Cusco (Week 19)

I dashed uphill. The rain had let up enough that it took more than seven seconds for me to be drenched through. I had spent the last 20 or so minutes unsuccessfully trying not to by hand crafted souvenirs from the artisan market while I waited for the storm to calm.

I was hoping to find a tea house or juice store where I could pull my journals out. My peripheral vision caught sight of book store, but it took me a moment to realize I'd already passed the entrance. Avoiding a puddle, I opened the door.

"Bienvenidos." I looked up to see a man in his late 50's or early 60's. I assumed he was the manager. "Gracias." I looked around. It had been a long time since I'd found a bookstore. I'd been hoping to find a children's book in Spanish. I wanted to practice reading Spanish with a book that had manageable grammar. Plus, let's face it, if you can find a well written Children's book, you've found a treasure.

I found a corner with children's literature. Should I get the book about the llama or the dog? Llama's are cute. But, by now, most of my souvenirs were llama related. Plus, in Pucallpa, where I ACTUALLY live, there are no llamas. Dogs, though. Pucallpa has no shortage of dogs. I settled on "Juano, El Perro Peruano."

I looked up. The rain wasn't so heavy, but still steady.

"Tienes libros in Ingles?" I asked. The manager directed me to a few sections. The first set bored me instantly. It was mostly filled with novels I'd never heard of that looked cheap and annoying. I followed his second suggestion. The section on Peruvian history.

Each book was still wrapped in it's original plastic. I read the backs, but it's hard to get the true feel of a book without opening it's cover.

"You can open it if you want to read more." The manager had returned. He asked me some questions about my time in Cusco. "Where did you learn your Spanish?" I responded by telling him about my nine months in Peru. "What are you doing in Pucallpa?" I told as much as I could in Spanish before I ran into words I didn't know. "Enjoy your time in Cusco."

Despite already wondering how I was supposed to transport my llama wool goods back to Pucallpa, I added books to my collection as well. As the girl was ringing me up, I looked outside. It still looked dreary. "¿Puedo sentarme y leer en esa silla? May I sit and read in that chair?" She smiled and said something to the effect of, "Yes! Definitely. The rain is cold."

I sat down and pulled out one of my new treasures. "Turn Right at Machu Picchu," a travelogue by Mark Adams that seemed promising.

I smiled to myself. Yesterday, I myself had been staring down the steep mountain slopes from the "ciudad de Machu Picchu." The day before I had trekked to 17,060 feet above "sea a level" to view the Rainbow Mountains. Both days had been filled with some of the most impressive beauty I'd ever seen... Which is saying A LOT coming from a girl who has lived her entire life only 20 minutes from Glacier National Park. But I smiled to myself because I was just as giddy in this moment.

You see, I don't remember not LOVING books. From the moment I learned to read the word "pink" I had had a "book soul." No. It was before that. It started when Mama would rock me to sleep as she read. It developed as my grandparents snuggled me and read story after story. It flourished when Papa got tired of reading the same book over and over and over. He began reading them in funny voices - sometimes pressing his lips tightly over his teeth as he read about Benny the Beaver or sometimes chuckling at Amelia Bedelia.

Adulting has squashed my longing for books though. The reading life, as joyful as it is, takes energy. Energy is exactly the commodity I haven't had the last few years. Only after 4+ months in a relaxed Latino culture has my heart started again to rejoice over reading.

So I sat down in that bookstore in Cusco, Peru to wait out the rainstorm, and I felt as excited as I had when I explored some of the world's greatest treasure.

A while later, the manager joined me in a nearby chair. The rain was keeping people off the streets, but apparently I was the only one that it had sought refuge in this bookstore. He pulled out his own book explaining, I think, that he wanted to visit Guatemala and was reading about some past war there.

I smiled again. Yesterday, I had seen one of the world's most popular breathtaking views, but I wondered how many people had longed to spend an afternoon in a bookstore escaping a rainstorm. Probably not many. But, here I sat, next to the manager. He read a book in Spanish about Guatemalan history. I read a book in English about Peruvian history. I wonder how much of the world we saw in that moment? It was a lot more than the walls of that bookstore. I was hiking in the Peruvian jungle. He was exploring Guatemala.

In that moment I realized, there are so many ways to travel the world.

~TBS~

P. S. I've been trying my hand at vlogging. I'm still in the learning stages, but I've been having fun. You may enjoy this travelogue of the Rainbow Mountains.