Cusco to Machu Picchu

The ultimate objective for my trip to Peru was to get to Machu Picchu. Thus, Lima was just a detour before heading to Cusco, Peru and eventually Aguas Calientes via a four hour train ride on Peru Rail. All of these logistical costs were arranged and reserved prior to travel, with the exception of our actual entrance tickets to Machu Picchu and Huayna Picchu. These tickets, which cost about $150 each, are only purchasable either at the Ministerio de Cultura offices, located in Cusco and Aguas Calientes, or the Peruvian government website. The website at the time could not be accessed in the United States due to payment fraud and terrorist financing activities. Therefore, my sole responsibility while in Bogota was to purchase these tickets.

Traditional Peruvian clothing

About two weeks before leaving Bogota, I went onto the Peruvian government website, reserved the tickets to Machu Picchu park, as well as the tickets to Huayna Picchu, which is the large, intimidating mountain in the background of all famous Machu Picchu pictures. After reserving the tickets, there is a payment area on the website. You are required to enter your reservation code and purchase tickets within six days of your initial reservation. Just to be on the safe side, I decided to buy the tickets right after I made the reservation. I put in my code for the Macchu Picchu tickets and proceeded to enter my payment information. For Machu Picchu park entrance, including museum entrance, the cost is $152 per person (excluding museum access, the cost for a single adult entrance ticket is $150). For a pass to climb Huayna Picchu, at either 7-8am, or 10-11 am, the cost is $150 per person. Once I put in my code, I was taken to another page where it asked for my credit card information and upon entering it, I was taken to the next screen which appeared to be this confirmation. I wrote down the code. However, after a few days went buy I realized the money was never taken from my account. Therefore, as soon as we arrived in Cusco on the Monday, the 19th, we checked into our hotel called El Virrey, and inquired with our hotel clerk. She said we would have to go the the Ministerio de Cultura office, as she did not see a record attached to the confirmation number I was given. This made me very nervous because Machu Picchu park only allows 1,600 visitors per day and Huayna Picchu limits the access to 200 per time slot, which is only 400 people per day. We were leaving the next morning for Machu Picchu and still did not have tickets after many fruitful attempts.

Plaza de Armas

After leaving our hotel, we grabbed a quick bite overlooking the Plaza de Armas. We later jumped in a cab, which is very easy to do in Cusco since they are all over, and headed to the cultural center. I was helped by a clerk right when I entered and she told me that there was no reservation under my confirmation number, name, or passport despite the confirmation code I was given. She listened to my story regarding my failed attempts to buy in Colombia and got her supervisor to help. The supervisor told us that we could purchase entrance tickets to Machu Picchu park the following day (we were to arrive there around 1 PM) as the 1,600 maximum capacity  had not yet been reached. However, she stated that the Huayna Picchu tickets were at capacity for both time slots that were available. As mentioned, only 200 people are allowed in each time slot. From there, my negotiation tactics, persistence, and years of fake crying experience ensued. I showed my confirmation, explained the many difficulties we experienced, told the supervisor that we only had one day to go, sobbed about the fact we travelled from the United States with the goal of climbing Huayna Picchu, and tried many other tactics, many of which I am not going to share. She told me there was nothing they could do but that I could come back at 6 pm, before closing, to see if any of the reservations didn't come by to pick up their tickets.

Centro Artesanal Cusco

I left the cultural center feeling very deflated. I felt like I failed The Don, as he had planned every flight and hotel and my only duty was to book these tickets. We left silently, both secretly hoping that we would get lucky. From there, I spent entirely too much money buying Peruvian traditional artwork, clothing, and souvenirs at a large, indoor shopping district called Centro Artesanal Cusco that had hundreds of individual stands or stalls set up for each artist. This shopping center was the Plaza de San Blas or Plaza of Armas, where most of the touristy shops were overpriced and overpopulated. Centro Artesanal Cusco, located at the end of Avenida El Sol, across from the large painted waterfall fountain and the Hotel Savoy, is the largest indoor market of handicrafts stalls in Cusco, and many goods are slightly cheaper than they are closer to the plaza. I spent over 3 hours and an unknown amount of money buying gifts here before grabbing a cab back to the cultural center.

