We woke up to alarms that rang too soon. Lethargically, we stuffed our clothes into luggage and barely brushed our teeth before hopping into a taxi.

Or, should I say, four taxis?

The night before, Dad pre-paid for two taxis to pick us up the following morning. At the time, such forethought was engendered by fear. We worried that our bus to Ica would leave without us aboard.

Underestimating the time it took for us to get out of bed, clear the sleepy from our heads and pack up our bags, two taxis came and went.

Although we hardly blamed them, considering this was their livelihood, Dad's frustration needed no translation.

Our patient concierge called us two more taxis and we sped through Lima, headed for Cruz del Sur.

We arrived with fifteen minutes to spare; long enough to use the lavatory and check in our bloated bags.

Once we passed security, or the handheld metal detector, my family was pleasantly surprised by our accommodations.

Cruz del Sur is a reputable, bus company that travels throughout Peru and the rest of South America. Initially, their double decker buses worried my siblings who'd read chilling news stories about overturned buses on mountain roads.

However, for five extra American dollars each, I booked the VIP seats. Our plush armchairs reminded me of Lazy Boys, capable of reclining all the way back with leg room out the wazoo!

Throughout our five hour bus ride from Lima to Ica, my family watched blockbuster movies on their chairs' personal screens. As for me, I read one of the six books that I had brought with me.

Yes, there were six physical books in my backpack. No Kindle or NOOK for me! I love the smell of books and the satisfying flip of inky pages.

Will I have back issues due to carting six, hefty tomes on my back for a week? Probably, but we spent so many hours in travel that I say the end justifies the means.

Also, staring at a screen all day isn't good for your eyes. I bet that you are already squinting at this screen. Don't worry, glasses can be trendy.

Occasionally, we were offered snacks, Inca Kola or coffee. Essentially, they treated us as if we were in first class on an airplane. So the trip might've been five hours, but my family and I could not complain.

Our VIP status reminded us how wealthy we are. The American dollar is worth 3 Peruvian soles. For roughly 20 bucks each, my family and I could easily swing VIP seating.

I felt a little guilty. I was raised by the mantra "Sharing is caring." Even though I knew this was my vacation, I wanted to deny myself the luxury and offer my seat to someone for whom it might be out of reach.

I wished that I could return to the ticket counter and check-in my privilege.

Honestly, I was uncomfortable in my skin during various moments. Though I am eternally grateful for the bountiful blessings that enabled my family to experience all that we did, I could not turn a blind eye to the poverty that abutted and intersected with the wealthy.

Back home, I do not feel very rich. Yet, watching the Peruvian countryside blur from my VIP seat, I felt a widening disparity.

Head against the glass, I lamented ever feeling dissatisfied with my life's lot. How self-absorbed and thankless could I possibly be?

Gustav Flaubert once said, "Travel makes one modest. You see what a tiny place you occupy in this world."

The world is big and I am small by comparison. However, my life matters, as does each life I encounter. Wrapping my head around that concept might have been a bit much to take on during vacation, but there I was listening to my sister's playlist; staring at mountainous deserts receding as quickly as they came; pondering my place, a transient reality, in the wake of all time, an advancing tyrant.

Once our bus arrived at the Ica station, two taxis shuttled us to our Gran Hotel. Famished we dropped off our bags and went in search of sustenance.

Don Fernando's was recommended by the receptionist. We watched the World Cup while scarfing down rice sprinkled with chicken, sausage and plantains.

My IPhone

At the meal's end, my family bought me a decadent slice of flan and sang 'Happy Birthday.' Today marked a new decade, my twenties.

'A new decade and a new me' may sound cliché, but don't we all crave a fresh start? Rather than viewing the celebration as the end of my teens, I face my twenties with hope for the unexpected adventures that life so often serves me.

For instance, next on our agenda was dune buggies and sand surfing on Huacachina's sand dunes. On my last trip to Peru, I relished this fun excursion with my mission team. Now I was excited to share the dunes with my family.

Huacachina is an oasis surrounded by sand dunes as tall as mountains. Strapped into dune buggy, we awaited our adventure.

My siblings spent our tour's first minutes faking British accents in a sorry attempt to convince the other members of our group that they were truly from jolly, old England.

Then, one of the younger members of our group turned around, waved his go-pro at them, and smiled good-naturedly. "Your accents are pretty good, mates."

I died laughing! Finally, my siblings were caught in the act. Before we left for this trip, I'd given my family a talk about cultural awareness so any embarrassments from their poor impersonations served them right.

The rest of our adventure went with fewer social blunders. My Mom befriended a nice man from Germany and a couple from Holland.

Our dune buggy's limits were definitely tested. At reckless speeds our driver charged the dunes and then we faced stomach-turning drops that Six Flags engineers artificially.

Much to Dad's satisfaction, there were numerous picture taking opportunities.

My IPhone

We were handed sand boards atop a particularly steep dune. Laying on our stomachs with legs spread to serve as brakes, we were pushed over the edge.

Let me explain, there is snow and then there is sand. Got it? Great!

Next, we were encouraged to try riding down a smaller slope standing up. With zero expectation of success, I counted to three and WEEE! I MADE IT!

My IPhone

I am klutzy on concrete sidewalks. I am uncoordinated on icy slopes. I am capable on sand. So there, if you wish to give it a go, then take courage, even I can do it!

As the sun began to set, I walked up and surfed down again. I didn't want the magic of unforeseen athleticism to end!

Before the sun completely set, my family and I took pictures AGAIN. We are picture-crazy, I have long since accepted and learned to appreciate this.

Hilariously, my sister pretended to choke my Dad using the Force in front of the sunset's purple sky. We did think that the dunes reminded us of Tatooine. George Lucas would've been proud!

We finished our adventure and took a taxis to the "mall" in Ica. Therein my Mom found her oasis- Starbucks.

Caffeinated, we returned to Gran Hotel to sleep. Only true Peruvians could drink black coffee and then conk out. I thought, now, we were native!

The next morning we returned to the Ica bus station. Our next destination was Nazca.

For reasons still unknown, the ancient Inka created figures in the sandy ground and mountains of Nazca. Many believe the symbols directly correlate with their deities, but the mysteries of the Nazca lines are shrouded in antiquity.

We took a private, puddle-jumper with AeroParacas to see the Nazca lines from the sky. My family and I had never been in such a tiny aircraft so we each took Dramamine.

The lines were INCREDIBLE! Each figure was so proportionately designed and larger than life that I marveled at the Inka's ingenuity.

I also mused, what can we build that will last for thousands of years? What do we have now that will someday be ancient history?

Safely landed, we returned to the bus station. Our day's final destination was Paracas, a coastal city.

More on our day of rest in Paracas coming next!