South America

Fin de mi Viaje

2010-08-30T18:12:00.001-07:00

As I leave South America, back to my country, back to the streets i know so well, and the people I love, I am bombarded by a mix of thoughts and emotions. This trip has been an unforgettable, exhilarating, and at times exhausting, experience. It is difficult to transform my contentment and personal successes into words. I have learned to look at the world differently, appreciate aspects I just learned existed, and abstract lessons and wisdom that the great teacher of experience has to offer. I met some incredible people and some very miserable people. I communicated with people from all over the world and realized, after breaking down language barriers, how much we really have in common.

In a way, the end of my trip feels like a small death, but it is also the start of a new life. The next chapter is beginning... I just hope I can go forward with the same spirit and optimism I have gained in the past 8 months. If you are having doubts about wanting to travel, or are just waiting around for "something"... stop waiting. Take the leap and don't look back. Life is too short to wait for opportunities. Make the opportunities and abundance follows...

Buenos Aires and Iguazu Falls Pictures

2010-08-30T18:08:00.000-07:00

Argentina

2010-08-30T17:28:00.000-07:00

I have now been home for over a month but thought it appropriate to finish my journey in writing and close out what was an amazing experience. My last 3 weeks were spent in Argentina, a highly developed and interesting country. It was a major change coming from the underdeveloped and poverty stricken land of Bolivia. I could tell a difference immediately after crossing the border when I went from stuffy, old buses driving on dirt roads in Bolivia, to air conditioned, brand new looking buses in Argentina. The highways opened up into 5 and 6 lanes and traffic flowed like blood through healthy veins. The metal roofed houses that lined the roads in Bolivia slowly transformed into street lights and farms as we drove further into the heart of Argentina. I remember making a mental note about how such a large change can occur between two countries that share a border and language. Don't get me wrong; South America as a whole has suffered from centuries of exploitation, dictatorships, and hardship; but Bolivia still remains one of the poorest countries in the Western Hemisphere, while Argentina has become a developed and highly efficient country (more European than Latin).

I continued my journey through Argentina and spent varying amounts of time in Salta, Cordoba, Mendoza, Buenos Aires, and Iguazu Falls. Each city had enormous churches (from a heavy Catholic influence), lots of culture, music, students, and lots of external beauty. Mendoza, famous for it's vineyards and mountains, was one of my favorite stops. Beautiful, laid back, and with great character, just my type of place. I spent my time exploring the wine region and biking through some of the most famous vineyards. Tasting, sunshine, a bike, and latin music, what more is there? I also visited the Aconcagua National Park, home of South America's largest mountain (Aconcagua). Many climbers attempt the 22,841 foot summit, which takes almost 3 weeks. The season was not right for me to attempt this, but I doubt that I have had the training or experience to try. Maybe in the future...

Buenos Aires was, second to none, a mind boggling city, both in it's grandeur and culture. I spent a week in the city and felt I had seen a small fraction of what she offered. The city of over 11 million people (second largest population in South America next to Sao Paolo in Brazil) is the home of Tango. Culture booms from every street corner and at times it feels much more European than South American. I loved exploring the different neighborhoods and nightlife that BA had to offer.

The last highlight was Iguazu Falls. I find it hard to describe this wonder of nature. It seems that the earth just drops off and water falls from all directions. It is a site that must be seen in your lifetime and offers a sense of tranquility and inspiration that only water offers. It was one of my last stops on the map before heading back to Buenos Aires and my flight home. My final bus journey after 8 months of many buses couldnt have gone more smoothly. I was served a hot chicken meal, whiskey, champaign, and dessert. The bus was smooth, air conditioned to perfection, and sleep came easily as I contemplated my trip and the end of one of the best adventures of my life.

Salar De Uyuni

2010-07-01T15:51:00.000-07:00

Directly after leaving Sucre I went on a 3 day tour of the famous Salt Flats (Salar de Uyuni). It was a magical place with salt deserts that stretched as far as the eye could see, moon like landscapes, unreal rock formations, and freezing cold temperature (I am fairly certain it dropped below 0 degrees the second night of the journey). I feel the only way to justify this trip is with pictures...

After my tour, we arrived in Uyuni and I only had 9 hours to wait for my train that was departing at 2:30 in the morning. I nearly froze as I sat in the train terminal with every layer of clothing hugging my body. When the train finally arrived I was glad to get out of the cold and close my drooping eyes for a few hours. The overall train journey took about 10 hours and when we arrived at the Argentine border I had slept about 4 hours in more than 24. No time to sleep... after crossing the border and catching another 7 hour bus with a changeover halfway, I finally found myself in Salta at 1am. It would have been nice to sleep on the bus to Salta, but unfortunately a 14 year old girl kept me awake with 7th grade stories in rapid fire Argentinian Spanish. I couldnt find the heart to tell her to shut her mouth, so endured this for a few hours until she got off at her stop. Nearly 48 hours later and only 4 hours of sleep I was ready to crash but so tired I wasnt tired. After a few games of pool and some music I finally fell asleep at about 2:30am.

With 3 weeks left and dwindling money I am feeling bittersweet about my inevitable return to the mother land.

My New Home

2010-06-30T09:38:00.001-07:00

Sucre, the capital of Bolivia, is a beautiful city with some of the nicest parks and my favorite main square in all of South America. The extravagence of the buildings and cleanliness of the streets make you forget you are in the poorest country in South America. I had decided to stay in Sucre for a month and take a short break from the day to day movements and constant bus rides. A few Spanish classes, volunteer work, and a daily routine was just what I needed.

Everything fell into place within a week; I was aligned with the perfect apartment situated just to the side of a courtyard and owned by a lovely Bolivian family (I had my own bathroom and tiny kitchen and paid just $80 for the entire month); I set up 2 hours of Spanish classes per day; I found a job volunteering at a local savings and loan bank learning micro finance and helping to create better efficiencies in their processes; and I quickly made local friends. It was the perfect combination, however the job turned out to be quite the adventure.

My ¨interview¨ did not go well at all and I barely understood a word the banker said. If it werent for the fact I was a foreigner and the position was strictly volunteer I would have been kicked out the door immediately. I had the excuse of not being fluent in Spanish as my reasoning and I was given a 120 page risk management document (the bankers Bible I was told) to read within the next week. Each day following I was stationed at the computer and got to my daily reading. After 3 or 4 days of struggling through the material and using my Spanish to English dictionary, I was exhausted. When I returned the following week with my newfound knowledge I was told they were switching my project and I was given another 30 page document of credit risk to read for the next week!! At this point I had a strong feeling I was not being taken seriously. When I finally ¨started¨ work I only had about 3 days left, but had learned many new financial vocabulary words in Spanish. I ended up reading over some loan applications for micro finance projects and creating a spreadsheet that was supposed to maximize the efficiency of calculating their risk exposure and volatility of deposits and loans. I realized how far behind the banking system in Bolivia is. It was the first they had heard of using complicated formulas in Excel to calculate volatility and create graphs. I think I got a little out of the experience and offered some of my knowledge at the same time. The only regret I have is not having enough time to maximize the experience.

Another great aspect of Sucre was the food and fresh juices. I made a habit out of eating chorizo sandwiches 2 or 3 times per week and going to the local market for a fresh fruit juice or fruit salad almost every day after Spanish class. Sucre was turning into my favorite South American cities and as the month neared its final days I knew it would be a hard place to leave.

On the final Friday I had in Sucre, the unexpected happened. It began with the sound of fireworks and chants that echoes from between the historic buildings as more and more people arrived to the Plaza 25 de Mayo. It had begun earlier in the week with mild protests supporting the latest political grievence and was culminating on this particular Friday. The people were audibly showing their support for the recently ousted mayor of Sucre. He had been democratically elected, but didnt align with Evo Morales´ (the president of Bolivia) party. Issues were raised about past corruption, on behalf of the mayor, and a panel of 3 judges voted for change. The elected mayor was tossed from office and a replacement, who happens to align with Evo´s political party, has been sworn in as Sucres new mayor. In Bolivia the norm for such an event is to take to the streets with banners and chants to show their disagreement. Occassionally, these protests can turn hostile...

As I neared the square, I noticed a large gathering of people chanting and marching as tires burned in the streets. On one side riot police stood in formation. All of a sudden, without warning, screams erupted and the crowd scattered in all directions. Tear gas flooded the demonstration and sent people running down side streets in search of clean air. This was just the beginning. What insued in and around the main plaza of Sucre was not unlike a war of small proportions. Police were constant with their tear gas bombardment, while rioters threw rocks, shot marbles from slingshots, and launched fireworks at the Police. The bang from exploding fireworks and small pieces of dynamite echoed off the buildings, smoldering tires slowly burned in the streets, smoke from the tear gas and burning rubber filled the sky, and Plaza 25 de Mayo momentarily transformed into a war zone (but without real weapons).

I was caught in the mix and tear gased multiple time. Luckily I was offered vinegar (which helps with the stinging sensation in your throat and eyes) by locals. Roads became impassable due to burning tires and more and more smoke filled the sky as the day turned to night. The chaos finally settled down around midnight and the only sign that anything had happened was a deserted and destroyed plaza still filled with remnants of tear gas. For me, this was one of the most adrenaline filled days I have had in a long time, but for the locals of Bolivia it was just another ¨normal¨ day.

