From Lockdown to the Lost City: My Journey Through Peru 

May 2022 | Lima • Sacred Valley • Machu Picchu • Cusco 

After two years of COVID restrictions, canceled plans, and staying close to home, I was finally getting on a plane again. 

My first post-COVID vacation was going to be Peru. 

It was May 2022, my birthday, and I had signed up for a seven-day CostSaver tour that would take me from Lima to the Sacred Valley, Machu Picchu, and Cusco. 

I didn’t know it at the time, but this trip would be about much more than seeing famous places. It would remind me how much I love traveling, introduce me to people who would become friends, challenge me in ways I never expected, and open my eyes to a part of the world I hadn’t yet explored. 

Lima: I Was Back in the World 

I wasn’t even in Lima for an hour before I made a connection. 

On the shuttle from the airport to the hotel, I started talking with Fernanda and Paulina, a mother and daughter from California, who were also on my tour. There was an instant connection, and somehow, before we’d even reached the hotel, I already had travel companions. 

That felt really good. 

After spending so much time separated from people during COVID, there was something wonderful about sitting next to strangers and simply talking. No planning. No effort. Just one of those spontaneous travel connections that happens when you put yourself out into the world. 

Our hotel, the Hilton Garden Inn Lima, was brand new and absolutely fabulous. It was perfectly located in Miraflores. We arrived around 7 a.m., long before our rooms were ready, but the staff greeted us warmly, gave us a place to freshen up, offered us coffee, and stored our luggage. 

I was already feeling taken care of. 

After freshening up, I headed outside into the cool morning air to explore. I wandered along the Miraflores boardwalk, snapping pictures and exploring the shops at Larcomar. I was also searching for the hop-on, hop-off trolley I had decided I wanted to find. 

I never did. 

But I didn’t really care. 

The Miraflores boardwalk follows the cliffs overlooking the Pacific, with green spaces, flowerbeds, outdoor exercise areas, monuments, and places to simply sit and take in the view. Even beneath Lima’s overcast morning sky, the view toward the Pacific was breathtaking. 

And here I was, thousands of miles from home, looking out over the Pacific and simply taking it all in. 

That evening, my new California friends and I went out to dinner in one of the trendy areas of Miraflores. One of them — definitely not me — was adventurous enough to order cuy, or guinea pig. 

I can still see it now, spread out on the plate, little hands and feet and all. 

Nope. 

I opted for chicken with yuca fries. 

Mmmm. I love yuca. 

I would continue ordering it whenever I had the chance. 

I was also very grateful that my new friends were fluent in Spanish. It came in handy more than once during the trip. 

After dinner, we ended up at the rooftop bar at our hotel drinking Pisco Sours. We started chatting with the bartenders and somehow became friends with them, too. At some point, my new friends decided I was the “coolest gringa.” 

I’ll take that. 

I remember looking out from that rooftop at Lima on a Friday night — the lights, the cars, the people, the energy of the city. 

There is something about looking out over a city at night that sends me into my own thoughts. I start imagining people’s lives. Families having dinner. Friends meeting for drinks. Someone heading home from work. Someone celebrating. Someone worrying about something completely different. 

And yet, in so many ways, life looks the same everywhere. 

People are simply living. 

After two years of COVID, there was something incredibly moving about being surrounded by all that life again. 

I had been back in the world for less than a day, and already I was soaking it in. 

Lima, People, and the Joy of Conversation 

The next day we explored Lima’s historic center — Plaza Mayor, the Cathedral, Government Palace, and the San Francisco Monastery. 

The buildings and history opened my eyes to the different chapters of Peru’s story, but what stayed with me most was the feeling of moving through a place where centuries of history and everyday life exist side by side. 

That evening, I was sitting in the hotel lobby having a pre-dinner cocktail when I connected with another traveler, Michelle from Ireland. 

We hit it off almost immediately. 

We talked about our lives, travel, the trip, places we’d been, and places we wanted to go. I had no idea then that I would eventually visit Michelle in Ireland, or that this person I had just met would become a dear friend. 

Dinner that night was with our tour group at a quaint Peruvian restaurant. It gave me a chance to meet more of our fellow travelers, many of whom were from different parts of the United States. 

And then the conversations started. 

We talked about our first impressions of Lima and the journeys that had gotten us there — rerouted flights, lost luggage, rides to the wrong hotel. We reminisced about other countries we’d visited, shared recommendations, and talked about places still on our lists. 

The conversation was intoxicating. 

I honestly couldn’t tell you what I ate that night. 

And that’s okay. 

Some dinners are about the food. Others are about the people sitting around the table. 

This was one of the latter. 

Walking to and from the restaurant through downtown Lima was another experience altogether. The streets were crowded, there was a festival happening, and everywhere we looked people were out celebrating, talking, laughing, and connecting. 

