Cantamarca

You can learn a lot of Spanish from a cow, especially when you cross paths with one. Or two. Or more cows than you can count.

I learned that last week when I joined the Red de Montanistas hiking group to Canta, a Peruvian town where cow pies are plentiful and oxygen is not.

Honestly? I don’t even know where Canta is. I signed up for the hike knowing about the same amount of Spanish I did a year ago, give or take a few vegetables. And before I know it, I’m trusting my life in the hands of a bus driver whom I’ve never met, bringing my walking sticks, a couple liters of water and trail mix.

The group squeezed into a small van at 5 AM, my Spanish skills being tested right off the bat as the leader explained the day’s events. I had no idea where the van was going. North? South? East? Definitely not West because that’s the ocean. All I knew was that I’d be back in the city by 8 pm, giving me just enough time to do my lesson plans for the next day.

The hike started in a muddy cow pasture and would be about fifteen thousand steps. Fifteen thousand steps that would feel like thirty thousand due to the altitude, which was brutal, my lungs wanting to call it quits. Yet according to my step app, I only burned off the equivalent of two chicken legs. Geesh. It felt like I burned off an entire KFC.

The youngest hiker was Brandy, a dog. Do canines get altitude sickness?

The hike was insanely beautiful, full of old ruins that were cool for selfies, some pre-dating the Incas. Hummingbirds were everywhere along with these flowering red cacti with needles as sharp as Sleeping Beauty’s spinning wheel.

We made it to the top, then walked down the same trail, stopping in town to purchase cheese and honey for friends, and access to a clean toilet for me.

About three and a half hours later, we were back in Lima, the city that resembles the grey underbelly of a donkey (Panza de burro) until November. Yes, the sun hibernates six months of a year like a bear. I wish Canta’s blue sky was as easy to bring back to the city as the mud on my hiking boots.

Here’s until next time!