One of the guys that was in my Machu Picchu tour group kept asking me if I was feeling ok . . . if I was hot . . . if I was having trouble with the altitude . . . while I was trying to walk around on one of the Seven Wonders of the World, concentrate on what our tour guide was saying, and keep from losing my breakfast (which by the way I intentionally kept light). He was a nice enough guy, but he was really getting on my nerves as I was doing my best to manage all of the feelings of nausea that kept building up and then subsiding.
What really bugged me was that he mentioned altitude sickness several times. Really altitude sickness . . . did I look like somebody that would be bothered by the altitude? If I'd felt better, I would've reminded him that I'd been in Arequipa for 11 days, riding on the back of a motorcycle with a crazy guy, doing important ministry, and even exercising and that where I was in Arequipa is over 8000 ft above sea level and that before I'd traveled to Cusco, I was in Puno at Lake Titicaca which was over 12,500 ft above sea level and that although Machu Picchu is 7972 ft above sea level, this was not my first high altitude rodeo. When you're feeling the sickest even the nicest of people can really get under your skin. I'm not sure what it was, but I was absolutely sure it was not altitude sickness.
Back up two days and here's where I think it all started. I had just boarded a plane to fly from Puno to Cusco. As I finished adjusting my seat belt, this family boards the plane right across the aisle from me. Dad and mom and the kid in the middle seat. Before they even sat down they were pulling out those dark blue airplane barf bags and holding them over the kid's mouth as she starting making horrible retching sounds. I looked around and there was a teenage girl in the row behind the family already holding her sweatshirt over her nose and shaking her head. If this was not bad enough, one of the stewardesses kept spraying some air purifier behind me that smelled like flowers at funeral home. I was thinking sweet Jesus this is going to be the worst 1 hour plane trip that I'd ever taken. However, I was also trying to have compassion for this little girl, a child of God, that was starting to lose her cookies and we hadn't even started taxiing to the runway. I was hoping that things would improve when we got in the air and she experienced one of those peaceful plane rides . . . but it turned out to be one of the most turbulent flights that I can remember. The plane felt like it was being kicked around like a tin can and when it dropped and bounced everybody would make this collective gasp and then go, "Ohhhhhhh!" Needless to say, I think she filled up 3 airplane barf bags in the course of an hour. And the whole back of the plane smelled like vomit and funeral home flowers.
I consider myself to be fairly orthodox Christian with a strong Lutheran understanding of God's grace through Jesus Christ, but as I was walking around Machu Picchu trying not to lose my own cookies, I started thinking about that little girl on the plane trip and my less than compassionate attitude toward her . . . and well, the concept of "karma" suddenly became a very real experience for me (and I'm not Buddhist). Just a fluke or karma? I'll let you decide. But, here I was . . . my first experience on top of one of the Seven Wonders of the World and I really wished I had a blue airplane barf bag!
The tour was broken down into two parts. The Temple area and the Warehouse area. Of course, we started with the Temple area. Even if you've never been to Machu Picchu, I'm sure you've seen the photos of the flawlessly stacked stone buildings literally emerging out the mountain with the early morning fog still covering the surrounding tree canopy. Do you have the image? Well, Machu Picchu is certainly all of that and more. In preparation for the trip I'd even started reading The Lost City of the Incas by Hiram Bingham, who discovered the ancient Inca citadel in 1911. (I know that I'm a bit of a nerd.) I was really pumped up about learning everything I could and so I didn't want to rush the tour, but after an hour I felt like leaning over to our tour guide and telling her to pick it up a bit.
I honestly kept thinking I was going to be able to make it. There were moments where I thought the nausea had passed and then out of nowhere it would return with a vengeance and I would begin to sweat and my mouth would start watering again. It finally got the place where I couldn't even focus on what our tour guide was saying and all I could think was these are a bunch of big freaking rocks and I don't care. Toward the end, the only real conscious thought I had was that I didn't want to puke in the Temple of the Sun. Again, I consider myself to be fairly orthodox Christian with a strong Lutheran understanding of God's grace through Jesus Christ, but I also respect the power of the ancient Inca mojo. And I didn't want to disturb the mojo or desecrate one of the most sacred sites of the Incan empire with the most unsettled contents of my stomach. It may sound funny now, but for me at that moment it was no laughing matter.
Knowing that I was not going to be able to keep this horrible experience from happening, I began frantically looking around for the least sacred place I could spot and then the best opportunity to pull away from our group. And then it happened . . . I will spare you from all the gory details, but let it be known I left quite mark between two large rocks on top of one of the Seven Wonders of the World!
So, why did I chose to share this experience with you (those who continue to come back to read this blog)?
Part of it is confession. For being less compassionate toward the young girl who was suffering extreme motion sickness. Admittedly, I was a little smug on the plane.
But the other part is this realization I had. Yes, I was excited about Machu Picchu and seeing for myself this incredible architectural achievement that rivals that of anything ever created by human hands. However, I hadn't put all of my eggs in the Machu Picchu basket. My trip to Peru had an itinerary, but I realized by the time I had gotten to Machu Picchu that what I would experience each day was just what it needed to be.
(This is not a spiritual cliche.)
That the power of seeing a little girl receive her first real bed was preparing me for the next day. That seeing a mother's tears over her child was preparing me for the next day. For seeing the entire staff of the Association Serving Alto Cayma gathered around the dedication of a new building for serving the least of these was preparing me for the next day. That being thankful for the simple gifts of each day was preparing for the next day. That even the existential moments in Puno were preparing me for the next day.
Although I've yet to sort through everything that I experienced in Peru, I know that my trip was more than just a trip. A lot of stuff happened for me. Some things got settled. Some things got stirred up. Some things got healed. Some things got opened up that need healing. And I know that this was all part of God's ongoing work in my life. Not just for me, but for my family, my friends, my colleagues, my fellow brothers and sisters at Advent, and for those I am being called to serve and to be served by in the future.
Let me be clear. Do I think puking on top of Machu Picchu was part of God's plan for me? Come on, let's get serious.
Just as there's a lot more to Peru than Machu Picchu, there's a lot more to life than seeing one of the the New Seven Wonders of the World (although I'm so glad I had the opportunity). But, some of the things I experienced in Arequipa with the children, families, home visits, etc. were, for me, even more wonderful . . . Thanks be to God!
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