The situation with the lack of plane ticket was resolved in a most peculiar manner. Arriving at 5:30 in the morning, I sought out an agent to talk to about the situation. I found someone, explained what happened, and was assured that we would get this resolved. After digging up my confirmation # (which I luckily wrote down at the time of purchase instead of relying on the typically very consistent email airlines typically send), the woman at the check-in desk simply took my passport, typed it into the computer and printed me up a boarding pass. I was never charged for the flight - and after 3 weeks of desperately trying to avoid scandalously expensive airline tickets, ironically flew to BA for free on Gol Airlines.
I arrived and grabbed a taxi - too exhausted to fight the convenience. An hour later they pulled up to my new apt. and I jumped out, met the agent who showed me the place, got the keys, walked straight out the front door to the pharmacy, bought drugs and passed out. The next morning I woke up and Alberto (my Italian roommate) gave me a bunch of generic antibiotics to take. When I asked him where he got them, his response was, "my mom and sister are both veterinarians."
The next few days were filled with more stories than could ever fit onto a page, but after some serious partying we decided to get out of BA before school started and head up north to see the Iguazu Falls - Argentinian waterfalls that are among the biggest in the world. After our plan to rent a car failed and airfare once again stiffled our hopes of flying, I found myself at yet another bus station buying a round trip ticket for 2 overnight busses for a combined 34 hours of travel. We left Wednesday night at 7:30 pm and pulled in the following morning at 12:00. We jumped out of the bus and headed to a hostal Lydia had heard about. We walked in, payed the $13 for the night, dropped our stuff in the room and grabbed the first colectivo to the falls. The waterfalls are not a 1 sight wonder. It is an entire national park FULL of waterfalls - imagine waterfalls EVERYWHERE you looked for kilometers. The entrance is a beautiful modern village, albeit touristy, with a museum and restaurants. From there you take a small open air train or a short 2 kilometer trail to "estacion cataratas" where you can either get off and walk the upper and lower circuits or continue to "la garganta del diablo". We decided day 1 would be the full train ride to the throat of the devil, a fall that is split directly on the boarder of Brazil with Argentina. Getting off the train, you walk across a catwalk like pathway over a sprawling river. It is so immense that the walk itself is roughly 30-45 minutes just to arrive at the falls. When you arrive, the catwalk goes along a cliff and you see before you a crecent shaped cliff over which is plummeting more water than I have ever seen. Because of the half-circle shape, all the water explodes at the bottom, spraying mist so heavy that within seconds you are literally dripping with water. From the falls we walked back, caught the small train and decided to walk the upper circuit. It took roughly 3 hours to walk the entire circle, taking you across and over roughly 10 distinct waterfalls. At certain spots it looks like the end of the world, with just an endless cliff stretching into the horizon with water pouring over the entire scene. At 6 when the park closed, we hopped the colectivo back to town and ate parrilla - Argentinian barbeque. Lydia ate intestines as part of our dollar challenge and then we found a nice cafe, got some coffees and played gin.
Day 2 we woke up at 7, threw our bags into the communal lockers and caught the colectivo back to the park. The previous day we learned of a 3 hour hike into the selva to a beautiful but small waterfall that is far removed from all the typical visitors. We set out on the hike and walked forever (something I have become all too familiar with on this trip) before arriving at a beautiful fall. Alberto and I peeled off our clothes and waded into the ice cool pool below in our bathing suits. Another dollar challenge presenting itself, I climed the slippery rocks under the fall and stood beneath the water. Then we dried off and hiked back to do the lower circuit. Another 3 hours of walking, this time we saw all the falls from below. Alberto & Lydia paid to get taken in a boat to the base of the falls, but the 12 minute trip was out of my price range so I stripped back down into my board shorts and headed for the lower falls. From the lower circuit, the view was an overload. I kept calling the experience an overdose of waterfalls because you reached a point of sheer numbness and disbelief at a landscape purely comprised of waterfalls. With very little time to make our return bus, we sprinted from the park, caught the 2:50 colectivo and arrived back at town at 3:10. We ran to the hostal, convinced them to loan us some towels, showered, changed, grabbed our stuff (i checked my email) then ran down to the station, stopped at a cafe to buy chips and a sandwich, and jumped on the 4 pm bus! We arrived back in BA at 10:30 the following day, effectively doing 32 hours of bus travel within a 63 hour time period. That is literally half of the entire time spent purely in transit! From the station, Alberto and I decided to walk back home through the botanical gardens.
