Four years ago: Machu Picchu

This post is the email I sent from Cusco, Peru to my friends and family on April 23, 2009, with some photos added here. Something about the date today triggered a memory, and I went back into my Gmail archives. It has been wonderful to revist these memories- I'm not saying this is in my plans, but if I found myself returning to Peru, I would be sublimely happy.

...

Yesterday I was in Machu Picchu.

It was the reason I came to this country, and I saw it for myself. I went by El Camino Inka, the three day trek through the mountains of the Sacred Valley, down into the beginning of the rainforest, past other ruins that are almost as impressive as the main attraction. El camino (the road) was a sacred route to Machu Picchu used by the Inkas. Sunday was an easy day– hostel pickup at 6 am, then a bus ride to km.82, the starting point of the hike. It was sunny, my Quechua guide did a nice little ceremony on the first bridge for us (all things positive come from upstream, all negative things are swept away). US was me, and Anasol and Valeria, from Argentina. Because I apparently pass muster with the Spanish crowd now–they didn’t put me with the rest of the gringos! When I finally introduced myself to the American half of our group before lunch I startled them–they assumed I didn’t speak any English.

Lunch was amazing, in that the porters, who outnumbered us, assembled a dining tent, cooking tent, and a full meal in forty-five minutes at our halfway point. These porters are truly astounding–they run past you on the trail in their sandals carrying tents and chairs and groceries for three days...only they can make you feel lazy while you are hiking and sweating. I did my best to explain in Spanish during the porter-thanking ceremony that they are the reason my dream was possible. Dishing out coca leaves mid-trail was also appreciated...the giant wads they chew could have something to do with their stamina.

I don't remember the name of these ruins, but they bowled me over. You walk up to a ridge, look over, and this lays before you.

The second day was five unbroken hours of uphill. It was beautiful. And the top? They call it Dead Woman’s Pass.  I was very grateful for my iPod. But then you descend into a view that makes it all worth it (vale la pena).

Looking down, heading up to Dead Woman's Pass, a 3,000-foot climb.

Looking up

I was a bit cracked out on coca leaves and mesmerized by these ancient patterns of rock (I was chewing the leaves. Which is legal in Peru. You get a mild stimulant effect, they suppress appetite, relieve body aches, et cetera. They are essential for life at 13,000 feet). This trek was from about 11,500 feet to almost 14,000-- lucky me, I'd been acclimating over the months of my stay in Cusco.

This doesn't look like a dead woman to me.

The trail for the following day.

The third day is considered the most beautiful, because you travel the farthest (thankfully only two hours of up!) And you cross the second pass, and all of a sudden you have come down into the beginning of the rainforest. Ferns, orchids, vines, plants growing from tree branches. That frog/bird/insect “rainforest” sound. And appropriately, it rained on us. Hiking in the rain is fun! ...Did you pick up my tone on that one? If I had not already come to love sock liners, dorky raincoats, and quick-dry pants, I would have then.

How twisted and interesting is it that being in this place made me think first of screensavers, and then of Disneyland? “Look at this! Waterfall, dripping moss, brightcolored bird! It’s like those changing screensavers! Or like the jungle ride, only real!” I don’t know what this says. Dissertation about technology, or about manufacturing reality, someone? In the end I guess it just reaffirms the value of experiencing something real for yourself. And through the rain, we got a glimpse of Winaywayna, the last camp, just around the mountain from Machu Picchu. And I began to get very excited.

Winaywayna

So at four a.m. yesterday, we got up, ate our pancakes (I love you, porters) and began the last section of the trail at 5:30. And it was dark, and still raining. They told us to go slow, but I am impatient. But I hurried for nothing, because although I was one of the first to Intipunku (Sun Gate), the famous first view was just fog. Twenty minutes later, around seven, I was in Machu Picchu. And could barely see it. I told myself I had all day to wait...

I climbed Wayna Picchu, the sacred mountain that overlooks the ruins. My friend Keidi who went before I did was right to call it the Inka Stairmaster. Do the forty minute program, and you get a few glimpses of the famous view. But I was happy anyway, and finally ate my Hershey’s bar atop the ruins there.

The majestic and famous view of Machu Picchu...not.

This is the sort of unparalleled stonework that allowed Inka buildings to stand for hundreds of years longer than modern technologies would allow...and the Inkas didn't even use mortar. And they're building on fault lines. And they didn't even invent the wheel!

