the coca leaf is legal here
because the most it does
is give you about as much of a jolt as a cup of coffee
and numbs your mouth (if you chew it correctly)
it is illegal to bring any coca products
(leaves, teas, candies)
back with us to the US
white people…
with some words being recognizable
between Quechua and Japanese
humanity may be more closely
connected
than i thought
my other musings
on Machu Picchu
paint a picture
that may not be entirely accurate
i loved the stones
and the vastness
and the hike
and the mountains
i took hundreds of photographs
i smiled as i touched stones
stones that were put together so many years ago
houses that people lived in
and my brain began to wander
will there be a residence of mine
that will end up an archaeological site
will future generations walk the train tracks
the way they devoutly follow the IncaTrail,
still on their way to see ancient Machu Picchu
can it last, with the number of tourists
increasing every day?
(i wanted to sit and absorb the history
the spirituality
but my sunburn was getting worse
and the other people felt too close
and centuries away,
so we left and ate amazing food
and i pined for Machu Picchu
as our train followed those tracks
away)
when coming to Machu Picchu
many people call it a
‘bucket list trip’
to be there
to hike the entire Inca trail
it has also been called
‘a professional photographer’s dream’
and
‘spiritual’
but what happens when the busses
splattering mud
spewing diesel
cart tourists up and down that winding mountain road
all day long?
are we really experiencing something fantastic
before we die?
recording in image the beauty of long ago?
connecting spiritually to the past?
or are we simply a cog in a (money-making) machine?
how much of our respective ‘esposos’ can we talk about
and laugh
before the commonalities become apparent
and our wedding rings begin to look too similar?
(on homosexuality being illegal
but not necessarily punishable)
if my feet could pound air into my lungs
the way they pound steps into the ground
i wouldn’t suspect i have asthma.
kissed by a llama
hiking towards Machu Picchu
must be good luck
no photos, respect the dead
but they are on display
give a donation, place a sol coin above the glass enclosure
they’ve called home since being dug up
but i could be in this room for hours
the archaeologist inside tearing out of me from my eyes
feasting on the leathery look of preserved skin
noticing where hair is still visible, stuck to the skull
counting the exposed tendons from toe knuckle to nail
and I want to know more
and feel more
and taste…
i am not a professional archaeologist
but for a moment in that room i could almost feel
what might have been
outside of our door
the sidewalks don’t fit two people consistently
when passing
we often hop into the road
outside of our neighborhood
the tourists get talked into
buying trinkets
(that may or may not be truly Peruvian)
or hearing about tours
they’ve probably already booked
but
if you simply acknowledge them
and say ‘no, gracias’
they say ‘thank you’
back
outside of Cusco
the Andes roll
and reach
to the sky
and i can feel in my lungs
that we are also closer to the sky
kipventures 