Crossing Lines

As they say, ¨a door has closed¨ and I am not at all sure about the one that has opened.

The rest of my group left this morning for Lima, and I moved my stuff (which I see has grown a good deal heavier of late) down the slippery stone hill to a hostel called The Point. Not sure what it is the point of, or what the point is, but it is a 7 dollar room- even if I am sharing it with 9 other people.

There is something unsettling about the end of a trip like this. This morning I woke at the same time and packed my bag at the same pace as C., just for old time´s sake. Strange to be getting 10 second hugs and then watching them all pile into the van and leave me behind. Suddenly I am alone and the day is gaping before me. I don´t know how to fill a day on my own... true I spent the vast majority of my days solo wandering, but it was different, somehow.

I walked and walked and walked, up and down and around the same streets until I had lost all sense of direction. Must kill time until 6, when my laundry is ready. The hostel has lost my reservation, but it´s alright. They put me in a room called VIP. I put down my stuff and go out again.

Go three times to the internet. Look through my contacts list and remind myself that these people are still out there, even though I cannot see them now. I get lost in a market. I write the travel agent and think about making a plan for the coming days. I make excuses.

Cuzco really is a captivating city. It is filled with dentists. And everyone eats ice cream in tiny little cones, even though it is icy in the shade. There is a lot of food in Peru.
I become more and more disgusted with tourists. This word already has a stigma attached to it, but I find myself debating at one point if travel, whatever you call it, does not do more harm than good? The restraunt we went to for our final dinner will not allow Peruvians inside. The street is filled with aggresive children holding postcards and watercolours. Twice today I saw a teenage girl carrying a baby llama in a shawl ¨One sole foto!¨ I wondered what would happen to this llama once it got to big to be carried. Probably the same as the girl carrying it, as the whole culture based on, and dependent on, tourists.
Take for example the iconic South American hat, called a chullo. This is the number 1 gringo accessory, they sell them everywhere ¨Seniorita, alpaca!¨ I can count on one hand the number of times I have seen a local wearing one. Not just this, but the llamas, the andean cross, even the whole Inca fetish starts to seem a little sordid. Of course this is not unique to Peru, but perhaps the poverty you see (provided you can drag yourself away from the truly sickening Gringo Ally) make it more alarming. By sustaining and indeed promoting the images that we already associate with this place are they not backing themselves into a corner? Tourism becomes their culture, everything is aimed at the foreigner, at the dollar. Should any culture be worth only what it can sell for?

Now I am back at the hostel, which is quite comfortable, and filled with half naked guys (stupid- it´s freezing out!). Someone asks to borrow my journal to do cocaine on. I thought they were joking. Just another fascinating cultural experience.

N.