100 Days in South America

Changes

2008-07-28T23:41:00.000-07:00

July 28th 2008

"I don't believe it's true what they say that as you
travel you become a different person. What happens is
that you grow lighter - you shed your obligations and
your past just as you reduce everything you possess to
the few items you need for your luggage".
Antonio Munoz Molina (from Sepharad)

A very wise god mother of mine shared this quote as something for me to think about as i headed off to South America.

I heard another quote during my travels that was something along the lines of: 'you haven't started traveling until you have left behind your past and are walking in your new life'.

I understand how over time during a travel one can get to a point of just continuing to walk. I thought about it but my grip with what I left behind was too strong.

I arrived home after having no fixed address and living out of a small bag for 100 days:

I notice the little things in the Western World that I now appreciate. The toilet paper business, the hot water, the drinkable tap water, the sewer systems, the proper roofs, the paved roads, the cleaner and more abundant everything.

I have seen real poverty and I have finally come to terms with my internal confusion or guilt about sporting affluence. I know that most cultures are in the process of figuring out how to become westernized. While I may have a problem with this trend; I have to appreciate where I come from and live my life as I know it with pride.

I notice the how easy it is for me to get back into the rhythm of over consuming (food, drink, water, heat, energy, clothes.....the list goes on).

I notice how complicated life can be in Canada, not because it is complicated to live in Canada, but because I make it complicated.

How will I make my life less complicated?

The three tenets of my life: Balance, Mastery, and Oneness (dreamed up in my university days).

I strive to find balance in life through the mastery of those things that bring to me a sense of oneness. I have been unbalanced for quite some time as I spent the past 10 years searching for wealth. I have made some good investments and some very bad. I am alive. While money allows me to be who I am in the outside world, I strive to find a balance between positive income and mastering those crafts that bring me a state of internal oneness.

I will do more pottery and turning. I will play soccer for the love. I will do those things I always wanted to do. I will stretch and drink water. I will work for myself and offer those around me a better experience. I will live this short life like it is a celebration of balance, mastery, and oneness. What I put out will be received.

Home to Vancouver

2008-07-28T23:27:00.000-07:00

July 15th 2008

I awoke early and made my way to the airport. Reflecting on my trip during the flights: I am happy with what I accomplished in the time I was away.

I need to ask myself, if i did it again, could I have done it better? Well, the answer is "no". However, I do have a list of places I would like to go to or visit. Of course there are places I wished I had gone to but in the end, I can't see everything and one needs these desires in order to keep the spirit alive.

Some of the places off hand I would have like to go to are: Crystal Beach (Northern Colombia), Vultures in Coca (Peru), San Blas Islands (Panama), Bocas del Toro (Panama near Costa Rica), and San Andreas Island (Colombia?)........

These are all mostly paradise like settings but the truth is, when you hang out at one, you don't appreciate the next one as much as the first one. There is something about relative experiences that makes the 2 week vacation from the office in paradise more valuable than visiting another island after you have been taking in the area. My point is that I should come back after I have been away for a while.

I have had a lot of experiences in the past 3.5 months. Almost too many. I need to decompress and reflect on what I just did. The time went fast and I have changed. But how exactly have I changed?

Aqua Green Lakes and Coffee Beans

2008-07-28T23:22:00.000-07:00

July 14th 2008

Volcan Poas was 30 KM up the mountain slopes and I was instructed to get there early before the 10 AM clouds enveloped the entire mountain. In theory this would eliminate the view of the sulfur green crater lake from the vantage point and make the journey pointless.

I arrived 20 minutes after the parked opened and hiked up to the viewing area. It was completely clouded over. Having made all that effort to get there, I decided I might as well go on the 3 KM nature walk. It was quite nice and just near the end as I was lamenting about how it is only natural for my good luck to run out, alas, the sun was shining bright and the sky was blue.

I quickly ran back to the viewing area and for about 15 minutes, there were opportunities to see the prized possession. As there were now many many viewers cheering at the display, we were able to get pictures of the aqua-green lake with a live smoking spout of sulphorous gas enveloping the air.

After I was happy with my photos, I left the Volcano and headed towards Doka Estates for 'The Real Coffee Tour'. I took a tour of the coffee harvesting and roasting facilities and ended up in a tasting room where I could purchase some of the chocolates, roasted beans, liquors, and various other souvenirs. I headed towards my hotel and got ready for my early flight back to Vancouver in the morning.

I have a lot of evaluating to do while I strip and re-pack my bags. Also, today is the first day of my online pre-residency for my masters program and I better start getting back into reality.

Nosara Soccer League

2008-07-28T23:17:00.000-07:00

July 13th 2008

I woke up very early after a less than glamorous sleep in the reclined seat of the Suzuki Jeep. With the beach at my door step, I walked into the front yard and embarked on a 3 hour adventure. Along the journey I spotted many interesting shells, climbed around to the rock cliffs hiding the next cove, stumbled upon some washed up sea creatures, and ate desayuno consisting of fresh coconut milk and the silky meat found inside. I walked up to at local couple scavenging the meat and milk from fallen yellow coconuts at the lining beach grove. The machete man hacking away the outer casings of the coconuts with extreme precision quickly offered me a large jug full of milk: "quieres"? I gratefully accepted and left a few minutes later with a freshly carved coconut for breakfast.

I drove towards the next town 8 km away in search of the Ridley Turtle Reserve. On the way, I was blocked by a river that looked a little bit challenging to cross, even for my super charged 4x4 (this thing is hardly better than a Chevette in these conditions). I got out of the Jeep to asses the situation; a good indication was the man and woman scrambling out of their Pathfinder while their car was stuck in 3 feet of muddy red river water. After consulting the local gringos who were shocked at getting 'swept away' with the current, I decided not to bother (although the two local Ticos helping the couple insisted I could make it.

I drove back towards the town and spotted a local soccer match about to get under way. I jumped out of the Jeep and quickly asked if I could play. I sat out for the first 20 minutes and was eventually subbed in. I slowly helped my team of local Ticos recover from a 3-1 deficit against an American religious summer camp team boasting some nifty players. The game ended and I was expected to play in the next game against a younger and more fiery local Tico side. Some of the American young guns joined our side and the next game began. As negotiated, I retired after the first half exhausted and mindful of slowly getting back into shape for the upcoming season.

Back in town, I negotiated with a moto-taxi to drive me to the next town over the passenger bridge to the Ridley Turtle Reserve. Unfortunately, it is only possible to view the mating during the night and I couldn't be bothered to wait around all day and re-negotiate for another muddy dirt bike ride to the reserve.

It was now really overcast and with no sun in the midst, I headed towards Alajulea for an early morning visit to Volcan Poas.

Poet Turned Novelist

2008-07-28T23:09:00.000-07:00

July 12th 2008

Yoga this morning was great. Our meditations opened and closed a set of more advanced moves including hand stands, head stands, and back stands. I went back to the camp site to finish off the last couple chapters of Fugitive Pieces and managed to pack up my stuff for a 2:30 PM departure towards the Northern beaches.

