The last 48 hours have been all about moving. The long trek home, and yet I find myself 2,297 Google Map Miles away from Ann Arbor, my bed, not having to search for a hostel and most importantly my wife. I miss her. I'm starting to feel bad for having left her for so long. I think today marks 8 weeks of my summer run. What A Long Strange Trip It's Been. I've enjoyed every bit of it, but when I was sitting in the Houston airport yesterday morning at 7am, I looked at the map on my iPhone and noticed that I had a 4 hour flight to Portland, although it was only about a 3 hour flight to Ann Arbor. What am I doing? I thought.
So, to start us off in Puerto Maldonado. Walk to the market in search of my last Peruvian Breakfast. Then jump in a mototaxi to the airport. Fly to Cusco. Short layover, but don't change planes (very rare these days), and then fly the rest of the way to Lima. Taxi into town. Walk around. The final lunch and dinner. Taxi back to the airport. Fly to Houston. Customs. Flight to Portland is delayed 2 hours or so. Delightful. Fly to Portland. Take the MAX to Sunset Transit Center in Beaverton, OR and then Bus 89 to the corner of Cornell and 119th. Walk up the hill to John and Amanda Englund's house. Grab a bowl of cereal and collapse on the couch. Get a ride to the Spaghetti Factory with John, where I am picked up by Aunt Jeannette, and drive to her house in Parkdale, OR. That's enough transportation for 48 hours.
Slept well last night. Although I never took a shower, and likely need one (I never can tell). I bought a new shirt in Lima the other night because Elizabeth said I smelled like a stinkbug and I didn't think it was fair to let someone suffer through a 7 hour flight with a noxious odor 9 inches away. However, I'm thinking this shirt is now as bad as the last. Laundry is the only thing left on my to-do list today.
This morning I had to, somewhat painstakingly, go back into planning mode. I usually like planning. It is a complex puzzle with a multitude of possibilities, no one path being the correct choice. No right or wrong choices, just better choices and not so good choices. When I took my field trip to NYC with my Delta students I was put in charge of planning. I enjoyed it. $50,000 to spend, 13 people in the Big Apple, almost two weeks. It was great. This trip has been similar (not the $ part, despite what you might think about my wife rolling in the Google dough). 8 weeks on the road. The daily questions are always Where to sleep? How to get there? All the while trying to pinch pennies and get by without having to dig into your wallet too deep. That's the appeal of Warmshowers.org. But I digress. Back to this morning.
I'm an hour east of Portland. I don't exactly feel like getting on my bike. And it's not exactly the bike riding part. (In fact, I think a ride up to Govertment Camp and the Shining's "Overlook Hotel" is in order. The Timberline Lodge at Mt. Hood was used as the exterior for the filming. Danny isn't here Mrs. Torrance.) It's the Where am I going to sleep tonight? What route am I going to take? The planning. I'm all planned out. I spent an hour or so twittling around on Craiglist's Rideshare page. Trying to hook up a free ride, either east or south, it doesn't really matter. Either through San Francisco, my original route, or through Idaho to visit a friend and be a cowboy. But I wasn't feeling it. Kind of like when I'm not in blogging mood, and so nothing happened.
Cutting to the chase. pedalperupedal has become pedalperutrytofindouthowtogethomeasquicklyandcheaplyaspossible. I bought a ticket from PDX to SLC for Saturday. That should give me two nice days to enjoy the raspberries, strawberries and views of Mt. Hood before descending on Utah. And I just moved up my plane ticket back to Ann Arbor. I was originally flying home the 28th, but I found something cheaper for the 23rd, so only 11 short days until I see my wife. Can't wait. She's been overwhelming kind and supportive. In fact, when I tell people about my travels the first thing most people say isn't, Oh, what a cool trip! or That's a long bike ride! or anything of the like. The first thing they usually say is, You've got a pretty nice wife for letting you do all of this. And I agree. Thank you Katy. I love you.
But there are going to be many things that I miss. Of Peru and Cycling.
1. Meeting new people. Whether a French bear researcher in British Columbia or a half naked man named Pablo in the Amazonian jungle. I love meeting new people and wondering what it's like to walk in their shoes? What makes them tick? The best part about new people is always their overwhelming generosity. Peruvians carry such a stern look on their face, but that instantly breaks as soon as you offer some garbled-English accented Spanish greetings. Whether they were willing to point me in the right direction, help me with my Spanish, offer me a meal or a place to sleep. I can say they've been Christlike.
2. The unknown. When I get back to Ann Arbor I have a schedule that will be pretty consistent for the next 4 years. The underlying theme is wake up, school, work. Sure there will be variations. And the next four years will no doubt be filled with joy and new experiences, but there is some level of unknown mystery that exists when you are traveling across the country or through Peru. The unknown's include, what does the next turn in the road hold, how far til the next pass, where will I sleep tonight. In Peru it was a bit different: what did they just say? what did I just say? I wonder what I ordered for lunch? I hope there is a place to stay on that island? This morning I was looking for either a) a ride to Boise b) a ride to San Francisco or c) a flight to Portland. It's nice to live on a whim once in a while.
3. Getting on my bike everyday. Freedom. Unattached from cars, traffic. Just get up and go. See what you want. Travel at your own place.
4, In Peru: street food. We, and by we I mean America, needs to get in on this little secret our friends to the south aren't exactly sharing with us. Anywhere in Peru you pull 1 "nuevo sole" (their currency) out of your pocket (about 37 cents) and in return you've got a delicious treat in your hand. It became so common place, and so wonderful that Eli and I started refering to the 1 Sole coin as a Token. A Token can get you ice cream, churros, popcorn (but not normal popcorn, Peruvian popcorn. Sweet, slightly chewy and according to Sarah Diamond the best antidiarrheal on the market. And that's coming from a Nurse who works with old people. Really old people.), a papa rellena (refilled potatoes, often with meat, chicken and vegetables, then deep fried), fresh slices of pineapple, watermelon. The list goes on and on, and as I foolishly figured out it also includes 2 kilograms of carrots.
And some of the miss-nots.
1. Peruvian OCD when it comes to money. If you've got a coin with a scratch on it, they won't take it. Slight rip in a bill, might as well throw it away. Trying to buy something for 2 soles with a 20. Forget it. Apparently change doesn't really exist in this county.
2. Paying to use the restroom. Not that cool. Getting a receipt for using the restroom. Awesome. Elizabeth liked to keep her receipts to track her bowel movements.
3. Bartering for prices. It's fun once in a while, but not something you want to do everytime you get in a taxi or want to fall asleep at night.
4. Half napkins at restaurants. You can always tell you're getting a cheap meal if your napkin looks like paper machete and you use up about 8 of them just to clean your mouth.
As for now, I think I'll take that long overdue shower, wash my clothes and pick some raspberries. One last blog entry when I get to Alta, then it will be back to my home.
No comments:
Post a Comment