Wine, mountains, and trees OH MY!

Ok...There is just too much to update and these last few weeks have been so fun and truly beautiful. So I will try, in the next few days, to do a quick, but thorough update of our trip down the western side of Argentina through Mendoza the heart of Argentinian Wine country, and the Lake District-especially since we are about to head south to Patagonia! Time is flying! I wish i could send mental blog updates, so you could see how beautiful it is here! The clearest rivers I´ve ever seen, deciduous forests that climb up to frozen lakes, crisp fresh air and a million places to hike and camp!
We invested in a tent and sleeping bags and have, once again, changed our plans in order to soak in this beautiful scenery!
In the meantime--Here are some pictures!

Our cabin in the mountains outside of Mendoza

View from our cabana!

Bike tour of the Wine coutry!

Wine Tasting!

Brad drinking Mate

On our way to hike in Bariloche-Lake District

El Bolson Jazz Fest last night with a killer dance band!!

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Our new Home!

We´ve invested in some prime real estate---
Current location: El Bolson, Argentina-The Lake District
More pictures to come

Better LATE than Never!

Bolivia- The Salaria
It is the end of November and we find ourselves 13 hours out of La Paz, stuffed in the back of a landcruiser crossing one of the most stunningly beautiful deserts I´ve ever seen- Bolivia´s Salaria - a great blindingly white salt flat expanding hundreds of miles across one of the most desolate deserts in the world. This place is special, not only because of the spectacular scenery, but because it is also home to 3 types of endangered pink flamingos that live in the desert´s salty turquoise lakes.
Of course (per usual), I wasn´t sure what I was getting into when we stumbled off the bus in Uyuni at 4 in the morning from La Paz, knocked on the first hostal door we could find, and crashed out into our double beds still vibrating from a 13 hours bus trip from hell.
Uyuni is the gateway into the Salaria from the north and consists of a handful of hotels, restaurants, tour companies, and tourist gimmicks, plopped in the middle of the dusty brown flat land. it wouldn´t even exist without the stream of toursits that run through the town inot hte Salaria and down to Chile
There were a couple reasons why I wanted to get out of this place, not the least because our hotel had no water...I mean not a drop...So we quickly found a tour to take us on the 3 day trip through the Salaria. It wasn´t hard to choose. Every company is pretty much the same; The same route (3 days), the same car (Toyota Landcruiser), the same guides (¨chauffers¨)
The next morning we meet the rest of our group at the tour office at 9 where our driver, santiago, is waiting for us. There is an older German man travelling solo (a talker, there´s always one), and a Polish couple who had just gotten off the same horrible bus ride we´d done the day before. Once we were snug in hte Cruiser, we were off!...Along with about 50 other Cruisers, all elaving at the same time, on the same road.
One thing to remember is that Santiago is a ¨chauffer¨ which basically means a taxi driver from La Paz...and though he knew nothing about the salaria, the desert, cooking, safety or apparently earning tips, one thing he did know how to do was drive faster than all the other land cruisers going to the same place...So me Brad, the Poles Marek and Magda, and the German Klaus, bonded while hanging on for dear life as our driver plowed through dirt and gravel.
The Tour:
Around us drifts of brown dirt shift on the flat dusty terrain. On the horizon the brown melts into purple and then a line of pure white. That is the salt Flat, a seasonal salt lake that forms a thick crust of icy white during hte dry season. When we reach the flat there is nothing but miles and miles of blinding whiteness. nohting grows here. Our first stop is a little island that has managed to eke out an ecosystem above the salt. It is covered with fossilized coral and old giant cacti. next to the entrance is a 900 year old cactus! we hike around here, and santiago sets out a lunch for us, then chats with the other drivers while we run off and take funky pictures with the rest of the tourists. The Poles are on a whirlwind tour of South America and take about 300 pictures. We get into the hostal around 3p (thanks to Santiago who would start driving away when he felt like we´d had enough time at a certain place) and since we have nothing to do until dinner we buy about 10 beers and get wasted, laugh, eat, then pass out in our shared room. Brad and I sneak a walk into the desert and watch the full moon rise over us and shimmer across the salty desert floor.
In the morning we leave the salt flats for the lakes. These azure lakes are home to 3 endagered species of flamingos that feed off the red algae that thrives in the salt. It was really something to watch these birds, whose necks curve artfully over their tear drop bodies, flashing pink in the sun, and balancing on two little stick legs as the wind blows violently across the water.

We end up at our final destination of the day...a deep blue lake with currents of red algae, and clear streams flowing into it, creating a lush green frame in the desloate stretch of grey brown.

Here the wind is so violent it take us a half hour to walk to the lake and an hour to walk back against it. The flamingos are pushed comically across the water, tottering on their sticks. It is really a beautiful sight.

Our last day is spent seeing some of the amazing geological fomrationsa round the area...though Santiago has no clue exactly what they are....There are natural rock formations, geysers, and a volcano that is still active today.

This natural beauty isn´t even dimished by the fact that we get stale bread and nescafe for breakfast, or that Santiago failed to mention to us that there was a natural hot spring that we could swim in if we wanted. At the springs there are about 30 college kids splashing around in the hot pool...we look longingly at it but our suits are packed in the top of the Lancruiser and so we walk around a bit. In search of some warm coffee to lift our spirits we stumble into an albergue where other tour groups are being served....our mouths drop....cakes, coffee, yogurt, fruit!? Sometimes ignorance is easier to handle...we all go grudgingly back to the car, to Santiago and his stale bread....Such is life in the cheap tour department.

We end up at the Chilean border where B and I leave our new friends and head off to our next leg of our trip...Argentina!!

Friends and Foooooood!

It´s been a while since I´ve had a chance to update this old thing..which is a good thing!
Brad and I have been muy busy...so I´m waaay behind
Northern Argentina is hot and humid. After staying in Salta a few days, I met up with a friend, Sheeva, who has been studying photography in Tucuman,AR through the Sacramento Rotary Club. As soon as I got off the bus in this little city the heat and humidity hit, and I soon found out that 100 degree weather is nothing compared to the middle of the summer! Nonetheless, the heat felt good after the dry and cold of the mountains. Sheeva and her roomates welcomed us into their little student crash pad, shared their beds and food and beer and music. The pace of life is very different here. We would get up at 11, eat breakfast and lunch sort of, eat a snack at 5, then go to the store to buy dinner at around 10, eat at 11 or 12, go out at 12:30 and saty out until 3 or 4 (or 6 or 7)They taught me how to drink Mate (the traditional Argentinian tea) and her roomates who are musicians played a beautiful show at a little cafe one evening. Sheeva started a children´s photography program in Tucuman at the food kitchen and has given a group of kids the chance to take picures of their own lives, families, and homes. She is showcasing their pictures this wednesday! (So awesome!)

