Storms Never Last Ch. 01

This I got from the taxi driver, explaining to me why he had his wipers on while driving us to the Crillón, where we were staying for a couple of days. Lima is a large city, unfortunately not the lovely place it had been in the past. The food and music, along with the beer, are world class, and having sampled them we quickly moved on to Cuzco.

Cuzco is a lovely and fascinating city, built on the ruins of the ancient Incan buildings. The important thing to know about this colonial city is that it's at eleven thousand feet, and surrounded by mountains three to four thousand feet higher. This gave us two quick adventures; the swooping down over the mountains to quickly land was enough to make us reconsider whether flying really made sense.

The second adventure was equally compelling: we discovered the wonderful world of soroche after climbing two flights of stairs at the hotel. The staff of the hotel knew full well the effects of altitude sickness and how to deal with it. Room service sent up some coca leaves in a pitcher of hot water. While the leaves are the raw ingredient for cocaine, it was frequently used to make a tea that was mildly narcotic, and was surprisingly effective in alleviating our symptoms.

Taking the strongly suggested nap we awoke, feeling wonderfully refreshed. We wandered out of the hotel to immerse ourselves in the bustle of this wonderful city. We wound up at the cathedral listening to a group of musicians playing the traditional harps and pan pipes. When they played El Condor Pasa, Annie started crying at the sadly melancholic notes of the song. The lyrics of Paul Simon's version came to mind:

"Away, I'd rather sail away,
Like a swan that's here and gone.
A man gets tied up to the ground,
He gives the world
Its saddest sound,
Its saddest sound."

Funny that I'd never really listened to the message of the song, and hugging Annie tightly, I had some mistiness in my eyes too. It seemed this total change of locale would be good for her to regain the equilibrium of the girl I'd grown up with.

I told her not to give coins to the street urchins, but she of course ignored me, laughing every time they gathered around. Sometimes I felt like we were at the head of a parade. I was getting hungry, so to get away from the kids I pulled her into a restaurant, where I quickly found that the local beer, Cuzcueña, was as good as anything from Europe. I asked the waiter to recommend something for dinner and had him order cuy for both of us. Annie wasn't impressed when he served us two orders of Guinea Pig. I think Annie would have been game, but when she saw the tiny feet, still with the cutest little claws protruding, she turned a bit green. I actually liked it. It had a taste similar to rabbit, or maybe the dark meat of chicken.

After dinner we sat in the lobby of the hotel, still fighting off the soroche by drinking a cup of coca tea. I asked her how her dinner was.

"Terry! How could you eat that poor little thing? It looked like it had been someone's pet."

Teasing her, I replied, "Well yeah, it probably was."

She hit my arm, and laughed. "It was nice to sit and relax, with absolutely nothing to do." With a dreamy look, she continued, "The people are so nice—so friendly. It's nothing like I expected, but at the same time it's exactly what I wanted. I love the food—except for the pets," she smirked. "The music has such a haunting quality. It calls to something in me that I can't express. It's hard to put it into words, but maybe like a part of my soul was missing and now is complete."

With a frustrated look on her face from her inability to say it exactly the way she wanted to, she added, "It's not exactly what I feel, but in a way it's like coming home."

I leaned over and gave her a quick kiss, which earned me that special smile of hers that told me to expect some fun in bed later.

From Cuzco, we took the train to Machu Picchu. It was a lovely ride. The train climbed an interminable number of switchbacks to climb straight up the side of the mountain and then gradually downhill to Aguas Calientes. We had a room at the top of the mountain, which turned out to be very relaxing. It was an incredible experience to sit outside early in the crisp, cold morning and view the haunting apparition of the Lost City of the Incas rising ghost-like above the ground fog. No words can describe the incredible experience of visiting this world treasure; it simply has to be experienced.

We climbed up the hill on the part of the ruins away from Hauyna Picchu and sat on a large rock. Annie's face was damp from the straggling fog, but we had climbed high enough to get above what remained of the mist. The steep peak of Hauyna Picchu rose splendidly out of the fog, brilliantly lit with the bright morning sun. Most of the ruins were still covered by the thinning fog, but a few of the ones on higher ground jutted up, giving a mysterious air to the scene.

