People Are People

What nearly always take some getting used to for me living out of my backpack is how a person makes friends on the road. You are thrust into these bizarre situations all the time with random strangers, and just as quickly you find yourself apart from these same people. Rafaela from the trek puts too much salt on her food, is worried about her sick grandmother, and doesn´t like sushi. Max likes Nordic heavy metal and doesn´t need a shave after 5 days in the bush. Kate wants to travel more but has to move home after this trip to her parents´ place outside Glasgow to figure out if she wants to start a career or travel more. Who are these people? Why should I care about them? I have met so many people, and have pages of email addresses, most rarely used. But, on the other hand, just a few months ago I spent 5 short days in London and saw two people I met (separately) in Thailand, and one I met in Belize. Or is it only that we make friends quickly on the road because we are lonely, or bored with our companinion? Or is it merely that curious people travel, and we ask questions to learn new things and just make new friends in the process? Why do I bother to ask these questions?

Travel Tale, Update

I get off the bus from Huaraz in Trujillo yesterday at about 530 in the morning. I slept OK, but there is nothing worse than waking up and five minutes later someone incessantly calling in your ear about hotels, tours, taxis, etc. Anyway, I walk out into the street and agree to a 15 soles ride out to the beach town of Huanchaco. The guy, however, does not have a proper yellow taxi, but instead has a beatup black VW Beetle that is incapable of going faster than 50 kph. The best part was where he told me to put on my seat belt, which was a canvas strap that attached to nothing (I assume in case the policia saw us drive by). And we get out to the beach, and the guy cannot make change for a 20 soles note. Absurd.

***

Had a nice day at the beach yesterday. Saw Chan Chan (awesome), then a few minot Chimu sites, then had a big plate of ceviche. Ended up sharing a room with a German named Simone and a Scottish girl who calls herself Kate. Had a nice chat with them at the terrace at Casa Suiza in Huanchaco last night and a pleasant breakfast as well before they headed off to Chan Chan themselves this morning.

Trujillo is a charming enough place. I had a look around some today.



Took a collectivo out to the Huacas del Moche this afternoon, muy bueno. Frescos from literally thousands of years ago. Very, very cool.



Anyway, another overnight bus to Lima tonight. Should spend a couple of hours at Luis´s flat, then I am off on a plane to the jungle. Iquitos is supposed to be very fun, and I am quite excited about a week in the middle of the Amazon lowland. The jungle is the missing part of the survey of Peru: hot and humid, lots of green, and tons of crazy wildlife. And do not worry, I got a fiebre amarillo vaccine last week at the airport in Lima (and I did it all in español).

Until next time...

Since the Trek

I got up Ssaturday morning after about 4 hours of sleep to meet the Germanic kids one last time, in order to have breakfast and swap photos. An early morning, indeed. I then hopped a quick flight back to Lima and was back in the pleasant Occidental world of San Isidro. Luis and Andrea had a wedding that evening, but Papa Lucha was visiting from Chincha, and we had a nice chat in broken Spanglish. Saturday night Luis and I went to an amazing party at a top floor flat in Miraflores (sort of a Peruvian Beverly Hills) overlooking the Pacific. The place actually has a glassed in shower overlooking the beach. Sunday I spent in Lima, the morning hanging out by the pool at Luis's country club while he golfed, and Andrea joined us for an afternoon party at his friend Nicolas's place (I actually met Nicolas, a Perivian who was living in London when I visited Luis this summmer.) Sunday night put my on a bus to Huaraz in the Cordillera Blanca. Huaraz is known for its trekking, but I am a little trekked out particularly as the weather wasn't cooperating. A day trip to Chavín de Huántar one day,



and another trip to Llanganuco Lake.



En route to the Lake, we stopped at Yungay, scene of a

devasting avalance

on 30 May 1970, where an estimated 17,000 villagers died in the scope of 5 minutes when part of the wall of Huascaran fell to the earth and swallowed up the entire village. A few dozen people were spared because the were at the town cemetary, one of the few spots of high ground spared the devastation. Over 50,000 died throughout Peru.

Another overnight bus has left me outside Trujillo, in a beach town near the very impressive ruins of Chan Chan, a dominating coastal culture until their annexation by the Incas in the 15th Century.

This afternoon is for drinking at the beach and eating ceviche, and tomorrow I'll see some more ruins at the city of Trjillo.