When we got back to the center, the woman working told me there was still time for the unreserved tickets to be purchased and asked me to sit and wait. We hesitantly sat and watched as people trickled in, praying and practically intimidating people from purchasing last few reserved yet unpaid tickets. As each second passed, I grew more and more anxious. I thought surely one of the ten or so people that came through the doors were the owners of the tickets we so desperately sought. At 6:30 pm, not a second before closing, the supervisor nodded for me to come over to her desk. She smiled as she handed me the last tickets for Huayna Picchu on the only day we were able to go. I leaped, jumped, squealed, twirled, and screamed as I ran over to the payment counter. I also gave her a small change purse that I had just purchased at the market. We were the last ones out of the office and had been on our feet the entire day. Not only did we have the airport fiasco (outlined in my last post) but the Huanya Picchu tickets added to my general belief that nothing is certain in Peru and everything can be achieved with persistence, a few fibs, fake tears, and some Spanish speaking.


We got tickets!!!



We ended our night eating Alpaca at the Inka Grill, an upscale restaurant on the Plaza de Armas. Our train was to depart Poroy, a station twenty minutes from Cusco, at 8:30 am. The ticket said that we needed to be there 30 minutes prior to departure and we were only allowed to bring a bag that weighed less than 5 kilograms, or about 10 lbs! As such, we repacked our bags into smaller backpacks, checked our suitcases, and left the hotel before 7 am to insure we got there by 8. Turns out, the Poroy station is actually only 15 minutes from Cusco (not 30-40 minutes as quoted at the Peru Rail office). Since we got there so early, we asked our cab driver if he knew where we could eat a bite before catching out train. He drove us up to a home on the side of the train station which was attached to a "restaurant". As we walked in, a pregnant very sick looking dog greeted us, along with a young mother, and her even younger daughter. They only served one dish at this restaurant. I am still not sure what it was. It appeared to be soup with a full bird floating in it. I asked if it was chicken and the young girl said no. I didn't want to offend the kind family that brought us the only item on the menu, so I decided I would put my stomach in jeopardy. However, I must say, this was exactly the type of food and restaurant that your doctor warns you about. I was almost certain I would get some form of food poisoning and/or stomach virus. The Don adamantly refused to eat and continually warned me that I would get sick. I had a few sips of the broth, and flung most of the large, foreign bird floating in it at the pregnant dog staring up at me. We left shortly there after.



Food poisoning before 8 am



Pregant pup



  

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

   

Jerk found food!

As soon as we arrived at the Peru Rail station, a large, modern cafe stared at us with croissants, fresh lattes, fruit, refrigerators stocked with drinks, counter tops full of snacks, and even gum. The Don found great joy in that. Jerk. Also, we noticed that 90% of the passengers had not yet arrived even though we were strictly warned to be there by 8. Lastly, as people trickled in, we realized no one else heard of the weight limitation as they pulled their gigantic suitcases behind them. Travel Tip: For any of you going to Machu Picchu on Peru Rail, you do not need to be there thirty minutes before departure, can purchase food at the train stations, and your bags do not need to be under a certain weight, as specified on the ticket.

We left the train station on time, at 8:30 am, seating in the first train (train A) in seats A7 and A8. These were great seats but the best on the entire train were A1 and A2. I am not sure if these can be reserved in advance since we were not given the option to select seats, but if you are taking the train, try to push for these seats. They were at the very front of the train, were surrounded by windows, and had a completely clear, unobstructed view of the journey. The train ride was a highlight of my trip from Cusco to Machu Picchu. Seeing the Peruvian country side from this vantage point gave me an unique view of the country, its inhabitants, and the terrain. I was also able to take a lot of pictures.

Once we began following a river between large mountains, I knew we were getting close to Aguas Calientes, the small town next to Machu Picchu, home to most of the hotels in the area, with the exception of a swanky hotel that is outside the park entrance and costs $1000/night. We arrived at 12 pm, dropped off our bags, and headed to the bus station, ready to head up to Machu Picchu park. What unfolded over the next two days in Machu Picchu and Huayna Picchu were no short of life-changing and I am fairly certain I will forever be a different person because of them. My next entry will discuss in depth some of the highlights of my experience at Machu Picchu. Stay tuned....

Me encanta Bogotá

Three prescriptions, two shots of medication, five ajiaco soups, ten glasses of tea, and eight liters of water later, I was able to emerge from my bed in order to go to work on Friday morning. By midday I was feeling much better as I waited eagerly for my first visitor here in Bogota. Daryl (aka Day) landed at 7:30 pm. I got a ride from Juan Carlos and we waited outside the exit doors of Bogota's new international terminal. The airport opened less than a month ago and is very modern with a glass exterior which made it very easy to spot Day.

