Greetings from Peru

Greetings and salutations from Cusco! The boys and I found an internet room, and this is our wacky treat at the end of our long, adventure-filled days. For about 30 cents American, we can play on the internet for about an hour. HOW COOL IS THAT???

I'll tell you: VERY.

And so here I am. We just finished one of the most incredible meals ever, complete with capuccino and creme brulee, and now I sit typing this missive. What a day. What a trip! So far we've:

- Gone white water rafting in the Andes
- Gone horseback riding in the Sacred Valley
- Walked all over, around, on and through pre-Incan ruins
- Seen traditional dancers in full, colorful garb
- Enjoyed Pollo a la Brasas like no other
AND
- Seen a llama be sacrificed. As in dead, entrails lifted overhead as the sky opened up and began to hail.

Seriously. I'd like to see any of you bastards top my week. In fact, the week isn't even over yet. There is the market at Pisac tomorrow, and more ruins, then off to Machu Picchu on Monday.

After the cruel ridiculousness that was my previous week, I am so glad to be away and off experiencing life outside the small fishbowl. And away from some of the stinkier fish.

Breathe. Let go. Live.

There is beauty here like no other I've experienced. There is kindness here that my life was sorely missing. There is adventure here, whispered, breathed, shouted, said in awe-filled breathy hushes-- amazing, unrepeatable, unbeatable ADVENTURE-filled days with my two beautiful sons. Our constant enjoyment and the familiarity one another's company are constant gifts we give to eachother. They are such good traveling companions, such kind people. A trip like this is an eye-opener, and it is truly a bright blessing to behold as my two young sons come to understand how rare this trip is.

Breathe. Live.

Day is done…

$8 million raised for AIDS research & relief.
105 miles, our longest day.
45 miles, our shortest day.
12 camp set-ups and downs.
7 days.
585 miles.
1,840 riders.
2 tired legs.
1 blue bike.

I would like to extend a hearty thank you to all who helped make this ride a reality. Thank you to those who donated to my ride. Thank you Tri-Sports Bikes for making sure I was set with my needs, and for helping me to look ahead and define those needs. Thank you Bryan Zera for technological support.Thank you, Mom, for your support of my wanderlust.

And thank you roadies, for taking care of all of us, and making sure we stayed healthy and safe.

Lifting the spirits

Day six began as a cold, foggy Lompoc morning. Riders were tired, sleepy, and finally showing outright symptoms of a feeling we were all warned about on Orientation Day.

"You've been told about the many mixed emotions you will experience on this ride. Eurphoria, sadness, deep pride," said the announcer. "But I'm here to tell you about one emotion that no one ever talks about. A feeling that lives in all of us, one that we all try to hide. But one morning you will wake up, and you will be tired and cold, and you will be in line at the port-o-potties and wishing for porcelain, and someone will say something to you and you'll snap. And there it will be. I'm talking, of course, about your inner cranky bitch."

Today was the first day I saw many a cranky bitch unleashed. One of them was almost mine.

Did I mention the cold?
The exhaustion?
The stabbing pain in my shoulder?

I will say this: caffiene helps.

All tolled, when the cold lifted a bit after our first rest stop, people began to show signs of elation.

The ride along the coast was spectacular. how could something so beautiful not lift your spirits?

We stopped in Santa Barbara for some Starbucky goodness, and then again a couple miles later, when the good people in the community set up an ice cream stop for the riders including massage tables, water, strawberries and other delectible fruits.

School kids lined the road, cheering us on.

Cranky bitch be damned: it was a beautiful day.

Life in the purple tent city

Whispered conversations stir me from my sleep. A giggle floats past. Once again my conscious mind becomes aware of the sonorous boom from the tent to my left . It rumbles low and deep, and is soon joined by a craggy, nasaly honk three tents behind me. Then a third camper joins in, all unbeknownst. Snoring in stereo.

Such is the nightlife in my purple tent city.

The folks that run the AIDS Lifecycle event have everything so organized, its unbelieveable. If you like to ride and camp, this has to be the most reasonable way to tour the state. There you go: A little known traveling secret.

My day begins at 5:15 a.m., generally speaking. Camp noises bring the day to life early. I dress, pack up my belongings, take down the tent, and scurry over to the port-o-potties to do my business.

That would be the downside of this ride. Port-o-potties are not easy to manage normally (women never sit), but exponentially difficult in riding clips. Suffice it to say, balance is everything.

Breakfast awaits in large tents and is served by unbelievably friendly volunteers. There is an express line, serving oatmeal, yogurt & granola, and fruit. The mainline serves something different daily but the choices are delicious. Breakfast burritos, scrambled eggs and bacon, cottage fries-- all of it delectible and thanks to the riding, guilt free.

Feeling a little sore? There is a sports medicine tent, staffed by sports trainers, chiropractors and occupational therapists. Just need a massage? Sign up at the massage tent.

Soon we head out into the beautiful day. After about 12 miles, we are greeted by one of the many rest stops along the way. When I say rest stop, think "mini camp, sans sleep tents." There is water and gatorade, port-o-potties, and lots and lots of snacks. And a med tent. And a bike repair tent.

To keep things interesting, each rest stop has a theme. Example: The prom. All the volunteers were dressed in various flouncy gowns, waiting on the riders hand and foot.

Later that same day, we reached our last rest stop, whose theme was "Prom after-party." The prom queen desheviled, the prom king drunk, groupies all in various states of rocking outishness to ACDC'S "Back in Black." All while still serving us.

At day's end we roll into camp, greeted by cheering volunteers, pounding drums, playing music, and peals of laughter. This mobile city appears to have magically transported itself: Medical tents, camp store, port-o-potties, all our luggage. We set up our tents, our living spaces, all according to markers laid out for us. We shower in mobile showers which are clean and hot, we dress in jeans and sweats and enjoy our fabulous dinners which are served by dedicated, kind volunteers. Tonight was a choice of chicken marsala or pork ossobucco. I don't know what the vegetarians had, but I'm certain it was good.

And then comes the evening entertainment. There is a talent show tonight. Comedians last night. Each night offers something different.

It is an amazing life, these days of riding and eating and sleeping and starting again.

Best of all, this fundraiser alone has raised $8 million, which will be used to assist those with AIDS.

That alone makes the trip totally worthwhile.

Red Dress Day

Day 5 on the ride is "Red Dress Day," as we pass through Santa Maria and head into Lompoc. Years ago the day began as "Dress in Red Day," with the thought that as riders streamed down the road, their collective line would resemble one, long red ribbon. Over time fashionistas transcended the bland.