“We tread upwards as wind starts to whistle and pellets of ice snap and pop against our bodies. My pack’s straps dig warmly into the collarbone, comforting in their friction, its weight providing a break against mountain winds that seek to remind us where we are. Lungs are nicely straining, and one of the mountains’ great and ever-present lessons is reinforced: cooperate or perish.”
“We are just outside the Andean village of Chawaytiri—meaning Village of the Llama, or Eye of the Llama—that sits at 12,000 feet in the highlands, just 50 kilometres from Cusco in the Sacred Valley of the Incas. We are ascending—always it seems, we ascend. Amid the haze and the coca, the pathway beneath me looks brittle and almost decrepit. Maybe forgotten is the right word; it looks forgotten.”
“Long necks bobbling like swans on the grasslands and the chiming of bells—our llama caravan ahead eats up swaths of dry terra and bounces over the wide land. Their ambling is the only thing that stirs up the landscape. The llamas’ necks crane for whatever succulents they can find while they move.”
“A ride through downtown Lima reveals endless chifa restaurants, bakeries, cebicherias, outdoor markets and street food stands. In a process impossible to recreate, Peruvian cuisine has evolved from centuries of varied cultural influences to make it what it is today: a mouthwatering flavour explosion hardly found anywhere else.”
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