Salar de Spectacular

We loved the Salar de Uyuni in southern Bolivia. It was the perfect adieu to a wonderful country and wonderful 2 months spent exploring its diverse boundaries. In a matter of three days we saw vast salt plains, colorful lagoons in majestic landscapes, desert rock formations, an island of giant cactuses, crater moon geysers, and an endless display of nature. Few words can describe our excitement.

Check out all of our Uyuni pics at http://juicycat.smugmug.com/gallery/3910432#226912002

This post is super old. We visited the Salar at the end of November right before crossing the border into Chile.

Menacing Men of Mancora

Day 1, 11/26
San Pedro, Chile to Arica, Chile
12 hour night bus

Day 2, 11/27
Arrive Arica, Chile
2 hour cab ride across the border to Tacna, Peru
5 hour layover in Tacna
Tacna to Lima
20 hour night bus

Day 3, 11/28
Lima

Day 4, 11/29
Lima to Chiclayo
12 hour night bus

Day 5, 11/30
Chiclayo

Day 6, 12/1
Chiclayo to Piura
3 hour evening bus to Piura

Day 7, 12/2
Piura

Day 8, 12/3
Piura to Mancora
2 hour taxi ride to Mancora

After our taxing week getting from Bolivia to Chile to northern Peru, we decided to stop our backpacking ways, book a week at the beach, and relax. Mancora is Peru´s ONLY decent beach with sun and sand. It´s just a step up from the Jersey Shore but it was a welcome change from wool hats and gloves and 20 hour night buses.

Although the heat was exactly what we wanted, Mancora quickly showed its true colors. Mostly Mancora´s men showed their predatory teeth. We´ve dealt with extremely inappropriate behavior and verbal propositions. The men here have a complete sense of entitlement and show no restraint.

Even worse, last night while talking to a French couple staying at our hostel we found out that they were mugged at gunpoint at 1:30pm while walking on the beach. Strangely enough, I went walking by myself yesterday morning to explore the south end of the beach. I walked south for about an hour, jumped in the ocean for a dip, sat at an isolated spot in the sand, and then walked back. When I was just 10 minutes from our hostel I ran into the French couple, waved hello to them, and then continued to walk to the hostel. Well, just seconds after I passed them three guys who I had noticed sitting nearby walked up to them, showed them a gun, and robbed them of a camera, jewelry, and cash. At 1:30 in the afternoon at a spot very close to the main drag! The Frenchies were quite calm about the whole situation but it freaked us out. Rather than stay until Monday as planned we will leave this weekend. Luckily I was alone because I´m sure if Catherine and I were together we would have been mugged instead. With my dark tan I think I was able to blend in and look Peruvian.

After Mancora, we get to enjoy another week of bus hell. We have to cross from Peru to Ecuador, the entire country of Ecuador, and then to Bogota. It´s only worthwhile because we get to see the lovely Rees family in just a few days!

Bolivian Blue Light Special is Now Over

Within minutes of crossing the nondescript desert border into Chile we were on a paved road. Neatly painted lines on the road kept our truck on the right hand side and bright signs clearly directed us towards San Pedro de Atacama. We hadn´t experienced that level of advancement since we drove to JFK on the morning of August 29th.


San Pedro didn´t disappoint with its 2nd world offerings. Information was readily available at every juncture and people actually practiced proactive customer service. The first hotel we visited had no vacancy so the owner called another hotel in town and made reservations for us. This being a "service" she volunteered.

Unfortunately, these luxuries came at a price. Chile is expensive! Compared to the blue light special that is Bolivia, Chile was like shopping at Neiman Marcus...well, more like Macy´s. Our cheap hotel was $20, a bottle of water was $2, a sandwich was $5, the internet $2 per hour, and our bus out of town was $30 each. (The bus did have actual leg room, a functioning toilet, air-conditioning, snacks, and an aisle free of bodies and bundles.)

Chile´s cost meant we received our entrance stamp on the 25th and exit stamp on the 27th. Our two days were well worth it. We biked for a day in the very hot and beautiful Valle de la Luna. We saw salt canyons, sand dunes, crater formations, rock formations, and tons of sand. Being on our own, feeling completely safe, enjoying real heat, and the peaceful isolation were absolutely perfect.


We are accepting donations for our return to lovely Chile.

"Thanks, but I´m not looking for a husband."

Geared up for my visit to the mine with dynamite in hand.

I arrived to Potosi alone. After two and a half months of travel, Catherine and I decided to take real space, lest we drive each other crazy. She stayed an extra day reading and relaxing in Sucre, and I headed to Potosi to visit the mines.

Before embarking on our trip I did not know much about Bolivia, but I knew about Potosi and its famous Cerro Rico. The silver mine deposits made the Spanish rich while the land and the people were grossly exploited. Although silver has long been exhausted, the Cerro Rico still has abundant deposits of tin and zinc. 15,000 miners continue to work in harsh conditions that kill many due to accidents and premature illnesses. The miners are organized in autonomous cooperatives that pay taxes to the federal government for access to the mountain. The government provides no services or regulations to the miners. Each cooperative has from 50 to 500 members. They pay dues to the cooperative to pay for the salary of the cooperative president, to contribute to social security and retirement, and to help with the upkeep of the mine. Miners begin working as young as 14 as trolley pushers and can work until they are alive and healthy. They commonly retire in their late 30s.

I visited the mine with a sweet German couple and the very knowledgeable yet arrogant and machista ex-miner, Julio Cesar. Immediately upon entering the mine I knew that the conditions were not meant for humans. For the first 300m I had to crouch down to half my size and sprint in the wet darkness. The opening was about 1m at its widest with trolley tracks occupying the center. Every thirty seconds or so I had to press my body against the side of the mine so that miners could exit the mines with their trolleys full of minerals and debris. Dust and chemicals hung densely in the air making it extremely difficult to see and nearly impossible to breathe.

The miners wore helmets and rubber boots but regular clothing and no face masks. They chewed coca leaves and even smoked cigarettes during breaks. I was surprised as they laughed and joked and carried on like buddies at the local bar. On the last Friday of the month they even drink all night in the mine giving offerings to el Tio, keeper of the underworld of the mine. Their syncretic practices involving paying respect to el Tio with offerings and prayers. He is said to protect them and bring them luck. He represents the fertile masculine demon of the underworld and his revered counterpart is the fertile feminine goddess of the earth, Pachamama.

Miner taking a break with us

El Tio

We spent over three hours in the mine meeting the miners and working hard to stay out of their way. The all male environment harbored a hypermasculine and sexualized culture that objectified women and demeaned the feminine (including gay men). I was constantly asked my name, age, and relationship status. This attention was garnered while wearing my very non-sexy rubber outfit in a space with dust and chemicals so thick that one could hardly see. After the tour Julio Cesar took us to a small room where five miners sat around a metal tool and celebrated its acquisition. They were to use the tool the following evening to remove moisture from a tunnel they had recently discovered in the mine. The celebration meant heavy drinking of 96% liquor that resembles rubbing alcohol and heaps of coca leaf chewing. We sat with the very drunk and female "friendly" miners for over two hours as they aggressively proposed for me to stay in Bolivia and pick a Bolivian miner for a husband. An interesting experience, but one I was happy to end.

