This article was originally published in 2017, and has since been updated for accuracy of content and links.

Landscapes

In this article I’m focusing on the Andean regions of both countries (specifically the Sacred Valley in Peru, and the Ecuadorian regions around Cuenca and in the south), which is where I’ve spent the most time. But there’s a whole lot more to Ecuador and Peru than just mountains. Peru in particular is host to a stunning variety of landscapes, from beaches, to desert, to jungle, canyons, cloud forests, and of course, mountains. Ecuador doesn’t have quite as much variety, but it’s close. (And it has the Galapagos in its favour – a landscape all its own).

Mountains

For sheer drama and beauty of mountains, I found Peru to be more gratifying. The Sacred Valley is at a higher altitude than the Andes of Ecuador, and as such, the mountains feel much more majestic. But the energetic power of those mountains (if you believe in such things) is so strong that it can repel people as well. I’ve known many people who made the Andes of Peru their home for a time….only to be “chewed up and spit out” at the end. Heck – it even happened to me.

By contrast, the Ecuadorian Andes are a bit lower in altitude. Although certain regions like the Cajas outside of Cuenca remind me very much of the Peruvian Andes, for the most part I found the mountains of Ecuador to be a bit more…gentle. In a nice way, of course! At times, the Ecuadorian Andes felt more like glorified hills than mountains to me. (It’s a bit of a harsh analysis; but if we’re boiling things down to brass tacks of visiting Ecuador or Peru, the Peruvian mountains offer more bang for your buck).

Cost of Living

Speaking of getting bang for your buck, Peru wins hands-down if you want value for money spent. I believe the problem stems from Ecuador using the US dollar; a strong currency that inherently makes things more expensive. I saw the same phenomenon in Costa Rica and Panama; a general sense of surprise at the cost of living in what is supposedly a developing country.

If you’re careful in Ecuador and do as the locals do, you can live a decent life without spending US prices. But in general I would say that Peru is 50% cheaper to live and travel through…sometimes even cheaper than that.

Climate

What’s warmer, or colder, or wetter, or drier? Ecuador or Peru?

Yes.

They’re both warm, cold, wet, and dry. Given the altitude, in the Andes regions of both countries, there is a greater difference between daytime and nighttime temperatures than there is between “summer” and “winter”. In the heat of the day, if the sun is shining, temperatures can hit 20 degrees Celsius. At night, depending on the time of year, it’s in the low single-digits.

In truth, there isn’t even a “summer” or “winter” in the Andes; there’s the rainy season, and the rest of the year. The timing of the rainy season depends on who you talk to, but in both countries it is around the February-April time frame. And when it’s cloudy or rainy, the temperature can drop dramatically.

However, the lower in altitude you are, the warmer it gets. Head to Machu Picchu in Peru and you’ll feel much warmer than Cusco, or Pisac, or Urubamba. Similarly in Ecuador, the southern region of Vilcabamba has beautiful lush scenery and botanical life, along with a steadier and warmer climate than Cuenca.

Vilcabamba (Ecuador) vs. Pisac (Peru)

This whole post was inspired by a short trip I made to Vilcabamba in the south of Ecuador, while I was living in the rural Andes near Cuenca. Vilcabamba is considered to be the “sister town” to Pisac in the Sacred Valley of Peru – where I lived for over two years. So, long before setting foot in Ecuador, I’d heard all about Vilcabamba, and was keen to visit.

I was underwhelmed and unimpressed to say the least.

Now to be fair, I spent just a few days in Vilcabamba, and a few years in Pisac. So I probably didn’t give it enough of a chance. For me, Vilcabamba was kind of like that hit movie that everybody raves about and tells you is the best movie ever and that you must see it. More often than not when you eventually do see the movie, it can’t possibly live up to your expectations. Vilcabamba was that movie for me.

The markets in Vilcabamba didn’t even hold a candle to Pisac. The food wasn’t that great (or cheap). The people were generally nice, but I’ve heard of instances of violence towards foreigners that I never heard of nor experienced in Pisac. I’ll elaborate more on these concepts below.

Markets

In general, Cusco is the gateway to the Sacred Valley in Peru, as Cuenca is the jumping off point for the Cajas and other Andean regions of Ecuador. Similarly for small town life, Pisac (in Peru) and Vilcabamba (in Ecuador) are comparable. But in neither case did I find the local markets (as in, markets selling artisan goods) comparable.

Cuenca has an artisan market set up at plaza San Francisco, as well as a number of shops in the historical district selling wares like ponchos, alpaca sweaters, bags, blankets, scarves, and a variety of chachkas and souvenirs. There’s lots of selection…unless you’ve been to Cusco, with exponentially more open-air marketplaces and stores alike, with even more colour and variety of wares.

Similarly, Pisac features the largest market in the Sacred Valley; an enterprise of over 100 outdoor stalls that take up a huge square the size of a city block, and spills onto adjacent streets. It’s vibrant every day of the week, and on Sundays it kicks into even higher gear with locals coming in from surrounding rural towns to sell produce, handicrafts, meals, and more. Imagine my surprise when I rolled into Vilcabamba and found their market (Sundays only) to be about 10 tables with some beaded jewelry, crystals, homemade soaps, and dreamcatchers.

Andean culture

Whether you go to Ecuador or Peru, you’ll find Andean culture and history alive and well. The indigenous style of dress is similar, though perhaps a bit more colourful in Peru. It can be difficult in both places to connect personally with indigenous Andean people; sometimes due to their rural lifestyle and location, and sometimes due to their speaking other languages such as Quechua. But in general they’re friendly, generous, and genuine.

Expat Culture

The relative number of expats in the Andes of Ecuador or Peru are about the same. In Cuenca and Cusco there are similar percentages of expats, and fairly small percentages at that. Both Pisac and Vilcabamba are heavily visited and lived in by expats.

In Peru, most of the expats I met were travelers at heart, many of whom are spiritual seekers (with a heavy side of “hippie”). Ecuador sees a lot more American retirees looking for a cheap place to live, presumably because Ecuador has been the darling of International Living, who boasts Ecuador’s easy immigration laws for retirees on fixed pensions. In truth, the immigration laws aren’t much different in Peru; maybe the use of the US dollar in Ecuador makes American retirees feel a bit more secure. I’m not sure.

Attitude Towards Expats

This is where the Ecuador or Peru picture skews a bit. I overheard many more animated conversations about expats in Ecuador than I ever did in Peru. Cuenca’s “Gringolandia” neighbourhood of expats who (apparently) don’t particularly care to integrate with Ecuadorian culture is the recipient of much consternation. I’m not aware of a comparable neighbourhood in Cusco.

Both Pisac and Vilcabamba are bigtime expat communities – for better and worse. In both places if you want to, you can get by speaking only English (this is not a plus in my books; it just is what it is). The difference is the attitude of the locals towards expats in these particular towns. In Pisac, I always felt safe, even walking late at night outside of town by myself. In Vilcabamba, it’s discouraged. There have been armed robberies in and around Vilcabamba, and even a kidnapping a few years ago.

The source of this violence seems to be from a local population that has lost control of its own town. Expats moving in and opening businesses with expat-prices have made the cost of land – and the cost of living – impossible for some locals to keep up with. This has created resentment, and a bit of a dark cloud that sits over the place.

See also: The Irony of Expat Life; Pros and Cons

Level of Development

Some of these challenges with expats and local resentment might have something to do with the level of development in Ecuador or Peru. To my observation, Ecuador is a slightly more developed country than Peru. You see it in the way people dress, how houses are constructed, local infrastructure, and the cost of living. Although the differences are minute, it might be just enough to make Peruvian locals grateful for the influx of foreign money, and Ecuadorian locals resentful of it. This is a very broad observation though, which doesn’t apply across the board.

Ruins, and Architecture

History buffs (especially those intrigued by Incan culture and ruins) should head straight to Peru. There are ruins everywhere in Peru – some maintained, and some just sitting there unassumingly by the side of the road.

Peru even has Ecuador beat in simple architecture and aesthetics; something that I presume is ironically an adverse effect of Ecuador being a bit more developed. In the Peruvian Andes (especially in rural areas), a lot of houses are made from adobe bricks and natural materials. It’s sometimes a raw look, but quite uniform overall, and for me, a whole lot more charming (and environmentally friendlier).

Ecuador, by contrast, uses a lot of concrete blocks. Sometimes they’re covered over with some sort of cement and paint, often not. In both countries, the more rural the location, the less finished the look is, which stands to reason.

