A Tale of Volunteering at Two Events

I was recently given comp tickets to two events in exchange for helping out. I gratefully accepted since I enjoy attending events more as a worker bee than as an attendee. As I explained to someone recently, I like to be helpful. Even without the comp ticket, I'll be figuring out ways to help.

The first event was a meet and greet with author Susan Choi. The poised author graciously read excepts from her newest novel, Flashlight, which has been shortlisted for the Booker Award. The event was held in the elegant Erdman Center at the Princeton Theological Seminary. With its high ceiling, arch between rooms, parquet floors, and enormous 18-panel windows painted in what might be Benjamin Moore historic paint colors, I felt transformed just stepping into the room. It is a sharp contrast to its modern brick exterior. 

Photo credit: Tim Sexton

The event was lovely. I wish I had asked for a guest list ahead of time so I would
have been more prepared at check in. I would have noted the names of the board members, for instance. Guests were kind and patient and it went very smoothly.

Afterwards I was sent a lovely thank you note from Debbie, the organizer, praising me for my help. She said every time she looked over at me she saw me smiling and knew I had everything under control. This allowed her to relax, not worry, and focus on the event. I am paraphrasing, but that is perhaps the best compliment I have ever received. She also gave me a copy of the book and made sure I had it autographed, and also encouraged me to have a good time. I was to also feel like a guest. 

This weekend I was asked at the last minute to step in as the second in command at the gala I used to organize. I had already been asked to sell raffle tickets at the event, but now I was being asked to run check in, check out, be the banker, and help in all ways possible. 

Of course I said yes and smiled my way through the event, even as I learned new software and procedures on the fly. Wearing high heels, stockings, and a brown dress I wore to my first board meeting with this organization I slipped into the role as comfortably as if I was wearing my usual leggings, wool& dress, and ballet slippers. Though in a new venue, I felt at home as I greeted guests I have not seen since I left the organization. I made small talk as I looked them up and navigated the many screens necessary to assign bidding paddles. As someone else said, I was the only person who could have slipped into that role at the last minute.

An hour into the event, I tidied up and slipped away from the registration table to eat dinner and listen to speeches. I recharged in the "bridal suite" while bidding took place. Then I jumped back into action as people gathered their winnings, all while smiling and making small talk. I was handed a lot of cash throughout the evening and no paperwork to balance the amounts. I put the bills in the proper banking order and zipped them into the official envelope. 

Before leaving I did a sweep of the ball room scooping up bid paddles to use next year, and the flash drive in the laptop that belongs to the venue. After I left the room, someone else did the same as a sanity check.

I limped out of there (why, oh why did I wear new shoes to this event -- oh, because they matched the dress) shaking my head all the way to my car. The next day I made notes, then followed up with someone at the non-profit. 

A few days later and there is no thank you text or email from the person in charge of the event. Considering she did not ask me to fill in, I shouldn't be surprised she has not found time to reach out to me for saving the event. She might not even realize how much I did. Others have, including people who never told me I did a great job when it was me in charge. Still good to hear years later.

I am purposely leaving the names of the organizations off so a Google search does not flag these when people are searching for information about them. While the one is glowing, the other is less than. 

I thoroughly enjoyed both experiences for different reasons. I like being the person who is solving problems behind the scenes so attendees and organizers feel the event runs smoothly. 

There is a part of me who would love to be paid to be the onsite event trouble shooter. On the other hand, I wouldn't want to do that so often it becomes stale or I become blasé. I want to continue to only wish success for the organization no matter how big a train wreck is happening. 

If you know anyone who needs this type of skill at an event, and is willing to pay me more than a comp ticket, reach out.

March Madness 2026

Back when Ashley was growing up and involved with school theater, we began referring to March as March Madness. Instead of following college basketball, we were trying to fit in as many plays, supporting as many friends and family, as possible in only four weekends. There were times it felt as if we were playing Jenga.

We see plays and musicals throughout the year. I've taken to ushering and writing theater reviews to support my desire to see more shows. I estimate that I see about 50 shows a year -- at least one each weekend. 

This year March Madness started a few days earlier with South Hunterdon High School's production of "Into the Woods." We've grown from supporting the students, to supporting the staff. Both Ashley and Anna were involved with the show as set and lighting designer (Ashley) and costumes (Anna). They team up again in April for the middle school production of 13. 

