Peru, Part One: The Invitation

Every journey begins with a decision that seems ordinary.

Mine began with a simple sentence.

“I want to go to Peru.”

I replied, “I’ll go.”

At the time, I thought I was simply planning another adventure, another stamp in my passport, another country to experience. Peru was after all, on everyone’s bucket list, right?

But before I booked the flight, I did something that my friend asked me to do, became still, and ask my higher self a simple question.

“Why Peru?”

The phrase Land of the Seven Sisters appeared almost instantly.

I had never heard those words associated with Peru before. I had no idea what they meant. After researching them, something shifted inside me. Whether coincidence or something more meaningful, I no longer felt like I was choosing Peru.

It felt like Peru had already chosen me.

Our journey would eventually become much more than a vacation. Three of us would meet on the ground, arriving from Georgia, Australia, and South America—, while three others supported our work from afar. We often referred to it as a spiritual mission, a journey of walking the land with intention, allowing the experience itself to reveal why we had been brought together.

None of us knew what was waiting.

First Impressions of Lima

Before we had even set foot in Peru together, the journey had already begun testing us.

Jacob, who had flown in from Australia, later told me that somewhere over the Pacific his body seemed to completely shut down. For nearly eleven hours he endured what he described as one of the worst physical experiences he could remember. Waves of fever rolled through him, followed by intense chills and uncontrollable sweating. He said it felt as though every ounce of energy had left his body. Most people probably would have sought medical attention the moment they landed, but that’s not who Jacob is. He quietly endured it, spending much of the flight in meditation, determined simply to make it to Peru.

At the time, we hoped it was just a difficult flight or perhaps exhaustion from traveling halfway around the world. Looking back, it almost feels like an unexpected prelude to everything that would follow. Ironically, just a few days later, ceviche would become his greatest adversary of the entire expedition, leaving him desperately ill as we entered the Sacred Valley. What began as a difficult flight would eventually become one of the defining physical challenges of the journey.

I landed in Lima on the evening of July 6, 2026.

Stepping outside the airport, South America introduced itself all at once.

Traffic flowed like organized chaos. Horns echoed through the streets. Cars squeezed into impossibly small spaces without hesitation, somehow avoiding one another by inches. Speed bumps appeared every few hundred feet, forcing the city into a rhythm of accelerating, braking, and accelerating again.

Then I noticed the dogs.

They wandered sidewalks, intersections, and parks as though the city belonged equally to them. For someone who has spent years rescuing animals whenever possible, it was heartbreaking. Every instinct told me to stop, to help, to find them safety.

But Peru quietly offered me my first lesson before the real journey had even begun. BOUNDARIES.

Sometimes compassion also means accepting that you cannot save every soul you meet.

Learning to Adapt

Our first accommodation wasn’t quite what we’d expected. It wasn’t terrible, it simply wasn’t practical for two travelers sharing space. We decided to leave, losing the money I’d already paid, and searched for another place.

Ironically, the replacement listing also promised two beds.

It had one.

As we would discover throughout Lima, “two beds” often meant one actual bed and a pull-out sofa. It became an amusing pattern that repeated itself more than once during the trip.

Travel has a way of reminding you that flexibility is often more valuable than planning.

A City Between Desert and Ocean

Lima surprised me.

I expected lush greenery.

Instead, I found a city carved from sand and concrete. Entire neighborhoods seemed to rise from a coastal desert where green spaces appeared only occasionally between buildings.

Yet the Pacific Ocean transformed everything.

Massive cliffs overlooked an endless horizon, and below them stretched dark beaches of stone and volcanic-looking sand. It wasn’t the kind of shoreline where people spread towels and spent the afternoon.

It felt wild.

Ancient.

Untamed.

Standing along those cliffs, watching the Pacific crash endlessly below, I realized this coastline wasn’t asking to be enjoyed.

It was asking to be respected.

Small Discoveries

One of our favorite discoveries during those first days was Flora & Fauna, a modern health-focused grocery that instantly felt familiar despite being thousands of miles from home. Fresh vegetables, quality meats, eggs, fruit, and wholesome foods lined the shelves.

Although, truthfully, fresh produce wasn’t difficult to find anywhere in Lima.

Fruit vendors seemed to appear on nearly every corner, overflowing with colors I’d rarely seen gathered together in one place.

We were careful about everything we consumed. Bottled water became our constant companion. We brushed our teeth with it, drank only sealed bottles, and paid close attention to what we ate.

That caution would prove to be justified later in the trip with… Ceviche…

Music Without Translation

My Australian friend, Jacob, never traveled without his yidaki, the traditional instrument many people know as the didgeridoo.

Wherever we wandered, the instrument followed.

He played in parks, outside storefronts, inside music shops, and anywhere curiosity invited conversation.

One afternoon we visited a crystal shop after receiving guidance from one of our friends back home to find a sunstone.

As Jacob began playing, something extraordinary unfolded.

One of the women working in the shop became visibly emotional. Tears streamed down her face. Her hands trembled slightly. She began sweating, smiling, crying, all within moments. Language became irrelevant.