There is no better feeling I have ever experienced than arriving from a long trip to a beautiful apartment that is IN a foreign city. It's the best of both worlds - getting to go home while still traveling! And from then the Argentina debachery continued... but as always, those stories await fresh pages and another day.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Saturday, October 4, 2008
The Road to Buenos Aires
Hopes and dreams of a private room and a tranquil series of days watching tv, passed out on my all white linen bed DESTROYED, I looked around at my chaotic and bustling backpackers hostal. The English guy was keen on putting down a drink to celebrate the new arrival, and the ritual seemed all too familiar to pass up. So there I sat, a caipirina in one hand and a pair of chopsticks in the other, eating sushi and getting to know my new friend. The night stayed pretty relaxed all things considered, and around 1 I got to bed.
The next day was true urban adventure - armed with a map and an open schedule we headed out into Santiago. We attended a protest in a local square, then passed through Plaza de Armas (as it turns out, every city in South America is required to have at least one plaza with this name), then went to a fish market, walked through the Bohemian neighborhood of Barrio BellaVista, ambled to the base of a mountain and caught a bus to the top where we were accosted by a group of high school girls who treated us like a regular boy band, caught a cable car ride across and down the mountain, spent some time in a park, and finally ended up on the outskirts of town at one of the poshiest malls I had ever seen. Finally, after being out and about for 12 straight hours, we headed home.
The following day, we decided to make the most of it and charged to city center again. We strolled around, flirted with the idea of seeing a movie and popped into the Museum of Pre-Colombian History before catching a bus to Valpariaso with an Israeli guy and a girl from Korea that Mike had met that morning (he's the English guy). The 2 hour bus ride dropped us off where we caught a colectivo (picture streets full of VW buses, painted up and slapped with #'s that then drive all over the streets, throw open the doors, scoop people up, and drop them back off all over the city - its public transportation except anyone can participate, all you need is a vehicle, a liscence, and an active imagination). We got dropped off somewhat near the hostal we were told to go to, and after a short walk arrived at a huge multi-colored building. We knock and get let in where, in the center courtyard is a strobe light pulsing to techno music while a girl twirls in the center holding a bride's vail! As we walk in she says, welcome, we are having a party! And so we meet the owner of the hostal... apparently we are its only tenants, an unexpected arrival to say the least. After a quick stroll through town, my travel companions start to drop off - a wonderful idea for me considering my sickness seems to be winning the battle against my immune system - yet somehow after all the non spanish speakers have pushed off, i find myself seated at a table with: 3 chileans, 1 argentinian, a pile of coca leaves, a box of uppers, a bowl of noodles and 3 litres of beer. No mind the fact that all 4 of these suspects ushered everyone else to bed complaining of class and work at 8 am the next morning and loudly declaring their unfortunate need to retire early. Needless to say my attempts to go to bed that night were thwarted and at 3 am I finally had to part from the group.
woke up the next morning to a house strewn with people, passed out on the couch, the chair, beds in empty rooms... you name it. No work, no school, no one was getting up. Once again in a move of sheer logical genius, I decided that if anyone was going to get up and have an active day it should be the guy slowly dying of a case of what had surely at this point degenerated into Black Lung. I set out on a walk, and walked up and down the city, catching its infamous mountain elevators that slide up and down the mountainsides on tracks (most of them built in 1909 and not renovated since!). I trekked all over Valparaiso, and when I was done, I went back to grab Mike and hopped a Colectivo to Vina del Mar. If Valpariaso is the El Segundo of the coast (urban, over populated and cheap), Vina del Mar is the Malibu. As soon as we crossed the bridge, it felt like the 20 minute journey had taken us into paradise. The prices of all things from sun screen to margaritas trippled, but the beaches were abundant and awash with people that just exuded money. It was a truly beautiful town along the beach, with an inlet that shot from the beach straight through the middle of town, leaving bridges all across the interior. We caught a beautiful sunset over the ocean before I raced back to Valparaiso to catch a bus back to Santiago. Arriving at 10 pm, I checked my email to find that my purchase of my 7:30 am flight to Argentina the next day, which I randomly found at an internet cafe for $200 instead of the typical $350-$400, didn't seem to go through - and I was ticketless for my travels. Luckily, there was a 5 am taxi headed to the airport - so at this point in almost zombie-like state, I grabbed my well deserved 4 hours of sleep and headed to the airport to catch a plane for which I did not have a ticket...
The next day was true urban adventure - armed with a map and an open schedule we headed out into Santiago. We attended a protest in a local square, then passed through Plaza de Armas (as it turns out, every city in South America is required to have at least one plaza with this name), then went to a fish market, walked through the Bohemian neighborhood of Barrio BellaVista, ambled to the base of a mountain and caught a bus to the top where we were accosted by a group of high school girls who treated us like a regular boy band, caught a cable car ride across and down the mountain, spent some time in a park, and finally ended up on the outskirts of town at one of the poshiest malls I had ever seen. Finally, after being out and about for 12 straight hours, we headed home.
