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Meche and I arrived Friday in Lima as part of a trip the
family has been planning for the past year, timed to Molly’s 13th
birthday. Since her older sister got to travel to Peru the summer she turned
13, it was only fair that Molly get the same opportunity. The thing is, Fionna
is much more adventurous than her younger sister and went for six weeks without
us, something Molly wasn’t going to dare. Since we haven’t been back to Peru
together as a family since 2003, it became a full-blown affair—one that Maya
and her accident almost derailed.
Had Maya been hit by a car before we had purchased tickets
to Peru and began this spiral of out-of-pocket hospital, surgery, medical and
therapy costs (ha! I should say "out of plastic" costs), this trip would never have
gotten off the ground. Maybe a much more modest trip of a month for the kids
themselves (staying with family and friends here, of course), but I doubt Meche and I would be here. But, as the saying goes, things happen for a reason
and this morning I’m happy to be back in Lima, the city where I met Meche and
where Fionna was born.
Maya, meanwhile, is boarding at the hospital. The veterinary
surgeon who is treating her offered to board her for free when it became
obvious six weeks ago that Maya needed surgery to fuse her ankle. It was a very
generous offer and had he not done so, I wouldn’t be here because she needs too
much attention right now to expect any of our friends or family to do as a
favor. Her stay the next three weeks at the hospital is far from cheap,
nonetheless, with physical therapy, bandage changes, medicines and a special
vacuum-technique they plan to do use to promote skin growth over the metal
implant they’re using to stabilize her ankle until it fuses. At one point I
considered cancelling my part of the trip to care for Maya, especially as her
recovery from the last surgery has lagged. The wound has been stubborn to close
because of tightness and scarcity of skin there. But she’s in the best hand now and we’re
here, though I’m embarrassed to meet old friends and Meche’s family because I’m
so paunchy, having blown off not only running by my frequent jaunts in the
woods that had been Maya’s and my routine for the year prior to her injury.
I’ve a secret mission here actually: look for signs of
Maya’s race in Peru. My brother-in-law swears he once had a dog that looked
just like Maya. I’ve seen a blurry photo of his dog, Stroll, and there's definitely a resemblance, though I’m dubious
about the breed since he was living in Cuzco when he had this mascot and I just don’t
think Irish red and white setters would be found here. Impossible? No, as the
British ran mines, textile mills and the railroads in Peru for years so it’s
not impossible someone brought over red and whites of one line or another. I plan
to keep a look out when we’re in Cuzco next week. I’ll be shocked if I see any.
Wouldn’t it be cool if Maya were here in Peru with us,
though that’s a rhetorical question on multiple levels. For one thing, Maya’s
slow recovery and the other is I just wouldn’t risk that even if she were
better. Lima traffic is horrid. It’s a lovely idea though to be up hiking in
the mountains around Cuzco, but that’s not the trip, not with my lovelies. It
will be enough to get them explore a few ruins, notably the fortress of
Sacksayhuman at Cuzco itself, Machu Picchu and Ollantaytambo, which is my
favorite as the one place the Incas managed to defeat the Spanish, at least in
the first battle. The following year the Spaniards came back with a much larger
force. Plus the town of Ollantaytambo is old and precious and a great place to
drink chinca, the local homemade brew.
We’re off tomorrow to Cuzco, the Sacred Valley and Machu
Picchu. I fell in love with Meche while exploring those magical places over New Years of 1992. I remember the night after our tour of the Sacred Valley we had dinner at an Italian restaurant on Avenida del Sol in Cuzco. When we finished the bottle of wine, Meche told me blow into it, covered the top with her hand and told me to make a wish but not to tell it to her. My wish was one day I'd marry her. It was more than a wish; it was a premonition.
