Nothing good can come from this...

It's a movie now.

Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert.  I remember when the book came out.  Every woman you saw had a copy of that book glued to her hand for a while there.  They all tried to get me to read it.  "It's so inspiring," they would say.  "It's so brave, and honest.  You absolutely have to read it.  It's, it's... it's life-changing!!"

Needless to say, I was skeptical.

I went to a bookstore, flipped through a few pages, and was unimpressed.  Seemed like a bunch a self-indulgent, new-age nonsense.  I put the book back on the shelf and forgot about it.

Last year when I went to Peru, I befriended a lovely mother and daughter from Washington, DC while traveling in the Amazon jungle.  We became quite close, and when we parted ways in Cusco the night before I was heading to Machu Picchu, the mother pressed a book into my hand.  "Here," she said, "Take this.  I'm finished with it and I would like you to have it."  It was a copy of Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert.  I smiled, put it in my bag, and forgot about it.

A couple of days later, I broke my knee, you probably know the story, and I was in the hospital and in serious pain with nothing to do.  All the books and magazines were in Spanish, and I'm much too lazy to learn Spanish, regardless of how much I enjoy traveling in Spanish-speaking countries.  Same with the flat-screen TV I had in the room, all Spanish.  I don't watch TV anyway.  So I decided to pull out my copy of Eat, Pray, Love and see what Miss Elizabeth Gilbert had to say.

I read the entire book during my two-night stay, and in retrospect it was probably the perfect book to read under such circumstances because halfway through the first chapter I completely forgot about how much pain I was in because I wanted to smack the fuck out of Elizabeth Gilbert.

For those who have been under a rock and are unfamiliar with the book, let me sum it up:

It's a book about this stupid, whiny, petulant bitch crying and moaning about being thrown into an emotional tailspin and crippling depression all because she had to make the hugely selfish decision to leave her husband for no good reason other than he wanted to have kids and she didn't, preferring to pursue her own career and her own happiness, living a life of pure self-indulgence.  So she leaves her husband, who has been a perfect husband and hasn't fucked her over at all, and the emotional ramifications of this selfish decision were so great that Miss Gilbert, after fucking some hot, young actor for a while, is forced to take a year off to spend four months in Italy eating, four months in India praying, and four months in Indonesia "loving," whatever the fuck that means, because Miss Gilbert makes a huge declaration in the beginning of this adventure that SHE'S NOT GOING TO HAVE SEX AT ALL FOR THE WHOLE ENTIRE YEAR, so of course, she has sex with some guy she meets in Indonesia.  She also shrewdly convinces some publishing company to fund this little sabbatical for her, so she can write a book for them about it later.

Incidentally, Miss Gilbert also makes a huge declaration at the end of the book that SHE'S NEVER GETTING MARRIED AGAIN EVER.  She now has another book out about how, surprise surprise, she's married.  Hmm.  I'm sensing a pattern here.  Next will be her huge declaration that SHE'S NEVER, NEVER HAVING KIDS, EVER.

It was one of the worst books I'd read in a long time.  I considered writing my own version, entitled Eat, Drink, Fuck, but it looks like someone beat me to it.  Fucker.

So now they've made it into a movie, and women across the country will be leaving their husbands for no good reason and trying to go find themselves in foreign countries.  And people will again say how brave she was to make that painful decision, and how amazing and strong she is for getting past that debilitating depression and I will want to smack the fuck out of them.

I would love to see what would happen to Miss Gilbert if life tossed some real problems her way.  Because there are far worse things that could happen to a person besides leaving your husband for a young, hot actor who's awesome in bed.  Trust me on this one.

Lazy day

Salvación, Peru

            

Dining!

Somewhere on the road to Ollantaytambo, Peru
August, 2009

It was a beautiful two-hour journey to Ollantaytambo.  My driver was all personality, regardless of how little English he spoke, and was extremely patient (and amused) with my pathetic grasp of basic Spanish.

"¿Foto?  ¿Aquí?"

He was also very patient and accommodating of my desire to stop for pictures...

          


We were having a lovely afternoon.  He asked if I was a vegetarian.  ¿Que?  Apparently he knew a place that had good chicharrones, did I want to stop?

For chicharrones?  What's the Spanish word for always?

            

Seriously.  Best fucking chicharrones ever.  Big, fatty hunks of pork drenched in even more fat.  The most flavor you can fit on a fork.  Red onion relish, plump, juicy corn, spicy peppers.  Sr. de Huanca has got it figured out.  The "two pigs fucking" logo is just an extra bonus, really.  Like lagniappe...

  

Wanderlust...

