In Colca Canyon
It´s been about three weeks now from my last post. Sorry it took so long but we´ve been in canyons and on an island with no electricity so internet access has been scarce to say the least. I know many people are busy and can´t read this whole thing, so I´ll try to start doing a little sum up at the beginning for those who don´t have time. I´m reading a book right now that starts each chapter with little summary points of what´s to come. Mostly it´s benign but every once in a while it´s something like ¨the murder of so and so¨ and it drives me nuts. So if you are like me and despise spoilers, skip this next section.
Recent events:
- To Colca Canyon from Arequipa: Cruz del Condor and hiking into the canyon to Sengalle
- Arequipa 470th Anniversary Celebration
- Cotahuasi Canyon: local festival and invitation, hot bathes, Bosque de Piedras, Sipia waterfall
- Sick again in Arequipa
- Puno, Lake Titicaca, and Isle Taquile
- Moving on to Bolivia
Man, that makes it sound like so much less. How the heck did I write so much about it then?
I apologize for the length but just remember that however long it takes you to read, it probably took me three or four times that long to write. Enjoy what you can and what you miss, I promise we won´t be insulted.
Feels like an old fashioned radio program – when last we left them Sara and Chris were in Nazca waiting to leave for Arequipa. We got very lucky that the woman at the company was so nice to us. She even lowered the price of the fairly pricey tickets since they didn´t know what time the bus would actually be coming into the station (turns out it was before 11pm so it wasn´t too bad). When it got late enough, we sat around in the terminal – pretty much locked in actually – and watched TV (in English!). There´s a Universal Studios channel here that plays shows in English. It was actually refreshing though I still have no idea what Brothers and Sisters is actually supposed to be about.
The bus ride was thankfully uneventful and we had somewhat comfy seats. The main problem on buses is having to safeguard your things, which usually means keeping a backpack in your lap with a big bag or two under the bus. The problem for me is waiting overnight having to pee with a bag in my lap. I´ve already got a small bladder and I tell you what the backpack pressure doesn´t help. We wouldn´t be so worried except for that the very first bus I got on in Ecuador someone crawled under Chris´ seat and stole his head lamp. Not a great introduction to buses. And what a strange thing to steal! So it´s just better not to leave your things on the floor at your feet unless your able to keep your feet behind it at all times. Fortunately, I stay awake longer than most people on the bus and always take good stock of the people around me (who are almost always sleeping or snoring quite soundly), and we haven´t had any problems yet. So Ecuador seemed the much scarier place for buses.
We got into the terminal in Arequipa sooner than we thought, though it was still ten or eleven hours. We got a (at first) very nice taxi driver who talked up his city quite well. Arequipa is called the white city because all of the old colonial buildings are built with beautiful white volcanic rock. They´ve done a great job conserving most of it and he was telling us all about it. When we told him about our plans to go to Puno and Lake Titicaca, he told us the joke in Peru since the lake is half Peruvian and half Bolivian that in Peru they say, we´ll keep the titi and the Bolivians can have the caca. Chris didn´t get the Spanish at first but even when he did I still don´t think he thought it was as amusing as I did. So we had plans (but no reservations of course) for what hostel we wanted to go to, but our driver convinced us it was a less than great area (it´s just fine and where we are now) and took us to a different hotel with the obvious purpose of gaining a commission. We were exhausted and didn´t want to argue so we just took it. Chris got sick when we tried to go out for breakfast and had to run back to the hotel to vomit. Then after a nap, we went to look for a new hostel and I started feeling less than wonderful - which works out nicely when you have a bathroom door that doesn´t close. Fortunately, none of my sick stints seem to last for more than a few hours at most.
We ran into another tourist (more of a long term traveler) at the first hotel who originally caught our notice when he kept staring at me so much that I had to go back into the room while I was waiting for Chris. He approached us when we came down. He was from somewhere in France though we couldn´t understand where when he told us. He was shirtless, bare chested with a beer gut, shaved head minus the three several centimeter greased pieces that hung down onto his forehead, and very, very opinionated. He had something bad to say about just about everyone in the world. But he complimented Obama on what he was doing getting rid of the (choice words) immigrants in Arizona. Despite seeing the crazy in this guy´s eye and originally trying not to contradict him, I couldn´t hold back from telling him that he was wrong and that being an Arizonan, I think the whole thing is absolutely terrible and not Obama´s doing at all. Didn´t quite shut him up but at least he backed off a little. He was looking for someone to climb the big mountain near the city, El Misti, with but had been waiting for a couple months. Thank god Chris didn´t have any stupid ideas like I was afraid he would about going with him. I know a few of Chris´climbing friends are crazy, but it´s usually in a good way. Oh well. Hope the guy finds a partner, just not my boyfriend.
We went that night for a drink in the town center, the Plaza de Armas. Every city has one and they always have a big church. This one is massive, gorgeous, and one of less than a hundred in the world allowed to fly the Vatican flag (I have to take a picture of it for my very Catholic step-grandmother Alice). The square has a set of second story restaurants overlooking the plaza and it makes a great place to relax and people watch. At least it was relaxing until I swung my arm around and broke my glass spilling beer all over Chris. Don´t think the people were very happy with me. Apparently clumsiness follows you internationally.
The next morning we left some of our bigger bags at a new hostel in the area we were originally planning on going to - very nice place with far fewer tourists - and left for the terminal again to catch a bus to Colca Canyon. There are two big canyons here Colca (6 hours from Arequipa) and Cotahuasi (11 hours). It is in dispute which of the two is the deepest canyon in the world but the current measurements say Cotahuasi. I have to say I´m not exactly the most patriotic person in the world (especially when traveling) but I definitely felt a pang in my American pride when I heard that it´s more than twice as deep as the Grand Canyon.