Anyway, hanging out with Sheeva and her friends was a great change of pace, and they went above and beyond for us...it was really a wonderful treat!
Cordoba

We would´ve loved to stay longer with Sheeva but had to keep on moving South. Our next stop was Cordoba, a university city in the middle of Argentina known for its horses and beautiful countryside. Brad and I stayed with friends of my aunt and uncle and found out, right before we left Tucuman, that Manu Chao was going to be playing in Cordoba while we were there. As soon as we arrived we picked up tickets and a few hours later headed to the packed stadium to dance like mad. The show was awesome, and we got a chance to explore the city a fair amount since we were staying on the outskirts. Right as we were about to head out of town, the people we were staying with told us their friend would be going to the country that day and wanted to take us out to explore the countryside and see one of the Jesuit Estancias built here-Before the Jesuits were kicked out of South America for being ´subversive´(i.e. a little too powerful)...they built huge farms and monasteries powered by the natives (the devout and the slaves). Once kicked out, the estancias were sold. Alejandra´s great great great grandfather bought this one outside of Cordoba. It now belongs to his ancesters...all 2000 of them. They are really beautiful.

But-First stop, one of Alejandra´s favorite restaurants, a little parilla (grill) in a little country town where they serve up some killer steaks..One the way out the car breaks down...The chef comes out in his apron to help Brad push our little Renault to the gas station

Second stop--Alejandra´s family home. Here father built it out in the middle of nowhwere and it´s become pretty delapidated so she took us out there while she met with some people who would fix it up for her. It was hard not to entertain fantasies of taking it over and building a huge garden on this beautiful property..., and then we headed to the estancia to look around the secret rooms and have a beer with some of her family. Truly a wonderful end to our trip in Cordoba.

Next stop--Wine Country!! Mendoza!

A Bus Story

I spend a lot of time on buses here in South America. Here's a bus story.
The bus tugged up the mountain road smooth as a steam boat. We'd just passed into Argentina with fresh stamps on our passports and I settle into my seat with a book, ready for the long haul.
Outside the Andes unfold on either side, the sun searing white, licking the shadows right off the hills. The horizon is miles away, the landscape immense and rolling, like God threw a bunch of giant cowboy hats on the ground and draped them with brown velvet...interesting art project...
I'm deep in this book (really good ones are a rare find) when our bus suddenly slows and then stops with an exhale..pshhhhhh...
i look up, the other tourists look up, we look at each other, a whisper rolls through the bus ¨what happened?¨¨why'd we stop?¨ Outside the bus is a dusty brown pueblo with a dirty river running around it. The din of confused tourists gets louder, and suddenly it's like the start of a scene you'd see in a musical...right before a song... ¨Trouble in River City?¨ It starts with an S and rhymes with HIKE!! STRIKE!!
Nooo...
The town has STRUCK! And they are lounging in the middle of the highway with rocks and umbrellas, drinking soda, and staring at the line of trucks and cars slowly forming on each side.
A blond woman in khakis with bony knees begins to walk through the lounging strikers awkwardly trying to figure out what the fuss is about, and pretty soon the road is full of curious tourists trying to figure out why the strike is going on...and more importanly..WHEN will it end??
In typical South American fashion, no one knows...maybe 5:30, maybe 6...the official is on his way...negotiations are taking place...he has to drive from Ukuiti...that´s 2, no 3 hours away!
So, realizing we still have at least 3 hours in the middle of nowhere, I take a hint from the strikers---fiesta! The even had a bbq going on. I practice my french with the french couple behind me, then spanish with an argentinian from switzerland, then I play an israeli game with a canadian, englishman and australian...After we'd exhausted our game...and I lost too many times...i go back into the bus where new news has come from the front...The police have come!! But police don't do anything, says the bus driver...And alas it's true. The police stand there, then they start to chat it up, then they just stare at everyone. After 3 hours the official comes. The bus can't move until something has been decided! So I daydream. I start thinking of funny comebacks I would say if I had a Texas accent.
¨Boy, I'll shove this can o lard up yer ass so far you'll be pooping pecan pies for christmas¨ har har har.... They all involve sticking things where the sun don't shine...and special holidays. Ah the bus! A place for expanding the mind...Finally the strikers decide that we can all go if we sign a petition supporting their cause..Sure...no problem! You can have my first born too..just get me outta here!
And then after 4 hours of exciting political unrest...We are free!! Free and on the road with just 5 hours left of our trip!
The homestretch doesn't look so appealing when the englishman falls ill and blows he roof right off the bathroom. But this is the way travelling should be! Filled with excitement and danger!
We get into the Salta bus terminal at 12:30 at night, and me and 5 others find a hostal and get wasted (well I get wasted) off one bottle of wine because I haven't eaten all day.
Good wine = good nights sleep...Argentina Here I Am!

La Selva!(The jungle)= Hail the heat! But Damn the bugs!!!!!

We actually didn't start this trip right away because Mr. Korpalski got the worst hangover of his life, partly due to the incredible altitude of La Paz, partly due to some free Bolivian rum...

But after a day of rest we were already on our way to Rurenabake, the gateway town to the Mididi Forest Reserve---The Bolivian Rainforest!!! The road to Rure is 18 hours, winding down the backside of La Paz, where on one side you find a barren cold desert, and on the other, a lush tropical rainforest...amazing.
As the bus rumbled down the canyon the air began to get hot and dense. People began to open windows and we passed lazy jungle towns nestled in the canyon. Finally! After weeks of mountain cold, we were going to get some real warm weather!

We arrived in Rure at 6 in the morning and found a great hostal with a lovely courtyard and hammocks to relax on. We stripped to our summer clothes, took a cat nap and then struck out to find some lunch.