The next day I saw Rider's production of "From Up Here" even though I knew no one involved with the show. They put on great shows that are priced reasonably, and are only a five-minute drive from home. All wins.

That Saturday I saw my brother-in-law, Chris, perform in the pit orchestra of Princeton Day School's production of "Mean Girls." I went with my parents.

I slowed down after that first weekend.

On March 6th Don and I saw Elizabeth in "Bright Star" with the North Brunswick Players at North Brunswick Middle School. About a week before the show they had to shift from performing at the high school. This meant a major change in every technical aspect from staging to lights to sound even to where to do costume changes. They handled it with much grace.

The next day I heard Susan Choi speak about her book "Flashlight." While not theater per se, it was still a live performance. 

March 11th Don and I traveled to the Delaware Theater Company in Newark, DE to see the US-debut of "Glory Ride," a show about the Italian Tour de France winner Gino Bartali who worked for the Resistance during WWII hiding documents in his bicycle tubes and hiding people in his home. 

On March 13th I saw my niece, Aimee, perform as a Conquistador at Lawrence High School's production of "Addams Family." It is hard to believe we only have one more year of knowing someone on that stage.

The next day I ushered at Somerset Valley's Production of the Neil Simon play "Come Blow Your Horn." My friend, Roberta, was in the production, but unfortunately her very memorable role did not appear until the last few minutes of the show.

I did not go to any shows the last two weekends in March. I had some opportunities, including seeing Chris in the "Wizard of Oz" pit orchestra in Rancocas, but other activities filled the calendar. I do have tickets to see shows the next couple of weekends. 

With only seeing seven shows this March, I feel as if I was slacking.

Let me know if you are performing locally and I'll support you, too.

No Kings 3 Protest

A number of us are so ready to return to being able to disengage with the news because we know there are people in charge who have our best interest at heart. We might now always agree with how they go about accomplishing goals, nor should we, but we know they think about more than themselves.

Until that happens, I will continue to protest. I will continue to follow Heather Cox Richardson, Joanne Freeman, and Timothy Snyder. I will listen to NPR. I will keep up on the news and try to speak intelligently and passionately, while also staying calm and not yelling and screaming. Not always easy.

On Saturday I walked from my house to the closest protest site. It was nice to not have to struggle to find a parking spot. I also enjoyed walking down the line of protesters and recognizing people. As Joanne often says on her live streams, we are forming a community.

Stacy joined me for the walk. We could have parked closer, but walking feels good. Though it was 70 degrees on Thursday, by Saturday the weather in New Jersey reverted to winter with a high around 40, but wind chill making it feel below freezing. I wore flannel-lined jeans, a heavy coat, and scarf. To get in the spirit I wore my "Mad as a Box of Frogs" socks, and wrapped my hair in a bandana channeling the classic image of Rosie the Riveter. At the No Kings 2 protest in October I wore my Colonial Ball gown.

Meanwhile cousins in Colorado had sunny weather in the 70s and wore t-shirts and shorts. Go figure! Don reminded me of the Minneapolis protestors who stood in sub-zero temperatures for days and weeks on end this winter and encouraged me as he drove to work. At least it was sunny. At least I have the necessary clothes to wear in this weather. At least I am healthy enough to be out there.

I struggled with what to put on a sign. The signs that say "there is not enough cardboard to list everything" pretty much sums it up. I thought about "Pretti Good Reasons to Protest" in honor of Alex Pretti and Renee Good's murders. Then I was listening to Joanne's sign off. Be Strong and of Good Courage. It what Moses said to Joshua as he handed the reigns to him. Joanne, a Jew, says she uses it to honor her friend Richard who died a couple of years ago. Richard used to sign off their phone calls with "Be strong and of good courage." 

The message felt right. Favorite sign slogans I have seen since: "Send Barron First," and "Give the Finger if you Support MAGA" (since that's what they do anyway). 

Photo credit: Lawrence Community Activists

About 500 of us gathered on Route 206 as it crosses over I-95. We stretched on the northbound side of the road to the municipal building, where were urged to park. As Stacy and I left I noticed a smaller group of about a dozen at the intersection of Route 206 and Pennington-Lawrenceville Road.

