I'm Just Going to Close My Eyes

Peru. Land of delicious food, magical mountains, and absolutely terrifying roads. Understandably, road creation in the Andes mountains is more difficult than fighting off a monkey in heat (more on that later), but it isn’t until you’re packed into a collectivo on your way to the Amazon that you realize just how inappropriate these roads are #rude. I’m sure there are easier, safer ways to observe this, but I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t say "fuck it" and throw caution to the wind. 

Before leaving cusco, mi amiga Shelby and I decided we had to spend a few days in la selva. We had little interest in going on an organized tour that felt more like cattle herding than an actual experience (#DidIMentionImVegan), and where hearing Chelsea ask, “hablas ingles?” was more common than silence. So, we found a volunteer opportunity at an ecological reserve where we could learn about the native flora and fauna, and sleep with monkeys… which was much more our style. Especially the sleeping with monkeys part (ayyy). The reserve was about 6 hours from Cusco by bus, thus bringing us full circle as to how we ended up like little blanca sardines in a collectivo taking on the Andean cliffs like a motherfucker. 

The journey began pretty mellow as we drove through the outskirts of Cusco towards the countryside. I don’t think I could ever tire of staring at Andean mountains. There is something otherworldly about them; as if they possess a knowledge of a life we can’t even dream of (bcuz they do, #ayahuasca). As we approached a sign for Manú National Park, I knew our journey would leave the valley floor and continue up into those god-like mountains. The higher we climbed the more spectacular the views became. Far below us a muddy river snaked through the vibrant, rural landscape. Undoubtedly one could hear it’s roar if standing in silence - the sound of which is peaceful from a distance, but overwhelmingly powerful when sitting on the riverbank. The hillsides were freckled with llamas and alpacas grazing on the abundant lush vegetation. Gazing out the window I felt like I could sit and stare for hours, days on end and always find something new to marvel at. My trance was broken, however, by the sudden stop of our vehicle. A line of cars indicated that there must be an issue with the road itself. 

“A pie, a pie!” a woman shouted behind me.

I looked over at Shelby who seemed to be mirroring my expression.

“What the fuck?!” her face said to me. 

“I have no idea” my eyes replied.

We followed in suit of passengers of other collectivos, exited our vehicle, and began walking along the road. Up until this moment I had been too mesmerized by the scenery to notice the less than ideal road conditions. Rural Peruvian mountain roads are almost always dirt, and during rainy season this means mud. Slippery, sticky, treacherous mud. Not to mention the roads are barely wide enough to fit one collectivo, which leaves little room for error considering going off-road meant falling down a cliff of the highest mountain range outside of Asia (fuck yeah I googled that fact). I felt the sensation of wonder and awe I had been lost in slowly begin to wash away. In it’s place came fear - in all of its manifestations - and we were running directly into the heart of it.

Apparently, to the other 13 Peruvian passengers running ahead of us, this was just another bus ride. Shelby and I, although attempting to resist the American fear conditioned into us, could hardly believe what was happening. As we ran after our companions, our driver was behind us started honking to encourage us to pick up the pace. Running at high elevations is already a trying task, but this was made even harder our feet suction cupped themselves into the thick, red layer of mud that covered the "road".  We immediately broke out into laughter, partly at the ridiculousness of the situation and partly out of sheer terror. I was unbelievably concerned and thoroughly entertained all at the same time. It was only moments before we were back inside our bus, but ittle did we know this was just what we athletes call “the warm up”.

Before long we were back on the road, and the bright blue and white buildings slowly merged back into the landscape as we climbed up into the mountains. Compared to the second half of our journey, the first half was how you say… tranquila, even with our 40 yard mud gallop. The road was riddled with pot holes, which is better than being riddled with herpes but still not ideal. Somehow, I was dozing in and out of sleep, only to be jolted awake every dos minutos as my body would fly up in the air, free fall for a moment, and then slam back down into the seat undoubtedly wreaking havoc on my lumbar spine. BUT BITCH I WAS HEADED TO THE JUNGLE SO I SUCKED THAT SHIT UP. Plus, I take care of my spine #yoga.

We entered into Manu National Park as the sun was beginning to set. Immediately a thick fog surrounded us, an ominous welcome from the jungle. It felt like a hug, but more like an unsolicited hug from your high school social studies teacher who wears an extremely pungent perfume and afterwards all you can smell is her and it gives you a headache and for some reason you feel dirty.

Woah, okay I’m back. I got lost in that unfortunate flashback. Where were we? Oh yeah, deep in the jungle driving into a cloud at an alarmingly rapid rate given the visibility conditions. Our velocity slowed down as we neared a long line of cars. Traffic in the jungle, how ironic. Our driver pulled in line with the other cars, put the car in park, and exited the vehicle. Shelby an dI exchanged a look that clearly meant “….right”. 

“Sabes qué esta pasando?” Shelby asked. 

The woman sitting in the front seat gave us vague response that essentially meant there was road construction and we would be waiting for a couple of hours. “Road construction” in Peru apparently means “there was a big ass fucking land slide and we have to wait until the man on the backhoe (and I ain’t talkin about yo mama) moves enough dirt so that we can hopefully drive over the ‘road’ without more boulders falling from ridiculous heights.” It’s cool mom, I’m fine. 