Plant Medicine: Ecuador or Peru

In my recent post about my adventures in shamanism over the last three years, I cited some of the differences in working with plant medicine (ayahuasca and san pedro) between Ecuador or Peru. The shamanic training process is different, as is the style of ceremonies. One is not better than the other. They’re just different. Ecuadorian ceremonies, for example, feature the use of a sacred fire, which is tended throughout the ceremony.

Due to the difference in the cost of living and currency, plant medicine ceremonies in Peru are generally cheaper than Ecuador. And because Peru is a much more known “destination” for san pedro and ayahuasca, you’ll get more selection. But simply roll into Pisac or Vilcabamba, and with a few questions (and some due diligence to ensure it’s a safe place and experienced shaman you feel comfortable with), you’ll fairly easily find a place to drink plant medicine.

Cuisine

Peruvian food is the “new black” in world cuisine. I’ve seen Peruvian restaurants dotted around the world, and there are people who travel to Peru just for the food. So it’s a tough standard for Ecuador to compare to. I think one of the secrets to Peruvian cuisine are the seasonings and local peppers they use.

Being immediately to the north of Peru, I was surprised that similar ingredients weren’t on the menu in Ecuador. Don’t get me wrong – some of the local soups are lovely, and if you like roast pork, you must head to a market or roadside stall for hornado. But for me, Peru comes out tops (by far) in the food department.

Ecuador or Peru? Moral of the Story

If you’ve made it this far, I think you’ll agree my conclusion is pretty obvious. If you want to visit the Andes, go to Peru.

I’ve often emphasized that travel is very contextual. When people ask me what my favourite country is, I preface any answer with an explanation that you and I could visit the very same place and have wildly different experiences. That’s because context is crucial; who you’re with, what you’re doing, and how you’re feeling at the time are equally – if not more – important than the place itself.

I had a different experience in Ecuador than Peru. Neither was better than the other – they were just different. So while I’ve tried to be as objective as possible in this analysis of visiting the Andes of Ecuador or Peru, something about Peru resonated with me more as a comprehensive destination. I may have had my heart broken in Peru, but on the whole I had a more colourful and vibrant life there.

Would I return to Ecuador? Sure. Peru? You bet. But if or when I return to either country, I won’t go in an attempt to recapture old times. They’re gone. I have many friends who I knew in Peru who returned there for subsequent visits, and they were uniformly let down by their favourite old haunts. Places change. People change. But in general, if you want an Andean mountain experience, book a ticket to Peru. You won’t be disappointed.

This post Visiting the Andes: Ecuador or Peru? appeared first on The Professional Hobo. Please click through to read it in full!

Let me tell you a bit about how all this happened, what it’s like to learn to be an ayahuasca and san pedro shaman, and where it’s all going.

This post was originally published in 2017. It has since been updated for accuracy of links and content. 

Learning to be an Ayahuasca and San Pedro Shaman in Peru

When I landed in Peru for the first time in March 2014, I had no idea what the following year had in store. Sure, I had known about ayahuasca for years and had been quietly calling it into my life, so I knew I’d participate in a ceremony or two. But as one thing led to another, my life veered in a new direction, and I took up an apprenticeship with a shaman there. (If you want to read the whole scoop on how that happened, check out Becoming a Shaman).

What it’s Like to Apprentice With a Shaman

There is no actual manual or official process for this stuff – at least in Peru (we’ll explore some of the differences by country later on). And depending on the teacher (and the student), every apprenticeship is different.

Actually, if there were a manual, my life would have been much easier. I’m a smart girl; give me the textbook and I’ll study it, take the exam, and earn the accreditation. Blamo.

Instead, this apprenticeship was a very counter-intuitive process for me.

As with many spiritual endeavours, shamanism is not about book-learning or other such heady pursuits. Instead, it’s about things that are way more intangible. In fact, as I’ve learned (and am still learning), the less I try to be this or feel that, the more smoothly wisdom and knowledge comes. It’s about getting out of my head and honouring my intuition, which ultimately can’t be taught or learned in any conventional format.

Has this been frustrating for me? You betcha. But ultimately rewarding? Hell yes.

But…specifics. You probably want to know what I actually did as a shaman’s apprentice.

In Peru, I assisted my teacher with all his ceremonies and retreats. Logistically, people often need assistance during ceremonies. Depending on the ceremony (san pedro or ayahuasca), this can entail tasks like helping people to the bathroom, offering tissue if somebody is crying, and emptying puke buckets (mostly specific to ayahuasca ceremonies – a glorious job).

Aside from the logistics, the ceremony is spent singing medicine songs (known as icaros), which call in certain energies and spirits, protect the space, and help to move stuck energy. Icaros can be sung to the group in general, or to specific people, sometimes done in conjunction with body and energy work similar to reiki or massage.

As an assistant/apprentice, I learned many icaros and sang them as needed (to the group as a whole or to specific people). I was available to help people in need when my teacher wasn’t around, or when a female energy was specifically required. Sometimes it was a matter of answering questions, providing assistance, doing bodywork, or simply offering a much-needed hug.

When I wasn’t assisting my teacher with his ceremonies, I continued my apprenticeship by participating in ceremonies, both with my teacher and other curanderos (healers). I also did a few plant dietas, including one in the jungles of Peru with my teacher’s teacher. (See also: A Month in the Jungle: Doing a Plant Diet and Ayahuasca Retreat)

Moving on From Peru

Despite a very close relationship and reciprocal commitment between my teacher and I in Peru, it didn’t last. (See also: Apprenticeship Update: BIG Changes for The Professional Hobo)

It was a heartbreaking upheaval in my life, but one that ultimately had to happen. With a good dose of retrospect and wound-licking, I can now see how divine this turn of events was.

I’m honoured to have learned so many things from my former teacher in Peru. He spent his whole life in the pursuit of spirituality in various ways that married well in his unique work as a shaman. Among other things, he was an effective bridge between the western psychology of most participants, and the native South American medicines and cosmology. This allowed participants to get the most from the experience and integrate the lessons learned, so that the ceremony became a lasting form of healing and not just a “trip”.

In working with my former teacher, I gained an arsenal of experience and wisdom that serves me today, both in and out of ceremony.

When I left Peru, I also left behind any ideas I had of working with the medicine or becoming an ayahuasca and san pedro shaman. I knew that if I were meant to continue this work, I would be led back to it.

And so it was.

Continuing the Journey in Ecuador

Similar to Peru, it wasn’t plant medicine that drew me to Ecuador; it was a house-sitting gig. After a few months in the States after leaving Peru, I was offered a house-sit for a couple of months in Cuenca, and off I went.

My timing was impeccable, because a friend of mine who has worked and facilitated at a variety of ayahuasca and san pedro retreat centres, had just taken a position as manager of Gaia Sagrada, which just happened to be an hour outside of Cuenca where I was staying.

So I visited the retreat centre, and did a san pedro ceremony with the staff there. I liked the property and the people, and was offered a chance to work there. But after my experience in Peru, I was gun-shy. So I decided to do a retreat as a participant once I had finished house-sitting.

I ended up doing two retreats, and at the end of it, I committed to return a couple of months later as a staff member.

Learning to be a Shaman in Ecuador

The process of becoming an ayahuasca and san pedro shaman in Ecuador is very different to Peru. In Peru, it’s about doing plant dietas (a dieta being an intensive process involving weeks of isolation, a ridiculously simple diet, drinking special teas, and doing ayahuasca ceremonies). In Ecuador, it’s about doing vision quests, sun dances, and working with the elders. And although there is an official four-year process of vision quests and sun dances, there still is no manual or specific way to learn the art of shamanism.

I’ve been lucky in Ecuador, because the shamans at the retreat centre here have acknowledged my training and relationship with ayahuasca and san pedro, and thus have given me some great opportunities to assist and even help lead ceremonies, even though I’m not formally trained in the Ecuadorian way. And because the ceremonial format is a bit different in Ecuador (or at least among the Ecuadorian shamans I’ve worked with), it has been a great chance to learn even more about the various ways to hold a ceremony. In addition to singing in ceremony and performing certain blessings and prayers, I’ve also learned how to tend the sacred ceremonial fires – which is a pretty big deal.

So, my apprenticeship has continued whilst living in Ecuador. I’ve expanded my skill sets greatly, and also been able to bring some of my knowledge and practices that I learned in Peru to help and support retreat participants in new ways. I’ve learned new icaros from the shamans in Ecuador, and I’ve taught them some of my icaros from Peru. My apprenticeship is much more informal; instead of answering to one teacher, I have many to learn from, and I’m also learning that the ultimate teachers are the plants themselves (ayahuasca and san pedro).

