waynehazle

<font color="red">Hello fellow travelers.</font> I don't spend as much time on this board as I do on the Asia and Africa boards. But back in 2003 I spent 2 wonderful weeks in Chile and Peru.

I usually create my own trip reports using Microsoft Publisher and then converting them to PDF and saving them on my website. www.waynehazle.com. However, I have been taking out the text and reposting the reports here for all in the Fodor's Family to read.

Whenever I post links on the boards it screws up the width of my reports, so I won't post links to the reports, just tell you what to search for.
<font color="brown">
<b>India</b> (search on the Asia board for my name and &quot;The Crucible&quot;

<b>East Africa</b> search for &quot;The East Africa Experience&quot;

<b>Southeast Asia</b> search for my name, Cambodia or &quot;South East Asian Adventure&quot;
</font>
So for the next week or so, I will post the <b>Andean Adventure here</b>. It centers around my trip to Santiago to the International Convention of Jehovah's Witnesses. It certainly isn't necessary to be religious at all to enjoy the report. I think even an atheist will get plenty of laughs from following our trip.

And of course, it climaxes when we reach Machu Picchu. For those who want to skip ahead. You can go to my site.

waynehazle

<b>Special points of interest:</b>
<i>· The International Convention of Jehovah’s Witnesses in Santiago.
· “Teepical” things
· Cusco, the city of the Incas
· The ruins of Machu Picchu
· The Sum of All Fears
· Chilean See Bass, Pisco and other fine things
· Crouching Llama: Hidden Dragon
</i>

<b><font color="OLIVE"><u><i>From the Editor’s Desk</i></u></font></b>

When I first started planning to write this journal, I was going to open with the following sentence:

“Right now, the world can now be divided into three types of people, 1) those opening this envelope and saying “Oh good another journal from Wayne!” and 2) Those who immediately flipped to the last page thinking, “Twenty-two pages! Come on Wayne! At least this is shorter than the last one.” 3) The uninitiated, who are quite surprised by all this.

However, there is also an additional group, a brave group of about thirty-five road warriors with whom I shared an amazing two weeks and are now opening this and thinking “Wow! He wrote a journal about this?”

I write these journals for myself as much as for anyone else. Any great trip is a collection of memories and putting them down in this form allows me to constantly relive the most wonderful, and craziest moments. When I was graduating from college in 1989, a professor told us ‘I am sure you all want to run out and buy clothes, cars &amp; lots of junk. My advice is not to waste your money on that. <font color="RED">Buy an old jalopy, but use your money to travel. Cars can be stolen, clothing gets torn, but the memories from traveling can never be taken away. They are yours. See the world!</font>’ I wish I had followed his advice even more than I have. It was five years after that before I finally ventured to go overseas on my first marathon European tour and another five before I began making travel a regular part of my life. Now it is a passion and I forward the same advice to others that that professor gave me over nearly fifteen years ago. You don’t need a lot of money, just the time and willingness to take the chance. For those who can’t (or won’t ) may the virtual tour on these pages fill your heart with the joy of adventure.

Please enjoy the 2003 version of the Hazle Journal. (Yes I know it will be 2004 when you are receiving it, but the trip was in 2003, so there!)

Special Note: While the trip was to an International Convention of Jehovah’s Witnesses, it is not necessary to be a Jehovah’s Witness to enjoy this newsletter. It is open for all to read. Many of you are used to my irreverent sense of humor and you should expect far more of that than of doctrinal dissertations. Nevertheless, there are many moments of love, faith, and joy that will hold a special meaning for Fellow Believers, especially the mighty members of Bus #65. I salute you all!

waynehazle

<font color="OLIVE"><b><u><i>The Next Trip</i></u></b></font>


The fact is, ever since I got off the plane from India in April 2002, I have been thinking about my next great trip. But of course much has changed in my life since then, as we read at the end of my last journal, I acquired a new travel partner. Mary Ellen and I have now been married just over a year and a half. Marriage of course, is a bigger adventure than anything else imaginable. India pales in comparison. I am fortunate to have chosen a partner in life who is willing to see the world with me.

In the winter of 2001, The Watchtower reported that in 2003 there would be international conventions of Jehovah’s Witnesses across the world in places like Barcelona, Madrid, Osaka, and Hawaii. One of the cities was Santiago, Chile. Mary Ellen and I were married in May 2002 and we began thinking about Santiago, Chile. I had never been to South America but had always felt drawn to this continent for several reasons including: the mighty Amazon River, the exotic rainforests, and Machu Picchu, the lost city of the Incas. If I could manage to get a side trip to one of these places, it would be another check on my list of great sites to see during my life. So far I had knocked off quite a few including the Leaning Tower of Pisa, the Sistine Chapel, Angkor Wat and the Taj Mahal. We filled out our applications. We found out we were accepted in December 2002. Our acceptance showed that one of the possible tour packages included Machu Picchu!

Finally in, in summer 2003, it was confirmed that we would be going to the Santiago convention and with the tour package that included time in Lima, Cuzco and Machu Picchu. Once we were confirmed, I continued my tradition of getting the Lonely Planet guidebooks for my destinations.

The preparation for international travel was now old hat for me, shots, malaria pills and <u>lots</u> of film. I also brought two novels to read, another favorite trip tradition. I had Sue Grafton’s <b><font color="ORANGE">“P is for Peril”</font></b>, a mystery novel series and a book called <b><font color="ORANGE">“The White Bone”</font></b> by Barbara Gowdy. It tells the story of a group of elephants trying to survive in the African wild. But it tells the story <b>from the elephant’s point of view</b>. Very unique! On top of this, I now have a wife and have her stuff too! I really have to commend Mary Ellen for getting so much better at packing lighter and lighter on each of our trips.

So on the evening on Thursday November 20th, I pulled my trusty black fedora onto my head and Mary Ellen and I carried the suitcases out of our home.

The tour would officially start with a flight out of Miami on Sunday November 23rd at 11:59 PM. Mary Ellen and I would arrive in Miami on Friday and stay with our old friend Mike Vigil.

waynehazle

<b><font color="BLUE"><u><i>The Pre-Trip: Miami</i></u></font></b>

On Thursday November 20th, my father-in-law Gary Pugh took Mary Ellen and I to LAX airport to catch a 7:59 PM flight to Miami. We would land early Friday morning and stay with an old friend from California, Mike Vigil. Sunday at 11:59 PM we would catch the red-eye from Miami and land early in the morning in Lima, Peru.

The check-in process went quickly. The four-hour flight was smooth. They showed <u>Pirates of the Caribbean</u>. I didn’t bother to buy the headphones. I was either reading or sleeping. Every once in a while I would look up to see Johnny Depp as a pirate with eye shadow. People keep telling me it’s great, but how on earth can that have been a good movie?

We touched down in Miami about 5AM. While we waited on the lowest level for a shuttle to take us to Mike’s house, we noticed a strange man standing by his car looking wildy towards the terminal and rocking back and forth strangely. His car was at one of those pickup spots where you are supposed to be for no more than 5 minutes while you pick up someone who has just come out of baggage claim. Most likely I would never have noticed this except the man had an <i>“Arab type look”</i> to him. Yes I know exactly how bad this sounds and you can probably guess where at least some of this tale is headed.

We continued waiting for our shuttle and the man kept looking, up and down, back and forth. He started to step away from his car. One of the guards yelled out <font color="RED">“Sir, please stay with your car!”</font> The man would seem to acknowledge for a few seconds, then start to step away again. Mary Ellen and I just looked at each other. Yes, we were thinking the same horrible prejudiced thing. Since ‘that fateful day’, we have all been bombarded with the same images. Yellow, red, orange security levels, unending news coverage, bombings, wars, we are more on edge than ever. And yes, sad to say, the way the media slants things it makes us more on edge against people with an “Arab type look”. We are warned to be vigilant, but not biased, but no one tells us how to do that. (Just as I am putting the finishing touches on editing this, the country is on a high alert. Air France canceled six flights to LAX for fear of a terrorists’ attack.)

