La Paz, Bolivia

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

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

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

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

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

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

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).