Our Father who art in Heaven

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So often in my life, I am ready - perhaps a better word is anxious - for the next thing, the next transition, the next change. But, leaving Cochabamba last Sunday night, I felt entirely unready to leave. I felt, for the first time in a very long time, unready. So happy and comfortable that I did not necessarily need to know what was going to come next for me. But off I went...

And during my many bus rides here in Bolivia, I say a countless number of Our Father's in my head, despite my qualms with Catholicism, because the

highways

here are through the mountains, terribly narrow, and half dirt (the other half is stone). There have been numerous occasions when I really thought I was going to die. Either my praying got me through, or it was luck. One thing I know for certain, it was not the expertise of the driver of the quality of the roads.

So I stopped in La Paz for one night. And then off I went to make the famous pilgrimage of Machu Picchu. The pilgrimage lasted 3 nights and 4 days. The first night I stayed in Copacapana, on Lago Titicaca (still in Bolivia). It is beautiful little town, but very touristy. In the late afternoon, I took a walk along the beach with my shoes off and feet in the water. I have never seen a lake with water so blue and the scenery so... majestic. I walked for a solid two hours, along the coast, and ended up in what must have been the best spot on the coast to see the sun set into the mountains. The most beautiful sunset I have seen in my entire 18 years of life. And although I was alone, it was terribly romantic...

I spent the night in a cheap hostel, and in the morning off I went to Cusco, Peru. I spent all day on the bus, and spent another night in a hostel, this time not as cheap. Thursday was the day for Machu Picchu. You, the reader, may expect this to be the high point of this entry. After all, it is Machu Picchu. But, if you have been there, you know it's a sight -and an experience - beyond words. And if you have not been there, you must go. All I can say is that there is something hauntingly captivating about being somewhere where there is tangible evidence of life in a time so long ago, in a world so ancient...

I made a promise to a priest I know, that I would make it a spiritual journey. In an email that my Mom sent me, she said to be aware of the wonders and mysteries of Machu Picchu. She also said to pray for world peace. I tried to be aware, and to absorb the wonder. And I did pray. And this time, my prayer was not for my life on the dangerous highways of Bolivia.

I remember thinking on my way down the mountain that I was unsure of what to think. My head, and I suppose my spirit too, were full.

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Comments

[Amber]

Reading your blogs has reminded me so much of my time in Togo. In this past entry I had a flashback of begin crammed in a little taxi, praying for my life on several occasions. You write beautifully. Go write a book. (Seriously)

[Aunt Monica]

Hi Rachel!
Amber is right..."go write a book"! I am so glad you did not listen to the fraidy cat relatives :) who were unsettled about these summer travel plans! You tell a great story and we admire your spirit of adventure! Nothing can stop you - Have a safe trip home , Love you - Aunt Monica

[Kate]

I just got caught up on your blogs and it is such a treat! Amber is right. I feel like I have an impression of Bolivia now thanks to you. Safe travels to you! love, Kate

[madre]

Rachel , I hope to see one last journal entry. Bring your journey to the next level and come home with some of that Bolivian culture in our blood. Safe trip home , love MOM and DAD