The man’s head movements seemed to get more frantic… his arms seemed to be... more people were streaming outside onto the streets... Vans and taxis were pulling in and out of the area... we looked to the car… the man was <font color="GREEN">GONE</font>! I thought he dashed inside but I wasn’t sure. Where was he? Did he dash inside or did another car pick him up and speed off? The security guard, who I guess was a cop of some kind, headed over to the car and began taking down the license plate # to write a ticket. “That will do a lot of good when the 50 pounds of explosives ignites!”, I thought to myself. Where on earth is… suddenly he appears, pulling along an at least sixty-year-old woman with one of those ‘old lady’ suitcases. It couldn’t be more of a stereotype.

Here was a devoted son picking up dear old Mom from the airport and we nearly had him pegged as an Al Qaeda operative! As a Black male, there are few things I hate worse than racial profiling. Now I was doing it. What a horrible mess of a world man has created for himself… :-&lt;

One of the people, who shared the shuttle that we finally caught, just happened to be Chilean! He was a very cosmopolitan type guy, who told us that we would love it.

Friday, we hung out with Mike after sleeping for a few hours. Mike just purchased a beautiful Mustang convertible and we went with him to pick it up. We are still checking the United Nations’ Census reports, but we believe that in the next two days Mike called <b>EVERY HUMAN BEING ON EARTH</b> to alert them to his new purchase. Hey, you know us guys and our toys.

On Saturday, we went to the dedication of this Miami Beach Kingdom Hall. This is a magnificent building that actually has three Kingdom Halls inside. Brother Garret L&ouml;sch from the Governing Body of Jehovah’s Witnesses gave the dedication talk. For you non-Witnesses, the Governing Body of Jehovah’s Witnesses are a group of men appointed by holy spirit, who are responsible for the spiritual direction of the organization, or in layman’s terms, The Big Cheeses. (Yes, I know, we are just humble servants, only Jehovah and Jesus are truly in charge …) After this we had Cuban food for dinner at Little Havana’s Restaurant.

On Sunday, we went to the Kingdom Hall again and Brother L&ouml;sch spoke again. About 15 minutes into his talk, some people came in late, of course there were no seats in the back, and so they had to sneak quietly to the front. As they made their way down the aisle, Brother L&ouml;sch stopped speaking and just stared at them over his reading glasses. EMBARRASMENT! To really give the full sense of this moment to non-JWs (and most JWs will hate this example but I will use it anyway) imagine you are a Catholic, heading to some big thing-a-ma-jig right in Vatican Square, you are late. You try to slip in quietly, but the Pope stops speaking and just watches you as you stagger and stumble to your seat. DOH!

Then to compound it, Brother L&ouml;sch pointed in, in that oh-so-heartwarming Austrian/German accent “Vee hav plenty udder zeats up here.” Guess who will be on time to the next meeting?

Mike brought us to the airport with plenty of time to spare. Thanks Mike for all your great hospitality! ☺

We checked in and headed to our gate. When we got there we started seeing lots of Brothers and Sisters all wearing their convention badges, dressed nicely waiting for the plane. <u>Now the trip would really begin!</u> Everyone had already started socializing this was good, because the next 2 weeks we would all be linked together. I traded camera notes with one sister.

We boarded Lan Peru flight #511 and we were off to cross the equator. <b><font color="PURPLE">Tomb Raider 2</font></b> was one of the in-flight movies and for some reason I kept hearing the music from it in my head for the whole trip. In India, the defacto soundtrack in my head was Last of the Mohicans.

At about 5:30 AM, the pilot came on to let us know we would be landing in Lima.

waynehazle

OK, finally really starting now

<b><u><i><font color="GREEN">Day 1: Lima</font></i></u></b>

The plane touched down at 5:45 AM ish. We hustled off the plane and into the line for customs. Call it geeky, but I got a giddy thrill when I got the stamp for Peru on my passport.

Our first day was going to be a marathon. We weren’t actually going to spend the night in Lima. We were going to go to our hotel, shower, eat and nap for a bit. Then we were going to do a tour of Lima, then go to the Lima Bethel. Bethel means “House of God” in the Bible and in any given country the Bethel Home is a central point for Jehovah’s Witnesses in that country. After this, we would go back to the hotel, pick up our things and head back to the airport for a redeye flight to Santiago. The following week, after the assembly, we would fly back to Lima and finish our tour. This was a strange adjustment from the original itinerary but we were ready to go with it.

We got our bags from baggage claim and headed outside towards our bus. As we went through the exit doors, we were greeted with an amazing sight: the local Brothers and Sisters in the congregations from Lima were outside waving to us and greeting us with hugs and kisses! Here it was, not even 7 AM. This was the beginning of many, many such loving surprises over the next two weeks, and we never got tired of it.

Our bus took us through the early morning streets of Lima, a large city with the usual big city urban blight. But after driving through the streets of Delhi in India, Lima seemed calm, almost comatose.

We checked into the Posada del Inca in the San Isidro area of Lima. It is a beautiful mid-sized hotel and our room was great. Mary Ellen and I had breakfast, took a quick walk in the park out front and came back. However, a short 10 minute walk wasn’t enough for me. I knew from previous experience that some of the best times I had while traveling involved just getting away from guided touring and pointing myself in a direction and walking among the locals, letting the wind take me where it may. Mary Ellen was a little apprehensive about this, but I urged her to just trust me and to follow her more adventurous instincts. While in the lobby we saw Sister Katie Wood from Washington State. We asked Katie if she wanted to walk with us and she readily agreed, perhaps assuming that I knew what I was doing.

The bus for the tour was leaving at 2PM, but it was now noon, so we had plenty of time to enjoy our walk. So the three of us started walking through the streets of Lima. For the most part it felt like many a city in the United States. We walked and enjoyed the various styles of architecture and just people watching, and we walked… and walked… and walked. At some point we realized it was getting close to 1PM and we needed to get back to the hotel. Mary Ellen was hoping to nap before we went on the tour. ‘No problem’, I thought, ‘We have more or less been moving in a large square, one more right turn should head us back towards the hotel.’ So we made our turn. Hmmmm… <i><font color="RED">How long have we been walking anyway? Are we still <b>in</b> Peru?</font></i>

As a guy, I started to sweat a bit, not only did I have my wife with me, but an additional woman I had only met an hour ago! I kinda’ apologized and said ‘Don’t worry we will get back.’ Katie kept a stiff upper lip; She was like ‘Oh no this is fun, I’m not worried!’ Inside it was probably like ‘I thought this idiot knew where he was going!’

Well after much more walking, perhaps two or three miles, asking about a dozen people for directions, and more walking, we did arrive back at our hotel. I think about 15 minutes before the tour bus was set to leave! O

On the bus we drove through downtown Lima, with various sites being pointed out to us. This is of course the tougher side of these ‘bus tours’. You spend a lot of time driving past things that look interesting but not being able to stop. But we did stop several places and actually got off the bus for at least a few minutes.

Downtown Lima is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. UNESCO is the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization. Their World Heritage Committee identify sites across the world that are of significant cultural and historic value to the world and seeks to protect them. Please visit http://whc.unesco.org/

Founded in 1535, Lima, ‘the City of Kings’, was the most important capital in South America until the middle of the 18th century. The historic centre of the city contains many incredible buildings including the Convent of San Francisco.