***Please take note (Mom): No sons were hurt in the production of this story. I will be home in 3 weeks and you can scold me.

A window gets broken during the riots

A local runs from surrounding tear gas canisters

Police vs. the Citizens

Police march on the plaza

Locals cover their faces from the smoke filling the sky

A couple friends from Sucre

Self explainatory

A Sucre side street (without rioting)

Into the Bolivian Amazon

2010-06-16T10:20:00.001-07:00

I stepped off the plane and felt the thick jungle air fill my lungs. The mugginess felt good after many cold days in the frigid Bolivian alto plano. I was amazed at how much my world could change with a 35 minute flight from La Paz (12,000 feet) to Rurrenabaque (sea level). Immidiately after stepping outside we were bombarded by locals offering accomadation, rides into town, and restaurants. After bargaining between the bus, a motorcycle, and a private jeep as a means of transportation into town, we settled on moto transport for less than 50 cents. I hopped on the back and felt a moment of panick as we took off in a motorcycle gang of about 15. It would have been very easy to rob me for all I was worth, but the closest thing to a knockout punch I received was the wind whipping my face as we sped down the cobbled street.

Rurrenabaque is a popular tourist hub for either the thick jungle of Madidi National Park or the Pampas (savannah) region. My Canadian friend and I decided on the Pampas tour because it was possible to see more in less days. The three day tour ended up being amazing and included floating the Tuichi river in a canoe, searching the vast savannah plains for Anocandas (we found one!), eating incredible buffet style food, swimming with pink river dolphins and aligators nearby, Piranha fishing, and viewing an abundance of wildlife. I usually steer clear of organized tours, but this specific one exceeded my admittedly low expectations.

When we arrived back in Rurrenabaque the plan was to spend one night and catch a flight out the next day. However, when I awoke at 4:30am to the sound of monsoon type rain rattling the tin roof, I had doubts that there would be any flights. My suspicion was confirmed when the rain pressed on until about 11am. Plan B: A 17 hour bus on winding dirt roads! I wasnt thrilled, but had no other options... I was running short on money and wanted to get back to La Paz sooner rather than later. The bus swayed and bumped in route to La Paz and all was uneventful until about 11pm when, all of a sudden, we stopped. I looked outside and could see nothing but dark skies and wondered why we had stopped. After a few minutes half the people on the bus got off, while the other half stayed wondering what was going on. The engine rumbled and the bus lunged forward, tilted right, tilted a bit more, and suddenly I realized I was sitting in a death trap. We had slid slightly off the road and were stuck in the muddy embankment. As the driver tried to force the bus forward we had slid further onto the brink of an even worse outcome. Luckily, I realized this and scurried off the bus before we ended up sideways in the ditch. Needless to say, after a half hour or so of the crew unsuccessfully attempting to free the bus from cluches of Pacha Mama (Mother Earth), a passing truck was able to tug us out damage free. Just another normal night en route to La Paz.

We arrived the next morning and were greeted once more by the freezing cold of La Paz. I had to search for warmer weather. Next stop, Sucre, for some R&R, volunteering, Spanish classes, and, I hoped, sunshine and warmth...

Look at the teeth on this Piranha!

And the dientes in this Caiman

This is the motorcycle I rode into Rurrenabaque on

La Paz, Bolivia

2010-06-13T15:42:00.000-07:00

Our crew standing on the death road outside of La Paz

Another stretch of deadly road

La Paz at dusk

Llama fetuses in the witch market

As the bus crept forward into the outskirts of La Paz, I could feel the cold air seeping through the window panes. Outside, the fumes and honks of rush hour filled the evening sky. The streets were flooded with people, buses, and cars, everyone going their own way, lost in their thoughts and routines. I, meanwhile, was contemplating the chaos around me, while I anxiously awaited our arrival. It had been another long bus ride and I was ready to stay put for a week or so. I remember thinking how ugly La Paz was and what the fuss from other travelers was about. It wasn´t until we reached the crest of one of the ridges that surroundes La Paz and began to drop down into the city that I saw the hidden beauty and marvelled at the way the city clings to the sides of the protruding mountains. It is a mix of modern infrastructure, old adobe houses with tin roofs, traffic, pollution, amazing views, nearby mountains that tower in the distance tempting climbers with their snow capped peaks, and crowds of people slowly living their Bolivian lifestyle.

Like most South American cities, La Paz is filled with street vendors selling everything from clothes and food to love potions and llama fetuses. Fetuses??!!??... you are probably asking yourself... and no this is not a typo. They actually sell llama fetuses to give as a gift to bring good luck when hung in a persons home. I couldn´t see myself getting used to the idea of a fetus hanging anywhere near my prescence, nor of anyone else I know appreciating such a gift, so I passed on the purchase. However, I probably could have used some luck for what I planned to do in La Paz... bike at high speeds down the ¨death road¨. The death road is a dirt road built into dramatic landscape with thousand foot drops, poor visability, narrow enough for only one car in places, and has claimed thousands of lives in it´s history. The road is now closed to traffic due to the number of cars and buses that have rolled off it´s steep cliffs, but has become a thrill seekers tourist attraction instead. Closing the road to traffic has slowed the death count, but not halted it completely as the occassional biker loses control and joins the growing number of tragedies.

The ride was one of the more dangerous things I have done here, but well worth the hair raising drop offs and narrow turns. I can happily report no accidents and beautiful views. From beginning to end we descended from 4,700 meters to 1,200 meters. All and all a good day!

The rest of my time in La Paz was spent strolling the markets and freezing in the high altitude winter. I had also planned a trip to Rurrenabaque, the portal into the Bolivian Amazon basin, by way of a 35 minute flight. I would soon be in the thick, muggy air of the jungle.

Boobs and S**t

2010-06-03T10:45:00.000-07:00

There was one more stop in Peru before I would be in my fourth country (of this trip) and one step closer to the fate of my return home. Lake Titikaka, pronounced Tee Tee Ka Ka, is one of the highest lakes of it´s size in the world and a sizeable portion rests on the Peruvian side of the border, with the rest ¨owned¨ by Bolivia. While the literal meaning in English is cause for a few chuckles, the real meaning is derived from the two indigenous languages of the region; Quechua and Aymara; and is translated to Grey Puma. The Puma, along with the Condor and Serpent, is a very important symbol to these cultures. Naturally, I wanted to visit the lake in both the Peruvian and Bolivian territories.

Puno rests on the Peruvian shores and was the next stop as a gateway to the floating islands of Uros. This civilization goes back many years, still exists in its true form today, and is just as it sounds. It consists of numerous islands artifically constructed from mud, wood, and the reeds that grow from the lake. Each island is tied down using wooden stakes pressed hard into the bottom of the lake to prevent the inhabitants from being pushed by the will of the wind. Each family lives on their own island and hunts (mostly birds) and fishes for nourishment (with weekly trips to Puno for rice, corn, bread, etc.). The entire community shares a school, church, and medical facility, which all exist on a seperate community island. It was very interesting to see this unique way of life. Unfortunately, the culture seems to be dying out as a new generation learns about the outside world and is tempted by its glamours and materialism. I would have loved to see more islands on the Peruvian side of Titikaka, but Bolivia was tempting me on the opposite shore.

After a short 3 hour bus ride from Puno to Copacabana, with a stop at the border for passport formalities (as an American I had to pay $135 for a visa and provide numerous copies of documents for the Bolivian government), I was in Bolivia! In general, border towns are always fairly similar to each other and provide an easy transition between cultures. Besides the change in currency and a few name changes on the local menu, Copacabana seemed much like Puno. In the sense that Puno was a jumping off point to explore the Peruvian islands of Lake Titikaka, Copacabana served the same purpose on the Bolivian side; specifically the beautiful Isla Del Sol (Island of the Sun). The traditional route to the isla is on-board a very touristy passenger boat that leaves from the shores of Copacabana. As a tourist, I like to explore the road less traveled and, ironically, steer clear of these tourist traps. Thus, my friend and I decided to walk 4 hours along the Peninsula to take another, most likely more expensive, boat. Our decision automatically came to fruition when we were politely stopped along the path by some locals who were enjoying Bolivian spirits at 10:30 in the morning. It was immediately brought to our attention that it was the last day (out of 4) for the Ascension of Christ celebration. On a side note: every holiday in South America seems to be centered around Jesus, with the majority of celebrating focused around drunken merriment. Anyways, it was only polite that we should have a few drinks with our new found friends. Sure, it was 10:30 in the morning and we had a few hours of hiking ahead, but our Bolivian friends were adament. After a few beers, some chit chat, and a few jokes that were over my head, we were on our way again. We were stopped two more times before reaching our destination, both times by cheerful Bolivians that wanted to know where we were from and what we thought of their country. The second time was admittedly a precurson to a sale. The friendly Señor wanted to sell us a trip to Isla Del Sol on his private boat. We were headed there anyways and our feet were weary so we negotiated a fair price (we could have taken the cheaper boat, but would have had to paddle ourselves) and jumped aboard.