I began to feel very afraid of disappointment during the tour, just because the rain and fog continued...I needed to see the picture in my head, in reality. The two had to meld together, or I might not feel like I had truly been there. It was scary how important this felt. And then? I ask Carolina, the Argentinian woman I shared a tent with on the hike, to take the first picture of me in the ruins. And my camera battery dies.

I had been so stupid to doubt my crazy paranoid fear of this happening to me! Taking pictures very sparingly on the hike had not worked! I could. Not. Believe it.

But I dealt with it very quietly. I think she assumed I had another battery. But no. I told myself, you will just ask Ana and Valeria to take a few pictures. You will email them, asking them to send the pictures to you. This does not matter. And that is how it was. I am even glad, because now I for certain will have contact again with them. And have a couch to sleep on in Buenos Aires, I think. Because we passed the morning at the café, huddling under an umbrella, drinking our cafecitos, laughing about how “Siempre tienes que pagar! Pagar! Pagar! Nunca en mi pais tienes que pagar para ir al baño! Nunca!” (It may not be much, but you have to pay, pay, pay, to travel here. Need to pee? Get your coin purse.)

And then the walnut I left for Inti on the highest pass paid off. The sun came out. We ran back in. And it was like I dreamed! I probably spent three hours just looking at it. This is the most personal part of my trip. I don’t know WHY I have been so transfixed with this place. I don’t even know that much about it (no one does). It is all intuitive. But along with being architectural geniuses, and an amazing people, the Inkas had something in common with realtors. Location, location, location. The site is cradled by mountains, in a place made for it. The condor shape of the ruins lies surrounded by mountains, the Urubamba river winds around all sides. It’s lower than all the surrounding mountains (perhaps why it wasn’t found until 1911) but still all alone, thousands of meters above the river. Especially because I had worked for it for 28 miles, I had a sense of the surrounding mountains, how it was connected to the highlands. And as my mom said while I was philosophizing about rationalizations for my mesmerization, Maybe it’s because it’s really beautiful.

It was totally fulfilling. Because for me, there is not another place on the planet that I have felt this way about. That I would travel to see like I have with Machu Picchu. I felt like a pilgrim, but to what I don’t know. I realized that I no longer need to do things just to prove that I can do anything I decide to do– I have done it, there’s nothing else like this. I DO need to do something with that knowledge. And I do need to travel more. It makes me learn, and it makes me feel gratitude.

SO. Tore myself away. Went to the town below the ruins. Found a hostel, with a private room and bathroom, for 20 soles. This is a great price, let me tell you (about $8). So I bought stuff to clean up (remember: I wore the same thing for three straight days, then got rained on) and food for dinner. Remembered I had no bowl for my yogurt/granola/banana. So I borrowed one from the too-complimentary, too-inclined-to-climb-the-stairs-behind-me hostel man Percy. Fine.

After eating, to the showers! I realize I have no towel, so I go down and rent one for five soles from Percy. Fine.

But then, there’s no hot water. So I get dressed, go tell Percy. He comes and checks (sort of creepy), changes the gas tank, still nothing. He says, ehhh, yeah, no hot water, this happens sometimes. Of course it does. Muchas gracias.

Then, I clog the toilet. Sorry. But it’s part of the story. And twice scare myself badly, trying to flush things down. Decide to leave it, no big deal, serves them right anyway for not having hot water.

I finally resolved to take a shower anyway, since I really needed it, and it wouldn’t kill me, and would probably make me feel better. But it was...colder than I could handle. Ice cold. I got soaking wet and got out.

I had just dressed and was combing my hair when Percy knocked and said the hot water was back. Of course it was. So even though I didn’t really want to any more, I took a shower. Dried with the wet towel. Dressed again, in the rain-damp clothes.

The best decision I made all evening was buying beer (A beer! Singular! Mi pastilla para dormir/sleeping pill.) Just didn’t know how much I would need it. Second best, buying an Inka Cola T-shirt, which I’m still wearing as I type back in Cusco, because everything was dirty and wet/is at the laundry. Very interesting that these little things, when they have a few kinks, can be so stressful. It was the most worked up I was for the whole trek. More than when my camera died in Machu Picchu before I even got a decent picture of myself there. There’s no profound reason that traveling makes you grateful for little things!