Trekking

Eve of Trip

Nothing is open in Cusco besides small retailers and restaurants as it is election day. However, I have finally become confident enough in my Spanish to venture into restarants off the tourist trail. Everything seems organized for the trek.

Day 1

Picked up at my hotel at 445. Slept poorly the night before for fear of oversleeping. Hardly any hot water in shower. Arrive 3 bumpy hours later in Mollaparta. Have breakfast with 3 Germans (Benedikt, Rafeala, Max) and a Swiss German (Andy) who will be my trekmates. Our leader (or ¨fuhrer¨ as the Germans call him) calls himself Renato. Finish breakfast, and discover that my ¨stomach¨ is not feeling well. Oh boy, this might be a long trip.

One hour into the relatively easy hike, and I am very sick. Soroche (altitude sickness) and yesterday´s polla a la brassa have left me in bad shape. I can barely make it 50 meters without stopping to catch my breath or suppress the desire to throw up, etc. Group has to go on ahead of me. I wait for the horsemen to take my pack, but can´t keep up with them either. Get a little lost in the Peruvian bush...izquierda o derecha? Mumble to some locals in bad spanish about a group that maybe past. Almost fall asleep while resting. Chest feels like I am breathing through a coffee straw. Struggle for three hours before the horseman comes back and picks me up with a pack horse for lunch. All I can stomach is a small apple and a helf a bowl of soup (sopas are quite good here in Peru). After lunch is much more of the same, can barely move at the camp site. Renato has to escort me down to base camp, but his conversation shortens the agony. Camp has no baños.

Altitude (in meters)
Starting: 2800
Ending: 3700
Highest: 3900

Distance: 25 kms

Day 2

Stomach issues not much better, but the vomit reflex has calmed when exhausted. Drinking lots of coca tea, not much help. Halfway through the morning hike the skies open up. My pants are soaked because my rain pants are with my bag and I gave my poncho to Andy, who brought no rain gear. Soroche is marginally better, I can hike slowly for 15 minute intervals. Andy is sick now, too. And wet. After lunch, Renato politely tells me I need to keep up. The Pass is grueling. The good news is that I feel so bad that I don´t notice my muscles hurting. Salkantay mountain is snowcapped and beautiful. Still hardly any appetite. Finish the day at another ¨capsite¨(read: field) but at least I keep up in the afternoon. Camp is snug between two snocapped peaks and I am awestruck by it in the morning.

Altitude (in meters)
Starting: 3700
Ending: 3500
Highest: 4600 (the Pass)

Distance: 28 kms

Day 3

Much easier day, all downhill. Scenery rapidly turns from mountain to jungle. I not only keep up, but lead for much of the day! Soroche is under control with the descent. Stomach is much better. Beautiful valleys full of rivers roaring with glacial runoff. Moutainfolk in colorful clothes who speak Spanish as a second language frequntly pass us in the other direction. Finally can enjoy the food. Spend the night in a basecamp with running water and cold beer for sale (!). Also start to get to know the Germans as I can finally hike and talk at the same time. Andy is hurting badly, and Max´s bum knee is hell on downhills.

Altitude (in meters)
Starting: 3500
Ending: 2200
Highest: 3500

Distance: 16 kms

Day 4

Actually hike an Inca Trail. The traditional Inca Trail is the path taken into Machu Picchu by the commoners of Inca times. There is a separate path that is partially restored that leads to MP. Pretty amazing uphill trek on stones laid centuries ago. Get to know Jack, a San Francisco resident who is hiking the same trail as us. His friend Walter had a case of soroche and is at hospital. At the top of the mountain, we lose the Inca Trail because it is not yet fully restored to MP. Alternate trail takes us to Inca ruins with our first cross-canyon view of MP. Finish hiking for the day and take a train to Aguas Caliente, where we get real beds and hot showers. Happy Thanksgiving to me.

