Left Cusco this morning and stopped to drop off the bikers. We paused in a picturesque town on the way to Paucartambo. The bikers caught up to us and we continued on. Once we arrived to Paucartambo I was flooded with memories; the ones that are blurry with a childhood lens, mixed with those of an adventurous twenty-something. Paucartambo is a town where my grandmother’s family has its roots going back many generations, like 12. One time I wrote all of the names of my ancestors in a journal outlining each generation. I’m sure I have that journal somewhere; I’d love to dig it up when we get back to Portland. Here are a few photos from the day we begin our descent to the jungle.

We will be back in this small town in a few weeks for the Fiesta de la Mamacha Carmen, a centuries old festival complete with wild costumes, devils dancing on the roof tops, and carts on fire. It will be packed with people from the region, the rest of the country and all over the world.