Happy 3 Month Anniversary!

Catherine and I celebrated our 3 month travel anniversary yesterday in exactly the same place where we started our adventure - Lima, Peru. We were so ecstatic to be back in Lima and to indulge in real luxuries. Upon getting to Lima we went immediately to Vivanda - the Whole Foods of Lima. We got wonderful produce and desserts and wine. All this in a clean space with delicious aromas. We also had the most awesome ceviche ever!

After three months of a completely nonexistent gay social life we immediately found info on a gay bar in Miraflores having its weekly girl night. Woo-hoo! We went on a crazy five hour shopping spree, got done up in our new outfits, and headed out to feel liberated. Luckily BoBo Bar was super close to our hostel and it was not shady at all. Unfortunately, we were two of only four girls there. Ha! There were two straight couples engaged in heavy making out sessions and that´s about it. We had a great time getting drunk and thinking about how much we will enjoy our return to Philly and NYC gay life. The night ended with Catherine badly spraining her ankle running down the steps at McDonald´s. That´s our own story :)

We have since left Lima and our now quickly making our way up the Panamerican Highway to Bogota. Our goal is to make it there by December 15th. We decided today that we are sooooo ready for Bogota and Christmas and family and friends and that we are sooooo done with buses. Rather than backpack and explore northern Peru, tomorrow we head to the beach resort town of Mancora. We´ll ¨vacation¨ there for a few days and then we´ll head to the valley of longevity in Ecuador before making our final bus stretch from Quito to Bogota.

Although we miss all of you...we just do not want to end our adventure. In just three months we have experienced so many new things. It´s just incredible. Every morning I awake with a huge smile on my face knowing that we´re super lucky and that there is still so much more to live! I do hope some of you come to visit to share this with us.

My apologies for the blog. We´ve been moving super fast in the past few weeks so I´m terribly behind on posts but I plan on updating you with stories on Potosi, the Salar de Uyuni, and Chile in the next few days. I did have a chance to upload all our pictures so check them out.

Samaipata and Parque Nacional Amboro - ttp://juicycat.smugmug.com/gallery/3909186#226832048

Parque Nacional Torotoro -
http://juicycat.smugmug.com/gallery/3909261#226839077

Sucre -
http://juicycat.smugmug.com/gallery/3909236#226833574

Cordillera de las Frailes -
http://juicycat.smugmug.com/gallery/3909390#226841921

Mercado de Tarabuco -
http://juicycat.smugmug.com/gallery/3909403#226843106

Potosi y Las Minas -
http://juicycat.smugmug.com/gallery/3909426#226844923

Salar de Uyuni -
http://juicycat.smugmug.com/gallery/3910432#226912002

Valle de la Luna, Chile -
http://juicycat.smugmug.com/gallery/3910496#226912552

A Little Help From My Ivy League Friend

After being quoted an exorbitant $200 per person to visit rural communities in the Cordillera de las Frailes, we decided to go out on our own. Six weeks in Bolivia gave us the confidence to pack our bags with the bare essentials, hop on the local bus, and secretly hope that we would be OK.

The most difficult thing in Bolivia is getting accurate information. This is due to various reasons: things change constantly, locals have no real sense of what goes on around them, locals are terribly wary of tourists, or locals could care less about tourists. To gather information one has to poll at least five people in the hopes that maybe two will give a similar response or will point in a similar direction. Catherine frequently alludes to the "rational" response. I have found that to be mostly nonexistent. For example, if it is a rational choice to catch a bus at the bus terminal, my six weeks of "experience" tells me that the bus departs from some random corner at the opposite end of town. Unfortunately, the Lying Planet does not help.

For our adventure I felt quite confident because all the people I polled gave me the same information about our local bus and its departure time and location. Our first collectivo out of the center of Sucre took us too far past the bus stop but we quickly hopped off, hopped on another, and were at the stop in no time. We arrived an hour early and the bus was already bursting at the seams. I walked on first and immediately I whiffed the strong smell of coca leaves and sweat. The people were campesinos heading to their very remote homes in the mountains. Their faces were dark with sun and grit. They looked up towards us, their timid nature never actually allowing for eye contact, and I smiled gleefully knowing that we may not get seats. The aisle was packed with bags, babies, and bodies. Standing for two hours on a very unsteady bus on a dirt road would be horribly uncomfortable and unsafe. We got off and I went looking for the driver in hopes of getting some special tourist treatment. I spoke to maybe five supposed drivers who were all quite intent on overcharging me and providing me no help. I finally found the bus attendant and he secured us two very decent seats. Catherine sat with the locals in the back and I shared the front cab with the driver, a cholita, a pedagogical researcher, and the bus attendant.
Yes, a pedagogical researcher. I met Elvis while waiting to board the bus. He was on assignment in the region to assess the progress of student learning in the very remote towns in the Cordillera. He was taking the bus three hours to Potolo, the last stop, and then walking for five hours to his central post. Remote. Kids walk up to five hours to get to school and another five hours to return home. Based on his assessments he makes recommendations to the Bolivian government to receive more resources and implement new programs to improve learning. He also works closely with the families in the community aiming to change cultural attitudes about the importance of education.

Elvis and the rest of my front cab companions were very entertaining and sort of helpful with information on our stop. We got off at Chaunaca with two local women who were also doing the three hour walk to Maragua. They nervously giggled wondering what we were doing in the middle of nowhere all on our own. After twenty minutes of walking we came to a river that was too high to pass. We waited like the locals and soon we hopped in the back of a truck and crossed the river. The workers and the women laughed when we jumped off the truck and declined the ride to Maragua opting to walk instead. We like to pretend to be the common people.

The walk to Maragua was easy and pleasant. The horrible mist and rain of the morning totally cleared and the beautiful mountain scenery kept us company. We made it to Maragua by early afternoon and immediately started our search for Don Basileo, resident in charge of the community based cabanas available for tourists. We had read that back in 2001 the rural communities of the Frailes decided to proactively embrace tourism. With the help of a government agency they learned about the tourism industry and constructed the cabanas using traditional building methods and materials. We were very excited about directly supporting local initiatives towards economic autonomy. Since Don Basileo was the only resident in town with a phone his house was easy to spot because it a had a huge telephone sign outside. He proved to be elusive. No one answered his door, the lady across the dirt path told me she didn't know a Don Basileo, and further down the path at the school I was told he was out in the fields and we would have to wait.

While sitting on Don Basileo's front stoop the school kids were dismissed and they found great delight in our presence. They giggled, snickered, and pointed. Some would muster up the courage to respond to our hellos while most nervously ran past. A few kids hung around Don Basileo's house until finally they overcame their fear and ventured inside the house. "Hola, esta Don Basileo?" The little girl answered, "No, mi papa esta in Sucre. Regresa el domingo." Shit, it was Thursday and it was already 4pm. Her true precocious nature quickly emerged and she volunteered that Don Roberto down the path was in charge of the cabanas while her dad was gone. "Gracias!" Off I went to find the even more elusive Don Roberto. Everything in Maragua was on the same dirt path that was about three blocks long, yet up and down I walked looking for Don Roberto's house. I asked locals for help finding Don Roberto, but children responded with requests for candy and adults with offers to sell their textiles.