It didn't escape my attention that the heat in town was sweltering by 11:30am--the kind of heat that sinks to your bones and makes you sweat from every pore. 5 minutes and all you want is something cold to drink...But there was no time to relax...the next morning we began our 6 day camping trip into the heart of the Mididi Reserve...home to thousands of plant and animal species, 3 rivers, small groups of indigenous farmers, and hot hot heat!
In hte Mididi, everyone must have a guide with them, and most companies have simple 'albuerges' set up by the river, for tourists to stay in. They usually consist of a scattering of reed huts, outdoor bathrooms (with no water in the dry season) and a kitchen. We took a wood motor boat on the shallow Rio Bene up to the Rio Tuitchi where our albuerge was. There we unloaded supplies and found our nice little dirt floor hut, equipped with beds and mosquito nets, hammocks in the trees, and a few other travellers lounging in the afternoon heat. We began hiking after lunch, and Renaldo, our guide, took us out on the little path behind hte albuergue and showed us some common trees and a few birds...and that's when my dreams for tropical tranquility ended......
Something about the heat, water and soil incubated one of the most amazing masses of useful plants I have ever seen in my entire life; rubber trees, seeds that make soap, a viagra tree, tree bark for your stomach, leaves that open up into chinese fans, chocolate, dyes, ropes, hair conditioner...no lie..everything is right there in front of you....
That being said...the same conditions that are perfect for growing the most amazing plants, are also perfect for breeding the most amazing amount of insects you've ever seen. They outnumber everything and the second you begin to sweat---which is every second--the flies are there to lick it up. Renaldo was born and raised in the jungle, only a mile away from where we were. He knows the forest like the back of his hand-how to bushwack through the vines to find random trails, where the fresh water is, what trees and plants were used for what... He could recognize an animal by the sound of it's movements. He not only didn't seem to mind the insects, but they didn't really seem to take notice of him either! They were gourmet bugs..they like the imported stuff....
Now, I'm not a great adventurer but I enjoy camping and hiking..but doing so in La Selva---that is another story! Screw the altitude..the jungle beats the highest mountain with the shear volume of heat and bugs raining down on you all the time!
By early morning we would already be breaking a sweat, and I could time my breakdowns to the hour...12pm....{BRAAAD!!! THEY ARE IN MY EARS! AHHHHHHH!! I'm walking back to the albuergue..NO MORE!!!} And he would give me a sticky hug and remind me that it was just a couple days and we'd be glad we did stuck it out...Mornings we'd wake up under our little mosquito nets, eat, and hike for several hours..be sweating within 10 minutes..then stop for lunch..tired...sticky..and then...the bugs would come! In the forest it was the mosquitos and bees (with no stinger)that swarm everything. The second you stop moving it begins--a buzzing in the ear, a fly in your eye, then pretty soon your backpacks are covered! On the beach it was the flies and biting sand flies that liked you for a snack. I learned fast that the only safe place to be was in the river where the water was cool, and the bugs couldn't get you!

On our 3rd night, we made camp in the middle of the forest near a running stream. In the hottest part of hte day the crickets begin to hum in the trees, and they sing so lludly you sometems have to cover your ears. We had just come back after watching the parrots fly home at sunset. It is beautiful to watch them flying, always in twos, the most brightly colored animals in the forest. After dinner I went down to the stream to try to wash off a little, when I saw two gleaming eyes on the ground in front of me...I knew before i shined the light on it what it was...a tarantuala hte size of my fist!!...sitting there motionless on some dried palm fronds in the path. I walked a wide circle around it, came to the shore and there on the rock next to my foot was another giant spider! I gave him a wide birth too...washed up as fast as possible and ran back as fast as i could in my flips flops. ahhh La Selva!

It was from the safety of the cool river water that i found myself really appreciating the jungle...the multi-colored parrots living in the clay walls of hte canyon, the wild pigs, the howler monkeys, the poisonous snakes, the aligators, the amazing trees...there is no place like this on earth. I really felt priviledged to have a guide so knowledgable about our surroundings. On our last day he took us to catch piranhas...we didn't catch anything, but the other guide caught 2! We put a peice of the thick raw bait meat up to its mouth and he bit it off clean through the middle in one bite! glad i didn't meet one of them in the river......
When our trip ended we were exhausted and bitten up, and decided to take a plane back to la paz since it is about $60 and only 1 hour! This may have been my favorite part of this trip. We got the last tickets and had to take motortaxis to the airport with our huge bags--i loove riding behin a motorcycle! It was a blast! Then we literally hopped on hte plane..and left...in a matter of 10 minutes. Now if only flights in the US could be so easy!!!
Next stop...The great Salt planes of the Bolivian highlands!!! (after some mango icecream in la paz)

Where in the World is Elaine San Hall?

Since being on Lake Titticaca, I haven't had much of a chance to write, so I will provide a brief breakdown of my ''Haps'' here in South America

1. Isla Del Sol= The Birthplace of Incan civilization.
We hiked out of Copacbana around the lake for a ocuple hours along the dirt road, through farms and past fisheries and isla flotantes (floating islands) and bumped into an Australian talking to a charismatic Quechuan man who wanted to take us in his boat to the island. He knew we were coming along becasue his wife had seen us walking in from town. We road to the tip of the Isla del Sol where he dropped us off and we hiked hte next 5 hours through tiny villages and farms with the austrailain and a canadian girl with blond dreadlocks. It was getting late by the time we reached the end of hte isalnd and we still had an hour more to walk when to 10 year olds ran out and told us htey would row us ot the end of the island for 30 bolivianos. 'Who will row'' we asked, and hte bi gger one pointed to the smaller one and said 'Him!'...we couldn{t resist and soon we were in a boat with two 4 foot tall kids rowing 3 grown gringos across the little bay. When they got tired Brad and the AUstralian offered to row andchanged places with teh boys...but after 5 minutes U could tell the guys were sturggling. The boat was an old heavy wooden row boat with thin oars and i was laughing to myself that these bug guys were working ahrder than the 2 kidsm when suddenly Brad gave a hearty pull on the oar, and pulled hte whole seat off with him! we all stopped in shock and the kid{s mouth next to me dropped into a silent 'puuutttaaaaaaa'

But we made it to shore intact, seat fixed, and money in hte kids pockets-they earned it.

Lake Titticaca was one of hte places Che Guevara visited in his travels htrough South America tyhat he painted as iuncredibly backward and isolated...it is still very isolated.even with the constant stream of trouists. The villages are very basic, the resturants are very basic, the people are very simpe, pigs hang out on the beach instead of people.

As for accomodations, I don't know if you have evr stayed in a hostal in SOuth America for a dolalr a night...if you have, you probably haven't since. It was basic. I don't need to explain that we shared atoilet with the family ad we'll jsut say-they definitely were into water conservation..., there was no running water but a little spicket outside in hte courtyard, and the bedding was probably washed right where everything else is--in the lake, next to where hte toilet flushes. But a bed is a bed, good company is good company, and beautiful views of a giant moutnain lake are always beautiful.

2. La Paz = City of Peace, Bolvia's Capital, Voted best place to eat ice cream, by me

We bussed it into La Paz after Lake Titticaca, took a treacherous ferry across a narrow part of the lake, and arrived in La Paz that afternoon. La Paz is shaped like a giant bowl, and the red houses tumble down the valley to the main street- El Prado. We stayed on a quiet plaza up from the Prado, and would walk down to the bustling mainstreet in the day to eat, check e-mails and check out tours and places to go. The Prado is full of dessert places. In fact every day, around 5 pm, masses of families stroll the Prado with ice cream in hand. I hate ice cream so I didn't do that... ,) We also went to a futbol game!!!! Neither of us know anything about futbol, but it was hte championship game for Bolivian soccer and we found great seat! We walked over there in teh evening, loaded up on stadium food (they only have sandwiches--sausage, chicken, hamburger--sodas and candy)

We also searched for inexpensive tour companies who could take us biking on the infamous 'DEATH ROAD'. Truly, that is the name of this one lane dirt jungle road that leads down into the canyon on the other side of the montains from La Paz. One side of the road is sheer cliff going up, and the other side is sheer cliff going down, which leads me into my next blurb....

