Funny Moments on the Trek to Machu Picchu

My trekking group consisted of nine, generally very cool people who took the 4 day Inca Jungle Trek to Machu Picchu. In reality, your odds of coming up snake-eyes in this regard are low, as it's a self selecting group of adventurers, and of course, when you have me in the mix, it leads to some humorous moments along the road.

That's why you Itch, Dude-- Now, one thing Peru has in abundance, even more so in the lowlands, are mosquitoes. A number of us had bitten close to the rivers on our long hike, so I asked Peter, a 50 something Aussie who had just finished a 3 week stint in the jungles of Ecuador before joining our trek, about his experience with the malevolent pests in Ecuador.
"Stupid buggers are everywhere. I actually bought shirts and pants pre-covered in DEET (the active ingredient in mosquito repellent) and there was nothing I could do to keep them off me. They just kept coming in waves."
"Ouch, alright wow. Well, let's keep the door closed tonight."
"I'm one step ahead of you," replies Peter with a wink, "God I hate those mozzie buggers."
An hour later, I go to our room at the hostel, and there Peter is, all alone, both his hands ferociously raking each of his legs at the same time, an agitated look on his face, the price for his jungle excursion, except for, the DOOR IS WIDE OPEN.
Did you sleep outside the mosquito nets in the jungle Pete?

me and my trekking group- finally at Machu Picchu-
Aussie Pete is on the far left. 

Knifie Spoonie- So, I told you that story, in part to tell you this one.
I had an idea for a skit, referencing the original Crocodile Dundee when a mugger pulls out a small blade and Dundee looks whimsically at it, and responds, "You call that a knife?" then pulls out a much larger hunting knife and explains, "This is a knife."

So, having Pete, a real live Aussie, the skit was scripted as such:
I improv something about cutting through Peruvian food.
Peter: "You call that a knife? This is a knife!"
Only he's holding a spoon. I look at it stupefied for a moment.
Me: "That's not a knife, that's a spoon."
Peter: "All right all right you win, I see you've played knifie-spoonie before."
A beat.
Me: "I think I hear a dingo eating your baby."

So, you can see in the video below what it's like for a director to deal with an absolutely incompetent actor. I had a second camera filming Peter, but decided it wasn't worth editing in, as my reactions to his floundering are way more humorous.
Australia was once a British penal colony. Today's Aussies are descended from this gene pool. Is it random I'm mentioning this?

Video: the Knifie-Spoonie skit, leaps, and lands squarely on its head

USA! USA! USA!!!: Joined by another group on the same trek, we're playing drinking games on the second evening, lead by some fun loving Irish blokes, who, when it comes to alcohol, are in their element like dolphins are in water.
Each time it was my turn to drink, as the only American of both groups, they would all start chanting, "USA! USA! USA! USA!! ..." Playing along, I proudly raise my glass to the sky, acknowledging their chants, which I viewed as an act of submission to the country which reigns supreme. It was all meant in fun, and we had a great evening, though, the dolphins consumed a heck of a lot more water than I did.
The next morning before our zip-lining expedition, once again the Irish start their "USA!" chant. Again, I acknowledge! Watch below.

 

Blind Man Locates Toilet- The closest town to Machu Picchu is Aguas Calientes and we arrive there in the middle of multi-day power outage. Four men have gone to bed by candle light, slightly before midnight, in a windowless room with all alarms set for 4 AM hoping to be the first trekkers through Machu's gates at its 6 AM opening, in an effort to appease the more anxious members of our group, who believed there would be "no good photo opportunities" as more tourists flow in.