Almost two hours after arriving in Maragua I found the toothless coca leaf chewing Don Roberto and the keys to the cabanas. In his Quechua Spanish hybrid he set us up and explained that we would have dinner prepared by a local woman. No electricity, no water, and no firewood didn't matter because we were finally in from the cold and had a comfy bed to crash on.

The following morning Don Roberto started us off on our day long hike to Potolo, the next small village on the community based tourist circuit. For four hours we climbed one steep hill after the other. By the time we made it to the dinosaur tracks we were quite pooped. Roberto lead us to the "well defined" trail to Potolo and in his pseudo-Spanish pointed out the village in the distance. We paid him and parted ways.

Thirty minutes into our solo hike we foolishly decided to walk off the road and take a "shortcut". Very soon after we found ourselves smack in the middle of mountains and ravines. Dark grey clouds hovered above us and the loud roar of thunder accompanied intense winds that made it difficult to even hear each other. Panic set in, a small argument ensued, and we realized we were totally lost. The village that had been so easily distinguishable just thirty minutes earlier was now possibly one of two villages we could spot far away past many more mountains and ravines. We struggled up steep mountains and practically slid down precarious loose dirt ravines. We were both incredibly scared. We were lucky that it was still early in the afternoon but we knew the looming storm would be dangerous given the terrain. We continued up and down for over an hour when Catherine noticed a red truck in the horizon - the road! We decided to hike down to the dried up riverbed guessing that it would eventually lead us to the road. Luckily we were right and within 45 minutes we could see the road and the first sighting of a person since leaving Don Roberto. Excitedly I approached the boy on the riverbank loading his donkeys with goods. He saw me coming and nervously tried to walk away. "Hola! Estes el camino a Potolo?" He shyly turned to face me with his Harvard sweatshirt and answered, "Si." The most prestigious bastion of American education advertised right there in the middle of nowhere on a twelve year boy loading his donkey.

Within thirty minutes and after seven tough hours of hiking we finally made it to Potolo, the supposed more "advanced" of the local villages. I looked for the Professor in charge of the cabanas and of course found that he was in Sucre. Some random cholita was instructed to take me to Lenora, the second in command. Lenora turned out to be a very childish twenty-five year who giggled and snickered and told me the cabanas were fully occupied.

Occupied? We were the only two crazy tourists in the dirt patch doubling as a town. I told her I wanted to see the cabanas and when we arrived she half explained that engineers were occupying the rooms and that there was only one available room in a cabana that we would have to share. She also told me that the kitchen was locked and that no one had the key. For this great service she wanted to charge the same price we paid the previous night. "Hell no!" I offered her half the price and she flatly refused. I told her I would sleep in the church and she told me the priest was in Sucre. I told her I would sleep in the school and she told me it was closed until Monday. I walked the dirt patch of a town thinking bad thoughts of hurting Lenora. I finally had the idea to suggest that we would only need to occupy one bed therefore "justifying" half the price. Finally, an agreement. We went to sleep after a lovely meal of crackers and water.
The next morning we quickly booked it out of Potolo. We were very lucky to get seats on the bus. For three hours I talked to a very friendly old man a curious ten year old. They were fascinated with the war in Iraq, the "reality" of American movies, and the riches of the US. At one point the old man half jokingly offered to sell me his baby nephew.

We were very happy to return to Sucre, check into our very comfortable hotel room, wash off three days of soot, and appreciate our luxuries. We decided to put hiking on hold for a while.

We Love Previas, We Love Cochabamba

Our trip to Parque Nacional Torotoro almost didn´t happen.

We arrived to Cochabamba happy to leave the heat and blandness of Santa Cruz. It was 6am and we left the bus station on what has become our normal trajectory upon arrival to a new city - get from the bus station to the plaza, walk with 30lb+ backpacks searching for adequate housing (we usually walk to at least three different places), secure a room, find a cheap lavanderia, eat, and explore. At 6am with 30lb packs and nowhere to go Cochabamba was quite dumpy. At 10am, freshly showered and with checklist complete, Cochabamba quickly became our favorite city.

The city was vibrant with its very own peaceful culture. It was certainly not overrun by backpackers or other tourists therefore people were not pushy or shady. It had a perfect combination of cholitas, students, street vendors, and professionals. The market near our hostel had beautiful produce and an endless of array of treats. The weather was absolutely perfect. Warm and sunny during the day and breezy during the evenings. We found a real movie theater, healthy food, and plenty of wide streets to do people watching. We were very excite about Cochabamba.

We were also excited that we had planned our arrival perfectly in order to get the one weekly collectivo to Torotoro. Unfortunately, the evening before our departure I got a killer fever and intense body aches. By midnight I knew I wouldn´t be able to make the 4am wake up call for the 6am departure. We were totally bummed. We didn´t have time to wait another week for the collectivo and Torotoro had been a must see for us. The following morning, while I sulked in bed feeling sick and sorry for myself, Catherine went to a local travel agency and in her much improved Spanish she booked us a three day tour to Torotoro. By the next morning I was no longer sick and a beautiful white Previa picked us up for our adventure. We were off!

Torotoro certainly was not a disappointment but certainly not without its challenges. On our way there, our trustful Previa had to "off-road" past mounds of rocks and dirt that were piled practically in the middle of the road. Evo´s assistance to rural communities has been very evident during our travels and in Torotoro there was work on improving the quality of the road. Good for the future, bad for us. We had to get out of the Previa, move big rocks out of the way, push the Previa, and then repeat at the next mound. I can´t believe the Previa didn´t die on us.

The mounds in the middle of the road:

The trusty Previa working hard:

We eventually made it Umaljanta, an underground river in a cave. Catherine and a Belgian tour mate Leen, hungout outside of the cave due to their claustrophobia, and I ventured in with our enthusiastic guides Felix and Eddie and three other travelers, Stefan, Hans, and Ana. The cave was spectacular. We rappelled down ropes, crawled through tiny spaces, got wet, saw stalagmites and stalactites, and totally bonded. Loved it!

Small spelunking spaces:
The following day we saw tons of dinosaur footprints. It was crazy to see real evidence of dinosaurs out in nature. It is one thing seeing dinosaur bones in a fancy museum or detailed illustrations in a book, but to see real live prints. We were very impressed. We then trekked to a huge canyon in the mountain range and found a lush waterfall at the bottom of the canyon were we splashed and bathed. Our trip with Felix and Eddie was a totally different experience than with pain in the bum Martin. They were knowledgeable, respectful, involved, and enthusiastic. In the evening we saw a completely dark night sky full of thousands of twinkling stars sharing the stage with intense lightning storms in the horizon. Beautiful.

