That time I was in South America and Everything Was Beautiful and Nothing Hurt

Excerpt from journal
March 8, 2009
Peru

Train to Machu Picchu, the cars barrel down the tracks at a frantic pace, immense foliage and rock a blur, the mountains can be seen every 30 to 40 seconds, their presence is indescribable, they are the most immense things I've ever seen. You feel as if you're being whisked away to meet some god, barreling deeper and deeper into the jungle. It does not feel real. It does not feel real. I'm so out of my body right now. It's eerie almost. On all sides, you're closed in by jungle, the mountains tower over, the green is so thick and overgrown, you really feel like you're traveling to the heart, the core, of something. The window is open, the air is cool and damp, it's been raining. The only sound is the wheels over the train tracks, and the occasional twitter of a bird. There's a stillness- a majesty- a watchfulness- about this jungle. There's a condescending wisdom to it. White fog clings to the tops of the mountains. The sky is overcast. The rock faces under the green foliage are various shades of brown and wet gray. To my left is a window, and the mountains are there. To my right, across the car, is the view of the powerful, rushing water of the river. There's an indescribable solitude about this ride. You are aware of other people in the car, but no one is speaking, and nothing registers over the sound of the clicking of the train tracks. You feel alone because you are witnessing something- something that surrounds and cloaks you. I shake my head at certain moments, at the impossibility of a place like this existing. It's too beautiful, too powerful, too overwhelming. You feel unworthy, basically. You feel like you're seeing too much, like how could you be so lucky to see this? And when I look around, finally acknowledging that others are around me, I see some people sleeping. How? That's all I can ask. It's like a dream. A hazy, mythical dream. We go under rock tunnels, and the whole train car goes dark. This isn't how we originally planned to see it, but it doesn't matter, because nothing could be better than this. I think this is how I was supposed to travel to Machu Picchu. You have to "see" the journey, you have to see what it is that you're traveling to the heart of. If we had taken the train last night like we were supposed to, it would have been pitch black, and we would have missed all this, missed the poetry, missed the implication. I'm so grateful we missed that train! This ride is like being told a story, a story that you need to hear before you reach Machu Picchu. Because it's not just Machu Picchu, it's this whole country. And seeing all this, on this train, reinforces all that.