There´s this super cool couple that Matt and I know in Cusco, Nilton and his girlfriend Muncie. We hang out with them all the time, they take us to the local places in and around Cusco and are just all round great people.

 Nilton is an artesano. His jewelry is AWESOME. He makes all this stuff by hand and his designs are nothing like anything you will ever see anywhere, except maybe Cusco, but even then, his work stands out among all the rest. And I´m not just saying that because he´s our friend.

In an effort for shameless promotion of a friend´s work, click here or go to photobucket.com/artisano to look at some of his stuff.

I will be bringing home some of his jewelry for myself. When you see it, you will want some of this work. I promise. So, check out the link and if you want me to bring something home for you, I will. It would be best if you want something that you paypal me at the address listed on the contact page of my website. I will charge only Nilton´s prices, which average about 35-45 USD per piece, usually less, depending on how complicated it is or how rare the stones are. Also, he uses exclusively South American stones, most of them are Peruvian.

If you wait until I come home and you want to buy something, I will be bringing extra, but I will also be charging extra . . . and I´m not going to bring too much back with me. I have other things to do than become a jewelry seller, but I do really like Nilton´s work and want to help out a fellow artist.

Again, you will never see this kind of handiwork in the states and you will never see it at this kind of price, either, so order up! I´m leaving Cusco in less than two weeks, so hurry.

I am lucky enough to gaze at Apu Pachatusan almost every day. It sits in the distance, just down the valley, looming over the Urubamba River, in view of the place I´ve been living for the last five months, on the outskirts of the town of Pisac.

I´ve been calling Apu Pachatusan ´The Rhombus Mountain´ because a unique rock formation just below the tip of the mountain resembles several rhombuses folding into one another. Sometimes it´s nice just to sit down at the river, listen to the water flowing by and look up into the far-off rhombuses and daydream. It truly is a special mountain.

Since Incan times, the earth-based religion of Peru, Bolivia and Ecuador has referred to the spirits of the mountains as apus, or gods. Each mountain, or apu, has it´s own spirit, name and unique qualities. Apu Pachatusan has been revered as a sacred mountain since pre-historic times as a magical place of healing waters. Over the centuries, this mountain´s legend has been Catholicized in an effort to christianize the local indigenous population. As a result, The Sanctuary of Señor De Huanca at Apu Pachatusan, the site of the most popular Andean Catholic miracle, is one of the most visited holy sites by the local population because supposedly Jesus has appeared on this mountain several times and has spoken messages of peace and love.

Almost every car, taxi, bus and store around here displays some mention of Señor De Huanca, usually complete with a glitzy display of a bloody Jesus. I lost count a long time ago of the number of businesses with the name of ¨Señor De Huanca.¨Finally I managed to visit the sanctuary for myself . . .

And I don´t know what took me so long! The place is really beautiful – full of flowers, gardens, groves of eucalyptus trees and flowing fountains reputed to contain magical, healing water. Although there were young, shirtless Peruvian men playing in the water fountains, we collected several bottles of ´magic water´and immediately sterilized our samples when we got home. We shared the magic water last night at dinner. The verdict is out on the water´s healing abilities, but I´ll keep you posted . . . I mean, it´s got the vibes of shirtless men, so it´s got to at least be . . . ahem . . .  energetic, if nothing else.

Upon arrival to the church and sanctuary of Señor De Huanca, the first thing we heard was an explosion of firecrackers that someone set off inside the church! I thought that was pretty cool and I wonder if this kind of thing happens regularly . . .

A couple of things I recommend bringing with you on your trek to the monastery at Señor De Huanca is a plastic bag to collect trash and some dog food. For some reason, there is quite a lot of trash in and around the sanctuary grounds and it´s a custom to collect one bag full of trash as a gratuity. Next time I go, I will also bring either a small bag of dog food or some scraps, as I´ve never seen dogs as skinny and starved as the ones at the top of that mountain.

We went inside the massive Catholic church that´s built at the base of the sanctuary. I found the burnt remnants of the packaging of the firecrackers I´d heard earlier in the day. One interesting thing about the church is that confession is offered in both Spanish and Quechua. The church is a typical Latin Catholic church, full of altars and flowers and bleeding Jesuses. That Thursday afternoon when I visited, the pews were full of praying families and squirming kids.

Most of my attention was focused to the window near the ceiling of the church, which shows a spectacular view of the peak of Apu Pachatusan. I´m glad that at least the church respected the Apu enough to include a window so that the indigenous, Catholicized mountain people could at least have a scrap of memory about the original significance of their sacred mountain . . .

Here´s the view of the Sacred Valley from the fields above the sanctuary of Señor De Huanca . . .

Tourist season is back in full swing. And so are the strikes in the Cusco region.

But, I say, ¨People of Peru . . . Go for it!¨ The strike on transportation that happened yesterday was for a damn good reason – the giant Bechtel corporation is trying to privatize the water in Peru. This is BAD, BAD, BAD for the Peruvian people . . . water is life and it belongs to everyone. Bechtel has been systematically privatizing water throughout South America with disatrous results.

