Cusco, Peru (Vanessa Broadbent photo)

Vanessa Broadbent

Osoyoos Times

Two weeks ago I visited Peru for three reasons: I had always wanted to, I had the holiday time and could, and I had just accepted the role as editor of the Osoyoos Times and wanted time to mentally reset before starting the position.

While there, I of course had to visit Machu Picchu. To see the ancient Inca city, you’re, for the most part, limited to two ways to do so: either trek through the Andes, which takes upwards of four days, or pay to take a train to the base city of Aguas Calientes and then bus up to the ruins.

Due to most treks needing permits purchased months in advance, and poor last minute planning on my part, as well as an unexpectedly limiting bout of altitude sickness, I went with the latter.

So at four in the morning on a Monday I was waiting for a taxi that I was told would pick me up from my hostel and bring me to a bus that would then take me to my train to Machu Picchu, so when a driver knocked on the door and knew my name, I trusted him enough to go with him.

The street outside was narrow and could only fit one car at a time; the taxi barely even left room to walk around it to get to the trunk.

As I was about to open the door and attempt to squeeze into the car, the driver motioned for me to stop and, I assumed, told me to wait. So I did, as he started running, away from me and the car, down the cobblestone road and around the corner until I couldn’t see him anymore.

I kept waiting. It was cold and I was tired and confused, so even though I thought it was odd when I noticed that there was a second driver in the car, I got in when he motioned for me to. My not-even-conversational Spanish was even worse so early in the morning but I assumed he had told me to wait in the car.

I started to notice something was off when he started driving, without the initial driver, the one that knew my name and where I was heading.

Luckily, while I was still trying to string my words together and question what was happening, the initial driver came speeding down the road and stopped nose to nose with the car I was in. Without room for either to pass, he jumped out, banged on my window and repeatedly shouted “lady” while motioning for me to get out of the car and into his.

I did, and finally felt fully awake, despite only having woken up not even a half hour earlier.

It’s now been just over a week at the Osoyoos Times and I’m feeling a little overwhelmed.

While I did manage to reset during my trip and barely think about work in the two weeks I was in Peru, coming home and starting this job feels a little too much like sitting in the back of the wrong taxi at four in the morning with no idea where it’s heading.

Thanks to great mentorship from my former editors Lyonel Doherty and Richard McGuire, at least this time I don’t feel like my life’s at risk, and that’s a relief.