I’ve been clearing the final few boxes from our move a year and a half ago. This handwritten account of some memories from Peru was mixed in with a box of books:

“Nov. 26, 2015 Thanksgiving Day

The Sandia Mountains have piles of gray clouds; the sky is gray too. Turkey is in the oven Mark-style. Luke is on his dog chair covered with a Winnie-the-Pooh flannel Xmas sheet. Autumn and Mark are on the TV couch. Stuffing and cranberry/orange sauce are in the frig.

And we’re now one week back from Peru, where I journaled not a single word. If I had, one entry on Nov. 17 would have read, ‘It’s not yet 5:30 a.m. in the jungle & already I’ve scratched the belly of a 400-lb. tapir named Vanessa. “¡Señora, venga! La tapir está aquí,” shouted Horacio, our boat captain, excitedly. (Come, lady, the tapir’s here!)

So at 5:15 a.m. Horacio and I went into the jungle toward the staff quarters and sure enough, Vanessa was snuffling around. We watched her for a few minutes and then I asked, “¿Está amable?” (is she friendly?). Horacio nodded, walked over to her and scratched her head and neck, gently pulling ticks from her.

She stood still and allowed this as I stood 10’ away taking photos. I’ve been ingrained with the directive: NEVER approach, touch or feed a wild animal. Clearly this rule should apply here, right? At that moment, Vanessa looked at Horacio, sat down with a thud, her short legs supporting her front, then flopped over and offered him her belly.

Clearly Vanessa is an exception to that rule, I thought, as I walked over, took photos, knelt down and scratched her belly. Her short fur was coarse and bristly. She enjoyed being scratched but not patted. Her back cloven hoof was drawn in like a dog, and I found a sweet spot on her belly that made her lie back more to better expose her belly. However, no leg kicked into scratching/thumping mode like a dog might do.

I took my leave, wandered toward the dining hall and ran into Gerri and Tish. I told them what happened and offered to lead the pre-6 a.m. tapir walk. We ran into Dave, who joined us. Back to the jungle and here comes Vanessa sans Horacio, right to me with a little high whistle. Such a tiny delicate sound from such an enormous creature. Tish photo’d me, then I photo’d Tish and Dave scratching her. (The next morning, when it was still dark, Vanessa whistled under our thatch-roofed screen tent, inviting me to walk with her.)

After breakfast Alex, our guide, and I were wandering around photographing the emperor tamarind monkeys with big white mustaches.

Vanessa followed me through the jungle whistling and eventually even Alex scratched her head.

Quite a jungle experience and it’s barely 6:30 a.m.’

So many images of Peru are still in my head and in my dreams. I’ll randomly write them down.

COLORS–

Vermilion cock-of-the-rock,

scarlet macaws, blue and orange trogons, plum-throated cotinga (turquoise body). Peruvian women in woven blankets of hot pink, royal blue, red, yellow, black, white.

Llamas and alpacas in tans, whites, browns, blacks, spotted. Houses in many-hued pastels, some with blue doors and window frames. Flowers of every hue; purple, orange, yellow tree blooms; orchids of all colors, hanging from trees; wild begonias; potted flowers.

FOOD–

We encountered no bad food in Peru. Goat, curries, rice, ceviche. (“avoid eating raw fish in a developing country,” but I often do and it’s delicious, plus the lime juice ‘cooks’ it, right?) Fresh fruit–pineapple, cantaloupe, honeydew, watermelon, papaya, mango. Veggies–yucca, papas, asparagus, bell peppers, carrots. Meat–beef, chicken, pork, goat, cuy (guinea pig, spit roasted on a rotating skewer over an open fire, which none of us tried), alpaca. Peruvians use far less sugar than we do–even desserts aren’t very sweet but scrumptious. I got the feeling the cooks made desserts for tourists, not for themselves. The cake the gifted chef at Manu Wildlife Center made for el jefe Dave’s b-day was fabulous–cake, fruit, cajeta (caramel) and nuts. “Feliz Dia David.”

The Chazuta women of San Martin district quit the dangerous trade of coca (cocaine) and started a small business making chocolate–a smoky 73% cacao is FANTASTIC! Wish I’d bought more…

Soups seemed to be a specialty–homemade all–chicken noodle, veggie, cream of asparagus, yummy all. One tiny town sported a panaderia (bread shop), and our guide got a fresh round flat loaf with an embossed bread heart on it. It was part vanilla and part cocoa, we think, and super tasty.

The woman in hot pink sweats deep-frying frybread over an outdoor wood fire stretched the elastic dough like pizza dough, then immersed it into boiling oil.

Her kids brought several 12″ rounds to our group, who were picnicking nearby. I’ve been told, “Be wary of street food in a foreign land.” But it just came out of boiling oil. And it was MUY SABROSA (very tasty)! No one got sick…just sayin’.

In the jungle where it’s 100 degrees and 100% humidity, there is no electricity, cell or wifi. A small generator powers the kitchen, but at 8 p.m. when it’s dark, we go to bed. It’s easier to rise at 4:45 a.m. when you go to bed at 8 p.m.

But no electricity means no freezers. And no freezers mean no helado (ice cream). The chef made us fruit cream gelatin and chocolate pudding and custard, all cool, but we could hear the kitchen staff laughing uproariously in the kitchen, and the word “helado” was interspersed with the laughter (those silly Americans?).

When Gerri and I scouted the Lima airport for our group the night of our 7-hour layover before our wee hours departure, the 2nd floor sported giant, well-illuminated mounds of gourmet helado, plus chocolate store, pastry shops, restaurants, and even a massage/spa/manicure place where Tish and Gerri took showers. Oddly, no one got helado, which was before security. On the other side were lots of shops, but no helado. :-(

TRANSPORTATION–

It took 31 hours to get from Manu Wildlife Center to home. Boat, taxi, boat, bus, plane from Puerto Maldonado to Lima, plane from Lima to Houston, plane from Houston to Albuquerque, cab home (the driver knew our neighbors’ son, who drives for the same cab company).”         — End of ten-year-old handwritten text —

That is all I wrote on pages delicately lined and decorated with flowers and butterflies. Rather than scan them and never read them again, I decided to transcribe them here for the world to view. My twelve fans will be happy for this trip down memory lane, before Mark’s lymphoma diagnosis, before Luke died, before the world became a much less safe and welcoming place.

We didn’t do eBird back then but were able to recreate some lists from photos. We saw more than 300 species of birds, but only 44 appear on this Peru eBird trip report. Click on “Species with Photos” to see the dazzling array of some colorful birds that dwell in Peru.

Butterflies were also stunning, as this blue morpho illustrates.

We hiked with llamas/alpacas at Machu Picchu,

admired mystical ruins, explored food and shops in Lima, rode in a small wooden boat in a storm to view horned screamers and hoatzins, and much more.

Sometimes going back in time to remember adventures with friends rejuvenates one’s soul.