We passed the two hours playing guitar (not me), eating granola, and channeling our Peruvian patience while standing with everyone else and staring at the construction - as one does. Quite punctually it was time to get on the road again. By now the sun had fallen below the horizon and a subtle rain accompanied the fog. I was not convinced the road was suitable for our passage, but I had to just surrender into the moment. There’s nothing more terrifying for me than losing all control over a situation. All I can really do when this happens is breathe, remain present, and experience life as it comes… which is much easier said than done. The engine started and we made our way over the makeshift dirt bridge. Barely moving we crossed over a waterfall and the van rocked back and forth as we crept forward. I reached for Shelby’s hand fearing we would tip over, and held on so tightly my fingertips turned white. 

“If I just close my eyes I won’t be afraid,” I thought, “I won’t be able to see where we are going. It will be easier.”

I  squeezed my eyes closed hoping to avoid any terrifying images, but just as I did this the voice of Kucho (my Shaman hermano) popped into my head.

“Asi es la vida” he said. “Estas caminando pero no ver.” (si es necesario, revisit the gringos link)

I flashed back to the moment when he had sad this to me. We were hiking Machu Picchu and in order to get out of the rain had climbed into una cueva just off the path. There we sat - Kucho smoking tobacco and me freezing my ass off but completely content - watching people walk by. Most people paid no attention to us. In fact, most of them weren’t even aware of our presence… which seems hard to believe considering Kucho was singing and playing a maraca but hey, no judgement. Every so often someone would let out an “Ay Dios!” when they realized we were nearby, frightened by something they had not seen yet had been there all along. I was fascinated by our general aloofness as humans, and of Kucho’s profoundly simple explanation of this phenomenon. He was right. We get so caught up in moments other than the present we end up looking, but not seeing - walking, but not seeing. It’s no wonder we are scared by things that have been right in front of our face all along. 

Remembering this, I forced my eyes open, determined to see the path ahead of me. I hadn’t set out on this journey to repeat the same fear patterns. I had come to conquer them. And while opening my eyes on a collectivo might seem insignificant, it was one small step for Natalie… one giant step for her consciousness. 

Entonces, eyes wide open I braced myself for the remainder of the journey. It turned out our stop was not much further down the road. We were the first to get off - shelby, Amanda (our new compañera), and I. It was now completely dark out, and the rain had intensified slightly. I set my backpack down inside the roadside hut next to a sign that read “Reserva Ecológica Chonta Chaca” although at the time I couldn’t see it. Amanda, who was returning to the reserve for the second time, informed us we would have to hike down to meet Ethan, our guide… and resident Tarzan man. Lol right. No big deal. We’ll just hike through the Amazon at 11pm… Shelby in her birkenstocks and me with a headlamp on that, while seemingly a good idea, ended up attracting the millions of insects inhabiting the jungle around us making walking so difficult I contemplated just succumbing to the darkness. Nevertheless, we trusted the path we were on. Shelby nearly fell a few times, and I got bitch slapped by a few gigantic moths, but we finally found our way to Ethan. I let out a sigh of relief, thinking we had come to the end of expedition. 

“Okay, so who wants to go first?” Tarzan called out. “Natalie?”

“Bitch what!?” replied my inner voice. Luckily for me, my brain is a master translator, so my verbal response was a confident “Sure, why not.” I didn't know exactly what was about to happen, but I could hear a river below us and figured it somehow involved crossing that. Ethan led me over to a platform which I then realized was hooked up to a zipline. 

“Oh. So that’s how we are crossing the river.” I thought. 

I attempted to keep it cool on the outside, but that just turned into nervous laughter. Ethan instructed me how to balance my weight on the platform because of course there was no way to actually strap myself in. He counted to three, and jumped on board with me as we soared over the river. I couldn’t help but let out a yell as exhilaration replaced the fear I was experiencing. 

We landed on the opposite side, sent the platform back across, and waited for Shelby and Amanda to join us. Once they arrived, Ethan led us back to our room. We were given a mosquito net tutorial and a warning about the neon yellow porcupines often found chillin in the bathrooms at night. With that, Shelby and I crawled into bed happy to indulge in some much needed rest. However, this didn’t come without one final surprise.. of course. Just as I was about to fall asleep I heard a thump above my head. Without electricity it was hard to make out what I was seeing in the dark, but I was pretty certain there was a fucking monkey in our room.

“Shelby” I whispered, “She’s here.”

As I said that, Paula (the monkey) jumped down onto the floor and crawled up into the bed next to Shelby. I mean let’s be honest, what first night in the Amazon is complete without a monkey? I’ll do you one better though… a howler monkey, in heat (I promised more on horny monkeys, and I delivered). Oh yeah. We later learned that Paula had a thing for Ethan, and prior to coming into our room she was attempting to seduce him… and by that I mean making weird noises and licking his toes. Take notes ladies. This happened quite frequently, but Ethan apparently wasn’t into it, and after being rejected one too many times by that fuck boy Paula really needed a #LadiesNight. “Bitch don’t even sweat it, he doesn’t deserve you”. 

After the shock of Paula’s guest appearance wore off, I reflected on my day as I began to drift to sleep. Despite the turbulence along the way, I found myself overwhelmed with contentment. Peru taught me many things, but over and over again it showed my just how wonderful life can be when I release fear. That doesn’t mean I never feel fear -there were countless circumstances where I found myself more terrified than humpty dumpty on a visit to the Great Wall of China. 

It means that I might be scared, but I do it anyway. Fortune favors the brave chicos, but we have to be willing to walk into the fire. To know that it might not be pleasant, but it will always be worth it. To keep our faith that even if we are in the dark, without a flashlight, in the rain, with no fucking idea where we are going… the path is still there. To keep our eyes open even when we are terrified of what we might see. 

P.S. - For those of ya'll who are curious... this is Paula.