Stacy and I arrived about 10 minutes before the official 2 pm start time. A good sized crowd had already gathered. 

Photo credit: Lawrence Community Activists

I saw Lauri and her friends, Tom and Diane from church, Sylvia and her bestie (Desiree), Leslie, Sue, and others. Some people came up to me and started talking as I tried to remember their names. Later that night I bumped into a different Sue who said she saw me there, but I walked by too quickly to catch my attention. We are all out there on a Saturday afternoon when there is much else we could be doing with our friend time. We do it to show others they are not alone. Us white women of a certain "rage," as someone on Joanne's latest post referred to us, stand on the front line because for the most part, it is safer for us than for anyone who looks like they might be an immigrant. As upset as I am, I am not in fear for my life, or for the lives of my family members.

Some pictures from the day:

Gotta love the 250th historic reference

Veto the Cheeto in faded orange

Photo Credit: Stacy
Her sign was a huge hit!

I talked to someone afterwards who said they are repurposing their Biden lawn signs by taping messages to the front and back. They are much stronger than card stock, and prettier than cardboard. I'll try that next time, since we know there will be a next time.

Five hundred is a drop in the bucket of 8 million protestors. Add in there were another thousand in Hopewell, 700 in Trenton, 3,500-5,000 in Princeton where our new governor spoke, and 3,500 in Lambertville and New Hope. There were 54 protests in New Jersey, over 3,000 throughout the country, and others held on six out of seven continents (assuming none were held in Antarctica, though they did have a lone scientist protesting last time). It is being stated as the largest protest ever in United States history. Final numbers will take several more months before they are available.

End of the Beard

A year ago I traveled to Belgium, leaving behind a clean-shaven husband itching to try his hand at growing a beard. I knew when I kissed him goodbye there was a good chance I would not see his jawline when I returned home. I didn't know how well it would grow in. We posed for this picture, which I used as my phone cover. When I came home, he had the makings of a full beard and mustache.

This was his first beard. There were times over the decades he tried growing a mustache. He used to work for a company that had nothing against mustaches, but they must be past the scruffy starter stage and look nice. Something he could not accomplish in a one week vacation. This was the same company that insisted they dress like IBM employees -- white dress shirts, dark suits, a tie, wingtip shoes, and dark dress socks. Women had a similar dress code. When I need a reminder of how he dressed for work, I look at old Friends episodes and see Ross and Chandler wearing ties when they go to the office. EDS was even more strict than that.

The beard lasted nearly a year. It never grew on me, and Don knew it. He also
knows I will never tell him what to do with his hair because I don't ever want to be told what to do with mine. (Currently I'm growing out the coloring because I grew tired of the expense, and because I don't know what I want to do. This picture was taken not long after I lost colored it.)

Friday night I came home from digging at Fort Mifflin. We were meeting a friend for dinner. I complimented him on his haircut. I noticed he wasn't wearing glasses. We went out. I talked to him. I looked at him. It wasn't until I went to bed that I realized he shaved his beard off. The Don I fell in love with is back!

The next day a coworker noticed immediately. Someone else said he looks better (thank you!). No one at church commented. 

Don said he wanted to shave it before he gets a summer tan. I'll take it.

A Tale of Two Paddingtons

Often when I read a book there seems to be a thread from the book I just read to the book I am reading now. It might be a character name, or a location, or some obscure fact that appears in two different books. Currently it is the name Wes. I read "The Other Wes Moore," then Wes was a background character in "The Lost Baker of Vienna," and now he is a small character in "Humor Me." 

While this happens a lot with books, I hadn't noticed the connection on vacation. Sure, most cafes around the world seem to play 80s pop music, which is the music I grew up with so I roll with it and smile feeling instantly at home, and also a little annoyed they are not playing local tunes. This really stood out when we dined at Basilica in Cusco, Peru where they played Bossa Nova versions of 80s pop.

I was surprised, though, when a certain bear became a vacation theme. I first noticed Paddington Bear in London, where he stars in a show on the West End. When I saw him a month later in Lima, Peru I was convinced he followed me. I was also very travel lagged (same time zone, so technically not jet lagged).