The following day, we decided to make the most of it and charged to city center again. We strolled around, flirted with the idea of seeing a movie and popped into the Museum of Pre-Colombian History before catching a bus to Valpariaso with an Israeli guy and a girl from Korea that Mike had met that morning (he's the English guy). The 2 hour bus ride dropped us off where we caught a colectivo (picture streets full of VW buses, painted up and slapped with #'s that then drive all over the streets, throw open the doors, scoop people up, and drop them back off all over the city - its public transportation except anyone can participate, all you need is a vehicle, a liscence, and an active imagination). We got dropped off somewhat near the hostal we were told to go to, and after a short walk arrived at a huge multi-colored building. We knock and get let in where, in the center courtyard is a strobe light pulsing to techno music while a girl twirls in the center holding a bride's vail! As we walk in she says, welcome, we are having a party! And so we meet the owner of the hostal... apparently we are its only tenants, an unexpected arrival to say the least. After a quick stroll through town, my travel companions start to drop off - a wonderful idea for me considering my sickness seems to be winning the battle against my immune system - yet somehow after all the non spanish speakers have pushed off, i find myself seated at a table with: 3 chileans, 1 argentinian, a pile of coca leaves, a box of uppers, a bowl of noodles and 3 litres of beer. No mind the fact that all 4 of these suspects ushered everyone else to bed complaining of class and work at 8 am the next morning and loudly declaring their unfortunate need to retire early. Needless to say my attempts to go to bed that night were thwarted and at 3 am I finally had to part from the group.
woke up the next morning to a house strewn with people, passed out on the couch, the chair, beds in empty rooms... you name it. No work, no school, no one was getting up. Once again in a move of sheer logical genius, I decided that if anyone was going to get up and have an active day it should be the guy slowly dying of a case of what had surely at this point degenerated into Black Lung. I set out on a walk, and walked up and down the city, catching its infamous mountain elevators that slide up and down the mountainsides on tracks (most of them built in 1909 and not renovated since!). I trekked all over Valparaiso, and when I was done, I went back to grab Mike and hopped a Colectivo to Vina del Mar. If Valpariaso is the El Segundo of the coast (urban, over populated and cheap), Vina del Mar is the Malibu. As soon as we crossed the bridge, it felt like the 20 minute journey had taken us into paradise. The prices of all things from sun screen to margaritas trippled, but the beaches were abundant and awash with people that just exuded money. It was a truly beautiful town along the beach, with an inlet that shot from the beach straight through the middle of town, leaving bridges all across the interior. We caught a beautiful sunset over the ocean before I raced back to Valparaiso to catch a bus back to Santiago. Arriving at 10 pm, I checked my email to find that my purchase of my 7:30 am flight to Argentina the next day, which I randomly found at an internet cafe for $200 instead of the typical $350-$400, didn't seem to go through - and I was ticketless for my travels. Luckily, there was a 5 am taxi headed to the airport - so at this point in almost zombie-like state, I grabbed my well deserved 4 hours of sleep and headed to the airport to catch a plane for which I did not have a ticket...
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
The ILLUSION of Plans
It was not until boarding the bus to Puno at 7 am, after 1 hour of sleep, that we were informed that this was no ordinary bus trip. Forget the simple, direct 5 hour route... instead try the 10 hour, stop at 6 different locations, all day extravaganza! But despite the aching body and blurred vision, it was actually quite fun.
We strolled into Puno, did the typical new city exploration, and were up the next morning bright and early to take a boat out onto the lakes of Titicaca (the worlds highest navegable lake) to see the Floating Island People... yea, I know! It turns out that hundreds of years ago a whole tribe of people, in an attempt to escape the conquering Incas, took to living on boats made out of reeds with little huts built on them. A mere 100 years later, they found that the special roots of these reeds could float, and when cut into 70 to 100 2x2 foot squares and lashed together, they formed man made floating islands. Cover these with a fresh 3 foot deep floor of fresh reeds rotated every 40 days and you have yourself your own mini continent! Unfortunately for these tribes, tourism is all too interested in their unique little Edens, and it wont be long until their way of life as we know it vanishes.
After our half day adventure, we caught a cab straight to the bus station to catch our bus across the border to Bolivia and their version of the COPACABANA! For those who don't follow international politics, yet again Bush has managed to piss off another nation and as such the Bolivians are charging Americans $135 a person to even cross the border. This, combined with the internal civil unrest, caused me to make a split decision. At the foot of the bus, I decided my path did not lie through Bolivia. I spoke briefly to the agent who had brought us and decided then and there to forego my ticket and buy an overnight bus to Tacna, the southernmost city on the border of Peru and Chile. I spent the rest of the day hanging out in an internet cafe/travel agency, and set out at 8 pm that night.