Isla Del Sol proved to be as beautiful and unique as rumors had indicated. Despite it being a common tourist destination, there was enough space to avoid the crowds and enjoy the journey back in time. All the locals wore traditional dress and the town had a very authentic feel. We were even lucky enough to witness a Bolivian wedding with it´s unique music, tradition, and many cases of beer. Also, the views were amazing! Some of Bolivia´s highest peaks (many over 6,000 meters) rise majestically out of the lake to pierce the sky with their snow covered summits. The terraced farm land of the island glows green in the setting sun, as the reflection bounces off the waters below. A crisp breeze arrived in the evening that gripped the island tightly as the unaccostomed visitors hurried towards the shelter of hostels or restaurants. As I watched the wedding festivities and the cold began to rattle my bones, I too had to seek refuge inside. So, after a long day, an early night, and a good sleep, it was time to explore the island, which meant (as my followers are accostomed) more walking. It took 3 or 4 hours to walk from one side of the island to the other before we settled on the opposite shore to find a boat back to Copacabana. After a long morning I just wanted to hop in a boat and head back, but the strong winds had prevented the normal entourage of boats from arriving. After an hour of arguing over the capacity in a private boat and the price, we agreed to an over inflated price to go only as far as the Peninsula (Copacabana was too dangerous for boats due to the high winds). Having no choice, we boarded and rode the rough(ish) waters back to the main land before boarding a mini bus to Copacabana, and another onto La Paz.

Some Inca ruins on Isla Del Sol

Our private boat transport friend nourishing the engine

Wedding festivities with plenty of beer

The high snow capped Bolivian peaks rising from Lake Titikaka off in the distance

Pit stop along our hike

Two kids buy sweets at the local store

Arequipa and Canyon Country

2010-05-17T07:56:00.001-07:00

Lately I had been moving a little faster than normal. Due to the constant tick of time and the fact I still wanted to see Bolivia and Argentina, as well as volunteer, I had decided to catch a night bus to Arequipa the same day I returned from our exhausting 3 day Machu Picchu adventure. I figured I could sleep on the bus and save some time... Little did I know how far from the truth this would be. I seemed to be on an unlucky bus streak that was unlikely to end soon. When I purchased my ticket from the company with the lowest price I had a gut feeling the "perks" they promised were either exaggerated or fabricated completely. To keep a long story short and my complaining to a minimum, the bus ended up leaving almost an hour late and the cama (bed) and blanket I was promised were non-existent. The typical action films were blaired throughout the night and at one point I woke up freezing cold to find the windows coated in a centimeter or two of ice. I immediately realized we must be on a high mountain pass because the ground outside was blanketed in snow. It would have been an optimal opportunity to cover myself with my non-existent blanket. Instead I curled into a ball and tried to trap what body heat I had left. We arrived in Arequipa only slightly behind schedule and I only had sleep on my mind.

Arequipa, a beautiful European type city in southern Peru, is Peru's second largest city (next to Lima) and is popular for it's proximity to Colca Canyon. Colca Canyon is the second deepest canyon in the world (the first lies very close in southern Peru as well) and is perfect for a few day trekking trip. However, before embarking I needed a few days of relaxation and recovery after pushing myself so hard. Arequipa was the perfect catalyst. Aftet some sun, sleep, good food, and strolling the bustling thoroughfares I was rejuvenated and ready for another trek.

Thus, after a few days rest my Canadian travel buddy and I set of for Colca Canyon on a series of buses. The first, besides running an hour late, was refreshingly normal. However, my bad luck returned for the second bus... I was surprised when we pulled into the Chivay station to transfer buses onto Cabanaconde and found an orderly line of locals waiting for the second bus. We jumped in line fairly close to the front and we confident we would obtain seats. Unfortunately, the bus arrived and the Peruvian norm reasserted itself: Within seconds the line was a bubble hovered around the door with barely enough time or space for the arriving passangers to make their way off the bus before the blob, with a life of it's own, was funneling to the door. There was pushing, shoving, yelling, cursing, and could have even been some biting going on for all I know. After much effort and just when I was about to board, an old man plowed through me, pushed my friend into the door, and boarded, while proceeding to give me a dirty look. I finally managed to board and occupy one of the last standing spaces on the bus. I would comment how unbelievable this circumstance was, but I had seen it many times before, and it was now an expectation when boarding buses without a ticket.

We had made it in the bus and only had 3 hours of standing... no problem, the locals do it all the time. However, I had one disadvantage in this case... my height. If I stood upright, it was impossible to fit into the bus, so after occupying the fire exit space (it had extra head room where you could pop up the ceiling to exit the bus in an emergency) for about an hour, I was dismayed to be slowly pushed back to where I had to hunch with my ear next to the speaker that blared horrible Peruvian music. After 2 hours, a stiff neck, and one blown ear drum, I almost lost my temper when we arrived... everyone that was seated and those occupying the back of the bus decided they wanted to disembarque first. Another round of pushing and elbowing ensued as little ladies used all their force to be the first off the bus. Instead of lose my temper, all I could do was laugh.

The Colca Canyon proved to be an amazing hike... down to the bottom, across the river, up the other side, across the terrain of the opposite side, and back down to our lodging oasis along the river. It was hot, dry, and after 7 and a half hours it felt good to kick off my shoes and relax. We completed the loop the next morning in just 3 hours of tough uphill hiking. More kilometers on the old boots and another great South American experience.

** I apologize for the lack of pictures in this post... I have been having some trouble uploading with the slow connection speeds in Bolivia. I guess it is just another reason for everyone to come see the pictures when I come home

Machu Picchu

2010-05-17T07:20:00.000-07:00

There are a large variety of tours to get to Machu Picchu with the Inca trail being the most popular. However, we had no reservations and after some debate on how to get there, we decided to go on our own via a series of buses, cars, foot paths, river crossings, and a train. It was myself, a Canadian, and a Spaniard. The plan was a 5 hour bus to the small town of Santa Maria, change to a collectivo (a small car that leaves when it is full) to Santa Theresa, change again into another collectivo to Hydroelectrica, take a zip-line across the river (you used to be able to cross, but the bridge got destroyed in a recent flood), walk an hour to the train station, ride the train to Aguas Calientes to spend the night, and hike the last hour to Machu Picchu early the next morning. If there is one thing I have learned while traveling, it is that not everything goes according to plan.

The initial bus, after leaving almost 40 minutes late, ended up taking 6 hours, and it was 6 hours of great movies (note my sarcasm) and even better music! With step one out of the way, we packed 5 people into a tiny car in Santa Maria, which felt tight until I saw another car of the same size with 12 school kids stuffed inside like luggage, and took off on the hair raising road to Santa Theresa. We must have had the local race car champion as our driver, because he was on a mission. We plowed through water, passed slower drivers with barely enough space for 2, skidded and bumped around corners, and got deathly close to the edge, until the only thing that could slow us down did; clunk, clunk, clunk, the sound of metal on dirt... flat tire. After popping on the spare I noticed the driver had stripped/broken 2 of the 4 bolts on the wheel. Luckily we were very near to Santa Theresa, but I never the less spent the last few miles gripping the door as we rumbled along on a spare that was barely hanging on. Santa Theresa to Hydroelectica and on to the train station was a rush of trail finding, speed walking, and a nice jog to cap it off. In the end, we missed our train by 10 minutes. Plan B: walk 2 hours in the dark along the train tracks to Aguas Calientes. The walk was the most uneventful part of the day and we strolled into Aguas Calientes at about 7:30, more than 12 hours after we had begun our day, exhausted and hungry.

Before I felt I had time to close my eyes the alarm of day 2 sounded at 3:45am and the proximity of Machu Picchu created excitement that silenced the need for sleep. The last hour to 2 of hiking from Aguas Calientes is a series of steep stone stairs that charge up the mountain to one of the most glorious Inca settlements in the world. As the hike began I realized we were not the only people up at such an extreme hour. We were joined by 30, maybe 40 people, and most were ahead of us. As I climbed my fatigue subsided, my legs felt strong, and my lungs took huge gulps of oxygen from the fresh morning air thick with fog. One by one hikers began dropping off, tired from the climb. I passed group after group and finally obtained a few moments of solitude as I hiked toward my destination under the night sky. I knew solitude would be hard to come by on this particular journey, so I consumed it while I could. I was one of the first to arrive at the gates and watched as the other hikers arrived, followed by the employee bus, and finally tour buses full of somewhat less determined visitors.

The initial walk-through was better than I had imagined. No picture could do justice to the feeling and sense of history these ruins hold. As we passed through 500 years of Inca history, the mist and clouds that surrounded us were slowly being pulled back by the rising sun; revealing temples, village houses, terraces, gardens, Andean crosses, and the surrounding mountains. I marveled at how the Incas built this community on the side of an enormous mountain with stones the size of houses and hardly any flat land. Every stone had to be cut and molded, every flat space had to be created, and as we learned later it was unfinished after 100 years of work. We spent the day walking the small corridors, climbing Huana Picchu (the mountain in the background of the famous photos of Machu Picchu), and learning about the construction and significance of different structures. After a wonderful day we headed down in the late afternoon for a hot meal and a soak in the hot springs.

On day 3 it was decided we would go back a different way... There is a train that runs from Aguas Calientes to a town where you can take a bus back to Cusco. However, the train is outrageously expensive (on my tight budget) and only travels 28km. Instead we would walk it. Thus, day 3 was 7 hours of walking 28km along train tracks with some stunning views of the surrounding peaks. Despite the slight boredom of walking on flat land for 7 hours, we had the satisfaction of knowing we returned to Cusco for the price of a Peruvian dinner ($3).

