If we were to sum up our eight-day/seven-night cruise in the Galapagos Islands we might use these three words: Exhilirating. Exciting. Enchanting. (Actually add a fourth word to that list: Exhausting.)

To really see anything of the islands, you have to book yourself a boat. On a yacht, you can take in island after uninhabited island, seeing what you can of one during the day, and then sailing to another while you sleep. The only way to really experience the Galapagos is to book a cruise.

The view outside the window all the way through Peru had been an endless expanse of barren scrub interrupted only by the occasional ten-foot pile of garbage. In Ecuador, it was suddenly absolutely beautiful, mile after mile of green rolling hills, craggy mountains and spetacular canyons.

Tim and I have been gathering data on South American toilets for five months now and we have a lot to share. But given my close relationship with them, I feel some of this information needs to be shared sooner rather than later. Not because I want to complain, of course, but for the sake of all those travelers who come behind (so to speak).

Machu Picchu had, of course, been one of the anchors of our trip from day one. We wanted to see Angkor Wat in Cambodia. We wanted to take a balloon ride over the fairy chimneys in Cappadocia, Turkey. We wanted to tour the Galapagos Islands. And we wanted to behold the lost city of the Incas, glorious Machu Picchu.