I took the 4x4 Jeep up the short cut back roads which ended up taking longer than the paved route. I changed a flat tire and got lost along the route. I was about to give up with the fear that I was soon going to get stuck in one of these rivers I had to keep crossing.

In the end, I made it to Nosara's Playa Guiones and camped in the Jeep for the night.

Book Report - Fugitive Pieces: Anne Michaels' writing is beautifully poetic; she has the ability to evoke emotions in you as if you are the character as she paints with exquisite detail each wonderfully thought out, well-researched, and ingeniously linked episode throughout time. Jakob Beer's life moves from witnessing the loss of his family during the horrifying holocaust to a destitute Greek island and then Toronto, Canada where he is brought up by Athos, his savior. The book moves through generations of marriage and mishaps while offering a rendition of psychological repercussions associated with experiencing horror sights, hiding, and consistently seeking freedom. A touching masterpiece and recommended read for anyone seeking compassion. I will read her other book, poetry, and watch the movie. However, I fear the movie will pail in comparison to the scenery that the author influenced in my imagination.

Vacation From Vacation: Do Nothing Day

2008-07-28T23:08:00.000-07:00

July 11th 2008

I woke up today with a wet back from all the rain during the night. I hung everything to dry in the sun and set the day off with intentions of finishing my book. I soon got the urge to hit the waves again. As a couple locals were heading out, I paused my reading and grabbed a board to join them. This time, I made it out far enough to sit on the surf board and wait for the perfect waves (just past the 'area of suction' where the crests whip the backwash creating a powerful current that traps rookies like me). I managed to catch a wave or two but didn't stand up. I tried to muscle my way up but was tossed from the height of the 6 foot waves.

I retired back to my hammock after having overturned my fear of waves and read a bit more. When the low-tide hit, I got up from the hammock and set off on a 45 minute jog through the heavy sand. I started off sluggish as my legs were experiencing DOMS from the run 2 days before, but I soon warmed up under the hot sun.

I went back out for another round of surfing noticing that slowly but surely I am improving each time. I read a little bit more from the hammock before I set out for dinner at a typical local restaurant serving chicken and rice 'casados'. I had an early night with the anticipation of 9 AM yoga for the morning.

Montezuma's Boca Island Reserve

2008-07-28T23:05:00.000-07:00

July 10th 2008

Today I made my way back to Montezuma and entered the oldest wildlife and forest reserve in Costa Rica: Boca Reserve.

I marched up hill and down 4.5 KM of trails to a glorious beach! On the way there are many different native tree species to observe amongst a thick canopy draped over running streams. The muddy trail surprised me with a pair of large ultra-poisonous toads. There I was carefully sneaking my camera inches away from their heads, evoking interesting frog sounds and a few labored hops, to only find out later that the poison in these frogs is powerful enough to kill a 90 pound mammal (internal dialog: "you idiot, always trying to get a National Geographic photo, eh!").

I also saw what appeared to be a skunk rolled up into a ball in the middle of the walkway. Hesitant to jump over the little guy, I threw a twig at it to scare it away. That didn't work; the critter was playing dead and the "turtle position" was in full effect. I backed up and employed my impeccable 3-step long jump technique to get above and beyond. My thumping yet graceful justin-like landing didn't even stir this guy - it must be some sort of hairy armadillo or something.

At the beach the tide was going out, so I traversed North to a rocky outcrop where I sat and enjoyed my lunch snacks while watching the waves reflect the beaming sun before they crashed the populated shores full of Pelicans. Across from where I sat was Island Boca, home of the largest population of Brown-Footed Boobies (related to the Galapagos' famous Blue Footed Boobies). Unfortunately, I wasn't able to see any of these up close and personal.

I hiked the 4.5 km back to the Jeep and made it back to Mal Pais in time for a 4PM Yoga class. A few upward dog poses and a hand stand later I was oozing with peace and tranquility during my walk back to the camp along the sunny beach. The rest of the day involved reading Fugitive Pieces from the hammock amongst playful kids and local surfers catching the afternoon breaks.

Roca Mar Surfing Star

2008-07-28T23:04:00.001-07:00

July 9th 2008

These waves are very nasty. I literally "ate shit" 5 times before I actually made it to the bottom of the breaks. I lie, I turned around after fighting for half an hour to get to where I should have been. I caught a few little waves back to shore for fun but that was that. My confidence is pretty low after being tossed like a rag doll for longer than I could hold my breath and getting stuck between the shore and the snapping wave crests (I just kept getting pulled back in). Mother nature just kicked my ass.

The rest of the day was quite tranquil. Reading from my hammock, front row views of surfers, a barefoot beach jog, more reading, a walk to some tide pools, and more reading.

The highlight of the day was the surfer who brought his board back in 3 pieces. I was watching this guy rip it up out there and was surprised to see his board busted up. Goes to show what can happen if you make a wrong move. I think I will head up north in a couple days to get some tamer waves; if pro's are going down, I don't really stand a chance face-to-face with the 5 foot behemoth waves (For me it will be say face-to-sand).

Montezuma Sunrise

2008-07-11T13:26:00.001-07:00

July 8th 2008

Well, my sleep was nothing to write home about but the sunrise was something else. I am not sure why it happened but I awoke 3 minutes before the sun rose over the horizon. What a treat. I tried to fall asleep again but settled for a morning drive towards Mal Pais.

I used my 4x4 to cross the 3 little rivers along the way (getting my moneys worth i tell ya!) and spotted some interesting birds and wildlife. (side note:I am not sure why it was called "Bad Country" because it looks pretty nice here). I was the first person at the beach so I tried to fall asleep while the sun tried to poke through the clouds. I didn't sleep but the sun did poke through.

I changed beaches for the afternoon and got myself involved in a 3-on-3 beach soccer game with some locals before hitting up the water for some surf. I am not very experienced so I only got up on the long board twice but I did manage to break a fin and have to pay 10 bucks. I sat in the sun reading for the rest of the afternoon.

I drove along the strip three or four times undecided of where and what I was doing (quite a liberating feeling). Mostly, I was taking in the small town feel and people watching. I noticed a nice looking location offering beach front cabinas from a distance and headed down the long road. It turns out i inadvertently found paradise! A hush hush campsite Roca Mar lies down a road at the end of Playa Santa Teresa. The sign I saw turned out to be for a different set of cabinas. The locals staying here asked how i found it and explained "you pretty much can't find it better than this".

There is ridiculous surfing right out front of where I now have pitched a tent on the beautiful sand and set up my hammock. There are a bunch of little kids with their families who all speak fluent Spanish as well as English (ex-pat Americans bringing up families in Costa Rica).

I think I am going to stay here for a few days and soak up some rays, hit up some surf, and finish this brilliant book I am reading.