The Sacred Valley

2010-05-09T18:31:00.000-07:00

One bad night bus and 23 hours later were enough to revise my opinion about Peruvian buses. Now my consensus is ¨the bus riding experience is not universally good...it greatly depends what bus company you take¨. For this particular journey from Lima to Cusco we had decided to take a cheaper and lesser known bus company called Flores only for the sake of saving a few dollars. The bus was similar, the seats just as comfortable, and the same 20-25 hour journey would applied to most companies. However, many times the difference between a good bus journey and a bad one is the movie/music selection, volume level of the stated entertainment, and the type of road/driver (and his ability to create a smooth ride). These factors become much more important on a night bus. On this particular journey with Flores the road and driver were just fine, but the rest wasn´t all flowers.

A very common, and completely counterintuitive, practice in South America is to play 1 or many horrifically loud and violent movies throughout the night with the sound on full blast. Try falling asleep with the sounds of screaming women running from Godzilla, while Jean-Claude Van Damme or the governor of California fires machine gun or rocket fire in your ear. Miraculously, the sound of locals snoring can be heard over the madness coming from the crackling speaker system. I, however, could not sleep. The movies coupled with a bad stomach kept me reeling in the fetile position for hours, with frequent trips to the ¨only for number 1¨ bathroom only to disobey this rule, and a plastic bag held close for the almost certain possibility that my stomach wanted to rid itself of the foreigners invading it on short notice. Through some divine interference I eventually managed to fall asleep. When all was said and done 23 hours later I was hungry, tired, had sat through about 8-10 horrible movies, but was happy to be in the sunshine of Cusco.

Cusco is a very interesting city. The grandeur and mystery of massive buildings, large plazas, and Inca ruines make it very popular. This, coupled with it´s proximity to Machu Picchu, fills the streets and shops with droves of tourists and just as many entrepreneurs trying to get a piece of the travelers pocket book. If you want a genuine local experience Cusco is not the place to be, but still a very interesting and unique stop on the Gringo trail. After thinking and saying this to my current travel partners, it was just our luck that we met 2 very friendly locals while exploring the ruines of the Moon Temple...

Kiki and Kula were tour guides taking a rest at the temple and offered to explain the importance of this site for free. After some chatting, picture taking, and jokes, they offered to help us buy bus tickets for our journey to Machu Picchu and later invited us to their house for a proper Peruvian dinner. That night we feasted! After a first course of salchipapas (hot dogs), pollo (chicken), a type of pastry made from maiz (corn), queso (cheese), and cuy (yes, I finally tried the famous guinea pig), we ate rice, vegetable salad, a tender piece of beef, and a delicious cut of ram meat. This was followed by a Peruvian mate (type of tea) and cake. I only wish someday these wonderful hosts will visit my house and I can return the favor.

Next stop... Machu Picchu!

Lima- Peru´s Most Underrated City

2010-05-09T18:04:00.000-07:00

After a short 10 hour night bus I awoke in Lima refreshed and ready to explore. The Peruvian buses are surprisingly comfortable and an upgrade after the rickety, packed night buses of Ecuador. Most Peruvian companies even offer bus cama services (seats that nearly lie flat) for night buses, as well as a meal or two (very small portions but better than most US airline companies offer). Initially, Lima was just going to be a stop over before heading to Cusco. I hadn´t heard the greatest reports from other travelers and the majority of opinions centered around how dangerous, polluted, and oppressively hot it is. I had to see for myself... two days, and many great experiences later, I sided with the pro-Lima camp.

When arriving in a new city, the first thing I like to do is explore as much as I can on foot. This is a larger task in a city of 8 million like Lima, but large areas can still be explored with some extra effort. The first day I explored Miraflores (the popular neighborhood bordering the seaside very close to the city center), checked some prospective cooking schools (I had thoughts of coming home a fine Peruvian chef), chatted with locals in the street, visited the artisian market, and tasted some delicious cuisine. I capped the night off with a friend of mine and a delicious dinner (including Ceviche, a local dish of raw seafood marinated in lime juice and onions) followed by drinks with another friend I had met in Colombia. While having a drink we were introduced to a group of locals enjoying the night and were soon invited to a matrimonial party at one of the couple´s houses the following day. Not a bad day in Lima.

The next day we set aside for exploring the historic center, known for it´s colonial Spanish buildings and architecture. If Cusco and the surrounding area is known as the Inca capital, Lima is the capital of Spanish Conquistador rule. The center did not disappoint in grandeur or in energy. We were lucky enough to arrive for the parade and celebration of ¨Day of the Cross¨, a fusion holiday to pay homage to the Christian cross and the Inca cross (or astrological southern cross). The sun was shining, music was thumping in the street, and dancers and musicians marched past in their traditional dress. All the excitement of the day slowly came to a close as the sun began to set in the Peruvian sky. We had a party to attend with our friends from the night before and rushed back to our hostel to change and get ready. We arrived at their house to find no party (it had been changed to a different location), but perfect hospitality, great conversation, and the warmth of strangers who were slowly becoming close friends. The locals seemed to be just another side of Lima that is over looked.

Unfortunately it was only a short stop in a kind city, but the journey had to continue; Cusco and the Sacred Valley lay in wait!

Beaches, Temples, and Mountians- Huanchaco and Huaraz

2010-05-02T08:15:00.000-07:00

I continued my journey south into the heart of Peru and the many ruines of civilizations past. My next stop was Huanchaco. This small beach town lies in the arid coastal region of Peru and reminded me of the expansive desert of New Mexico with adobe houses scattered on the thirsty land, but with the added effect of ocean waves teasing the dryness of the desert with each crash. Known for it´s surf and proximity to some of Northern Peru´s most famous archeological sites, Huanchaco was the perfect place to soak up some sun and visit the past...

One of these communities, known as Chan Chan, is currently being restored. It is a massive village made of numerous citadels and adobe structures carved with great care and patience. Each citadel is a huge network of different passage ways, burial sites, gathering centers, and rooms for the inhabitants (as well as rooms only for treasures and offerings to the Gods). The walls of the citadel are massive and the depth and scale is impressive. The citadel housed the current king and his family and hosted large town gatherings, funerals and burials. When the king died, often his immediate family was killed in order to join him in the after life, and they were all buried together in the enormous tombs. After this ceremony took place construction would begin on a new citadel for the next king. As a result of this practice numerous citadels now exist in the city of Chan Chan. It is quite an enormous collection of pre-Inca ruines.

The other site of interest I visited was The Temple of the Moon (Huaca del Luna), with views of The Temple of the Sun (Huaca del Sol). Both temples and surrounding villages were built by the Mochi people prior to Inca civilizations in Peru. Similar to Chan Chan, the temples are large adobe and brick structures with symbols of great importance carved into the walls. However, unlike Chan Chan, this site is left largely unrestored and still stands dominantly on the landscape. One practice used by both the Mochi people and the Chimu people of Chan Chan was the offering of human flesh to the Gods. Massive killings and burials were practiced to impress the Gods and bring luck and good fortune to the people of these civilizations. It struck me how barbaric this practice would be if it were still considered normal today. After a day of touring both Chan Chan and the temples I returned to Huanchaco to cap the day with a gorgeous sunset.

After almost two weeks away from the mountains, I was beginning to feel nostalgic and hopped on the next bus to Huaraz. This unique mountain town is known around Peru and South America as a trekker/mountain climbing/outdoor haven for enthusiasts. It is flanked on one side by the famous Colrdillera Blanca and on the other by the Cordillera Negra. Massive peaks, many larger than 6,000 meters, pierce through the horizen, defying gravity. I decided the best views and greatest way to feel the energy of these monsters was to get as close as I could. The answer: 3 days and 52km of trekking through the valleys and mountains passes to get a taste of this wilderness. The weather proved to be tempermental and it wasnt until the third day that the clouds lifted and the staggering views appeared. Words fail to describe the power of such a place, but I enjoyed every second as my feet found a rhythm and my brain exploded with dopamine.

After almost a week in Huaraz, I was torn between it and the unknown places I had yet to explore. Curiousity triumphed and I bought my bus ticket out of this mountain haven and on to Lima (Peru´s capital and colonial center).

Northern Peru

2010-04-18T17:12:00.000-07:00

It was fitting that the land the bus rumbled through in northern Peru was a vast desert sucked dry of water and nourishment. It is a befitting landscape for a country with a turbulent history, torn apart by war, drugs, conquests, corruption, and explotation. I stared blankly as we passed pueblos full of small adobe houses with only a tin roof held down by rocks supplying protection from the elements. Mototaxis, buses, and old cars zipped around the streets, crisscrossing intersections with the skill and awareness of veteran Nascar drivers. The chaos seemed on the verge of explosion, yet, to my amazement, no accidents occured and the system functioned. I was content to stare out the window and watch the world pass by. I had just safely crossed what is known as ¨the most dangerous border crossing in all of South America¨, and had done so with some nervousness but with little evidence that could validate the claim. I was expecting theives, corrupt border officials, crazy taxi drivers who would rob you of all possessions, and pickpocketing children. I received curtiosness, honesty, and not a thief or pickpocket in sight. Either way, my time in Ecuador had come to an end and another chapter, Peru, was opening in front of me.