Huge footprints could be seen all around Torotoro:

Our trip was almost totally perfect other than for the kamikaze driving of our Previa chauffeur. On the way home we actually almost drove right off the cliff. Most drivers here are crazy, but this one had no sense of shifting gears or of rounding curves. It didn´t help that he also probably couldn´t see very well. We all got out, yelled at him, and crossed our fingers that we would make it back alive. Luckily, the Previa prevailed.
Happy Turkey Day!!

Thank Goodness for Canadians

Enjoying Parque Nacional Amboro

"First class?"

Getting to Santa Cruz was the culmination of our longest and most difficult bus rides to date.

After our vacation in Coroico we took a 15 hour night bus to Rurrenabaque. The ride was on a very narrow dirt road with mountains to one side and sheer drops to the other. Thankfully the full moon provided welcome light for the treacherous route. Quite often the bus would stop, assess the situation, slowly maneuver its way back, and let another vehicle squeeze by. This was done to the loud chorus of agitated locals screaming at the driver to hurry up claiming that there was ample space for our bus. This made it difficult to get any real sleep. Luckily the bus provided ample leg room (it surely pays to be short in Latin America) and the road was not as bad as we had anticipated.

A few days later we bused it from Rurrenabaque to Trinidad. Another 12 hours, another dirt road. We bought our bus tickets and were told to be at the bus stop by 10pm because our bus was to depart between 10 and 10:30pm. In the dark we trekked to with our packs to the stop and we waited. And waited. And waited. Our bus arrived at 1:30am. By the time we departed at 2:10am we were absolutely exhausted. Unfortunately the next 6 hours were the worst stretch of road we have experienced. That meant no sleep and taking care of a belly sick Catherine. At our 6am stop, while others enjoyed tea and empanadas, I had Immodium for breakfast and Catherine had a barf. The next 8 hours were decent by Bolivian bus standards. The road conditions improved slightly and we only had the locals to deal with. A woman sat quite close to us that was not only loud and obnoxious but too overweight to allow for space for her three year old to share a seat with her. The poor kid sat on a duffle bag in the aisle for the entire 12 hours. I think he slept sitting up.

Our layover in Trinidad was for several hours and we were very lucky to secure a really nice hotel room with private bath and cable TV for just 10 bolivianos ($1.25). We showered, slept, watched TV, and then left Trinidad as quickly as we had arrived. Oh, the luxury of a fully paved road and a short 10 hour night bus to Santa Cruz.

"Autonomia Si"

Santa Cruz is Bolivia´s largest and wealthiest city. It differs so much from the rest of the country that it recently voted for political autonomy. Throughout the city you see white people driving around in expensive SUVs with pro-Santa Cruz stickers, signs, and flags. We found Santa Cruz to be a bore. We were actually looking forward to the upscale offerings of the city but they were hidden far from the center in securely gated communities. We quickly headed to Samaipata, a small town three hours west of Santa Cruz.

Yummy ice cream in the Plaza in Samaipata

"Howdy!"

Samaipata seemed to be what we wanted. A very small village with a flower and art filled plaza, healthy organic food, and a local population not overridden by poverty. We stumbled upon a peach festival in the plaza and had breakfast at an organic farm where your food is picked after you place your order. Unfortunately, after about a day disturbing signs began to appear. While walking, I saw a black Hummer pass by the plaza. Sunny skies allowed us to see the huge and tacky haciendas built by weekender Crucenos. Even worse, we discovered the largest contingent of expat Americans we have met to date. It seems that a bunch of super booney Texans with heavy twangs have recently relocated to Samaipata in hopes of making it big. We were lucky enough to meet Bill and Denise, proprietors of La Casa Blanca, yes, The White House. They chain smoked, drank cheap beer, and trashed Bolivians - I suppose that helped them feel right at home.

"It was the best of times, it was the worse of times."

From Samaipata we ventured on a two day hike into Parque Nacional Amboro to see an enchanted fern cloud forest with our Dutch guide Martin and his Canadian friends Carol and Peter.

Martin, Carol, and Peter

Thank goodness that Carol and Peter were absolutely wonderful progressive country hippies from British Columbia because Martin was a real prick. During the first few hours of the hike I had to work very hard to convince Catherine not to rip him up. Albeit, he totally deserved it, I didn´t want to deal with an unpleasant two days in the middle of the woods.

Watch out Martin...She´s got a weapon and she will use it.

For over two hours our "well accomplished" guide complained that his pack was too heavy. He even considered giving some of his load to Catherine. He trashed the local guide that was with us saying that he was "full of bullshit." Mind you, the local guide and his family actually live inside of the park. He told us a bunch of "facts" that we later Googled and found to be completed incorrect. He didn´t bring enough water, complained about spiders, was upset that his pots weren´t washed properly after dinner, and was just a total idiot.

Luckily the wonderful company of Carol and Peter and the beauty of the forest made the hiking marvelous. We totally bonded with the Canadians talking politics, history, culture, gay rights, and travel. They´re actually traveling through Latin America on a motorcycle. Five years ago they traveled around the world on the motorcycle. We can wait to take them up on their offer to visit British Columbia and ski and hangout in the countryside. The fern forest was like a fairy tale forest. The first day was a bit wet and cold and we got to experience a lush and verdant ground cover under a tall canopy. Beautiful wild flowers, funky mushrooms, colorful lichens surrounded us and the abundant ferns. I half expected to spot knomes frolicking through the forest. Overall, Martin was defeated.

Crazy hair and an awesome time with the ferns

A Sighting

Is that Liz, Matt, and Nathan in Bolivia???

No Pampering in Las Pampas

Day 1:

It started with trying to get a cash advance from the lone bank in Rurre after a day when everything was closed. I had 30 minutes to maneuver the irate locals and the system, hoping to get money for our tour. Fast feet, begging, and a hefty bank fee got me the money and we were ready for departure.

The 3 hour ride in a Land Cruiser through lush jungle and savanna was beautiful but very bumpy. Even Catherine couldn't nap. She tried valiantly but the road conditions were conducive to looking out the window and hanging onto your butt cheeks.

Lunch was a cheap cut of deep fried beef, milanesa de carne they call it. I devoured my beans and rice and continued my newly found carnivorous selectivity. I just can´t bring myself to eating red meat here...although I don´t think I could eat deep fried beef anywhere. To my surprise, Catherine ate her milanesa de carne but was grossed out by her beans. Luckily, neither of use was sick the next day.

After lunch our group hopped on a small wooden boat and enjoyed 3 hours of heat, mosquitoes, heat, and mosquitoes. We also spotted colorful birds, turtles, alligators, and pink dolphins. Even though tour groups come through daily, the wildlife is extremely abundant. However, mosquitoes do win the prize as the most prolific inhabitants of the pampas.

Day 2:

Torrential downpour. We woke up, dressed, ate, and waited. The rainy season has arrived. After an hour the rain slowed and we ventured out with our galoshes and rain jackets in search of anacondas.

The 1st hour was a blast. We got wet and dirty and felt like kids playing in the rain. The pampas were vast and verdant green. Below us was water up to our knees and lots of mud. Luckily the sun hid behind the clouds and not able to spoil our fun.