The "Rich Coast": Montezuma, Nicoya Peninsula

2008-07-11T13:23:00.001-07:00

July 7th 2008

After an interesting walk-through of the border crossing (I could have smuggled whatever I wanted to), I caught a direct bus to San Jose. I looked at the Mercedes Benz on the outside and though I was in for a treat; not the case. Leave it up to MB to figure out how to fit as many people into a bus as possible. I measured less than 8 inches of knee space between the edge of my seat and the seat in front. By far, the least comfortable bus ride of the last 3 months (but with the most fancily branded bus).

I was told by everybody under the sun to get out of San Jose, ASAP. I spotted a National Car Rental agency and hooked up a 4x4 Suzuki Jeep instantaneously. My rate wasn't very good, but you sometimes pay to play when you need results. I was headed straight for the Nicoya Peninsula; if I could just figure out which highway I am meant to take! Finally, I was on the right course and landed a spot on the final ferry for the nigh (11PM). I snoozed in the car during the 1.5 hour ferry ride but was still tired driving the bumpy 41 KM to Montezuma.

I found a nice little pull away beside Montezuma beach and reclined my seat with the attitude of getting the most for my money.

Miami of the South's, Panama Canal

2008-07-11T12:45:00.000-07:00

July 6th 2008

Today I am finally feeling better after my little bout of illness. I was happy to meet 4 people in my hostel last night that just finished the trek to The Lost City the day before me but were in worse shape. Not only did some people get a fever in the group but also a weird eye infection kind of like "Pink Eye" was passed around.

I woke up early to get to the airport for my flight, farewell Colombia and more significantly, farewell South America.

Afterwarding off annoying cab drivers trying to harge way too much, I was finally picked up by a Catholic driver named Omar who was quite relaxed and thanked the sky quite often. I negotiated with him to get a private tour of Panama City for 4 hours and to get dropped off at the bus station for $52 USD. This involved driving around Panama to see: The Old City, Casca Viejo district, underneath the bridge, the causeway, and The Panama Canal (one of Central America's wonders).

Strangely, I have this overwhelming feeling that just by crossing from Colombia to Panama I warped from 3rd world to 2nd world. My only explanation is the closer proximity to the USA. The most obvious example I can give to explain what I mean is the selection in stores of chocolate bars, chips, gatorade, etc. Don't get me wrong, a lot of stuff is pretty run down still but Panama City isn't dubbed Miami of the South for no reason.

I drove by the early stages of Donald Trump's monstrosity of a building under construction. This is only a small part of the story; sky scrapers fill the entire horizon of the downtown and many more are underway. A lot of US retirees and other wealth seems to filter into Panama.

The city is quite nice with old ruins spread throughout the city parks. It is really hard to imagine but is best described as new houses, roads, and buildings being built on what was once a large fortress spanning many, many blocks. The result is a normal looking city with parks but old ruins and old church remains spread throughout.

I never really grasped what the Panama Canal was all about until I visited it. I knew it connected the Pacific Ocean to the Caribbean side but I didn't realize they dammed up half the country and cut through the earth to create a fake lake for large vessels to line up between the 3 stages of "locks".

The locks pretty much work like elevators for boats strategically filling up and emptying to bring the boats up 26 feet above see level (the level of the fake lake) and then back down when they have crossed to the other side. I also didn't realize that the average cost for these large freighters to pass is $30,000 USD per ship. On the day, I was lucky to see the Miraflores Lock in action as 5 "small" yachts were lowered to the Pacific side.

Satisfied with my crash course of Panama City, I headed for my 8 hour bus ride to the Costa Rican border. I arrived at 11PM and wasn't able to pass. I crashed at a local hotel for $15 USD.

The Lost City: Ciudad Perdida

2008-07-05T08:15:00.001-07:00

June 30th - July 3rd

I managed to get a great deal for my 4 day trek at $160 USD by riding off the effort of my Israeli dive friend (usually 6 days and $240).

The catch was that my group consisted of 9 Israelis and 2 Brits (guess who I will likely hang out with?). We were picked up from our hostel an piled into the back of a pick-up with a canopy. Facing the opposite way to the driver and able only to see straight out of the canopy, I heard screeching, I saw tire smoke, and prayed that the 18-wheel semi-truck that we were overtaking stopped in time for us to live (he decided to overtake at the same time)............We arrived to 2 old beaten up Jeep 4x4s that packed the 12 trekkers, 2 guides and 2 drivers in for an uncomfortable 2 hours up into the mountains (jungle territory).

The trek was insane! Bumping 6 days into 4 meant that the hiking per day was doubled to 10 KM per day. That doesn't sound too bad but when you factor in that there are torrential down-pours, thunder and lightning, clay trails, multiple high ascents and steep descents, slippery rock slopes, large rivers to cross, and fallen trees, it is quite difficult!

Not to mention the weed fields, cocaine factory, indigenous Indians, coffee trees, banana trees, pineapple trees, and paramilitaries guarding the territory from guerrillas (FARC). The scenery is breathtaking.

I felt as if I was in a movie the whole time (several different movies to be exact ranging from Rambo to The Lord of the Rings). My two British friends Will and Will provided great banter and we lead the pack by hours each day. I can truly say that the Lost City really feels as if it is lost. Out of nowhere, you finally cross the river again (waist high when it is low) and there are these steep steps (1200) that lead up to the ruins.

You really feel like you have accomplished something upon arrival. We slept in the cabana at Ciudad Perdida and woke up the next morning for a 3 hour tour before heading back.

The Will's and I were up and at it well before the rest of the crew (as per usual) so we could negotiate with the paramilitaries for photos (with their guns) and other memorabilia. I managed to trade my $1 fake Swiss Army knife for a neklace and some machine gun photos, pay $20 for a contraguerilla shirt, and swap my 3 month old surely-by-now-bed-bug-infested sleeping bag for another t-shirt. I helped Will trade his real Swiss army knife for much of the similiar.

Our group caught up with us and our tour commenced. Truly some of this lost city is still underneath the forest. I imagine in 15 - 20 years that this will be built up just like Machu Picchu so i am glad to see it while it is in its raw state.

The trek back was rather memorable. With crashing thunder and bright lightning, the daily torrential down pours started harder than ever before. The mostly downward journey turned into a slip and slide extravaganza. The v-shaped trails which coupled as drainage
routes for the rain meant we were ankle high in water the whole last day. When we reached the clay parts, everyone slipped and fell while the Will's and I started to run down jumping from side bank to bank embracing the insanity. Ahead of the group by 30 minutes, the bottom looked much different than it did on the first day. We traveled to where we thought we should go, but turned back uncertain about our trail.

At this time, the rain was coming down even harder and the thunder was even louder. We thought to ourselves, this is when we get kidnapped by the FARC and held for ransom.

The river was 4 time as big a usual and completely orange (from all the mountain wash). We soon met up with the group and found out we were headed in the correct direction. The difference was, this time we were forced to cross the river 3 more times because it had grown so much.

Back at the starting point, we found out the jeeps could not make it across the river. We had to hike for 15 more minutes, cross the river again, and finally cram into a different jeep (all 12 of us with the 2 guides sitting on the roof!). Finally, we arrived back into town and dispersed to our seperate hostels.