The next morning, bleary eyed and confused, I arrived in Tacna to a barrage of people offering to take me over the border. Not sure how to proceed, I decided I would begin the 1h 30 min trek across to the Chilean town of Arica and figure things out there. After a few discussions and a few customs agents, I was standing in Chile at 9:30 am. I promptly asked for the most logical route to Santiago and found out that it is a PALTRY 28 hour bus ride down the beautiful Chilean coast. The best bus, a seat that reclined so far back they called it semi bed, didnt leave until 6 pm... and so once again I set out to see if I could kill a whole day in a city I knew nothing about. Finally, I boarded the bus, began the longest single land commute I have ever engaged in, and a full 1 day and 4 hours later I pulled into Santiago, Chile at 10 pm at night.
The trip was a mixed sweet and sour - on the one hand, I started to come down with a sore throat so I was really irritated. On the other, it did make me immensely tired so sleeping was no problem. Upon arrival, taking the advice of my ever faithful Lonely Planet, I set out on a 20 minute stroll to find myself a hostal. My hopes and dreams of a private bedroom with heated showers to ease my sick body vanished when I came upon a huge, victorian house renovated backpacker style and full of travelers. I threw myself down on my bed in the 8 bed dorm room, looked over and saw an English boy who had just checked in as well. Conversation sparked up, we decided to grab a bite and a drink, and I had a travel companion for the next 4 days... but once again thats another tale.
We strolled into Puno, did the typical new city exploration, and were up the next morning bright and early to take a boat out onto the lakes of Titicaca (the worlds highest navegable lake) to see the Floating Island People... yea, I know! It turns out that hundreds of years ago a whole tribe of people, in an attempt to escape the conquering Incas, took to living on boats made out of reeds with little huts built on them. A mere 100 years later, they found that the special roots of these reeds could float, and when cut into 70 to 100 2x2 foot squares and lashed together, they formed man made floating islands. Cover these with a fresh 3 foot deep floor of fresh reeds rotated every 40 days and you have yourself your own mini continent! Unfortunately for these tribes, tourism is all too interested in their unique little Edens, and it wont be long until their way of life as we know it vanishes.
After our half day adventure, we caught a cab straight to the bus station to catch our bus across the border to Bolivia and their version of the COPACABANA! For those who don't follow international politics, yet again Bush has managed to piss off another nation and as such the Bolivians are charging Americans $135 a person to even cross the border. This, combined with the internal civil unrest, caused me to make a split decision. At the foot of the bus, I decided my path did not lie through Bolivia. I spoke briefly to the agent who had brought us and decided then and there to forego my ticket and buy an overnight bus to Tacna, the southernmost city on the border of Peru and Chile. I spent the rest of the day hanging out in an internet cafe/travel agency, and set out at 8 pm that night.
The next morning, bleary eyed and confused, I arrived in Tacna to a barrage of people offering to take me over the border. Not sure how to proceed, I decided I would begin the 1h 30 min trek across to the Chilean town of Arica and figure things out there. After a few discussions and a few customs agents, I was standing in Chile at 9:30 am. I promptly asked for the most logical route to Santiago and found out that it is a PALTRY 28 hour bus ride down the beautiful Chilean coast. The best bus, a seat that reclined so far back they called it semi bed, didnt leave until 6 pm... and so once again I set out to see if I could kill a whole day in a city I knew nothing about. Finally, I boarded the bus, began the longest single land commute I have ever engaged in, and a full 1 day and 4 hours later I pulled into Santiago, Chile at 10 pm at night.
The trip was a mixed sweet and sour - on the one hand, I started to come down with a sore throat so I was really irritated. On the other, it did make me immensely tired so sleeping was no problem. Upon arrival, taking the advice of my ever faithful Lonely Planet, I set out on a 20 minute stroll to find myself a hostal. My hopes and dreams of a private bedroom with heated showers to ease my sick body vanished when I came upon a huge, victorian house renovated backpacker style and full of travelers. I threw myself down on my bed in the 8 bed dorm room, looked over and saw an English boy who had just checked in as well. Conversation sparked up, we decided to grab a bite and a drink, and I had a travel companion for the next 4 days... but once again thats another tale.
