While I detoured to see the Nazca Lines, Julie went straight from Cuzco to Huaraz. More than thirty hours on a bus later, I made it to Huaraz as well. I had planned on spreading the rides out with a night in Lima, but I was so disgusted by the capital city that I continued north.

Huaraz is considered the mountaineering capital of South America, boasting the world’s highest tropical mountains. The snowcapped peaks of the Cordillera Blanca are visible from just about anywhere. Huaraz had a colonial town as impressive as its mountains until an earthquake leveled it all in 1970, killing thousands of people in the area. The town was hastily put back together and therefore looks a bit shabby, but it managed to retain its charm.

Julie arrived the day that her friends Ted and Jen were preparing to return to the states. She had planned on just popping in to say “hello,” but they made time to copy their house keys and teach her all the tricks. It was a very pleasant surprise. When I arrived, Julie opened the gate and welcomed me in as if she’d been there for weeks. We have a kitchen to cook mac ’n’ cheese in, a living room to watch DVDs in, and our own rooms to settle in. Since the rainy season hasn’t yet surrendered, we don’t feel bad chilling in the house or playing Scrabble in a nearby café. Our only responsibility is to feed the chickens each morning.

It would’ve been ridiculous, however, to not take advantage of our picturesque backyard. Yesterday we hiked to a lake perfectly placed in a bowl between alpine mountains. It was the nicest day all month, locals told us. We didn’t intend to have a guide, but a dog ended up leading us the entire way. We never saw another tourist, never heard an unnatural sound. Julie bet me twenty bucks to jump in the glacier lake, but I couldn’t be bothered to get up from my rock.

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