I was feeling ill all day and had a fever at one point. Hesitant to keep drinking the dirty river water but hiking hard all day contributed to what I think is dehydration sickness. I have never had it before but it sucks! I am going to have to take the next day or two lightly before I fly into Panama City.

From Panama I will make my way up to Costa Rica for my last 10 days.

Advanced Diving Days

2008-07-05T07:47:00.001-07:00

June 27th - June 29th 2008

I was a little rusty after not scuba diving for 5 years but I picked it up pretty quick. It was like riding a bicycle they say.... I did 2 fun-dives and went down deeper than I have ever gone (67 feet). The blue water is crystal clear and warmly pleasant to swim in. The sun continues to shine and I continue to feel like a happy kid on summer vacation.

The afternoon was spent straight up chilling out after a 20 minute death run up hills in blistering heat. With dinner in mind, I walked down to the sea and sat for 30 minutes watching the local fisherman come in with their catches of the day (Carribean background music from the restaurants that line the beach front). I bartered with one guy to pay $1 USD for 2 fish. He cleaned and de-scaled them for me and sent me on my way. I bought some veggies at the corner store for $1 and went back home. I cooked them up at the hostel after I jumped into the end of a pick up soccer game for 15 minutes. The fish were delicious. Time for bed.

I woke up early, ate some boiled eggs and caught up with some email and blog business. I then re-peated my run from yesterday and tried to rehydrate myself the best I could before my afternoon dive sessions. I quickly made a dash to the nearest town (Santa Marta) that had an ATM so I could pay for my Advanced Scuba Diving course. The ride back was awesome - I accidentally flagged down a motorbike and paid $1 for a very unsafe (no helmet) ride back to Tatanga (I was flagging for a cab).

My first dive was the Deep Dive. I was very nervous about going down to 100 feet (30 Meters) but in the end, it was quite easy. Well, not that easy, decompression illnesses are a concern and I saw why as it was difficult to answer some of the math questions at that depth. Normal tasks take a little bit longer when deep beause the brain doesn't work like normal (mine never has - but that's a different story).

The second dive was a navigation dive to learn how to use a compass and trace your pathway under water. Pretty cool skill and very necessary but the dive was less interesting (just saw a couple cool looking fish).

For the rest of the night I am just chilling out. I have an 8 AM dive session tomorrow, then I watch the final of the EuroCup. For tomorrow night I do my Night Dive, which should be pretty cool to dive with fosflorescence in the dark.

I am getting really use to the tempo of this place. Everyone here is relaxed, cool, super nice - nothing like you think of when you say the word "Colombia". Best of all it is dirt cheap here for paradise-like settings. I highly recommend this gem of a place to people who get over the fear of coming to Colombia - Taganga is actually one of the safest places I have been to (as I sit outside a typical restaurant (private house with restaurant out front) on the street typing on my computer).

Last dive day: June 29th

The morning dives were good - I am mastering the technique of equalizing finally. The best spotting of the day was a Great Barracuda.

Spain deservedly won the EuroCup; I watched with a room full of internationals including some girls from Spain. Now the focus turns to World Cup 2010 in South Africa - I want to visit that one.

My night dive was somewhat nerve racking - jumping into the dark ocean off a boat and descending is probably one of my fears I didn't realize I had until I was about to jump in. In the end, it was a great experience. The life under the water completely

changes. The crabs and lobsters come out from behind the rocks, I saw 2 octopii, and the fosflorescence were illuminating each divers kick. The visibility was only 10 feet in the dark but the dive torches reliably lit the way (good thing we had a back up when my flahlight ran out of batteries). The dive was a success and i am now proudly certfied with my Advanced Diver PADI certification.

Early tomorrow I plan to go to Ciudad Perdida also know as the great 6 day trek to the Lost City.

Taganga: The Quaint Colombian Fishing Village

2008-07-05T07:37:00.000-07:00

June 26th 2008

After my 5 hour bus ride, I had my first glimpse of Taganga from the taxi. Set back in a deep cove, the town is isolated from behind with mountains. This came as a big surprise. The village itself is about 10 blocks and only 2 roads are paved. I am staying at Casa De Felipe, by far the best hostel I have stayed in recently. Satellite DirectTV, flat screen, high-speed WIFI, clean, lots of information, and only $7USD per night.

I spent the rest of the day walking around the little village admiring the beach, watching people, kicking a soccer ball with some locals, eating dinner, and watching the beautiful sunset. I organized my diving for tomorrow and I start at 8AM sharp.

I plan to stay here for 4 or 5 days. I am happy with this beginning to the end........A wise and well traveled friend of mine told me that when I find somewhere I like, stay there!

Paradise at Last!

2008-07-05T06:56:00.000-07:00

June 24th - 25th 2008

Despite the weather warnings, I woke up to blue skies. With my fingers crossed I shared a taxi to the port. This was awesome itself. There were fish stalls, mango people, corn sellers, beef skulls, and every other type of hustler you could imagine. I boarded the boat after picking up some fresh fruit for pennies and waited to leave while 20 different hustlers came to peddle their goods. The funniest buy was a 5 litre bag of mineral water but the best deal was the jersey tank top for $2.5 USD (4 mangoes at 50 cents was a good deal also).

The speed boat took us 45 minutes and we arrived at the white sand beach. IT WAS SUNNY. Not only was it sunny, the sky was blue and the ocean was green. I found what I have been waiting for. Mama Ruth took us into her beach front restaurant-tent-hammock business. I payed $1 to hang my hammock at her place and set off for a walk along the beach. After avoiding the money hungry hustlers (necklaces, snorkel gear, fruit, rum, beer, sunglasses, you name it), I found a patch of desserted beach and relaxed by stretching to take in the sun.

Back at the hammocks, I grabbed my snorkel gear and set off for the reefs. The 3 km white sandy beach seemed to be split into 2 sections. The Western White End and the Eastern Black Side. Although inter mingling was totally permitted, the boat drivers seem to have deals with the local hammock-resort owners and drop off the gringo's in their designated area. Happily, I marched through the swarms of black children and families to the coral reefs. I will say the snorkeling was boring in comparison the the Galapagos but still fun for 5 minutes (I may be forever tainted).

As I walked back to my hammock, I heard the beats start up and wondered where the party was at. A few hours later I made my way over to the fiesta. It turns out that the day was El Dia Pescadores (The Day of the Fisherman). That meant all of the locals came down to the beach to party.

I sat alone and watched as the sole white guy but soon made some friends. These local islanders were fun-loving good spirited people. One guy bought me 4 beers within the matter of 15 minutes as I sat and watched the locals grind, flirt, and party on to the carribean beats.

I snapped a few photos and headed back to my hammock to store my camera and grab some money. I payed double price for a mickey of rum ($10US) and met up with Kim-Jang and his Korean travel friend he just met up with (who I hung out with for a day but can't remember her name - I blame it on the rum).

