WHipflaShin
The Big Show
In every sense, I did it right, maximized my experience, beat the crowds, etc. Throughout history, there's never been such a fantastically executed day trip to the famed ruins of Machu Picchu. I did it all; and I did it first.
Even so, I think that I missed out. Not that it was no fun to summit Montaña Machu Picchu before the first tourists or beams of heaven had touched the grassy plaza. Not that beating the first tour busses up to the park entrance wasn't gratifying. Not that pushing through hunger pains to reward myself with a huge lunch and Pisco Sour in Aguas Calientes wasn't worth it. It's not that. For me, those things are really great fun, but that's it: In my daily routine, I haven't had to consider the whims or comforts of another in over two weeks.
All considered, I'd bet the farm that the chubby mother of four, dripping in the 11 o'clock sun, passed by dozens, and gasping for the thin Andean air gets much more enjoyment, feels more awe and humility when she finally raises her head from between her knees, to see her waiting family sprawled on the beautiful precipice, ruins a mile below.
Perhaps the beauty is found more complete in the company of the most ordinary things. Perhaps the friendly flicker of headlights outside of the glass of the baggage claim is more beautiful than any mountainscape internalized in solitude. Perhaps the headlights only beautiful after so many mountainscapes, or perhaps neither is welcomed into memory without the other. There's something to the freedom I have to disregard the hindrances of diaper bags and cramps, but after these awe-inspiring experiences, sacked solitarily, I'm ready to feel the flicker of ordinary for a bit. I'm ready to make puns that I can calibrate, I'm ready to eat hot-wings.
Bogotá - 24.7.13
ATL - 26.7.13
The Big Show
In every sense, I did it right, maximized my experience, beat the crowds, etc. Throughout history, there's never been such a fantastically executed day trip to the famed ruins of Machu Picchu. I did it all; and I did it first.
Even so, I think that I missed out. Not that it was no fun to summit Montaña Machu Picchu before the first tourists or beams of heaven had touched the grassy plaza. Not that beating the first tour busses up to the park entrance wasn't gratifying. Not that pushing through hunger pains to reward myself with a huge lunch and Pisco Sour in Aguas Calientes wasn't worth it. It's not that. For me, those things are really great fun, but that's it: In my daily routine, I haven't had to consider the whims or comforts of another in over two weeks.
All considered, I'd bet the farm that the chubby mother of four, dripping in the 11 o'clock sun, passed by dozens, and gasping for the thin Andean air gets much more enjoyment, feels more awe and humility when she finally raises her head from between her knees, to see her waiting family sprawled on the beautiful precipice, ruins a mile below.
Perhaps the beauty is found more complete in the company of the most ordinary things. Perhaps the friendly flicker of headlights outside of the glass of the baggage claim is more beautiful than any mountainscape internalized in solitude. Perhaps the headlights only beautiful after so many mountainscapes, or perhaps neither is welcomed into memory without the other. There's something to the freedom I have to disregard the hindrances of diaper bags and cramps, but after these awe-inspiring experiences, sacked solitarily, I'm ready to feel the flicker of ordinary for a bit. I'm ready to make puns that I can calibrate, I'm ready to eat hot-wings.
Bogotá - 24.7.13
ATL - 26.7.13