3. Death Road = Bike riding 5 hours down hill on the most dangerous road in the world (so they say)

I normally don't do much (or any) mountain biking, but I enjoy a good bike ride..People had been telling us to ride the Death Road since we got to Peru. It has become a famous tourist destination and outfitters set you up with a guide, serious biking gear, and promises of buffet lunches at the end of the day. Brad and I found a decent company and met up at 6:30am the next morning with our tour group and a friend we'd met in Copacabana to take on the Road of Death. There isn´t too much to report here...no one died....booring..no just kidding...But really no one died...even so, it was fun riding downhill on this winding gravel road through waterfalls and precariously placed rocks. You don¨t even notice the sheer drop to your left until the end of the trip when you take off all your gear and actually look at the jaw dropping views of emerald forest belwo you...phew...glad I lived though that. The end of the trip we just drank beer and swam in a pool to kill time before driving back to La Paz. Very fun! Back in La Paz we were ready to start our next foray into La Selva!

photos

This hasn´t been updated in a long itme but you can check out some of my pictures (mostly from the beginning of the trip) here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/lainylainy/

Everyone!

Now you can post comments without all the extra trouble--fixed:)

Trucha

We are now officially in Bolivia!
After arranging our Bolivian visas we took a mini bus to the Peru/Bolivia border and stepped across the border into a new country and a new leg of our journey! We are staying in Copacabana in a nice little hotel overlooking Lake Titticaca---The Andes´ own Lake Tahoe! (though...bigger, and much higher....)
After settling in, B and I took a walk along the lake as the sun began to go down, and found a line of kiosks selling fresh fried trout (trucha) to tourists for around 4 bucks a meal.
Not sure which of the 22 kiosks to choose, we were drawn to a hault when one little fat Bolivian woman with grey hair, missing teeth, and the traditional Bolivian bowler hat perched on her head hobbled out and began yelling ¨TRUCHA TRUCHA TRUCHA TRUCHA¨ The other vendors seemed to know they couldn´t beat this bat, and backed off, and the message was clear...this woman sells trout. Another couple having a beer at her kiosk welcomed us in.
The grandma explained that they have trout anyway you want it...and I sat, looking at the menu thinking I was a trouted out after the last few weeks, maybe some chicken might be nice. She said...how do you like it? plain, fried? I said plain chicken is fine, and she said--ok 2 truchas!
So I said...ok...trucha it is!
She was deaf and could barely see, but she showed us the fresh trout, fished right out of the lake that morning, and then fried it up into a mean dinner, with rice, fries and salad. About 80 years of cooking experience had ensured us an amazing meal.
The couple next to us asked her ¨Mama? When is your birthday?¨and She said--November! Get me a present! ¨Mama, where were you born?¨On this lake!¨And then she proceeded to stuff her mouth with a fist size wad of coca leaves. A European couple walked by and she came running out yelling ¨Trucha trucha tenemos trucha!¨ But her mouth was so stuffed, it came ¨TRFUFA TRFUFA! TESHAEMTH TRFUFA!¨ Then she sat there with everyone, looking out on the lake as the sun painted the sky orange, occasionally yelliing to the dogs that came in ¨fwewa fwera!¨ and chewing her coca leaves.
It was probably the best meal I´ve had in a long time...the trout was amazing..the chef was one in a million.

The Bus

Sometimes it takes a while to really get into the travelling mode. You get overwhelmed by all the places you are visiting and forget that real travelling is not just going from place to place, but also the ride there, the beaurocracy you deal with on the way, the funny people you meet, the ice cream you eat....I swear, ice cream can really make a trip worthwhile...
Sometime around 7pm the other night...2 hours away from our destination, Puno, I suddenly felt like I was travelling! Watching people congregate in the dark to sell snacks, chicha and local food on the streets, I suddenly felt how small a person can be- me, sitting in this dirty old bus with 20 other people, whipping through dark little desert towns where real people live, about to go on to another town, and now, another country...
The world is filled with so much, it´s easy to miss the best parts if you´re not looking!

The Real Machi Picchu

There are a few places in South America that Brad and I have planned on going to no matter what 1) Amazon 2) Pantanal and 3) Machu Picchu...and though it took a while to finally get there, Brad and I left Cusco on Sunday to start our trip to The Machu Picchu.

After hanging out in Cusco for 2 weeks, where every restaurant caters to tourists and every store advertises trips to Machu Picchu, I began to get it in my head that Machu Picchu is one big tourist trap--everyone goes--everyone pays a lot--and everyone gets to talk about it a week later when they get home to their family and friends. In fact, it was beginning to not even sound appealing to follow the masses to see it. Once we finally began the trip, I realized that it can be very easy to get to Machu Picchu, if you want to pay alot, but, as usual, Brad and I took the cheap route, and 6 hours and 3 mini buses over winding gravel roads later, we were following the train tracks on foot up to Aguas Calientes.

On this side of the Andes the air is warm and heavy with humidity. Everything is green and htere are waterfalls, parrots and orchids in our path. It is a really enjoyable 2 hours walk...

And then IT happened...

When I think back over what could have caused it, it could be any number of things...the bologne sandwich for lunch, the empanadas the day before, bad water...who knows...but after walking for an hour Brad could hardly stand up...some women at a little stop by the road gave him some local herbs for the stomach, and he stumbled through the rest of the hike feeling miserable and out of it.

Aguas Calientes:

This town was built to serve the thouasand of tourists arriving every week to visit Machu Picchu. It is picturesque, tucked away in the green canyon next to a beautiful river. The town itself is just hotels and resturants of every kind. There are rich tourists and poor alike...everyone comes for the same reason...Machu Picchu.

I left Brad to wallow in misery at the entrance to Aguas Calientes, and went in search of a hostal, where he stayed for a day and a half straight!

So, that´s how it goes when you are travelling, plans change. We were origanlly going to walk from Aguas Calientes at 3:30am to watch the sun rise on Machu Pichu and beat the toursit busses, but since we also had to walk the train tracks back to the road, it would have been too much. So we found ourselves at the bus stop at 4am..in a line of 75 people waiting in the dark tropical rain for the 5:30am bus.