Altitude (in meters)
Starting: 2200
Ending: 3200
Highest: 2200

Distance: 16 kms

Day 5

Get up at 4 for uphill hike to MP. Rafaela and I are almost pulling each other up the mountain. Only a 1 hour hike, but a tough start to the day. Watch sunrise hit Waynapicchu while llamas lounge nearby. Clear, with clouds nearby. It is as stunning as I imagined. Benedikt, Andy and I climb Waynapicchu. I lose them and meet Jack and Walter at the top after a one hour straight uphill 400 meter climb. It is Jack´s birthday, and they are enjoying a bottle of port with spectacular view of MP. Cheers, Jack. Climb back to MP with the Americans and the rain is falling and clouds have covered WP. Lucky us. The rain is falling so hard that I splurge to take the bus back to Aquas Caliente, to prepare for our final jounrey back to Cusco. On the train and bus back, the Germans and I agree that we need a proper night out. Discos in Cusco until 4:15. That´s a 24 day, friends.

And it was worth every bit of it.

Trekking Machu Picchu

This is my last entry until at least Friday night. For those of you in the US, have a very Happy Thanksgiving. Here is how I will be spending my holiday. Salut!

Heroine Andrea

Some time past, I was in Chincha with Luis and his betrothed, Andrea (that is Ahn-DRAY-ah, BTW). Andrea, or should I say Dr. Andrea, was on break from the local firehouse where she is required to volunteer weekends as part of her medical career. There was a stop in traffic on the Panamerica Sur, and as we passsed we realized that a rather serious accident has occured - a truck ran into a pole. A truck carrying propane tanks. We passed the accident, and Andrea used her cell to call the firehouse. Within minutes they arrived, and she jumped out of the car and into the anbulance, speeding away with the victim of this:



The guy was OK in the end, but it was very exciting. (To be honest, people drive like madmen down here, so I am surprised I have seen only one serious accident.)

Kudos to the ever heroic Andrea!

Pictures

These are all low resolution pics, but uploading full pics takes forever.

Here you are.

These are better quality, though.

Starting to Take Shape

Yesterday was a day of lounging around Cusco, sort of needing a day off from the overnight bus ride and trek. Spent much of the day trying to organize the rest of my trip. I had it all figured out until the five-day trek I was planning on leaving on on Monday became unavailable (that whole language barrier prevented a proper explanation for me). I was wandering Cusco at night, a little depressed because I was afraid I´d lost my only chance to hike to Machu Picchu. Alas, I strolled into the last trekking shop I found in Cusco (and there are plenty), and lo and behold they had just organized a trek leaving Monday. I booked it on the spot (after a bit of haggling), and now I´m off tomorrow at 0445 for a five-day trek into the Andes, the Jungle, and Macchu Picchu. (Note: this is not the famed Inca Trail, but an alternative trek and I am totally fine with that.)

I get back around 8 pm Friday night, and I am planning on flying to Lima on Saturday. From there I think I´ll spend a couple of days in Huaraz exploring the Cordillera Blanca, and then a couple of days up North in Trujillo. From there I plan to bus back to Lima, then off for 5 days in the jungle. That is, unless things change, which they probably will.

***

Today is election day across Peru for local and regional offices. Yesterday, the entire country is supposed to be dry so that everyone shows up to vote on Election Sunday. (Citizens are fined if they fail to go to the polls.) Found an Irish-English bar (is there an appreciable difference?) that made everyone drink their beers out of coffee mugs. Go Democracy!

Another odd thing about this bar? A six pack holder with this on it was hanging behind the bar. Soy de Cleveland, cerveza de Cleveland!

Sort of Cheating, But...

Check out the photos from Chris, my trekmate last week.

The Trek and Onward

I was picked up at my place of accomodation at 6 am on Wednesday, then put on a local bus for the 6 hour journey through the Andes to Cabaconde (on roads largely unpaved). I slept through much of it, as did Chris, an Englishman also on the trek who was sitting next to me. We arrived in Cabacaconde, had lunch, and headed down into the canyon. There were 2 more travelers on the trek, an American woman named Sarah and a German girl called Anya. We were led by Maria, a fearless five-foot nothing Peruvian guide with limited English skills. I noticed the altitude immediately, and have to say that downhill hiking shouldn´t be so grueling.