We spent Friday night eating pizza and watching Taken 2. On Saturday morning, we ate a wonderful breakfast at the hotel, took some pictures on the roof of my building, and got picked up by Juan Carlos for a tour of Centro Bogota. On the drive there, we took Carrera Septima, one of the major roads here in the northern part of the city. Juan Carlos pointed out a church at the top of the mountain, which could be accessed by an aerial tram or by foot. We passed through the financial district of the city, where my office is located, before entering the youthful, university filled district. This part of northern Bogota is full of artsy, bohemian students sitting on top of graffiti painted walls eating lunches, and mismatched, bright, colorful buildings. We continued on and upon entering Centro Bogota, it was obvious that we were in a very historical part of the city. The streets were packed with pedestrians and there were various signs pointing to the homes of famous Colombia artists, extremely baroque cathedrals, and even an entire museum full of art made of gold called Museo de Oro. 

Interior of church

Exterior of church

After parking, we proceeded down a street that possessed the same feeling as Haight-Ashbury. There were artists selling unique paintings, colorful clothing, and hand-made jewelry. The streets were cobblestone and the buildings were extremely antique. We walked about three long blocks downhill until entering the grand Centro plaza which was full of kids playing, lamas, a gigantic Christmas tree, lights, and hundreds of locals and tourists alike. It was a site to be seen. Bordering the plaza was the Catedral Primada de Colombia, as well as various museums, theaters, and historical buildings. Juan Carlos walked with us and gave us some historical insight before we entered the Cathedral. A service was being held inside but we were able to enter the eighty foot doors leading inside. The ceilings were extremely tall with wood beams, decadent crown molding, and beautiful arches. Day and I took some pictures of the building and we continued on.

While walking along the plaza, we were asked to step off the sidewalk when we got closer to the home of the president, currently occupied by Juan Manuel Santos. Judging by Juan Carlos's response, along with other coworkers' opinions, the current president is accepted by the residents of Colombia but not loved. According to my sources, he has done a great job improving foreign relations, increasing trade partners, and mastering political relationships. However, when elected in 2010, he promised to focus on internal administration efforts and to reduce corruption here in Colombia, which has not been his focus as of late. Prior to the current president, Alvaro Uribe was president from 2002-2010, and he did an excellent job cleaning up Bogota, hiring thousands of police to ensure safety, and cracking down on the notorious violence in Colombia. As such, he was very popular among citizens. In fact, in 2008, his approval rating reached an unprecedented rate of 91%. However, after six years as president, in 2009, stories of corruption were leaked and his approval rate plummeted before leaving office in 2010. I was very appreciative of this brief history of the past two Colombian presidents, as it coincided with our own political elections. Ironically enough, in 2008, during the last US presidential election, I happened to be living in Chile (call it coincidence, genius, or pure luck...). Although the 2008 election was more of a celebration of Bush leaving office, as he eliminated many of the free trade laws with Chile during his presidency. During both of these presidential races, it was inspiring but also a bit uncomfortable to witness the overwhelming impact our election has on the citizens of Colombia and Chile, alike. This past week, nearly every magazine and news channel was almost entirely focused on the race, and I was asked up to ten times by various Colombians for my opinion on the election. The publicity and focus on our election is just one example of the significant influence the United States has on nearly every country around the world, including those located in South America. We have the power and influence to impact many lives, lives of people that we often do not realize are stakeholders. I hope every citizen of US, especially those with significant influence and authority, will begin to consider how their actions will affect the lives of people in every corner of the world. I know I will.


Anyways, enough about politics and back to Bogotá....

On the walk back to the car, we stopped for food at a traditional Colombian restaurant which was so old that it was almost too small for Day. In fact, he hasn't been able to fit just about anywhere in this country. Despite the low ceilings and tiny tables, we had a great meal. Here in Colombia, it is socially unacceptable for people that are on the clock to eat with their employers. As a result, Juan Carlos initially refused to sit with us and sat at a different table. Even though he was giving us a city tour on this particular day, I found it very silly, as he was now a friend of mine. I convinced Juan Carlos to sit with us and we had a wonderful lunch. We left Centro shortly there after for the hotel to rest. Around dinner time, Ana and Sebas came by. Ana and I cooked pasta, chorizo, and a salad while the guys played Sebas's xbox that he brought over. I found it endearing that Sebas wanted to be sure they had something to do together since the language barrier made him nervous. They ended up getting along very well and we had to literally strip their game controlers from their hands. Turns out Street Fighter II is a universal man language. Later that night, we went to a night club by the name of Bendito Bar, where Ana's good friend was the DJ. The music was mostly electronic, salsa, and some pop music. Although I felt awkward dancing to such drastically different genres of music compared to what I am accustom to, the club's extravagant light show, laser beams, and foam and fake smoke falling from the ceiling, made the entire experience very enjoyable.

