No, I’m not in Peru. It’s much worse than that: my daughter is in Peru. At least as far as my wife and I can tell, she is in Peru.

It’s hard to know what your adult children are up to. It was hard to keep up with what they were doing before they became adults. The difference now is that you won’t get hauled into court because of their actions. That’s nice. Still, we usually take an active interest in what our children are doing.

In order to remain sane, it helps to adopt a fatalistic attitude, even if it’s just superficial. For example, when my wife looks at me wild-eyed and says our daughter is surfing the shark-infested coast of Australia, I calm her down with our standard adage: “Well, what can you do? If she’s eaten, she’s eaten.”

Helping to scale back our anxiety, we know that she is not traveling alone. She and her beloved, who for the purposes of this story we will call Marty, planned this South American adventure-vacation far in advance. They told us about it, both adding to and subtracting from our uneasiness.

I asked the girl to allow us to track her location via her cellphone. We were able to track their progress only from their home to the airport. Hours later they appeared in the big Peruvian city of Costco. My wife reminded me that Costco is where we buy our 50-pound bags of popcorn and that Cusco is the big city in Peru.

All was fine for a day but then we endured five days of the tracking software informing us that our daughter is “offline.” This would be the time that they planned to spend at Machu Picchu.

Machu Picchu: lost city of the Incas. Except that the city is not lost, it’s right there. It’s the Inca residents who were lost some time ago. And if the city can lose all its inhabitants, it would have no trouble losing a tourist couple now and again. Machu Picchu might be overrun by tourists but cellphone towers and Wi-Fi hotspots have been kept at bay, so there is no word.

Finally, we got an attempted video call but it’s from Peru, where hot showers are as hard to come by as Wi-Fi bandwidth. We settle for a spotty, audio-only call where we are happy to hear only 65 percent of what our daughter is saying, never mind the delay and pitch changes in her voice.

Yes, they have returned to Cusco. During their time away, they climbed to the top of (garbled) which has 1,200 steps. They got up at 4 a.m. to be the first in line so that they could sprint up the stairs and get to the pinnacle before the peloton caught up. It was the only way to get photos without the Disneyland crowds.

They hiked one of those trip-and-you-fall-1,000-feet trails and the daughter developed altitude sickness with nausea, whole-body aches and hallucinations so they had to put her on a hearse (horse?) to get her down. It appeared to her that all the horses there are as small as donkeys although she is not sure if the horse was extra small or if everything else was extra-large. Such is altitude sickness. “Of course, we’re having a great, great time,” she reported. Such is youth.

The wife warns the daughter not to be taking any dangerous “selfies” as she has just read an article.… The girl reassures the mother that their guide warned them about overextending themselves as he has already lost half a dozen of his clients to lethal selfies. Mother is only partially relieved.

They are now at their traveler’s hostile where they had to climb 148 stairs, go through a kitchen, some other person’s bedroom and a janitorial closet to get to their room. Marty received a robust 220-volt shock in the shower when his head contacted the shower head. The near electrocution could be blamed on Marty’s lack of attention as they discovered a note written in marker pen by the shower head that plainly stated, “Do not touch shower head.” The electrical system in general is questionable: the room lights flicker — and that’s when the lights are turned off.

As parents we are so glad they are done with Peru. It was a harrowing experience for us.

Tomorrow they are getting on a train (plane?) — and heading for Bolivia.