Paucartambo, Peru
August, 2009


Tiny little town right on the Rio Paucartambo.  I'm unclear on which came first, the town or the river.  Beautiful place.  Stopped for lunch on the way out to the Amazon.  They have a big, Mardi Gras style festival every year in July, Fiesta de la Virgen del Carmen.  Complete with costumes, parades, and parties in the streets.  Need to make it back for that someday...

                  

                            

Dining!

One cannot think well, love well, or sleep well if one has not dined well.  ~Virginia Woolf

Guinea pig.  Peru.  Sort of reminded me of duck.  The  head is the best part.  Mmmm, guinea pig...

Eye Candy

Manu National Park, Amazon rainforest, Peru.  Now this puts the 'lust' in wanderlust... For the straight girls and the gay boys.

 Yum.

Eye Candy photos are always mine. Recognize, bitches!

Adventures in Peruvian medical care

Or, Las aventuras en el cuidado médico Peruano

First of all, let me say that whatever Peruvians are lacking in technology, they make up for in love.  Especially those ladies at the medi-center on top of the mountain.  There was really nothing they could do for me, so they gave me lots of hugs and kisses.  The nurses at the hospital, very hands on.  Lots of hugging and saying soothing things in Spanish.

It wasn't the horror show you might imagine, although the equipment wasn't exactly new, and things were pretty casual.  When the orthopedic specialist came to see me, he introduced himself by his first name.  Alvaro.  Rosa, the doctor who came with me from Machu Picchu did the same when we met.  Check out the rusty wheels on the x-ray stand.  And what's with those wooden steps!  See the girl in the doorway?  That was the X-ray technician.  She looks like she's on her way to the movies!

And check out Rosa, my doctor!  She's hot!  And she's wearing jeans and a tight top!

I didn't realize they weren't going to give me painkillers until I asked for them.  You're paying for everything out of pocket, and unfortunately, most Peruvians are broke.  Meanwhile, at the ER here in SF, they force-fed me vicodin and morphine the minute I walked in the door.  Well, maybe not FORCE-fed.

Anyway, they even asked me before taking the X-rays!  They were like, "Are you sure? Because it's 60 soles?"  Which is like twenty bucks.  Go ahead.  Take ten.

So, they never offered painkillers and I didn't think to ask.  Once Rosa was gone and I was alone and all the adrenaline wore off, the pain came on.  Hard.

When the nurses came in I was howling in pain.  They finally hooked me up to an I.V. of I don't know what but it knocked me the fuck out.  Which was exactly what I wanted.

After that, things were pretty much fine.  They kept the pain meds coming and let me use the internet to email the exciting news to my ride from the airport and work.  I was even considering having the surgery to fix it right there in Cusco.

Until the apple incident.

I will say, I did notice that they weren't exactly diligent about using rubber gloves.  Which is quite different from the U.S., where they won't come within 50 feet of you without a biohazard suit.  But I was still surprised when a nurse strolled into my room to ask me a question while she was eating an apple.  OK, whatever.  I went with it.  I asked her if someone could unhook the tube from my I.V. needle and help me to the bathroom.  She said sure, and went ahead and did it herself.

With the apple still in her hand.

I wish I were making this up.  And really, what could I say?  Their house, not mine.  Fuck it.

What's that?  You want to slice my knee open and put it back together again?  Well, only if it won't interrupt your lunch...

A tale of two sunsets

Manu National Park, Amazon rainforest, Peru  http://www.amazontrailsperu.com/

Another beautiful day in the jungle.  Scandalously steamy, millions of creatures all with their voices raised in a deafening cacophony of... peace, believe or not.  I felt nothing but peaceful.

We started at one of those clay licks, where the macaws gather to chow down in the early morning hours:

Then a day on the water:

 

We climbed to a platform on top of a tree for a bird's eye view:

 A perfectly perfect day.  Heading to the boat that would take us down the Madre de Dios river and back to our lodge, I saw this:

Wow.

         ____________________________________________________________________

Tony Knowles Coastal Trail, Anchorage, Alaska  http://www.trailsofanchorage.com/

My first day in Anchorage is always exciting.  It usually feels like there's a beehive in my belly.  I know good things are about to happen.  Today was no different.  I had just landed, and had over two weeks of wandering to look forward to.  Plus, I was flying up to Nome in the morning!

Gary picked me up and brought me back to his place, where I refreshed myself on the house rules:

Got it.  I think.  No guns on the floor, right?  And check your... wait a minute...



I got to my favorite spot and made myself comfortable.

Gary tossed me the keys to his extra truck and said, "Here! I gotta go back to work!  Have fun!  See ya!"

Gary is awesome.

 I enjoyed the sun for a while, then decided to go pie-rootin.  If you don't know what pie-rootin is, email me for a definition.  wanderlust613(at)gmail.com  Maybe I'll post one on here someday, for all you non-New Orleanians out there.