Becoming a Healer

My former teacher in Peru was fond of telling people that there’s nothing to fix. We are already perfect as we are – lumps, bumps, and all. What he offered, was an opportunity for people to come home to themselves, and in so doing, to learn, to grow, to heal, and ultimately, to wake up.

This too, was a counter-intuitive process for me. For the longest time I couldn’t understand what my teacher meant when saying “there’s nothing to fix”. When I first arrived in Peru in early 2014 and started doing plant medicine (san pedro and ayahuasca) ceremonies, you could say I was a broken woman – physically and emotionally. I’d recently escaped an emotionally exhausting relationship, and I’d suffered a near-fatal accident a year prior. In my first six weeks of doing ayahuasca and san pedro ceremonies, I experienced immense – even miraculous – healing. I accomplished more than 10 years of psychotherapy could get close to, in addition to physical healing that I initially thought would be impossible. For example, the scars (not to mention the chronic pain) from my accident the year prior practically disappeared.

Is this not “fixing”? Well, no. Not entirely. To approach any healing process with an idea that we need fixing is to focus on what we feel is wrong with us. And as long as we continue to focus on what’s “wrong”, the more energy we give to that idea (of something being wrong, and needing fixing), and the less we have the opportunity to change that story.

On the premise that there’s nothing to fix, so follows that the healer doesn’t heal. In the arena of ayahuasca and san pedro healing, the “shaman” (which although I’ve used this term a few times now, I do so begrudgingly – see my note below) simply facilitates and holds space for the plant medicine to do its own work, and ultimately for the “patient” to heal themselves. This theory applies to most healing modalities; and any healer who insists that it is solely their own personal talents and efforts that heal people, should be given a wide berth in my opinion.

A Final Note About Being a “Shaman”

I’ve used the word “shaman” quite a bit in this post, and a few others as well. I do so because it’s an easily accessible term, but it’s also fraught with obscurity and can create a slippery slope for the “shaman” in question.

See, the word shaman is simply a catch-all term for a healer, more specifically a healer who uses indigenous healing arts. For some shamans, it’s holding ayahuasca and san pedro ceremonies. For other shamans, it’s working with other indigenous plants, or spirits, or elements, or energetic forms of healing.

So, to be a shaman actually doesn’t mean much of anything. And yet, it does. The sheer title of “shaman” catapults the healer in question to a sort of rockstar status, surrounded by intrigue and magic. This creates a slippery slope for the shaman, who can easily let all those accolades go to their head, at which point ego can work its way into the job. And once ego gets in there, it can be harmful for both the shaman and the patient in question. I’ve seen it happen – it ain’t pretty.

So please forgive me for even supposing that I am – or will be – a “shaman”. Maybe I am already one, or will become one. But truly, I’m just Nora, and I like it that way.

What’s Next for Nora

I have no idea what’s next. I’ve enjoyed my time in Ecuador, learning so much about ayahuasca and san pedro shamanism, and being given great opportunities to assist the shamans. But living and working at a busy retreat centre can be exhausting, especially with an online business to run as well.

As such, I’ve decided I will move on from Gaia Sagrada in June. I may well return, but for the moment, I need a breather, to take a step back and re-evaluate a few things.

In the same way that there’s no manual for becoming an ayahuasca and san pedro shaman, there’s no manual for life. One of my biggest challenges (and when successful, greatest gifts) has been to simply accept the present moment for what it is, without projecting into the future or dragging up stuff from the past.

I have no idea if I’m going to become a full-fledged ayahuasca and san pedro shaman. I don’t know if I’ll ever offer my own ceremonies. If I do, I don’t know if it will be in Ecuador, or Peru, or another country entirely. As much as living a life where my future is a giant question mark can be unsettling, it’s also a gift, and I’m accepting that gift with both patience and an open mind.

2019 Update: While working with plant medicines irrefutably changed my life, I don’t currently have any desire to return to my work as a “shaman”. This is for a variety of reasons, including concerns I have about the environmental sustainability of ayahuasca and san pedro, and my observations of people who are using it for the wrong reasons. But more than anything, I’m simply not called to it in the way that I once was. Perhaps it has served its purpose in my life….at least, for now. 

This post Learning to be an Ayahuasca and San Pedro Shaman appeared first on The Professional Hobo. Please click through to read it in full!

This post was originally published in 2017. It has since been updated for accuracy of links and content.

I was recently in San Diego, visiting my friend Aline who I met in Peru. She has visited Peru many times, including a six month stint when I was there. In fact, at the time, both she and I wanted to move to Peru; something Aline is still considering. (Me, not so much).

So while we were busy in San Diego catching up on old times and sharing Peru travel stories, we decided to tun on the camera and chat about what life was like in Peru (for better and worse), and some of the key differences between life in a place like Peru and the USA.

In this vlog, we discuss some of the challenges of living in Peru, such as strikes, water/power shutoffs, avoiding parasites, lack of variety of goods, and even what we do with toilet paper. We also discuss what it’s like to return to the USA and some of the challenges that create a feeling of disconnection.

But life in the States ain’t all bad, in fact it’s very comfortable. And we discuss how that comfort zone might prevent some people from leaving home, but why it doesn’t have to.

Lastly, Aline shares a great secret about how to “stay young” by traveling the world.

Check it out!

Peru Travel: Living in Peru vs USA (VLOG Ep. 5)

Click here to watch it on YouTube.

This post Peru Travel: Living in Peru vs. USA (Vlog Ep. 5) appeared first on The Professional Hobo. Please click through to read it in full!

Come along for the journey! I’m recapping all that was 2016 for better and worse.

This post was originally published in 2017. It has since been updated for accuracy of links and content. 

January – February: Peru

I rang in the new year in my cozy house in the Sacred Valley in Peru; a place that had been my home base for almost two years. I continued to work with my teacher as his assistant with plant medicine ceremonies. I also did a few excursions, notably to The Ruins of Tipon (A Marvel in Irrigation).

To make space for my shamanic pursuits, I was also in the process scaling down my online activities (and thus, income). Interestingly, I didn’t feel the pinch, and it inspired me to reflect on past incomes and lifestyles and write about Lifestyle Inflation (How Earning Money Sucks the Life Outta You).

From January through April, I was also running around like a decapitated chicken collecting and translating, notarizing, etc a dizzying array of documents required to apply for residency in Peru.

March: Canada, Ireland

I won a trip to Ireland! Yessiree, I won a trip, through a random sweepstakes. The trip included flights, accommodation, and rental car for two people, departing from Canada. There was no contest in deciding who to invite; I took my Mum.

So I hopped on a plane from Peru to Canada to pick Mum up and off we flitted through Ireland for a week of incredible scenery, beautiful drives, a few pints, and lots of indulging in the melodic Irish accent – which is probably my favourite accent, and one I can’t help but imitate when I’m in the presence of it.

April-June: Peru

I returned to Peru with a(nother) suitcase of odds and ends to facilitate my “nesting” process there. Unfortunately, a surprising and heartbreaking turn of events awaited my arrival. The day I got back I was informed by my teacher/landlord/boss/friend that our arrangement was over. I had two weeks to move out, I lost all the efforts (and funds) expended to get my residency, and I felt pretty lost and confused.

Thus was triggered a massive process of healing for me, which lasted a few months. (Months that, with a dose of hindsight, flew by, but of course in the throes of it I was a total mess).

But I had people and angels alike looking out for me. I was offered places to stay, warm company, and lots of support. Knowing that I would soon be hitting the road again in a proverbially homeless way, I also needed to kick up my income again, and as if by magic, I was offered a new monthly column at Ingle International, in addition to my longstanding “Dear Nora” column on CreditWalk.

June-August: USA (Florida)

By mid-June, my Peruvian visa was running out, and I knew I had to cut myself loose from Peru in order to continue healing. So I left Peru, as well as my ideas of working with plant medicine, knowing that I would be led back to one or the other (or both) if it were meant to be.

I capped off my 2+ years in Peru with a hike to Mount Pitusiray with the first two friends I made with in Peru. It was a trip full of poetry, and a few tears shed amongst the three of us.

From Peru, I chose to “land” at the house of a friend I’ve known for over 20 years, who always keeps me laughing and with whom I can share anything. That friend lives in south Florida (Hollywood, to be exact), and two months with her were paramount to getting back on my feet again. I’m ever grateful to her for everything she did for me in that time, and for helping me see the levity in it all.

And as anticipated, my time in Florida was fraught with lessons and emotions – old and new. I was curiously amused at myself when I experienced many of the same core fears and challenges that plagued me (and most travelers) when I started traveling so many years ago now. Here’s a post about these challenges, as well as my quirky life in Florida: Hobo Update: Relearning Travel’s Inherent Lessons.