So, just know that if you come to Peru, that yes, there may be a strike. This means that you could get stuck somewhere for a day. At the worst, you may miss your plane or the train to Macchu Picchu may not run that day. Yeah, it´s all a real big bitch for tourists, but the Peruvian people need to show their government that selling their water rights to a giant corporation is NOT OK, and this is how they do it – by organizing transportation strikes.

So, please support the strikes. Talk to the people. Let them know that you agree with them. And, don´t use transport on strike days. (You´re not going to be able to anyway.) Sit back, relax. Climb a mountain.

Today was the day after the strike and huge rocks still lay in the roads . . . as though the people are ready to strike again if need be.

I’ve been purposely reticent about ceremony the four months I’ve been in Peru, for a lot of reasons. I feel like now is the time to shed some light on those choices and to also open up a bit about plant medicine.

When I came back to Peru, I had a lot of inner work to do and I knew it. I was in a sad funk, fighting the same old battles with myself regarding work, money and life. It seemed like I had almost everything I wanted: living life on the road, in love, traveling with a great boyfriend, seeing and doing so many exciting things every single day – but it was like I couldn’t appreciate any of it. I was all plugged up mentally and spiritually and didn’t even know why.

I was still carrying the same old stories. I was still in shock from the whirlwind that had been 2008 – temporarily leaving Venice Beach, quitting my job, living in hotels with my cat, bouncing around for eight months. I was so stressed out that the hair on the back of my head began falling out at an alarming rate. By November of last year, I had a smooth bald spot beginning on the nape of my neck that extended halfway up the back of my head. And the hair wasn’t growing back. I was concerned. Stress releases lots of toxins into the body and mine had become a wasteland.

When I began taking part in ayahuasca and San Pedro ceremonies in Peru again I did not want to write about the details of my inner healing. I did not want to diminish the power of the process – and I felt like my very life and health depended on it. I didn’t want my innermost healing on display for the entire world wide web to read about. I didn’t want the pressure of having to blog about any of it or analyze it in a public forum. I didn’t want to worry about what my or Matt’s family might think about it.

Ceremony for me isn’t about sitting in the dark, puking while hearing some pretty songs and seeing some cool visuals . . . man. It’s hard work, sometimes frightening, often cathartic. I wanted my healing to unfold naturally, without being rushed, judged or critiqued. I needed an indefinite amount of time to focus on nothing except my own health and healing – and so that’s what I have been doing. Now here I am, four months later, and my life is completely changed as a result. I’ve rid my body of the toxic stress – that habitual underlying current keeping my insides agitated. I’m no longer in a funk, my writing arm doesn’t go numb anymore, I’m excited about life, my hair is growing back and I’m well on the way to writing as my full-time career.

I’ve thought about all of this long and hard and the bottom line is that plant medicine has saved my life – literally. There are lots of first-person accounts written by people from around the world – click here for my own 2006 article published at Perception Engine. Do I want to become a shaman and facilitate other people as they work directly with plant medicine? No, but I do have a very real pull to write about it in a new way.

Plant medicine is such a big subject – the politics involved (both locally and globally), the huge spectrum in modalities of use, unspoken controversies, and a new emerging feminism within the movement. My goal is to facilitate an in-depth and well-rounded understanding for those with an interest in the subject, particularly those focused on their own inner-healing.

All the locals around here stare openly at Matt´s giant red beard.

Peruvian men don´t have the genes for  growing much in the way of facial hair, so his is a real novelty around these parts. Yesterday, we sat in a shady spot and did our normal thing – watched the Sunday market in the Plaza De Armas in Pisac, Peru. We were quietly resting when Matt suddenly exclaimed, ¨Aha, I caught them! I caught all four of those ladies staring at my beard!¨ He pointed toward four Andean women across the walkway from us who were sitting on blue tarps in the bright sun selling onions, peppers and carrots. They all smiled and quickly looked away, giggling.

We waited, resting for a few more minutes. I let my eyes drift over toward the row of women. I waited until they all stared again, because I knew it would happen . . . and then . . . just when all eyes were on Matt, I reached over next to him, still staring straight ahead and with no emotion and without looking at him, I gave a good solid yank on his beard.

They all fell into fits of laughter again, this time whispering to one another behind their hands. Then we got an idea. We practiced the whole schpeil in Spanish a few times first. Then I went over to talk to the women.

¨Hello! Good Afternoon!¨I said to the ladies in Spanish. ¨You know, if you want to touch his beard, it´s ok with me. Only ONE SOLE.¨ They knew I was kidding. They shook their heads and the laughter started again. ¨But, you can touch it for free if you´ll let me take your picture while you´re doing it!¨

No takers. Darn. We would have traded – a little touch of the beard for some onions . . . why not?

I promised to post dorky shots of tourists in Cusco.

Stalking them has become a new fascination of mine – the longer their lens the better. It can be difficult to be covert, but I´m getting the hang of it.

Seriously, though . . . This guy won´t have a camera or a backpack for long. Neither is secure on his shoulders. Easy pickins for a theif. . . Don´t be this guy.