London

Lima

Paddington fans reading this are screaming "of course he'd be in both places!" After all, he is put on a boat from "darkest Peru" and arrives at London's Paddington Station where he begins to have the adventures that are recorded in Michael Bond's books. 

I did a double take wondering what other connections I would make on our journey.

High Points of Our Trip to Peru

Reflecting upon what I wrote about our trip to Peru I realize I focused more on the downsides (altitude sickness, the abysmal flight) than I did on what I enjoyed. That's not fair to me, or to the few of you who read my posts. That's just jet lag (even if we were traveling in the same time zone) speaking.

We are blessed to be able to travel, and that we both enjoy it -- though Don will be the first to admit I enjoy it more than he does.

What did I enjoy the most?

Of course Manchu Picchu is stunning, and we had an excellent guide with a dry sense of humor that caught me off guard until I leaned into it. However, I enjoyed myself more when we left the tour group and explored on our own. 

I love a good tour. I take copious notes, snap pictures with my phone, chat with those in our group, and live fully in the moment. That is true no matter where I am on the planet. It is especially invigorating learning about new places in English, with a guide I can have a conversation with.

However, my two favorite experiences in Peru were when Don and I left the tourist district and saw local people enjoying life without performing or trying to please us. They were unapologetically living their best lives.

The first was our first night when we went to the Magic Water Circuit of Reserve Park. The Magic Water Circuit is a series of light shows using fountains as the backdrop. Until we bumped into a tour guide with a red umbrella loudly speaking English to his charges, I felt we were the only non-Spanish speakers at the festival. I saw children racing through the arches of water giggling the entire time as their parents tried to keep up. I saw multi-generational families spending a lovely summer evening in each other's company.

The second was when we stumbled upon Carnavale being celebrated in Urubamba. We didn't expect it. We saw people, mostly women, wearing matching traditional-inspired outfits that clearly looked like costumes heading to a mysterious (at least to us) location. Two days earlier we saw people rehearsing in front of the cathedral, so we suspected a festival was in the making. We just didn't know the details, or if we had time to see any of it before our guide was collecting us to take us to Cusco. I was glad we caught them parading to reviewing stand, as they tossed foam at us and unapologetically included us in their festivities. I wish we could have stayed a few more hours. We did catch some of the partying in Cusco, but as that is a bigger city (not a big city, just larger than Urubamba), and it was later, the reveling was turning violent with water balloons hard as rocks (one hit me in the head and bounced off without breaking, so not sure which was harder). It was not as enjoyable as watching multigenerational groups celebrating together.

If we had had one extra day in Lima, I would have booked a tour of Pachacamac, located about 31 miles outside of Lima it is one of the most important pre-Spanish invasion religious sites, and a huge archaeological destination. As I really enjoy archaeology, this had the potential of being another highlight.

You can't do it all.

Punch Buggy!

We knew when we went to Cuba that we would see 1950's American cars. They are in every tourist photo of Havana there are classic American cars, often waxed and polished so it could double as a mirror.

In Peru we were surprised to see the cars of our youth, namely VW Bugs. We spent much of our trip whispering PUNCH BUGGY to each other. It brought back memories of playing with my sisters on car rides long and short. To a time before I met Don. By the time we met in 1989 there were not that many slug bugs or punch buggies on the road. 

It has been so long since we played I don't remember the details of the scoring system. I think each car was a point. Orange ones were worth five points? Vans worth more. Orange vans worth the most?

I should have taken more pictures. Some were polished like the Chevys in Havana. Others were beaten up, clearly used as everyday cars.

Trenton Architecture Tour

This was an example of a good tour guide making me feel as if something I have seen many times I am seeing for the first time. 

I was late to one of Becky's Trenton Walks Tours. I know better. I knew it was going to be a great tour. I was cozy at home writing blog posts about our trip and didn't want to leave. I also have a tendency to think it takes less time to get to downtown Trenton than it really does, especially factoring in parking. By the time I joined the group and acknowledged Becky's wide, forgiving smile, architect John had led the group had moved from the Masonic Temple, past the Old Barracks (still slated to reopen by this summer), Thomas Edison State College (John's favorite downtown Trenton building) and they were in front of the State House.

Our State House is one of the oldest in the nations, up there with those in Annapolis, MD and Dover, DE. It make sense, we are one of the oldest states in the United States.

