Maddness

After much debate, discussion, and research, I have come to a very educated and important conclusion:

The Incas were crazy.

Then after what I did yesterday, I've discovered something else:

I'm worse than they were.

To demonstrate why, let me tell you a story. I have to admit up front that I'm a little disappointed about my limited time and my limited ability with word manipulation, because I feel like I won't be able to paint a very accurate represention of my near death (don't worry parents, I'm okay now) experience. But let's give it a go, shall we?


Now to start off, I would like you to think back to 8/12/10 around 10:00pm. What were you doing? Maybe watching tv? Eating? Checking your facebook? Normal night stuff, right? Want to guess what I was doing? I'll tell you: Getting out of bed to start my day. "But Lila," you must be thinking, "You're time difference isn't that much. What time was it for you?"

It was 2:00am.

There's a hike that you can do to watch Machu Picchu at sunrise from the big hill behind it. I heard that it was worth it, so I decided to do it. I know I'm a lot slower than the average bear, so I left an hour early to give myself extra time.

I walked a long way in the pitch black (thank you for the headlight!!!) until I got to the entrance to the gate to Machu Picchu at the bottom of the hill. Where I realized I forgot my ticket. And also learned that they don't even open the gates to start the hike unitl 4:45. So I walked (hiked!) back to my hostal, got my ticket, and returned. It was now about 4:30 already.

When the gates opened and they started letting people in, I started what I thought would be a nice hike to the top.

No.

Chris, Kerry (save his ankle), or Stuart would have been completely fine.

I was a different story.

I had to stop often to catch my breath. And not in a "oh, I just jogged around the track, so I need to catch my breath" type of way, but more in a "Holy Crap! This must be what an asthma-attack-feels-lile-I-can't-breathe" type of way.

After awhile, I was in the back. Which I didn't really mind because a) there weren't THAT many people climbing, b) I liked going at my own pace, and c) I liked being able to turn off my flashlight during my breaks and be in pitch black. That's kind of cool.

Can I just say that THANK GOD that it was dark, because if it had been light enough for me to see what was in front of me, there's no way in heaven, hell, or opposite land that I even would have CONSIDERED doing what I did. No fricken' way.

I really can't describe it better than to say that it's by far the hardest and stupidest thing I've ever done. I keep thinking that I would have topped myself and leave it like that (applying to 24 colleges, climbing the highest mountain in Ghana when I was really wickedly sick - TWICE, climbing the Great Wall in China when I was super sick. . . .), but no! This tops it all.

Oh! AND I have a theory. You know those guys who climb Mt. Everest without oxygen? I reckon that they just forgot it. Because I did that stupidly huge mountain without water. I heard that you couldn't bring food or disposible water bottles into Machu Pichu, so I didn't bring any. Turns out you can.

And when I got to the top - FINALLY - just before 6, I was met not with the sunrise over Machu Picchu, but with a line to get into Machu Pichu.

Needless to say, I was confused. But that's what happens when you don't do your homework.

So I joined the others in the line. Some of them were fellow hikers, others were getting off the busses that were just arriving.

The first 400 people in like got to do the hike to Wayna Picchu, which is what I thought I just climbed. When the guy came around and asked me if I wanted to go at 7 or 10, I said 7 (I wanted to get it over with), the person next to me said 10 and he stamped their ticket and moved on.

I was a little concerned about not getting a stamp, but I figured it was noting. Maybe only 10:00 people got stamps.

So I entered Machu Picchu and explored as I made my way over to the entrance to the Wayan Pichu climb (just so you know, I'm spelling that completely wrong). I shot up a quick prayer. "If I'm supposed to go, let me get in. If I'm not, let me need a stamp."

Well, turns out I needed a stamp. After waiting in line for a half out and making friends with a lot of people in the line, there were cries of outrage (seriously!) when I got turned away.

But I knew it was for the best.

I don't know why, but I still found a deserted corner and cried for 5 minutes. It was uncharacteristic of me, but I was tired.

So instead of climbing another stupidly big mountain, I explored Machu Pichu, which was really, really cool. I could tell you more about it, but I'm running out of time and you can look at it online. I want to tell you more about the story specific to me.

Around 11:00, I decided that it was time for me to go home. "What? So early?" You forget that a) I had been there for 5 hours already, b) I had no food, c) I had climbed a giant mountain, and d) I was scared of passing out.

So I made my way to the riduculously expensive and long bus ride down the hill. While sitting on the bus, I reflected on what a blessing it was that I didn't get my ticket stamped. If I had, honestly, something bad might have happened. It's a dangerous trail, and I wasn't up to facing it. I most likely would have had to be air lifted out, which, as cool as it would have been, would have also been expensive and inconvenient.

So I went home at 11:00. Got food from the first place I saw (I ate alpaca), and went to my hostal. I was in bed before 1:00 and didn't get out until my alarm woke me up at 8:20am this morning.

Wow.

Now really quickly, I'm going to see if there's a picture of what I climbed. Then I have to go.

Nope, can't find one. They probably do that on purpose for some werid reason. But try looking up the hike from Aguas Caientes to Machu Picchu.

Love you!!!