So I drove downtown, went here and there, up and down, hither and yon.  Saw this somewhere along the way, which I took as a very good sign:

When it got later in the evening, I decided to go to Earthquake Park.  Being outside is the whole point of going to Alaska, and I wanted to try to spot a moose.  That area is a good place to find one, especially at dusk, or Alaska's version of dusk, anyway.

I love moose.

So I wandered all over Earthquake Park, up and around, in and out.  Found lots of moose tracks, but no moose.  So I decided to walk along the Coastal Trail, maybe I could at least spot a pretty sunset.  I love the Coastal Trail, it's one of my favorites things about Anchorage.  I found this helpful sign:

Thanks Bill!












Walking around a bend, I came across this.  Jackpot.

Heading back to the truck, the bees in my belly were starting to wind down.  The tingle will never completely leave as long as I'm in the state, but it gets drowsy sometimes.  The air smelled like trees and the wind was so quiet.  As I pulled out of the parking lot, look who was having a snack across the street!

As I drove up Northern Lights Blvd., heading to Baxter, the buzzing in my belly was starting again.

How I broke my knee in Peru

OK, here's what happened to my knee, more or less.

It was my second day at Machu Picchu, and I had gotten to the top of the mountain early, in time for the sunrise. It was a beautiful day, and I was looking forward to wandering around the ruins some more.

After a few hours, I found myself in a lovely little spot, quiet and free of people. I was coming down some stone steps, at the bottom was a two or three foot drop to the ground. The final steps were in the shade, still damp from the morning mist. When I put my foot on the last one, it slipped out from under me and straight to the ground. All my weight on one foot. My knee buckled and I went down. I knew immediately that my knee was fucked.

The pain made me dizzy.  After a few minutes I tried to walk.  Not happening.  My knee buckled, pop pop pop!  So I sat there, half crazed on endorphins and adrenaline, thinking if I sat there and rubbed it for a while, I'd be able to drag myself back to the entrance, where there was a first aid station.  So I sat there, massaging my knee and taking in the view.  I even took a couple of pictures.

Eventually, I realized I wasn't making it back to the entrance without help.  Irony of ironies!  I spent all day trying to get as far away from the crowds of people as I could, and now I desperately needed someone, anyone, to walk by, or at least come within shouting distance.  After what seemed like forever, I saw some people and yelled for them to send some help.

So I had to be carried back to the entrance by four Peruvian men, which is really not a bad way to get off a mountainside.  There was a fifth young man named Angel (I'm not kidding) whose job was to hold my hand and keep me from freaking out.  Keep in mind, I had just fallen on a wet rock.  What was to stop THEM from falling on a wet rock?   I was a little nervous.

At the entrance, they couldn't do much but give me an ace bandage, a pain pill, and arrange to get me back to Cusco and into a hospital.

I had to take a bus to the bottom of the mountain, about a half hour ride.  My luggage was being stored at the hostel.  I couldn't walk, and there were no crutches.  Anywhere.  What the fuck?  If, as the doctor said, this sort of thing happens all the time, how could they NOT have a pair of crutches?!?!  And I was traveling alone.  So, the doctor carried my luggage, and the dude from the hostel carried ME, three blocks uphill to the train station.  After a two hour train ride, where Rosa (the doctor) and I had plenty of time to bond, we arrived in Ollantaytambo and this was waiting for me...

                                   

Another two hour ride, all the way to Cusco, where Rosa and I had even more time to bond.  This is Rosa.

                                    

In Cusco, I had some X-rays and was brought to a hospital room.  Before leaving, Rosa brought lunch, a chocolate rose with a get well card, and her MOTHER in to meet me!  I love Rosa.  Her and I still stay in touch, through email.

This all happened on Saturday.  I was scheduled to leave Peru Monday morning.  My diagnosis was a broken knee that needed surgery.  For reasons I'll get into in a later post, I chose to fly back to San Francisco on Monday as planned and have the surgery there.

All in all the hospital stay wasn't bad.  They kept me comfortable and out of pain as best as they could.  My room was huge, and had a beautiful view!

Flying home was a fun adventure.  Three different flights, Cusco to Lima, Lima to San Salvador, San Salvador to SF.  All with a broken knee.  And a handful of Peruvian pain pills.  Mostly I slept.  Otherwise I was in a daze.

The emergency room in SF had the same diagnosis, tibial plateau fracture, need surgery to fix it.  They gave me morphine.  Everyone loves morphine!  Sent me home, had surgery that Friday.  Been at home ever since, more or less.  I still get out to play now and then.  I can't sit still for long.

Coming soon, more stories about the ups and downs of Peruvian medical care!