I made brief stops in Piura and Chiclayo only to break up my journey. However, I was drawn to Chiclayo imparticular for its Mercado Modelo, also known as the witches market. It is known to have potions and elixers for numerous ailments and purposes. Drinks to bring luck, trinkets for love, crocodile teeth for increased wealth, and soap that can bring all three. I was unsure if the sellers really believed in their products or were only trying to make a buck. I couldnt get a straight answer because whenever I asked if these objects provided the intended result, I was told of course they do (stupid question right?). What would you say if you were selling your car and I asked you if it was a good car? Therefore, I will never know if I could have washed with special soap and become a millionare with all the love I needed and enough luck to last a life time.

My time here is flying by and I am starting to feel the pressure of the real world and life away from this adventure. I have 3 months left and still want to explore Peru, Bolivia, and Argentina, while considering my future, trying to land some volunteer positions, and studying more Spanish. Maybe if there was an elixer to slow time or offer me extra I would have purchased it. Oh well, there are always options and I am open to the possibility that life can offer the answer when you least expect it.

Vilcabamba

2010-04-05T14:41:00.000-07:00

Vilcabamba was the next step on my trek south to Peru. It is a small town nestled between lush green mountains and is known ecologically as a buffer zone to the nearby Podocarpus National Park. The climate is temperate with slightly greater humidity than other places along the Andean chain. The valley here is termed ¨the valley of longevity¨ for the astronomically old age the average inhabitant reaches. This may be a result of the almost perfect climate, the relaxed pace of life, the beauty and tranquility that prolong health, or an assortment of various explanations. Whatever the case, I stepped off the bus and could immediately sense the laid back atmosphere.

My plan was to stay at Rumi Wilco, an ecolodge and nature reserve on the outskirts of Vilcabamba, and volunteer on various projects. The name Rumi Wilco comes from two Quichua words, ¨Rumi¨, which means rock and represents the rocky soul that exists here, and ¨Wilco¨, which is the sacred tree that grows in the region and has been used by natives for thousands of years for a multitude of reasons. I turned out to be the only volunteer at the time and enjoyed the pefect mixture of hard work and peaceful relaxation. I spent half the day working on projects around the reserve, which included weeding, building planter boxes, trail restoration work, and planting Wilcos as part of a greater reforestation project. The rest of the day I spent enjoying all the reserve has to offer.

I had a small adobe hut all to myself with a porch, bathroom, kitchen, and of course, a hammock. The reserve has a series of hiking trails, which explore the adjacent mountain, innumerable species of flora and fauna, clean, unfiltered drinking water, and many bathing spots along the river. It is apparant the owners put enormous effort into the success and sustainability of this project and I am happy I was a part of it. I only hope during my hard work and even harder relaxation that I absorbed some of the youthfulness that saturates the air of Vilcabamba.

Cajas National Park

2010-03-25T11:31:00.000-07:00

After just two days rest from Cotopaxi, I was in Cuenca looking for a way to hike and explore the beautiful Ecuadorian land. I spent hours looking for a tour into Cajas National Park, 1 hour away from Cuenca, with minor luck. Everything was either too short or too expensive. Ideally, I wanted to find another person, rent some gear, and explore a portion of the park by backpacking in and camping. The next company I checked with offered an expensive ($218) two day tour or a 1 day tour for $40. As I thought to myself how outragiously expensive these prices were, I realized another customer was next to me looking for a way to go to Cajas and seemed to be thinking the same thing. Four hours later and we had a tent, sleeping bags, water, and food for the next 2 days of backpacking! It amazes me how sometimes the exact thing you desire can just fall in your lap.

The next day it was raining in Cuenca and we considered calling off the trip but figured it would clear. The forecast was for clouds, not rain. The first day proved rather short and easy to our campsite. The trail had specified a difficulty in hiking that I had wondered if it existed. The only difficult aspect of day 1 had been the rain (which was intermittent). The only time it really poured the Universe provided a cave around the next corner carved into the adjacent mountainside. We huddled inside and stayed warm until the rain subsided. Other than this one hiccup, the trail was straight forward and slightly downhill.

After a semi-cold night, day 2 began with the sounds of rain on the tent roof and when I looked ouside the sky was covered in dark clouds. After we waited a while for the rain to subside and finally got a break in the clouds, we packed up and set out for the road. At the time I thought it would be an easy jaunt to the road. I couldnt have been more wrong. Initially, the hiking was not too bad, just wet and muddy. We zigzagged and picked our way around mud holes and water until we reached what I have decided to call Jungle Hell. At this point, the trail forced (and I mean FORCED) its way through thick forest. With our packs on, we climbed over and under fallen trees, skirted mud holes, scaled rocks, and walked ever so slowly through this jungle hell. After 1 hour or more and only about 200 yards, we finally emerged from the other side victorious. Jungle Hell was just the beginning...

Directly after breaking free from the strangling grip of the dense forest, we had a short climb and sat at the top of a pass sucking oxygen as the rain started again. The clouds rolled over the tops of surrounding mountains and the cold rain pelted my already soaking paints and shoes. The rest of the trail proved to be very slow, wet, and yes, DIFFICULT. Because everything was muddy and slippery it was very slow. At times we were slidding down slick rocks or hanging our lives onto branches and tree trunks. Some areas it was necessary to remove our packs and launch them ahead to avoid the inevitable tumble with a pack attached. Still yet, there were occassions when, out of shear odds, we made a wrong step and went slidding down a small pitch or fell knee deep into a mud hole. After hours of walking slowly, criss-crossing rivers, and tumbling and falling, we made it to solid ground. As I walked toward the final stretch of road, I again felt like a zombie. I shuffled one foot at a time and thought about food and sleep.

Cotopaxi (5,897 meters)

2010-03-23T07:06:00.000-07:00

As out truck rumbled along the dirt road to Cotopaxi National Park and I looked to my right, all I could see was the towering mass of Cotopaxi covered with glacial ice. Cotopaxi is the second highest mountain in Ecuador at 5,897 meters (19,347 feet) and has spewed lava as recently as 1942 with some activity starting again in 2003. One day prior I had decided to climb to the summit with not much preperation or acclimitization. Now, as we rumbled closer and I saw this monster tower towards the sun, I heard the voice of doubt becoming slightly audible. My backpack was full of the necessary gear; a sleeping bag, crampons, ice axe, harness, warm clothes, and plenty of water. Our small group consisted of the Ecuadorian guide, a girl from Austria I had met two days prior, and myself (feeling almost like a true mountaineer).

After arriving at the parking lot at 4,500 meters (14,763 feet) and hiking to the refuge at 4,800 meters (15,748), I knew the ensuing climb would not be easy. The first day was fairly mellow and designed for proper acclimitization. We arrived at the refuge in the afternoon, ate lunch, climbed to 5,000 meters (16,404) to practice some techniques on the glacier, and descended back to the refuge for dinner and some rest. We were alotted 5 hours of ¨sleep¨ before our wake-up call at 12am. Sleep proved to be very elusive...

As I lay in the dark unable to sleep, my stomach rumbled, nausea crept in, and I felt a slight headache start to develop. Were these effects of the altitude taking shape or were my nerves asserting themselves? But what was there to be nervous about? I had done this a million times, it was just walking. Whatever the reason, this was not a good way to start of a hike of such magnitude. The night passed slowly and I probably slept 20 minutes before being woken close to midnight for breakfast and preperation. I downed some bread, granola, yogurt, and coca tea (used extensively in high altitude regions of South America to combat altitude sickness), filled my bottle with more tea, and pulled on every item of clothing I owned.

I stepped out into the frosty air and the shadow of Cotopaxi stood luminously overhead, directly under a sea of stars. Wow! It was 1am and we were only just beginning. With every step my head pounded and my stomach churned, but the air was clean and pure and the views continually became more stunning. The shimmering lights of Quito, miles and miles away, came into view; the snow and ice crunched under my feet; and I focus only on the next step. I slowly became stronger and my head cleared. I started to really enjoy the experience and focus less on reaching the top. The journey was the destination.

We forged on and the mental ups and downs came and went. We crossed over gorges in the glacier on ice bridges , huddled for breaks in ice caves, worked our way up steep ascents and narrow ledges, and slowly came closer and closer to the peak. All of a sudden, I noticed the sun had started to rise and was illuminating everything around. As the sun rose higher in the sky, we climbed. Finally at 8am, 7 hours after our start, we had arrived! The weather couldn´t have cooperated more and we had beautiful 360 degree views. We could see other snow capped peaks, a sea of clouds below, and the crater from the latest eruption. As these sites nearly took my breath away I noticed how little oxygen existed at this altitude. The lack of oxygen begins to take a toll on your body and I could feel my headache start to creep back and fatigue begin to set in.

The descent was almost harder than the ascent. I walked like a zombie towards the promise of oxygen rich air that could restore my depleted cells. After a total of 11 hours we arrived back at the refuge and I drank my last cup of coca tea as I tried to recover the energy to walk to the car.