Going to Machu Picchu:

The buses come one after the other, they are big and comfy, and once they are full they pull out of Aguas Calientes and begin winding up the mountain to Machu Picchu. I saw a few people hiking the road...and honestly..I didn´t envy them at all. This was awesome--sit in a bus for 20 minutes and voila!--The Machu Picchu--the same one that people hike between 1 and 3 weeks to see--the same one that people get up at 3:30am to hike up to to beat the crowds. And when we arrived, I realized how lucky we were to have hiked Ausangate instead of this. To spend 5 days with no shower, and crappy food, only to arrive at Machu Picchu with a crowd of clean tourists and a boutique hotel at the entrance...would have been sort of a let down if you ask me..

Since we got one of the first busses, there were not as many people as i expected on the mountain, and i was able to climb a little path up to the top to get an amazing (and quiet) view of the ruins with the fog sifting in and out of the canyon. All that said...I´m pretty sure Brad and I saw some guys building new ruins up the hill...Is Machu Picchu really a plot by hte Peruvian governemnt to get tourists to come?? The homes were so neatly constructed, the terraces still perfectly intact, water still runs though the town from a mountain spring. The mountains are shrouded in green and the mist moves in and around them like ocean waves.div>

One thing that was blaringly absent was any kind of museum or cultural reference. Once M.P. was discovered in 1911, the artifacts were carted out, and sold or kept behind glass. Archeologists really don´t know what the town was for, who lived there, or why....This is sadly the fate of many of the Incan ruins found in recent history. Pots and other artifacts are sold, or tunred over to archeaologists and sold by them. Rarely is the money or history given back to the descedents of the Incas.But the goverment did a pretty good job of reconstructing an ancient Incan city hidden on top of a giant mountain...and despite the throngs of tourists, it was worth the trip.

The ride home was similar to the ride back, though B was feeling better, and no one sitting next to me was barfing (did i mention that before? it was a rough road...tmi)

It was hard to leave Cusco once we got back. Our hostal was run by the cutest older woman (even cuter after she said I looked like a movie star-or Mary--how I miss you)

Next stop Puno--Lago Titticaca--Copacabana-BOLIVIA!!!

Ausangate

When B and I arrived in Cusco we were planning on taking a week out to hike the Salkantay trail up to Machu Picchu. At the SAE Club, someone told us to wait a few days and their guide would come in and try to set up a trip with us. He came with some amazing recommendations, so we stuck around town for a few more days so we could talk to him. It so happened that when we got to the SAE club that Thursday, another couple was waiting for him as well. They had beend oing some research and had it in their minds to go to Ausengate, one of the Inca´s most sacred mountains, over 17,000 ft. high,in the Andes. I´d never heard of it, but it sounded like an amazing trek and Brad and I were on board.
We took a bus with our guide, Miguel, 5 hours to the town of Tinke, where we met the horsema, Alberto, and cook, Domingo (luxery camping:). They remained with us the next 5 days, strapping our supplies to the pack horses every day, setting up the kitchen tent for our meals, and making sure we had everything we needed.
¨Warm clothes! You need warm clothes!¨Miguel kept telling us before we left, but that first day, hiking the easiest part of our trek up the green rolling hills, we were in t-shirts and I had to roll up my pants to stay cool. Though the trail that first day wouldn´t be considered particularly hard, every step uphill left us winded from the altitude.

The trail went like this: We follow a trail that winds around the majestic Ausangate, through the remote little alpaca ranches run by Quechuan families. We have 4 passes to hike up, each one leading us into a new mountain terrain.

We stop for lunch, and Domingo has set up shot next to an old mudbrick house and it cooking up astorm, Alberto has set up a table and chairs for us and it helping Alberto, cahtting in Quechua and listening to the local radio station (the both keep little radios around their necks the whole trip-as do all the locals, listening to the local music and Cusco news)
After lunch the weather turns from blue skies to grey and it begins to hail, then snow! We are prepared for the cold and wet and bundle into our snow pants and jackets, hiking silently through the snow.
Everyday the weather is the same. We get up in the morning, hike under blue skies and fantastic views, and then after lunch, bundle up as it begins to snow. The horses don´t seem to mind though they wander off and Alberto has to go running after them through the snow in his rubber sandals (he wore them in rain, snow and hail, never took them off, and NEVER got cold!)
Miguel knew a lot of the history around the Ausengate, and was full of stories and information. The mountain itself is the most sacred mountain of 3, to the Incas. It was said to carry a lot of power, and it is truly a beautiful sight ot behold, jagged black peaks blanketed with snow and ice that carves deep pools and rivers into the grasslands. The alpacas roam here, the llamas prefer to stay higher up on the mountains, and we see little viscachas (andean rabbits) and once we even see a herd of vucunas (deer related to alpacas) eating grass above us on the hill.
Every pass we make is a triumph as the altitude makes breathing so hard. I´m out of shape and find myself huffing and weazing up hte mountains, only to forget about the pain as a view of hte next emerald valley splashed with aquamarine lakes opens before me. The nights are icy, but Miguel knows this area well and provides us with some awesome equipment...including, probably the best of them all...the ¨Sh@#! ter Tent¨as we called it - a little tent covering a hole in the ground to go to the bathroom...which saved us having to bare it all in the snow!
We´re lucky to have been paired up with Mike and Marisa-the other couple- because they don´t complain, tough out the hard parts, and relish the beautiful scenery as much as we do! They are also pretty hilarious, and in our diliriousness from the hiking and altitude we crack up a lot.
It was pretty spectacular...Peru has surprised me in so many ways. There is so much diversity in it´s land and people, from the driest deserts, to the highest montains, to rainforest, and canyons...Next stop...Machu Picchu!!

The Symptoms

Tomorrow (Sunday) we´re leaving for a 5 day trek to one of the most spectacular trails in the world, the Ausangate. The trail is 16,000 ft from sea level, and in order to prevent altitude sickness i.e. lethargy, difficulty breathing, coma?!?! everyone in our group is taking alitude pills. No one wants to be the one dragged down the mountain on a donkey because they got sick so we gladly obliged, but this stuff makes the tips of your fingers tingle down to the tips of yours toes, and I feel like I´ve been in a dream all day, which might explain why my spanish has been so confused. I kept mixing up chicharones (peruvian pork dish) with chicha (peruvian corn alchohol) and asking weird quetions that didn´t make sense. This morning our trekking guide, Miguel, took us to Cuzco´s black market bazaar; a jumble of stalls and stores 3 blocks wide filled with just about any imaginable thing to buy, from textiles, to knock-offs to nails. There are a lot of thefts and he told us if anyone messes with us to say . ¨Hey! Que chucha tienes!¨(which mean-crudely-¨what´s your problem¨-) The pills were messing with Brad too, because he thought the phrase was ¨Quechua tienes!¨ (¨You have Quechua!¨Quechuans are the Andean natives). Sometimes at the black market the police will close off the streets and let in a team of archaeologists to inspect the merchants wares, often finding priceless Incan artifacts being sold alongside stacks of tablecloths. On hearing this, our friend Mike said ¨There are some great buys here!¨ WHich is true! We stocked up on fleeces, jackets and north ¨fake¨ backpacks without spending more than 30 dollars. The temps on the mountain get icy cold as soon as the sun goes down, and since it´s been raining here in Cuzco, it is surely Snowing! up there! Wish me luck!