Sunday was spent at the Mercado de las Plugas, a flee market near my apartment that is held on Sundays (and in this case Monday as well because it was a three day holiday weekend). There are three other markets similar to this one around Bogota but I was told this one, located in Usaquen, is the nicest due to its location. Usaquen is a thriving neighborhood, located behind the Centro Commercial de Santa Barbara, the shopping mall of the district of Santa Barbara, which is walking distance from my apartment. We weren't quite sure where we were going, as Day and I were solo on foot, but we knew we were in the right place when we turned a random corner and located a quaint plaza surrounded by great restaurants, as well as blocked off streets full of families, tents set up with art for sale, and great smelling food. While shopping, we met a man dressed in traditional Caribbean clothing who told us about a reggae club on Carrera Septima called Congo. We thanked him and continued on our way. Day and I had an amazing time at the market...so much so that we debated returning the next day!

Making police blush

After leaving the market, we went to back to the room, ordered food, and got ready for a night out. When we arrived at the address, we found that Congo was closed for construction but we stumbled upon Mr. Reggae next door. This nightclub was entirely different from the one that we went to the night before; it was very small on the second story of a cozy, eclectic building and was much more laid back, with music we were familiar with, and a crowd dressed in jeans and comfortable shoes. We danced, laughed, and soaked in the sounds of reggae into early in the morning. We also posed for various pictures request by people that honestly thought we were famous. I am becoming professional at pretending that I am a basketball wife. 

Day left Wednesday morning and although I was sad to see him go, I was so very thankful that he came to visit me. We were able to explore new parts of the city that I was apprehensive to go to alone (clubs, Centro, shopping markets, etc.). I fell even more in love with Bogotá and its bohemian yet polished, artistic yet defined, and antique yet  industrialized pockets scattered throughout the city.

 

Colombian Hospital

Not sure if it was the water in Cartagena, the heavy food in Bogotá, or a combination of the two, but I got very sick on Tuesday of last week, after returning from the coast. I had very strong pains in my stomach and food poisoning. I left work early on Wednesday and as time progressed, I became very dehydrated which led to a terrible headache. Since it was my second to last week here in Bogota, I did not want to miss work and attempted to go into the office Thursday morning. Apparently, I wasn't looking too hot because Claudia, the head of HR, told her assistant, Lorena, to take me to the hospital clinic. You may wonder why I am telling you this. Well, it would be remiss if I left out one of the greatest adventures of my trip, which was my experience at a Colombian hospital.

Lorena and I left the office around 9 am for one of the few hospitals in northern Bogota. I was hesitant and felt as though it was a bit dramatic to go to a hospital. However, I am known to have a high pain tolerance and once had pneumonia when I thought it was just a cold. I figured I should avoid a similar situation. Once we checked in at the hospital, I waited about thirty minutes before realizing that a nurse had been calling my name over ten times. Here in Colombia, residents have two last names (father's last name, followed by mother's maiden name). When they took my information from my passport, they thought my middle name was actually my common last name and, therefore, were calling for "McNair Brooks", which sounded more like "MEE-GNAR BOOK-REYS". I laughed with the nurse and she took me back to take my temperature, ask me questions about my symptoms, and perform a small exam of my stomach by pressing on various organs. Not sure if I understood or answered any of her inquiries correctly. I later got called back to have my blood drawn and other tests run by the cutest little nurse. She also gave me a bag with two small containers in it and I think she told me to wait in the front with them. About 10 minutes later, I was called into a third room where I was given Pedialite-ish liquid by two young medical technicians. I thought the female technician told me to finish it so I began chugging the bottle before she grabbed it and told me I was to drink 500 ml twice a day. Before this experience, I was beginning to feel nearly fluent in Spanish. However, that was up until I was presented with medical terms and the metric system. I literally made out about 1 in every ten sentences, and had close to no idea what anyone was saying at the hospital. The male technician then told me to lay down, which I did. He started laughing and told me to lay on my stomach. Before I knew it, I got two shots in my rear end and was told to wait in the lobby again and that it would take 90 minutes for the results of the blood tests to come back.

