Life is a journey

Hard to convey what it feels like to wake up looking down on mountains and clouds. January 7, 2019 It's 6 a.m. and we are in the clouds. Literally. Mist all around us, and above and below, allows us only to see the mountains' silhouettes. It's magical. Yes, I'm sticky and dizzy (probably from the altitude, now, all of a sudden) and my breathing feels tight, but here we are just sitting in the middle of Andes mountains eating a delicious breakfast cooked, incredibly, on a camp stove, preparing to hike to 4,215 metres! Today we will reach the highest point of the trek, Warmyhuañusca in Quechua , or Dead woman's pass ,   at 4,215 metres. • 5 p.m. Today was basically Hell. A more than 1,000 metre ascent in the baking sun, then another 600 metre descent in the cold rain on wet, slippery rocks. We are soaked and the bathrooms are holes in the floor. I'm going to try to sleep. • 3:40 a.m. Again I've been up forever. It's painful

First stop: breakfast. Sunday, Jan. 6, 2019 Our guide, Marcos, and cook picked us up at 6:10 this morning. What do you know: We are getting a private tour just for the four of us. We didn't ask for it; that's just the way the cards fell. We loaded the mini-bus, piled in and headed for the hills. OK, mountains. Actually, we were already in the mountains as Cusco sits at 3,399 metres (11,152 feet) above sea level and is surrounded by mountains. In any case, off we went, winding and bouncing through the Andes to the soundtrack of both Andean flute ( quena or zampoña ) music and chicha, the Peruvian equivalent of cumbia. There really could be no better music to drive through South America to and no better setting in which to listen to that music. We were off to a good start. About an hour later we reached our first stop: a restaurant and general store just outside Ollantaytambo where we could buy breakfast (the only meal not included in the price of the trekking pac

View of Cusco from our bedroom window. The city, which sits in the heart of the country and the mountains, is the jumping-off point for all trips to Machu Picchu. Saturday, Jan. 5, 2019 We've arrived in Cusco, elevation 3,399 metres. The taxi ride from the airport was entertaining. First, as we exited and were confronted by the usual swarm of aggressive taxi drivers, Shane decided to turn the tables, suggesting "What if I just call out 'Taxi!'?" He did just that, and instantly an enthusiastic little man with quick reflexes zoomed around the rest of the throng faster than Speedy Gonzalez to take us and our bags to his car. We're quite sure he overcharged us, but he was friendly and informative, pointing out interesting landmarks along the ride. As the radio played Andean flute music we drove through dusty streets lined with vendors selling sacks of potatoes (Peru is home of the potato, of which they say there are more than 4,000 varieties), soft drin

New Year's Eve in Arequipa means fireworks. They are set off by anyone and everyone, all over the city,  beginning a couple of hours before midnight and continuing beyond. It's an impressive – and noisy – spectacle! Tuesday, Jan. 1, 2019 A new year. Last night, the whole city was lit up with fireworks. We were all too tired to go out anywhere to celebrate, so we just went out on the balcony … and it was amazing! Non-stop fireworks just everywhere. Mia, especially, was amazed. "I love this!" she exclaimed, eyes wide as the sky continually lit up all around and above us with lights and colours. Sandra and Coqui's dogs – two gorgeous huskies – were not so thrilled. Bush, whom we met and loved on previous visits, is 14, slowing down in his old age and was pretty much unfazed. Maya is 11 – like our Gidz back home – and much more attention-seeking. The incessant whistle-pop-boom of the New Year's pyrotechnics was really stressing her out. As for us h

From the Arequipa airport you get a great view of Chachani, the highest of the volcanic mountains that surround the city of Arequipa in southern Peru. Monday, Dec. 31, 2018 We have arrived! I don't want to see another airport anytime soon, that's for certain. Our flight from Montreal to our first stop in Cancún, Mexico, lacked leg room but was smooth and on time. We had an 11-hour stopover there and hoped we would be able to make a quick trip to the beach for a first taste of winter sun, but pouring rain and no way to store our luggage put a damper – so to speak – on that plan. So after clearing Mexican immigration and customs and finding the shuttle to Terminal 2 we spent countless hours at the airport's Guacamole Grill nodding off, nibbling and killing time, then eventually checked in, passed security and spent four more hours nodding off, nibbling and killing yet more time. We finally did leave Cancún and made it to Lima on a cramped, uneventful la