On the bus ride up, we watched Braveheart in Spanish (I now know - though I probably did already - that Freedom is Libertad in Spanish) and I had to pee more than I ever have in my life. It´s that whole backpack on the lap thing again. It was miserable and I have never been more relieved, as literally and figuratively as you would like to take it. The terminal was fairly miserable. We weren´t able to buy our tickets straight through to the town at the end of the canyon, Cabanconde, so we had to stop and wait in the first city, Chivay, which is touristy and not somewhere we wanted to be. The security guards were very pushy, as were the other tourists. We had to buy ¨tourist tickets¨ (you have to have them to go to Cruz del Condor - but we´re coming to that) which were more expensive than we thought. It wouldn´t have been a problem except that we thought they were trying to rip us off. Even then we wouldn´t have cared if it hadn´t been for the fact that all the money goes to Chivay instead of also to all the other little towns along the canyon rim. There was a local woman in the terminal with a really horrible cough. We both thought she probably has tuberculosis. I told Chris how guilty I felt feeling bad for her but also feeling a little afraid of her and he had the really good point that no matter if we contracted it or not, we´d be treated - and she won´t. None of these people can have the access to care we do even when we don´t have insurance. Chris just read Mountains Beyond Mountains (it´s next on my list) and told me about how Paul Farmer talks about TB being a disease of the poor. I just feel so sad thinking what will end up happening to that woman. Someday something has to change for her. For these people someday something has to be different.
People formed a line for the bus an hour or more before it got there, which no one told us about and a big group of French girls who got there after us ended up in front of us in line. And unfortunately being as white as we are people just try to take advantage and cut in front of us all the time, which my sense of fairness has a real hard time with (also I´m a lot bigger so I could definitely get pushy if I wanted to - I don´t but sometimes it´s really tempting). It´s not just the line unfortunately. We got on the bus that was already near full so it was a pushing contest to grab seats. I found separate ones for Chris and I while he was getting the luggage under the bus. But unfortunately there was yougn woman with a little kid so I had to give one to her and poor Chris had to stand a while. People on these buses have no sense of personal space, which I´m doing much better with, except for again a lot of it seems to be because we´re tourists so we get shoved, sat on, leaned on, stuff thrown on, and even buggers wiped on the headrest practically in your hair. Pretty nasty stuff. Gets a little old.
So we finally got to Cabanaconde and were immediately approached by a white woman as we got off the bus. It turned out she was soliciting for the same hostel we´d already researched online and we intending on going to. Worked out well. Except we didn´t make a reservation (never do) and ended up shoving two beds together instead of having a normal big one (here a queen size bed is called ¨matriminio¨- really threw me off at first, I kept saying we really don´t need a wedding suite). The woman who greeted us was the girlfriend of the owner and when we went back to the main building (there were three - but the town is really small, quiet, and safe), we learned it was his birthday and they gave a free round of drinks to everyone there. When we got ours, I asked if we should waited for the toast. She hadn´t really thought of that and most people were already drinking theirs so we said a quick Salud and had a nice Pisco Sour. Pisco Sour is kind of the typical mixed drink for Peru since Pisco is made exclusively(? at least originally) here. At one of the vineyard tours, I was asked what the typical American drink was. I was stumped and told him probably beer. Anyway, the Pisco Sour was quite good. And after yet another bus ordeal, we decided to split a large (<1.25L?) bottle of the only beer we both really like here - Cusquena Negra (or Malta if you prefer). It´s the only dark beer we´ve encountered in the country. I feel so spoiled now that I´m finally a beer drinker having lived in Colorado. All they have here is less than a dozen pilseners, or are they lagers? I don´t really know the difference. They all taste like piss water to me - only wheats and darks as far as I´m concerned. Oh well. We´ll have to try to figure out how we can bring a sample back for my uncle Dane without ending up with a backpack full of sticky clothes and broken glass. We also ate a little at the Hostel - Pachamama - which was voted no. 7 I think for off the beaten path bars of the world. It was really nice. I had a little salad, sans lettuce which I really needed, and Chris had a crepe covered in bananas and crunchy chocolate sauce.
I hate admitting it but I had a little minute of a quarter life crisis watching the people working there. They were all young and had not a care in the world - drinking, serving, listening to music. It´s not so much that I envy them as that it was my first holy cow I´m 25 moment. Not that there´s anything wrong with 25, but what the hell happened to 22? I just got this intense feeling like medical had sucked the life out of me. That suddenly three years had past without my knowledge, and I wanted them back. I wasn´t exactly a party girl in college but I had a lot of fun with my roommates. We went out. We enjoyed ourselves. It´s not that I haven´t in medical school but it´s like wearing tinted glasses. It´s just so different. Everything can be so much more serious. I´m sure someone would contradict me if I said that I used to be easy-going but at the very least I used to be different. Something in me wants that part of me back. We´ll see what we can do.
The night was fairly cold and the morning was worse. We woke up early to go to Cruz del Condor - the viewing point near the condors´ nests in the canyon. We´d been told there was a combi leaving at 7:00 and we should get there at 6:40 to make sure we got a seat. No such luck. We walked out of the building to see what we didn´t realize was the combi already leaving. We asked around and were lucky enough to find a group of three Australians being taken advantage of for an 80 soles round trip by a local man with a van (instead of 2 soles each person each way on the bus). At the same time, good for him though. Other people need to profit from tourism too. We shared the way there with them and Chris gave them an extra large sum to help out a bit.
When we got there, we met a middle aged woman from Arkansas who we spent the morning with. She´d been in a mountain area doing very similar volunteer work to what we´d been doing in Huancayo for two months. At home, she´s a adolescent counselor for teenagers in trouble with the law. She was really a wonderful soul to encounter and very sweet. She and Chris talked a lot about all the outdoorsy places they love at home, and I was embarrassed to have never been to most of them. She also stoked Chris´ interest in going to the jungle. So we´ll have to see what we can arrange in Bolivia (it´s a little too pricey here in Peru). It came time that we had to start working our way back up to the road from what we thought was the main lookout and she wished us both good luck and we hugged. It´s funny the anonymous comraderie that comes from traveling. You share so much with each other but sometimes never your names.