Travelling

Once you leave the main Plaza of Cusco this town is crazy bustling..For some reason every few weeks people crowd into the banks in Peru..not sure why yet, but I like to imagine, as I´m walking alone through the throngs of people waiting excitedly to get in, that they are coming together to celebrate something amazing like...the legalization of gay marriage in Peru..it makes walking around way more interesting when the vendors yelling at you from across the street in Spanish are saying ¨Go gays! Viva la gay marriage!!¨ instead of-¨BUY my useless stuff! NOW¨

Cuzco

16 hours on a bus
no hot water at our hotel
but this town is pretty cool
and breakfast was awesome!
Hot chocolate, eggs, fresh oj and toast...yum
it´s the little things i guess

Sangalle, Fure, LLahuar, and BACK

The Colca Canyon once held a place of strategic importance to the Spanish Conquistadors when they arrived in Peru, but the region was forgotten and left to itself. When is was ´rediscovered´ it had remained so isolated that the clothing styles and ways of life hadn´t changed. The women continue to wear the long skirts and embroidered hats introduced by hte Spanish hundreds of years ago.
It took 3 hours to reach the town of Sangalle at the base of the Colca Canyon It is just a peice of land that juts out at the into the Cocla river and criss crossed with fresh springs bubbling from earth. Down here are several camps, none with electricity or hot water. The thatched roof and bamboo huts were built for the tourists, and consist of a flimsy door, dirt floors, and a bed. Because of hte logistics for getting supplies down there, the main meal at every camp is spaghetti. The town in uninhabitable in the summer wet season when it starts to rain and the boulders come loose and fall like pebbles down the canyonside.
Sangalle was hte fist town as we hiked a triangle up and around the Cocla. The next stop, Fure, was deeper into the Colca, in an offshoot called the Huarare. As we headed out of Sangalle at 6am, to cross the Colca River we found an unexpected guide, the little dog from El Paraiso who began to follow us as we trudged up the mountain trail. We stopped at the top to look at the spectacular view of the Canyon and figure out the trail, and ´Perrito´ never left our side for the remainder of the trip.
At a shortcut we ended up lost in one of the terraced fields and found fruit trees, herbs, vegetables, and cacti all flourishing there. Back on hte main trail, the canyon opened up into quiet towns of little mud brick houses, terraced fields, and tiny trails leading to them.
At the top of one mountain the trail began to lead us into the Hurare River canyon. The water here is fresh and clear, and filled with trout, fed by huge waterfall from the snow melt on top of the Andes. After hiking 5 hours uphill I was getting exhausted, and Perrito was too! Finally I couldn´t take it anymore..we´d been hiking for hours, I was tired, the road never ended, who knew where Fure was...Perrito kept lying down..we all dropped down in the shade, when an old Quechuan man and a woman dressed in the traditional layered skirts and holding her belongings in a colored wrap across her back, passed us and stopped...´Fure?´we said weakly...´Oh si...It´s about 10 minutes from here...How long have you been hiking?´ ´5 hours!´we claimed almost proudly...The woman smirked and hte man just looked at us in pity...It had taken them 3 hours...They were probably in their 50´s...
No matter, we turned hte corner, and there was Fure, sitting quietly in the shade of the mountain 600 meters above the Huarare river. The town has just one tiny dirt path running through, big enough for horses to pass. There are 18 families, 1 schoolhouse, no electricity, sewage or trash. At night the women light fire in brick ovens for dinner and the smell of sour herbs and smoke drifts through the cool air. Our room was in one of the typical mud huts. It had dirt floors, and a mattress lifted onto four wood stumps. Though dark, it was incredibly cozy and warm inside. For dinner we walked next door to the owners kitchen which opened into a small garden with herbs and flowers and Corinna made us typical regional fare for lunch, potatoes with pumpkin puree and rice,and I would throw down bits of food for Perrito under the table. The next day We hiked out to the end of hte canyon to see the waterfall and got ready for another 6 hours of hiking with Perrito loyally running at our heels.
Our final stop, Llahuar is at the base of the 3rd trail back up to Cabanconde, and owned by an older couple Claudio and Yola who have bulit one of hte nicest little camps we went to. There were flowers everywhere, hots springs at the base, Claudio went out to the Huarare and fished for trout for dinner every night. Yola, was an amazing cook and fried up the fish for dinner...it was heaven. We met a group of people who were just starting their journey and shared stories with them and htey madefriendswithPerrito who refused to stay outside of the dinner room. (´Perrito, OUT!,, ROOF ROOF, ´Perrritttoo!! not the cats!¨
The next day we woke up to Perrito barking at 5:30 as usual, but when we got up he had left with the other group of people! We were kind of relieved since we didn´t really know how he would get back home ot Sangalle....
Of course with every hike down, thereisa hike up...andourfinal hike was not just up..it was UP! I´ll put it in one word...HELL!
6 hours of rocks, sand, hot sun...and endless swtichbacks up up and up without a break.
We made it to Cabanconde dirty, hungry,and completely exhausted. Took showers andsatdownfora beer, whenwe suddenly heard music comingform the back of the hotel restaurant. I ran out to see a festival of women dressed in traditional dresses,all with bags of flowers and herbs dancing in circles to a brass band. A woman in an alpaca facemask cameto Brad andpulled him out, took a liking to his dancingskills and wouldn´t let him go! Ileft for 5 minutesto the bathroomand he disappeared. 10minutes later he comes back,his hair sticking out anda look ofshock onhisface. Í just shot gunned a glass of chicha!´ (The traditional corn spirit of Peru) He´d walked outsideto watch the dancing and a bunch of drunk farmers passed a glass of chica rightinto his hands and told him to chug it! We´d walked into the Baila de Machu--a festival to celebrate the planting of hte corn. The band played hte samemusic over and over again as thewomen danced around the town square and the men drankchcia until they could barelywalk anymore.
A great ending to an amazing experience

Hiking Colca Canyon

I have a few minutes beforeour bus leavesfor Cusco, so here´s recap of last week´s amazing backpacking trip!