Friday, September 26, 2008
Machu Picchu
We arrived in Cuzco at 4 pm - the jump off city for Machu Picchu. We went to the office for the Inca Jungle Tour - a tour that last 4 days and avoids the traditional Inca Trail, which has become crowded with tourists as of late. After grabbing the essentials (a $3 backpack made out of alpaca, bug spray and a rain poncho) we headed out for a little pre-hike celebration. We had heard there was authentic live music at a peruvian bar, so Alberto & I headed out to enjoy the festivities. On the way in I saw a group and heard Spanish, English & French being spoken... so I naturally headed right over. We hung out with a big group mixed of locals and travelers from all over, splitting 1.5 litre bottles of beers until all of a sudden a fire was lit in the front of the room and out walked a shaman followed by 8 guys. The burning herbs in the front of the room took the crowd to a spiritual place, and prepared us for the music to come. The band rocked and the rhythm was too much, and so everyone took to dancing. We danced until midnight, when a local said it was time to hit up a club. We danced until 2:30 when we headed home to pack for the trip.
At 6:30, with a hearty 3 and 1/2 hours of sleep, we headed out. Our guide, Luis, is one of the most amazing and sincere people I have met in many years. He did not speak much English, and since I was the only one to speak fluent Spanish, we immediately formed a relationship. Luis and I spent a lot of time talking over the next 4 days. The first day was a short ride to the top of a mountain, where we mountain biked all the way down the other side. The group of 8 was originally to be accompanied by a small car, but 2 hours into the biking we came across a huge land slide that had taken out the road on the side of a mountain. We grabbed our bikes and climbed over the slide, leaving the bike and all civilization behind. Here the path turned to dirt and we biked another 6 hours straight into the darkness when we finally arrived at our first stop, Santa Maria.
The next morning we awoke at 6:30 again and began our hike. We hiked into the mountains and through valleys more breathtaking than anything I had ever seen. At times we walked along the side of a cliff following a 3 ft wide road carved into the side of the mountain hundreds of years ago by the Incas. This day we hiked another 8 hours, crossing the river on swaying bridges, and crossing one gap on a 4 planked car suspended from a cable where you had to pull yourself across using a rope strung up above. Finally we arrived at natural hot springs where we dove in. The site was astounding, with huge springs of differing temperature, and although they were natural the locals had built beautiful rock pools out of them. That night we were close to the small town of Santa Teresa, and so we slept well.
The 3rd day was the most grueling, once again waking up at 6:30 and hiking from 3,900 to 4,300 meters over the course of 4 hours. It was brutal but worth it as we finally came over the summit and ate at an old incan outpost overlooking machu picchu in the distance. The downhill hike took us over small streams, and in the distance poured a powerful waterfull. Anxious to reach it, I sprinted down the steep switchbacks carved into the mountain with 2 other ambitious travelers of our group. After 1 hour of full downhill sprint, we ran into a local doing work for the state who carried us to a natural bathing pool formed by the river. I immediately stripped and dove in, cooling down and washing off for 15 minutes before the rest of the group caught up. From there we hiked past the waterfall and down to a small town called Hidroelectrica where an old locomotive would take us the last hour into Aguas Calientes, the base town of Machu Picchu. We arrived practically dead, ate and slept for the following day.
On the 4th day we awoke at 4:30 to get to Machu Picchu early, because only 400 people a day are allowed to hike Wayna Picchu - a mountain that stands another 45 minute vertical hike above the city, but gives an amazing view. We got to Machu Picchu at 5:30 and after waiting for it to open and to get our tickets stamped for Wayna Picchu, we had our guide give us a tour of Machu Picchu. At 10 we started our hike up rocks and paths that would be illegal to traverse in most countries. You could look down at a 400 foot drop below you, or sometimes the distance was so great the ground was barely visible. The structures were beyond words, however, and the culture of the civilization overtook us. Alpacas and Llamas grazed between Incan buildings, and all around us was forest and mountain and valley of immesurable scale. One could not help but just feel lost in both space and time, standing at the edge of a cliff and looking around. Finally, exhausted, we set off for the 1 and 1/2 hour downhill hike back to town, where we arrived at 4:30 and ate and drank until our train at 7 to Ollataytambo, where a van would wait to pick us up and take us to Cuzco. We pulled into Cuzco at 10:30, and after growing so close over the past 4 days, the 8 of us plus our guide Luis headed out. It would be a crime against my fellow travelers to share the events of the night, but let it be said that debauchery was had. I finally strolled back into my room at 5 am, time enough to pack and take a 1 hour power nap before waking up the following morning to make it to Puno...
At 6:30, with a hearty 3 and 1/2 hours of sleep, we headed out. Our guide, Luis, is one of the most amazing and sincere people I have met in many years. He did not speak much English, and since I was the only one to speak fluent Spanish, we immediately formed a relationship. Luis and I spent a lot of time talking over the next 4 days. The first day was a short ride to the top of a mountain, where we mountain biked all the way down the other side. The group of 8 was originally to be accompanied by a small car, but 2 hours into the biking we came across a huge land slide that had taken out the road on the side of a mountain. We grabbed our bikes and climbed over the slide, leaving the bike and all civilization behind. Here the path turned to dirt and we biked another 6 hours straight into the darkness when we finally arrived at our first stop, Santa Maria.