After stopping at the Colca river after the three hour decent, we climbed back up the other side of the canyon for a spell until we reached our village where we were to spend the night. After dinner and a game of @sshole with some other trekkers (that game has more rule nuances than one can imagine), we were in bed ready for another day in (and back out of the canyon). The second day hiking through the world´s second-deepest canyon, we passed through several more mountain villages, one with a seventeenth century church built by the Spanish conquistadors and still in operation. We eventually setteled at a place known as the Oasis, a group of huts with a grassy knoll and a swimming hole. I took a siesta after lunch, and we spent the rest of the afternoon chatting with other backpackers poolside, and later by the fire. Early to bed were we, however, for our trek out of the Colca Canyon began at 2:30 am. A grueling, 3 1/2 hour assent of switchbacks, we learned that our trip wasn´t nearly as difficult as some of the other travelers: two of the guides got drunk at the Oasis, and one passed out (after throwing up) half-way up the hill. Fortunately, Maria was in bed at 9 like the rest of our group. We arrived back at Cabaconde, then took a bus to a pass overlooking the canyon, where we watched condors and eagles soar overhead. Another short bus ride led us to small resort outside of Chivay, where we soaked our tired bodies in a hot spring. We then had a snack in the train station (alpaca turnover), and rode the bumpy Peruvian roads back to Arequipa.

I had a few pints with Chris after collecting my belongings, and got on an 8 pm overnight coach to Cusco (sitting next to a Peruvian woman and her 2 year old on her lap, not fun). Cusco is breathtaking - both from its scenery and thin air. I am trying to arrange another trek in the Andes, and a trip to Machu Picchu, so I have my work cut out for my today.

***

If I hear "My Humps" or "Hips Don´t Lie" one more time I am going to cry.

Knackered

I climbed 1100 meters this morning. A really great experience but I am too tired for details right now. I will check in tomorrow from Cusco. Have a great weekend.

Peruvian Details

Peruvians never seem to have change.

The guys who work in the tourist info both - to say nothing of the cab drivers - don´t even speak ´tourist English.´ Good thing Spanish is pretty easy, because I´d be screwed otherwise.

The beer really good here. The glasses that they serve it with are perfectly shaped to give it just the right amount of foam. The beers are all good, but are also all in the same style so they don´t taste all that different.

Off to bed, I am leaving at 6 for the canyon.

Patches, You Ruined My Day

My father is allergic to dogs, cats, Christmas trees and pollen, among other things. As a result, as a child I grew up with both an artificial tree on 12/25 and a lack of felines or canines in the home. However, with 6 kids in the house, several of us were bound to want to get pets of some sort. Mice, birds, fish and lizards all made their way into various rooms of Casa Smyczek over the years, but perhaps our most endearing pet was "Patches," a guinea pig that we purchased from a shopping mall pet store. Shortly after Patches purchase (or "adoption" if you are the PETA-type), she gave birth to three young rodents, which forever endeared her into our hearts.

Guinea pig, in Peru, is simply known as "cuy." See, the Incas and other indigineous people have been enjoying roast and fried guinea pig for centuries. I´m all about consuming the local specialty, so I spent a dollar on a taxi to head to a restaurant east of central Arequipa that is knows for its cuy. A very pleasant space, with a band playing inside and a brezy courtyard, I say down for my first cuy. I opened the menu, and...they don´t debone or behead the little guys. They just take off their skin and hair, throw ´em on a frying pan with a rock on top of them, flip it, and serve. I mean, you could make out every detail of the little guy.



I tried drinking my pisco sour quickly, but when I returned to that photo of fried guinea pig, I just couldn´t, couldn´t, couldn´t EAT PATCHES. So I had cow´s feet stew instead, which was actually muy delicioso.

I´m off tomorow for a three-day trek in the Colca Canyon from here in Arequipa (which is a lovely place, puts Lima to shame). I get back Friday night, and then I´m off on an overnight bus to Cusco.

Pisco, Nasa and on to Arequipa

I awoke Saturday morning to the bustle of workers at Casa de Peschiera. The wedding reception will be held at the house on the farm, and workers are busy preparing the house for its 300(!) wedding guests. Luis and I ran some errands in Chincha, and had brunch at an amazing restaurant (next to a gas station) in Chincha called El Batan. Luis´s mother used to tell people regularly that the best way to ensure a clean kitchen was to allow the customers to see it. Among those she told was the man who would go on to open El Batan, and its immaculate kitchen is on display for any who dine there. Order the Chicharron if you ever make it there.

After a night in Chincha, Luis, Andrea and I ran some errands in and around Chincha. Their wedding ceremony will be held in a church the next town over, and we visited this town in the heart of Peru´s Afro-Peruvian community to drop off some paperwork for their wedding. The church is a beautiful colonial building right on the town´s Plaza de Armas, and we even had the pleasure of watching a danceoff between four young Peruvians (for the bargain price of a few soles).