Lorena, who was not allowed to enter the various testing rooms with me due to their small size, had been waiting in the lobby with close to 70 sick people. By this time, we had been at the hospital for a little over an hour. Not bad at all. However, since it would take 90 minutes to receive the results, we decided to go to the cafeteria to avoid the germ-ville lobby. We returned on time and eagerly awaited the results; not only was I feeling sick, but more importantly, I needed to escape the germs, the woman that was crying, the man slumped over with bloodshot eyes, the kid with the very displaced broken finger, and the guy with blood on his side, soaking his shirt. I kept thinking that if this was the United States, the hospital would not have as many sick people in one area (there over 8 million people in Bogota and this hospital was the only one in the northern part of the city), but would also not move as quickly as this Colombian hospital. I was pretty sure I would be in and out in under three hours which is incredible compared to the emergency rooms at home.

Lorena and I waited as the 90 minute mark passed, then 2 hours passed, and we still had not heard my name called with the results. I am a bit impatient. Actually, by "bit", I mean "very". I asked Lorena if she could enter the hospital doors and politely ask what was holding us up. I didn't want to miss my name being called again. When she came back through the double doors, she was laughing. She told me that the first nurse, the one that gave the the bag with two small containers, had actually been waiting for me to give her a a sample of my #1 and #2. I will leave that part to your imagination. The doctor said that they had the blood results but thought that I would be bringing them the executed containers once I was able to do so. I began laughing hysterically along with Lorena. Not because I was embarrassed, but because had we not asked, we could have waited until 2054 due to this misunderstanding. The exams were optional and I politely declined. The doctor then told me that my blood results were perfect and notified me that the water in Cartagena often makes people sick and that the symptoms take a couple of days to present themselves. I told her that I only drank water from water bottles but she retorted that even brushing your teeth can expose you to this stomach virus. I thought I was being careful enough, practicing the same discipline as my many trips to Mexico, but I was naive and did not avoid water at all costs.

I was given a list of medications and we went to the cashier to pay. I had to pay out of pocket, as my travel insurance reimburses after the fact. I was surprised to see that without insurance the total cost of the the hospital visit, shots, blood work, and laboratory results came to under 200,000 pesos, or a little over $100. Again, without insurance. I believe that is how much I pay with insurance to visit an emergency room. Although the overall experience was more comical than traumatic, I was still a bit under the weather and was very happy to leave the hospital and its sick inhabitants. That said, I must say, I was impressed with the efficiency, affordability, cleanliness, and treatment options at the Colombia hospital.

I got a ride home and when I arrived, the receptionist at my hotel, Felipe, offered to call to have the prescriptions delivered and called to order me some food. In Bogota, everything can be delivered. Literally, everything, including a successful industry of manicurists that come and do your nails in the house. When the food arrived, my life was changed. I kid you not. There is a famous soup called "Ajiaco". It is god-sent. The main ingredients are potatoes, shredded chicken, and corn. Although it sounds simple, it single-handedly brought my back to life. It was so delicious that I also ate it for dinner on Thursday, as well as lunch on Friday, when a small group of my favorite coworkers went out to celebrate Patricia's birthday. If you ever have the chance to come to Colombia, keep in mind that hospitals are very clean, sterile, and affordable, and that Ajiaco is the best soup in the entire world.

Ajiaco

I left my heart in Cartagena

After two very informative, busy, exciting days with the Opportunity International office, I looked forward to a couple days off in order to explore the beautiful, tropical city of Cartagena, Colombia. I spent Friday evening eating arepas in a hammock on my porch. I went to sleep early in eager anticipation of a full day in the Islas de Rosario.

Before departing my hotel on Saturday morning, I ate a banana, soaked in the warm, tropical heat, and threw on a bathing suit. I later jumped in a cab for the main boat harbor where I paid about $40 for a full day on a private boat, which carried about 15 people. This also included lunch, snorkeling, and a tour of about five islands, with the climatic final destination being the famous Playa Blanca. Our boat departed from the city's main docks, located in the Centro, at about 9 am. It was very fast and followed the coastline, allowing me an excellent view of the antique buildings and colonial ruins that border the entire city of Cartagena. I learned that Cartagena was founded in 1533 by a Spanish commander by the name of Pedro de Heredia. In the years following, as a result of the city's ideal location between the Carribean islands, South America, and North America, many pirates attacked trying to overthrow the city. As a result, during the 17th century,  the Spanish Crown hired the services of prominent European military engineers to carry out the construction of fortresses, which are nowadays one of Cartagena's clearest signs of identity. Many of these engineering works took well over 208 years to build, and ended with some eleven kilometers of walls surrounding the city (pictured below). Many of these coastal walls and colonial structures are much older than the United States.

