so this is machu picchu???????

two thousand, and then some. That's the number of steps you must walk up to get to Machu Picchu. I just got back from a four day trip to the Lost City of the Incas and I hesitate to say this, but it just might have been the best weekend of my entire life.

Early Friday morning, the 6 of us (the PIBV summer consultants), hopped on a bus and began the windy and twisty journey to the top of Abra Malagra (14, 271 ft) - yes; 3, 410 feet higher than Cuzco. At every twist and turn, I was pretty sure the bus was going to topple over (probably explains why the bus driver kept playing the same four Bob Marley songs on loop). At the top, everyone was paired up with an appropriate-sized mountain bike, gloves and helmet and we proceeded to ride our bikes down the amongst the most scenic and picturesque views that I had ever seen. See above, but of course, justice cannot be done through photos. After four hours of biking down paved and occasionally gravel roads with giant buses and trucks booking it around the tight bends we ditched the bikes and hopped back on our bus that took us to our first night's rest.

After a very short and uncomfortable sleep in one of the dirtiest hostels I've ever stayed in, we were awoken at 5:30 am to begin our 9 hour/23 km hike through the rain forest, mountains and inka trail. This was one of the more grueling treks I have ever done, bringing us up and down mountains, around narrow bends, across rivers and very unstable swinging bridges. What astonished me was how I could feel so miserable yet so fortunate at the same time. At around 5 pm we arrived at the hot springs, where we were able to take the weight off for a couple hours before taking a bus to the small town of Santa Theresa.

The next morning the 6 of us went zip-lining at the highest zip line in South America, which was pretty cool needless to say. Something about soaring through the air 656 feet above the ground is fairly liberating. After an exciting morning, we walked some more, along train tracks for a couple miles or something until we arrived at Aguas Calientes, where we would rest for the night before venturing off to Machu Picchu.

3:30 AM. My alarm blares. This is it. The moment we've been thinking about all weekend. The moment I've thought about for years. We pack our bags in silence, me with a smile stretching from ear to ear in anticipation of what will be one of the most memorable moments of my life. We start walking down the pitch dark road with our flashlights leading the way. After 25 minutes of skipping and laughing down the flat road, we arrive at the first of over two thousands steps that we will have conquered in one hour's time and all smiles disappear. With our menacing opponent staring us down, we begin our ascent to the top. After about 30 steps, I come to the quick realization, as I'm panting for breath, that 2,000 steps is a lot more than you think.

500 steps later, I have no idea what I'm doing. At 1,000 steps I'm slightly delusional. At 1,500 I'm starting to realize how far we've come and how absolutely amazing this all is. And at 2,000 I can't believe what just transpired. We're waiting in line to enter the site, antsy as little school girls. The line begins to move, we pass the checkpoint, we pass the second check point and then, we arrive.

Machu Picchu is one of those places that you always hear people rave about but never know what to expect when you see it in person. I can't even imagine how much manpower and effort it took to create such an architectural masterpiece. Every stone seems strategically placed. Every shape, purposely selected. Every design, inspired by the Gods themselves. At every turn, I was more and more amazed by the scale of the Lost Incan City. Machu Picchu is situated in the clouds, making you feel as though you are literally floating across the sky. Watching the sunrise over the mountains and watching golden streams of sun flood every crevice of the city was also a sight not to be missed. Machu Pichu left me forever mesmerized, and I wish I could impart upon you the wonder that I witnessed, yet the only way to truly understand is to see if for yourself.

Blame it on the alt - alt- alt -alt -alt -titude baby

For anyone who has ever been to Denver, they have probably felt the difference in altitude. Denver is a whopping 5,281 feet above sea-level. For a comparison, New York is about 30 feet and Atlanta is less than a thousand. The magical city of Cuzco however, is a whopping 10,861 feet above sea-level. The difference between this and what most people are used to is immediately felt when you're doing every day things like walking up steps, hills or ancient Incan Ruins. Ive tried running a few times and lack of oxygen prevents you from running for more than ten seconds at a time, which makes me excited for the upcoming season when my high-altitude training should pay off immediately.

I've been here in Cuzco with Penn International Business Volunteers for a week now and I am very excited about how much we've helped the NGO that were consulting for already. I don't want to talk too much about work here, but just know that some good is actually being done.

Cuzco is a very interesting city. Reminds me of an old European city in that nothing seems to have been changed in the downtown area in centuries. The old Gothic cathedrals and cobblestone roads give it a character that most American cities miss now-a-days. Like almost all Latin American cities there's a Plaza de Armas and a huge statue of Jesus Cristo on top a hill overlooking the city with an almost comforting gaze. This past weekend, we got the opportunity to visit many of the local Incan Ruins. I'll just show pictures instead of talking about them because in a few days we will be doing Machu Picchu and well, that kind of speaks for itself.

The cusquenan people have a very distinct character; they are much more timid people than I would have ever expected. They tend to walk with their heads down and don't bother you too much, unless you're a tourist and they're trying to sell you gum, traditional clothing or bombard you with free drink tickets to come to their bar or club. The nightlife scene is an almost seamless union between Latin and Western Culture. Locals and tourists mix interchangeably in the same way a song will go from Salsa to House to Hip-Hop in a 2 minute period.

The poverty here is something I have never seen before, which is saying alot after seeing the favelas (slums) of Brazil last year. There seems to be a distinct difference between living in a slum and living in some of the rural Peruvian villages. Slums tend to be crowded, dirty and dangerous, complete with an unbreakable social code/structure and wealthy warlords and errand boys. These rural Peruvian villages however are marked by a lack of any and everything. Most homes are just four sided structures made of mud bricks, lacking running water, a stable roof and a dirt floor. This, compounded with nighttime temperatures that can reach ten below Celsius regularly and three generations of family members crammed into a single bedframe is a serious indicator of poverty. I think I'll have to come back to this subject however, because its far too much to cover in a paragraph.

If you've read this far, I congratulate you because this is my first attempt at writing a blog and I'm pretty sure it reeked of stream of consciousness.

Things to look forward to: I will be eating guinea pig in 2 hours and trekking to Machu Picchu in 2 days. To say I'm excited would be a gross underestimation.