Bored out of my mind, I took a night bus from Arequipa to the coastal reserve of Paracas, an extension of the Atacama desert. While being shuttled from sight to sight, my guide got a phone call saying a whale had been beached a few minutes from where we were.



It had been there for at least seven hours. Over a hundred people were there, shouting at each other about what should be done. People had managed to get it onto a net, but the equipment was inadequate to haul the thing across the deep, sticky mud.



Eventually, all other plans having failed, it was agreed that the whale should be rolled out to sea. This was accomplished, to great cheers, but I'm afraid the whale was completely exhausted, and probably crushed by rolling over its own weight. The last news I heard of the great beast's well-being before leaving Paracas was not bright.



I'm reading Che Guevara's Motorcycle Diaries now. Some of his struggles are eerily familiar. I wish, though, that we'd been able to take more opportunities to engage people along the way, instead of rushing through the landscape and sleeping in hostels. The junket proved that an adventure of its grade doesn't tolerate a timeline. It didn't help that I was one of seemingly only a few people who spoke much Spanish—it seems not many Britts learn it in school.

This trip was meant to be and opportunity to get some distance from my life and contemplate my future. I've certainly achieved the distance, and my attitude toward my life at home has shifted, but I can't say that I've come to any pointed conclusions. Contrary to my expectations, being "out in the world" has made me less enthusiastic to go join a project somewhere. I need to think more subtly about how to feel like I'm contributing to the world while keeping happy. I've warmed a little to the idea of getting some more education, and to finding incrementally different lines of work in Seattle.

I'm greatful for this trip, and especially for everyone I've met, from the Lima lawyer on the bus to Huancayo, to my great companions across a thousand miles of mountain and desert.

I'll get dinner now and contemplate my life a minute more, then gather my things and head for the airport. See many of you soon. Thanks for listening.