The next morning we awoke at 6:30 again and began our hike. We hiked into the mountains and through valleys more breathtaking than anything I had ever seen. At times we walked along the side of a cliff following a 3 ft wide road carved into the side of the mountain hundreds of years ago by the Incas. This day we hiked another 8 hours, crossing the river on swaying bridges, and crossing one gap on a 4 planked car suspended from a cable where you had to pull yourself across using a rope strung up above. Finally we arrived at natural hot springs where we dove in. The site was astounding, with huge springs of differing temperature, and although they were natural the locals had built beautiful rock pools out of them. That night we were close to the small town of Santa Teresa, and so we slept well.
The 3rd day was the most grueling, once again waking up at 6:30 and hiking from 3,900 to 4,300 meters over the course of 4 hours. It was brutal but worth it as we finally came over the summit and ate at an old incan outpost overlooking machu picchu in the distance. The downhill hike took us over small streams, and in the distance poured a powerful waterfull. Anxious to reach it, I sprinted down the steep switchbacks carved into the mountain with 2 other ambitious travelers of our group. After 1 hour of full downhill sprint, we ran into a local doing work for the state who carried us to a natural bathing pool formed by the river. I immediately stripped and dove in, cooling down and washing off for 15 minutes before the rest of the group caught up. From there we hiked past the waterfall and down to a small town called Hidroelectrica where an old locomotive would take us the last hour into Aguas Calientes, the base town of Machu Picchu. We arrived practically dead, ate and slept for the following day.
On the 4th day we awoke at 4:30 to get to Machu Picchu early, because only 400 people a day are allowed to hike Wayna Picchu - a mountain that stands another 45 minute vertical hike above the city, but gives an amazing view. We got to Machu Picchu at 5:30 and after waiting for it to open and to get our tickets stamped for Wayna Picchu, we had our guide give us a tour of Machu Picchu. At 10 we started our hike up rocks and paths that would be illegal to traverse in most countries. You could look down at a 400 foot drop below you, or sometimes the distance was so great the ground was barely visible. The structures were beyond words, however, and the culture of the civilization overtook us. Alpacas and Llamas grazed between Incan buildings, and all around us was forest and mountain and valley of immesurable scale. One could not help but just feel lost in both space and time, standing at the edge of a cliff and looking around. Finally, exhausted, we set off for the 1 and 1/2 hour downhill hike back to town, where we arrived at 4:30 and ate and drank until our train at 7 to Ollataytambo, where a van would wait to pick us up and take us to Cuzco. We pulled into Cuzco at 10:30, and after growing so close over the past 4 days, the 8 of us plus our guide Luis headed out. It would be a crime against my fellow travelers to share the events of the night, but let it be said that debauchery was had. I finally strolled back into my room at 5 am, time enough to pack and take a 1 hour power nap before waking up the following morning to make it to Puno...
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Reunited
Resigned to the fact that my bag and I would not be reunited any time soon, I set my site to enjoying Huanchaco. The day following the trip to Chan Chan, we went to Huaca Sol y Luna, a site where two temples (sun and moon) were built as the foundation by the Moche for a mountain city of roughly 30,000 people around 1000 AD. It was a fabulous site, as the people lived there for 500 years, and every 100 years they would build a new layer on top of each temple to close a dynasty and welcome a new one. The surf was good, and there was a vegitarian place a few kilometers away with a great menu. At a local bar where I became friends with the owner, some of his friends rolled into town and are part of an authentic peruvian band. They played music and, moved by the beat, I got up and played this box percussion instrument you sit on and play. It was short lived as I needed to catch an overnight bus, but a cool time nonetheless beating on the box while some locals jammed out.
The hostal became slightly inhospitable, as there was a miscommunication during reservations and they forgot to tell us the whole place was under renovation and uninhabitable. The most startling encounter I had was when I was running up the outdoor, wrap around stairs with my surf board when I heard a yell to stop. A man came running up to tell me that, due to construction, they had removed a few steps from the free hanging staircase. I looked down and sure enough, two steps above me was wide open space as I stared at the ground below.
Other than that, the trip was great, but I am now resigned to accept the fact that I can no longer go into Bolivia as civil unrest has spurred government reaction and there are killings happening all over the country. With a huge hole in my path to Buenos Aires, I am slightly confused, but FINALLY after 6 days I have been reunited with my bag, so it will be nice to have fresh clothes. In a few hours I will fly to Cuzco, where tomorrow begins the hike of Macchu Picchu!
