Earlier this year my little bro and I travelled to Peru to schlep along the Inca Trail to the lost city of Machu Piccu. We’d been planning the adventure for an entire decade and our tickets had been booked six months previously, but it’s an understatement to say that the day of departure snuck up on me.
It felt like I rushed out of work at 5:30pm on a Wednesday, threw a pile of poorly-selected leisure-wear in a duffle bag, left for Heathrow in what can only be described as a “tizz” and flew to South America early the next morning. All of a sudden I realised I was on the other side of the world, standing on the streets of Lima outside our tiny Peruvian guest house, squinting into the pale April sunlight. Continue reading