We arrived safely in Iquitos in time to enjoy an ice cream treat before being transferred to the airport. I gave the Parkinson kids each $2 for their spotting efforts on the bus ride. A few minutes later I realized Lily was crying because she hadn’t gotten anything—I’ll true up with them later. Andrew and Lily just had to pet the cats at the office—hope they didn’t catch anything! What a magical experience!
We thought we had plenty of time, but we waited for probably an hour for the other boat to arrive after their clinic stop and then the airport was chaos. Trying to find the right line, working through 3 different reservations for my family, none of which could be checked in on-line, and 1 of which won’t pull up on the kiosk. Mom checks a bag, and we probably ought to, but I can’t stomach paying to check 8 bags, when they can be carried on for free. Keeping track of 8 or 9 passports and boarding passes through all the checkpoints is an accomplishment in itself. Later in the trip, I wrote everyone’s names on a sticker on the back of the passport so I could tell whose was whose without opening each of them. It is hard to manage a large group in the shape-shifting South American lines. We made it, phew!
From Iquitos we flew back over the Andes to Lima. In Lima you have to exit the airport altogether to get to your connecting flight. That of course necessitates more COVID protocols and sanitizer spray. I followed the route we had taken through the airport our first time which added a few minutes and then I sent them ahead while I bought empanadas for a dinner snack on the plane. By the time we got through security to the gate after convincing them I didn’t really need to show them boarding passes from the last flight and filled out yet another health affidavit we were about the last ones to board. Harper was panicking on the plane and I was able to calm her by sharing animal pictures on my camera from the Amazon. The kids and I were amused by how many people would watch videos on the plane without headphones and with the volume quite loud. In the Cusco airport we waited for mom’s luggage and the kids to take a potty break before bidding farewell to the Parkinsons and wishing them well on their forthcoming death march.
I walked out the door and was relieved to hear someone call my name from across the street. I wish we had been able to land in or depart from Cusco in daylight but it wasn’t to be. Our luggage filled a car and we climbed into a van. Oswaldo, our guide, introduced himself and tried generally unsuccessfully to orient us to the city on the drive to the hotel because his microphone hardly worked. When we reached the colonial era part of the city the streets narrowed dramatically and were made of the Peruvian version of cobblestone. Our driver had to ask another truck to move at a small square in front of the Templo del San Blas. With the additional space we were able to make about a 5 point 90 degree left hand turn down the one way lane. The narrowness of the way required precision with only a few inches to spare from scraping the building walls. Half a block down we were delivered to the Amaru Inca Hotel. For subsequent pick ups we met on the wide street a block closer to the Plaza de Armas. I’m sure the building has its own fascinating history that dates back several hundred years. Our rooms opened onto a garden courtyard with a nice view of the city’s red-tiled roofs in one direction. We were only 2.5 blocks from the Plaza de Armas. The rooms thankfully had thick blankets to protect against the mountain chill as I’m not sure I ever felt heat from the pipes that were supposedly on from 7:00 PM to 7:00 AM. Our bathroom had a mix of exposed stone and plaster and a vaulted 15’ ceiling that must have a story behind it.
Oswaldo didn’t want us to go hungry, or perhaps miss a chance for a commission and directed me to a nearby pizza joint for a late dinner as it was 8:30 and the city was under a 9:00 curfew. I had visions of the disgusting pizza Brad and I had ordered in Aguas Calientes in 2013 but relented since it was close and I wasn’t really hungry anyway. Walking the block up hill reminded me that we were now at 11,152 feet and I struggled to keep up with Oswaldo. The restauranteur spoke great English and could not have been more gracious as I ordered pizza, salad, and some chicken and potatoes just in case. I bid Oswaldo farewell and waited for the food before delivering it to our hungry brood. To my surprise the pizza earned rave reviews but I was more than contented with the other food. A long day of travel came to an end with full bellies snuggled deep into our beds knowing that a 5:40 AM departure awaited us in the morning. I had a mild altitude caused headache and found myself awake in the night forcing myself to take deep breaths through my nose to fill my lungs.
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