Condor flying in Colca Canyon
We started back up having only seen the condors starting to soar and stretch lower in the canyon. It had been a long way off and rather hard to see. Chris was nervous to have paid so much for the damn tickets and the ride that nothing would come of it. When we arrived, we´d been of only a handfull there but now it was really crowded, especially up at the top. Just as we got to the top and wanted to take a last look, one of them buzzed the crowd. Amazingly close. It was stupendous. Chris was thrilled and said that made it all worth it. But we moved in closer while we were waiting for the next combi to come and the condors decided to put on a full out show for us. At one point Chris heard someone next to him say he counted 13 total out there. They zoomed in and out, either knowing we were all eager to see or seeing too many smoking Europeans and knowing they´d surely get a meal sooner or later. It was fantastic. They flew so close to our heads. We were all snapping pictures like crazy and Chris took a great video of them flying over us. I´m green with envy that Chris has an amazing close up of one. He told me beforehand that they have a ten foot wingspan and I can believe it. They were just huge. Chris spent half the time smiling in awe and the other half talking about how much his dad would have loved it and how Chris wished he could have been there. We quickly jumped on a bus that came by at just about the end of the show. Chris said it was worth all of it.
We got back to the hostel just in time for a quick breakfast that was a little more than the normal coffee or tea with bread and jam - a crepe, great for me, and a scrambled egg, great for Chris. The only other white person working there - turned out to be a Dutch guy named Peter - sat to eat with us and we ended up talking for a good long time. He´s taking time to be here helping his friends at the hotel but normally he studies a specific type of drum I´ve never even heard of one on one with a master in India. He started talking to us about philosophy in India and meditation retreats. There´s much more detail than that but suffice it to say he told us he´d only ever spoken about all of it a few times before and that it always meant something and something good would happen to him afterwards. I took it a little more serious than Chris but it made us both excited for India and I´m now hell-bent on taking a meditation course or retreat. That just sounds like something I could really use in my future life.
We left for one of the small towns on the canyon floor (called Sengalle or Oasis) with some brief traced in the air instructions from Peter. As we left with me with my stuffed little backpack and Chris with his big orange backpacker´s bag, we encountered a group of dogs on the outskirts of town. We moved cautiously and most of them left us alone after a little sniffing around. Except for one. There was a black lab looking mutt (though they all look like labs to me) who followed us into the fields we had to walk through. We kept thinking she would turn back but she never did. We took to calling her sweetie since we didn´t know her name. After nearly 40 minutes, we realized we were lost. We got to the edge of the farming fields (having been very careful to walk on the edge and not in the fields the whole time) and lost the path. Maybe she knew we were lost and wanted to make sure we got there. Unfortunately, the actual path, which we eventually found after having to walk through areas we didn´t want to walk through, was over and around a big hill. The pup (I know I always say that but she did look young too) stayed with us til the top and then sat looking like she´d go back. I called her our little guardian angel, staying with us until we got back to the right path. But then she came running back to us after I let out a yelp when I found out the hard way that I had some very big cactus thorns stuck to my jacket. She stayed with us the whole way down. It was really dusty hard going. I´m not terribly sure-footed in the first place but had to really take my time because it was the sort of place where if you fell you were sure to lose a knee cap. The pup was something of a daddy´s girl and tried to follow Chris until it was clear that she was hot and would try to find shade under rocks. We took to trying to find empty bottles (of course and unfortunately, there was trash everywhere, I wish we could blame the tourists but we saw more than a few locals throwing empty bottles out of bus windows) and cutting them in half to feed her water. Chris said I was encouraging her to stay with us but if she was coming with us I wasn´t going to let her die of dehydration. She didn´t quite get it at first. Or maybe she just wasn´t interested. But despite being so hesitant about her being around at first, I pointed down to her into the bottles when she wouldn´t drink and she would just nuzzle and try to lick my hand. It was very cute. Going down was hard. Everyone had made references to it being hard but we thought, what´s the big deal it´s just down? It sucked. There´s no better word. My feet and back were just killing me by the time we were done. I was grumpy and tired. It took two, maybe two and a half hours to get down the canyon with the view of the Oasis teasing us from afar the entire time.
My one day best friend looking out on the fields going into the canyon
She looked for shade anywhere she could, it sucks having black fur in the sun
Getting there was such a huge relief for all of us. The dog immediately collapsed under the shade of palm trees in the hostel we didn´t stay at (and received some good petting too). We found a nice place that had a room. There are actually five or six hostels down there. At first that probably doesn´t sound surprising until you realize that there is no electricity and everything they have or need is brought down to them by burros on the same trail we were on - those poor things! Groups would pass all the time with three or four well loaded burros followed by a guy who would inevitably and very nicely ask if everything was okay.
We settled down into some hammocks to read. We would´ve loved to dip our tired aching bodies in the self renewing pools with the water running over rocks (it was just beautiful) but the shade hits the bottom of the canyon earlier in the afternoon. We were enjoying reading and the whole area was gorgeously peaceful until that same group of French girls from the bus showed up and didn´t seem to understand the meaning of quiet. It was just so unfortunate and rude. Then another couple showed up and showed Chris´ hammock right after he´d stood up to go get something and come back. They left their tourist ticket in the hammock which Chris later found. When I approached them at dinner to try to return it to them, they acted like I was an inconvenience and interrupting their conversation. It´s really unfortunate that we´ve had so many bad encounters with European tourists down here - I´ve got an especially bad flavor in my mouth for French females. Chris and I have discussed the differences at length and realized that we think we prefer American tourists simply because they are fewer and it is a rarer type (absolutely not meant to be bragging) of American that travels as opposed to in Europe where everyone with any money does it. The problem in Sengalle was that we didn´t really all the other tourists there (except for the loud French girls ironically) were part of a tour group and were paying to be there. And though we are not sure if they came down on burro (though they all looked really fresh and relaxed when they arrived), they were certainly paying to ride a burro for the ascent. I know it´s important for the economy there but there was just something so unsettling for us that they came and went that way - like they didn´t earn it. If they weren´t going to work and exercise to get there, it was as though they couldn´t appreciate it as well or treat the experience with as much respect. And it was irritating.In any case, we´d brought down a lot of food (including peanut butter, jelly, and of course bread) with us but when dinner (and the room) were cheaper than what we´d expected we decided to splurge, and I´m glad we did. Waiting for dinner was hell. We were both so tired and hungry and a big group of American(?) tourists took up the nicer table closer to the river so we were stuck with the loud Europeans who ignored us. I was really impressed, and continue to be, that Chris and I always do so well making conversation just the two of us. I worked briefly as a hostess in high school at a Mexican restaurant and used to watch these cute little old couples come in, sit at a table across from each other, and have absolutely nothing to say. And it´s really been one of my biggest fears that someday I will be in one of those couples. Other than being tired, we do a great job of keeping conversation going. But sometimes I do miss the group dynamic - especially with some of the wonderful people we are missing at home.