From Arequipa we took a 6 hour bus ride to the remote mountain town of Cabanaconde. Cabanaconde sits at the rim of hte Colca Canyon, the 2nd deepest canyon in the world and home to 9 or 10 remote Quechuan farming communities, connected to each other only by the narrow foot paths eatched across the rocky mountainsides. As our bus snaked up the dusty roads I could see in the distance, the crumbling rock had been leveraged into thousands of flat green terraced fields. In a place of extremes,losing just the topmost layer of soil can render a terrace completely unproductive, and these people have been practicing true sustainable farming techniques and maintaining crops in the most unbelievable conditions for not just hundreds , but thousands of years...pretty amazing
Most of the jobs in Cabanconde come from farming and tourism. It sits at the edge of the 3 main trails that lead to into the Colca. These people think nothing of climbing from the base of the canyon up 2000 meters to Cabanoconde every day to buy supplies, sell supplies, or lead tourists down. Distances here are all measured in time, and there is tourist time (let´s say, 5 hours to get to a particular town) and local time (2 hours to get to the same place!)
The next day we decided to check out hte trails leading around Cabanaconde, through the dirt roads, past the mud brick and thatched roof homes, the dry yards, donkeys, and horses, the bull fighting ring (a popular past time here) made of stacked rocks forming a wall and corrugated aluminum doors which are meant to hold the bulls (somehow),past dry grazing pastures to a vista where you can struly see hte vastnessof the Colca. Peering down...and down and down! we could see the first stop on what had suddenly turned into a serious backpacking trip!--The Oasis, also known as we could see the town of Sangalle, almost directly below Cabanaconde. It makes you dizzy to look so far down at this tiny green patch of trees and palms sitting in the shadowy brown and greys of the canyon.
We were so excited to see the canyon unfold before us, waterfalls and tiny terraced fields in the distance, sitting like jewels in the cascades of dry rock. 3 hours later we had locked up the luggage we didn´t need and were hiking down the first trail to Sangalle, the Oasis. The sun blazed against our heads as we treked down the zigzagging switchbacks, lined with boulders and flowering cacti. A few red faced tourists were puffing up the trail. It looked pretty painful with both the altitude and the mountain working against them. A few more had taken donkeys up and smiled at us sheepishly.
To be continued...with pictures!

Me llama Elianita. Y tu?

We moved out of our swanky tourist hostel in Arequipa for a less expensive hostal down the road, swapping our quiet 4th floor room and balcony overlooking the city with breakfast in the morning, for an equally great view, and a room that matches it´s rate (i.e. small). With a few extra bucks in our pockets we were able to grab a nice dinner on Saturday night, and head over to the sprawling sports club ´Club Internacional´ on Sunday for a day by the pool in the warm mountain sun.
Arequipa is sunny most of the year, and the wind blows down the mountains around noon clearing the air of deisel and pollution, making the mornings fresh and crisp. We were the only gringos at the club, which boasts several enormous soccer fields, a pool area, food stands, basketball courts, racquet balls courts..it´s fancy! We just sat by the pool, watching the families try to stay out of the glaring mountain sun, Peruvian kids playing the same pool games American ones do, listening to cheers erupting from the soccer field, men drinking beer after a tennis game.
Staying smack in the center of the ´area touristica´ of Arequipa, it´s is hard to get a real read on the poverty level of the city. It thrives off the tourists that pass through here on trekking tours and the majority of street kids and poor are driven off by the policia touristica (yes, really). The sports club is yet another retreat for those with expendable income.
When we got home we decided to sign up for a Spanish class that we´ve been dying to do. For not too much money you get one-on-one lessons with a native spanish instructor 4 hours a day for a week. We had just committed ourselves to one more week in the city, but, hey, it´s worth it to learn Spanish! We need some practice. I decided that we needed a room with a bathroom if we were going to stay for another week, so I put in a request with the front desk man, who had nothing available that day.
Then it came. Read no further if you don´t want to hear the gory details of travelling and eating in South America.
2 days after a particularly inexpensive lunch (Here you can get a menu Criollo which includes a starter, second course, and drinks - usually chicha, a sweet watery drink made from maiz- for between $1 and $4) We tried a $1 Menu Criollo, and exactly 2 days later i was running down the hallway stairs for the toilet at 3 in the morning.
No worries, just travellers diarhea, but having to run outside to the bathrom at night isn´t ideal. Our hostel guy told us the next day that he had a room for us with a bathroom, but with our first day of class starting at 3, we wouldn´t be back until 7:30pm. ´No worries´he tells us. We come back at 7:30, and the Pèruvian woman who works there, a small black haired woman with silver front teeth was manning reception. ´We are changing rooms tonght. Do you have the key?¨we ask. ´No theres nothing, you waited too long we had to rent it out,¨was her response.
I have diarhea, I´ve ben learning Spanish for 4 hours, and damnit I want a room with a bathroom. She´s been cleaning rooms all day, and is manning the front desk alone, and damnit...not only is our room taken, but she doesn´t really give a sh*.
I´m mad, and tired, so I sit in bed reading and vowing ot find another hostal the next day while B gets dinner. In the morng we both wake up late, B was hit by the travellers bug, and he´s just as interested in having our own bathroom as me. I walk downstairs right past the hostel guy who promised us a room, he stops me and asks what happened with the room...´´It was taken!´ No worries, he has a room up top with a bathroom , and he´ll give it to us for the same price as the other room. Now he´s talking.
So today is a new day. We had a great breakfast, got an awesome room, and in a few hours I´ll be heading off to Spanish lessons with Betty and Juliana.
Not too shabby a life down here.

Arequipa - Mountain Country

We´ve been travelling for about 1 week now...which is pretty shocking to me when I think about how much we´ve seen and done so far. When you backpack in a foreign country, figuring out where to eat, sleep and hang out are pretty much your full time job. It feels good to know it´s only been a week, and that I´m still months away from the ´real world´

We will be in Arequipa for a week.

After Punta Hermosa, we came back to Lima for a night, then left the next day for Arequipa, a desert city in the mountains, on the road to Cuzco. The bus trip was about 18 hours overnight, so we just slept most of the time (and saved money on a hotel). When you leave the coast and begin travelling east into the mountains the terrain is desolate, sand and orange rocks, like the surface of the moon. A few rivers run down through small canyons and there plants and animals spring to life. Whole communities live right next to the river, surrounded by nothing but the desert.

Arequipa is a busy city that lies at the base of 3 mountains, the Picchu Picchu, the Misti, and the Chura-something....all dusted with snow at the tops. The air is dry and crisp, and even though we are 7500 feet up in the middle of winter.. it´s hot!
The town itself is made up of old colonial buildings, with high walls and courtyards. A lot of tourists come through here to see the natural wonders that fill this region.

Most of the inhabitants are of Incan descent and there are a lot of Incan crafts and alpaca woven items for tourists to buy. One of the museums here holds the mummified body of an ancient Incan girl who died in the snow.

Typical food of the region includes roasted guinea pig, and alpaca chops!