Koreans know how to drink, let me tell you! Shot after shot, we were dancing away and mingling with the locals. One local islander started to put on a spectacle for the other partiers and kept prompting us to have dance-offs with him. As you can imagine, all the locals were watching, laughing, and generally everyone was having a great time. I will say that these people feel the music and the crazy way they dance made me feel better about my maniacal stance (for all those people who laugh at me when I am drunk-dancing). Also, it was interesting the way the girls and guys expressed what they thought of each other through dancing (very close, slow, careful, sexual but not dirty grinding-type dancing if they like; reluctancy and laughter if they don't like).

We partied until well after the beautiful sunset before heading back to the hammocks for the night. Just to give insight into the state of us: K-Jang happened to bury his camera\money pouch under the sand while he swam during the sunset, he returned without it. I said goodnight to my new friends (Mama Ruth's 11, 13, and 15 year old daughters) and we planned to wake up early to find the camera.

We found nothing but sand, however, the sunrise was quite nice. I should add the hammock sleeping may take some getting use. It was 6AM and I couldn't sleep. Instead, I played card games with the 3 girls and listened to their cute version of Spanish (sounded like southern slang mixed with Spanish). I waited for Mama Ruth to break out the corn bread for lunch but instead I had fried fish, rice, salad, and papas - delicious.

The sunburn from yesterday kept me under cover for most of the day playing cards until I caught the 3PM ferry back to Cartagena.

We bought some groceries, used the kitchen, and socialized with other travellers over some beers. Tomorrow I plan to go to Taganga to do some scuba diving (the cheapest place to do it in South America).

Cartagena Flood!

2008-07-05T06:30:00.001-07:00

June 22nd - 23rd 2008

During the last hour of my 14 hour over-night bus ride it started to down-poor really hard. The morning in Cartagena was tainted with rain (I really wanted sun) but the attitude of the children in the streets caught my attention (keep in mind my bus is driving along a street with about a foot and a half of water!).

I asked myself with a smile on my face, "why are these children so happy rolling in the rain streams, jumping up and down, throwing balls back and forth, and playing games in the rain?" It looked to me like the kids were doing rain dances with big smiles on their faces and their arms up in the air, welcoming the downpour. I was reminded of when I was a child at the farm and my mom took me and my siblings outside to do a rain dance. Trying to put 2 and 2 together, I immediately thought this must be a tradition or something stemming back from Africa (my older sister Tania was born in South Africa, where my mom and dad met and lived for a couple years).

Even though I wanted sun, I started to lighten up to the idea of embracing the dismal rain; after all, attitude is everything in life, a truism held alive by the children in the streets.

I looked at the weather forecast at Hostel Casa Vienna and it was showing rain, rain, and more rain with chances of thunder showers. I peeked at the forecast in Costa Rica and it was much of the same forecast. I decided to embrace the rain and get some sun in Vancouver when I'm back home!

I spent the day walking around the city, talking with locals, eating at the Cartagena Hard Rock Cafe (to watch Spain defeat Italy), taking photos, and sitting in the main Plaza Bolivar. I was lucky to catch a group of local dancers drum an african beat and shake their thangs like it was nobodies business. I payed them a few pesos to keep them happy and made my way back to the hostel as the night was falling.

I took some photos of the sunset along the Carribean Sea from the ancient wall (lined with canons) that protected the old city from intruders back in the days of pirates, invasions, and wars. At the hostel I booked a day trip to the Mud Volcano and called it a night.

I woke up early to head off to the Mud Volcano. This was another interesting experience! A group of 20 of us arrived an hour later to a 30 foot mountain made of mud. In the middle, there is a clay\mud bath that is the result of some gaseous spring from the earth below. About 30 people were crammed int this mud bath and each person was "mud massaged" as they entered. What a weird feeling. You could barely move in the sludge, and felt like you were floating (knees mysteriously bent with nothing below to step on). When you got out of the mud, there was a group of African ladies that took you down to the swamp and washed you off. Of course, these people were working for tips, but in the end the whole experience from entry to exit was unique.

When I arrived back at the hostel, I showered, then went for another walk into the city. I spotted the African ladies with their fruit baskets atop their heads and bought some fresh Pineapple in exchange for a photo. On my way back I picked up some dinner a the market and made plans to set off for the highly touted Playa Blanca.

Mendellin Rum But No Sun!

2008-06-29T05:21:00.001-07:00

June 20th - 21st 2008

I arrived in Mendellin at evening and found Palm Tree Hostel. It was good timing as I mingled with other travellers at the Friday Night free barbeque. I made a couple of friends who showed me pictures of their journey from North to South as we drank Mendellin Rum on the rocks.

One of the Parisian guys and my new S. Korean friend Kim-Jang went out for a night in the famed Colombian party town. We went to the Zona Rosa and shred some shots of Aguardiente with the locals, and withdrew enough information to set us up for a good night local-stylez. The next bar was also full of locals (very few gringos) but was more of a disco tech playing dance music. I must say the women here can move their hips! Colombia is much different than the other South American countries. It is very clear that african blood has passed through lineage after lineage here at different points. I expect the further north I go, the blacker the hispanics will get (closer proximity to the Carribean islands). Back to the party. We met a few locals, shared some drinks, and went to one of the parents house for some more drinks. The apartment was set on the side bank of one of the more wealthy areas of Mendellin with a great view of the city. Leaving the Parisian behind, Kim-Jang and I headed home at about 5AM for some rest.

The next day I got right up at 11AM and started my agenda for the day despite my lack of sleep. The first stop was the Museum of History and a walk around the local parks. I sat and people watched for a few minutes before I headed towards the old-fashioned Pueblito atop Cerro San Blas. On the way, I stopped into a local bar to recharge on agua while watching the first half of the Russia x Holland Eurocup match amongst a bar full of Mendellinian regulars.

I walked up the steep stairway to the Pueblito that overlooks all of Mendellin. It was very touristy but had quite a neat feel. I found a restaurant that was playing the match and ate a typical set-menu (fried fish with salad and papas). SIDE NOTE: Russia annihilated Holland in the end and are playing the most attractive football of the tournament (doesn't mean they will win but if they keep up their tempo and creativity, they could win!).

Walking around the little pueblito was quite neat, there were nice flowers llining the old buildings and little craft stores squished into tiny hole-in-the-wall spaces. i took a gander at the view, snapped a few photos, and headed towards the Zoo for a peak at the wild life here.

Mendellin zoo-keepers deserve some praise for their pratices at this zoo. The animals are given more freedom and space than other zoo's I have seen but it is still quite safe to walk around (minus the fact that the Emu's could have easily bit my face if they were as rabid as the ostriches at the Vancouver Zoo). I was fortunate enough to see 2 sets of The Great Spirit Bear paired with a mate as well as a Black Panther co-habitating with another Leopard (big black leopard doesn't mind smaller normal colored leopard).

Back at the hostal I met up with Kim-Jang and we set off for an overnight bus to the northern coastal city of Cartegena (please let there be sun!).

