a nap (I know! I come halfway around the world to nap. I'm disgusted with myself.) I'm preparing to venture out yet again; this time in search of soup.

Much love!
- G

I love air travel. It's a brilliant combination of awesome machines and having a genuine excuse to sit around and be lazy whilst being delivered food on a regular and timely basis.
I can also pretend I'm an astronaut during takeoff, so there's that.
One small step for man... One pre-packeged casserole and packet of crackers for mankind.

Safe landing in Peru was safe, by the way. Mum. Hello.

Cusco is amazing so far. When you land at night, the only thing visible are the lights on the mountains. It's like arriving into a place that's made up entirely of stars.

Fun fact of the day that I just found out, though... Apparently toilet paper goes into the bin, not the toilet. Dunno how I feel about that....

So, with the Jetlag setting in and somebody in the street outside blasting the Backstreet boys (You do you, man. Play it proud.) I'm off to bed.

Much love!
- G

Qantas flight LA800 is delayed. Which is good, because I need the extra time to sit around and consider every possible thing that could go wrong on this trip. There isn't enough time in a normal day for me to get all the worrying I want done.

Don't get the wrong idea; I'm a fairly optimistic person. I'm just also a fairly good catastrophiser.
On my resume, it lists my special skills as 'Organisation (ha,) good communication, and able to worry about literally anything.

In all seriousness; I've never travelled alone before. And I'm scared as hell. But that's okay.
Two and a bit weeks in Peru is going to be amazing, and I couldn't be more excited.

In the meantime, there's a lot to look at in the airport. Planes, planes are great. I'll Keep this blog updated as best I can for anybody interested in reading up on my shenanigans.

Much love,
- G xx