August: Canada

Before I left Florida I just had to stop in to meet the Anatomie crew (designers of my favourite travel clothing) and stock up on a few new pieces. Then, I returned to Canada to visit family and friends for a few weeks, and to celebrate my 40^th birthday, along with my two oldest friends who were turning 40 at the same time. We did the spa, partied it up in Niagara Falls, and topped it off with some winery tours. We even got matching tattoos!

September: Ecuador

I arrived in Ecuador (a new country for me) in early September for a house-sitting gig, and I loved it. I was in Cuenca, which is similar to Cusco in Peru (but better).

When I wasn’t taking in the sites, foods, and pace of life, I was taking a hard look at my business in search some new inspiration. I participated in a daily challenge to get me thinking about these things, and out of it popped the idea to start a new video podcast (or vlog – a term I’m reluctantly acclimatizing to). You can learn more about what led me to this in my first episode, here: Stairway to Freedom.

October: Ecuador

My house-sitting gig ended mid-October, at which point I headed to a plant medicine retreat centre about an hour outside of Cuenca in the mountains. My introduction to the place was quite serendipitous, and it was a way for me to say “hello” to plant medicine again.

I participated in two consecutive retreats there over the next month or so, and was given countless signs that I was in the right place, and I was encouraged to pursue my shamanic endeavours there.

I also filmed and published my second popular vlog: Fun Facts You Didn’t Know About The Professional Hobo.

November: Ecuador

As November drew to a close, so too did my Ecuadorian visa. After almost three months in Ecuador, I gained a unique sense of the place. Overall I loved every part of it. But there were a few things that confused me about the place, which I wrote in a post called Cuenca Ecuador: A City of Confusing Contrast.

Before I left, I was invited to return to Gaia Sagrada in the new year to volunteer and help run the place. The shamans all expressed their desire for me to return and continue to work with them, which was heartwarming.

So after packing my stuff (See Vlog Episode 3: Travel Packing – How to Pack For Full-Time Travel), I said “see ya later” (instead of “goodbye”) to Ecuador and my new friends there, with intentions of returning in January on an extended visa.

December: USA (San Diego, LA, Florida)

Where to go for the 2016 holiday season? After the amazing time I had in Florida with my friend earlier in the year, the choice seemed easy. Back to Florida!

But I wasn’t just staying local this time; shortly after releasing my annual Giant Travel Gear Roundup of travel clothes/gear/services/books/etc I’ve tested throughout the year, I hopped on a plane to visit a friend in San Diego for a week, and another friend in LA for a few days.

The rest of the month was spent in Florida, visiting with a variety of friends from other lands who also thought that spending the holiday season in Florida was a pretty fine idea.

What’s Next?

That’s a good question. At the moment, I’m still in Florida, but in a few weeks I’ll be returning to Ecuador to spend a few months (up to six) at Gaia Sagrada. I don’t know where all this plant medicine work will lead, but I also don’t need to know. I’ll stay there as long as it feels good, and I’ll move on when it’s time. I’m pretty zen about it at the moment!

Previous Annual Summaries

My First Four Years of Full-Time Travel (2007-2010, including Canada, Hawaii, Thailand, Malaysia, Singapore, Australia, USA, Mexico, New Zealand, Spain, Germany, France, England, Scotland, Ireland, Nepal)

What I did in 2011 (13 countries, 73,000 kms, including New Zealand, Canada, USA, Sweden, Portugal, Spain, Switzerland, Czech Republic, Ukraine, Russia, China, Vietnam, Grenada)

What I did in 2012 (8 countries and 20,000 miles, including Grenada, St. Martin, BVIs, USA, Switzerland, France, England, Canada)

What I did in 2013 (12 countries and 29,000 miles, including Grenada, USA, Canada, England, Scotland, Holland, Norway, Denmark, Germany, Ukraine, France, Panama)

What I did in 2014 (7 countries and 34,000 miles, including Panama, USA, Canada, Peru, Spain, Gibraltar, Italy)

What I did in 2015 (6 countries and 35,000 miles, including Peru, Colombia, USA, Costa Rica, Canada, Bolivia)

This post 5 Countries and 30,000 Miles: This Was 2016! appeared first on The Professional Hobo. Please click through to read it in full!

Mount Pitusiray was great for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was that it would be the last hike that I would share with my friend Laura, and our guide Miguel. Almost 2.5 years prior when I arrived in Peru, we three met and shared our first trek together, to Machu Picchu.

Over the last couple of years (and hikes), Laura and Miguel and I became great friends. And although Miguel isn’t going anywhere, both Laura and I have departed Peru (in different directions, for different reasons), and we’re not sure if we’ll ever meet in Peru again. (See also: Apprenticeship Update: BIG Changes for The Professional Hobo).

Seeing that I like full-circle experiences, to both start and end this Peruvian chapter of my life with these two people, trekking in the mountains, seemed nothing short of the sort of poetry I’ve come to expect out of life.

This post was originally published in 2016. It has since been updated for accuracy of links and content.

Mount Pitusiray: The Hike

Our hike to Mount Pitusiray started at the end of the road (again, poetic in so many ways) above the town of Calca. From there it was up, up, and up some more as we zigzagged to the top of a ridge overlooking the Sacred Valley in both directions.

Just when I thought I couldn’t get any more remote, I’d stumble on a house. This one has a great view of the valley in both directions.

Then, we put the valley to our backs and approached Mount Pitusiray, looming around the next corner.

Eventually, we reached a small lake at the base of the peak of Mount Pitusiray, which got increasingly more majestic the closer we got. We circumnavigated the lake before setting up camp to one side, held in the semicircular cradle of Pitusiray’s jagged peaks.

The Shadows of Pitusiray – a Major Mystery and Attraction

The actual height of Pitusiray is debatable; I’ve seen figures from 4,990-5,400+ metres above sea level. Either way, it’s very high (and at night, it’s very cold – consider yourself warned).

On this particular May day we had the place to ourselves. But at the end of September each year, for just three days, Mount Pitusiray is is overrun with people. Why? Because of The Shadows.

Mount Pitusiray is considered to be a solar clock of sorts, and for three days per year, as the sun rises over the peak of Pitusiray, it casts a set of dynamic shadows on the peak behind it. These shadows take many forms, including that of an Inca warrior, being consumed by a puma (the puma being an important totem in Andean cosmology).

Nobody knows if these shadows were somehow engineered, since Pitusiray doesn’t appear to have been carved, yet the shadows are apparently unmistakable.

“You have to see it to believe it,” said Miguel, who was not the first person to use this exact phrase about The Shadows of Pitusiray before.

But given that September is a few too many months away, I’ll have to take Miguel’s word for it since this will be my last post about Peru for the time being.

Thus, with amazing company and thrilling views, we three enjoyed a gorgeous sunset from our camp, and the company of some neighbouring llamas the next morning, before hiking back down into the Sacred Valley and moving on.

Other Peruvian Treks You Can’t Miss

Trekking to Lares Hot Springs

Trekking the Andes: Birthing Llamas, Abandoned Villages, and Rain

Kinsa Cocha: Stunning Pictures of High Andean Lakes

Machu Picchu

Climbing Pachatusan, and Taking Refuge in a Quechua Home

Hiking up to Pisac Ruins

The Pilgrimage to Huchuy Qosqo

This post Trekking Mount Pitusiray, in Peru appeared first on The Professional Hobo. Please click through to read it in full!

And so I wrote an update. It was beautiful. It delved into what it’s like to apprentice with a shaman, to work with plant medicines, to learn an art that has no textbook or checklist of learning points, what it is to be a “healer”, and the long-term reciprocal commitment my teacher and I had made to one another in working together.

And then, before I got a chance to publish this most excellent update, everything changed.

Everything.

This post was originally published in 2016. It has since been updated for accuracy of links and content. 

Apprenticeship Update: Big Changes

These big changes went down in April, but I haven’t had the heart – nor the words – to say much about it until now. Even now, I don’t feel ready for what I’m about to write; somehow to put it in writing and publish it for the world to see makes it all the more real. More permanent. And given my current circumstances, that reality and finality has been both painful and scary.

But here goes.

The day I returned to my home in Peru after spending a few weeks in Canada and Ireland, my teacher sat me down for a talk. Without preamble, he pulled the plug on everything.

I would no longer be studying plant medicine with him.

I would no longer be assisting him with all his ceremonies and retreats.

I would need to move out of the house I was living in, which was on his property.

The assistance he was giving me in attaining my Peruvian residency would end, and all the hard work (and money) dedicated since January to get my residency was for naught.

