Unless you’ve personally experienced a war or a natural catastrophe, you’ll likely agree, for you, 2020 has been the worst year… EVER. For me - someone who’s identity has in large part been defined by travel, this has been a miserable year. Sure, I’m much better off than many, but if you pretty much live to travel, if everything you do revolves around travel. If your livelihood largely depends on travel… well… you can imagine.
“How much was happening each week, each day… until the pandemic hit.”
Looking back at this year now, the contrast between before and after the pandemic is surreal. How much we were moving. How freely. How much was happening each week, each day… until the pandemic hit.
I want to share some of the photos that I made this year. In those first 3 months of the year, before we were locked down. And then, I’ll show you what I managed to photograph during the lockdown, as well as when things started to improve and relax a little here in Peru.
This will be a 3 part blog post. I wanted to fit in all the images without going overboard. It’s all as much for my memory as it is for you to see. I hope that I can help some of you remember how great it is to travel or, to travel vicariously through me.
“Frustrated and wet like the dog, I returned to the room and fell asleep to the sound of the sporadic, leftover fireworks outside. ”
To celebrate the new year, me and my girls went to Cusco. It was supposed to be one of the better places to celebrate. I can believe that, but, the weather was pretty miserable. Grey, and rainy every other day. The new year’s eve was rainy too. It poured hard most of the night and only after the clock struck 0:00 did it calm down.
This wet dog is very symbolic of my “celebration”. While the girls were long asleep at the hotel, I roamed the streets in search of something. Frustrated and wet like the dog, I returned to the room and fell asleep to the sound of the sporadic, leftover fireworks outside.
“I’ve mentioned before that my wife and I are products of the Soviet Union. We were both born in Belarus. When we were kids we did not celebrate the religious and capitalist Christmas. It was all about New Year’s Eve! ”
I’ve mentioned before that my wife and I are products of the Soviet Union. We were both born in Belarus. When we were kids we did not celebrate the “religious and capitalist Christmas”. It was all about New Year’s Eve in the USSR.
Old habits die slow. Very slow in our case. Actually, I don’t care much for celebrating anything, but my wife has decided to keep the tradition of New Year’s Eve and giving presets on new year’s morning. Oh, and there’s a New Year’s Tree, rather than a Christmas tree. What can I say? My family is a confusing mixture of cultures.
Ayacucho market is a place I visited once in 2019 and twice in 2020. It became familiar to me. I found my spots, waited for my moments and took photos of life.
I’ve long considered people-watching and watching life the ”most interesting show on earth.” Especially when the watching happens in a place that’s different to where you’re from. Ayacucho is that kind of place.
I love seeing people’s expressions. The mouth, the lips say a lot. The supposed new normal with everyone wearing masks sucks so much! I’ll never embrace it and can’t wait till it’s gone. Forever!
Want to edit your photos to look like these?
For Mia this year has been a little less action and discovery filled than the other years. Still, it’s amazing how little young children actually care about what’s such a huge tragedy to us.
– More time in one place?
– Not a problem! I’ll just draw more and learn more about crafts. And play more with my toys. That’s pretty much been her reaction.
Luz Milagros. A young shepherd girl was one of the memorable characters we met along the road. When I drove via the same road again, we saw Luz Milagros around the same spot. I couldn’t stop and I didn’t call out her name, but it was beautifully weird to encounter the same person. A stranger who’s face I’d become so familiar with from the photo.
Speaking of familiar strangers… A friend I made on the road drove past these children, who she saw on my Instagram. She screamed in excitement because of that weird sense of familiarity. She stopped, took their photo and sent it to me.
We’d been going back and forth. From the coast to the mountains and vice-versa. Miraflores, Lima became a familiar place. This was our base while in Lima, and here we stayed while waiting to meet my parents who came to visit. Even that seems surreal at the moment, considering the circumstances, and that now Australians aren’t even allowed to leave the country any time soon.