The hostal became slightly inhospitable, as there was a miscommunication during reservations and they forgot to tell us the whole place was under renovation and uninhabitable. The most startling encounter I had was when I was running up the outdoor, wrap around stairs with my surf board when I heard a yell to stop. A man came running up to tell me that, due to construction, they had removed a few steps from the free hanging staircase. I looked down and sure enough, two steps above me was wide open space as I stared at the ground below.
Other than that, the trip was great, but I am now resigned to accept the fact that I can no longer go into Bolivia as civil unrest has spurred government reaction and there are killings happening all over the country. With a huge hole in my path to Buenos Aires, I am slightly confused, but FINALLY after 6 days I have been reunited with my bag, so it will be nice to have fresh clothes. In a few hours I will fly to Cuzco, where tomorrow begins the hike of Macchu Picchu!
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Tomorrow The Sun Will Rise
The funniest thing about traveling is the effort you put into planning it. The days or weeks or months of looking at proposed itineraries, reading first hand accounts, soliciting suggestions, packing, shopping, repacking... and in the end it all goes out the window.
4 days have passed since I lost my bag. Luckily for me I was coming to Lima to meet friends, and Alberto (the Italian with whom I will be living in Buenos Aires) leant me a pair of pants, socks, boxers and shirt - to add to the shirt, shorts, boxers and socks I was already wearing. After 2 hours in the airport, I walked half a kilometer to the local highway to avoid paying the outrageous $30-$50 airport cabs charge and caught a city cab to downtown for $5. I arrived at a huge, gated mansion which the owner turned into a hostal a few years back. From the outside, one could never tell that behind that small mahogony door set into white stucko sat a 3 story house of immense beauty. The 3 days I spent in Lima were mostly passed planning the next few weeks - coupled with a few trips to city center and the ever necessary night of cosmic bowling on a cliff overlooking the sea. I spent every day feverously calling the airport in search of my bag, only to have the phone ring and ring.
Hopeless, we left the hostal owner with the airport # & hopped an overnight bus up north to a beach town called Trujillo. We arrived @ 7 am and caught a cab to a town a few kilometers south called Huanchaco, where upon arrival we picked up some boards and went surfing (tho u could hardly call what i did surfing, since the really wide break made it impossible to paddle around the waves, and i got thrashed by wave after wave until i had to admit defeat). At 2 we caught a bus to a tour of the largest adobe city ever built, Chan Chan. The whole city corresponds to an indigenous people who preceeded the Incans and were eventually defeated by them. The main area we toured was a palace of the first governor - a 110,000 square METER palace capable of housing hundreds of individuals. The rest of the day was pretty uneventful... let the fight continue tomorrow.
4 days have passed since I lost my bag. Luckily for me I was coming to Lima to meet friends, and Alberto (the Italian with whom I will be living in Buenos Aires) leant me a pair of pants, socks, boxers and shirt - to add to the shirt, shorts, boxers and socks I was already wearing. After 2 hours in the airport, I walked half a kilometer to the local highway to avoid paying the outrageous $30-$50 airport cabs charge and caught a city cab to downtown for $5. I arrived at a huge, gated mansion which the owner turned into a hostal a few years back. From the outside, one could never tell that behind that small mahogony door set into white stucko sat a 3 story house of immense beauty. The 3 days I spent in Lima were mostly passed planning the next few weeks - coupled with a few trips to city center and the ever necessary night of cosmic bowling on a cliff overlooking the sea. I spent every day feverously calling the airport in search of my bag, only to have the phone ring and ring.
Hopeless, we left the hostal owner with the airport # & hopped an overnight bus up north to a beach town called Trujillo. We arrived @ 7 am and caught a cab to a town a few kilometers south called Huanchaco, where upon arrival we picked up some boards and went surfing (tho u could hardly call what i did surfing, since the really wide break made it impossible to paddle around the waves, and i got thrashed by wave after wave until i had to admit defeat). At 2 we caught a bus to a tour of the largest adobe city ever built, Chan Chan. The whole city corresponds to an indigenous people who preceeded the Incans and were eventually defeated by them. The main area we toured was a palace of the first governor - a 110,000 square METER palace capable of housing hundreds of individuals. The rest of the day was pretty uneventful... let the fight continue tomorrow.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Going With The Flow
I'm sitting in an internet cafe talking about my general lack of plans when my travel companions discover that I never got vaccinated for Yellow Fever. As it so happens, you are legally required to be vaccinated to even enter Colombia, but apparently this law does not apply to me. A local told me there was a clinic that gave out a free vaccine in town, and we made a plan. Wake up @ 6:30 to check out of hostal, go seek out vaccine, catch a cab to a mercado outside of town where you can catch a ride on the local boats that travel back and forth to an island 45 minutes away called Playa Blanca, find a hostal owned by a Frenchman named Gilbert, stay the night & catch a ride back the next afternoon.