Closing Out Lima

2008-06-29T05:18:00.000-07:00

June 17th - June 19th 2008

I had 2 days to kill before my flight and I spent most of it watching the Eurocup. I visited the Gold Museum also, and marveled at the ancient gold pieces while learning how they use to extract gold from the rocks and eventually bang it into sheets.

Lima was just a city to me so I didn't get up to much else. I browsed a few tourist stores looking for art work but found nothing portable enough for me to purchase.

At this point of my trip, I need a major energy boost from Colombia; the engine is running on a lull right now.......Let's pray that I get some sun to recharge these batteries.

Jungle Town Pullcalpa, Peru

2008-06-27T12:23:00.000-07:00

June 13th - 16th 2008

The next day we woke up at 3PM! All three of us. We absolutely had no clue what time it was when we went to bed, so our first though was that we were drugged by the guys who followed us home. Pat and Mike missed work by accident (a.k.a they took the "day-off"). Pat and I got all our stuff together and headed for the airport to catch our flight to jungle town Iquitos.

Our flight was canceled because AeroCondor went out of business the day before. Our best option was to catch the next flight to jungle town Pullcalpa south of Iquitos.

We called a jungle guide Gustavo Paredes beforehand and were picked up at the airport. A group of hungry taxi drivers bombarded us for money but we jumped into a pair of the 3-wheeler motorbike taxis and were whisked off to Gustavo's in the night breeze. Shack-type bars were lively along the streets with Reggaeton and the like blaring behind groups of drunk night-sceners.

At Gustavo's we organized 3 days in the jungle then grabbed a hotel room for the night.

Saturday morning we jumped on the Poseidon with canoe drive Luis (Gustavo's son), the Shaman (there for the nightly jungle cleansing rituals), and Gustavo (our guide).

After an hour we stopped the boat and starting hacking a trail into the jungle with the machetes. Soon, jungle boy Luis was climbing up a tree and hacking his way to what is known as a Brown Faced 3-toed Sloth. Within minutes Pat and i took turns handling this Sloth. This was a crazy experience in itself and a great way to start the jungle tour. When we questioned taking the animal out of its habitat the answer was: it is not endangered. I digress (and admit we were drinking beers to this point which helped excite us rather than turn the focus on animal cruelty).

The very noisy and slow canoe brought us further along the Ucayali River where we stopped off at a jungle friend's house. This guy was crazy and hated gringo's. When questioned why he disliked whitey's he said it was because gringo's are the ones responsible for drugging people to stealing their organs and cut off their faces to sell on the black market. I never really understood this but it must have been a problem at one point. We collected some fruit from his "garden" and traded him for some fresh food from town. Needless to say, an interesting lifestyle for the loco jungle man who lives in a house stilted over 4 meters of water for 8 months of the year (I should mention his wife had one bad eye that looked like it was blind and was in serious need of medical attention - definitely not a part of their routine (or else she just had a really bad jungle virus)).

Further down the river, the night started to fall, the rain began, and the mosquitoes came out to play. Malaria, Dengue Fever, and Yellow Fever were our worries but we were ASSURED by our guide they were only "poquito" = very few mosquitoes. We still took our Malarone.

After we made the tent, the shaman summoned us to the boat where we were going to go through a spiritual cleansing ritual. We were given a tiny cup of boiled jungle vines (reddish in color) and soon the chanting began. It was explained that we were meant to close our eyes, concentrate, meditate, and let the sounds of the shaman guide us. Well, let me tell you. When it freshly rains in the jungle just before it gets dark, there are literally thousands of mosquitoes out to get you. Sure, we were covered from head to toe, but these ankle biters were persistent. I was able to meditate with the shaman on a few occasions and at one point he was above my head blowing straight down as to align my energy grids. The experience was definitely unusual and the songs the shaman sang to summon the healing powers from the universe still ring in my ear. Very unique, if I may add! Although the experience would have been more authentic if the mosquitoes weren't buzzing around and breaking my concentration, I truly believe the ceremony is meant to be treated like a ritual process. That is, one has to spend more than just one day meditating with the shaman. This was confirmed by Luis who I call a shaman in training; he is doing these ceremonies 3 times a week for the next 6 months (I like to call Luis a 21 year old jungle boy who was so excited after he hacked down the sloth he asked me if I thought he was "loco").

The next day involved a stroll into the local jungle village where we were offered lunch. We politely turned it down because there was unidentifiable animal claws sticking out of the soup pot. Not to mention the unsanitary conditions and the brown river water the soup was likely made with. There were a few pigs bathing in the putrid mud below the shanty wooden balcony to top the experience off. The weirdest part was the blind drunk father of the house who was asking his daughter's if they liked "gringo's" and started offering his daughter's to us like they were presents (until the 14 year old daughter told the dad in Spanish "shut-up, you're drunk, eat your food."). His reaction was a huge smile, semi-crossed eyes, followed by 1 minute of slurping soup before his next random comment: "Soy Peruano". Let's get the funk outta dodge........

We were then off to a jungle hike (machete in Gustavo's hand - this is very roughed in trails!). Our goal was to find some vines and swing along like we remember Tarzan did when we were children. We found the vines and carved out a runway. The only thing missing was a huge ravine. We mastered the best route to swing, took a few videos and set off back towards the boat.

Smacking mosquitoes for the whole trip back, Pat and I were fed up. At this point we were eaten alive and we could not bare one more night of a mosquito infested camping trip. There was a reason why we were the only gringo's in Pullcalpa this weekend, probably because everyone else read up on the town and realizes this is not the time to come.

After a small argument with Gustavo, we assured him we liked his guiding abilities and pushed the blame on the mosquitoes. Truly, jungle trekking is for the hardcore traveler who can withstand the thought of getting Malaria (or other viruses) while fending off swarms of mosquitoes and tracking clay mud everywhere. You can just never be very comfortable.

Back in town, we got a hotel room and had Gustavo's son bring us around town to a few bars for the night.

The next day we were off the the local zoo. This was definitely a highlight. I was able to see up close and personal Tapirs, Jaguars, Panthers, and Leopards (Trigillos). Also I saw a Howler Monkey, some Night Monkey's, and about 5 other species of monkey. The best part was that it was feeding time and we followed around the zoo keeper's wheel barrow full of chopped cow parts. These wild cats were going crazy and some difficult pics were taken (seriously, Pat risked his fingers when he stuck my camera into these cages while the carnivores gnawed on their meat).

With out hesitation, I made my mind up that I did not need to go further into the jungle this trip to the Tefe Reserve. Perhaps when I yearn for some more jungle in the future, I will head to Brazil's Mamiraua Reserve and the true jungle city of Manaus.

