#StuckInPeru March 2020

It is 5am, dark and freezing, and we are gathered in Aguas Calientes at the entrance to Machu Picchu. All they kept repeating to us was ‘cerrado, cerrado’. They closed Machu Picchu while we were standing there, ready to go up. 

While we were eating dinner the night before, the president of Peru shocked everyone by announcing a nationwide shutdown of Peru’s airports, transportation (including banning the use of private cars), curfews, and a strict quarantine for everyone that would be enforced by police and military — starting the next day. We were assured that we would be the last group in if we got to Machu Picchu early (6am), and that they would close the site at 8am. But no, ‘cerrado’ at 5am.

When we realised we were’t getting in, it became pure disaster-movie pandemonium. Every tourist in Aguas Calientes realised at the same time that if he/she didn’t get on the next few trains heading back to Cusco, transport would shut down that day, and you would be stuck at Machu Picchu for the next 15 days of lockdown. So there we were, hundreds of panic stricken humans storming the little train station and fighting to get on the last trains out. I made it out on the first train — with aplomb. 

Lockdown in Peru is no joke. The shutdown was immediate, but being given 24 hours notice meant that almost none of the thousands of tourists spread across the country were able to get to Lima’s airport and out of the country in time. In Peru, lockdown means 2500 arrests so far for breaking the rules. It means police go into hostels, tell everyone to go to their rooms, then breathalyse and arrest those over the limit. It means stores are banned from selling alcohol. It means that if you are in a hotel or hostel, only one guest at a time is allowed out to go to the grocery store or pharmacy. It means there are no private cars on the roads. And it means if you go outside after 8pm, like one guy caught on video taking out his rubbish, you will be arrested. 

And yet, it is the right way to do it. Except for stranding thousands of tourists (check out #stuckinperu), this country of 33 million has managed 400 infections and 9 deaths thus far by not allowing us to go to beauty salons (who needs their hair done in quarantine?), and by implementing a strict, uniform approach across the country. 

Big, huge shout out to my buddy Jack up in Brisbane whose Cusco Airbnb I am lucky to be staying in right now (https://abnb.me/MQ8xFUKA94). On a hill in the historic centre, Jack has made his home available for as long as I need it, and I can leave at a moment’s notice. Tammy, my neighbour and local host, checks up on me everyday, translates announcements I don’t understand, and even drops off some bangin’ dinners from time to time. I’m am not suffering in this home, but I am beginning to talk to myself out loud . . .

Attended my first virtual party last weekend. My buddy Patrick Perez in Los Angeles had the good fortune of being born in March, so we all celebrated him virtually. Definitely looking forward to more of these in the near future. We all logged in, had our favourite libation on hand, wore party hats, and he hired both a magician and a comedian for mid-party entertainment. Full of banter and giggles we made a good 5 hours of it . . .

What’s next? I am no different than anyone else. I have no real clue what the next 24, 48, 72 hours may hold. We are under lockdown until April 1st. Qantas and LATAM stop flying to Australia on March 30th, I have seats on a yet-to-be cancelled flight to Mexico City on 1st, and from there will have to figure out what airlines are flying and what borders are open. And there is also the possibility of Peru extending its lockdown. As for Australia and repatriation flights, it has been made clear that there are no official flights being run by the government. They are facilitating charter flights (should they materialise), which are being organised by tour companies. So far there has only been one organised and it has yet to come . . . who really knows . . .

So lemme leave you with some images of the good ol’ days, right before lockdown, and when my only concern was being hammered by altitude sickness.