I’m sure the weepy goodbye posts are already appearing on your Instagram. Mine is already in the drafts. Do I go for a classic “take me back” with crying emojis, the three-paragraph essay about how grateful I am for this experience, or a tasteful caption in Spanish or Quechua to express my newfound worldliness and nearly trilingual nature?
(Nearly trilingual is an exaggeration. My knowledge in Quechua, the indigenous knowledge of Peru, consists of allillanchu = hello, michi = cat, and tupananchiskama = goodbye. It’s a short conversation.)
That’s right, it’s the last week of the semester. Do not mention this fact to any WorldStrides student unless you’re ready to be met with teary eyes and a long discussion of their favorite memories from their time abroad. Anyway, here’s mine.
Chinchero
At the conclusion of the first week of Quechua class, our instructor insisted that we were ready to take on the outside world, so we drove to Chinchero to practice speaking with an Indigenous family.
We started walking from the city center, thinking the family in question was just down the road. We passed alpacas and Incan ruins. We fell prey to a family selling handmade bracelets. We kept walking.
Hey, profe, we said, how much farther do we reckon it is?
Diez minutos, he assured us. Ten minutes.
And then we walked up a mountain. We were wheezing within minutes. Cusco is over 11,000 feet above sea level, and we were new to the altitude! We hadn’t had lunch! One of my friends was wearing jeans and a turtleneck!
When we rounded the corner, the world opened up. I had never seen so much green. For miles, there was nothing but mountains. I was distinctly grateful that I had chosen Cusco instead of one of the urban centers on my list—I’ve lived in cities all my life, but I had never seen anything like this.
We walked for five hours, pausing every few steps to pull thin air into our lungs, chug our water, and take in the views. It was straight uphill. We took turns dragging each other up the mountain. When we finally arrived in Chinchero, we were greeted with hugs, mint tea, and steaming corn tortillas. We eagerly pulled open our steps trackers, ready to see evidence of the marathon we had walked that morning.
It was one mile. We’d walked one mile.
Uyuni
My friends and I opted to spend our spring break venturing to the Salar de Uyuni, a massive salt flat spanning over 4,000 square miles of Bolivia. A thin layer of water covered the ground, so we could see our reflections in some places. It was beautiful—nothing but salt as far as the eye could see. We walked away from each other until we could experience pure silence for the first time in our lives.
Bolivia wasn’t your average spring break relaxation. It entailed a fourteen-hour night bus, a two-boliviano tax to enter every bathroom, and local eats that landed my entire group with… stomach parasites. Was I envious of my at-home friends and their Floridian beach trips while I was trying to get some sleep on a Bolivian bus next to a toddler blasting Bluey from his iPad? Why, yes. Yes, I was. But the salt flats made it all worth it. Uyuni is truly an unmissable stop on any South American adventure. Just make sure you pack some Pepto.
Machu Picchu
I was worried Machu Picchu wouldn’t live up to the hype, but I’m happy to announce that it earned its spot on the Wonders of the World list. What made Machu Picchu so special wasn’t the site itself but its surroundings. Machu Picchu is totally isolated, a bus ride away from the town of the same name. We spent that bus ride staring out the window at the scenery, and all the passengers audibly gasped when we got our first glimpse of the ruins.
It’s a really indescribable place. You can feel the cultural significance from a mile away, and all 4,000 daily visitors are clearly thrilled to be there. Many local Peruvians follow up Como te llamas? with Has visto Machu Picchu? It was very exciting to tell them that, yes, I have!
Pisac
Pisac is the most underrated spot in Peru. Nestled in the mountains of the Sacred Valley, it’s a charming town with everything you’ve ever dreamed of—hikes, alpaca sweaters, and the best mochaccino I’ve ever had (shoutout to Masa Mamita).
Pisac is one hour from Cusco via colectivo, a van that’ll hurtle you over the mountains for just over $1 USD. Friends and I have spent a couple weekends in Pisac. It’s a wonderfully tranquil retreat from urban life in Cusco. And you can usually see a couple baby llamas in the main square!
I have so many good memories from Pisac, like hopping on the back of random motorcycles, watching the sunrise from a hammock, and spending a weekend at the WOLF TOTEM STEAM PUNK GUESTHOUSE HOSTEL, featuring an owner who howls louder than his dogs.
I’m leaving Cusco tomorrow. I’ve shoved my alpaca sweaters into my suitcase, realized I had too many alpaca sweaters for my suitcase, begged LATAM to let me check another bag of alpaca sweaters, and shipped a box of alpaca sweaters back to the U.S. I’ve taken my final exams and bade ciao to my favorite barista.
Whenever my professors, host family, and friends ask if I’ll be back to Peru, I say Ojala! God willing. Someday soon, I would like to call this country home. For now, I’ll just call it the best semester of my life.