The Inca trail

The other day we walked the Inca trail which is actually not far from where we are living. The road is pretty much untouched, although they have put paving stones down in part, just in town. I cannot speak about the whole trail because we only walked a short distance, so I am not sure what the whole trail looks like, but I was left with the impression that it was largely untouched. Leaving town the trail becomes a dirt track the same as it was so many years ago. I tried to imagine what it must have been like back then with people having to travel so far on foot to sell their goods. It is much the same if you think about our anscentors and how they lived, travelling many miles by foot or by wagon to get supplies. It is good to think of these things, be reminded of how lucky we are to have such ease in our daily lives. It was not long ago our young Spanish teacher had to haul water from the river early in the mornings to have water for the day. So to be here with running water and flushing toilets is a luxury, one we take for granted in other parts of the world. How would we handle losing those luxuries? It crosses my mind living here as the possibility seems closer to the surface.

What would it be like to not have instant communication with those we love. As I sat on the bus the other day with the girls from Germany, this became very apparent. Patrick was teasing one of them about being on her phone so much, because the youth back home are constantly on their phones, it seems for no important reason. But  she was in contact with her family back home. I could not help but be amazed at the ease with which she was able to do that, and mentioned the beauty of this gift.  How lucky the youth of today are to know this comfort. Well I guess that includes us as well, but the youth do not know what it’s like to have a phone call to the other side of canada that sounds like you are speaking into  a cave, or a toilet as we used to say. The Ecco combined with the delay in time once you speak could be quite frustrating. That a single phone call could cost about $17.00/hour, was  really a luxury, so you can imagine a phone call to family was rare. International calls (meaning the USA) were an exceptional treat. Letters by post common and very much treasured. I remember Sunday evenings being the cheapest time to call, but there was always this pressure to keep it short :).

In any case as I stood there on this ancient road, I could almost sense the energy of those that walked this trail, the good and the bad. There is of course the hope in many people here either visiting or living here that they will be lucky enough to find the gold that surly lies beneath a tree or stone buried in the earth. What are the chances? Personally I don’t think it would be too easy to find, having flashes of the different gold rushes with many looking over short periods of history. But it is fun to imagine being so lucky as to find a stash of history be it pottery or gold, just something to remind us of the past. Of course this is not how most people would think. The gold being the objective, the motivation to be rich. But in my  way of thinking this motivation is what has caused so much of the world’s problems, this hunger to always have more than we require to be comfortable. To be willing to take it from someone else just to be ahead. This creates fear and this fear still lives on this road to the past.

So much of the Inca history was written on gold. Gold was a representation of the sun, which is why it was precious to them. To have their writing inscribed on the gold made those writings the most precious to them. They also had writing on pottery or stone, but the most important works were on gold. When the Spanish came they destroyed most of the writings by melting the gold for easier transport and I assume distribution. They cared nothing for the history they were destroying. So much of the pottery was also destroyed. This is why the history of the natives here was passed down from ancestor to ancestor by the spoken word, and continues to be done this way. You will not find a book store here, the natives do not read their history, they tell their stories, they sing their history. It is woven into their lives.

There were 60 million natives killed when the Spanish came here which almost wiped out a whole nation. This is almost incomprehensible and something to consider when we look back on the idea of conquering. Much of the death was caused by disease, like the natives of North America who’s bodies were not able to fight the illness brought by the foreigners. Small pox, influenceza and bacteria new to these people. Those surviving were weakened and therefore easy to dominate and control. It is difficult to imagine this need to dominate others, yet this is what I became part of inadvertently in my childhood. Bought and sold like a piece of furniture, given to people who only wanted the monetary benefit from acquiring me. While I may now understand their reasons, based on who my birth parents were, I will never understand the motivation for such bizarre ideas. How does one decide the value of another’s life. How does one enjoy the torture and abuse of another being, animal or man. It escapes me and as I stood on the road, I could feel the history. I for one would not be interested in digging up the gold.

We enjoyed the walk though, Mali had a wonderful time exploring new ground – so many smells, so little time.

  Tequila anyone??  This is the tequila agave plant. I found the markings on the leaves quite impressive, like cutouts where the leaves were pressed together as it grew and opened. These plants are so common here, their majestic presence everywhere.

 I cannot get over the size of these plants. They live for approximately 25 years I believe if I am remembering correctly. You can see on this plant the beginnings of a new shoot which will grow into a flower. When this flower dies, so too will the whole plant, its seed falling to the earth to begin anew.

 Now to me this is so much more than a flower, this is a tree. I’m not sure how long it takes for this flower to get this big or how long the actual flower lives but it is impressive. From a distance I thought it was a tree, not realizing it was part of the agave plant. Once I made the connection, I was really surprised because not all plants have their flowers yet and when you see the tree you cannot see it is growing from the plant until you get close. We saw one plant that had had its flower cut off and it did indeed look like a small tree trunk. You can see the dirt track that is the Inca trail, so you get an idea of the roughness.

 You can see here how it is growing out of the plant, the tip of the leaves just visible. It was difficult to get a picture that showed the whole plant without stepping so far back.

There is so much to explore here, but there is not always time, but then I realize when I take the time to think about my life now, how very fortunate I am that I do not have to leave, this is my home now.