We arrived at the Bethel in Lima. It was an oasis of beauty in a crowded urban sprawl. Sister Louise Byrd, who had been at the Lima Bethel since 1954 led our tour. Louise and her husband were among the very first Witnesses in Peru. Her husband was once a teacher at Gilead, the school that trains missionaries. They were in South Africa before being sent to Peru. We saw pictures of her and Brother Byrd taking tiny canoes out into the Amazon to talk to the native people. It was wonderful to see how worship of Jehovah has blossomed in Peru over the decades. Now over 140 volunteers serve at the Bethel home. When we went through the kitchen, the workers came out and greeted us. Hey what time is dinner anyway?

Finally we ended up in the rear courtyard. The Brothers and Sisters were going to put on a show for us. They gave us some snacks and some drinks and we sat. They danced traditional dances while wearing the typical Peruvian outfits. (No offense to my Spanish friends, but I could count dozens and dozens of times from this point on that I would hear something was typical, pronounced <font color="BLUE">‘teeepical’</font> of an area or the culture.)

We were thrilled. The final number was a version of the traditional song <font color="PURPLE">“El Condor Pasa”</font> that sent goose bumps rippling all over my skin. I just sat there and stared at the Andes Mountains in the background and I could feel the chill of excitement and the peace that comes with being satisfied. It was only the first day and anything else that happened from this point on was just icing on the cake! There were hugs and kisses shared between the Lima Bethelites and us.

We headed back to the Hotel Posada, grabbed our bags and headed back to the Lima airport. There again were crowds of Witnesses from Lima waiting to wish us a safe flight and that we enjoy the assembly. Amazing!

<b>City –Tax Gate</b>
Now was time for us to leave Peru and fly to Santiago, Chile. There is a rule that when leaving Peru you have to pay a $28 tax, I guess for the privilege of being there. We paid our tax, went to the gate and waited for our flight. Suddenly, one of the people from our tour showed up. She told us that she found out that since we were in Peru less than 24 hours we didn’t need to pay the city tax. Other people on the tour were getting refunds or no longer paying. She said if we went back we could get a refund. About ten of us went back to the desk to ask for our refunds. Long story short, NO DICE! We were upset, but we were determined to stay Christian and not let it ruin the great spiritual excitement we had.

We got onto Lan Chile #601. We would land at 6:15 AM the next morning.

<u>Charlie’s Angels 2</u> was one of the in-flight movies. Ahem, did they actually even bother to write a script for this movie? I mean come on!

waynehazle

<b><font color="PURPLE"><i><u>Day 2: Santiago</u></i></font></b>

The plane touched down in Santiago at 6:15 AM.

I got the Chilean stamp on my passport but not before paying the $100 Reciprocity Tax. It seems that a few years back, the United States started forcing Chileans to pay a $100 tax whenever they came to the U.S. so the Chilean government decided what’s good for goose is good for the gander. <i>Grrrr.</i>

As we got our bags in baggage claim, and headed out, we thought about the brothers waiting for us at the airport in Lima. Surely, this won’t happen aga-- and there they were! An even <b><i><font color="ORANGE">bigger</font></i></b> throng of Witnesses from Santiago was there to shower us with hugs and kisses! It moved many of us to tears. Right there in a corner of the terminal they put on a wonderful show for us of traditional Chilean celebrations. Mary Ellen talked to a few sisters and they said they had been at the airport all night preparing for and greeting other Friends. What an amazing show of Christian love and the trip was barely 24 hours old!

Our tour bus took us to the Ritz-Carlton Santiago. We checked in and Mary Ellen and I opened the room door: <b>Aaaaahhhh</b>! This is the good life. Mary Ellen and I collapsed into the plush featherbed mattress and slept from about 9 AM till 3ish. We got up and got ready to go out. Mary Ellen has an old friend, Kathy Pizarro, from her neighborhood in North Hollywood, who moved back to Chile some years ago. Kathy came to pick us up around 5ish and we fought our way through the Santiago rush hour. We went to a very Bohemian area in Santiago called Bella Vista. There are lots of restaurants and little shops. It was like Greenwich Village in New York. I was in the mood for seafood and a good soup. We went to a Restaurant called the <b>Azul Profundo</b>.

I have always heard of that Chilean Sea Bass was amazing and it was one of the things I had been looking forward to having on this trip. But as we looked at the menu, Kathy recommended trying another fish since the sea bass was so <i>teeepical</i>. I also got introduced to the pisco sour, a great Chilean drink which is sort’ve like a whiskey sour. IT would become one of the great themes of the trip. A little later, Kathy’s husband Arturo came.

Arturo is a bodyguard for the President of Chile. If you see a picture of the President, Arturo will most likely be there on his right side. (<font color="GREEN">not the new President</font Arturo was like a Chilean James Bond, smooth, perfectly coiffed and totally non-fazed by anything. I had a million questions I wanted to ask him about security for the President, but I wasn’t sure what was cool to ask and what might get me pinned to the ground and dragged off to prison. After dinner and <i>another</i> pisco sour, we walked around the neighborhood for a bit to shake the food down.

Cathy dropped us off at the hotel where the featherbed called out to us. Tomorrow was going to be a full day.

waynehazle

<b><font color="purple"><u><i>Day 3: Santiago Bethel and City Tour</i></u></font></b>

After a wonderful night of sleep at the Ritz, we awoke and went to downstairs to a glorious buffet breakfast which nourished us for a day in Santiago

Our first stop was the Bethel Home in Santiago. In Lima we were the only tour group stopping at Bethel. In Santiago, easily two dozen buses full of Witnesses showed up to tour. It was like a small army descending. However they were more than equipped to handle us. Instead of giving each group a guide, they more or less allowed us to go on a self-guided path. We saw the printery, various offices, laundry rooms, mechanic shops, woodshops, shipping, sign language interpreting and residential areas. At each station someone was there to explain to the group how things worked.

Then, in a Kingdom Hall on the property, we watched a video about the preaching work in Santiago. The first Witness in Santiago was Richard Traub who arrived on April 30th 1930. The preaching work grew through the years and now the country has 70,000 publishers. The Bethel home has well over 100 volunteers.

The Brothers and Sisters put on a wonderful show for us in the Assembly Hall, right next door to the Kingdom Hall.

We then went on to tour the city of Santiago. Santiago is a beautiful cosmopolitan city with a European feel. There were plenty of squares and plazas. The streets were calm and clean… almost a little too much. I missed the hectic chatter of hundreds of mopeds in Phnom Penh, Cambodia or cows crossing the roads in Varanasi, India. But all vacations can’t be the same. I still enjoyed myself tremendously.

Eventually we stopped at a touristy store where we could buy many teeepical Chilean items. They gave each of us one free shot of pisco sour to get in the mood for shopping. <i><font color="green">Wouldn’t you know it that somehow <b>five</b> more cups managed to find their way over to me and just pour themselves down my throat?</font></i> ☺ \/

We then stopped at another outdoor market that sold lots of arts and crafts. I bought a nice pancho for myself and some jewelry for Mary Ellen, my mom and sisters. While the tour bus took most people back to the hotel, Mary Ellen and I, as well as Mark and Tina Poindexter, another couple with the tour, ended up staying, doing more shopping and then catching a taxi back to the Ritz.

At the Ritz, we met up with Soon and Laurel Jang, old friends of mine from the Laguna Hills congregation. They were also in town as delegates for the convention. We went to a nearby restaurant and had a quick bite. Tomorrow was the first day of the convention, which would start at 1PM.

waynehazle

<font color="OLIVE"><b><u><i>Day 4: The First Assembly Day</i></u></b></font>

After over a year of waiting, this was the first day of the International assembly! We awoke and once again had the wonderful buffet breakfast of the Ritz-Carlton. The assembly would start at 1 PM. The bus for the assembly would pick us up in front of the Ritz at 11:30. So after breakfast we had some time to run errands.

