For new year I drove all the way to Cusco from Lima with my wife. It was my first road trip in Peru since my return last year. It was as if I was coming home. Driving is fun again.

They call it tren macho for a reason. The locals say it is like a man on a binge, he leaves when he wants and arrives when he can. And on this day, he couldn’t, so here I was heading back to where I had started my day.

The next day I didn’t know what to expect. Would I make it to Huancavelica on the other end of the line? Juan Lazaro, fare inspector and a 34-year veteran of this train tells me not to worry. “Today we will make it. Last night I had a good dream,” he said without a hint of doubt on his voice. I sure hoped so.

Traveling by train is something else. It is an experience made up of the sounds of a roaring engine, a screeching track and a steel colossus moving through the mountains of central Peru. What could be better than that? And there are also the food vendors. A fellow passenger told me that back in the day each station was known for a specialty item. Izcuchaca for chicharrón (fried pork), Cáceres (also called Mejorada) for its lamb soup, Tellería for its prickly pears, Yauli for its potatoes with cheese and Acoria for its corn and wheat buns. There were not as many food vendors as my stomach had hoped. The train recently returned to service after a 5-year hiatus and ridership is yet to reach the levels of previous years.

That day we reached Huancavelica after dealing with two small landslides on the track that added an extra adventure to the trip. Both were shoveled clean in about an hour by the train’s maintenance crew.

I no longer think of tren macho as a wild male on a binge. Maybe it was one a long time ago, during the days of its youth. The train’s nearly Japanese punctuality, its assigned seats and overall impeccable service (for being a state-run train of course) made me think of it more as a well-mannered and mature gentleman. A gentleman that departs on time and arrives when the unforgivable weather of the Andes allows.

More photos coming up in a few weeks.

Ella era la señora fuerte, la de brazos musculosos y ágil paso que venía a visitarnos una vez al año. Mi madre siempre trató de retenerla algunos días más con nosotros en Lima. “Tengo que regresar a mi chacra,” ella respondía. Y regresaba presurosa a su mundo lejos en la selva.

Se llama Natividad. Abuelita Nati le digo a pesar de que no es la típica abuelita. Esa que te llena de abrazos, besos y te prepara dulces. Ella es la mujer que empezó a trabajar desde muy joven y continúa hasta hoy a sus 84 años. Lo hace no tanto porque lo necesite si no porque le gusta.

Ya no es más la señora fuerte. La fui a visitar hace algunas semanas y al abrazarla sentí sus huesos. Sentí tristeza. Pero al verla caminar en su chacra sonreí de nuevo. Entre sus plantas de café ella se transforma. Los mosquitos no le pican, el calor no le molesta, sus delgados brazos no se cansan y sus ojos brillan más que nunca.

Para mi ella es un ejemplo de dedicación y perseverancia. Ella es testimonio de que cuando queremos algo con todo el corazón, no hay nada que nos detenga. Ni la edad – ni el tiempo.

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She was the strong woman, the one with muscular arms and nimble steps that came to visit once a year. My mother always tried to keep her with us a few more days in Lima. “I have to return to the farm,” she would say. And she hurried back to her world far away in the jungle.

Her name is Natividad. Grandma Nati to me, though she is not your typical grandma, the one that hugs and kisses you and prepares you sweets. She is the woman who started working at a young age and continues today at 84 years old. She doesn’t work so much because she needs to but because she likes it. She knows nothing else.

But she is no longer the strong woman I remember. I felt her bones as I hugged her on a visit a few weeks ago. I felt sad. But when I saw her walking on the farm, I smiled again. Among her coffee plants, she transformed into the woman I remembered. The mosquitoes do not bite her. Heat does not bother her. Her thin arms do not tire and her eyes shine brighter than ever.

To me she is an example of dedication and perseverance. She is proof that when we want something with all our hearts, nothing will stop us. Not age – or time.

Video by Oscar Durand and Elie Gardner