Don’t let the name of this cozy little artisan café scare you away. The Ayahuasca Cafe is named after the ayahuasca vine, a vision-inducing shamanic medicine plant of the South American jungle that has the very real ability to heal people on a mental, spiritual and sometimes, a physical level. The ayahuasca brew itself tastes horrible, though,  and you’d never want to associate it with food. I must admit when I first saw the name of the café, I thought about the ayahuasca brew and immediately lost my appetite. But no worries, the food at The Ayahuasca Café is home-cooked, healthy and incredibly tasty. After one meal at this café, all you’ll think about is how yummy the food is.

This café is the perfect fusion of everything enjoyable about Pisac – fresh, local food, truly hand crafted art, (unlike many of the factory-made things being sold by those calling themselves ‘artesanos’ in the market), a chill atmosphere and a very welcoming, gringo-friendly attitude. Although the owners speak only Spanish, the place is decorated inside and out with thick, gorgeous carved wood signage displaying nearly perfect English. The wide-ranging menu is offered in both Spanish and English. A lot of establishments in Peru use bad English on signage and in printed menus, but the professionalism and attention to detail of The Ayahuasca Café doesn’t end here.

The place is tiny; the front room only has four tables, a couple of small couches and a coffee table. For the weary traveler, this place is chill-out heaven, offering a respite from the bright sun. Jazzy music with an international flair plays on the speaker system. Daniela, the owner, always asks me if the music ¨is good for inspiration¨ when I sit for hours at one of the little tables, writing in my journal.

The interior of the restaurant doorway is hand-painted with a colorful bird pattern that is reminiscent of Inka designs. In Peru, it can be difficult to find a perfectly clean, comfortable and visually pleasing eatery with good service, so this gem is not to be overlooked. Although not advertised, if you have an international phone card, they might allow you to use their nice cordless phone for free if you’re a customer. When not taking an order or cooking food, the owners are busy making art while hanging out in the back room.

The walls are a warm yellow color and decorated with unique items for sale – Shipibo ayahuasca tapestries in all sizes, visionary ayahuasca prints and paintings made by local shamans and a prominent Artesano display in the middle of the room is loaded down with local hand-made jewelry, carved items and small sculptures. From carved poles hangs a display of t-shirts painted with a colorful array of trippy little dwarves. One window is loaded with hunks of natural incense of copal, myrrh and palo santo.

The café con leche is rich and piping hot, the juices freshly squeezed and/or blended and the burgers are delectable, served on a quarter round of fresh, wood-fired whole wheat bread, and dripping with mashed avocado. From vegetarian specialties like spaghetti pesto to the sweet pankekes (crepes) offered for dessert, the menu has something enjoyable for everyone. After your meal, if you want to leave your giant backpack behind, this is a safe spot to do so. The owners will gladly hold your pack while you make the roughly 2-hour arduous climb up the mountain to visit the spectacular Pisac ruins.

The nicest thing about this café is that although it definitely has a new-age shamanic vibe, the proprietors never bring it up – unless a customer asks. This laid-back attitude is refreshing and welcoming – mostly everything in Peru is too aggressive with sales pitches. The prices are very fair (about $3 US for a three course meal with a hot drink) and the portions generous – most gringo friendly places overcharge for less than spectacular food.

When I was a kid, one clear April first mid-morning on my way home from the grocery store, I got hit by a car. I was riding my bike on the sidewalk, steering with one hand and clutching a bag with the other. Just as I rode past the edge of the grocery store building and into the alleyway that connected from behind the store, I collided tire-to-tire with a slow moving station wagon.

The force of the slow impact was enough to send me flying over my bike handlebars and onto the hood of the car. Bread and carrots flew out of the paper grocery sack. It happened so fast that it took me a minute to realize that I hadn´t hit the ground. Apart from a bang on my leg, I was a little dizzy, but unhurt and  full of adrenaline from the crash. After confirming that I was OK, the driver and I  quickly went our separate ways.

I pedaled as fast as I could, eager to get home and tell my family the exciting news. ¨You´re never going to believe it, but I got hit by a car!¨ I said.

¨Yeah Anna,¨ my brother said. ¨April Fool.¨

¨No, really. I really got hit by a car,¨ I told my grandma. ¨That´s why the bread got squashed.¨

¨Sure,¨ grandma said. ¨I´m no April Fool!¨

No one believed me, even though I had a swelling bruise on my shin as proof, until the next day when the driver of the car ran into my Grandfather at the local coffee shop. ¨I´m glad your granddaughter is OK,¨ he said. ¨She landed on the hood of my car. That kid almost scared me to death.¨

·     ·     ·     ·     ·     ·     ·

Today, when Matt came home from his volunteer work teaching Math to children in the next town over, his sunglasses were broken and he was obviously shaken up a bit. ¨I was in a car accident on the way home!¨ he said. The moto-taxi he was riding in fell into the same hole I fell into in the footbridge near our house.

He has a big bruise on his shin like I did so many years ago from my April Fool´s Day Car Crash, but I actually believe his story.