I wrapped my arm around my love and pulled her close. It was one of those epochal moments that happen occasionally in a life spent together that marks it as a point of life before then and of life after.

"Oh Terry, it's just so incredibly beautiful. I wish time could stop right now. This moment, right now is our life and it should last forever."

She shuddered and started silently weeping, like at a funeral where you don't really know the deceased but are caught up in the moment of sadness. I felt a sudden blackness wash over me. It was like whatever the opposite of a flash of lightning would be. One moment life was perfect, the next it was a glimpse of Armageddon, the next back in the moment. A lingering blackness found a hollow place in some corner of my heart, and began to eat at me like a slow growing cancer. Later I was to remember this point with some bitterness.

Annie was scheduled to spend a week in Yungay on the northwest coast of Perú. This was a small town east of Chimbote, in the mountains. She was spending a week at a clinic. She'd asked me to go with her, but I wanted to hike the Inca trail. I thought it would be fun and maybe I could write an article for a travel magazine from the experience. We would meet at Iquitos, on the Amazon, to be met by someone from the Flying Doctors.

We spent a day walking around Cuzco, just taking it easy. Later, in our room, we sat down to talk. I wanted to hear her thoughts on how she felt, and what the future might hold.

"Terry, I'm happier than I've ever been. I was too focused on my career and lost sight of our life together. It's been hard, but I love you more than ever for being my rock and leading me home to you."

"What about this volunteer work? Are you okay with it?"

"Oh, yes. It's so rewarding. I feel so much pain with the things I see, but I balance that with what little I can do to help out. I'm excited about going to the clinic at Yungay. Health care there is really primitive but we will have a portable operating theater. Someone came up with a grant for the hospital in Chimbote in to perform follow up care.

"Terry, it's like that song from a few years ago, "Storms Never Last." Remember it was by Jessi Coulter and Waylon Jennings. I think it went like this."

"Storms never last do they baby
Bad times all pass with the wind
Your hand in mine stills the thunder
And you make the sun want to shine."

She sang that in her soft, sweet voice and, as I thought about it I realized the essential truth. Bad things happen and life goes on. It's up to us to learn to deal with that. We can fight life or we can embrace it.

We talked for a while longer and went to bed. We shared our love, quietly but with fulfillment, and fell asleep with our bodies intertwined.

The next morning I went in a taxi with Annie to the airport, saw her off, and then came back to the hotel for breakfast. I checked out, leaving my bags with the staff, and met my guide for the trek. This was a Wednesday morning and we would arrive at Machu Picchu sometime Sunday around mid-morning. We rode on a bus to Ollantaytambo then started the hike. It was a great experience. We passed through a number of ruins and saw some spectacular scenery. The hike itself was moderately arduous, but I had no problem, outside of an annoying blister. The tour leaders provided hot food and tents so it wasn't too uncomfortable.

Saturday night we stayed at the Trekkers Hostal, not an experience I would like to repeat. It was more or less clean but very crowded. Sunday morning started bright and Sunny with a short one-and-a-half hour trip. I had a reservation for a hotel at the bottom of the mountain, in Aguas Calientes. I wanted to get a hot shower as soon as I could. We arrived at Machu Picchu around eight-thirty and I jumped on a bus down the sharply switch-backed road to the hotel. I checked in, took my shower and went down for breakfast. As I passed through the lobby I saw people standing around the TV. I felt a chill on the back of my neck and broke out in goose bumps.

I edged up so I could see and they were talking about an earthquake in Ancash Province. It was a major quake and they were talking about many deaths in the mountains. They didn't know much but they showed a map with Yungay right in the middle of it. Details were skimpy, but as I watched over the next half-hour they had the film from an overflying plane. It showed a river of mud where the town was supposed to be with the tops of a few palm trees sticking up. My stomach clenched and I dashed into the restroom and surrendered the meager breakfast I'd eaten at the Hostal.

No one knew anything but I knew it was bad. I couldn't do anything so I talked to the travel agent at the hotel and she was able to get me on the first train back to Cuzco and a plane back to Lima. I arrived in Lima, sick at heart, exhausted, and frantic.

(To be continued with Part 2)