Dinner was stupendous for how tired and hungry we were. A big bowl of corn chowder and a nice sized plate of spagghetti. Chris always notes how big plates of pasta out here are but I think it´s just been a while since he´s been to the Olive Garden. And I have to say it was also wonderful because it was one of the first meals we´ve had that wasn´t tons of bread or the constant combo of potatoes and rice. I know it sounds crazy coming from someone obsessed with baking, but I am absolutely sick to death of bread. That´s right, you heard it. I am so sick of bread. And I mean bread bread. Bring on the pasta and chips and cookies. I cannot stand the constant smell of baking bread on every block down here. Peru has ruined bread for me. Chris says the main foods he misses are vegetables, beans, and nuts. For me it´s vegetables, beans, cereal, and really soft cookies. Something to look forward to when we stop off in Pennsylvania.
After dinner, most of the hostel went to sleep and we took advantage of the lack of electricity and tried to lay out in the wet grass with Chris´ sleeping bag to look at the stars. It amount we could see under that sky in the canyon was overwhelming. Chris was cold and I was worrying asettled in and had a wonderful fifteen or twenty minutes watching the sky. Oh! I forgot the reason we laid out in the first place. The woman from Arkansas told us there was a meteor shower that night. She always remembers it because it comes just before her son´s birthday. We saw together three or four shooting stars and Chris saw two or three that I didn´t. Guess I´m just not observant enough. It was still amazing. And it was wonderful until we were unfortunately and rudely interrupted by some scarry barking. At first we didn´t think anything of it. And then, when it got closer, we both jumped up immediately at the ready for an attack. In retrospect, it´s more likely she was barking at the horses behind the nearby building and that we just startled her ironically, but when we saw it was our companion from the day, I was hurt and pissed. It looked like she was ready to attack us. Unfortunately, neither of us felt comfortable laying back down so that was the end of our star gazing. We went inside and Chris fell asleep immediately while I tossed and turned worrying about all the spiders I´d seen on our dirt floor.
A flock of parakeets near the canyon bottom
When we woke, most of the hostel had cleared out since they were all with tour groups and left early. It was bliss. No noisy European tourists, just peace and quiet. We walked down to the bridge that would have led us to the little towns across the canyon if we´d had time. On the way down we encountered a flock of parakeets, which I can honestly say is the first I´d ever seen. It was nice to stretch our legs and then we headed back to the hostel to lounge by the pool. It was early enough that it was quite chilly, so we sat out and read. The surroundings were beautiful and the light coming down the sides of the canyon was exquisite. Then, and you have to imagine big thudding footsteps on this one, the next batch of Euro tourist groups showed up. There were tons of them and they immediately jumped into the pool - and I mean jumped, splashing us over and over again in the process. Oh well. We moved to the hammocks to relax and read until again a European tourist jumped into Chris´ hammock as soon as he got up for a minute to grab something from our room. We decided to leave early.
Colca Canyon
We started the slow climb up the switchbacks, going a few at a time between stops, and giving me plenty of time to stop and breathe. Chris had the bigger bag but he´s just a machine and claims he loves to torture himself. Well, I don´t love to torture myself but it was a damn good work out for my sad little lungs. I just missed my little friend. It made Chris and I talk a lot about how we are ready for dogs when we get home. When we started the trip, he was saying how sad he was that for me the best part of the trip would be coming home so we can get dogs. Anyway, the ascent was more than 1000m, which Chris says is about twice the height of the ascent for Bierstadt (what was supposed to be Preki and my first 14er for our joint birthday - World Cup got in the way, a man has to have his priorities). So now in essence I´ve done my first 14er. Yay me! It was actually much easier going up than coming down, with much less bitchiness from me. Chris was a wonderful little cheerleader as well. We were passed a few times (other than by tourists on burros) but it was ok because most of them didn´t have much weight in luggage. We reached the top by dusk and it turned out to be perfect timing. We stopped to take a few triumphant pictures and then ran into two guys who´d done the down and up (without anything bags) in a single day. We passed through the fields and a farmer who must have seen them earlier called out how strong and how courageous we all were to do it so quickly (I wasn´t about to correct him - though we did finish in about 3.5 hrs which was under the predicted 4).
Triumph! after scaling the canyon and coming out alive
When we got back to the hostel, we were sweaty and dead. After a quick shower, we went back for a well deserved dinner. We split a plate of ¨nachos¨ which entailed spiced, with aji of course, corn chips resembling fritos (which I´ve since become addicted to) and guac. I had some veggie soup and Chris needed the lettuce-less salad I´d had before. And of course we split a Cusqueña negra. You´d think we would have slept like rocks but it was actually a horrible night of sleep. You never can tell. The hostel was nice though. And thank goodness the toilets actually had seats because my legs probably were too tired to deal with not having one. I don´t remember how much I have or haven´t said but I realized some of the things we´ve come to take for granted as normal down here some people may not know. Most places don´t have toilet seats. Some reing a bucket of water to flush. You never ever put TP in the toilet. There´s a wastebasket that you have to use, which is why all bathrooms here smell so wonderful. Hot water does not come commonly or easy. And if your shower does have hot water, it problably means there´s a ¨suicide shower,¨ a term we picked up from our friend Larry from the use of electricity in a shower. Public restrooms you have to pay for. They give you a small wad of paper and there´s almost never soap. This is where being a germaphobe and always having hand sanitizer comes in handy. It just really makes me appreciate the simple things at home - like how going to the bathroom. Oh and of course water too. Never forget how wonderful it is to drink water from the tap.