One of my primary missions was to find a local laundry and dry cleaners. On my last two trips I got a lot of my clothes cleaned 1/2 way through. I promised myself that on my next trip I would bring even less clothing and just constantly get them cleaned. I had a pair of black pants and two shirts that were ready for some cleaning, not to mention our “unmentionables” ☺. I found a dry cleaner across the street. Can you believe they wanted $6.00 US to clean a pair of pants? At that price it should include some new material. At this point I started to get concerned. I was going to run out of stuff by the end of the week if I didn’t find a reasonable laundry or dry cleaner.

Shrugging this off, I went to the post office and got stamps for postcards. I then walked down to a supermarket to get bottled water and a few snacks for the day. While in line, I saw a sister I knew from ten years ago in Washington State! She was also in town for the convention. How funny for us to meet at this spot!

By 11:30 everyone from my tour group, awaited Bus #65 that would take us to National Stadium. The other buses were all taking off with their delegates. Our bus should be pulling up any second… aaaaannnny second now… the bus picked us up an hour late and wheeled us into the parking lot for National Stadium at minutes to 1 PM.. We would miss opening prayer for the first day. As the bus pulled up into a space to park, we saw a breathtaking site: throngs of the local Chilean Brothers and Sisters waiting outside for us to arrive! As we got off the bus they cheered and applauded! People ran up to us and hugged and kissed us.

In the weeks before the convention, Witnesses told us to be prepared for the overwhelming shower of affection we would receive, but it was impossible to prepare for this. One thing they did tell us to do is bring some little inexpensive gifts that we could pass out, like bookmarks, key chains, etc. Mary Ellen and I made bookmarks with a key scripture and photo of us on front and our contact info on the back. We had bags and bags of these, business cards with our contact info, as well as TONS of candy to give to the kids.

We struggled to make our way through the huge crowd that seemed to just want to be close to us even for a second. I had people begging to just take a photo with me! Apparently there isn’t exactly a sprawling Black community down in Chile. Many gave me their address cards, handmade bookmarks and pictures. Kisses, hugs and more kisses. “Mucho gusto!” They cried out. Some guy yelled “Hey where’s Miles Davis?”

<b>Huh?!?!?</b> (<i>Ed. Note: Apparently with my dark skin &amp; my outfit I looked like Miles Davis.</i

We actually had to force our way through the crowds to get to where our seats were. Uh oh!

In the United States almost all conventions have been at indoor arenas, for more than the last decade. Many of us grew up going to assemblies in blazing hot summer. Stroll with me now down memory lane as we recall getting to the convention early, trying to find “good seats”, putting up those umbrellas, having coolers with drinks, being well prepared… and still being miserably hot by mid-day. Well surprise, everything old is new again. National Stadium is an outdoor soccer, excuse me, football arena.

We sat on long wooden benches, with no back support, under the boiling Chilean sun with the local Brothers and Sisters. Our pampered American derri&egrave;res had forgotten what this was like. Did I mention it was hot? Yes, I know our Brothers in Africa have to swim across rivers filled with crocodiles to get to meetings, but sorry I was more than a tad uncomfortable. Then to top things off, the whole assembly was in Spanish. We knew that was coming, they told us a year and a half ago to make sure we went to an English assembly beforehand because we wouldn’t know what was being said.

So some non-Witnesses might be saying, “Wait a minute you flew halfway around the world to sit in the hot sun to ‘listen’ to something you don’t even understand? What is that about?” All I can tell you is that even as the sweat dripped down my back, I was so thrilled at being there. We all were. We sat among the local Witnesses and they were all looking over at us smiling, waving. There was a welcoming attitude that made the logistics seems like such a small thing. You just have to experience it.

We noticed that several of the local friends sitting on these benches, had these little portable seats with back supports, that they would put on top of the bench. Perhaps some of the friends noticed how uncomfortable Mary Ellen and I looked, as the session went on. At some point, two of the seats made their way over to us! Someone had given us theirs! What an incredible act of loving hospitality. I felt guilty that someone else would now struggle, while we sat a bit more comfortably. But of course I didn’t feel too guilty to use the seat!

The Thursday program had discourses on subjects like “Blessed Are Those Who Give Glory To God”, and “Jehovah Glory Revealed to Humble Ones”. We also had “Reports From Other Lands” in both English and Spanish, detailing Christian experiences from around the world.

The program ended that day at 5PM. After saying some hellos to the friends near us we headed back to the bus. They wanted us at it by 5:20. But the crowds from this morning were tiny compared to the horde we ran into on the way to the bus. By the hundreds, even by the thousands, the Spanish friends from Chile, Peru, Argentina and Brazil deluged us with affection. I had to get pulled onto the bus by the tour captains who were ready for us to go.

Mary Ellen and I got back to the hotel and collapsed for a bit. What just happened? How amazing! But now we needed something to eat. Mary Ellen wanted some empanadas, I didn’t quite understand what they were, but we walked up and down restaurant row with her asking for teeepical foods of Chile. Eventually, with some advice, we chose instead an Argentinean restaurant, A La Le&ntilde;a Asada. They had some incredible beef and chicken as well as papas fritas (French fries) in garlic oil. I washed it all down with <i>another</i> pisco sour. O

Tomorrow was going to be a full day. We needed to be on the bus at 7:30 AM. OK feather mattress, I hear you calling…

waynehazle

any readers out there?

JAGIRL

Just found it and shall start reading it. Just found your European one as well.

JAGIRL

Oh...and wayne, whenever you post a long url it messes up the format of the page.

Problem solved if you go to www.tinyurl.com .

waynehazle

<font color="BLUE"><b><i><u>Day 5 - Second Assembly Day</u></i></b></font>

<font color="RED">Ring! Ring! Ring!
</font>
<i>Huh? What? Where am I?</i>

It was 5 AM and the phone was ringing off the hook. It was a message telling us to be at the bus at 6:30 AM instead of 7:30 AM. We quickly dressed and staggered down to breakfast and then poured ourselves into the bus. I think I had one eye open… barely.

On top of this, we had agreed to meet with Mary Ellen’s friend Kathy after the assembly and have dinner at her home. We were also going to do laundry at her house. This meant that after the assembly we wouldn’t go back to the hotel on the tour bus. Instead we arranged for Kathy to come pick us up outside the stadium around 6 PMish. We had to cart our bag of dirty clothes with us to the assembly.

When we got to National Stadium we ran the gauntlet again of admiring friends. This time we were going to sit in the delegate section, which had an awning for some sun protection. We also had chairs with backs! Our seats were under the edge of the awning. At 9 AM the sun was hitting us directly. The hope was that as the sun rose, by 11ish, it would go past us, leaving us in the shade.

The morning program had discourses on subjects like: “Jehovah, Our Fortress In Times of Distress”

It was a little past 11 and unless I was losing my mind, the sun appeared to be “stuck”. The “shade line” stopped right before getting to me! So I was in the sun, and people to my left were in the shade. Can you believe that? Of course you can…

At lunchtime I went back outside and traded signatures and photos with my adoring crowds. Several fathers gave me their babies to hold and then wanted a picture of me with their families. I literally spent my entire lunch break standing in one spot meeting people. I simply couldn’t move from there. Every time I tried to get out of the crowds, someone else came up to me “Uno Photo? Por Favor.”

I went back to my seat when the afternoon program started. But after a while I couldn’t take the sun. Even with the umbrella blocking it I was still roasting anyway. I took a bit of a walk outside of the stadium. Eventually I came across a family sitting on the grass in the shade. They invited me over to sit with them. Their English was worse than my Spanish, but it was all good. They had a beautiful baby girl, which I held for a few minutes. We, of course, did the requisite picture taking. The mother said to me, “Would you like some water?” I saw their water in a bottle sitting on their blanket. I <b>was</b> really thirsty, but I noticed the water was in a soda bottle, so apparently it was tap water filled into the bottle from home. That <font color="RED">don’t drink the water</font> mantra reverberated in my head. This was one of those big choice moments. I remember our tour guide said, “Our water is pretty clean in Chile. We just have a few minerals that you all don’t have.” Minerals? What <font color="PINK"><b>“minerals”</b></font> would that be? I could end up keeled over in the bathroom for the rest of the night. On the other hand I really didn’t want to offend them. I mean, for crying out loud, the man had just handed me his baby to kiss!

