Although, perhaps, a clichè trip, a long hike up from Cusco to Machu Pichu is a must.Since the government needed to greatly restrict the Inca Trail, the Salkantay Trail is the sure way to the ruins. Fifty miles Northwest of Cusco stands, majestically, Mt. Salkantay, the snow-capped 'Savage Mountain.' Open and unrestricted, this trail allows the quiet solitude fitting of a hike considered sacred for generations. A definite challenge with thinning oxygen, the reward for losing one's breath is the breath-taking reality of the stones, still standing. By day two, the scenery drastically changes from dusty, dry city to glacier covered peaks and again tropical forests. Villages, like Collpabamba, are nestled amidst this proverbial paradise, bustling, in their own rite, with truly 'free-ranged' livestock, playful youth, and new, spicy aromas wafting up from random chimneas.
Tales of Wanderings Past We were the ones driving 4 hours to drive another 45 through the safaris... of Virginia. That obnoxious scream, that was the zebra. The laughter, bordering hysteria, that was us. . Virginia's Safari Park is only one of several attractions in Natural Bridge.
Tales from Wanderings Past Meanwhile, a contradiction in Native history, in Pocahontas, Iowa... We were the ones following a tip we received at the diner to find Ms. Pocahontas standing guard in front of her workforce assistance tee-pee. Just to clarify.... Pocahontas, whose story has been re-written for/by Disney-types, was from the Powhatan tribe, in the Jamestown Virginia area. They lived in long houses. Tee-pees, on the other hand, were used by the Plains tribes, who were more nomadic and needed a quick shelter. The Ioway people who actually lived in Iowa maintained a lodge (wigwam-esque) home more similar to the Powhatans than the tee-pee dwellers.
The sunlight drifting in through the cathedral's patterned windows casts rainbow shadows on the ancient stone floors ships one back through the centuries into a time built to last and inspire. Images of a Francophile's dream: the obligatory Eiffel Tower photos, enhanced only by the early sun and dusty air. The Montmatre Sacré-Cœur Basilica's awe-inspiring architecture and formidable spires really cause one's heart to be humbled and feel the 'sacred' power of such a structure. Along the rues and avenues, the perfumes of bakeries and fancy ladies swirl with the mirages cast by setting suns.
Tales from Wanderings Past... We were the ones takin the {very} long way home to wander through the amber waves of grain shouldering up to calm waters and rocky heights. Those people driving 10 hours out of their way to see a few of the million acres , that was us. Opting for a night in a hammock instead of the resorts... or even a tent, we relished in the bucolic surroundings, lionhearted against the creepy crawlies and wild beasts. The photographs of memories draw roads back to the park and outline plans for new road trips and returns.
At Glacier National Park I've read and heard so many people contend 2016 was the worst year ever--the news of favourite musicians and other famed people passing, political coups, wars and environmental calamities boiled into tragic soup. Truthfully, though, popular media does not dictate my moods or mental well-being. That being said, 2016 was a personally tough and non-stop year. I lost family, watched my town wash away, and moved-twice. Needless to say, my wanderlust wishlist for the past 365+ days was quickly erased. The past two weeks have been filled with a different kind of adventure.... calming down after a non-stop year, relaxing after a term of turmoil, settling in to a new home, new community, new life. A magnificent Christmas gift from my mother~ the birdfeeders are turning our {new} yard into woodland whimsy. We have been slowly filling our walls and unfilling our cardboard boxes. Finally finding our 1920's city cottage offered us a highlight amidst 2016's lowlights. Trying to rekindle our "Visit All the Festivals!" attitude, we enjoyed our first and only holiday celebration at Fredrick Meijer Gardens' Festival of Trees. Twinkling lights, feathers, and cultural collections welcomed us into an architectural triumph of a conservatory. We searched for the Svenskä tree, guarded by the trusty Jülbok, supersized. Elated to have talented friends, we were thrilled to receive this mosaic vase by Matt, the new co-owner of The Clayground in Old Ellicott City, and the St. Ignace Headwrap, lovingly handmade by one of my dearest friends, Gretchen, owner of Wild Violets. So, as we crawled into 2017, we settled in our new digs, drove aimlessly around the city, citing its charm and dug into a fit of Svenskä (Swedish) cooking. Bidding the old year adieu, and drafting a new Wanderlust Wishlist, I quote Lord Tennyson,
“Hope smiles from the threshold of the year to come, Whispering 'it will be happier'...” |
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