We woke up early the next morning to actually be on time this time to catch the collectivo to Cruz del Condor. It was quite crowded - including the local who was still drunk at 6am and crying about something I couldn´t understand. It doesn´t sound nice but it was more startling than sad. We got there early, though a big group of who we think we Italians were already set up. Still, having been there before, we knew the perfect spot and set up to wait. As more people piled in, we learned we were not in the unblockable spot we thought we were as Europeans (I swear I´m not being biased - no one spoke English) piled in front of us in areas that were marked as do not cross within inches of Chris´ head. I was pissed. Then the Italians started smoking. Really fit in with the picturesque moment. It turned out the condors were apparently tuckered out from the other day´s extensive acrobatics and only stayed in the bottom of the canyon without coming in close. We left on the bus in time to make it back for breakfast again and pack up to take the bus back. We also found Chris´ favorite snack, plaintain chips, in prepackaged form, which was a big plus for him.
We were lucky that we´d thought to buy our tickets in advance the night before when we´d arrived exhausted from our hike. We bought the last two seats, which meant we were in the back of the bus and in a row of five, I was in the middle. I thought this would be a good thing and I¨d have extra foot room but they let unticketed passengers fill up the aisle on the more than two hour trip back to Chivay. Needless to say, I spent nearly two hours playing foot war with the guy standing in front of me who seemed to nearly be trying to sit in my lap. Aside from my irritation, Chris had to deal with the guy next to him playing his music loud enough for all to hear. There always appears to be a bus-wide soundtrack (we really think no one in this country buys headphones) and it drives Chris crazy. It´s usually American 80s and Spanish R&B, along with a little bit of repetitive local music. Not ideal let me tell you. This time we didn`t get a movie but at least the aisle nearly emptied out when we got to Chivay. All but three people from the aisle had unloaded. One of these was a young woman with a young boy who sat on the armrest in front of me to my right talking to a woman she knew sitting up and to my left. I only mention it because they were obviously discussing something very personal and private because she started crying. And her I was with her dead center a few feet in front of me. I tried as hard as I could to avert my view but she was right there, and I couldn´t help or comfort. I at least tried really hard not to listen. But it was still really sad. Otherwise, the bus was a great place and time to do some thinking. Chris can read but, despite having done a pretty good job of nearly eliminating my motion sickness, I cannot. So I think. I think about everything and I really mean everything in my life that has come to pass. It´s amazing to have this time in which I am forced to sit and simply consider - to have the time to process things that are sometimes nearly a decade old. It sounds strange but I consider it a gift.
We made it back to Arequipa in time for the beginning of the festivities for the celebration of the 470th anniversary of the city´s founding. We´d heard over and over that there were supposed to be fireworks that night (fuegos artificiales), but they never happened. So with that misinformation in mind, we headed to the plaza to see what was going on and have dinner. The restaurants are all in the second story of one side of the plaza and as a tourist, you get hounded with menus any time you walk by. This time, we actually wanted to eat and picked the first one when the man showed us a cheaper menu for the evening (15 soles, which equates to about 6 dollars, for an appetizer, main, and small drink). We sat up on the balcony and watched the mass of humanity in the plaza. There was really not much in the way of organized activity the way we´d expected but still everyone was out - selling food, glowing toys, and anything you could think of. There was also a troupe of performers doing there bit for a very large crowd that we could see well down into. They looked like cartoon characters from afar and in that surrounding because they were all very tall, lacky, and white (though it did turn out they were very native Spanish speakers as we found out a couple nights later when we were in the same restaurant). We´d decided to have a fancier dinner so we could try a few of the famed native Arequipa dishes. We both opted for the papas ocopas for an appetizer - potatoes in a garlic cream sauce with olives and a few squares of fried cheese. I had a big plate of veggie fried rice and Chris had the rocoto relleno - a rocoto pepper stuffed with ground meat and other accoutrements. We each had a little Pisco Sour (no where near as good as at Pachamama´s bar) and of course shared a big Cusqueña. Chris said at that point it was the best meal he´d had in Peru. Quite a success. At the restaurant next to us, a group of old men sat drinking (six of the large bottles between the four of them) and toasting Arequipa. It was wonderful to see. Then, as has been fairly customary while we´ve been here, a Peruvian flute band came up and started playing. After which, they immediately approached all the white people for a donation. It´s just so funny for me that everytime I hear or see a Peruvian flute band, I immediately think of South Park - especially when I´m at a restaurant that serves cuy (guinea pig). Thank you to whoever got that reference.
Fire Juggling in the Plaza de Armas
After dinner, we walked around a bit and watched everything that was going on. The whole city really must have been out. It was hard to move around on the streets but thank goodness they´d closed down some of the streets surrounding the plaza. There were multiple men painted silver or bronze performing. Chris enjoyed watching one performing for a while until I noticed that he´d taken note of me and was trying to engage me in part of his act. I turned red and ran away fast. I´m sure after that we went to find Chris an ice cream though I can´t specifically remember it because we went to get him ice cream nearly every night in Arequipa. We did the same in Cuenca, Ecuador, which is amusing because the two cities are so reminiscent of each other, in architecture and in spirit. The abundance of ice cream is great for Chris since with being sick so often hís belt is no longer able to be pulled tight enough to do any good. For me, I´ve tried to exercise self-control but occasionally I´d get a cone too, even though I don´t need it. It´s just really hard to turn down sauco (that´s elderberry, a flavor we absolutely love and have no idea why it doesn´t exist in America) or tres leches ice cream.
Chris was feeling tired so we went back to the hotel. We really loved the place we stayed - Hotel Tito. Everyone on staff was so incredibly courteous and helpful to us. The manager, a man named Julio, was always willing to joke and engage with us. Multiple nights you´d find us leaning over the counter to listen and talk with him about inter-american politics, Peruvian history from Incas to modern wars, and race relations. When we met him he was missing most of his bottom teeth, a few days before we left, we both noticed he suddenly had teeth. Interesting. He was a great guy and though we couldn´t always understand everything, it was great practice for us and seemed like a great outlet for him. That night I settled in while Chris slept and actually allowed myself to enjoy some boob tube, which is really nice when you haven´t had any in a long time. I watched the Simpsons, which it seems is always on. It´s amazing how closely they´re able to match the dubbed voices to the original and it´s not too hard to follow. After, I watched To Sir With Love for the first time in English with Spanish subtitles. I decided two things from this: I need to watch more movies with Spanish subtitles on because it´s very good practice and Sidney Poitier has about the same character in the few movies I´ve seen him in. It´s the same that Chris feels about Denzel Washington with the exception of Training Day (though I don´t agree).