<b>Choose wisely Indy. </b>

I took the cup of water they poured and swallowed the water in one gulp. For a split second I waited, just to see if my tongue would shrivel and fall out. Nothing happened. Only tonight will tell. I bid adieu to the family and headed back into the stadium.

At 5 PM, when the program ended, we made our way through more hugs and kisses to the designated spot where we said we would meet Kathy at 6PM. It was a busy local intersection, at rush hour. Taxis, buses, cars and throngs of the public fought together to move. I had this sinking feeling that we would be standing on the corner, with all our Bibles, big bags of laundry and other items for several hours. Something had to go wrong. Kathy would get stuck in traffic. Or one of us was actually at the wrong spot or… whatever. Just as I was settling in for the long haul, we looked around and there she was, standing by her car waving to us! Every once in a blue moon, things can just go right.

Within twenty minutes we were at Kathy and Arturo’s place in nice suburban section of Santiago. It was a neat condo with a lovely balcony. We got the laundry started and I caught a quick nap while Kathy and Mary Ellen caught up on old times. Kathy and Arturo’s beautiful 3 year old daughter, Kaitari, kept them company.

Eventually we ordered pizza and downed it with more pisco sours. OK what on earth is this pisco anyway? Pisco is a fruity aromatic brandy that Chile considers its national drink. It is mostly likely named from the Quecha word “Pisku”, which means “flying bird”. The most common way to have pisco is in the form of a pisco sour, and ice-cold mix of pisco, lemon juice and sugar. Sometimes an egg white is whisked in for a frothy head and angostura bitters for an extra zing. {From “The Rough Guide to Chile” Thanks for lending it to me Olga!} We bought a couple of bottles of the pre-mixed sours. I didn’t know how on earth we were going to carry it back, but as the saying goes, “We shall find a way or make one.”

Eventually Arturo came home. It was interesting to see James Bond come home and kiss his wife and play with his daughter. He and Mary Ellen spent an extended amount of time discussing the Bible, God’s plan for mankind and the hope for the earth. They needed to do this in Spanish so I just stayed in the periphery of things. We were enjoying ourselves so much that we lost all track of time. When we looked at the clock it was about 1 AM. Mary Ellen and I were zonked. Kathy bought us back to the hotel with a big bag of clean clothes. We said our goodbyes, it would be the last time we would see each other.

At about 1:30 AM Mary Ellen and I were in our rooms and we looked at each other and without speaking we both thought, “Was there any chance we were going to be able to be up by 5AM?”

waynehazle

<b><font color="OLIVE"><i><u>Day 6—A Little Hooky</u></i></font></b>&lt;I/&gt;

Ring. Ring!

(Barely audible) “…Hello?…”

(Thick Spanish accent) “Mr. Hazle, this is your wakeup call.”

Mary Ellen and I didn’t even budge. We ached all over. Jehovah forgive us, but today we were going to play a little hooky. Thank goodness we had already attended the English convention. Actually I did have to get up and stagger downstairs (properly clothed of course) to tell our bus group not to wait for us. I talked to the bus captain and then went back upstairs.

Next thing we knew it was around 10 AM-ish. We remembered that we missed the morning breakfast, which would explain our growling stomachs. Amazingly however, I never had any effects from the water I drank the day before. We filled out a bunch of postcards and then decided to go get some lunch.

We decided we were going to head the TGI Friday’s right next door to the hotel. In the elevator, we saw another couple, both dressed in a casual but clean cut way. We both looked at each other, hesitated, then asked laughing “Are you playing hooky too?” Mary Ellen and I sat across from Enrico and Sharon Esparze at a table and downed some grub. Enrico actually lived in Southern California for a while... in fact in the San Fernando Valley. As we continued, Enrico had this quizzical look on his face. “Hey wait a minute, don’t I know you?”, he said to Mary Ellen.

When they started trading names of people, it turns out they met each other about ten years earlier and had many friends in common! It is so clich&eacute;d to say that it is a small world in Jehovah’s Organization, but it really is! We all got a great laugh out of it. Afterwards, Mary Ellen got a massage. (Hey if we are going to play hooky, we might as well do it right!) I was 2/3rds of the way through “P is for Peril”.

Another couple from the Glendale Congregation, Troy and Solandy Evans, were also in town as delegates for the convention. We arranged to meet them for dinner. Mary Ellen asked the Ritz concierge where we could get empanadas and other foods teepical of Chile. He told us to go to a place called Chilenazo’s. We caught a taxi there and the Evans were waiting for us. It was a really neat place, but when Mary Ellen asked the waiter… no empanadas!

Troy and Solandy told us that over 1400 people were baptized at the assembly! How wonderful. We were sorry to have missed the excitement.

Back at the hotel, Mary Ellen and I started our first round of packing. Man those suitcase were getting heavy!

waynehazle

<font color="BROWN"><i><u>Day 7—Last Assembly Day </u></i></font>

Sunday November 30th, the last day of the convention, the “day of days”!

At breakfast, I was amazed at the ‘wreckage’ of the people downstairs. Never had I seen a group of people so happy to be so tired and worn out. As we downed, omelets, ham, fruit, bacon, etc. bleary-eyed people traded amazing stories of Christian love and warmth. Mary Ellen and I also found out that a few other people on our bus group didn’t make the assembly yesterday. But there were no massages for them. They were huddled in bed or under siege from Montezuma, if you know what I mean…

Again we ran the beautiful gauntlet at the stadium grounds. The crowds were even larger today. They also knew it would be the last time they saw us, so they were determined to get pictures with us.

The morning session covered “Parents, Build Up the Family Circle” and “How Youths are Praising Jehovah”. At the end of the morning spontaneous applause and banner waving started. Then we started doing the wave. It lasted about 15 minutes! We had such joy at being together, and such sadness that it would end soon.

For final talk of the afternoon, “Keep Bearing Much Fruit, To Jehovah’s Glory” Brother Theodore Jaracz of the Governing Body spoke, in English with another Brother translating to Spanish. He detailed thrilling experiences that people had over the four days. One of the great things that stood out in my mind is that the local police patrolled the stadium like they do for all events. Usually, with the soccer games at the stadium, they are constantly taking out their batons, or even guns to control an incredibly rowdy crowd. There are riots, and trash gets thrown. But the city officials said that over the four days at our convention, the police weren’t even necessary! One hundred and seven thousand people, in three venues, together worshipping Jehovah in unity and peace. Can you imagine it?

As always, we closed triumphantly with the song “We Thank You Jehovah”. We sang in so many languages, it should have been a mess, but it was the most beautiful sound. When the closing prayer finished, not only did the spontaneous applause, hugs and kisses break out again, and also another few great rounds of “the wave”, but also we began singing Kingdom Songs. A group would start yelling out a number, and then everyone would turn to that song in their songbooks, or sing from memory. Twenty minutes later as we started trying to head out for the bus, it was still going.

The hotel had a much quieter feel that evening. Some of the energy had to dissipate a bit. Mary Ellen was determined to get these empanadas. We heard the supermarket down the street had them. So we made a beeline for the Unimarc. We went to deli/bakery area and there they were. Mary Ellen pointed out the types to me, there was ham and cheese, ground beef or just cheese, wrapped in some kind of flour.

That’s it? We’ve been running all over Santiago to find a ham and cheese sandwich? Hmmm. Anyway, we sat outside the supermarket on a bench and wolfed down our sandw—er, um empanadas. We watched the people of Santiago pass by. It was a nice simple moment.