Tomorrow, to Iquitos. And I have no expectations. Therefore I expect to not be disappointed.

I’m back in a week. Thank you for reading. I hope it has been worthwhile. I am incubating a plan to have all of you come join me for photo/video-viewing, Peruvian food, Chilean wine, and trinket-distributing.

Love!

Two afterthoughts, in reference to my night in the hostel:
1) I yell “Shit!!!” at retrospectively appropriate moments. Unfunny moments.
2) That town was called Aguas Calientes (hot water).

The picture I took back in Cusco, while my laundry dried, after I tried to turn on my camera...and it turned on. It's a mystery...our guide said that Machu Picchu was a place of mysterious and holy energy, and that the energy was so strong people often had trouble with their electronics. Guess my camera died...then was reincarnated.

The joyful job search

I've been thinking about this job search of mine - and although it's really only been 5 weeks since I graduated, and three weeks of full-time job searching, I feel very positive about it. I am going to try to keep this feeling as long as possible-- as long as it takes. (I started writing this post a week and a half ago, and feel it bottled up inside me!)

Yeah, I'm unemployed with lots of debt. But actually, this job search is the luckiest situation I've ever gotten myself into. I have literally been working to get to this point since I was in high school and decided I wanted to do something about climate change for my career. And now I'm actually allowed and permitted and qualified to go searching for that one place that is just right for me. I believe I can find a job making our biggest problems less bad, and there are many job postings, not stars, in my eyes. Being able to go after what you want is a blessing.

How can a job search be joyful?

• Reiterating my qualifications in endless permutations is actually a positive experience. In the process I become extremely convinced of my suitability for the particular position. It feels good. The job search is joyful because the marketer in me comes out and has fun selling the product.
  
• This positivity is ego-boosting because upon reflection I think that my situation is a result of choices and resolutions that I made. I am well-qualified for the jobs I actually want; I have a well-rounded skill set, and this is thanks to my own decisions. I passed the exam for a technical position (that I now have an interview for)-- because the only Master's program I considered taking was the one that was half science. I knew it would be necessary. I was thinking ahead. The job search is joyful because it is intrinsically validating.
  
• I am constantly thinking about the opportunities that other people gave to me. My dad had worked with someone at New America, so I got an interview. My mentors and colleagues at New America handed me golden opportunity after golden opportunity-- to write, research, give presentations, manage projects...The list stretches all the way back, and I could never thank everyone who helped me (and they are still going to bat for me) enough. So the job search is joyful because it makes me feel gratitude.

The most joyful part about this search will of course be the end of it. Because:

1. I'm not always able to stay so positive-- uncertainty and financial insecurity is fuel for fears at those moments when I'm alone in my car, burning CO2, or awake at night, or checking my balances, and 
2. The selection of temptations at Urban Outfitters is truly heartbreaking in the summertime.

Lo mejor está por venir.

That moment you've been waiting for

Or series of moments.

That's what the Dean of SIPA said when the speeches were over and the hundreds of graduates were next up to walk across the stage. This was last Thursday, more than a week ago already. I have been thinking of all kinds of things that I should write about graduating.

Walking across the stage was exciting. I guess it's not surprising- the rest of the whole graduation thing is pretty much taken in stride except that solitary stride-handshake-and-pose. The various speakers did say things that resonated with me and that I remember still: that we didn't attend this school because we want to get rich and famous. That we are trained problem solvers, policy analysts, and managers... if I look back at the reason I attended the program, I know that was the goal. 

I've been comparing this program to how I've heard childbirth is-- it's painful, but as soon as it's over you just think about what the result was, and the bad parts fade. It's worth it. But I don't think I'll have another baby.

After graduation, we went for a picnic in Central Park:

The last two weeks have been filled with fun and family and friends. And New York. I've been to museums and memorials:

9/11 memorial

WTC 1

South Street Seaport

The Cloisters

 and plays:

4000 Miles. (I also saw War Horse tonight by myself)

 and sat in the park...watched Netflix...and eaten oh so much food. 

What's next for me? I go to LA next Thursday when my lease here in NYC is up. The boyfriend has an internship there for the summer, so I'll be applying for jobs there...From New York to New Work. It's probably going to be a weird and challenging transition. I need to create more wildest dreams.

Champagne before noon

Yesterday, two of the most significant and valuable experiences of this program came to a successful end, and were recognized.

