red socks

My sister Danielle sent us the following email today. Hope you enjoy her Peruvian drama and photos as much as I did. Only this girl...



Today I climbed the summit of Machu Picchu . . . in socks.

Yes, that's right. FOUR HOURS of grueling VERTICAL climbing in a flimsy pair of red socks, courtesy of Delta.

From the beginning I could tell this little "wkend trip" was going to be a battle ... I missed my first flight. Had to pay for a second one. Arrived totally without luggage. No luggage whatsoever. The FIRST time i EVER check baggage and, of course, it goes missing. We call every baggage claim b/t Peru and Atlanta ... Its status? "Unknown," they tell me, without any explanation.

So all I have on me is:
1) sundress
2) flip flops
3) journal, pen, camera

Fine. That´s all we pretend we ever need anyways, right? A positive attitude and a camera and a journal . . . I thought, it´s okay. I will man it out. One sundress for 3 days of grimy train rides, plane rides, cabs, and llamas. High in the mountains, no less.

We started out at 5:00 am for a whole day hike. Somehow, thru hand-me-downs from the people around me, I inherited a holey pair of knee pants, a sweater rolled up at the wrists, and a kitschy hand-knit headband. Of course no one had a size 5 pair of tennis shoes to lend me. So i had on $5 flip flops, but what can one do? Peru is a once-in-a-lifetime experience; you HAVE to experience Machu Picchu or you might as well stay home. This was my rational when we began our journey.

Halfway up the mountain, one of my flip flops goes soaring off a cliff. I kid you not: wholly unannounced, my shoe just FLINGS itself from my foot and jumps in a graceful arch off the cliff like a kamikaze. I am speechless. I have ONE SHOE and there is nothing but sheer VERTICAL CLIFFS above & below me. Nothing but rocks ... for hours. I want to sit down and cry but I can't. Not with all the Peruvians cheering me on, "muy fuerte!" they kept yelling as they climbed alongside of me.

So what else could I do but finish the rest of the mountain, both up and back down again, every aching step barefoot? For four hours.

Everyone felt so sorry for me. I had people giving me weird looks as they passed by. They kept asking me "No shoes?" in every language from Arabic to German. And I had to keep telling them "No tennis shoes - my plane lost my baggage. And my flip flop just fell off the mountain . . ." Most of them were amazed, "There´s the girl who climbed the whole mountain in her red socks," I overheard them say. It was really pathetic. Of course, I am nothing if not BALZY, right mom? So I CLIMBED that mtn. And I climbed it with zest.

"That's very puritanical of you," one Irish guy smiled and said as he brushed past. As though I had chosen to climb the stupid mountain barefoot.

Well anyway, somehow I survived and I am now typing to you from a little internet cafe in Peru, staring out the window at an enormous jagged mountain looming before me, while rotating my swollen ankles under my desk. I hope you're into the fat ankles, I-may-or-may-not-have-diabetes look.
























Supposedly the Incans believed this rock had some sort of special power but you had to hold your palms 1 cm from it.









Yes. Climbed allllll the way up here! I feel pain spasms all over again just looking at this picture.





Maintained a perfect manicure whilst climbing the mtn. Isn't that amazing? I thought so, too.







Yes, in case you're wondering. I've been wearing these same clothes for four days now.






Darling D, at least it was your shoe and not you that plummeted to the rocks below. And at least the socks were red. Because if you're gonna hike Machu Picchu shoe-less, people should take note and recognize. Word.

Glad you're safe, little sis. Need a pumice stone?