John guided our eyes across the street to a series of former row homes that are now offices. Some better restored than others, as only someone with an eye to architectural details see. To my untrained eye, they all sparkle.

As I knew from past tours, Trenton began in 1679, a few blocks away in what we now call Mill Hill. Followed in 1719 by the William Trent House. This house in an 1870s Romanesque Revival Style, as evidenced by the heavy stone on the bottom contrasting the other materials. Next to it is an older building, then an early 20th century one in the early Classical Revival style. I wish I actually knew what all that means so I can identify them myself.

Back to our side of the street. The center part of the State House is the executive branch. It is flanked by senate and congress. The new part, a separate looking hut, is the security entrance. It is modern, but tries to keep the colors and flavor of the original building. Or not.

Next to it is the State House Annex, a
building that could fit as a backdrop for a Fascist movie with his overabundance of columns and forced symmetry meant to scare us into submission. 

Contrast that with the asymmetrical building across the street unfortunately made with brownstones which are easy to build with, but erode easily. 

The easiest way to rile up a librarian is to talk about how the great Library of Alexandria was destroyed in the 7th century taking with it much knowledge we have yet to recapture. The feeling was similar as John told us about the great mansions (including at least two owned by the Roebling family or Roebling wire fame) were purchased by the state in the 1960's and destroyed to have space for the new state cultural center, including the State Library and State Museum. Those homes, with their gardens and yards, backed up to the canal, which has since been paved over to make Route 29. Talk about another topic sure to rile up historians. The incorporated some classical elements, but also included open spaces that are not controlled, and have modern art. 

At the end of the street is a tall building with no windows on our side that feels out of place. Someone asked me what it is for, and I said I don't know, but I could make up a story if he'd like. He did. So I did. I said it is used by Netflix as a filming studio and that the city receives a lot of revenue from it. The real answer? It was a failed Holiday Inn that has great views from its top floor. It was turned into office space. A developer is interested in turning it into an apartment building. I like my version better.

We walked across the street to admire the rowhomes up close.

The Contemporary Club is housed in a 19th century Renaissance Revival building with Italianate details. I have no idea what he means, but it sound good.

The Farm Bureau next door is even older. 

Ferdinand Roebling's townhome is still standing.

The Hunter Research office building is an example of a good restoration. There is granite at the base, which is better able to withstand the elements. Upper floors are 20th century brick.

John kept our walk to an hour. Often the "lunchtime" walks stretch beyond an hour as we are all engaged with the speaker, and enough of the tour goers are not bound to a clock. John probably had to get back to work.

As we passed Thomas Edison State College again he pointed out the clock jutting out from the second story of the [Henry Cooper] Kelsey building. The two tick marks represent the hour when his beloved wife Prudence Kelsey passed away. In the room where the clock extends is a room dedicated to her with her porcelain. It was a condition of the donation of the building.

Next time I'll try to get there earlier as they are always informative, as well as entertaining.

(Not take during the tour, but I still like the picture of the
State House dome all lit up at night)

Fabric, Stories, and Memories at The William Trent House

"The fabric of our lives," began historical re-enactor Leslie Bramett's brief talk about how we went from owning two outfits comprising of five items of clothing, to having closets and dressers overflowing with more items of clothing than we can count. Bramett's talk, "The Stories Fabrics Tell: an Illustrated History" was the keynote presentation in the greater "Fabric, Stories, and Memories" exhibition that opens next weekend at the 1719 William Trent House.

Bramett wore a Colonial-era dress she hand stitched, and brought three other dresses she made--all pink, all using different types of fabrics and styles to illustrate the points she made in her power presentation.

"The fabric of our lives" evokes the 1980s television commercial encouraging people to turn away from polyester and return to cotton. She said since she started wearing cotton for work, that when she wears synthetic materials they just don't feel right. 

Her presentation was neatly organized into four categories:

1) Functional

2) Status

3) Political

4) Artifact

Functional: in the 1600s clothes served a function. Everyone, even the most wealthy, had two outfits that they wore every day. One for work, and the other (if lucky) to wear to church on Sundays.