And given the above four abrupt and hurtful announcements, our deep friendship was over.

The circumstances that led my teacher to this decision are largely irrelevant – or at least out of the scope of what I’m prepared to write about at this time. In short, it was unexpected, and very much unwanted.

What’s Next for The Professional Hobo?

That’s a really good question, and another reason why I’ve hesitated to write about all this.

I don’t know what’s next.

I have no answers. After eight years of full-time travel, I was really happy to have found a place I wanted to call “home” – even though I wasn’t consciously looking for “home” all those years. And in my 2+ years in Peru, I had found home, community, and a new exciting life path of working with plant medicine.

But in the last couple of months of remaining here after these changes, I’ve come to understand that I need to leave Peru – at least for a while – for my own healing and growth.

When I sold everything in Canada in 2006 to go traveling, I kept six boxes of stuff. In those six boxes were precious items that I couldn’t bear to part with; things that I thought might eventually go into a home – wherever and whenever such a thing would come to pass. And having found that home in Peru, I made a commitment and brought a lot of this stuff down with me during my last three trips to Canada. Add into the mix a variety of acquisitions (in the name of “nesting” and making my home more comfortable), and I’m no longer feeling anywhere near as mobile as I once was.

But mobile I must be. So I’m getting rid of everything (again), and reconnecting with that deep-seated fear – fear of the unknown, and of loss of control – and once again, breathing into it while preparing to make another leap of faith.

It’s terrifying….but it’s also liberating.

Not Knowing: I’ve Been Through This Before

In 2011, after four years on the road, I returned to Canada from New Zealand for the summer. I had absolutely no idea what I would be doing (or where) at the end of my time in Canada. I wrote an article about how at peace I was with this predicament (a poetic piece if I say so myself) – which was helpful for me to recently reread. (Curious? It’s this: Destiny is a Direction).

In the post I wrote about how I was sitting patiently waiting for the right opportunity to grab me. And it eventually did, serendipitously and just in time: I did the Ultimate Train Challenge, which involved traveling from Lisbon to Saigon in 30 days, all by train. (25,000kms in 30 days….it was an adventure that is chronicled in my book Tales of Trains: Where the Journey is the Destination).

From there, opportunities (at times coming in the strangest of ways) kept lining up for me, as they had in years gone by and did for years to come.

Fast forward to today. Once again, I’m at the whim of the world.

When the world is your oyster, where do you begin?

In my experience, mapping out your destiny/destinations without knowing what to do or where to start can be a bit excruciating.

(I wrote about this, and the concept that “choice” is not always a gift, in this post: The Paralysis of Choice)

So I’ve taken a page from my own book and just chilled out. Despite having lost my “home”, I’ve had places to stay in Peru courtesy of generous friends, and there has been no need to go anywhere or make any decisions more complicated than what to eat for dinner.

But this process of sitting in the discomfort of the unknown isn’t easy by any stretch (especially this time around, with this life change being brought upon me rather than instigated by me).

I don’t tend to choose my destinations; they choose me – usually in the form of a unique opportunity for free accommodation, visiting friends, attending events, or otherwise.

Serendipity has been a great guide for me in years’ past, and I trust it will continue to be. So I’ve kept my eyes and ears open for opportunities, and given my relatively blank slate, I’m curious to see what pops onto my radar next….and where.

It’s already paying off, with a number of opportunities (some of them quite unexpected) trickling in to slowly formulate a plan. The plan is far from solid, because I have an intuitive sense that I still need to wait for a few other pieces to fall into place. But I’m not far off spreading my wings and taking to a life on the road once again.

Whatever and wherever it is, I’m sure it will be good.

My Plant Medicine Path

In moments of greater clarity and selflessness, I see how this turn of events with my teacher is a gift – in more ways than one. I lived a charmed life working alongside him, and went seamlessly from being my teacher’s client, to his neighbour/tenant, to his student, friend, and assistant. (I believe this was also one of the root causes of the end of it all; too many blurred lines between these different aspects of our relationship).

Although any work with plant medicine and personal transformation is a tough road fraught with hard work, on many days I felt that my tough road was laced with diamonds. I was so blessed – as if it was almost too easy to step into this new career and lifestyle.

But the hard yards (at least on this path) are generally best walked alone. In order to develop my own relationship with ayahuasca and san pedro, and in order to develop my own “brand” or flavour of healing medicine, my hand can’t be held through the process.

I don’t know if I’m ever going to become a “shaman”. I’ll have to see what happens in the coming months and years. But I do know that on a personal level, I’ll continue to study and work with these plants that have changed my life and way of being.

Lessons Learned

I’ve learned a lot through having the rug pulled out from under me. They are good life lessons that I’ve taken on board (or been reminded of), and appreciate, such as:

Don’t put all your eggs in one basket. Student/teacher relationships are best not commingled with friendship. In my case, my teacher had become a central person in my life in just about every arena (except romantically). He was my landlord, teacher, boss, and friend. So in the dissolution of our relationship, everything crumbled and I was forced to make a full life change.

You earn your stripes during the hard times. These last couple of months haven’t been pretty. It’s all well and good to be “spiritual” during the easy times, but it’s when life throws you a sucker punch that you have a real chance to put into practice what you’ve learned. And I’m pleased to discover that I have a new understanding of many things as a result of having been through this crisis; I met the situation with a significantly higher level of awareness and compassion (towards myself and others), and been rewarded for it with a deeper sense of self and trust. This experience has been even more “enlightening” than the most “enlightening” of plant medicine ceremonies. And it’s because of the work I’ve done with plant medicine that I have this heightened awareness. It is said that the real ceremony begins when the plant medicine ceremony ends; personal growth and integration of ceremonial teachings happens fastest when we’re faced with challenges.

Life changes (aka sh*t happens). Nothing is a sure thing. And to think that anything in your life is a sure thing is not only dangerous but arrogant. Control is an illusion. The original tagline of my blog (way back in the pioneer days when I called it “Life Happens”) was “Life happens while we’re busy making plans”. And so it is.

All we have is the present moment. Whenever I’ve thought that “this is it” about something in my life as if it would remain that way forever, I’ve been taught that it can change – whether we bring in that change ourselves, or whether it’s brought upon us. The dissolution of my marriage (yes, I was married once), my lifestyle change to embrace full-time travel, surviving natural disasters, breakups on the road, a near-fatal accident, and this recent turn of events are all reminders that planning life  – or rather, counting on it – too far in advance is a gamble.

What we DO have, however, is the present moment, and we can continue to honour those moments for the gifts they bestow. Regardless of what happens in the future, I am grateful for the many precious moments I had in the last couple of years in Peru. They changed my life….as every day that we walk this planet, our lives (and our selves) continue to change.

My mind has been awash with cliches since all this happened, and as annoying as cliches can be at times, they became cliches for good reason; in many instances, they’re true.

This too…shall pass.

Everything happens for a reason.

Where one door closes, another one opens.

Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.

Better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all. 

When the student is ready, the teacher will (dis?)appear.

Damn you, cliches. You’re right.

I’ll cap off this post with another cliche that nicely encapsulates where I’m at without making any commitments to where I’m going:

Onwards and Upwards.

Note: After writing this article, I moved on to continue my studies of plant medicine at a retreat centre in Ecuador for almost nine months. You can learn about this final chapter in my shamanic studies here: Learning to be an Ayahuasca and San Pedro Shaman. 

This post Apprenticeship Update: BIG Changes for The Professional Hobo appeared first on The Professional Hobo. Please click through to read it in full!

This post was published in 2016, and has since been updated for accuracy of links and content.

Tipon Information

Tipon is a 500-acre site near Cusco that is built around a spring. Although in many Peruvian ruins there is evidence of irrigation channels and constructions, Tipon is one of the only places where the irrigation system is still fully functional, with water flowing all year round (even in the dry season). In fact, Tipon has been touted as a masterpiece of water management, and the American Society of Civil Engineers has put Tipon on its list of International Historic Civil Engineering Landmarks.

The actual reason and historical use for Tipon is (as with many Peruvian ruins) not entirely known; it is surmised that it was constructed as part of a country estate for Inca nobility. Some of the finely cut stones and trapezoidal doors and windows imply an imperial air that was reserved for royalty.

Others suggest that Tipon was an agricultural lab (similar to Moray), since the many terraces of Tipon contain different micro-climates that would have been useful for testing various crops.

Others yet suggest that Tipon was a ritual garden, with the terraces constructed in a way that actually channels not only water, but also spirit and energy, from the surrounding mountains and springs into the crops that were likely grown on the terraces.