By the 2nd hour our futile search for anacondas got really old. By the point we were drenched and puddles of water and mud sat at the bottom of our boots. Swarms of mosquitoes hovered all around. I´ve actually never seen predatory mosquitoes like these that set up camp on people. Marc, a French guy we had met a few days earlier, walked in front of me and had used no repellent. His face, neck, and ears were covered with mosquitoes and a rotating colony of about 50 to 100 hungout on his back working hard to penetrate his rain jacket. They wanted blood and they had us outnumbered.

We ended up walking for over 3 hours. Yeah, we saw an anaconda. I think it was planted there by the guides. Catherine found the whole spectacle inhumane and ridiculous. We were happy to return to camp and find refuge in our mosquito nets.

Day 3:

Startled, I awoke in the middle of the night. Immediately the itching began and I noticed a new collection of mosquito bites all over my lower bum and lower back. A mosquito got into my net and took advantage of my heat-fighting pajama outfit of panties and a t-shirt. Not good. I got my head lamp and tried in vain to find the culprit in my small twin bed. I resealed my mosquito net and tried to sleep again. The victorious mosquito tormented me for at least another hour. I finally had to leave my mosquito net and search for my backpack which contained my deet, anti-itch cream and pants. The 5am wake up call was painful

After lunch Catherine and others geared up for swimming with pink dolphins. That meant washing off all mosquito repellent and jumping in waters full of piranhas and alligators. Catherine braved the mosquitoes but decided against meeting the dolphins up close.

On our boat ride back we decided against spending two more days on a jungle tour. We also decided against our anticipated two week cargo boat ride down the Rio Mamore in the jungle. Mosquitoes, heat, and "rustic" accommodations helped us decide to leave the jungle and head directly to Santa Cruz, the largest city in Bolivia.

Check out pics from Las Pampas: http://juicycat.smugmug.com/gallery/3786346/1/218317549#P-1-9

Sabbath in Amazonia

Rurre is closed.

I walked around in the oppressive midday sun and the streets resembled that of a ghost town. Tin roofed wooden shacks shared blocks with one room brick homes while a few pedestrians comingled with motobike riders. Doors were kept slightly open in hopes of letting in the nearly nonexistent river breeze but most inhabitants of this small town stayed inside today.

"Hola, tienen agua?"

"No. Paro."

I made up that Rurrenabaque is like that everyday. Life is slowed to a near standstill while the sun beats down on this jungle town. Each day a few brave the heat and trudge to a friend´s house for a midday novela or they visit a neighbor to share fish and rice. Some swing on hammocks in their backyards or gingerly pick thru a child´s mane looking for jungle bugs. Most cannot be seen until the sun bids adieu.

"Hola, sirven amuerzo?"

"No. Paro."

In the morning we saw about 20 protesters walking the streets of Rurre. How they managed to shut the town down is quite inexplicable. Supposedly they were protesting new legislation Evo Morales recently proposed to increase taxes to generate revenue for social security for the elderly. Rurre is obviously not keen on the new social order. Rurre is also obviously not keen on working a full day.

Things were not quite back to normal by the evening hours but at least restaurants were open and bottled water was no longer a luxury. After a lovely day spent snacking on cookies and lounging in hammocks we were finally able to eat a meal and see some life in Rurre.

Mostly we saw Israelis.

Rurrenabaque is like little Jerusalem. There are tons of young Israelis who recently completed military service. During our travels to Peru and Bolivia we have met many military veterans but Rurre is definitely the capital. Anyone having problems on JDate should try a weekend trip to Rurre.

Alpha Cat Comes Out to Play

It came as no surprise that leaving La Paz was not as easy as we had hoped. Sure, a 6 hour mountain bike descent from 4700m to 1200m on the "World´s Most Dangerous Road" sounds intimidating, but after two months of travel I was undaunted by the beaten path. Wise Catherine felt otherwise.

When we arrived to La Cumbre at 9am we were met by Huayna Potosi, an imposing 6000m peak, and chilling cold. We bundled up, got our gear, and received the mandatory five minute tutorial on mountain bike safety and technique. We were obviously ready for our adventure.

We took off and immediately the wind and speed were exhilarating. Snow capped mountains surrounded us from above and sheer drops looked up at us. The asphalt road gave us enough bike stability to truly enjoy the speed.

The euphoria was not permanent. After whizzing downhill for over an hour our guide informed us of a "little" uphill climb we were to encounter before our switch to the gravel road. Up to that point I rode in the middle of the pack and given her fear of heights Catherine stayed in the back.

We took off and very quickly the uphill climb commenced. As I moved further and further towards the back of the pack I saw Catherine pass me and very quickly peddle pass all the others. I knew I wouldn´t see Alpha Cat for a long time...I just didn´t realize how long that would be. As Catherine was kicking major bum, my bum was being majorly kicked. Uphill biking at 3000m on a heavy mountain bike was certainly not what I had signed up for at office of "Gravity Assisted Mountain Biking." I peddled and I puffed for as long as I could. And that was quite long. I thought I had overcome the biggest challenge of the uphill and just as I rounded the corner I saw that it continued for a few more kilometers. I was not going to make it. Caesar, the assistant guide, rode next to me and I informed him that I would have to be "the" lazy American and take the bus to meet our group at the next rest stop. As Caesar and the driver loaded my bike on the bus, I barfed on the side of the mountain.

Catherine overcame all but two other riders and I had to take the bus. I certainly want Alpha Cat on my team.

We got on the gravel and I was TERRIFIED. I couldn´t control my bike and we were going soooooo fast on a road that was maybe 2m wide with a mountain on one side and a cliff on the other. I just did not expect to be so scared. For about over an hour of riding down the gravel I had countless moments where I thought I would hurl to my death. Anything in the path could have brought on imminent death. A small pebble, a hole, a bird. I had just as many thoughts of Catherine having an accident and I just could not get past my fear. It was totally horrific.

For the last hours of our ride, Catherine and I agreed to stay in the back of the pack, take it slow, take photos, enjoy the beautiful scenery, and stay alive. It was absolutely wonderful. Catherine was wonderful. She dealt with her own fears while supporting me and getting me back to a good place. The bike ride was certainly not her idea, but we enjoyed the last two hours of our ride. Do it again? Nope. Next time, we follow Catherine´s advice and hike.

We spent the next night enjoying monkeys, birds, nature, and the very welcome heat at an animal reserve. From there we headed to our first real vacation spot, the small town of Coroico. We´ve had an amazing time during our trip but sometimes it feels like work trying to find information, get a hotel, find a place to wash clothes, and all the other little things that we don´t have to deal with at home.

In Coroico we awoke to the songs of birds and the smells of nature. Trees and flowers surrounded us and we were totally secluded atop a hill in the jungle. We had planned to stay in Coroico for a day and do some hiking to waterfalls and coca plantations. Instead we stayed for three days and did nothing but read, sleep, and lounge. It was absolutely perfect and exactly what we needed after five hectic days in La Paz.

