Travel Peru: Journey is the destination

 Like it or not, once you step in a direction, once you choose a direction, you are on your way.

WASHINGTON, DC, November 30, 2012 - Like it or not, once you step in a direction, once you choose a direction, you are on your way. It does not matter what mode of transportation you take, but rather, the thought of knowing you are going for new experiences and these seem to fall into place.

“What was that,” he asked? He whipped his head around to see what was behind them. “Was that the car backfiring?”

The rolling hills sparkled, as people flipped on their house lights. The taxi sped around corners, hitting bumps full speed, which made it difficult to see where the mountains ended, and the night sky began. Each flash appeared like a sparkling star in space. Everything blended. The wind blew the waving trees, on the mountaintops, making it appear like horses dancing on their hind legs.

Doug hesitated to respond, but began with a dry nervous voice, “We may have just hit a small kid the way we are speeding. Seriously, dude, I am nervous.” Doug’s body, tightening with each swerve, could not relax.

Suddenly the taxi stopped; slightly, the tires squeal, a jerk to their bodies, and then, a jerk back.

“I need a seatbelt,” Doug exclaimed!

“Just leave it alone Doug,” he said, waving his hand at the seatbelt. “Let me ask him why we stopped. Oye, hombre, que hacemos aqui? Por que paramos?”

“Tengo que pasar por mi mujer, su amiga, y otra viaja,” the man said with a smile.

He told Doug, “Can you believe we are stopping to pick up his wife, her friend, and another old lady!”

Doug grunted with disbelief. Tossing his hands up, Doug said, “We share the taxi, but we pay for it?”

Doug supposedly drew the line at paying for other people’s rides, and learned it is easy to speak to someone, but hard to understand what they really mean.

“Nope, we are going to split it. Watch how I work this. It is taken care of hombre. Let papi speak.” They both began to laugh.

He meant it, about handling it, as he told Doug, “I would rather pay for sex, than pay for someone else’s taxi ride.”

Doug continued, “I am pissed and worried the way he is driving, being pressed against the door.”

He looked at Doug laughing, “More people could act as your seatbelt. Plus, you sound like a tourist right now.”

That seemed to calm Doug down. Those are, more or less, fighting words for a traveler, being called a tourist.

Doug did not hear a word the ladies were saying, as they began asking questions, wanting to know what he and Doug thought of the city, and what the flight was like. Doug was too busy, back seat driving and gasping, as he fought between speaking, and holding his breath, before impact with another car.

Flights are intriguing as passengers sit in their high chair, being told when to eat, sleep, and when to use the restroom. Everyone must work in unison. That is the ant colony world: the airplane ride, where people work together for a common goal: arriving at a city safely. It is a safe world where the airline takes care of passengers. The flight, the calm before the storm, allows you to focus your energy on being ready to step into a new land, and far better, new experiences. Ink simply stains journals easier with this form of traveling. These experiences make you pause, realizing it is not where you end, but rather, the steps along the way, the process to arrive at the destination, which is far greater.

That is where traveling takes place, forcing the travelers to adapt to their world, like the one in the taxi.

“Can we get out here,” Doug demanded emphatically?

Traveling seems magical to those seldom on the open road, and for those who hit the road understand: you are never quite safe, never quite dry, never quite clean, and never quite anything except lost along the way. At this point, the hotel did not matter. Doug wanted to walk the rest of the way, while he stretched his cramped legs and tightened joints from his-over-worked-body-tension-taxi-ride. They found a hotel with a toilet seat and toilet paper. Any hotel with toilet paper and a toilet seat had to be high-class.

 

Henry Biernacki

“Global Henry” (Traveler to over 120 plus countries)

www.TheGlobalHenry.com

Author: No More Heroes



[1]International symbol for toilet, water closet.


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Henry Biernacki

Henry Biernacki has been traveling with his rucksack since he was 17 years old when he took a Greyhound Bus from Colorado to Mexico. In one year, Henry went around the world, sleeping in the streets, spending only 3700USD. He met Mother Teresa 2 September 1997 (3 days before she passed away) and had a personal audience with her. He has traveled to over 120 countries and continues to travel. 

He earned a BA in Romance Languages (French/Spanish) and International Affairs. He has lived in France, Germany, Taiwan, the West Indies and Mexico before returning to the United States.

Today, Henry is an airline Captain for one of the top airlines in the United States. He has flown Airbus319/320 and Boeing747-400/757/767.

 

 

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