Plaza de Armas in Aguas Calientes

So, we're all asleep, and I awaken needing to use the bathroom. There is zero light in our room, it's pitch dark, I couldn't make out a shape if you placed it an inch in front of my face.
So, I rise from my bed, unsure as to which way to go. Immediately I trip over an unseen backpack (my own,) landing smack on the legs of one my dormant friends, who gurgles in his deep sleep as I push my way back upright, then take another step, rolling my ankle on a water bottle, bouncing on one leg in pain, trying not cry out and wake everyone.
A snail would leave me in the dust at the rate I'm going, ouch, just ran into a bed that was jutting out further than the others.
Now I'm doing the baby-step shuffle. My velocity is further hampered by forward momentum being converted into dance form in an attempt to prevent my bladder from exploding; bladder racing against blindness, and it's not looking good for me.
My toes offer me my best line of sight, communicating back to me the obstacles on the floor, a kinesthetic version of submarine sonar. Unfortunately sonar does not equate to GPS, I smack straight into a wall, the wrong wall; I've been going the wrong way.
Turn around, running out of time I advance ... slowly ... hopefully, in direction of the bathroom this time. I'm not going to disclose whether the submarine sprung a leak or not before making it to base.

The Blarney Stone - Finally having made it to Machu Picchu, we're walking to our next exhibit when someone notes how much of the ancient city is roped off.
"A couple was caught carving their initials into the stone, and the government felt like they had no choice but to make it harder for people to graffiti," explains our guide.
For whatever reason, I think of Sweden and the amazing civic responsibility ingrained in the culture. "Definitely not Swedish," I state out-loud.
One of my Irish USA chanting friends overhears me. "Probably American," he jabs.
My immediate gut feeling- 'he's probably right.' Still, I just could't let his comment go without a retort.
"Probably Irish."
"Definitely not Irish," he states honestly.
"Isn't it it Irish tradition to get drunk on your birthday and go throw up on the Blarney Stone with all your friends cheering you on?"
"No," he calmly replies.
"Too hard to get to all the way at the top of the castle?"
"Exactly."
Just some fun banter along the trail.

Elephant Trekking, Pooping, and Washing on Koh Chang Island, Thailand

Speeding on my scooter down the island's main road, I catch sight of the sign: "Elephant Camp --->";  U-Turn, then left as directed by the arrow; the forest becoming thicker as I zip down the road.
An elephant meanders around to my left. I park my bike, and walk carefully, watching the ground to make sure I don't step on snakes or giant shits (not sure which would be worse.)
I sign-up for the trek, and a short while later am atop an elephant who introduces herself as Ellen. A mahut mounts her, riding on her neck, barking instructions in Thai, while I ride on a wide chair strapped to the Ellen's back.
Ten minutes later the mahut disembarks to clear some stuff off the ground. "Can I switch places with you," I ask.
"Huh?"
"You know, ride on neck like you do," I gesture, waving arms.
"Dangerous," comes the reply.
"Can I?"

the Thai jungle- how'd you like to see us coming around the corner?

He chuckles. "Be careful."
My elation quickly subsides when I realize I'm 10 feet off the ground aboard a moving beast. Gingerly I climb over the chair's railing, placing a foot on Ellen's shoulder.
"Easy Ellen, eeeassssyyyy," I coax her.
Holding onto the seat, I throw my other leg over, and gently plop down on her neck, adjusting my position until both Ellen I feel comfortable (she told me.)
Mahut smiles at me, then yells in Thai for Ellen to move. We plod through the forest, each step testing my balance as I hold dearly onto her skin, coiling my legs around her attempting to stay clear from gravity's clutches.

Introducing you to Ellen Elephant- I never said I was a great speller :)  

Ten minutes later the lead elephant becomes excited and speeds up. Ellen following suit, and suddenly we're running the equivalent of a human sprint, and let me tell you, I'm hanging on for dear life, at the same time enjoying the thrill of riding bareback on a galloping elephant. My mahut races beside us, yelling at Ellen, who thankfully calms, and goes back to her plodding walk.

got the hang of it, look ma, no hands

As we prepare to cross a stream my improperly secured backpack falls from the chair and onto the ground. Watch the video below to see how I got it back-   

Ellen Elephant picks up my back-up, hands it to me, and sprays the mahut

We soon arrive at a river. A slow current drains a large pool of water downstream. Ellen almost dances in, submerges herself, her trunk behaving like a periscope occasionally rising to breathe. My mahut tosses me a brush, I begin scrubbing her rough skin, removing both parasites and dirt from skin. She seems to understand I'm helping her, and I take pleasure in that connection, that bond, with this huge animal. She might not know how to thank me, her vocabulary being limited and all, but she doesn't have to, we've enhanced each others lives.