She later shared her experience online in Spanish, describing how deeply the music had affected her.

Whether it was the sound, the moment, or something uniquely personal to her, witnessing that transformation reminded me that healing often speaks a language words cannot.

The Trio Becomes Complete

On the evening of July 9, our expedition finally became what it had been intended to be.

Jacob and I had spent the first few days exploring Lima together, but that night we met Yeshua, who had traveled from South America to join us before our flight to Cusco. The three of us had connected through the same spiritual community months earlier, and although we each came from different parts of the world, it felt as though our paths had quietly been moving toward this meeting for quite some time.

Jacob had been carrying a surprise with him since Australia.

Tucked safely in his luggage was a yidaki which he had purchased specifically for Yeshua. When the moment felt right, he handed it over without much fanfare. Watching Yeshua attempt his first notes was both inspiring and hilarious. Producing a sound from a yidaki is far more difficult than it looks, and we all laughed through those first awkward attempts, knowing it would become another part of the adventure.

Although this was my journey too, I often joked that I was the third wheel. Jacob and Yeshua shared a friendship that had been forged long before Peru, and there was an ease between them that only comes from years of shared experiences. I never minded (mostly) Every day was an adventure, and I was grateful simply to be part of it.

People often ask who we were before the journey, but I think that’s the wrong question. A better question is what each of us carried into Peru.

Jacob has always approached spirituality with remarkable discipline. His life reflects the belief that every choice matters, what we eat, what we listen to, what we speak, and the environments we surround ourselves with. He has shared many deeply personal experiences from his life that shaped his understanding of the unseen aspects of existence, and whether or not someone shares those beliefs, there is no questioning his sincerity or his commitment. His days are centered around clean food, intentional living, meditation, music, and the quiet conviction that frequency influences every part of our lives.

Long before I met Jacob, I sensed that something significant was approaching. For nearly a month I carried an unmistakable feeling that my life was about to shift in a way I couldn’t explain. There wasn’t fear attached to it, only anticipation. When we eventually met through our spiritual community, that feeling disappeared almost immediately. I can’t explain why, but it felt as though a missing piece of the puzzle had quietly fallen into place. Before Peru, I also spent time in meditation asking why this journey mattered so much to me. Alongside the phrase “Land of the Seven Sisters,” another impression stayed with me: that abundance would flow through me toward Jacob. At the time I didn’t understand what that meant. Looking back, I do.

Yeshua brought a different kind of strength to our group. Thoughtful, intelligent, and deeply grounded, he has devoted much of his work to helping people explore spirituality through his platform, SOULPATH. He has a way of taking ideas that can feel abstract and making them practical. During our conversations, he often became the bridge between the spiritual and the everyday, helping anchor our experiences in ways that made them easier to understand.

Although each of us viewed the world through a slightly different lens, we shared many of the same values. We believed that intention matters, that music has the power to move people beyond words, that our voices carry healing, and that living consciously begins with the choices we make every single day. Whether someone agreed with our perspectives or not, we were united by a genuine desire to become better human beings and to encourage others to discover their own path.

Looking back now, I think each of us naturally settled into a role without ever discussing it. Jacob became the trailblazer, the pathfinder, the one who quietly stepped forward into the unknown. Yeshua became the anchor, bringing clarity and thoughtful perspective whenever we needed it. As for me, I found myself observing, documenting, asking questions, and reminding all of us not to lose sight of the joy hidden between the profound moments. I brought curiosity, creativity, and, perhaps most importantly, the willingness to simply feel whatever the journey placed in front of me with empathy.

It would take the Sacred Valley for us to fully understand why the three of us had come together. But as we boarded our flight to Cusco the following morning, I already sensed that Lima had simply been the introduction. The real journey was about to begin.

An Orange Backpack

Not every memorable moment was mystical.

Jacob’s backpack finally surrendered, forcing us into a department store where he purchased the brightest orange Reebok backpack imaginable.

From that moment forward, finding him became the easiest task of the trip.

Whether we were wandering crowded streets or climbing ancient mountains, I could spot that backpack from what felt like a mile away.

It became an unexpected landmark for the rest of Peru.

The Market

One of my favorite places in Lima wasn’t a famous landmark.

It was the local market.

Rows of fruit, vegetables, spices, fresh meals, and conversations filled every corner. People gathered over inexpensive plates of food while vendors prepared meals just a few feet away.

Again, Jacob played his yidaki.

The market gradually fell quiet.

People stopped what they were doing, smiled, applauded, and gathered around an instrument most had likely never seen before. For a few minutes, music became the only language anyone needed.

Looking back, those first three days weren’t really about sightseeing.

They were about learning how to slow down.

To observe instead of rushing.

To listen before speaking.

To notice the remarkable hidden quietly inside ordinary moments.

Lima wasn’t simply the city where our journey began.

It was the place that gently prepared us for everything that came next.

But not before this dish of Ceviche did a number on Jacob…