(The Journey) I am on my way to Peru. I left San Francisco last night at 9pm, arrived at LAX, went home for 5 hours to switch bags and headed back to the airport. Our plane had mechanical problems and I spent from 6am until 12 noon waiting in line…. trying to get on a plane to Lima….

…my bags went on one flight, and after a detour to Newark Airport where the plane iced over, I finally made it to Lima and up to Cusco- without my bag.

Upon arrival I trudged up an alley and located a hostel a friend had recommended. My heart is beating wildly and I find the white-washed stone walls oddly still. Nothing moves around me as I try to rest in this familiar and yet new environment. My heart races all night long- unable to sleep- in the morning I walk back to the square and use my little spanish to get una-cafe-con-leche. At the cafe overlooking the town plaza, I introduced myself to some other travelers. A couple from Norway, and an Australian named Sam have met up in Cusco after originally meeting in the Galapagos and plan to do the same trek as my friends and I soon. The kindness of strangers and the open nature of travelers nourishes my wanderlust soul.

I am in Cusco for a few days before the rest of the group is to arrive. (I have been preaching the importance of exercise before coming to this high elevation, and it seems that I am hit unexpectedly hard by altitude sickness- my usually sub-par joints have turned my arms and legs to permanent pins and needles).