We went back the hotel and packed everything. Tomorrow was supposed to be a simple day on our own, but our groups arranged for a bus and guide to take us on a day excursion to a Chilean winery, <b><font color="PINK">Valparaiso</font></b> and <b><font color="PINK">Vi&ntilde;a Del Mar</font></b>. The vacation wasn’t over by a long shot.

waynehazle

<b><i><u><font color="OLIVE">Day 8—Chile By the Sea</font></u></i></b>

In the morning, we lugged our bulging suitcases to the bus. In a few minutes we were out of the city of Santiago and rolling through the Chilean countryside. The sky was clear and the Andes were our perfect background. We passed by copper mines, and farms with cows lounging in the grass.

We stopped at the Vermonte Winery and did a little tasting. We had no room to carry any wine back with us and they didn’t do any shipping. Besides several people told me that Chilean wines are already quite popular in the U.S. and I could probably go to my local supermarket and get Chilean wines less expensive than buying them here.

Then we headed to the coastal city of Valparaiso. With a population of over 270,000 it is Chile’s 2nd most populous city. It is one of the most essential commercial ports in all of South America. Chile’s Navy is based in this city. We slowly found our bus winding uphill through tiny twisting streets. We saw a Brother walking, possibly Witnessing on the street. As we made our way to the top of the hill, an interesting relaxation came over my body. The urban cityscape of Santiago was gone. We were now transported an old world town with lots of brightly colored barrios and shantytowns that gave a quaint feel. It reminded me of leaving Rome, Italy and going to southern areas like Sorrento and Capri.

The tour bus stopped and we had the requisite hour or so to look around and buy tourist knick-knacks from the vendors. Oh how I wish I had a day or two to wander all the alleys and roads! Valparaiso also has fifteen ascensores (funicular elevators) to lift people up from lower streets to the tops of the hills. I got in a quick walk and breathed the seaside air. If ever we return to Chile, this place is a must stay for a few days!

Back on the bus, we cruised the coast and headed to the beach playground Vi&ntilde;a Del Mar. As we drove, our guide explained a unique phenomenon of Chile to us. Powerful earthquakes structurally destroyed many buildings in Chile. Depending on the damage, with some of the more historical buildings, they would keep sections of the outer fa&ccedil;ade and building a new building inside of it! Strange idea, but it actually made sense when you saw it.

We dined at Los Pomairinos Restaurant by the water. More sea bass, more pisco sours. <i>Come on you know the routine.</i>

Then it was time to head to the airport and bid Santiago good-bye. We had quite an ordeal ahead of us. Our next destination was Cuzco, the ancient city of the Incas, back in Peru. We were catching a red-eye out of Santiago; we would land in Lima about 1 AM Lima time, sit in the airport and catch a flight at 11 AM to Cuzco. <font color="RED">Yes you are reading that correctly</font>, we would sit in the airport for 10 hours in the middle of the night waiting for our flight. There was nothing to do and nowhere to go at that time. I guess we could all curl together on the airport benches and get a long nap. A few people could stand guard over the bags… I had it all worked out.

While standing in the airport, a strange young man came up to me and put his arm around me and just looked at me. OK. There was something… Justin Franks. Someone I knew more than ten years back in Washington! He and his wife were also delegates. Yeah yeah, small world…

The flight to Lima was smooth. Somewhere on it I finished “P is for Peril”, cracked open “The White Bone” and then dozed.

Technically I should be moving to the next day at this point, but we had a change of plans which made things blend together even more. Rather than sitting in the airport for 10 hours, we were going to be taken back to the hotel Posada in Lima, where we could nap for a few hours and eat. Also, we would take 2 days of clothing out of our suitcases for our 2 day excursion to Cusco and Machu Picchu. The rest of our things would be left at the hotel in storage, since we would come back here for a day before flying out on Friday.

<b>Got it?</b> At about 2 AM Mary Ellen and I opened the door to our room at the Posada, set a 6 AM wakeup call and fell into unconsciousness.

waynehazle

<font color="BLUE"><b><i><u>Day 9—In the Shadow of the Incas</u></i></b></font>

Ring ring!

(Groggy voice) Hello.

(Spanish accent) Mr. Hazle this is your 6 AM wakeup call.

(Groggy) Uh huh.

We packed a few of our necessities into one of our smaller suitcases. The bellman would put the rest of our suitcases in storage. We stumbled down to breakfast where everyone grumbled our good mornings. We had special Quechua tea that was supposed to help us with the altitude sickness we would get flying to Cuzco. A few minutes later we were back at the Lima airport and then lifting off into the skies headed to Cuzco, legendary city of the Inca Empire. {You will see it spelled both Cuzco and Cusco, both spellings are fine.}

According to legend, the first Inca, Manco Capac, the son of the sun (Yes you read that right), founded Cuzco in the 12th century. However, archaeological records show that other cultures occupied the area centuries before. In the Quechua language the city was Qosq’o, which meant “the earth’s navel”. The Incas had no written language. They passed their history orally through generation after generation. The empire grew mightier and mightier through the 1400s and into the early 1500s. Then Francisco Pizarro and the Spanish Conquistadors arrived and the world would never be the same again.

The Spaniards came to the New World in the relentless quest for gold and silver. They came with horses, guns, swords, armor and willingness to kill those who stood in the way of their conquest. The clubs, spears, slingshots and arrows of the unarmored Incas were no match for the Spanish.

By the end of the 1500s, Cuzco was a quiet, colonial, Spanish town. All the gold and silver was gone. Many Inca buildings had been pulled down to put up Spanish churches and houses. Cuzco faded into the pages of history. But it was put back on the map in 1911 when Machu Picchu was discovered. Cuzco now became the gateway to see the fabled Lost City. I felt excited as---

<font color="PURPLE"><b><i><u>Hey why did the plane just shake?!</u></i></b></font>

We were flying high into the mountains. Cuzco is 11, 000 feet above sea level. We downed more Quechua tea. We were told that the best thing to do was to take a day or at least several hours to get acclimated to the lower oxygen at this level. The worst thing to do would be to get to our hotel, drop our bags and run right out and start touring. <i>So of course we weren’t going to do that right? Right? </i>

We taxied into the airport and with our small bag count we went through baggage claim at light speed. They pointed us to the door to go outside. I wonder if there were Witnesses in Cuzc that would be wating. And there they were! As we stepped outside, the local Jehovah’s Witnesses from Cuzco were there to welcome us. But something was different.

Gone were the more Europeanized looks of many we saw in Santiago. These Brothers and Sisters were Indians, people of the mountains, their skin kissed by the sun and they were beautiful to us. As wonderful as all the experiences were in Santiago, I was deeply moved by seeing this humble group of Brothers and Sisters out there. We could have stood out in the parking lot with them all day. We were worlds apart, yet as close as possible.

We got on the bus and headed through the streets of Cuzco. The ambiance was 180 degrees different from the cosmopolitan atmosphere of the streets of Santiago. The vibe of ancient history permeated the air. <b><font color="VIOLET">This is the stuff I love!</font></b> The guide started pointing things out to us. She also said, “How about we go for our city tour at 2 PM?” It was now 1:30 PM.

Hmmm, well weren’t we supposed to… Oh I’m sure it’ll be fine I thought. I’m a Rugged Man of Adventure™. I can handle anything. I’ll just drop the bags at the hotel, drink some water and more Quechua tea. I had mentally trained myself to started breathing much deeper to take in more oxygen with each breath. <i>I’m sure it will all be fine…</i>

The Hotel Novotel Cusco was totally opposite of the Ritz. It had the Old World charm of a Spanish villa. A courtyard was in the center. We went to our rooms. They were simple with no featherbeds, but that was just fine by us.