Status: Around the 18th century, fabric became tied to the economy. Cotton and linen were exported from the New World and sent to Britain to be turned into cloth, which was then sold to people in the New World. At the same time, people were traveling to other parts of the world and seeing what others were wearing.

Fabric became a status symbol. Rather than having plain fabric, printed material began to exist. The lower classes still wore solid colors (often in linen), the middle class citizens wore patterned cotton cloth, but the wealthy wanted something different. They wore silk fabric with patterns. After all in those days of slavery, labor was cheap so to show your wealth, you had to wear better fabric. This extended to your bedding, drapes, table cloths, and all fabric you needed.

Political: Laws were made to dictate what Black people could wear. Louisiana's Tignon Law of 1786 said women of color must cover their hair to suppress their beauty. South Carolina's 1735 Slave Code law specified that Blacks could only wear "Negro cloth," which was not as fine as what their owners wore. This law was ignored by the slaveholders who chose what their property would wear. She compared it to posted speed limit signs versus how we drive in New Jersey, some might obey but most don't.

Another interesting rabbit hole was that during the Revolutionary War era there were boycotts on buying fabric from Britain. Instead people spun their own fabric and made their own clothes as part of the Homespun Movement. Think of it as the original Buy in America movement started by women.

Artifacts: this was the most fascinating part of Bramett's discussion. She pointed out that very little fabric actually exists from the Colonial era, so how do historians like herself know so much about them? There are three ways: runaway ads, wills, and foundling homes. Each a little more distressing than the previous.

Runaway ads described not just the physical characteristics of the runaway slaves, but their attire, often in great detail. Remember, people did not have a lot of clothing in that time period.

Wills. Fabric was so valuable that everyone who had a will listed it in their wills. For the William Trent House they listed linens at a modern day value of $312. Linens were passed down to the the next generation. One man in the audience said he remembers helping his grandmother create quilts for each of the people in her family so they would have something from her when she passed.

Foundling homes. This was the most distressing way to learn about fabric patterns, but crucial to seeing actual pieces of fabric from bygone times. When a woman left her baby at a foundling home, she left the child with a piece of fabric from her dress and kept a piece. This was used to identify which child was hers. Though only 166 children were claimed out of the thousands left, in the age before fingerprint identification, this was crucial for identification. The Foundling Museum in the United Kingdom (formerly the Foundling Home) had an exhibit on children claimed. Somehow Bramett got through this portion of her talk without choking up, something she said she has been working on. This exhibit provided a "wealth of knowledge of fabrics of ordinary women." 

She noted that while the ordinary people were boycotting British (including Irish and Indian) goods, George Washington and the wealthy class were not. They still wanted to keep up appearances among their friends. Way not to show leadership, George.

It was a fun talk. They introduction included extending an invitation to others who want to give presentations. They are always looking for guest speakers, often academics have to give talks as part of their requirements. 

Next up is a talk by Robert Selig called: German Soldier in America: Georg Daniel Flohr, Regiment Royal Deux Points on March 15 at 2 pm. Same place. 

Countries Visited

Because this comes up in conversation every so often, thought I would create an official list of countries I have been to so far. Since crossing the International Date Line I've wanted to cross the equator (open for suggestions). I'd also like to go to Africa.

(Written in 2017, updated 2023 and 2026)

1. Canada
2. Iceland
3. England
4. France
5. Belgium
6. Luxembourg
7. Switzerland
8. East Germany (visited while separated)
9. West Germany (visited while separated)
10. Germany (visited post reunification)
11. Holland/Netherlands
12. Portugal
13. Italy
14. Vatican City
15. Japan
16. Cuba
17. Mexico
18. Denmark
19. Estonia
20. Russia
21. Sweden
22. Finland
23. Israel
24. Palestine (from Jerusalem into Bethlehem)
25. Spain 
26. New Zealand
27. Australia
28. Norway
29. Peru

Peru Adventures

Three days ago we came home from visiting Peru. Over the next couple of weeks, I'll be adding stories, adventures, and pictures. They will appear on the dates when the stories took place. 

I came home a bit beat from the trip and am processing why. After all, Peru is the same time zone. It was a relatively quick trip (we were only away eight days). The travel company took care of the nitty gritty details, leaving me to only worry about filling free time and finding lunch and dinner each day. An added bonus, the weather is turning warmer in New Jersey making the snow melt faster than it did with the January snow -- we actually saw our lawn for the first time in a couple of months. 