Pics from La Paz:
http://juicycat.smugmug.com/gallery/3754485#215975556

Pics from our bike ride to Coroico:
http://juicycat.smugmug.com/gallery/3754527#218309281

Pics from our vacation in Coroico:
http://juicycat.smugmug.com/gallery/3786257#218311461

Pics from the animal reserve, La Senda Verde:
http://juicycat.smugmug.com/gallery/3786323#218314519

Ride on Girlies

Tomorrow morning we finally leave La Paz.

We will ride mountain bikes down the world's most dangerous road from 4700m to 1200m in just a few hours. That means that we go from the mountains of the Cordillera Real to the jungle in las Yungas.

We're both happy to get to our next destination even if we will likely not have a place to stay. Our next village, Coroico, is having a huge party for the next few days and hotels have been booked solid for weeks. We may have to share a bed with a local or sleep in the plaza with drunks. Catherine seems to think that we are in for an adventure. I'm a bit more skeptical but of course I follow her lead.

Some Peace in La Paz

Approaching La Paz we weren't disappointed with the views of the city and its surroundings. La Paz is actually shaped like a huge bowl. El Alto, a sprawling "city" of 650,000 regarded as the Aymara capital of the world, is the rim of the bowl, and the city center, with a population of 900,000, is at the bottom of the bowl. Hugging the bowl are 6000m peaks that loom over the city. On the bus you approach from El Alto and after rounding a few corners you see into the bowl's bottom - winding streets, highrises clinging to cliffs and an endless array of buildings. The initial views of the city were spectacular.

I plastered my face to the bus window and I felt that I didn't have enough time to take in the spectacle. I didn't want the fresh images to fade. Things happen so quickly here that I find it essential to stop mental time and attempt to truly capture moments. A few days later and already subsequent images, smells, sounds, and experiences quickly transplant "old" ones.

La Paz has been a wonderful city to explore. Not even a million people make up the city center and yet the city bustles with life from early morning to late night. Tonight I walked home at 11pm and was quite surprised to see market hawkers still selling their products, young lovers embracing in the small plaza and full collectivos transporting people to and fro.

Here we've had the oppurtunity to enjoy ''luxuries'' only big citites can offer. We found whole grain wheat bread and brie and have indulged in ''fancy'' lunches all week. We also found yummy apple pie and apple cider and feasted on our own little fall treat on the steps of a bougi highrise. We went to the movies and escaped from the hurried streets for two hours. The movie was American, it sucked, and we laughed at its absurdities. When the movie ended we each had the fleeting thought that we would leave the theater and walk to our apartment...in Philadelphia. Bittersweetly we laughed knowing we would spill onto the streets of La Paz heading to yet another temporary abode.

We're kind of stuck here. We want to head north to the heat of the jungle but each evening we realize that we have yet to plan our departure. I don't know what is keeping us put. Maybe it's the double bed we managed to secure at our hostel or it's the organic chocolate we found. The city is poor, rundown and chaotic but I have found immense richness and possibility here. I'm trying to decide if it's my favorite place we have visited.

More importantly - GO BOLIVIA!

We attended our first Latin American futbol match yesterday afternoon and we had a BLAST! Bolivia tied Colombia 0-0 in the World Cup qualifier match. We got tickets for only 50 bolivianos...that's less than $7.

I was also able to finally upload pics of our visit to Lago Titicaca. Check out our picture site to see the many new galleries I created.

"Caramelos!"

It is now my turn to be the patient and Catherine's turn to play doctor.

I awoke yesterday morning with persistent runs, a burnt face and a rash over my eyes resembling the flesh eating plague. For six weeks I have been totally healthy. Suddenly I'm bombarded with as many ailments as a 3rd world country. It didn't help that at 5am when I awoke to go to the bathroom I discovered we had run out of toilet paper - a pleasant pink hue here in Bolivia. I "luckily" found some of Catherine's dirty snot tissues. We also have no moisturizer for my burnt face. Everything here is loaded with perfumes and chemicals. For relief I've had to spread lip balm all over my face. As for the flesh eating plague, well, if it doesn't go away, I love you all.

Cusco - Puno - Islas Flotantes - Isla Amantani - Isla Taquile - Puno - Yungayo (Bolivian border) - Copacabana - Isla del Sol - Copacabana - La Paz

Today we head to La Paz after a very busy and beautiful week exploring Lake Titicaca. We were pleasantly surprised at the magnitude, diversity and beauty of the lake. I half expected it to be a dumping ground of sludge and brown waters for both Peru and Bolivia. Instead the lake's crystal blue and turquoise waters shimmer in the intense sunlight at 4000m (the highest lake in the world). Adding to the color spectacle are the vivid colors of the clothing worn by the men and women of the various islands. The bright pinks, greens, yellows and reds all sit on the bright blues of the water and sky. 6000m mountain peaks on the horizon add to the visual show. On many occasions we found ourselves whiling away hours just observing the scenery and the people.

Isla del Sol in Bolivia was the definite highlight of our discovery of Lake Titicaca. Though the island is extremely peaceful, we encountered much activity during our stay. We met a large group of young Bolivianos studying to be in the tourism industry. They were very enthusiastic about their studies and we spent hours talking about culture, travel and language. Meeting them was absolutely great. The following day on our hike to the northern part of the island we took a break from the sun's harshness by resting on a secluded beach. While Catherine napped a group of about ten Boliviano kids no older than five descended upon us demanding, "Caramelos!" Although I kindly told them I had no caramelos and that I wouldn't give them any candy they encircled us and pressed on with their demands for caramelos. The leader of the Bolivian Lord of the Flies, with beady little eyes and rotten front teeth spotted a package of crackers in my day pack. He reached for them and insisted, "Give them to me. I want them!" I sternly told him not to touch my bag and to get away from us. Catherine awoke and noticed all of the kids around us. I explained their demands for caramelos and that started what has become the one woman brigade to save the teeth of Bolivia's sugar-addicted children. In her beginner Spanish she scolded all of them on their demands for candy. "Caramelos son muy malos! Son muy malos para tu dientes!" We got up and left. The Lord of the Flies ran to the other side of the beach, took off their clothes, and jumped in the lake. Latin Piggy hasn't been heard from since.

We have worked on a thorough speech to give the children. Every kid we have met since then requesting caramelos has been met with very active resistance on Catherine's part.

I'll update pics when we get to La Paz.

Happy 30th Birthday to Efrain!! We love you!!

Inca Warrior Girls March On

Machu Picchu

We made it!

The past week has been a whirlwind. It's really crazy how quickly the days pass here because a week ago we were on the Inca trail full of anxiety and exhilaration and a few hours ago we crossed the border into Bolivia.

On October 1st we embarked on our 4 day trek to Machu Picchu. We were both apprehensive about the intensity of the trek and the amount of money we paid for the "experience." 48 hours before the trek when we were to pay for our trip in crisp American bills we even considered forfeiting our $300 deposit. Nonetheless, we paid, we went on a practice hike the day before, and on October 1st we awoke at 5am for our 5:30am pick up.