Bogotá

2010-03-14T13:28:00.000-07:00

Directly after the tranquility and fresh air of Cocuy National Park, I somehow ended up in the sprawling city that is Bogotá. The capital of Colombia is surrounded by mountains and located at a fairly high altitude. The city of 8 million plus inhabitants is actually quite inviting and beautiful. To fully appreciate the sprawl of Bogotá I took a ride up a cable car to the top of a nearby mountain and a church called Monserrate. From this vantage point one can truly see the expanse of concrete, medal, and brick that extends as far as the eye can see.

What started as a compact city has expanded further and further out into the valley as hordes of people from the surrounding countryside flocked to the capital for work. The unfortunate masses that failed to find decent jobs are now etching out an existence in the outlying slums.

Although the views from Monserrate were revealing, I needed to get inside the city and feel the pulse of different neighborhoods. To accomplish this, in addition to walking and taking buses around the city, I found a company that offered bike tours. This seemed the perfect way to explore while learning some Colombian history. The tour was great and the guide very informative. He talked about the history of Colombia, the ongoing war between guerrillas, paramilitaries, and the Colombian government, and the symbology behind certain national landmarks and buildings. We carefully rode through the congested streets, avoiding cars and pedestrians while trying to take in the sites as my senses were overloaded. We visited markets, landmarks, parks, libraries, and the main university campus. We viewed graffiti with both a political feel and an artistic appeal. The tour showed the participants a unique picture of Bogotá and was a perfect way to spend the day.

Between the views from Monserrate and my exploration of the city by bus, bike, and foot, I was able to get a good taste of the Colombian capital. Bogotá surprised me with it´s quant streets filled with restaurants, its large presence of universities, and the diversity of its neighborhoods. Unfortunately, my temporary visa was going to expire soon and the time had come to leave Colombia. I felt a slight sadness to leave such a great country, but also an excitement from the knowledge I had many more adventures ahead of me.

Parque Nacional Cocuy

2010-02-27T15:54:00.000-08:00

Deep in the Colombian high country, in the heart of the Parámo lies Cocuy, a small, lazy town that allows the visitor to travel back in time and enjoy the unique culture and slow pace of this oasis. After spending one night in San Gil I was persuaded to go to Cocuy National Park. The national park consists of a chain of mountains (many reaching altitudes above 5,000 meters/16,000 feet), the unique high country of the Paramo, numerous lakes, and some of South America´s last remaining glaciers. Also, due to the armed conflict between the Colombian government, paramilitaries, and the guerrila movements (F.A.R.C. and the E.L.N.), the area is virtually untouched by tourism. The situation is much safer under the Uribe government and what better time to visit this untouched paradise than now! The following is a brief outline of my 7 days in this haven...
Day 1- Finally we arrived in Cocuy at 5:30 in the morning. The bus had rumbled and wove along a single lane dirt road for 9 hours, making it impossible to sleep. However, my spirits were immediately lifted after stepping off the bus and back in time. We were surrounded by old men in ponchos and cowboy hats, ladies in dresses, a few old trucks, and gorgeous mountains. The rest of the day was for exploration, preperation, and relaxation. After purchasing a park pass, buying food, and finding a park map, we were able to fit in a short 3 hour hike to a lookout point high above Cocuy before my exhaustion got the best of me and I had to settle into bed.

Day 2- Woke up at 5:30am to catch the local milk truck (primary mode of transportation into the mountains for travelers and locals alike) into the park for our first stop along the circuit. After arriving at our accomodation with a local family high in the paramo at 3,800 meters, we set off for a hike to 4 lagunas (topping out at 4,400 meters). The family, Los Herreros, turned out to be more than accommodating. They own a small house with a kitchen, a small room for a table, their bedroom (for 3 people), and a room just big enough to squeeze two double beds for their guests. They have no hot water, electricity, or insulation, but extra generosity, amazing food, and many blankets to make up for this lack of western comforts. We ate dinner by candlelight, the mother cooked us breakfast and served hot chocolate at 4am before our big hike, and we chatted with the daughter about life in the paramo and her future hopes and dreams.

Day 3- Woke up in the darkness of 4am for a delicious breakfast of eggs, bread, cheese, and hot chocolate. At 4:30, with headlights strapped to our heads, bellies full, and every piece of clothing I owned hugging my shivering body, we set off for Pulpito Del Diablo (The Devil´s Alter). Pulpito is a staggeringly immense rock formation that juts from the mountain at 5,200 meters above sea level. It took us 4 hours to reach the base of the glacier, beyond which it was impossible to advance without ice climbing gear, moments before the 10am clouds began to creep in from the valley floor. As an aside it is worth mentioning the clouds. Instead of coming from above, they would always slowly creep up from the valley below (usually beginning to reach our heights around 10am) and begin to circle and hover the mountain tops for the duration of the day. Thus, it was necessary to begin early and descend before visability was low. We returned to our cozy adobe 9 hours and 18km after we had left with aching legs and growling stomaches. After a very nice candlelit dinner I retreated to the warmth of the wool blankets and fell asleep.

Day 4- Woke up at 5:30am in order to hike 3km to catch the morning milk truck. Transportation was always centered around the milk truck and if we didn´t catch it when it passed (very early), we would be walking a long distance to our next destination. We hopped aboard and marvelled at the passing scenery as the truck inched towards La Esperanza, stopping every few minutes to collect the neighbors milk. We arrived in La Esperanza at 8:30 and had to hurry if we were going to get a hike in. This day proved to be much harder than I had expected and we eventually reached Lagunas Grande de la Sierra after 5 hours and 11km. The height of the lake was dizzying at 4,800 meters and because of the cloud cover visibility wasn´t great. We hurried down as the sun slowly fell towards the horizen. The day concluded with a quick dinner (which I am surprised I didn´t fall asleep into) and bed.

Day 5- Finally some sleep... because we had to wait for the milk truck (we were further on the route), we slept until 7am! Next stop Cabañas Kanwara. These quant little cabins rested at 4,000 meters and were the perfect jumping off point to climb Ritacuba Blanco. However, we didn´t arrive until 10:30 or so, much to late to hike that day, so I decided to take a much needed rest day. I spent time hanging with the sheep while I caught up on some reading and writting.

Day 6- Woke up at 6am to begin the highest of all climbs, Ritacuba Blanco. The tip of the peak, which is unattainable without ice climbing gear, sits at 5,300 meters (17,400 feet). I knew from the start we couldn´t summit but wanted to hike as high as I could without gear. The hike seemed fairly easy and we made it to the snow line at about 10am and back down by 1pm. This hike was one of the most beautiful hikes in the park and we were rewarded with sweeping 360 degree views. I am guessing we reached about 5,000 meters and I found this to be physically and mentally easier than prior days. My body and mind must have become accustomed to the difficulty of climbing at altitude, which left plenty of room to enjoy the scenery.

Day 7- After days of hiking through some of Colombia´s most pristine wilderness, it was time to leave. After a huge breakfast of fruit, soup, bread, cheese, eggs, jam, and a single saltine cracker we hopped aboard a local jeep and trundled back to Cocuy.

It is hard to put into words the peacefulness and tranquility that exists here. While hiking through this paradise I felt a satisfaction and joy I haven´t felt in any other place. Horses, cows, sheep, and goats graze on surrounding hillsides. The only sound at times is the wind, a rushing river, or a glacial waterfall crashing over cliffs. Other times, nothing. No sound at all; pure silence. I cannot say enough about the generosity and warmth of the people here. My time in Colombia is winding down and I am not looking forward to leaving a place with so much spirit and heart.

Next stop Bogotá...

Santa Marta

2010-02-26T16:09:00.000-08:00

Santa Marta was the next stop on the agenda. The plan was to stay one night in Santa Marta before continuing on to Taganga (a small fishing village) and Parque Tayrona (a beautiful national park on the Caribbean coast). However, I stumbled upon a great hostel in Santa Marta and ended up staying 2 weeks. The dreamers hostel is owned by a gregarious Italian and is located in the Mamatoco neighborhood of Santa Marta, away from the city center and main tourist attractions, but very close to everything via bus (30 min. to the entrance of Parque Tayrona, 10 min. to the center of Santa Marta, 20 min. to Taganga, etc.). I made friends with the neighbors, met some great travelers, and found it very hard to leave. From this central base I explored numerous different beaches (including Parque Tayrona for 2 nights), scuba dove in Taganga, checked out the hustle and bustle of central Santa Marta, traveled to Baranquilla to enjoy the culture and parties of Carnaval, and hiked in the quant inland village of Minca.

Rather than describe these two weeks in detail I decided it is better to focus on the highlights; the first being the people and culture of the coast. Here I observed a much different vibe; a more laid back, friendly, talk now and work later atmosphere. On one occasion I struck up a conversation with the park maintenance man after he offered the park hose so I could wash my feet free of sand from the beach. After 1o minutes of choppy spanish conversation the gentleman invited me to his house for a lunch of fish and a game of street futbol. Unfortunately, when I went to meet him that Sunday in the park I failed to find him and thus missed out on this experience; but the simple fact I was invited to his house after 10 minutes of conversation is a great example of the generosity and openness of Colombians.