The glorious national reserve area of San Fernando. The desert… I didn’t think I’d miss it this much. I still prefer the mountains, but the sea and the huge dunes are a sight to behold.
Just to think, nature couldn’t care less for our calamity. It’s happy if anything. Life goes on as usual in San Fernando, probably less disturbed. As it does in any other national park or reserve.
“... had my family not been with me through this disaster we’ve all been going through… I’m not convinced that I’d have kept sane. ”
I will admit, it can be hard to travel with family. It can be frustrating and annoying. It’s hard to please each one of us, but… had my family not been with me through this disaster we’ve all been going through… I’m not convinced that I’d have kept sane. Ok, I might have snuck across some border by now, but that might be in large part to having lost my mind.
Having now spent more time in Peru than I’ve spent home in Sydney, for… over 15 years, I’ve come to love and appreciate this country. It’s full of wonderful surprises. A lake on a map turns out to be a gathering place for an entire village over the weekend. A fascinating insight into a different culture.
I love random encounters with people. Just a few words can help you form some sort of picture about a village, a town, even a whole region. I’ve found that the people of the Peruvian mountains are some of the most chilled out and polite in all of Peru.
Of course, the further you go from the well-traveled tourist routes, the more genuine, the more free of obligation, or expectations of any sort the interactions become.
A typical sight along the road. And, in reality, life in rural Peru has changed very little since the pandemic. No one wears masks. Everyone continues to herd their animals. Some people don’t even believe in Covid. It’s a different dimension to one of worries, of the rush to vaccinate and talks about the economy crashing.
A lake at over 4000m above sea-level. Not an unusual sight in Peru. Ridiculously blue skies and crisp air.
I met this elderly woman on the way to the mountains. And, not long ago, when I was going to Lima, I saw her again. I only realised that it was the same spot and the same woman when I had passed her, but it was nice to know that she’s ok.
Crop burning is common in rural Peru. Farmers do it to remove some of the unneeded crops and to fertilise the soil. Even a 5-7 year-old boy can be seen helping his parents, however he can.
Another random encounter along the road. A woman who was taking her cow to drink from a stream. We chatted. She smiled. She didn’t understand why I’d want a photo of her, but she agreed.
“... despite the virus, whatever there was to celebrate around where I’ve lived (Urubamba) was celebrated. ”
Peru is definitely a land of celebrations. I’m not sure how open local villagers would be to a foreigner these days, but, before the pandemic… anyone celebrating anything was all too happy to have a lost-looking gringo join and take photos.
I can attest the the celebrations and partying continued, even throughout the pandemic. I heard a celebration parade for Mother’s Day, The Andean New Year and other occasions that I’m not familiar with. Basically, despite the virus, whatever there was to celebrate around where I’ve lived (Urubamba) was celebrated.
You can only appreciate some views from above. It’s hard to guess from the ground how fascinating the different colored patches on the fields look from the sky.
I think it’s time to start eating street food again. There wasn’t much of it during the first months of the pandemic and later, I was a bit paranoid. From what we know, it’s not highly likely that Covid can be passed through food. Next time I’ll see a tempting scene like this, I might succumb.
“As the cliché goes - you can’t appreciate something until it’s gone, or until you can’t have it your way.”
Much of the higher Andes look pretty dramatic. Spectacular, but rough and inhospitable. I’ve been living in the Andes since the Pandemic began. Thankfully, at a slightly lower altitude.
My mum and dad. They visited us almost a year ago now. Despite the fact that I travel all the time, we see each other every year. I really, really hope that we can keep doing this next year, even if it’s not at the beginning.
As the cliché goes - you can’t appreciate something until it’s gone, or until you can’t have it your way. Even with an incredibly long distance between us, seeing each other was relatively easy.
One or two planes from Sydney and, within 24 hours we’re hanging out and spending time. My parents are still pretty young, so I hope that we have plenty of little adventures ahead over their future visits.
Stay tuned for part 2!