The hike was intense and amazing. Catherine and I totally kicked butt. On day 2, the toughest day of hiking with an ascent from 3000m to 4200m and then back down to 3800m, Catherine and I were no. 2 and no. 3 up to Dead Woman's pass at 4200m. Alone I probably would have stopped every 10 steps but Catherine set an awesome pace for the two of us and she was a wonderful cheerleader. It felt so great to make it to the top and feel the intensity of the sun and the wind as we rested before embarking on the 400m descent to our coldest night of camp.

Day 3 was the most beautiful day of hiking with a misty jungle terrain and various Inca sites. It also brought a twisted ankle and lost glasses for Catherine; and for both of us the Gringo killer, a hot shower at camp and cold beers. I bolted down the Gringo killer - steep descending steps known to deter many a hiker - determined to be the first girl to the hot shower. I teamed up with a speedy Swiss hiker and the two of us literally ran to camp. It was totally worth it to wash 3 days dirt accumulation off of my body. A $2 shower never felt so great. The beer afterwards was even better. Catherine made it to camp shortly after without glasses and with a slight limp. She was rewarded with chocolate and a cold beer upon her arrival.

We awoke at 3:45am on Day 4 and made another mad dash to Machu Picchu. By the time we got there we were all so exhausted that even the excitement of Machu Picchu couldn't stop most of the group from napping instead of climbing up Waynu Picchu. All of the coca tea must have made me delusional because I headed up Waynu Picchu with two funny Brits from our trekking group. The uphill slog was worth it because the views from Waynu Picchu were absolutely spectacular. It was total bliss the entire morning. The trek was extremely challenging and the view of Machu Picchu was absolutely beautiful.

After Waynu Picchu I found Catherine and we enjoyed a nap together on one of the terraces of the site. A perfect siesta for a perfect day.

My hour is up. Check out our pics at http://juicycat.smugmug.com

We also visited the Peruvian side of Lake Titicaca - amazing :)

One Month and Two Machetes

Ollantaytambo

Pisac

One month full of highs and lows.

Just one month ago we boarded a plane at JFK. Now we're dealing with unexpected cold in Cusco.

We visited the Sacred Valley this past week and had our first nonsacred experience. While in Ollantaytambo we got info on a "cool" independent hike we could do to remote ruins far from the throngs of tourists. We needed the trekking practice so we headed out. Lucho, our host at the hostal, walked us to the trailhead and gave us very "thorough" directions for the trail.

Of course, about 5 minutes into our hike, we were lost. We found some locals who gave us different directions and we headed out again looking for a bridge. After an hour we got to a bridge and saw an old guy walking towards us. We figured we'd ask him for confirmation on the trail to the ruins. I asked him which way and he told me to go over the bridge and along a very narrow path. The narrow path didn't look right but I turned around and proceeded to walk towards the bridge. I assumed Catherine was walking alongside. I turned around again and saw the old man standing next to Catherine. They were about 15 feet away from me and I saw him grab her chest. Catherine totally froze and I screamed at him to get away from her. I walked towards him and the old creep came towards me with an outstretched arm ready to touch me too. I yelled at him not to touch me and I swatted at him with my water bottle.

We were spooked and proceeded to quickly walk towards the path he had pointed out. He walked along the middle path and when he was about 20 feet away from us he picked up a machete and started walking towards us again.

"Run!"

We ran back to the path we had come from and were totally scared and angry and confused. We were about 1.5 hours away from Ollantaytambo and didn't know what to do. After a little while we noticed that the old man with the machete was with another old man and they walked the other way. Somehow, we decided to proceed.

We finally made it to the ruins. We walked up to the top of the hill, entered an access gate and saw another old man with a machete inside. "What the fuck!" He walked towards us and requested a donation. We told him we were just looking around, we stayed for maybe 30 seconds and zoomed out. We were terrified. At this point we were 3 hours away from Ollantaytambo and already we had encountered two old men with machetes.

We live to celebrate our one month!

Pics of our visit to Pisac:
http://juicycat.smugmug.com/gallery/3559853#201757931

Pics of our visit to Ollantaytambo:
http://juicycat.smugmug.com/gallery/3559685#201744600

She's back!

Pre-recovery:



Post-recovery:


We visited Dr. Karen and she found that Catherine had a gastrointestinal bacteria and congestion in her lungs. She prescribed an antibiotic and the diarrhea is gone. She's still dealing with a very runny nose but the situation is MUCH better. She's hydrating herself, taking her medication and trying to acclimatize to the altitude.

Although I was quite apprehensive, our experience with the local doctor was awesome. She was very knowledgeable about Catherine's colitis (which can be severely aggravated with antibiotics) and was very thorough on both occasions that we visited. All of it was only $15 - two visits and medication.

Catherine's illness had one very positive side effect - she suggested an "expensive" meal in Cusco. After our Lame Lucy $60 lunch we've gone super cheap with our dining which is likely how Catherine got sick in the first place. After a scolding in Lima, I'm now totally trained in the cheapy meals, therefore I was quite surprised when she told me she wanted to go to a nice restaurant. We had an awesome meal! Of course!

Hopefully, tomorrow we can head out to the Sacred Valley and do some hiking in preparation for our Inca trail hike next week. We'll return to Cusco on Friday and rest for our October 1st departure to Machu Picchu.

See pics of our visit to the Qorikancha Ruinas in Cusco, Peru:
http://juicycat.smugmug.com/gallery/3556501#201506240

Adios Arequipa

We've sort of decided to come up with a list of things to remind us of cities we have visited. Although we have yet to agree what goes on the list, here is a prelim for Arequipa:

- pollution, pollution and even more pollution
- 12,000 taxi cabs
- pedestrians do NOT have the right of way
- super clean streets cleaned by a troop of women who wear red outfits, including red scarfs to cover their faces
- "El Menu" for $2 (and even sometimes less than $1) that includes the typical caldo blanco (white broth with a bone and some variation of veggies), a main dish (usually rice or potatoes) and dessert
- employees of cell phone companies that wear bright colored vests and walk around renting cell phones for single calls
- Home Sweet Home - very sporadic hot water, the same breakfast of bread, crepes, and eggs for two weeks and our first buddies Liseth and Moises
- morning walk to Spanish class
- Marie, the 60 year old Irish backpacker who had been traveling for over 5 years and who introduced us to "The Lying Planet"
- the intense sun
- El Monestario de Santa Catalina
- monopolized blocks
- crowded Plaza de Armas, especially on Sundays
- locals who love the nasty pigeons that hangout in the plaza - they feed them, take photos with them and call them doves

We've only been out of Arequipa for a few days and already my memory has failed me.

In Cusco, Still Crappy

We're in Cusco, the tourist capital of Peru. We arrived this morning at 6:30am after an uneventful night bus trip. Uneventful in Peru is very pleasant and safe.

First thoughts on Cusco - cold, very touristy, "fancy" and rife with beautiful Inca terracing throughout the city. Everywhere you see locals parading around in traditional garb waiting for tips for photos. Where Arequipenos were quite lively and unassuming, Cusquenos are very present and aggressive. I'm sure the next few days will give me a better appreciation for the town vibe. I can't wait to further explore the Inca terracing and the ruins that are within walking distance of downtown.