From there we went to Pisco, where I booked a trip to the Islas Ballestas and Paracas National Reserve and got a hotel room. Luis, Andrea and I dined at a Cevicheria in Pisco, and then I was finally on my own in Peru. I ended up at a disco with the Peruvian guys who work in the tour office, which was pretty fun but made getting up for the 730 tour a little rough.

The Islas Ballestas (Crossbow Islands) are commonly referred to as "the Poor Man´s Galapagos," and are a breathtaking set of rocks inhabited by seals, seabirds and penguins. En route, there is an island with an ancient candelabra carved in a sandy hill, thought to be an ancient homage to the cactus that grown in the coastal desert of Peru. One of the more interesting parts of the tour was meeting a German girl on the tour who is a real life archaeologist and spent the past half year in Bolivia excavating a site in the jungle lowland. The tour continued to the Paracas reserve, and I caught an early evening bus to Nazca.

This morning I took a gut wrenching flight in a single engine Cesna over the Nazca lines. A series of images drawn across the desert floor over a thousand years ago, they are a mysterious and awe-inspiring sight. The tour continued to the Chauchilla Cemetary, a collection of underground tombs containing remnants of Nazca people, wrapped in thousand year old clothes, patiently sitting up in a fetal position, maize and sweet potatoes by their side.

I´ve got several hours to kill in (very hot) Nazca, then I´m off to Arequipa on an overnight bus. I´m hoping to do some hiking in canyons and check out the mountains.

Preview: A life saving call and ambulance ride on the Panamerican Highway. Coming in a later post.

Note: I think I left my camera cord in Lima, so I don´t imagine I´ll have any photos for a week or so. Go to Google Images and check out the Nazca (Nasca) Lines though, very cool. And no, space aliens did not build them!

Off to Chincha

Southern Peru, here I come!

San Francisco Solano

There is a small monestary behind a church in Central Lima that is being resotred by a Puerto Rican Franciscan priest. I managed to get a tour of the place (Lima is definitely about who you know, it is normally off limits to the public). In the last 30 years or so 3 different car bombs were set off near the monestary, leaving it in ruins. It´s being painstakingly restoted by the good priest. His work is pretty amazing and it´s really a nice place inside. (He intends to turn it into a retreat center for youth.) Anway, after the bombs he discovered that San Francisco Solano was interred in a small chapel in the monastery. He pulled back a rug, and there was the crypt.

What´s facinating about Francisco Solano is his means of converting the locals. He didn´t speak Quechua, so he listened in to their songs from nearby. After time, he learned to play the tunes on his violin, an instrument totally foreign to the natives.

Pisco Sour

The pisco sour is the national drink of Peru. Pisco is a liquor made from grapes, and it is also drunk straight here. (This weekend I should make it to a pisco bodega where they make the stuff). Legend has it that a barman at a small eatery in Central Lima found that many tourists couldn´t handle straight pisco. So, he created the famous pisco sour. Luis insits the perfect recipe is LAPA: lima (never limon!), azucar, pisco and agua (ice). The amusing thing is that the drink took off all around the country. What´s even more amusing is the same legend has it that the guy who created the drink of Peru was a Briton.

The small eatery is called Criollo, and I´m happy to say I had my first pisco sour in Peru in its legendary birthplace. Cheers, from Julio and I in Lima!

Juilio

I have made it to Peru. This keyboard is worse than those in Iceland.

Luis´s office manager arranged to hire me a car and driver for the last couple of days in Lima. I´ve seen all the major sights, and photos will follow lately. Julio is a very nice man, but his English is only slightly better than my Spanish, so communication has been an interesting adventure. Today we went to see a horse show outside Lima and the ruins at Pachacamac. Julio is funny because he insists on conducting all of my transactions for me, from picking what I want on the menu and ordering to finding me a computer here at this internet cafe.

Leaving

I'm on my way. Check for substantive postings soon!

Checklist?

What am I forgetting?

Bienvenidos

Hey Everybody,

You have probably found this from my other blogs or from a mass email, and this will be the location for updates from my trip to Peru. I'll try to blog early and blog often to give each of you a few minutes a week to waste. Thanks for stopping by and please comment!