Cuzco: Finding Hope in Unlikely Places

by Megan Eileen McDonough | 2009

It had seemed a never-ending day of traveling on little energy when I finally arrived in Cuzco, Peru. Upon exiting the plane, the bright sun pierced my eyes and I felt as though I gained about twenty pounds all at once. People had warned me about high altitude sickness, but I wasn't sure how it would affect me until that very moment.

After meeting my friend at baggage claim, I immediately felt at ease. I had known Andrea for years and we had planned on taking our South American vacation for as long as I can remember. I always doubted whether or not we would ever embark on this journey, but here we were, ready to begin our trip. Not only did Andrea speak fluent Spanish, but she had also grown up in Bolivia and was familiar with South American culture. These were two advantages I lacked.

Walking through the airport doors and into a cab, the harsh sun blinded me once more. I felt like a figure inside a snow globe—the kind where a blank-eyed girl stands frozen in a bubble of beauty. I had seen cobblestone streets in Europe, but there they always appeared glamorous and romantic. These streets were jagged, the people were beaten down by heat, and everything screamed of chaos. Despite all the commotion, I felt an inner peace from being in Cuzco. This discovery latched on to me and I have not let it go.

The taxi whipped through streets, up hills, and through markets with no traffic lights or stop signs. I barely blinked for fear I would miss some important detail of my new surroundings. I couldn't help but recall how casually I had decided to travel through South America. Frustrated with my parents for wanting me to stay in the States, I now better understood their concern as I looked out the taxi window into a world of poverty I would never know.

Throughout the next few days I wandered down streets, into shops, and to various monuments. Inside the city's famous Cathedral were ornate statues, haunting paintings, and exquisite gold embellishments. Leaving the Cathedral was equally as memorable. A llama crossing the road, accompanied by a young Peruvian girl in traditional dress, cheerfully greeted me.

Then emerged a small boy who desperately tried selling me an envelope he had painted. On the envelope was a printed copy of a famous Peruvian painting, so I knew it was not his original work. Despite explaining that I had no money with me, the youth continued persisting, even following me to my hotel. I was never fearful of the boy, for I saw in him an intense desire to overcome obstacles out of his control. Finding hope in unlikely places is a gift from within that many are not lucky enough to discover.

It was later that night, after eating dinner while listening to a local band perform, that we heard commotion coming from the main square. City officials were holding an Inca ceremony celebrating their heritage. Men and women dressed as historical figures took the stage and even a few llamas made appearances. The finale involved fire dancers lighting a mammoth circular fireball and rolling it around Plaza de Armas.

It was in that instant that I looked upwards to the sky. There, in the distance, stood a white Jesus statue, His arms outstretched, glowing in the hills that lay before me. Time froze in that moment as I felt a protective shield form around me, almost as if I was untouchable from harm. I knew that the spirit of this beautiful, magical city had changed me for the better.

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