In the morning, my workshop team had its final client briefing. I put an enormous amount of work into managing this team project-- I never once said, screw it. I never once gave up, stopped caring, or said it didn't matter. I cared and did my best every day. I really did lead this team to an amazing conclusion, and it feels amazing. It's so worth it. We provided clear and practical environmental and policy advice to a private conservation group in Patagonia...It was one of the biggest reasons this program has been such an amazing and invaluable experience. I brought champagne and gave a pink-themed presentation to my team about their awesomeness, complete with statistics about the project (Deadlines missed: 0. Emails sent: 450. Incidents of unproductive animosity: 0. Fucks that were given: Innumerable.) Then we had a fabulous lunch.

In the afternoon, the Earth Institute had a showcase for the interns and researchers who got funding this year-- my internship was paid for by their fund. I kind of went into a dream vortex when Jeff Sachs gave the introduction to a set of interviews with students working on climate change...and I was one of them. It was like, "Is this real life?" They are going to post the videos online soon...

Then, I went to the dentist and got myself matched with the right shade of tooth...in just over a week, I'll meet my right anterior lateral incisor for the first time ever! (By the way, dental implants are as weird as they sound. They surgically insert a hollow piece of metal, let your gums heal, uncap it, and screw in another piece of metal with a crown on it....wish me luck, and 80% acknowledgement goes to Obamacare.)

In the evening, I had a call in which what had been a potential job offer fell through...but good things are still in the works for me...and not even that could make the day a bad one.

My team and I after the Final program workshop briefing this Wednesday:

The whole bunch:

Who has time?

Not me.

But I wanted to give you an update. I miss giving you updates. Unsolicited Sharing!

I had my dental implant surgery last Friday. I was asleep for more than an hour, groggy for about a day, and just today am able to eat pasta. Good thing too- That's one of my main food groups.

I was selected to be Manager of 12 of my peers in our Workshop this semester. This is the capstone project of this program, and each team performs actual policy analysis work for an actual client. Hello opportunity, I'm Maria!! Our client is an organization called Patagonia Sur, and they want us to conduct a feasibility study to determine whether they should begin a REDD (a UN program, stands for Reducing Emissions from Deforestation and Degradation of Land) project in their lands in Patagonia, Chile. Here's a picture of Patagonia.

So I'm in charge of coordinating...everything. And it's so exciting and challenging. Surprisingly, especially based on last semester, I've been sleeping anyways!

Otherwise this semester hasn't really picked up yet. Still doing the internship...not doing enough job searching...ha! Job searching. Who has time for that? Not me!

Focus on the time you are in right now and don't try to be anywhere else. You will never be in the exact same place again, so learn as much as you can. If you have problems being strategic sometimes, like me, think about things you've done in the past that you don't want to repeat. And just make very small steps towards an idea, no matter how hazy, that will get you somewhere else. That is what I did to get here. I didn't ever say out loud, I can't do this. That part matters too.

I am rusty, as you can see. Too little razzmatazz in this post, and the insights are lite too. My creative energies are going elsewhere, such as to creating a Project Control Plan with 12 separate responsibilities and a calendar and ....a project that could help make the world a little bit better.

This is me today on the way to the post-op appointment. It's snowy and I can't smile because my lip got so swollen...it doesn't look swollen, but it's the gums, or something. They opened everything up!! Ick. Anyway I look more angsty than I am.

<3

I'm in for it

Look:

And it's only October. I am planning to go out on Saturday for Halloween...I got a knee-length black puffy coat just in time. 

I am dressing up: The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. I fell in love with Lisbeth Salander of the Millenium series. She's one of my biggest onscreen inspirations. She's brilliant, fierce, and tenacious. She's been brutalized in every way possible but is not a victim. 

And when she's on trial, wrongly accused of being insane and sociopathic, this is how she walks into the courtroom:

Then she proceeds to calmly blast dragon-sized holes in the abusive lies brought against her (by corrupt secret government agencies protecting ex-Soviet informers, of course, being that this incredible character is the anchor to a thriller series.) It's incredibly satisfying to see this person face their tormentors bravely, justly, without changing anything about herself because of what other people think. She's a big girl's role model.  It's funny- the only other powerful mainstream female character that is a role model to me for the same reason is Elle Woods: 

Maybe next year! (Oooh- And maybe next year I will have a puppy too!)