We still had one more thing to do. Our last stop was at a famous spiritual jungle artist who's works are exhibited all over the world. Juan Fernando is like a shaman except that instead of guiding people through meditative journeys he expresses himself on canvas. His work is very intricate with vibrant details you know he had to be very meticulous to achieve. I asked him how long a painting takes and what exactly he is painting. He explained that it takes up to a couple weeks and that he is painting his visions and journey during his meditations. He allowed us to take one picture of the original works (they sell for $10 - 15,000 USD), offered to sell us prints for $200 USD, but we settled for miniature postcards for $5 USD each.

Unfortunately, I missed visiting the ancient Shipibo Pottery Studio on San Fransisco Island but in consolation, there was a healthy display of pots at the hotel we stayed in.

We returned to Lima later that night and I booked a flight up to Mendellin, Colombia.

Back To Lima I Go!

2008-06-27T12:16:00.001-07:00

June 12th - 13th 2008

I currently sit in the aeropuerto in La Paz awaiting my delayed flight. I was instructed not to take the taxis in front of my hostel because they are dangerous (robberies), so I had to wait for a registered taxi my hostel ordered. Driving out of La Paz and looking down at the city lights from the highway that winds up the mountain slopes is quite something spectacular. Other thoughts; Bolivia is a very poor country and the merchandise in the city is a bargain. I recommend to anybody that wants to 'shop till they drop', head to La Paz.

The evening in Lima featured a late night on the town with Patty Peru, and the new addition Mike aka MC Jimmy Pattison at a local club (Aurea?) in the LarcoMall, Miraflores. Vodka and Red Bull were the drink of the night. A great night was had by all as we somehow worked our way through 4 x 26 ounce bottles. I remember talking Spanish to a bunch of locals and trying to dance for a bit.

We ended the night by trying to get into a Casino when it had long since closed. I also remember getting followed home by two locals trying to befriend us. Likely, the suits they were dressed in were for another reason than we suspected and it was a good instinct by the group to drunkenly depart (with hostility I may add)............

La Paz, Bolivia: The World's Highest City!

2008-06-19T17:18:00.000-07:00

June 11th 2008

I woke up early, showered again to heat myself up (this hostel is 0 degrees), dropped off my laundry and ate breakfast with Anne an Filip. We then headed towards the city center to get me a plane ticket to Cusco. After talking to a few travel agents (all offering different prices and lying about availability) I went to the Aerosur main office. Strangely enough, I was told the same story but offered an even higher fare of $258USD.

I was put onto the waiting list for the $120 seats and told to call a phone number only accessible by cell phones (wtf?).

Anne, Filip, and I explored the cities Witch Market (where the weirdest things they sell are dried LLama fetuses), Black Market (where you can get anything), the Iglesia San Fransisco (with a nice view of the city), and the outdoor plazas.

There are these peculiar men wearing balaclava's that look really scary but really just want 25 cents to polish your shoes.

La Paz is another city nestled between mountains but the buildings, outdoor markets, and bodegas (tiendas) climb all the way up the slopes. You find yourself out of breath climbing to the next street in the world's highest city (elevation 3500 M).

About my plane ticket. In the end, I was never able to get a hold of anybody with the phone number so I returned to the head office at 6PM. After a long wait, I was able to get my seat for $120. What a weird system of trying to get people to pay top dollar (lying about availability (sounds like the ticketmaster scam we have all learned to hate). I bet you there are many empty seats on the plane).

To celebrate my confirmed departure, the three of us went to a 3 star restaurant and ordered the most expensive bottle of Bolivaian red wine available, LLama steaks, and sampled their Flan and chocolate mousse for dessert.

The Llama was delicious, the wine was pretty good (outstanding aroma though), dessert was tasty, so we finished off dinner with a few glasses of Johnny Walker, Amarretto, and espresso's. The best part, the total bill was $580 Bolivianos (~$80 USD). How cheap for one of the nicest restaurants in the city where we chatted for hours eating and drinking like kings.

I wake up really early tomorrow to get back to Lima. From Lima I head to Iquitos, Peru (back to the jungle) with Pat for the weekend.

Overnighter to Puno's Lake Titicaca Reed Islands

2008-06-19T16:26:00.001-07:00

June 9th - 10th 2008

The 10 PM bus was a nightmare. I paid extra for a cama bed seat but the fact my seat could recline comfortably was negated by the fact that it was 0 degrees outside the mountain slopes we crossed, the bus did not have heat, my sleeping bag was under the bus, and the gas fumes were creeping into my section. The guy behind me who was snoring really loud was fixed with the iPod music but the fumes and the cold were unbearable. I slept maybe 2 winks (on par with the other 16 first classer's). Carlos entered the bus from the street at 5 AM to solicit his tours to the floating reed islands and overnight sleeps with Quechuan islanders.

Filip, Anne and I were in the market and made our way to his office at sunrise. We were boarded on a bus with other groupies and shuttled to the loading dock.

The first sight of the reed islands was amazing. It didn't hit me what I was doing until the guide showed us how deep the water was under the reeds (35 feet). I was walking on roots of floating reeds that new reed shoots were piled upon so the decomposing layer underneath didn't pose a threat. Funny enough, one girl in our group of 20 fell to her armpits through a hole near the edge. It wasn't funny to her but it really was to everyone else; in the end she was ok.

We were shown the many different ways the people use the reeds (they even eat them for stomache aches), offered to buy reed crafts, an taken on a reed boat transport to a neighboring island.

Our last stop of the day was at Amarateus Island (3800 M) where we were all placed with a native family for the night. I was paired with 2 french guys and given a widow (with a new 2 year old) and 3 daughters (18, 19, and 24). These people live in shanty cement hut houses and our dwarf like room was upstairs with 3 single beds. Literally, you have to duck your head to get into these rooms.

The tiny kitchen featured a fireplace that was heated so the soup pots could heat on the embers. I ate the most delicious Quinoa soup for lunch and a equally good soup for dinner. They served us this tea that was fresh picked Muna stems with added hot water - so flavorful!

After dinner everybody hiked to the peak of the island (4100 Meters) to watch the sunset - really beautiful but very cold.

After the hike everybody was dressed in traditional clothing and brought up to the site of the town fiesta (there are about 20 odd people paired with different families, dressed up traditionally , and taken to this event).

Fil and I prepared for this beforehand by buying a bottle of dark rum (26 ounces for $4 USD). Everyone took turns learning the native dances with the locals, forming large circles and getting whipped around the snake-like rotations.

Our strong rum and cokes were keeping us warm (and happy) as we shared some extras with our tour guide. 20 minutes later he was clearly drunk and demonstrated a traditional salute for a good crop season to the gods with alcohol splashing (similiar to the "this is for my dead homies" gesture). The town elders were standing close by and applauding his every move. The next part of the celebration was the traditional chewing of the coca leafs. One leaf represented the Moon (tierra=land), another the Sun (mother), and the third I can't remember. It was all a bit unclear and seemed like a religious excuse to get wasted on booze or subdued by chewing on the coco leaf. Mind you, the coca leaf is not like the derivative cocaine as it is better known and is regarded as a sacred ritual-like thing more than an abusive substance (really it just gives you a sense of alertness, suppresses the appetite, and keeps you from noticing the cold (somewhat similar to the affect of caffeine from coffee)).