 

Thank you Bogota for welcoming me with open arms!

Bye Bye San Francisco!

I left San Francisco yesterday at six in the morning and landed in Bogota at 7:15 pm, local time. During my first flight from San Francisco to San Salvador, El Salvador, I met Francisco, a 50 year old father and buyer of electrical equipment who lives in Bogota with his daughter, two sons, and wife. He did not speak any English which gave me the opportunity to practice my Spanish. Francisco was very kind but not overbearing. This made the six hour flight very enjoyable (to me, there is nothing worse than someone that won't get the hint and stop talking even after you put your headphones on and/or bury yourself in a book). He shared with me various tips for traveling, some local knowledge of restaurants and music, and gave me a better feel for the area I will be living.

San Salvador

I must say, South American airlines - or any non-US airlines for that matter - are doing something right. My first flight was on Taca and the second was on Avianca*. During my first flight, the flight attendants took pride in their appearance and you could tell their profession was a respected one; food was served and it was actually edible; every seat was equipped with its own entertainment console with movies, TV programs, games, and a map tracking our flight progression; and the seats were very comfortable. My experience on both airlines was drastically different than the numerous domestic flights I take monthly. It was similar to Virgin Air, minus the mood lighting and flight attendants that act edgier than you (I'll take that over the SW ones that sing, any day).

Upon my arrival, I was interrogated by customs for 10 minutes. I was told I needed a Visa even after explaining that I was a volunteer. I blame language barriers and the fact that the custom guard seemed to be suffering from some sort of inflated authority syndrome. After consulting with his manager, the customs guard let me through and I found Francisco, who politely told me that I was waiting at the wrong baggage claim. From there, I experienced another enjoyable cultural difference: upon leaving baggage claim, there were about 200 people waiting for their family/friends' arrivals. They held signs, sang, and were jovial. Could you imagine if that were the custom in US? Not to mention, almost every passenger was well-dressed and did not have on pajamas. Travelling in this culture is a luxury and reminded me of my childhood when travelers would wear their best clothes to fly, only to be greeted by friends and family (thanks Furr for keeping at least the latter part of that childhood memory alive).

Apartment Living Room

Finding my driver in the sea of people was a little like Where's Waldo? but after locating him, I found comfort knowing I was one step closer to being settled into the apartment I will be living in for the next five weeks. My driver waited outside even after I told him I was all set. I was greeted by the front desk clerk who grabbed my bags, checked me in, gave me 5 water bottles, ordered me take-out, and even followed the delivery man to my door to be sure I didn't overpay in pesos (one peso buys you approximately $0.000636. My pizza cost 25,000 pesos!). The people of this country are extremely friendly and do not give off the impression that they are expecting something in return. It is not a tourist driven city where you feel like you are out of place and on the verge of being chiseled out of money. It is metropolitan, diverse city and people are not rushed. Despite appearing a bit out of place and confused, genuine friendliness is the overwhelming impression I've received from the people of Bogota. I am also surprised that I have yet to meet anyone that speaks any English  For this I am actually quite grateful; I look forward to the challenge and have already caught myself thinking in Spanish.

Kitchen

I woke up this morning after sleeping for 10+ hours. It was the first time in months that I did not set an alarm.  It was a bit odd leaving a city where I have to be somewhere for various commitments (those that know me best know that I tend to over-commit) on little sleep, to waking up sans alarm, in a new city, feeling rested, where I have no stress and plenty of time to do whatever my little heart desires (nothing)....I literally woke up smiling and dancing around my apartment. Upon opening the blinds, I realized that I have a large balcony with views I have never seen. The city is built at such a high altitude that a forest full of gigantic trees juxtapose the gigantic city full of modern and antique buildings.

View of Bedroom

I was able to talk to my sister, Leigh, on Skype, who was sitting with her kids, fully decked out in Steelers attire (today is a bad day to be an Eagles fan). Nic, my youngest nephew, asked me, "Can you come to my house?", and it was a bit challenging explaining to him where I was. SO cute. I decided to take the day to lounge and get settled in. I feel prepared for my first day tomorrow at the Opportunity International office. I know it will be an experience I will never forget. It already has been. I feel so very blessed to work for a company that values volunteerism, and have managers that support my growth by enabling me five weeks to make a difference in this world.