The Elemental Magic

One of my favourite parts of Tipon, which to me illustrates how architecturally – and spiritually – advanced the Incas were, is this water channel pictured above. The water from its mountain source trickles down and splits into two channels (said to represent heaven and earth); then it splits into four channels (representing the four elements of earth, water, air, and fire), before being reunited into one stream again, pooling in a bath that would have been used in rituals.
See also: Learning to be a Shaman in Peru

Take Some Time to Explore

Although the ruins of Tipon aren’t nearly as extensive as Machu Picchu and others, there’s more to the place than initially meets the eye. Take some time to explore, and you’ll find a sun temple (Intihuitana) which is a key element to many important Peruvian ruins, and lots of different “rooms” or spaces that could have been used for any number of purposes. This secluded room pictured above for example, isn’t particularly easy to find, but looks like it has thrones cut into the stones.

Tipon: The Cuy Capital of Peru

Although there aren’t guinea pigs running around the Peruvian ruins of Tipon, the town below the ruins is famous for its cuy (guinea pig), which is a national delicacy. So while you’re visiting the ruins of Tipon, if you’re an adventurous eater, you’ll want to sample cuy from the area known as the cuy capital of Peru!

How do I Get to Tipon?

The beauty of Tipon is that there are hardly any visitors, so you’ll have the place to yourself. This also means that you won’t likely have access to a guide (as they don’t tend to hang around the entrance) unless you hire one in advance.

My best recommendation for getting to Tipon is to take a taxi from Cusco and ask them to wait for you. You can take the bus or collectivo for a fraction of the price, but then you’ll have to hike 5km up (and I mean UP) the winding road from Tipon town to the ruins (and back down again), which might leave you a bit pooped to explore the ruins themselves.

If you’re interested in learning more about various Peruvian archaeological sites and ruins, check out these posts:

Visiting Pisac Ruins

The Pilgrimage to Huchuy Qosqo

Maras Salt Mines – Unlike Any “Mine” You’ll Ever See

Inca Ruins of Moray: Agricultural Lab or Landing Pad? You Decide.

This post The Peruvian Ruins of Tipon: A Marvel in Irrigation appeared first on The Professional Hobo. Please click through to read it in full!

This came from a friend who I was visiting whilst recently spending two weeks in my hometown of Toronto. When I tried to pay for our coffee with cash, she looked at me like I was from the moon; she shook her head and handed the cashier a plastic card.

“Is that a Tim Horton’s credit card?” I asked, confused as to why coffee shops would be in the credit card business.

“Um…no, Nora. It’s just a store card. You load it up with credit, and just pay for your coffee quickly and easily with it; no messing with cash.”

As I relayed this revelation to another person, they too, looked at me like I was from the moon. “All kinds of stores have these cards now, Nora.”

Right.

After nine years of living abroad and returning to Canada for periodic visits, I no longer suffer from reverse culture shock or other standard traveler ailments, but apparently I’m stuck in a bit of a time-warp. While living in idyllic (and often rural) little corners of the world, I’ve lost touch with what daily life in Canada (and to a greater extent, North America) is like – for better and worse.

Here are some other differences in daily life between Canada and Peru, as observed during my visit. It’s Peru vs Canada. (I wonder who will win.)

This post was originally published in 2015. It has since been updated for accuracy of links and content. 

Plumbing

In Canada, you don’t think twice about flushing toilet paper down the toilet. This is a big no-no in Peru (with the exception of some establishments in major cities like Lima). Peruvian plumbing and water treatment systems just can’t handle toilet paper, so you quickly adapt to the habit of putting toilet paper in a garbage bin.

While in Canada, I actually felt strange about putting my toilet paper in the toilet; a sign that I’d adapted to Peruvian daily life more than I thought.

Water Water Everywhere

Along the lines of plumbing, I was delighted to return to Canada and actually be able to drink the tap water and use it for brushing my teeth. You have to be incredibly careful about tap water in Peru; even rinsing a cup with tap water and reusing it (without drying it thoroughly) is begging for a stomach full of crippling parasites and bacteria. Filtered/treated/bottled water is used for everything – even brushing your teeth. (Here’s how I deal with my water in Peru: Dealing With Parasites – A Guide to Clean Water Around the World).

And since you can drink the tap water in most places in Canada (which some people might argue isn’t potable, but trust me, after experiencing Peruvian water – it is), I was also delighted to see public water fountains. In Peru if I’m out for the day and don’t want to buy a bottle of water (and I detest the plastic waste from bottled water so much so that I’d rather go thirsty), I have to carry around my own bottle of filtered water from home. Not having to do this saved me lots of room in my purse…for buying stuff.

Treatment (and Generation) of Garbage

Speaking of stuff, there’s so much more of it in Canada. And all the stuff you get is packaged ten ways to Sunday, which generates garbage. This garbage from packaging is in addition to the waste generated by the stuff you throw away when buying new stuff to replace old stuff – a seemingly endless cycle that doesn’t exist to nearly the same extent in Peru. My mind boggled at the number of curbside waste bins filled to the brim each and every week.

Despite this little rant about the amount of waste generated in Canada, Peru is not squeaky clean (neither literally nor figuratively) in this example. In (many parts of) Canada, recyclables and organic waste is separated out and treated accordingly. In Peru this isn’t the case, and what’s more, litter is a bit of a problem.

Cash is King vs Plastic Payments

It ires me that cash is king in Peru, since it means I generally suffer ATM withdrawal fees and have frequent flyer mile  woes since I can’t charge regular expenses to my credit card and accumulate miles.

Contrast that with my trip to Canada, where I withdrew $100 in cash for good measure….and then redeposited it all back into my account when I left, since I was able to put everything on plastic.

“Do You Have Change?”

I have to ask this question (in Spanish, of course) every time I pull out a crisp 100SOL bill (worth about $30) in Peru – usually the smallest denomination the ATMs will spit out. As with many developing countries, it’s difficult to get change for large bills in Peru (I also experienced this while living in Grenada).

Even if I had used cash in Canada, I wouldn’t have had any trouble getting change.

Smiling at Strangers (or Not)

The picture above was a sad commentary for me on the public state of affairs in Canada (or at least in Toronto). Normally known as a country of friendly outgoing people, I’ve interacted less and less with strangers in Canada as the years have gone by. People are more entranced with looking at their smartphones, e-readers, the ceiling, the floor, these billboards, and everywhere else they can manage, rather than making eye contact and smiling. I know this is a general city-symptom (since I’d like to think that in more rural areas of Canada, small-town friendliness still exists), but it saddens me nonetheless.

In small-town Peru, by contrast, you smile and say hello to just about everybody you pass in the streets.

Do You Deliver?

Living rurally in Peru, there is no such thing as home delivery – of food, mail, or anything else. If I haven’t shopped for groceries, and don’t feel like going out for a meal, I don’t eat.

In Canada, you can order a pizza (or groceries, or sushi, or Ethiopian food) at just about any time. Not only that, but if you’re willing to hit the streets for a meal, in Toronto you can eat just about any world cuisine imaginable. I miss this – and whilst in Toronto, did my best to overdose on favourite ethnic foods.

Disclaimer

Many of the differences of daily life explored in this post aren’t solely applicable to Peru and Canada. In some of the above examples, Peru is a representation for life in many developing countries, as is Canada for life in many Western countries. Also, my life in Peru is largely rural, whereas my time in Canada is urban; another barometer for these differences in daily life.

I was discussing some of these differences with a friend who also lived in Peru and returned to her home town of San Diego. We turned on the camera to have this fun conversation for you!

Click here to view this on YouTube

This post Peru vs Canada: Differences in Daily Life appeared first on The Professional Hobo. Please click through to read it in full!

Part 1: Iquitos

Part 2: What to Bring and Expect

Part 3: Animal Life (For Better and Worse)

Part 4: Doing a Plant Diet and Ayahuasca Retreat

In this final installation of this jungle-series, you’ll read some excerpts from my jungle journal, which will give you an idea of what it was like to live in the jungle for a month, on this multi-faceted adventure. Enjoy!

This post was originally published in 2015. It has since been updated for accuracy of links and content.

Day 1

I’m so happy to have arrived in the jungle – a trip I’ve anticipated for many months now! I get a great feeling from don Francisco (the shaman who runs Sachamama retreat centre).

My orientation included a run-down of what to expect, which includes two daily meals, at 9am and 3pm. I’m already a wee bit concerned about hunger (especially with the dietary restrictions that come with doing a plant diet), but I know I’ll survive, and hey – I could stand to lose a couple of pounds.

