The medicine man didn't speak for a while. Neither did Gary Friday. He was entranced by the beauty of this region. He felt bitter about the progressive americanization of a country he had once loved escaping to. It was more convenient now. There were trains up to tourist sights that used to be attainable by hard core trekking or uneasy bus trips. He even noticed that his old favorite Cafe in Cusco, ayullo de cusco, had been replaced by starbucks. Was it selfish of him to want a place to escape to? He wondered what the medicine man thought about it.
Several minutes went by and there was a silent hush between Gary and the medicine man. Then the medicine man stopped in front of a small patch nicandra physalodes, or 'apple of peru' flowers. He sniffed one of them. Then he looked up at Gary.
'Your people have created a lot of change for us,' he said, as if reading Gary's mind. Gary nodded silently. He had nothing to add. He just wanted to listen to this man. 'When I was a young man, your people began to come here looking for wisdom. Some of them found what they were looking for, and some of them didn't.' He paused for a second, and gazed across the mountains. 'There has been damage done. But only a certain amount of damage. Our people will persevere. These mountains, too, will survive.'
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