We woke up early Sunday morning to get to the Plaza to see the parade (Chris actually woke first to find many still drunk and the whole city smelling of piss). I can tell you now many of the things that we didn´t know before. The parade did start on time at 10am - but it didn´t get to us until almost two hours later because it started 4 or 5 kilometers away. We were impressed the whole time how controlled and well behaved such a huge crowd was (20,000 people there? We have a newspaper were I got the statistics but I can´t remember) but it turned out there were many injuries (70, but most related to heat or inebriation) and a few deaths, but seemingly unrelated. Since the parade hadn´t started yet, we went out for breakfast and Chris had a wonderful, non-instant coffee (a rare find). We shared a mini sauco pie and a pastry of honest to god toasted chestnuts. It was wonderful. We went and joined the masses before the parade reached us, A woman came right up to us and stuck Peruvian flag pins on us - good salesmanship. Luckily, we wanted them but were unable to find them during the Peruvian Independence Day (which turned out to be a much, much smaller holiday than Arequipa´s Anniversary), so they are on our camera bags now. The parade started and had representatives from all over the country, and all over the continent. There were dancers and actual huge floats for big companies (we saw a famous singer for one, a boxer for another, and a guy the girls went crazy for who Chris thinks he saw on No Reservations). It was immense, and really, really long. It ended up lasting something like 10 hours. We hadn´t realized that there were five agrupomientos and were surprised after two hours when we saw another sign that said agrupomiento 2. We had a very nice older man who was a farmer from the coast next to us for the first part of the parade who explained a good bit of things for us. It was all incredibly colorful and the dancing was beautiful.
I have to say that I am just incredibly impressed with Peruvian women. Even in the midst of this parade and standing and watching, we could still see women all around us breastfeeding. No cover or hiding or anything, just pulling up their shirts and letting their kids go at it. I know that breastfeeding is done here in large part also because of the economic incentive but I am just so grateful for the step up they give their children in development. It is amazing. And besides that, breastfeeding mothers and actually some of the thinnest women we´ve seen around here, so good for them.
Young girls dancing in the parade
It was all great until we realized that this kilometers long parade moved in a way that meant we were stuck on the other side from our hostel and completely stranded. Not a fun thing to realize. The whole plaza itself was trapped off except for two corners in which a huge flow of people in each direction converged to try to squeeze by each other. I can truthfully say that this is the closest I have come to a panic attack in a long time. It was miserable. Eventually we got through and went out for a quick lunch in a rather abandoned part of the city. It was nice to get away from the crowd.
We then made our way back into the plaza - I just kind of held on to Chris´ bag and closed my eyes. We stood for a while and actually found our friend again but decided it was time to leave when it was starting to get colder (we didn´t expect it to go so long and didn´t bring appropriate clothes) and we and our friend noted some young men eyeing up the crowd for opportunities to steal. We walked forever, maybe 20 or 25 blocks?, and finally found police officers who showed us where we could cross the parade so we could get back to the hostel and change. After that, yes, we really did go back again. But this time, we stayed on our side. It was more difficult to see but there was no way we were getting stuck in the plaza again. We were found by a young and fairly drunk man who was very interested in talking to us. In finding out we were Americans, he said he thought European women were the best-looking in the world - but I was pretty too. He also said Chris looked like a pirate with his beard. He talked to us for a long time and wanted to go buy beers for us. We insisted we were still exhausted from the previous day and needed to sleep. He said ok and made us promise we would still be there when he got back from getting himself a drink. He got back and had bought a bottle of Pisco and a bottle of rum to share with us thinking we hadn´t tried Pisco before. He was unfortunately very persistent and because it just in general wouldn´t be a safe or good idea for us to drink with a stranger in the middle of all of this, we had to leave. Otherwise, it had been very nice and encouraging how everyone at the parade was watching out for us.
Church in the Plaza de Armas Arequipa
People watching the parade from the plaza rooftops
We went to dinner at Pio Pio, the chicken place we´d seen full of locals every night we passed it. With no host or wait list, we were left to hover over tables to wait for an opening. It was like a game of strategy having to block our way to make sure no one else would take a table when it was our turn. The couple we´d been ¨competing¨ with not so much invited or asked but just sat down with us. So we shared a table. At first we didn´t talk and then we did start conversing and they were very pleasant people who were very concerned for our safety and that we´d have a good experience. The food was really, really good. Some of the juiciest chicken either of us had ever had and having ketchup and mustard for the french fries was actually amazing (another one of those things you can take for granted). In the end, the meal left us grateful that we follow the locals because it´s always good food and a great experience. After later seeing the more touristy side of the city, we came to have a greater appreciation for the way that we travel. It´s sad to see how people come to pay a lot of money to live in comfort and go on sheltered tours, and they never try the real food or talk to the locals and even contribute to the part of the economy that needs a little more help. By being a little more off the tourist trail, we´ve met great people and seen a little more of the culture than we likely would have otherwise. I´m really grateful for how lucky we´ve been and how welcoming the people we´ve met have been.
The next day was a little more relaxed. It was technically still a holiday so many places were closed. We probably went to the local market we went to so many times where they sell juices and meat and produce. You pass and the proprietors are yelling out at you - what do you need? what are you going to take? The mandarins were always amazing. We also I´m sure went to the Plaza Vea, which is the only big supermarket chain in the country we´ve seen but only the middle and upper class seem to shop there. It drives Chris crazy because you can count on being in line for at least twenty minutes. People here are a little slower than we´d like, which is saying a lot since Chris is typically slower moving than I´d like.