Meals are brought to my tambo – an open-air hut, which is very basic and very small, but lovely and (dare I say) romantic. So it’s going to be an isolating experience, but I’m pretty happy about that challenge too. No internet connections, no work, and lots of luxurious time to myself. Although I worry a bit about boredom, I also have an open mind; maybe – hopefully – I’ll be surprised and love every minute.

I’ve been here for half a day and the sun is soon setting. In a few minutes I’ll be cozied under my mosquito net in bed, reading, relaxing, resting, and sleeping. I expect this to be a status quo for the next month.

Day 2

I slept over 12 hours last night, and yet the five-minute walk to the main house to get water nearly killed me. I’m not so much hungry, as weak.

My bed isn’t even (as my whole tambo sits on slanted ground), so I also spent the night trying not to roll out of bed. Mental note: I’ll have to fix this with some sort of shim.

The temperature was lovely though; cool enough for pants and long sleeves with a light blanket. The overnight rain was also lovely on the tin roof of my tambo-without-walls. The orchestra of night sounds is even louder than the jungle sounds by day, and it’s a beautiful soundtrack for sleep.

Day 3

I feel so peaceful here…not a care in the world. I’m feeling a personal shift, into flowing and acceptance of life’s circumstances rather than fighting against them. I see the harmony of all jungle life and am inspired by it.

But I’m hungry! Already fantasizing about sweets, granola bars, fruit, ice cream, chocolate – you name it. I keep reminding myself of the gift of detoxification that I’m receiving, not to mention the clarity of this plant diet overall…but it’s hard when even the young saplings of trees around my hut look yummy enough to gnaw on.

Day 4

If it weren’t for tracking the days in this journal, I’d already be struggling to remember which day it is. Both hunger and boredom are setting in in earnest. After spending an inordinate amount of time counting days and dates, it was with some horror that I realized I still have three weeks left here.

Day 6

I have a love/hate relationship with mealtimes. Physical hunger is actually minimal, due in part to the large quantities that are served (even though it’s only twice daily). But my body prefers to eat smaller amounts more frequently. I could pace myself and space out the food that’s served over a few hours, but once it’s in front of me I’m hard-pressed not to finish it (and then feel stuffed).

But I do get excited when food arrives to my tambo – I can hear tupperware containers being cracked open in other tambos, and I know the chef is on her way. For the most part it has been (surprisingly) delicious, and I haven’t missed salt/spices/sugar.

Day 9

I didn’t sleep well. There was a large winged creature flying around my tambo, plus a large legged creature on top of the tin roof. Something (large) shit on the side of my mosquito net too.

My dreams were all about food….with various people driving around and getting food: cheeseburgers, donuts, McDonalds fries, etc.

Day 11

Invasion of the termites! I returned to my tambo after an afternoon walk to find them everywhere – all over my bag, my bed, all the foundation posts, everywhere. They had constructed full-on tunnel highways all around, which is amazing because there was nothing there this morning, and now, there are thousands (millions?) of them. I sprayed DEET (which I’d been advised to bring but hadn’t really used until now) all over everything like a madwoman, then swept the thousands of termites out of my tambo.

My mosquito bites are also pretty epic – I was scratching all night, and even reapplied my (crappy) after-bite cream twice in the night. I’m covered in welts. DEET is now my best friend. I don’t care if it burns when I spray it on.

All in all I’m pretty rattled. My tambo feels claustrophobic now; there’s nowhere to escape to. It’s so small, and there’s nowhere to put my stuff that won’t potentially get wet from rain or infested by termites again. I’m needing some patience to remember that I’m a guest in this jungle environment and that I need to find some harmony with everything around me. I’ve been here 1.5 weeks and I still have two left to go.

Lord. Help. Me.

Day 12

For the first time since arriving, I’m inspired to write. I wrote all morning, producing an article about all the animal life in the jungle, detailing my termite and mosquito adventures in as humourous a way as possible.

I’m nursing my bites very tenderly now, including the application of an antibiotic ointment I was lucky to have brought, since some of them are actually oozing (painfully). Sitting down is painful with the plentiful bites on my ass and upper thighs (I mean really – how did I get so many bites on my ass?!). With any luck this new course of treatment (as well as the daily application of DEET) will have me in better shape soon.

Day 13

I’m hitting a wall. My body is an oozing pussy mess of bites. I’m using every cream and ointment I can get my hands on to treat them, praying there’s no reaction between them. With the isolation of this plant diet and the simple accommodation, I don’t know what to do with myself any more. Stand up? Sit down. Ouch, that hurts. Stand up again. Too tired to walk. Sit down again. Ouch.

All in all, I’m feeling pretty empty – which is to be expected with a plant diet and ayahuasca ceremonies. I guess I’m ready for filling now!

Day 15

Laundry day! I’ve been washing my clothes by hand every couple of days, but today is the first day in a week that has been sunny enough to actually dry anything. My undies are strewn all over the open area near my tambo, resting on any surface I can find that is in the sun. I have no shame.

It has officially been two weeks since arriving. I feel I’m on the home stretch now…not only will the last week likely pass by much faster, but I’m also in a groove enough that the days aren’t agonizingly slow any more. Although I’ll (actually) be a bit sad to leave the tranquility of this “holiday”, I also have my sights set on the cinnamon rolls I’ll be enjoying as soon as I hit Lima airport.

Oscar [one of the employees at Sachamama] is currently filling my water buckets for my shower and toilet. I marvel with gratitude at his energy and joviality while hand-fetching and delivering bucket after bucket of water from the river down the hill. This is no easy task, nor is the gruelling half-hour hike in from the road that he makes regularly, with everything from our drinking water, to luggage, food, supplies, and more. WOW! And here I thought my paltry existence of “roughing it” in the jungle (with little more to do than sleep, eat, and wash my laundry) was tough. As he tirelessly works, he cheerfully whistles a little “cock-a-doodle-doo” in response to the rampant roosters that generally keep up their calls all day.

Speaking of water, it has taken me two weeks, but I’ve finally figured out how to flush the toilet with the bowls of water that I have to pour into the toilet bowl. Up until now I’ve poured bowl after bowl of water in which has diluted the contents of the toilet and sort of drained it down, but I’ve never had the satisfaction of a proper flush. The trick is a perfect balance between volume of water, force (height from which to pour), angle of pouring, and where in the bowl to aim. Who knew these things were so complicated.

Day 16

Getting out of bed in the morning to use the toilet, I lifted the seat to discover a giant tarantula under the cover, which scurried under the seat. I tried to coax it onto my broom so I could relocate it, but it wanted no part of my grand plan and instead scurried inside a crevice somewhere behind the toilet. I couldn’t find it…but it’s there. After that I didn’t have the courage to sit on the toilet long enough to do my business.

Day 17

I only got five hours of sleep last night. Up until a couple of nights ago, I’ve been sleeping a solid 10-12 hours every night. But for the last few nights I’ve awoken at three or four in the morning and tossed and turned thereafter. Maybe I’ve finally caught up on however many years of not enough (or not good enough) sleep.

11:15am: There is a giant tarantula the size of my hand lurking somewhere in/around my toilet. How can something so big be so elusive? There’s been no sign of it since yesterday, but every time I go to the toilet, I gingerly lift the lid and also check under the seat before sitting down for the shortest possible time.

5:15pm: I’m full. Really full. In a push-myself-away-from-the-table, belch-loudly-and-pass-out kind of way. Meals are generally quite large, and despite some trepidations about eating only twice per day, I’ve found myself generally satiated and rarely (too) hungry. And of course I’ve also started to slim down which has been delightful, the knowledge of which has been a good antidote to hunger.

But we had an ayahuasca ceremony last night, and usually the day after ceremony I’m hungrier than normal. So by the time lunch rolled around today at 3pm (and after an unprecedentedly small breakfast), I was ravenous. I gobbled it down, but I wasn’t full. In fact, I was still hungry.

So I slinked up to the kitchen, tupperware in hand, and shyly asked if there was more food, expecting them to get a few extra scoops of the vegetable stew and rice they served for lunch. Instead, for the next 30 minutes, I sat in the kitchen with the two lovely staff there while they prepared fried plantain, egg, and sliced tomatoes – another whole meal unto itself. I eagerly ran back to my tambo with it and devoured it. Now, I’m properly, pleasantly full. Gracias!

Day 20

I’m fantasizing – hard core – about cinnamon rolls, and a nice thick slice of banana bread. I’ve been writing about food a lot in this journal, which gives me pause for thought. Hunger (for me) often has less to do with metabolic needs, and more to do with having something to do (ie: cooking and eating). Combine that with the psychological “deprivation” factor of this diet (no salt, sugar, spices – which rules out a lot of options), and I’m having to re-examine my relationship with food.