Another aspect of the culture I have grown to enjoy immensely is the chaos of the street markets. Imagine the complete opposite of peace and quite. Sellers line the streets for numerous blocks and hawk their goods to passerbye. Clothes, backpacks, crafts, artisan goods, pirated movies for 50 cents, food stands, fresh juice stands, and all the junk you can imagine. My absolute favorite aspect of Santa Marta was the fresh juice. For 1 dollar you can buy a custom made juice blended with either milk or water and two fruits of your choice. This, accompanied by a fresh Patacon (pressed and fried plantain filled with meat, potatoes, rice, cheese, and vegetables) for 35 cents, makes a fabulous lunch.

The second highlight was Parque Tayrona. This national park, one of many in Colombia, is known for it´s beautiful beaches. I spent 3 days and 2 nights hiking to different beaches of the park, swimming, and sleeping in a hammock on the beach.

Last, but certainly not least, was the Carnaval of Baranquilla. Carnaval consists of many parades, parties, and celebrations leading up to the Catholic period of Lent. It takes place in many different places, with Baranquilla being the second largest of Latin America next to Brazil. Due to the fact I was a 2 hour bus journey from Baranquilla I couldn´t miss it. The accomodation I thought I had arranged in Baranquilla fell through at the last minute, so I decided to take a bus in the morning and stay as long as I could into the night before taking a bus back to Santa Marta to sleep. I headed off with a few friends, with no plan and no idea what to expect...

What turned out to be a great day, turned into an even better night. Initially we found the parade and watched for a few minutes under the heat of the sun before we were escorted by police officers to the front row under the shade of a canopy. They told us it was safer and because of the tremendous upgrade we did not argue. From here we enjoyed the parade, met the locals around us, had shaving cream battles with the kids, and enjoyed delicious sausages that a local lady we had just met purchased for us. Afterwards, one of the locals we met during the parade invited us to his barrio for a night full of partying and dancing in the street.

He was the perfect host; after taking us to the best street stand for food, we walked through the streets lined with party after party. Each block had huge speakers blasting cumbia, bachata, and salsa into the night. As we walked the songs changed but the atmosphere and celebrations of the people stayed the same. We settled on his block and chatted and danced the night away. At about 1 or 2 in the morning one of the neighbors brought piping hot soup out for everyone and the dancing continued. Finally, at 6am the next morning we caught a bus back to Santa Marta for some much needed sleep. Overall, I had a great time in Santa Marta, but after two weeks it was time to leave...

Medellin, Cartagena, Santa Marta

2010-02-07T20:35:00.000-08:00

After leaving the beautiful countryside of Salento I headed for the sprawling city of Medellin. What was once Colombia´s drug capital and home of the infamous Pablo Escobar, is now a reconstructed, modern city, surrounded by lush green hills (as much of Colombia´s sourther territory is), and temperate weather. I didn´t spend much time in Medellin, but what did catch my eye was the contrast between the city center, with it´s many extravagent churches and large commercial centers, and the outlying low income neighborhoods. Medellin has an efficient subway system connecting these two very different areas and the government recently completed an extension to reach the furthest areas of the surrounding neighborhoods by way of cable car (think gondola in Vail or Beaver Creek). The cable car serves two purposes: it connects people in the outer regions to the center, and offers fabulous views from high atop the hills that guard Medellin. From this unique vantage point the rider has a birds eye view of everything. Beyond the obvious differences of rich and poor (size of houses, worksmanship, materials, the proximity of each house to it´s neighbors, distance to the city center, etc.), if you look closely, there exists many subtle differences. In the ¨poor¨ areas I observed a rich culture full of music, camaraderie amoung inhabitants, children playing futbol in the street, friends passing the day together, and a slower pace of life. In the ¨rich¨areas I witnessed a much faster pace; sellers hawking thier goods in the streets, business men rushing to appointments, tourists strolling the streets, and a general sense of a pressing need to get somewhere or do something. I am not implying one form of life is better than the other, only describing my observations.

From Medellin, I flew to Cartagena, the famous city on the northern Caribbean coast protected by walls, century towers, and cannons. It is a beautiful, romantic city, fortified against attacks from thieves and pirates in search of treasure. I wandered through the streets in amazement trying to invision being under siege. I was content being safe and instead sipped fresh mango juice and watched local women sell fruit from large metal bins they carried on their head.

Most recently, I have spent many days relaxing on beaches, sipping fresh juice, eating great food, and learning many new things about culture, people, life, the world, and most importantly my self. I have a feeling it will be hard to leave Colombia, but until then I will enjoy it to the fullest!

Life in paradise (La vida en paraiso)...

Colombia!!

2010-01-21T13:10:00.000-08:00

Baños was a great place, and although the volcano eluded me the four days I was in its shadow, I caught a glimpse of it´s smoking cone while I ascended north out of town. Supposedly (still uncomfirmed), the volcano erupted two days after I left. I recounted my luck of having stood at the refuge (at the base of the summit) just four days prior to the eruption with all the confidence in the world as I listened to the lava crackle and spit above me.

Since my arrival in South America I have toyed with the idea of going north to Colombia, an enchanting country with a dark side (which is mostly enhanced through the media). I had already began my travel south from Quito, but something kept pulling me back to Colombia. Whether it was the good reports from fellow travelers, my curiosity, or my proximity to the country, I decided to find out for my self what all the fuss was about and head north...

On my way to Colombia I made a quick pit stop in Quilotoa. I am unsure if one can even classify Quilotoa as a town, but it´s stunning beauty and enchantment draws visitors, and therefore it consists of some hostels and a few small tiendas. The majority of visitors are drawn by the large crater lake formed by the eruption of Quilotoa many years ago (the volcano now lies dormant). The views are majestic and the natural peace this place conjurs is unmatched. It was hard to leave, but my journey had to continue onward.

Quilotoa Lake at Sunrise

While journeying away from Quilotoa I could not help but notice the basic state of living on the hills and countryside surrounding the lake. I don´t like to use the word ¨poverty¨ because poverty implies a sense of desperation and unhappiness and from what I could tell these people had farms, animals, and although they worked very hard, always seemed to have a smile and presence of happiness. However, they did live in huts made of mud and grass from the earth and worked all day in the fields. I noticed that many age very quickly but retain a certain beauty only the land can supply. The women wear beautifully stitched dresses and traditional hats and to my amazement most wore high heals. As I stared out the window of my passing bus, in my security and comfort, I realized how different my existence is from these people. Not for better or worse, just different. After a full day and a half of traveling I was in Colombia and enjoying beautiful mountain scenery as our bus meandered north...

On my way north in Colombia I made a few short stops in Popayan and Cali. Popayan has the look and feel of a colonial town. It has whitewashed buildings and bustling streets. I was lucky and showed up the day of Popayan´s birthday celebration, which meant live music, crowded streets, great food, and fireworks. My first night in Colombia was a success! Next stop Cali... A city of 2.5 million residents, famous for salsa and plastic surgery. Unfortunately, the salsa clubs were at half speed during the week, but the plastic surgery was in full swing.

Finally, I made a longer stop in Salento, a small town in the coffee region. It was one of the most beautiful places on my journey and I filled my days with a perfect mixture of hiking and relaxing.

Coffee region

Just a normal afternoon

Feast for breakfast

Famous wax palms which only grow in this region

Although Colombia is a country that has been torn by constant turmoil and bloodshed, the natural beauty of the landscape and the people have endured and still offer the warmth of their presence and the strength of their hearts. They are as resilient as the coffee that grows in the region. I am in constant wonderment about the contrast between the beautiful landscapes and generous people of Colombia and the dark shadow of drugs and war.

New Year, Otavalo, and Baños

2010-01-09T11:50:00.001-08:00

As I mentioned in my last post, I returned to Quito for the New Year celebration. Unfortunately, I was sick and stayed awake just long enough to ring in the New Year, then returned home to get some much needed sleep. However, I was able to enjoy the different traditions of the Quiteños before my early departure to my bed. One such tradition is the burning of muñecos. During the week preceding the last day of the year, the people of Ecuador are busy preparing wooden and paper dummies of presidents, politicians, and famous celebrities from around the world. On the 31st of December, there are parades, music, plenty of food, and everyone floods the streets to celebrate the close of the old year. At midnight, the muñecos are set on fire in the streets and bystanders can wander through town witnessing hundreds of small bonfires burning symbolic figures while fireworks explode in the sky. It is quite a site and it occured to me while I strolled the streets how illegal this practice would be in the US. The other tradition of interest, but with less rationality, is what I term the transexual tradition. Every nuevo año men dress up as women and prevent passing cars from crossing their path unless the driver pays a small fee. I don't understand the reasioning behind this, but everyone seems to go along with the tradition and quietly pays the fee as they pass.

On the first of January I headed to Otavalo, a small market driven town 2 hours north of Quito, to enjoy the weekend in the beautiful northern mountains of Ecuador. Every Saturday in Otavalo hundreds of vendors flood into town to sell their goods to locals and foreigners in one of the biggest markets in Ecuador. You can buy anything from wool sweaters made from Alpaca to instruments, blankets, fruit, and numerous trinkets. It is quite a spectacle and entertaining if only to stroll the aisles and make small talk with the vendors. After experiencing the market, we were able to hire a taxi for the 45 minute journey to a nearby alpine lake called Laguno Mojando. From there, I summited a peak called Fuya Fuya, which is just under 14K feet. I felt it took much less effort than a 14K foot mountain normally would in Colorado, which is probably due to my acclimitization in Quito. The area was gorgeous and a perfect way for me to ring in the New Year in South America!