B and I are really excited to get out of the city, because just beyond Arequipa is one of the deepest canyons in the world, hot springs, a canyon that is home to condors that spread 7 feet across, and rivers and valleys for hiking and biking, but we´ve decided to take a few days in Arequipa to take Spanish classes and relax before we start the journey.

To be continued....

The Beach

Brad has been wanting to surf Peruvian lefts for months now, and the other night he found a surf hostel--the call them surf camps- in a little beach town 45 minutes south of Lima called Punta Hermosa. We took two combes (little Peruvian street buses) out of Lima and onto the Pan American Highway that cuts down the south coast of Peru through the sand and desert. These buses are small, but we managed to squeeze into one, backpacks and all while it weaved in and out of traffic. Every stop the door opererator slams open the bus door yelling the names of his stops and rounding up customers before jumping back in just as the bus peels out. The towns that line hte highway are bussling and active. There are settlements everywhere, a testament to the crazy growth this area has seen in the last decade or two. There are towns perched precariously at the top of sand dunes, and others perched precariously at the bottom...The houses are simple brick sqaures with windows, and in every commercial area there is a building supplies store, where you can buy the walls of your house already built.
We soon begin to leave the bussle with the bus driver joking that we´ve already passed Punta Hermosa and so we´ll have to go to the other Punta Hermosa. We´re dropped off in the middle of a dusty town where we grab a moto taxi telling him to just take us to Caballero beach. We have a a vague idea the hsotel is near there but want to look around just in case. He drops us in the middle of a dead town and the only hostel in sight is closed. I start ¨expressing¨ to Brad that he should listen to me when i say I want to stop to figure out where we´re going before we pay to go there. We´re walking aorund aimlessly when we see 2 women walking. One turns out to be Brazilian, with a house next door to the hostel and she walks us there, winding through little beach homes and dirt roads telling us about her family. She leaves us at the entrance telling us that she lives riiight around the corner.
I´ll skip the hostel part...Surfers everywhere are pretty much the same, so when i say I was at a surf camp, you can imagine there was reggae, guys in beanies, weed, and not a single girl except for the cook. Brad got some surfing in, I enjoyed an awesome sunset, and we met an American and Brazilian who were both super nice and willing to go out with b to catch some waves.
To my friends reading this who were with me in Brazil, I´ll say, the other guys at the hostel were very ¨jui-jitsu-y¨
We´re back in Lima today, not sure if we want to continue down the coast or head right into the mountains.

To be continued.....

Gringita mistakes

We went to the store to get some sandwich supplies in an effort to save some cash. In Peru, they sell a looot of jamon (ham) and they also sell other sandwich meats and just call them jamon too. We ordered turkey , leaning over across the deli meats ¨pavooo por favor¨and he picks up ´jamon de pavo´ ¨no no, no jamon!¨we point to the big turkey in the glass in front of us...¨un kilo?¨ we look at each other neither of us really sure how much a kilo is, but it seems okay. So he starts slicing, and slicing, and soon there´s a looot of turkey so we yell over for him to stop. A half a kilo and we´ve got enough lunch meat to last a week. We grab the rest of our items, bread, fruit, lettuce then go to the check out. bread- 10 cents, fruit 2 bucks, lettuce, 50 cents, turkey-11 bucks...!?!!!!!!!!! wait..too late, we´re checked out and paying up before we can even figure out how to say stop!
gringita lesson learned.

¿Como se dise? ¡Yo soy en Lima!..

Last night I fell asleep in about 30 seconds...
We'd just eaten at an amazing restaurant recommended by our hostel gal, home to the most famed chef in Lima....and niether of us have any clue what we were eating. I'll call mine, chicken kebob a la amazing sauce, and I'll call brad's Chicken and potatos a la gravy. Our waiter was more than patient

with our horrible Spanish, and even took us over to the kitchen to show us what his favorite platos ''para piqar'' were.
Of course, we were exhausted...The kind of exhausted you can only be after you've been on a red-eye for 10 hours, in the emergency exit row where the floor space is wide...and the seats don't go down! ..who knew....Then finally got off after a total of 4 hours of interrupted sleep, bargained for a cab, and then held onto your boyfriend for dear life as our driver navigated the masses of trucks and cars all trying to get wherever they were going as fast as humanly possible.

But we made it..Hostel Malka, a non-descript home in on of the lesser known nieghborhoods, with a lovely yard in the back, a climbing wall, and a bunch of drunk 20 year olds yacking in the bathroom. ...oh hostels..the possiblities!...
Many have recommended we not stay in Lima too long, and I think we agree, although I feel like it could be a reallly fun place if you knew someone...so I may come back one day. Today we will start planning our next mo

nth in Peru...Some surfing, beaches, then Cuzco and Machu Picchu...
Pictures will come...as soon as I take some...

A Gaggle of Michiganders

I finally flew out to Michigan for 5 days to visit Brad and his family in Detroit last week.
For your viewing pleasure, here are a few pictures of the trip.

B and I drove on 8 Mile into downtown Detroit. The city streets radiate out from the river like bicycle spokes, and there is a monorail that circles around the downtown area. No one actually lives here, and no one actually uses the monorail, but it is a pretty cool downtown.

and Canada across the river! Sadly, no
moose in sight....:(

We went to a Tigers game downtown and i met up with Andra! and missed the game because we were talking..oops...

Ok, I know there aren't a lot of pictures.... I always forget to take them! Below, we left Detroit to go to Ann Arbor to visit B's sis and her bf...and we all went kayaking on some river. It was such a gorgeous day! These are our Patagonia shots

We went out on the town after this, and I ended up being incredibly hung over the next day...you know, the day I had the privilege of meeting B's entire extended family...

I have NO pictures of Brad's fam, nor proof that we were in the final 4 of a cut-throat bocci tournament, but it's true. I'm really gifted at that sport about 50% of the time. The next morning we took the Focus (American made or die) "up North" to Sleeping Bear, a camping ground on Lake Michigan known for it's huge sand dunes.

This is Lake Michigan (that's not the other side in the background, it's a huge island)

View from the top of muy grande dune.

then...Running down the dunes of course...

Our campsite. Michigan is soo green! (not in the liberal sense)

And drove the 5 hours back to the airport the next morning...

One thing I forgot to mention is our trip to Cedar Point, a huge amusement park 2 hours out of Detroit. I haven't been on a roller coaster since 9th grade! There were a lot of families, a million kids, lots of fat white asses bouncing around, and even a couple guys on steroids wearing ripped tank tops (obviously ripped by their bulging muscles) The best ride?...THE MILLENNIUM FORCE, "the ride with the force of a millennium behind it." Rated number one by roller-coaster enthusiasts renting turquoise Ford Focuses for the week.

All in all, a great trip to a beautiful state, with a wonderful person;)