As zen as I can be in reflection, this doesn’t seem to diminish my fantasies about cinnamon rolls.

Day 21

I was surprised when I looked in a mirror today, for the first time in over a week. I look good! My face is fresh, and the circles under my eyes have dissipated significantly. (I thought they were genetic, but I guess it was more about lost sleep than genetics).

Day 22

I’m reflecting on how proud I am to have conversed solely in Spanish with don Francisco and the staff members here. Back in January when planning this trip, my teacher asked how my Spanish was coming along, and I said my goal was to be able to talk to don Francisco without needing translation during this jungle trip. Neither of us really believed it would happen though. But here I am, able to share my experiences and listen to his stories, all in Spanish! All my hard work learning Spanish has really paid off. (See also: Becoming Fluent in Spanish, and Other Languages)

The end of my jungle stay is just around the corner, and with it are mixed feelings. No doubt I’m eagerly awaiting that cinnamon roll, to see my friends in Pisac, and return to the mountains and creature comforts of home. At the same time I haven’t (truly) been wanting for anything in the jungle, and it’s with a touch of sadness that I’m looking at my impending departure. And then a touch of shock that I ever would be thinking these thoughts.

I’m also running to-do lists through my head, with what I suspect will be a thousand things to do on my return, given that I’ve been offline for almost a whole month – a first for me.

Day 23

My teacher came to me today and said “well, you passed the test, with flying colours”.

“There was a test?” I said.

“Well, no not really. But I had been wanting to see how you faired in the jungle before really moving forward with your apprenticeship. And you did it,” he replied.

And I guess it has been a test for me too. To see how I’d manage to unplug for a month, and to embrace this new path of becoming a shaman. And I have done it. And I’ve loved it – despite (or perhaps because of) its ups and downs. I’ve come full circle in yet another journey of the heart and soul. I feel complete, clean, clear, and truly happy. I have a greater sense of self, and of the world around me.

This month in the jungle is the greatest gift I could ever have given myself.

Day 24

I awoke this morning crying. Crying because I’m sad the plant diet is ending! And crying with gratitude for the gifts of the last month through the ayahuasca ceremonies and the plant diet. I’m not even sure how to put it all into words.

As I sit here writing, about to go up to the main house to ceremonially end the plant diet and have my first piece of fruit in a month, I have a smile on my face. In plant medicine circles, they say “the ceremony begins when the ceremony ends”. Thus, I’m excited to return to Pisac and put all the amazing lessons and insights I’ve been given into practice.

Day 25

Cinnamon rolls!

Thank you for reading my 5-part Month in the Jungle Journal series. If you’ve finished reading this and wondered why anybody would put themselves through this, remember that doing a plant diet and ayahuasca retreat is an intensely personal and emotional experience. I haven’t published some of the personal and spiritual revelations I experienced in the jungle, because they’re part of a larger contextual journey, and also very personal. But if you’re interested in working with plant medicine and/or doing a jungle retreat like this yourself, trust me when I say – it’s a life-changing experience, no matter how you slice it. And for me, it was 150% worth every mosquito bite and hunger pang. I’ll be returning next year. 

This post A Month in the Jungle, Part 5: Jungle Journal Excerpts appeared first on The Professional Hobo. Please click through to read it in full!

There are many such retreat centres in the jungle, and each one has a different flavour and system, largely according to the presiding shaman. Here is a general overview of the plant diet process, as I experienced it.

This post was originally published in 2015. It has since been updated for accuracy of links and content.

Isolation

Isolation is a key element to doing a plant diet. Both isolation from communication (such as internet) and society, but also isolation from others. You’re not even supposed to touch anybody during the time that you’re on a plant diet.

I was initially terrified of the idea of having no connection to the outside world and nothing to do and very little interaction with others for a whole month, but after a week or so, I got into a groove and appreciated the experience. I even considered it a holiday. How luxurious not to have to do much of anything, and just to be with myself! This is something we rarely (if ever) afford ourselves in life.

I started off occupying my time as much as possible with books, walks, yoga, and anything else I could find to do, looking often at the clock during the seemingly interminable days; but eventually I took joy in simply swinging on my hammock, listening to jungle sounds, and napping.

The reasoning behind this isolation is not only for introspection, but also because plants are pretty quiet (duh), with subtle energy. When doing a plant diet and connecting with the spirit of a plant, you need to quiet your surroundings – inner and outer – to become sensitive to the plant’s wisdom.

Plant Diet Food

The food during a plant diet is very simple. The specifics vary depending on where you are, but generally there is no salt, sugar, spices, meat, and minimal (if any) use of oil. The only fruit allowed is the occasional slice of lemon squeezed over food or into drinking water. There is also strictly no consumption of alcohol, caffeine, or drugs – a requirement that should be observed for at least a week both before and after the retreat. (Chocolate is also a no-no after the retreat for at least a week, since it’s hard on the liver).

I expected the diet to be dull and soul-destroying, yet again was pleasantly surprised. Although I regularly fantasized about eating a juicy mango or some delectable sweet, I rarely missed salt and enjoyed a surprising amount of variety.

I was served foods like lentils, vegetables (both raw and stewed), eggs, fried plantains, the occasional piece of fish, a healthy amount of rice, and occasionally pasta. Simple yet delicious, one of my favourite meals (that wasn’t fish) consisted of boiled potatoes, beets, and carrots, with a squeeze of lemon on top served with a tomato salad and hard boiled egg.

Meals were served at 9am and 3pm daily, delivered in a tupperware container to my tambo. Eating just twice a day was another source of concern for me, but quantities were generous and I was rarely hungry. I realized a lot of my prior consumption of food had more to do with psychological cravings and having something to do rather than pure nutrition. Without choice in the matter, I got by – quite gracefully. (Though admittedly in the last week I was sustained by the knowledge that I’d be enjoying a syrupy hot cinnamon roll at Lima airport as a reward for my jungle diet penance).

Ayahuasca Ceremonies

Ayahuasca ceremonies were held on Tuesday and Friday nights at 8pm (the ceremony lasts 3-4 hours). On these days we only got one meal at 10am; as with any ayahuasca ceremony, fasting is a requirement, not only to increase the plant medicine’s effect, but also because ayahuasca is a purgative and you don’t want undigested food in your system.

Ceremonies were held in an open-air (but roofed) temple in a jungle clearing, with participants having the freedom to move around outside the temple as they wished (though for the most part it’s expected that you stay in the temple, sometimes out of necessity as ayahuasca can be incapacitating).

As with most ayahuasca ceremonies, the owner and presiding shaman guided the ceremony process by singing Icaros (medicine songs), and because of my training and the plant I was dieting, I was given a chance to sing as well – which, in the throes of an ayahuasca experience, can be quite a feat.

The Plant Diet Process

A major component to doing a retreat at this center (and many other similar jungle retreat centres) is the plant diet. Depending on your state of being, experience, and needs, the shaman will select a plant or tree from the jungle and make a brew with its leaves/flowers/bark/roots (depending on the plant), which you drink about 1/3 cup of twice daily. Though not an entheogen like ayahuasca or san pedro, the subtle effects of this plant medicine can be felt physically and spiritually, especially as the diet progresses. As such, my teacher generally insists on dieting a plant for at least a few weeks.

Ayahuasca is actually a brew of up to nine different “master” plants, including ayahuasca, chacruna, altaruna, tobacco, piri-piri, chiri sanango, canelilla, and others. Thus, it’s common to diet one of these master plants, but there are also a variety of others that can be dieted.

I dieted the Altaruna plant, whose spirit helped me to work on self-expression (understanding and expressing my needs as well as knowing my boundaries), opening my heart, understanding subtle energies, and ultimately to be able to capture and express the spirits of plants when I sing icaros in ceremonies that I assist with (and am being trained to eventually lead). Altaruna also works on opening both the throat and third eye chakras. Although altaruna might be prescribed/dieted for other reasons, the above (and more) is exactly what I got from the experience.

I will likely be doing another plant diet at home in the Sacred Valley (with my teacher) later this year, and I’ll return to the jungle next June for another one. It was a transformative experience that I’m ever so grateful for, and would recommend for anybody who is serious about working with plant medicine to further their spiritual and physical well-being.

Other articles in this “Month in the Jungle” series:

Part 1: Iquitos

Part 2: Jungle Life: What to Bring and What to Expect

Part 3: Jungle Critters (For Better and Worse)

And Part 5: Excerpts from my Jungle Journal!

This post A Month in the Jungle, Part 4: Doing a Plant Diet and Ayahuasca Retreat appeared first on The Professional Hobo. Please click through to read it in full!