Welcome to the Jungle Baby!

        I spent last weekend visiting the nearby (but oh so far away!) jungle town of Quillabamba. To reach Quillabamba from Urubamba you can jump in any one of the many cars, buses, or llama-drawn carriages heading through the breathtaking (and probably life-taking) mountain pass that separates the Sacred Valley from the jungle of Peru.

        The time the journey takes depends on exactly how much you value your life: if you want you could grab life by the cajones and speed along the twisted, cloud covered, and cliff-hugging 161 km to Quillabamba and be there in four hours, but a more reasonable driver would do it in 5-6 hours.

I did consider that despite their disadvantages llama-drawn carriages don't have "brake issues".

        Did you see that photo up there? When you see the sort of sheer drops that await anyone who has the misfortune to take a turn just a bit too wide you wouldn't fault someone who opted for an eight hour tour.

        This nerve-racking, but beautiful road deposited me in Quillabamba on Friday the 16th in the late afternoon. With a bright blue sky above me and the ferocious sun beating down on me the city was really living up to its nickname as "the city of eternal summer". I was forced to make an ice-cream stop en route to my hostel.

But the heat felt oh-so-good.

        Now my reasons for visiting Quillabamba were purely exploratory. I really wanted to take a weekend away from Urubamba to simply relax and unwind a bit. So why not the jungle?

        .... OK fine. The truth of the matter was that I'd heard that Quillabamba was something of a major hub for coffee in Peru. For those of you that know me you'll know that I perked up more upon hearing this than a kid does at the sound of "free candy" (or a major CEO at the sound of "free cocaine"). This little bit of information sealed the deal for me: I was going to Quillabamba and I was going to visit a coffee plantation.

        With all the love that coffee gets from the Western world you'd imagine that there would be more interest in coffee farm tours. Vineyards give tours, right? Why not coffee? If people can sit for hours tasting different wines talking about the "beautiful bouquet" of this wine or the "hint of cinnamon and cheese" in that wine the least I can get is a basic tour of a coffee plantation. Right? Whatever the reason I did not meet a single person in Quillabamba or otherwise who knew of any coffee plantations who offered tours. Coffee fields mockingly studded the mountainsides all around the city yet no one could point me towards a farm? I found this rather strange.


        Generally in Peru, someone always "knows a guy". If you need your toaster fixed the butcher will tell you to visit his cousin down the road. If you're looking for a guide to show you around "that mountain over there" you can bet that the little kid sitting on the corner has an uncle or a friend of a friend of a friend who'll take you there. Hell, you could probably find someone who sells baby ocelots if you've got the money. It's just the way things work around here. But strangely enough asking about coffee plantation tours draw many blank-faced stares.

"Would you like the one of the left or the right, sir?"

        But determined as I was to see a coffee farm and learn the ins and outs of its production I did what I seem to do best: I went exploring.

        Without much more to go off than "I've heard there are lots of fields that way" I set off. I heard that on the way to the "Waterfalls of Mandor" roughly 20 minutes outside Quillabamba there were many coffee chankras (small family-owned fields). My plan was to get dropped off in Mandor and hike my way to the waterfalls hopefully coming across some family kind enough to show me their way of life. I was going to make a day out of this little adventure.

I better put on my badass sunglasses.

        I found a taxi to take me down the dirt road leading to Mandor where I would start my hike up to the waterfalls. He was kind enough to drop me off somewhere between "Where are we again?" and "Are you sure this is it?"

"Here? Really? If you say so."

        It wasn't long into my upward hike that I looked to my left and saw a small patch of paved ground covered in drying coffee beans. Where there's smoke, there's fire. I was close.

So close.

        Visions of inky dark expressos made from only hours old coffee grounds pushed me towards the farmhouse. I wasn't particularly worried. Confident in my Spanish and armed with my irresistible charm who could say no to this lovable gringo? Three bemused Peruvians, a man and two women, were outside the house. Few people and even fewer foreigners visit this part of Peru. To say that this particular family was not expecting visitors of my, um, complexion would be a fair guess.

        "Um hi. My name is Benjamin and I'm a volunteer in Urubamba." Damn, I sound like I'm selling something."Ah... These are your coffee chankras, right?"

        "That's right. They belonged to my parents and now they're mine" replied the man. 

        He said it with curiosity and a slight edge of distrust as if to say "what's it to you?". I flashed them all as big of a smile as I could manage and plowed on.

        "I'm only here because I wanted to ask you if I could see how you produce your coffee. I saw the drying beans from the road and I'm really curious about the whole process. I know that coffee comes from a red fruit, but from there to my cup in the morning it's all a mystery."

       They all visibly relaxed. A smile of realization spread across their faces as they saw that I was just a harmless traveler looking for a little tour. They welcomed me in and invited me to sit down. The man was kind and explained everything I wanted to know. He showed me the process from fruit to final product explaining how the fruits are harvested, sorted, de-shelled, cleaned, dried, and roasted. The family laughed often as I continually asked "Could you show me how you do that?" and "Can I see the tools you use for this?"

The red ones are ready to be picked. By hand, naturally.

A coffee pod "de-sheller". That's a scientific term.

A coffee bean roaster.

A hand cranked coffee bean grinder.

        The man happily showed me around his small farm. He proudly pointed to his large mango trees, his many lines of coca bushes, his banana groves, and his occasional cocoa and papaya plants. It was more more than I was expecting when I spotted the drying coffee beans from the road. In roughly one hectare of land this family of three was raising pretty much all of the essential cash crops of this region. I was loving it.

Walking among the coffee plants.

Coca leaves in the front. A cocoa pod in the background.

        I must've done something right because the family was kind enough to invite me to lunch there at the farm. I enjoyed chatting with them and the man opened up a bit a share some of his true feelings about export coffee prices and how much he makes on the kilo compared to what it sells for abroad.

       I left after lunch and tipped the family well. A couple hour tour and lunch was more than worth the tip I left them, but they seemed quite pleased and surprised to receive anything at all. They told me to come back and visit some day even if that day comes many years from now. Perhaps I will.

To be honest, they were probably just trying to set me up with their daughter.

        After my coffee farm adventure I continued up the hour long climb to the waterfalls. At the base of the hike I was told that it was a 20 minute walk. Halfway to the top I was told it's roughly 30 minutes in total and only once I could actually see the waterfall did I realize it was closer to an hour than anything else. Let that be a lesson Ben: those who have actually gone the distance are the best judges of the time. Now that I think about it that applies to a lot of things in life.

        The falls were lovely though. Well worth the hike. I spent some time admiring them before I set back. I wanted to reach Quillabamba before nightfall. The rest of my time in that jungle town was spent either sleeping, reading, or chatting with the hotel staff. There was a lot of sports to be watched. I even managed to catch the Wales V. France rugby match on Saturday. It's been a while since I saw one of those!

        It was exactly what the doctor ordered. Just a bit of down time to do my own thing and relax. Life continues to come along well here in Urubamba and I've adjusted well to independent living. While Peru may not be the U.S. of A. and Urubamba certainly isn't Madison the life lessons I've learned from living and traveling alone for the past two months will carry over well.

Hasta pronto amigos!