The music for the dances was played by four local 14 year old boys who were just entering highschool (perhaps the promising young folk from the tiny pueblo). We were all walked back home to our repective cottage-huts with no heating for a good nights sleep (thank goodness for the rummy warmth in a bottle).

Leaving the Home Stay and Island

The next day we woke up and ate deep fried pancakes and Muna tea. We then headed towards the boat for our last stop Taquile Island. On Taquile we were given the history of the islands within lake Titacaca and why they have their respective names MamaPacha, Papapacha, Amarateus, and Taquile.

We walked for 20 minutes up the steep cliffs from the boat towards the central plaza. Along the way we gained a great view of the farm land and animals overlooking the large lake. When we arrived to the plaza there was a textile store commemorating the traditional weaving artisans that populate the island. We then went to lunch and our guide brought out different pieces of traditional clothing and gave an explanation for each piece.

The three hour boat ride back was very sunny but also chilly due to the altitude.

The Rest of Cusco By Day

2008-06-19T15:45:00.000-07:00

June 8th 2008

The new crew (Anne, Fil, and I) awoke and hit up 3 museums before catching a cab to Tipon (30km away) for another set of ruins.

The aqueduct ruins were cool when we finally got there. Our private taxi driver drove us most of the way there but then started to renegotiate for more money (he didnt know the ruins were 5 k up a steep mountain and was scared his car would die). After too much uneasy arguing in the car, the 3 of us jumped out, paid him $8 too much (only considering he broke the deal), and hiked up the last 10 minutes during the 2PM mid-afternoon blistering heat.

On our way down we stopped in at a traditional Cuy restaurant that served all locals except us on the day. An oven baked Cuy (Guinea Pig), roasted potatoes, cilantro hot sauce, and pasta dish were served.

We opted to have the whole unchopped Cuy delivered so we could take some good photos. The taste was very strong but was likely from the herbs stuffed in the belly. There was not too much meat and the skin was like thick fried chicken skin. We did a good job and left feeling accomplished. The bus ride home was typically 43 people stuffed into a 25 seater but only cost 66 cents (for a 1 hour ride).

Back in town we went to another museum, a live Peruvian native dance show, the San Blas art district, and the last ruin on our list (Sasqaywaman). We grabbed our bags from the hostel storage and headed towards the bus stop for our 6 hour ride to Puno.

Return Through the Sacred Valley

2008-06-19T15:32:00.001-07:00

June 7th 2008

After 12 hours of sleep, Fil, Anne, and I caught our train to Ollayantambo where we caught a local colectivo bus to Urubamba. From here we rented a private taxi to take us around 3 different ruins. The Salt Pans in Salinas were crazy. This is an old Incan tradition of catching water from a warm salt spring and running it along waterways into dirt baths along the side of the mountain so they can dry out in the sun (leaving abundant salt reserves for export).

The next place was the cirular terraces for agriculture. Each ring was for a different type of crop.

The final ruins were nothing too special but had a great church and many young kids begging you to buy their goods.

We caught a sketchy taxi-ride home, where you are not sure why you are on edge but confirm afterwards that a jack-knife pulled, escape plans, and clenched fists were all independently parts of the ride home (low-balling negotiations between us and rivaling drivers led to an uninterpretable mayhem before we left).

Machu Picchu in Aguas Calientes, Peru

2008-06-19T14:31:00.000-07:00

June 6th - June 7th 2008

Despite what the guidebooks say (they must get paid off by Peru Rail for marketing), it is possible to get to Aguas Calientes aka Machu Picchu Village later in the evening instead of taking the expensive 4.5 hour train (it is a little known fact that Lonely Planet (and other guidebooks) are full of misinformation). I took cheap busses (total cost 6 soles = 2 USD) through the Sacred Valley to Ollantaytambo where the cheaper train ticket to Machu Picchu exists ($31 USD one way instead of $156 USD return). This is still expensive but the best you can do when a foreign English (or Chilean!?) company monopolizes Peru Rail.

On my way to Machu Picchu I stopped in a place called Pisaq to see their ruins (1 hour outside Cusco). They were quite nice and I had a private time (very few tourists visit these) walking around the terraces, aqueducts, and old walls.

In the Sacred Valley that lies between Cusco and Machu Picchu there are at least 10 different sites that offer visits to interesting ruins (none are as spectacular as Machu Picchu). I went to about 6 different sites and truthfully you get tired of looking at the old stones. I will say though that I was very impressed with the Inca craftsmanship. They mastered the interplay of naturally occurring rocks with carved rocks in their construction. Most notably, their waterways and irrigation systems demonstrate the calculations that went into their work.

After a 2 hour train I arrived in Machu Picchu village late at night with my two new friends Filip and Anne. We made a plan to wake up at 4:45 to get to the lineup for the first bus at 5:30 AM. We arrived to the gate of Machu Picchu before it opened and were among the first through the doors. I put an extra bounce into my step and was among the first three people to walk into the upper terraces. Nobody was there and everyone was snapping the classic Postcard shot with nobody in site. The next task was to wait for the sunrise. At about 7AM the sun finally popped over the Andean peaks and slowly started to light up the ruins. It was quite remarkable. By this time, hundreds of people were about and pictures were starting to become impossible without including a random tourist.

Fil, Ann, and I decided to hike up to WaynuPicchu to look at Machu Picchu ruins from the other classic postcard vantage point. After 35 grueling minutes and a short duck under a cave we were rewarded with an intense view.

We decided to hike down the back to the Temple of the Moon caves. One hour later we arrived at the interesting caves with exposed Inca blocks and windows. Now the 45 minute ascent started to tire the body (we only had 4 hours of sleep).

The weather was blue skies and sunshine, so we visited the ruins up close for an hour dodging the thousands of tourists before heading back down to the village.

After reharging my battery and buying a train ticket for the following morning, I decided to go back up to Machu Picchu ruins at 3:30 for the sunset (when all the tourists have disappeared). It was great! I managed to see a Chinchilla for the first time in my life and all the evening birds were flying around. Slowly the sun dropped behind the Andean peaks casting the opposite shadows to the mornings sunrise.

Lagging far behind and getting whistled at by guards left, right, and center, I managed to get a few final photos as the last person to leave the ruins for the day (not bad, first in and last out).

Feeling satisfied with my sped up version of Machu Picchu, I have more time to explore the Sacred Valley and Cuzco.

When asked if I feel like a fool for not hiking the Inca trail, although it would have been nice, it is overpriced for what it is. Given the fact that the "Inca Trail" runs all the way from Quito, Ecuador down to Cuzco, Peru, there are many points of entry. I feel hiking around the sacred valley and discovering the other often overlooked ruins is a better alternative for me. However, it would have been nice to walk for a day or two along the trail to simulate entering Machu Picchu like the Inca's once did.

After the Sacred Valley, I plan to go to Lake Titicaca and La Paz, Bolivia.