Wow, we are so tired. I tried to type last night and my brain did not feel like it was making any connections. The travel and the race and the altitude have really hit me hard. I feel so lazy.
It took us about 2 hours to get to this cafe today, and wont expect to get back here very often.
Linnea and I have a small concrete room to ourselves. The door to this room is probably about 5 feet high, and Linnea hits her head every time. We are staying in the town of Musho, directly north and a little east of Lima, where Quechua is the main language.
Last night I spoke about how God writes a story in each of our lives, and how I have been learning to say yes to God. I said that I had not planned on being in the Andes when we signed up for the world race, but God has led us here.
It is funny, because my parents were in Bolivia for 2 years, and growing up, we had a llama skin hanging over our couch, I remember being fascinated by all the missionary stuff, by the belt and blankets and helmet.
My mom had a belt with pockets on it, and in one of these pockets were some coca leaves. My mom would bring all this stuff in when the 4th grade in the school was studying South America. I managed to get in trouble when my mom brought this in and we snuck some of the coca leaves because someone said they were drugs and we made a big deal out of it, and some parents were offended, so you know who was made to be the example. Still have trouble forgiving that principal, I just remembered.
So it has been a long and strange journey to the Andes and the Quechua.