As we dashed back out to the bus, women and children selling postcards, pins and assorted knick-knacks descended upon us. So many in our tour got soft-hearted and felt bad not buying something. I think Mary Ellen stopped and talked to every single person that clamored around her. I had been extremely hardened after my tours through Asia. I learned to say No! No! No! and keep walking. I pushed my way through to the bus as I watched everyone else get surrounded by young kids. I smiled. <i>Hey my head feels a little… no I’m sure it’s fine…</i>

We drove through downtown Cuzco. Cuzco is the oldest continually inhabited city in the Americas, It is said that many of the ancient roads pre-date the time of Jesus Christ. We passed by several ornate churches of stone. As I looked at these beautiful churches, I couldn’t help wondering what Inca buildings were torn down to put them up. With no written record, we will never know. This gives Cuzco a strange feeling of history and of tremendous loss.

The main square, Plaza de Armas, or Huacaypata was once the heart of Inca Cuzco. As I stood in the square I thought of how history and destiny collided at this spot. On one side, stood a great empire, brilliant in many things including architecture, astronomy and agriculture, an empire rich with precious metals of the earth. On the other side, loomed a powerful empire willing to conquer, subjugate and kill for those metals. The Incas worshipped the sun, the moon, stars. The Spaniards bore the Cross and believed in conversion by the sword. I felt myself choking under the weight of the moral—<font color="GREEN"><b>Hey wait, I really am choking! My breathing is getting… my legs are wobbly…and my head! What is this?</b></font>

We made a stop at the Church of Santa Domingo. This is also where Coricancha, the major Inca temple of Cuzco was located. In fact sections of the temple are located inside the cloister of the church. Large paintings in the courtyard depict the life of Saint Dominic. The church has twice been destroyed by an earthquake, once in 1650 and once in 1950. The most fascinating thing is to see the extensive damage done to the colonial church while the Inca temple inside was barely affected! Apparently the style of design the Incas used made their buildings much more resistant to earthquakes.

<b><i>The Sexy Woman and Hey Weren’t We Supposed to Rest First?</i></b>
We got on the bus and drove out to see the Sexy Woman. Uh oh, you’re thinking, wasn’t this supposed to be a Christian trip? Have no fear, “the Sexy Woman, is actually Sacsayhuam&aacute;n, (come on look closely at the word and sound it out), a huge ruin on the edge of the Cuzco area. The name actually means “satisfied falcon” and it was the palace area, as well as a fort of one of the first Inca kings.

Even though the area is gigantic, it is estimated that only 20% of the original structure still remains. While the Spaniards tore down many walls and buildings, they did leave unmoved many blocks at Sacsayhuam&aacute;n, including one block that weighs over 300 tons! The Incas envisioned Cuzco in the shape of a puma, with Sacsayhuam&aacute;n as the head. The fort there was also the site of a bitter battle between the Spaniards and the Incas. Two and a half years after Pizarro entered Cuzco, Manco Inca, a puppet ruler installed by Pizarro himself, rebelled. Manco recaptured Sacsayhuam&aacute;n from the Spanish and used it to lay siege to the conquistadors in Cuzco. The Spaniards were almost driven out, but in a last ditch effort by about 50 Spanish cavalry, they recaptured Sacsayhuam&aacute;n and ended the rebellion. Most of the Incas were killed. It was one of their last great stands.

The bus drove us up, up and up the winding roads that led to the site at the top of a mountain. Man oh man is that bus driver taking the curves fast, <i>I’m feeling a little…, I think I’m gonna…</i>

Well by the time we got to the top and it was time to get out of the bus I was nearly doubled over. My head was swimming and I could barely stand. I was thinking of waiting in the bus while everyone toured the site, but I pushed myself out. I mean when would I be back here again? Mary Ellen wasn’t feeling great, but she was doing much much better than me. Slowly, step-by-step I made my way up the stairway of the great ruins. <font color="PURPLE">Keep breathing, can’t lift legs, can’t <b>feel</b> legs, keep breathing…</font>

The top was a beautiful sight. We could see the city of Cuzco and its dark red brick houses. I thought of the great battles that were fought at this very spot. Blood ran like a river over these very stones. It was said that swarms of carrion eating Andean condors feasted on the flesh of the dead Incas warriors that littered this site. There were some incredibly deep thoughts to think at this moment and if I weren’t so worried about vomiting, I would have thought very deeply about them.

A local guide handed Mary Ellen and I some leaves to sniff. He said it was special “Inca mint” that helped with the altitude sickness. Well I would have sniffed just about anything at that point, so I almost shoved that stuff up my nose as I crawled back to the bus.

<b><font color="GREEN">The Sum of All Fears</font></b>
We stopped by a shop to look at beautiful wool sweaters. I wanted to look for another pancho and other items. The baby alpaca sweaters were beautiful and soooo soft to the touch. Mary Ellen was anxious to show her wheeling and dealing skills again, but I was feeling wretched. I stumbled outside and just sat on a bench, sniffing my mint. I had to hustle out of the store for fear I was going to hurl all over lots of handmade wool sweaters… and end up having to buy them!

The world was spinning. I can’t get sick now! I’m going to Machu Picchu tomorrow! This was the sum of all fears, that here I was on the cusp of a lifetime event and now I would have to spend tomorrow in the hotel heaving while everyone else went on. I summoned my inner Indy Jones spirit. <font color="BROWN">Come on Wayne, pull out of it dude…</font>

Back at the hotel I immediately collapsed in bed while Mary Ellen, the defacto Spanish translator/wheeler dealer for the group helped several sisters buy sweaters, bags, etc. After a few hours, I woke up and we went down to eat. I sucked down some broth, while Mary Ellen ate from the buffet. We sat in the lovely courtyard of the Novotel while musicians played beautiful native music. It would have been a wonderful romantic moment had not… well you know. I must admit the highlight of the evening for me was when I thought I was going to lose it, and Mary Ellen grabbed a plastic bag for… well you know. Bet you didn’t think marriage would come to this huh Darling? Just having the bag with me made me feel a bit better.

For the next few hours I struggled to sleep. All sorts of biology was going on that I won’t even share with you. If I had to tape that bag to my face and crawl on hands and knees, tomorrow I was going to Machu Picchu.

<b><font color="BLUE"> Come on Indy…</font></b>

waynehazle

<b><font color="RED"><i><u>Day 10—GLORY: The Ruins of Machu Picchu</u></i></font></b>

Ring ring! [Blah blah... ]

The 5AM wakeup call signaled us to breakfast. The train would leave Cuzco before 6AM, arriving at Machu Picchu nearly four hours later. I wasn’t ready to run a hundred yard dash, but I actually felt substantially better. My legs were wobbly. You ever see one of those nature shows, where a zebra or a gazelle is born on the plains of Africa? Its knees and legs are wobbly and unsure. If it just gets a little time to steady itself, it will be fine. But somewhere, hidden in the high grass, the lions and other predators look on, licking their lips. Well I didn’t see any lions as I ate my breakfast. I never ended up using the bag, which I am sure you were wondering.

Before 6 AM we were on the train to Machu Picchu. We zigzagged our way over the mountains of Cuzco, out of the city and across the farmlands. Hand built red brick houses dotted the landscape. We saw farmers getting an early morning start, tending to cows and chickens. There were fields of corn. Women and children carried large baskets. A tiny smile crept up my face and my heart felt peaceful.

<b><font color="PURPLE">The Inca Trail</font></b>
Soon Cuzco was far behind and we were deep into the mountains. The train tracks snaked through the peaks and valleys. We were on the Inca Trail!

The Inca Trail is a 33km trail that stretches from close to Cuzco and leads to Machu Picchu.