Unfortunately, Catherine is still very sick. Her illness started on Monday when we arrived in Chivay. There she had a head cold and some minor chest pains. By Wednesday when we returned to Arequipa she had pretty bad ear pain from the sudden change in altitude we experienced on the bus ride from Chivay to Arequipa. Wednesday night we went out to dinner and afterwards started severe diarrhea and stomach pains. All of Thursday she rested but still the pain was persistant. She took some loperamide on Thursday evening and had a good bus ride to Cusco. She felt much better this morning and we enjoyed a very bougi breakfast in Cusco. (I thought of Ivan and Maribel :) Unfortunately, the diarrhea has returned. Although the cold, chest pains and ear pain have been gone for days she is still feeling quite ill. Tomorrow we enjoy our first visit to a South American hospital/doctor. I don't know what's worse - being sick or having to visit the doctor here. Catherine will report tomorrow.

Please think happy and loving thoughts for Catherine. It really sucks that she's not well. She's been a total trooper throughout the ordeal. I'll keep you posted.

A missing knife, an Irish girl in Uggs and a sick Catherine

Catherine did the smart thing and slept all of Friday night. I did the silly thing and went out with our Arequipeno friends, Moises and Liseth. They kept me out way too late and I consumed way too many beers.

On Saturday morning we had a 5am wake up call and a 6am local bus to Cabanaconde. I suppose the excitement of the hike and the few hours of sleep on the bus were sufficient because I was able to keep up with Catherine. After a bumpy ride and a billion stops along the way, we arrived to the very small village of Cabanaconde. We enjoyed our first taste of alpaca and we ventured into the Colca Canyon.

We anticipated an easy 4 hour hike down into the canyon. Catherine's fear of heights kicked in when we traversed very narrow trail parts and encountered sheer drops into the canyon. Many blisters and toe problems later we finally arrived to our destination, San Juan de Chuccho. San Juan de Chuccho is a little village in the bottom of the canyon that consists mostly of a few hostals that double as restaurants. We met our hosts Carmen and Gaby and they showed us to our very rustic but comfy digs. We waited for the evening's set meal, ate what they gave us and by 8pm we had crashed for the night.

On Sunday morning we had a visit from either the bad Peruano gods or Jan, the German hipster we met the night before. Before heading out to our next stop of Sangelle I had to wrap my very blistered toes. While sitting on the bed next to the open door, I used our Swiss Army knife to cut some medical tape for my right toe. I threw the knife on the bed behind me as I then moved onto preparing my left toe. I later reached for the knife but it was no longer on the bed. We continued packing and getting ready thinking that the knife would show up. We looked all through the hut and no knife. We then totally unpacked everything again and still no knife. We searched for 30 more minutes and no knife. It totally disappeared. We left without it hoping that it would show up in our pack somehow. Unfortunately, we still have no knife. Either it disappeared or someone took it. We like to think that Jan was some crazy klepto who totally got off on taking our knife.

Our host Carmen walked us to the trailhead on Sunday morning and we were on our way to Sangalle. The hike to Sangelle was extremely pleasant. We crossed a dried up river bed and visited Coshnirua, the first town on the trail. We chatted with a local family who sold drinks to hikers and who told us of an annual canyon marathon that was to be run that day. The marathon began that morning at 7am in Cabanaconde and runners ran down the canyon and up all in one morning. (Mind you, we hiked down for 4 hours on day one, then hiked across for 3 hours on day two and then hiked up 4 hours on day three - they were to do the whole loop in one morning - the winner did the loop in 2hrs and 58mins.) We continued on the lone path through town on our way to the second town on the trail, Malata. There we saw a small and very well kept plaza. We continued on to Sangalle. En route we encountered the marathon runners. The local guys sprinted by us in sandals. It was totally insane. Full out sprint. We also found local men walking to the weekly canyon soccer match. Men brought their mules and things to trade to a soccer field that they layed out on the side of the canyon. Needless to say, it was a very busy day on the trail.

We finally made it to Sangelle and the spent the day relaxing in the pool they had built there. While waiting for the set meal of the evening an interesting character appeared. She emerged from her hut wearing designer jeans, Ugg boots, a sweater with a fur collar and a bright pink hat with ear flaps. Stephanie Parker, from Belfast, turned out to be our first travel partner of our trip. We chatted with her during the evening and found that she too was traveling without a guide and that she was headed up the canyon in the morning. We hooked up with her and on Monday at 6am we embarked on our strenuous 4 hour uphill slog back up to Cabanaconde.

The walk up kicked our butts. We were exhausted and totally sore by the time we got up. Luckily we missed the sun of midday and made it back to Cabanaconde just in time for breakfast at 10am. By 1pm, we were already in our next village of Chivay. In Chivay we went straight for the natural hot springs and pruned up for hours in the pools. We stayed in Chivay for another day exploring the 4 block radius that was the village.

By the time we headed back on Wednesday Catherine had developed a pretty bad cold. We decided to stay in Arequipa one extra night hoping that she would get better.

She's gotten worse. It's Thursday night and our 10 hour bus to Cusco leaves at 8pm. Catherine has been in bed for two days and now has the major runs. Not a good situation. Fingers crossed and prayers to the Inca gods that she has a pleasant ride and that she gets better soon.

See pics of our stay in the Colca Canyon at:
http://juicycat.smugmug.com/gallery/3506563#198101550

Chilly Rio Chili

I finally convinced Catherine to let us spend some money and do something active. 10 days of church and convent exploration had me going quite nutty.

We went on an afternoon rafting trip to el Rio Chili with our guides Lucho, Joseph and Roberto. After a "thorough" 20 minute training we ventured out on the mostly II and III class rapids, with a few IV.

Our first 2m drop and class IV also happened to be my first rafting wipeout. Lucho instructed us to "lean in." Unfortunately, my inability to hear directions and the strength of the river lead to me leaning all the way out of the raft. Luckily I held onto the raft line and after swallowing just a little bit of water, Lucho heaved me back onto the raft. It was a blast! I didn't even feel the very cold water. My second wipeout - yes, there was a second - happened during our second major drop. I thought I had the "lean in" concept, but unfortunately Catherine was a bit zealous and her lean in was actually a "push" Joc out. I didn't have a chance to hold onto the line and I floated quite close to some large rocks. Luckily, guide in training Joseph pulled me in before any major damage. Another highlight :)

However, the prize for the best wipeout of the day belongs to Catherine. Before drop two, Lucho took us to a very calm area in the water and explained that we were to approach our second drop. Catherine announced, "God, I'm glad I didn't fall in because I would be freezing right now." Her excitement tookover and she wiped herself out. No rough waters, no drop, nothing...simply a wipeout! Unfortunately, no photos.

We had a real blast!

Catherine is done with Spanish classes this afternoon and tomorrow we head out to el Canon de Colca. We're super excited to leave city life in Arequipa and finally do some trekking. If you do not hear from us by Wednesday, send helicopters for us.

For more pics of our rafting:

http://juicycat.smugmug.com/gallery/3472893#195339781