Now I am in Baños, another mountain town known for its outdoor sports and thermal baths (from the active volcano of Tungarahua). My first day I rented a mountain bike for $5 for the whole day and rode downhill for 20 kilometers to view 5 different waterfalls. It was an amazing trip and we stopped off in a small town for a wonderful lunch of freshly caught trout and rice. Yesterday we rented bikes again, hired a truck to drive us up to the base of Tungarahua, and hiked 4 hours to the refuge at 3,800 meters (the refuge lies at the base of the active volcano of Tungarahua). Unfortunately, it was raining and cloudy the whole time so we could not see the lava spewing from the top, but we could hear the consistent rumble of volcanic activity. It was a surreal experience, especially being able to hear the sound so close. After our descent, we rode our bikes down a steep dirt track back to Baños. It has been raining for three days, but I have still managed to do some great hikes and activities here. On to the next place!

Some Pictures from the Jungle

2010-01-07T08:30:00.000-08:00

These are just a few of the pictures from the Jungle. The internet connection is slow, and thus the minimal amount of pictures, but I will try to post more soon.

La Selva, La Costa, y Navidad

2009-12-30T11:51:00.000-08:00

My apologies for not posting in quite some time; I have been very busy traveling to different places in Ecuador. Two weekends ago I went on a 2 night weekend trip to the jungle with some friends. It was about 6 hours in a bus from Quito to a small jungle town called Tena, where we spent one night. The next morning we traveled by bus to Misahualli, a small village on the banks of the Rio Napo. The trip was set up through my school and they arranged a stay with an indigenous community in the heart of the jungle close to Misahualli. We arrived in the community to find numerous different animals I had never seen nor heard of before. Monkeys climbed up to greet us, while Toucans relaxed close by. We learned about all the plants the community uses in the absence of traditional doctors. Instead of a medical professional, each tribe has a Shaman who knows all the plants and their medicinal uses. If you need anything you visit the Shaman. It was fascinating to learn about a civilization that for many years existed without any contact from the outside world. Many of these tribes and their customs are only beginning to be discovered. Obviously there is a good side and a bad side to this. The positive aspect is our ability to learn massive amounts of information from these cultures, but the negative aspect is that the depth and mystery of these native cultures is slowly decaying because of their contact with the outside world and our many luxuries. I feel blessed at having the opportunity to experience this and can only hope the money I spent will go towards preserving the culture and not eroding it.

The following week, after only two days of classes, I jumped aboard another bus headed for the beach!! It took around 7 hours to arrive in a small town called Bahia de Caraquez, from where we took a small boat to San Vicente, and another bus to an amazing secluded beach town called Canoa. We found a perfect hostel on the beach and settled in for 5 glorious days. The main activity each day was to relax, but I was able to ride a horse on the beach one day and attempt to surf. It was a beautiful spot where all the locals surf by day and party on the beach by night. I spent Christmas in Canoa and the hostel even made a traditional turkey feast for the guests. It was my first Christmas on the beach, and although I missed my family and friends back home, I was happy to spend Christmas in such a beautiful place. By the end of my time in Canoa I had become accustomed to the slower pace of life and didn't want to leave.

Tonight is the celebration of the Old Year here (instead of celebrating the New Year, they celebrate the Año Viejo) in Quito and I am looking forward to witnessing the many traditions of the Quiteños. I will write soon about the celebrations and post pictures when I have some time.

Mitad del Mundo, Mindo, and more...

2009-12-15T12:24:00.000-08:00

I couldn't come all the way to Ecuador and miss going to the spot that marks the line dividing the northern and southern hemispheres... thus, I made the short bus ride to Mitad del Mundo (the center of the world). There is a museum set up for visitors to explain many different aspects of the famous line.

According to the ancient civilization of the Incas the line dividing the two hemispheres is a very important and spiritual place. We learned how the ancient Incas lived, the rituals they practiced, and saw some of their inventions. The Incas believed this unique spot in Ecuador was situated perfectly in reference to the rotation of the Earth and positioning of the sun (although other spots around the world mark the equator). The intelligence of the Incas is transmitted through their inventions, while the evidence of their evolution is apparant in some of their barbaric activities (such as cutting off and shrinking the heads of their enemies).

In addition, the museum had many experiments to "prove" that certain phenomenon only exist at the equator, but upon further research I learned these experiments are solely to add to the mystique and are staged for tourists. Overall, the museum was very interesting and well worth the trip.

Over the weekend I traveled to Mindo, a small town located in the cloud forest and famous for it's numerous different bird species. Although I didn't participate in any birdwatching tours due to lack of money, it was the perfect spot to relax and breath the fresh air of the mountains. I went with my friend from the Czech Republic and we hiked to 6 different waterfalls, visited the butterfly museum, and enjoyed the break from the city. The highlight of the trip was meeting two amazing locals (Victor and Kerry) who own a coffee shop in town. They also own a small piece of land and practice organic and sustainable farming. We talked about farming, ate wonderful food, and even jammed on Victor's guitar.

Below are some pictures from the beautiful scenery in Mindo...

And finally... during class we periodically research and give a small presentation on local fruit or food. Today were some presentations about local foods of Ecuador followed by tastings. Below is a picture of the delectable items.

More Pictures...

2009-12-10T12:12:00.001-08:00

Parade in Quito celebrating the founding 475 years ago.

Unique Floats for the Parade

Parque Alameda

Steep Climb to Parque Itchimbia

A great view from Parque Itchimbia

Hot dogs??

Espumilla

Best view in the City- Parque Itchimbia

Festivals in Quito

2009-12-07T12:25:00.000-08:00

It has been a very exciting time to be in Quito. The city just celebrated its 475th anniversary on Sunday. Last week and weekend there were parties, music everywhere, crowds, and celebration.
Music is played everywhere. It is the lifeblood that pumps through the veins of Latin America. Shops blast salsa, merengue, and cumba into the streets. Double decker party buses called las chivas stroll the streets while live bands perform on top and people dance and celebrate below. National ensembles play music in the park. Marching bands and drummers stroll the streets.

The weekend was full of festivities consisting of music, local Ecuadorian food, costumes, and a parade last night to cap it off. I spent the last 4 or 5 days exploring the city, enjoying the music and local food, and attending a few local fiestas and the parade last night. In addition, last Wednesday was the South American soccer final between Quito (Liga) and a Brazilian team (Fluminense). Unfortunately, it was in Brazil so I couldn´t go to the game, but I watched it in a bar with Quiteños. Liga won, prompting songs, celebration, and people pouring out into the streets.

Below are a few pictures from sites in the city. Festival pictures to come...

Homestay and Spanish Classes

2009-12-02T12:25:00.000-08:00

I have now been in Quito almost 4 days and am starting to learn my way around and slowly beginning to understand Spanish, or as the locals say... "poco a poco" (little by little). The hardest part is not being able to express my thoughts because I don't have the words I need.

The school is about a 20 to 30 minute walk from my house. It takes longer in the morning because I have to cross 3 busy streets and during traffic that is not an easy task. The primary reason is that Ecuadorian drivers don't always obey traffic signs and signals. Also, Quito is currently in a draught and their power is primarily hydro-electric. Therefore, to save water and energy, the city turns the power off in certain sections of the city at different times during the day. This means that when I walk to school some of the traffic lights are bound to be off, which increases the difficulty of crossing.

So far, most of the day is lived in Spanish, which I assume is the best way to learn the language. The family I am staying with only speaks Spanish, the school only teaches in Spanish, and to get around I need to use Spanish. It has been difficult, but is necessary to learn. I have been very focused on school and learning so far, and have yet to explore outside Quito, but plan to very soon. The city is very polluted and I can't wait to get into the fresh mountain air of the Andes. I will keep everyone posted.

Thanks for reading and hasta luego!

Arrival in Quito

2009-11-29T09:19:00.000-08:00

Hola from South America!!

I arrived on schedule in Quito last night and after some help from a very nice gentleman in the airport, a few phone calls to my spanish school coordinator, and waiting about 20 minutes, someone from the school came to pick me up. It was raining and the city was fast asleep.

I was dropped off with the family I will spend time with for the next 1 to 2 months. I couldn´t have asked for a more hospitable and generous familia. Last night I went straight to bed; but this morning I had a delicious breakfast of freshly sliced fruit, bread, jugo de pinapple, and tea con mi madre. I was able to practice spanish, and then mi padre drew me a detailed map of the route to my school tomorrow and walked into the city center with me. The rest of the day is for exploring...

So far, everyone has been very generous and the quiteños seem to be great people. I start school tomorrow and am excited to increase my spanish knowledge. I will post pictures in the future, because believe it or not I haven´t taken any yet.

Hasta Luego!

The Adventure Begins...

2009-11-27T21:07:00.003-08:00

The time has finally arrived... after years of saving, months of planning, and a week of running around like a mad man trying to get everything in order, pack up my apartment, and say goodbye to friends; I am leaving tomorrow for Quito, Ecuador. All my necessary possessions are condensed into a backpack and with an open mind and high hopes I am ready to embark on this grand adventure!