Anyway, the sad thing for me is that my hair is too long to get it into a mohawk. I tried last night, using industrial grade products, and it's not happening. I could cut my hair. But then, it's supposed to snow and rain, and I'm going to bars in Brooklyn. So I might just wear the rest of the costume. Plus the coat. 

I don't eat/ I don't sleep/ I do nothing but think of you

"You keep me under your spell"

Maybe the ideal scenario is that these words would describe a love interest. But my love interest is too far away to be keeping me from eating or sleeping. Instead, classes and thoughts of exams are doing this. That's the worst kind of mindset to have when not sleeping or eating- worrying. But dreams are to come. If you care to know where these particular lyrics came from, I am currently obsessed with everything about the movie Drive (linking to clips from the soundtrack- the preview gives too much away, and I want you to see it.) I would love to think that the music is the perfect accompaniment to this post too.

Today, I got an internship with the Lenfest Center for Sustainable Energy at the Earth Institute. If there were a dream within the dream of coming to study in this program, (a dream which apparently, when realized, precludes other kinds of dreams. When our biggest dreams come true, do we always lose sleep over it?) it would be to combine those esteemed and respected words with "communications" on my resume. It's exciting. It's ten hours a week. I can handle that right? If a second dream can come true, I can start being able to sleep again,  right?

Making new connections is good for me. That picture above is of my city from the Hudson River last night- I went with some of the other people in my program on a cruise put on by the School of International and Public Affairs. It was fun.

I've taught myself what a derivative is, and what the relationship between a first and second derivative tells you about individual preferences toward risk, and all kinds of other microeconomics factoids in the last few weeks. There is still a lot I don't know. I am still freaked out by the fact that I'm being tested on Lagrange multipliers- I was so wrong that I didn't need to learn math in high school. LESSON: learn as much as you can, while you can. Sometimes your wildest dream requires calculus.

One of the programs I will work to support at the Lenfest Center is called PositiveFeedback, and one of their upcoming events is a "dating game" event between artists and scientists. The concept is to "set up" artists and scientists, to see what kinds of influences and projects result. It's going to be at The New School for Design in Manhattan. I know a few artists, some with decades of dedication to various crafts behind them, and some with just a few years, who would make great dates. Aunt Margaret, it's on Thursday, December 1st. Alison, I know you just came out here....

I'm exhausted. Let's see how this literal dreaming thing goes.

The First Post About My Move to New York City

What, you didn't think I was done, did you? I've got to get my numbers up. Five posts? How will anyone ever take me seriously???

The Story About Columbia

I wanted it for years. I literally NEVER thought I would go to this program. I could tell you until I went hoarse how I really, seriously, honestly, only applied last November 1st because I knew that I had to do that application first, to get it out of my head, my heart, my system, and then move on to finding other grad programs. Other plans. I knew I had to do it--I was proud of myself for applying--I even convinced myself by the application date that I was perfect for the program. But I was not prepared to come home the day before Thanksgiving to an empty house, a Fedex envelope on the step, the glance at the return address that merely made me think "they don't Fedex rejections do they??" and then the crying that started as soon as I looked inside.

So here I am.

I have done essentially nothing so far to prepare for this move, other than squeal "New York!!" every time I see the city in a show or movie; I have received confirmation that I will get a housing offer from the university, but since I don't know when I'm moving, I don't know anything yet. Heck, it took me six months to write about it. I'm not worried though- For some reason, I feel like planning a trip to South America was a lot more of an undertaking than moving to New York City will be.

But I move to Manhattan by myself for at least a year in about 5 weeks.

I will miss people, and things. But for someone who lived a normal life in Sacramento, and worked and went to community college and transferred to San Diego and came back home and worked and then took a trip to Peru and then worked...It's the most exciting thing that I have ever made happen for myself.

So! What do I need, besides a backpack, a big puffy knee-length coat, and the restraint to keep myself from stopping at the top of the subway stairs and saying "Ooooooo look at the buildings!" (Just kidding, I know I am going to do that)? I already have the fancy MacBook Pro (thank you federal tax refund), the impractical purse, and loan applications nearing 100 grand.

This is an investment, right? A colleague and friend of mine, when once upon a time I shared my dreams of grandeur, said Columbia would be really hard to get into... "but a Master's degree from Columbia would be a really valuable thing." And I'm proud to say I think so, too. My head is worth it, and so is the Earth.