We went that afternoon to the famous museum in town to see Juanita, an Incan era mummy. First, we watched a twenty minute video - in English with Italian subtitles - about the archeologist who discovered her. They found her on the mountain Ampato nearby Arequipa, nearly fully intact from having been frozen in the snow. This was in the 90s when they found her and they eventually had to send her to the states to do imaging (it looked like a CT) to determine her cause of death, which they saw to be a blow to the forehead. They talked about how the Incans believed the mountains were gods and that every so many years or with a natural disaster (they actually talked about the time cycle of El Niño), they would sacrifice a child on the mountain because children were the most beautiful and pure. The kids were chosen from birth, hundreds of them, and then when the time came, they would choose the most beautiful according to skill, talent, and intelligence to sacrifice. They would make a weeks long trek from Cusco to the mountain and the priest would make the sacrifice after drinking chicha laden with hallucinogenic plants. They said from the colors of her clothes, they can tell that Juanita was likely from the royal family. After that, because we were the only English-speaking couple there, we had a private tour of the museum with an English speaking curator. They had all sorts of pieces excavated from the grave site and from two others from two other children who were sacrificed that they found later. There were mummies found in Peru, Bolivia, and even further south. Juanita was the only one that wasn´t technically a mummy because she still had all of her internal organs. At the end, we got to see Juanita, encased in glass and kept at subzero temperatures. Looking at her through the glass, you had to look through your reflection and it made her feel even more small - she was only 11 or 12. It was somehow so surreal to be looking at the small body, still with intact skin in fetal position, of a girl sacrificed over 500 years ago. It was a really powerful experience to see yourself superimposed on her - so young but so old. But also it was so sad to think that it was only children - that they had to know their whole life what was coming, certainly an honor but still so sad. It also made me think what it would be like for the Incans to believe that the mountains were gods - to have not seen the tops of the mountains and think that was where they live. What mystery lives there to think of not having seen, to imagine what could be. But at the same time, I don´t think it´s possible for us. There is something in our nature that makes us need to climb to the top of the mountain, always to see for ourselves. Maybe something magical is missing from our lives because of that overdriven sense of exploration and the desire to learn. But just imagine looking up to the top of the mountain and truly believing the gods live there because you´ve never seen it.
Chris with a lovely glass of papaya juice
Later that night we went to a vegetarian restaurant that recreates local dishes with soy meat. It was nice to finally try Lomo Saltado. Also, we learned that I hate pineapple. We always avoid it for Chris - it gives him canker sores - but I got it in my yogurt and it turns out I associate pineapple with Malibu, and so pineapple just tastes like a hangover to me. We went exploring and found that Arequipa has a number of hidden plazas - even ran into a group of tourists on a tour of them - that are beautiful and have just incredible architecture. It´s amazing what you see if you walk around long enough.
Gnarly tree in a hidden Arequipa plaza
The next day we decided that havíng gone to Colca, we might as well go to Cotahuasi - the technically speaking deepest canyon in the world. We had heard it was much less touristy but also harder to get to. So on Tuesday at 4pm, after a big chain restaurant Italian meal knowing we wouldn´t eat again for a while, we started on the 12 hour ride to Cotahuasi. We were immediately welcomed on the bus by an older man and people were obviously happy to see tourists. It was probably the first time we´ve been the only white people on the bus. We were sat separately and got duped into switching seats in a way that gave us less space, but the larger space went to an older woman with a very curious and engaging little boy who had far too much stuff and really needed it more than us. Eventually, the aisle filled on this bus as well. Chris of course wanted to give up his seat but I really didn´t think it would be a good idea to try to stand for 7 or 8 hours. A woman with a little boy (under 2) sat in the aisle next to me and eventually asked me if I could/told me that I should take him. So I had the little boy half on and half off my lap. I didn´t mind but I was worried that when he woke he would see a stranger and start screaming. He didn´t. He just looked up and moved his head a little further up to try and a more padded area of my chest. At one point he started coughing like he was going to vomit so I sat him up quick. It passed and we lay back down. Later he started again and an old woman pointed it out to mom (who otherwise seemed not to care at all), and we quickly transferred him just in time for him to vomit on mom. Bit on my hand, my arm, and my jeans that stayed there a while. It was an interesting situation. Poor guy just didn´t feel good and I felt bad but I really didn´t feel comfortable having him on my lap again after that. Finally I got a little sleep but poor Chris couldn´t because they were blasting music to keep the driver awake (not sure whether that should be comforting or not).
We arrived around 3:30am. It is a really awful schedule for tourists because you end up paying for the bus and then full price for a half night in a hostel. We walked all over town to find the hostel we wanted but ended up having to settle for a different one. It ended up not having electricity, was very cold, had a less than appealing bathroom, and a strange proprietor. At least it was cheap. When we got moving in the afternoon, we went on a combibus to the neighboring town Alca. On the bus, we were again questioned and welcomed. When we got off, a middle aged couple we´d met who were from the area but live in Madrid and run a restaurant invited us to the town party for the end of the several days long festival of the Virgen. We were thrilled and of course said yes. It was an awkward start but the hosts immediately served us barley chica (much much better than the maiz variety) and invited us in while we waited for the couple who´d gone to change. We stood by awkwardly as they had a little ceremony to a resemblance of the virgin mother and a band played. They served us a special drink that only one person in the region is able to make. It was made with pisco (nearly two shots per glass), almonds, and warm milk. I sipped a little but wasn´t able to drink it for the mostly milk. The couple arrived and we all sat with their friends at a long table and waited for lunch. Sometimes we were able to talk, and sometimes they talked among themselves. The lunch was served of a kind of stew with the best beef. After having to previously excuse myself from the milk drink, I felt bad excusing myself from the meat too but the man across from me was thrilled and calling himself a carnivore was more than happy to take my piece. I ate the rest out of respect though it was the first beef soaked food I´ve had in years. It also had potatoes that had been freeze-dried simply by the weather in the mountains. I thought it was really good. Turns out it was hard for Chris to stomach for some reason though (a few days later it´d be hard for both of us to stomach). Then there was more chicha and a bit of drink and pass with some large beers, which I initially drank and then, I´m ashamed to say, took advantage of the machismo of the area and my gender and backed out. They started to dance and out of respect we held back but unfortunately that meant the host again approached us but this time with shots of Jack. Eventually they convinced us to come dance a bit (more of bouncing holding hands in a circle) and it was fun. Then, we thanked everyone, exchanged email addresses with the Madrid couple, and excused ourselves as they knew we were headed to the hot bathes. The whole experience was fabulous and we ate knowing that if we later got sick (which we did), it would be the price for being privy to a private party.