It was overwhelming. 

And exciting. 

Again, I found myself watching people simply experiencing life. 

I had missed that. 

And Then Peru Reminded Me I Wasn’t in Charge 

Then came my birthday. 

And the early flight to Cusco. 

I had drunk all the coffee in my hotel room the days before leaving. I figured would simply get my morning cappuccino at the airport. 

Wrong. 

It was so early that there was almost nothing open. Getting checked in and through security was chaotic, and by the time I reached the gate, there was no concession where I could get coffee. 

I may have gotten a small cup on the plane. 

It wasn’t enough. 

I could feel the headache starting. 

Then we landed in Cusco. 

And the altitude joined the party. 

What started as a caffeine headache became a migraine unlike anything I had ever experienced. 

Not just a bad headache. 

A migraine. 

I had never experienced that kind of pain and nausea before. I was miserable.

As we began our journey from Cusco toward the Sacred Valley, I became increasingly depleted. We stopped for lunch, but I couldn’t eat. I tried to visit a market and ended up turning around and going back to the bus. I curled up on two seats and covered my head. 

And we still had hours to go. 

At one of our stops to take in the view, I finally got off the bus and found Angel, our guide. 

I told him how bad I was feeling. 

Angel and our driver immediately went into action. 

Our driver rushed over with a spray of something that smelled wonderful. He had me spray it into my hands, rub them together, place my hands over my face, and breathe deeply. 

And somehow, it helped the nausea. 

That small act of kindness has stayed with me. 

So has the memory of just how miserable I was. 

To this day, I tell people about this migraine because it was so unbelievable. I had never experienced anything like it. I went from happily exploring Peru to wondering if I was going to be sick on the side of the road. 

My travel companions could see how bad I felt. They gently told me I didn’t look well. 

They were right. 

By the time we finally reached our charming hotel in the Sacred Valley, I had nothing left. 

I grabbed my room key at the Ava Valle Sagrado Spot, darkened the room completely, and crawled into bed. 

And slept. 

For two and a half hours. 

I even missed part of our group dinner. 

When I woke up, though, it was as if someone had flipped a switch. 

I felt dramatically better. 

I cleaned up and went to the front desk to find out where my group had gone. The clerk called Angel. He told her to have me start walking down the street and that he would meet me. 

He did. 

And once again, someone was looking out for me. 

I was reunited with the group and managed to get something to eat. 

But the evening didn’t end there. 

When we returned to the hotel, several of us gathered in the garden and outdoor bar area. We sat outside in the fresh air, surrounded by wonderful people and good conversation. 

Fresh air. Great people. Great conversation. 

I never wanted the evening to end. 

After being so sick earlier that day, I was sitting outside in the Sacred Valley, feeling good again and surrounded by people I had only just met but already felt connected to. 

What a way to spend my birthday. 

And somehow, it felt perfect. 

The Road to Machu Picchu 

The next morning, the excitement returned. 

Everyone gathered again in the hotel garden. The sun was shining, the sky was blue, and the mountains surrounded us. 

I think we all could have sat there for hours. 

But eventually, it was time to go. 

Machu Picchu was getting closer. 

We rode the bus into town to catch the train. And what a train ride it was. 

The glass-topped train gave us an almost 360-degree view of the world outside. Mountains rose around us, valleys stretched into the distance, and lush green hills seemed to unfold with every turn. I remember looking out the side windows, then tilting my head back to take in the view through the glass roof, afraid I might miss something. Everywhere I looked, there was another beautiful scene waiting to be discovered. 

What I didn’t know was how close we had come to the entire plan being disrupted. 

Protests had been disrupting transportation routes to Machu Picchu in the days leading up to our visit. Local communities were protesting the transportation system that carried visitors between Aguas Calientes and the ruins, demanding that a community-owned company be allowed to operate alongside the company that currently had exclusive access to the route. As part of the protest, sections of the railway to Machu Picchu were blocked, forcing the suspension of train service and leaving thousands of travelers stranded. 

Our guide had been working behind the scenes, trying to figure out what we would do if the protests continued and we couldn’t get there. We had no clue about the uncertainty. For us, Machu Picchu was simply a matter of showing up at the train station and going. We were depending on a transportation system that could be shut down at any moment. Somehow, our guide kept working the problem, watching the situation closely and trying to make sure that, if there was a way to get us there, we would find it. 

Thank goodness everything went as planned. 

And thank goodness I didn’t know all of this at the time. 

I might have worried the entire way. 

When we arrived in Aguas Calientes, I was excited — and overwhelmed. 

There were people everywhere. 

Tours. Groups. Lines. Movement. 

I remember getting my passport stamped with the Machu Picchu stamp. Such a small thing, but I loved it. 

There it was in my passport. 