Love, it's what makes the world go round.   

Scrubbing down Ellen, part I

Ellen poops in the river. My reaction. 

Why you need an elephant as a member of the family! 

Feeding my Ellen the Elephant for a job well done

Post scrub down discussion

In Search of the Mythical Soviet Unicorn- fun in St. Petersburg

Flags fly high above goverment building

Highlights from my last visit to Russia included getting ripped off purchasing a train ticket and my brother's fiancee being nearly kidnapped. I imagine such a tourist experience, not untypical.

Don't get me wrong, it's not that I think Ruskies are inherently bad people, it's that their political systems and leaders have stifled basic freedoms, motivation, opportunity, and joy to the point that not only Russia, but all former Soviet Bloc countries suffer from what I call "The Hangover of Communism."
So when my dear friend St. Peter, whom St. Petersburg was named after (I looked up his claim, it's true) invited me to visit, he had his hands full in the persuasion department.
Shocked that I wouldn't succumb to a bribe (unheard of in his country,) Peter changed tactics as fluidly as Kasparov on a chess board. Playing upon my sensibilities as a dreamer, he promised me the chance of being the first Westerner to capture video evidence of the mythical Soviet Unicorn; otherwise known as a Smiling Russian.

St. Petersburg Airport
Frantically searching for my bag I finally locate it on the wrong carousel. I exit the terminal to find my gracious host wringing his hands, not because this prominent businessman wasted an hour of his valuable time, but rather because he feared my latest visit to his country would be greatly colored by this first event.

On the road we see a statue of Vladamir Lenin; I helpfully suggest we return after sundown to chop off the head. Peter pulls the car over.
Carefully and measuredly he explains, "Now Richie, you've teased me mercilessly the last few years for my choice of birth country, and a lot of what you say might be true, but it's polarizing and unhelpful. Russia has far far more than what you're focusing on. Please, please Richie, try to have an open mind."
He then shoves me out of the car at gunpoint and forces me to eat the proverbial Russian "apple of knowledge." Event shown in below video.

Eating the Russian Apple of Knowledge- penance for my anti-Ruskie views

The Truth

family portrait: St. Peter, Mischievous Aliska, Super Saint Olya, yours truly

I'm reunited with Peter's family, his wife Olya, and his confident and fun loving four year old daughter Aliska. They are warm, caring, kind, and fortunately for me, as promised, St. Peter is determined to show me the best of what Russia has to offer.
While there is traffic here as in any metropolis, we enjoy the ride teasing each other and playing games as a family on the way (yes, I felt like a member)
We enjoy our time at the local amusement park, go-cart racing, indoor sky-diving, and visiting Petrhof Palace. In the evening it's dinners, chats, and runs around the neighborhood. I can't deny it  ... "I had a great time."  (there, I said it Pete, willingly. I had a great time in St. Petersburg. Happy?)

check out the catapult ride Peter, myself, and friends went on and our reactions

Dancing in the amusement park to MC Hammer with the kids

at the Go-Cart track

along the canal

To boot, Peter's friends were generally warm and happy. They're also rather well to do, and I believe there is a strong correlation between these two facts as most Russians slave away for little reward financially or otherwise. In Putin's Russia, wealth is concentrated at the top, generally amongst those with political connections.
That said, to merely call the journey a "success" is an understatement, as, though exceedingly rare, I can confirm the existence of the Russian Unicorn, and I thank my host profusely for evidence this long hoped for scenario could in fact exist in reality. And though I can never again describe Russia as "hell," my dear St. Peter, it will be a long time before I describe the city gates you've so graciously held open for me as "pearly."
But being with your family was a little slice of heaven.   

St. Peter, Olya, and Rich ready to hit the air tunnel