As Promised: Not Cake, but our Peruvian Named Willy

An Open Letter to Willy, the Best Guide Ever.

Dear Willy,

Remember when we first met, and Dan and I immediatly liked you? Yeah, I think it was your teeth, you have an awesome smile. Or maybe it was your voice, you have most sonorous pipes. No no, it was the way you are just easy going and definitly trust worthy. You were the best guide our (little) money could buy. }And that was the best thing for sure, you didn´t feel like a paid for companion, ho, ho! no hustler here!, you just fit into our company like a pro.

I find you to be a stellar example of your countrymen. Peruvians all groove with goodness: laughing hearts and hearty handshakes have convinced me of the human-ness that befits this culture. Have I ever met someone so humble and still so full of machismo? You wait on us at table, conceed to our tourist schedule, give in to our offers of alcohol, and blush at our compliments. Yet you hit on women with no avail, call us babies (jokingly) as we acsend mountain tops, and wear the same clothes for four days! Such duality intrigues me!

Thank you for leading the way as we pedaled up and down the unpaved mountain side of Cusco. I gotta say, that bike ride was amazing! I can´t belive how quickly we decended thousands of meters. I felt like we ravaged enough squawking country chickens, dirt dusty pigs, wool wrapped children to last a lifetime. Never have they seen such speed and agility on two wheels! Wee! Gnats in my eyes, wind in my ears, dust in my mouth, nothing has ever felt so fully fantastic with grimmy goodness!

Onto paths and byways, our boots and sneakers hit the rocky roads with certainity behind your led. From one Peruvian tourist to another, I was awed at your certainly of direction. Tourism is graced with your knowledge of the hidden streets, goat paths, and sweet shortcuts. Plus you know everything! How high? How long? What is? What was? Even if you made it all up, it doesn´t matter, you convinced me!

Plus you promised us a monkey. Just one. And Martine was there, riding the back of a Peruvian women: You dubbed him our mascot. His little monkey fingers were so curious and felt like little rubber vices around our arms. And his teeth! They were so jarring to my ear! Ah! BE WARNED OF BITING MONKEYS! But he was so cute, just a baby, aww, nibble my ear and have half my Snickers, it´s okay!

More trekking showed us our best day: face paint with orange berries and frisbee in natural hot springs. It felt soooo good to get the day off our skin and our pack´s weight off our backs. Geez, what´s better than sipping cold beer in hot water after a sweaty day of climbing, clamoring, and chugging? Nothing! Well, except dinner, that was pretty good.

Up next, a bus ride to hurry us to Aquas Calitanas; a faked passport number to cross the bridge, and a steep ascend to view Machu Picchu from a neighboring mountain. I wish you could have gone with us to Machu Picchu. We really wanted you to, especially after we met our ¨specialized¨guide, Ricado. No candor, no wit, just a canned exposé on one of the Wonders of the World. He was a jerk, I didn´t like him, Dan didn´t dig him, so we dashed for the heights of Huanu Picchu. Higher than the day before, my legs ached a little, but not as much, as we steped up ancient pathways to view the miraculous city of 1532.

Willy, you promised that climb to be more trechorous than the one before. Perhaps I was just so scared of the oncoming pain, that I just didn´t feel it because I psyched myself out. Or maybe I got stronger over the night! Or maybe, does it mean you´ve never actually climbed Hauno Picchu. It´s a trip for the body as well as the pocket. It´s expensive to get there, and you don´t get a discount. It´s 45 bucks no matter which way you nationality slices it. I love you country. It´s poor, I´m rich. I´m sorry, I feel bad. Am I keeping you from your nation´s treasures because of my seeming affluency? Ah Christo, I´d sponser you to see such a majestic treasure!

I was disheartened to say goodbye. Man, you are a great guy. Let´s meet again, okay? Really, I meant it when I said to come visit me in New York. We can trek the crazyness of Manhattan on sidewalks; scale the heights of its towers via elevators; and eat the really expensive street food!

Willy you are the master mechanic of bikes (you fixed my snagged derailed, no sweat!), sage leader of Incan trails (we never got lost on any foot path!) and great forger of fruit (I didn´t know oranges, mandrians, mangos, pineapples, paypaas, and cocoa grew in such abundance!), and by the end, you were our friend. Certainly a gem in any Incan trove, your kind nature has compelled me to savor this country a little longer. So I´ll stay!

Besoes,

Frances, the American girl whose name sounds like a country you´ve never been to.