Proof that I had made it. 

Machu Picchu 

Then came the day I’d been waiting for. 

Machu Picchu. 

My first thoughts weren’t particularly poetic. 

Will I be able to walk? 

Will I be able to climb? 

Will I be able to breathe? 

I really wasn’t sure what I was about to experience. 

After the altitude had already challenged me so dramatically, I wasn’t taking anything for granted. 

And then the views began to reveal themselves. 

Awe took over. 

I started laughing at myself because, seriously, I considered myself to be in pretty good shape. 

And yet three steps could leave me breathless. 

Three steps! 

But I figured it out. 

I slowed down. I stopped when I needed to. I breathed. I listened to my body. 

And I realized I could do it. 

There was something incredibly satisfying about that — not conquering Machu Picchu, exactly, but learning how to experience it on my own terms. 

What struck me most was the openness. 

I have always loved wide-open spaces, and Machu Picchu gave me that in a way I hadn’t expected. Mountains stretching into the distance. Sky above me. An enormous landscape surrounding this extraordinary place. 

And then I started thinking about the people who had lived here. 

A civilization existed here. 

People lived, worked, built, worshipped, raised families, and created a life in this incredible landscape centuries ago. 

That blows my mind. 

I took picture after picture, trying to capture what I was seeing. 

But some experiences don’t really fit into a photograph. 

What made the day even more special was sharing the joy with my tour group. We had started the trip as strangers, and now we were experiencing something extraordinary together. 

At one point, our guide sang to me as part of the story he was telling during our journey through the site. 

It was completely unexpected. 

And I was a little embarrassed. 

But I made myself get comfortable with it and simply enjoy the moment. 

That’s travel, too. 

Sometimes you have to stop worrying about how you look or what other people think and just let yourself be part of the experience. 

When it was finally time to leave, I wasn’t sad. 

I felt peaceful. 

The experience had been overwhelming in the best possible way. 

I had seen Machu Picchu. 

I had actually done it. 

Cusco 

My last couple of days were spent in Cusco. 

Cusco felt familiar almost immediately. 

Not because I had been there before, but because I recognized something I love: old streets, cobblestones, centuries of history layered one on top of another. I could have wandered those streets for hours. 

Of course, Cusco had other plans for me. 

Every time I walked uphill, my lungs reminded me that I was very much a visitor at 11,000 feet. 

I continued to laugh at myself.  

That first night, we were on our own for dinner. As I wandered around looking for a restaurant, I bumped into Michelle. 

We decided to find a place together and settled into a quaint, trendy restaurant. 

I can still see us, clear as day, sitting there with our drinks, talking and taking in the atmosphere. 

There was something wonderful about that moment — being in a beautiful old city, sitting in a restaurant with a new friend, talking about life and travel, with no place we needed to be. 

After all the new foods I had been experiencing, I went with something wonderfully familiar. 

A burger. 

The next day we explored more of Cusco, including the Church and Convent of Santo Domingo, built over the remains of Qorikancha, one of the most important sacred sites of the Inca Empire. 

I loved seeing the layers of history — the Spanish colonial church built over the remarkable Incan stonework. It was one of those places where history didn’t feel like something you were reading about in a book. 

You could literally see it beneath your feet. 

Along the way, I had my first empanadas — one filled with cheese and another with banana. I love Peruvian empanadas! 

We also visited the home of a Quechua family, giving us a glimpse into their traditions and everyday life. 

Then came the Maras Salt Mines. 

Thousands of salt pools spread across the mountainside, creating a landscape that was both beautiful and completely unexpected. 

And once again, I found myself taking pictures, looking around, and thinking about how different this was from anything I knew back home. 

Our final dinner together was a wonderful way to end the trip. 

There was music, laughter, and the easy camaraderie that develops when a group of strangers spends several days traveling together. 

And that night, I tried another Peruvian first: 

Ceviche. 

By then, trying something new felt like part of the adventure. 

More Than a Vacation 

When I look back at my Peru trip, I realize it was about much more than checking Machu Picchu off a travel list. 

It was my first vacation after COVID. 

It was my birthday. 

It was new friendships — some that lasted beyond the trip. 

It was challenging myself physically, laughing at myself when three steps left me gasping for air, and learning to trust my body. 

It was discovering how much I love wide-open spaces, old cities, cobblestone streets, history, food, and simply wandering around somewhere unfamiliar. 

Most of all, it gave me a new perspective. 

After spending so much time unable to travel, Peru opened something back up in me. It reminded me how much I love seeing the world and experiencing places that are different from my own. 

And it sparked something else: a desire to explore more of South America. 

Peru wasn’t just my first post-COVID vacation. 

In many ways, it felt like the beginning of my return to the world. 

And what better way to begin than with a birthday in Peru?