As I write about what we saw, and what I learned, I hope to uncover the answer to why I am beat, and figure out how not to repeat that feeling on a future trip. Thank goodness I have the time to digest the trip and not just move forward with the next experience.

Bear with me as I dive into the adventures.

Pun intended ;)

 

Peru: Altitude Sickness and other questions

Since coming home, the top question I've been asked was how did we fare with altitude sickness, followed by did we try guinea pig?

I'll answer the second question first: no. I would have been willing to try it, but after hearing from Greg (@Go.With.Greg) that his was served with the face prominent, I lost all interest. I was only interested in trying a taste, anyway, but his description kept me from ordering it.

The first question is longer to answer. As soon as we landed in Cusco I had a terrible headache. I get headaches more frequently than Don and can usually identify them. Not enough sleep. Dehydrated. Hungry. Snow or rain storm about to hit. This was none of the above. After confirming symptoms with Google, I took two Tylenols (which I packed), had some bottled water, and slept for 12 hours. I woke up with a headache in the middle of the night. Took more Tylenol. Woke up feeling much better. For me, that was the worst of it. We were sleeping in Urubamba that night, which at 9,700 feet above sea level was about 1,500 feet closer to sea level than the Cusco airport. The next day we were going to Machu Picchu, "only" 8,000 feet. I repeated Tylenol and water over the next couple of days as both seemed to help.

Don was fine in Cusco and at Machu Picchu, but a few hours after arriving in Cusco (11,200 feet) he was feeling gastrointestinally ill. He tried to press on, but the only thing that helped was sleeping in the hotel room. Someone from a group about to leave Cusco gave him the rest of her supply of Soroche pills. Yes, I know, don't take drugs from strangers. Back at Dulles Airport a Peruvian woman swore by Diamox, which you can get from any pharmacy in Lima, and we did not.

Shoulda. Coulda. Woulda.

We drank coca and muna teas every time they were offered. I chewed a coca leaf I found on a counter at the Cusco airport when Greg was changing money. Honestly I don't know if any of that helped.

Don may have consumed something he should not have.

People kept offering suggestions that were working for them (patches, masking tape on pressure points, coca candy, etc.). For me another day to rest would have helped. For Don, returning to sea level was the only cure. 

I was wiped out on our Cusco hikes as we climbed another 600 feet above sea
level not once, not twice, but three times on three different days, because some people just don't learn. Don was even slower than me on our last hike.

We both felt much better as soon as we landed in Lima. My head stopped feeling clogged. I could remember to say buenos dias, buenos tardes, and buenos noches, instead of bonjour, bon apres midi, and bon soir, or even buena sera as the Italians say. I finally hit my traveling groove!

Peru: Photos of Carts

I've finished writing about our adventures, but I still have some picture left that did not fit into any of the narratives, but still tell the story.

Within a few minutes of walking in Lima we started seeing entrepreneurs. People selling something. Most were waved off with a "no, gracias." Very few pushed beyond that. No one was ever aggressive, just persistent. 

In Lima everything was too new to even think about giving someone money. There were shoe shiners offering to shine my Chacos. For a better pair of shoes, we should have said yes. The roads are very dusty, so our shoes would look better. Plus, everyone feels better being paid for a service rather than being given a hand out.

In Cusco the opportunity to buy something was in carts between the hotel and the cultural center of town, and beyond. As we waited in Cusco for our flight to Lima I brought up the topic of carts to Don, Ruth, and Bill. Ruth and Bill have traveled to Central American countries before and are familiar with tuk tuks (pedicabs) and the cart culture. Besides, it was a topic of conversation.

We listed the following types of carts:

• Prepared foods: cut up fruit, empanadas, churros, corn on the cob, cakes, prepared snacks, ice cream, ham sandwiches, geletin
• Produce: watermelons, avocados, broccoli, coca leaves (helpful with the altitude), small eggs (pigeon? quail?), strawberries
• Toys: metal cast VW bugs, cards
• Shawls, hats, alpaca stuff
• Household goods: cleaners, toilet paper
• Souvenirs
• Cans of soap (for Carnavale)

Here are some pictures: