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