The following is the readers digest of the events: The centro de salud doesn't give the shot but knows of a place 30 minutes away (and coincidentally close to the mercado where we search for a boat). We caught a cab for $4 and headed to this very poor barrio to pull up to 200+ people waiting outside for service. The cabbie realizes the hopelessness of the situation, parks the cab, and jumps out with me. We weave through the people asking questions and making excuses, constantly getting referred farther and farther back into the small building, sweltering hot and packed with people. Finally we arrive at a door marked vacuna (vaccine), knock, explain to a few people the nature of the situation, get ushered in & I get a needle shoved into my arm faster than I can blink. They grab my passport, jot down a few #'s, give me a yellow card to prove I'm yellow fever free, and we're back outside. We jump in the cab and drive to the docks, which are surrounded by a 1 way circular road avoid making the 4 kilometer tour, the taxi driver pulls onto the road, throws the car into reverse, and books it backwards at 30 km an hour. We catch a boat with the locals, arrive on the island, find the frenchman, and him up until he lets us use his wood canopy he built farther down the beach and separated from everything. We spend the day snorkeling, swimming and lying about until someone approaches us asking us if we want a ride back - and in a last minute decision catch a boat back to the mainland.
The next day I spent the whole time trying to figure how to get out of Colombia... as flights are WAY too expensive. After visiting 3 travel agencies and wasting 5 hours, I finally buy a round trip ticket to Lima, Peru (because the 1 way was $100 more expensive!) for an astounding $400. The flight leaves at 6 am, so I go back to the hostal where I meet 3 Israelis, 2 Germans, 1 Austrailian, a Colombian from Bogota & a Canadian. I teach all of them how to play Kings Cup and after 2 handles of Rum and 2 bottles of Vodka we head across the street to a bar where a band is playing live Salsa. We spend the whole night salsa dancing until 4 am, when I head back to the hostal, pack my bag by flashlight and catch a cab at 4:30 to the airport. I arrive at Bogota at 8 am, spend 5 and a half hours in the airport wasting time til my 1:40 flight to Lima, Peru where I arrive at 4:45 ... unfortunately, my bag doesn't. Where is my bag? I sit here 24 hours later, and the answer to that question is still " I dont know"...
The following is the readers digest of the events: The centro de salud doesn't give the shot but knows of a place 30 minutes away (and coincidentally close to the mercado where we search for a boat). We caught a cab for $4 and headed to this very poor barrio to pull up to 200+ people waiting outside for service. The cabbie realizes the hopelessness of the situation, parks the cab, and jumps out with me. We weave through the people asking questions and making excuses, constantly getting referred farther and farther back into the small building, sweltering hot and packed with people. Finally we arrive at a door marked vacuna (vaccine), knock, explain to a few people the nature of the situation, get ushered in & I get a needle shoved into my arm faster than I can blink. They grab my passport, jot down a few #'s, give me a yellow card to prove I'm yellow fever free, and we're back outside. We jump in the cab and drive to the docks, which are surrounded by a 1 way circular road avoid making the 4 kilometer tour, the taxi driver pulls onto the road, throws the car into reverse, and books it backwards at 30 km an hour. We catch a boat with the locals, arrive on the island, find the frenchman, and him up until he lets us use his wood canopy he built farther down the beach and separated from everything. We spend the day snorkeling, swimming and lying about until someone approaches us asking us if we want a ride back - and in a last minute decision catch a boat back to the mainland.
The next day I spent the whole time trying to figure how to get out of Colombia... as flights are WAY too expensive. After visiting 3 travel agencies and wasting 5 hours, I finally buy a round trip ticket to Lima, Peru (because the 1 way was $100 more expensive!) for an astounding $400. The flight leaves at 6 am, so I go back to the hostal where I meet 3 Israelis, 2 Germans, 1 Austrailian, a Colombian from Bogota & a Canadian. I teach all of them how to play Kings Cup and after 2 handles of Rum and 2 bottles of Vodka we head across the street to a bar where a band is playing live Salsa. We spend the whole night salsa dancing until 4 am, when I head back to the hostal, pack my bag by flashlight and catch a cab at 4:30 to the airport. I arrive at Bogota at 8 am, spend 5 and a half hours in the airport wasting time til my 1:40 flight to Lima, Peru where I arrive at 4:45 ... unfortunately, my bag doesn't. Where is my bag? I sit here 24 hours later, and the answer to that question is still " I dont know"...
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