Big Five – FeedSomething unique happened this year. Gisela Susie and I were all in Peru at different times. We expanded our dispatch report to include all our visits since all of us were in very different areas. The first dispatch had Susie glamping in remote Peru. The previous dispatch had me in the southern Amazon.
This ultimate dispatch from Gisela shares the same theme, beyond Machu Picchu. Enjoy!
Peru: Returning Home, Discovering More
Some journeys take us somewhere new.
Others bring us back to the people, places, and memories that remind us who we are.
My recent time in Peru was very much the latter.
Every time I return to Peru, I tell myself it will be different. I’ll focus on work, visit a few new places, and keep moving. Yet somehow, each trip becomes something much more personal.
Coming home means early conversations with my parents over coffee. It means gathering around a table with my siblings, hearing familiar stories that never seem to get old, and spending time with my nephews, who somehow look taller every time I see them. It means reconnecting with lifelong friends as if no time has passed at all. These are the moments that ground me before the journey even begins.
One of the things I love most about being in Lima is that the city never stops revealing itself to me. Through family, friends, and unexpected conversations, I continue to uncover small places and remarkable people I never knew existed. Even after all these years, Peru still finds ways to surprise me.
My journey began at Lake Titicaca, a place that always slows my pace and quiets my mind.l Surrounded by endless sky and water, I found myself doing something we rarely allow ourselves to do: simply sit still. The lake has a way of softening the noise of everyday life, replacing it with the gentle rhythm of wind, water, and reflection.
What stayed with me most was not the landscape, although it was extraordinary.
It was the people.
During a visit to the floating Uros Islands, I spent time with families who welcomed me into their homes and shared stories of life on the lake. There was no performance, no script, no effort to impress. Just genuine conversations and a generosity of spirit that reminded me why human connection is always at the heart of meaningful travel.
Later, on Taquile Island, surrounded by breathtaking views and centuries-old traditions, I found myself thinking about how quickly the world moves today. Here, life follows a different rhythm. The art of weaving, community, and family remain central to daily life. There was something comforting about witnessing traditions that continue not because they are preserved for visitors, but because they still matter to the people who live them every day.
My journey continued through the Andean highlands, where winding roads cut through vast open landscapes and distant peaks seemed to stretch endlessly toward the horizon. Somewhere between the dramatic rock formations of the altiplano and the quiet villages scattered across the countryside, I found myself slowing down. Peru has a way of doing that. It gently reminds you that not every moment needs to be rushed.
There were unforgettable experiences along the way. Standing quietly during a traditional fire ceremony as smoke drifted into the cool mountain air. Watching Andean condors circle effortlessly above the canyon, suspended between earth and sky. Wandering the sunlit streets of Arequipa, where the white volcanic stone seemed to glow in the late afternoon light.
Yet what stays with me most are the smaller moments.
The scent of wood smoke rising from a kitchen before dinner. The sound of laughter carried across a village square. Fresh bread still warm from the oven. A grandmother carefully explaining a tradition that had been passed down through generations. The pride in someone’s voice when speaking about their community, their food, or their history.
Those are the moments that linger long after I return home.
Being from Chiclayo, food has always been one of the ways I connect most deeply with Peru. Every region tells its story differently. Sometimes it’s through a recipe handed down through generations. Other times it’s in the aroma of spices filling a local market or the first taste of a dish that instantly transports me back to childhood. During this trip, I was reminded once again that some of Peru’s richest history is found around a table, shared between people who are eager to tell the story behind what they’re serving.
Toward the end of my journey, I spent time crossing the Andes by rail. For hours, I sat watching the landscape unfold beyond the window. Golden grasslands stretched toward distant mountains. Small herds grazed quietly beside shimmering lakes. Every so often, a cluster of adobe homes would appear and disappear again, as though the countryside was slowly revealing its secrets. There was no need for conversation. The changing scenery told its own story.
One afternoon, I found myself watching sheep move along the shoreline of Lake Titicaca as the water reflected the soft light of the fading day. It was such a simple moment, yet it captured everything I love about this country. Not the grand monuments or famous landmarks, but the quiet beauty of everyday life continuing as it always has.
As the journey came to a close, I realized that every time I return to Peru, I arrive thinking about the places I want to revisit.
What I leave thinking about are the people.
The friend who insists I stay for one more cup of coffee. The family member who gathers everyone around the table. The artisan proud to share her craft. The farmer who speaks about the land as though it were part of the family.
Those connections are what draw me back again and again. They remind me that home is not always a place. Sometimes it is a feeling.
And that is exactly what Peru continues to be for me. A place that feels wonderfully familiar, yet somehow still holds the power to surprise me every single time.
By Gisela Polo