Finally, finally, finally the train started slow down. We were there! Almost. We skipped through the train station and then ran a quarter mile line of merchants selling their wares. Our guide told us that if we were going to make purchases, it should be done at the end of the day, after we had hiked through the ruins. We went through the little pueblo of Machu Picchu, a small group of restaurants, hotels, shops and miscellaneous buildings, nestled at the base of huge mountains.

I looked up, trying to see the tops of the mountain, but they disappeared behind the clouds. We got into a bus and followed a twisty winding road up into the sky. It seemed to take forever, but in reality it was about 20 – 30 minutes going uphill until we stopped at the entrance. We checked many of our bags, got our tickets and went through the gate. As we walked in Veronica, our wonderful tour guide, told us that Machu Picchu actually means “Old Mountain”. She pointed to the old mountain that shot up in front of us. At this point we still hadn’t seen any ruins, but the view from here was spectacular. The clouds hung effortlessly over these incredible peaks.

“OK, now we climb up to the top! We take shortcut.” we followed Veronica up a winding path of stone. Amazingly, I was breathing very well and felt very good. I think the adrenaline took over my body. We reached the end of the path, walked out onto a flat surface, <font color="PURPLE">and there it was</font>!

Ahead of us, shining back at us in all its wonder, was the glorious stonework of Machu Picchu, “the lost city of the Incas”. The air was clean and crisp. I felt the tiniest of breeze. It was a moment I could freeze forever. We were actually on a ridge overlooking the ruins. It is the place where all those great pictures of Machu Picchu are shot. You can imagine all of us tourists snapping away with our cameras at this point. Veronica told us we were going to go up to a higher ledge to see it from a different angle. Each angle, each view, had its own magnificence.

Finally we reached the highest ledge, and sat down. Veronica, a proud Quecha Indian herself, regaled us on the history of her people and the mystery of this great site. Machu Picchu is one of the great mysteries of archaeology. Because there was no written record, we don’t know why it was built and what its function was. The Spanish Conquistadors never found this site. (Thank Goodness!) It was used or inhabited for about 50 years and then poof! The inhabitants left or died off. Machu Picchu was forgotten.

On July 24, 1911, American historian Hiram Bingham, stumbled upon this city, while he searched for other Inca ruins. It was covered in vines and vegetation. Slowly they cleared away the growth and attempted to restore parts that were knocked over. Since that time there has been examination and speculation on the sites purpose. Over 50 burial areas with more than 100, mostly female skeletal remains were found there. This led some to think that special chosen women were kept there to cater to the needs of the Inca men.. Interesting thought, but unlikely.

Or was it a small city where a small band of runaway Incas hid out, escaping the Spanish sword and living in peace. Romantic, but Machu Picchu was already abandoned before the Spanish even arrived in the New World.

Most likely, it was an important ceremonial center. Some of the sections discovered are a Temple of the Sun, a House of the High Priest and ceremonial baths. Once she finished, Veronica told us we could go off on our own and explore the ruins. We were to meet back at the restaurant at 1 PM, then we were free to do what we wanted, but we needed to be at the train, back down at the base of the mountain at 3PM.

So off we went into the ruins, exploring various sections, just soaking it in. There were quite a few mosquitoes all around. But I had sprayed myself with insect repellent and had gotten tons of vaccinations before leaving the States, so I was ready for them. A group of llamas sat in a large open courtyard.

At 1 PM we met back at the restaurant with its sumptuous buffet. I felt like my old self as I devoured all kinds of food. After lunch I was ready to hit the ruins again. Mary Ellen had seen enough at this point. She and some sisters were going to catch the bus down to the bottom and do some shopping. I popped in a roll of black and white film and reentered the site.

<b><font color="PURPLE">Rise of the Llamas - Big Showdown at Machu Picchu Part 1</font></b>

I made my way across the beautiful terraces. I wanted to make sure I took a different path than we did before. I thought to myself, “ This black and white film will look--” I noticed a large llama was blocking my path. <i>Hmmm. Shoo. Come on, Shoo!</i> I know you’re laughing, but in that picture on day 8 with Mary Ellen and the llama, the llama is actually trying to bite her! Another person in our group actually did get bitten. by the same llama. I didn’t feel like losing any flesh. On top of this I hear llamas have a nasty little habit of spitting.

But come on! It looked so harmless. Surely these llamas were used to people, with gazillions of tourists streaming through every year. It just stood there looking at me and I looked right back. <b>Am I not a man?</b> I summoned my courage and then did the only thing I could do… I ran away like a ten-year-old girl and took another path. I mean come on; I could get bitten and spit on. Who needs that?

I let the wind take me down a different path, away from the rest of the tourists. Soon a I found myself completely alone, at what felt like the “back side” of Machu Picchu. I sat on the edge of a rock and stared into the Andes Mountains. I could picture some four hundred years ago a young Inca boy sitting at this very spot, staring at the magnificent peaks, and wondering what his future would be. I could have stared into those timeless mountains for the rest of the day.

I looked at my watch and it was after 2 PM. The train left at 3 PM and I still needed to get on the bus to go down the mountain. I started walking back, quickly. I skipped across the terrace and then..

<b><font color="PURPLE">Crouching Llama: Hidden Dragon – Big Showdown at Machu Picchu—Part Duex</font></b>

Here we go again! Another llama blocked my path! Actually this time there were two! Come on I don’t have time for this! Shoo! But the stare down continued for several seconds. Then a young Peruvian girl, probably no more than twelve, came up behind me. We looked at each other and at the llama. She shrugged her shoulder and started to move forwards.

I thought to myself, <i>“Yeah that’s it, let the kid take the fall”</i> [Stop laughing, I said those things bite!] Well the young girl made it past without being bitten or spit on. OK, Indy, you can’t let some kid show you up. I breathed deep and… walked past, unscathed. And of course all you Monday morning quarterbacks are saying “Well, duh Wayne!”

But now time was of the essence. I made it out to the pickup spot. No one else in my group was there. Weren’t we supposed to meet… It was now 2:33 by my watch. There was another bus there. The driver said he was about to head down. I told him that I had a 3PM train to catch, He said no problem we’ll make it.

We took off and I swear he was taking hairpin turns at 50 miles per hour and yet it wasn’t fast enough for me. <font color="GREEN">What would happen if I missed the train?</font> I wasn’t even sure there was another one running for the night. Of course, there were no cell phones so I had no way to reach Mary Ellen. She would panic if she was on the train and there was no sign of me! I won’t even mention what it would do to my itinerary if I had to spend the night there and leave the next morning.

<b>Tick tick tick!</b> My clothing was glued to my body with sweat. Come on! Come on! It was 2:55 and we finished the last turn. I scooted up to the front of the bus. It was time for the run of my life. Like a fleet footed gazelle, my lean muscular legs would hurtle me through the crowds and into the train with a seconds to spare. 2:58 the bus came to a stop. My will was iron. I will make that train and nothing will stop me. The door opened and like a canon I shot out.

Cough. Wheez. Sputter. Dead stop! OK, what time is that next train? Did I just cough up my spleen? I resisted the urge to curl into the fetal position on the ground. I slowly walked up the path and saw several people in my group causally shopping! What gives?

Someone said, “Oh the train leaves at 3:30, she just told us that to get us to be here on time!” I’ve never been so happy to have been lied to. I saw Mary Ellen shopping, oblivious to why I was sweating so profusely. “Come on honey!”, I cried out, “We don’t want to be late for the train.”

As the sun went down, the train brought us back through the Andes, following the Inca trail once more, back to the town of Cuzco. When we arrived it was nighttime. We were exhausted, but satisfied. The trip was just about over. We needed to go to bed ASAP because tomorrow we were catching a 7 AM flight out of Cuzco. Our wakeup call was going to be at 4:45 AM. <i><font color="GREEN">Hey who’s making this itinerary, Genghis Khan? </font></i>