We walked along the canyon road and took pictures going to the hot springs Baños Luichos. There were three pools and we hopped into the first along with everyone else. It was just warm enough without being too much. The people were again very friendly and we spent some time talking to a woman from the area who had family in town. After, we caught the combi back and had PB&Js in the little plaza while a preacher was going nuts on a set up stage. It was a double dose of Catholicism for me, probably more than I´ve ever had. My step-grandmother would be thrilled. That night we tried to read in bed but Chris (who you my have guessed by this point is sensitive to sound) had to give up when they changed preachers and we could hear the new one, a little more evangelical, from our room. Sadly, it again gave me a South Park moment. This guy was so overexaggerated sounding that all I could think of was Cartman preaching. I know it´s silly but sometimes you need some things to remind you of home.
The next day we woke early to catch the 6 or 6:30 to another town Pampamarca. Again we ran into the nice old man from the bus who tried to advise us on where to go and what to do that day. The bus filled and some people didn´t make it on, which was unfortunate but the rest of us had been standing in the cold a half an hour in advance waiting. We saw so much of that town in the dark and cold before most people were up that I started to associate it with too many of my zombie movies. The bus was tiny and unfortunately we got stuck on the front seat facing backwards. Chris said I turned green. Eventually someone left and I raced to the opposite seat before someone else could take it. I felt bad for it but I was going to be sick. Poor Chris had to stay on that seat and continue to do isometrics to hold himself in place for hours. He had the seat next to me for a moment but an old woman physically pushed him out despite another seat being open. Age really is not a good excuse for bad manners.
We arrived and quickly began the hike to Bosque de Piedras (the rock forest the town was famed for). The road we had to walk up to reach the trail was so finely dusty that it was somehow reminescent of what it must be like to walk on the moon. Our feet sank in and when we left that afternoon, our footprints were still there. The beginning of the trail was incredibly steep, rocky, and covered in some of the biggest cow patties I´ve ever seen. Eventually it turned into the tried and true switchback pattern we are so used to by now. When we neared the top (and it was a ways up, not as far as previous hikes but really, really steep), we encountered ruins we hadn´t been expecting. They were rock structures used as burial sites and it was the first time I´ve ever seen intact human bones and skulls outside of museums. At first, it startled me but then we saw more and I realized they were ruins. When we reached the top, we both of course started to feel sick. So we went up a ways into the rocks, which were very reminiscent in my mind to Tent Rocks in NM, took some pictures, and decided to head down. The dust was so thick and flew into the air with our steps so easily that we had to pace ourselves twenty or thirty feet apart. We encountered the trail of a skunk we could tell. I told Chris it smelled like dirty peanuts, but from a distance he heard something very different. It´s not completely out of character but it´s not what I said. We ascended twenty minutes quicker than expected and descended about 15 quicker. The next day was the first time in this whole trip I´ve actually been sore after hiking because the downhill was so steep.
We tried when we got back to town to go to the waterfall lookout before our bus. Unfortunately, we ran out of time and had to turn back. We got seats on this bus, which eventually filled as well. The ride was quicker, which was wonderful because it made me sicker going down. We switched to a nicer hostel for our last night (they gave us towels and soap and we had a private bathroom!). We hopped a bus to go back to the hot bathes and had just enough time to relax in the hot water again for a while, which was great for our aching muscles, and then quickly catch the last bus of the day back to Cotahuasi. We had a little dinner out and relaxed in the room.
Bosque de Piedras
It was probably around that time that Chris started feeling sick again and by morning I wasn´t feeling quite well either. We had plans to go to the waterfall Sipia that morning and got on the bus hoping we´d both hold out. The ride wasn´t the most pleasant but the same kind woman we met at the bathes the first day was there with her family and they made sure to save us seats, which was very sweet. The hike from the road to the lookout was relatively quick and we took it easy since neither of us felt too perfect. It was nice to be outside, especially when it started warming up (another 6am start). However, you really couldn´t see too much of the waterfall. It started at the level you were at and dropped below where you couldn´t see. So we crawled up on our bellies at least take a look. It was pretty but nothing is ever as nice when you feel lousy. Eventually, we had to slowly make our way back to the road to be sure we wouldn´t miss the bus, which wouldn´t end up being a problem since it was more than half an hour late. We waited and talked with the same family. There were two girls (daughter and her friend) who had just graduated with degrees in tourism and wanted to come to the area to help the community improve its tourism. We are both very hesitant about the idea. From what we saw at Colca, the people were very subdued and didn´t seem to enjoy the tourism presence - plus the economic gain wasn´t spread equally among the people. We just really hope Cotahuasi won´t come to be tainted in the same way. The landscape is just so beautiful (in a lot of ways it reminded me of the desert at home) and the people are so warm and welcoming. I hope they´re able to hold onto that.
When we got on the bus, we saw our first white person (we´d see a few more when we got back). We sat in the front of the bus for a bit, which felt like a rollercoaster on this year old dirt road, but both ended up standing when the bus filled with old ladies and kids. We talked to the old white guy when we got off who turned out to be a carpenter from Telluride living off of ¨social insecurity¨ in the area for nearly four years since he couldn´t afford to live at home anymore. He was a really nice, interesting guy. He was in town to buy a burro for his third trek through the canyon. I went to eat lunch on my own since Chris was too sick - felt a little uncomfortable after the fact realizing I´d had all types of seafood while in a canyon in the middle of the country. Then we went back to the hostel where they were guarding our things to sit in the courtyard. We understand its a business but we were both still pissed that the whole place was empty and they wouldn´t let us back in the room for Chris to lay down (we even told them he was sick!). So we spent hours waiting and then hopped on another 4pm bus to go back to Arequipa.
Chris under a boulder next to the river leading into the waterfall Sipia
Chris managed to sleep a little more on this one, which he really needed. I got caught up listening to Blink the audiobook. It was really interesting and I so rarely partake in non-fiction that it was really nice. I was awake when we went over the highest pass in the country (18k?). It was dark but there was enough light I could see the snow caps and it was really impressive. When we stopped for a bathroom break in the next city, I was just tired and felt like I was dreading having to get up and speak Spanish and be pushed around again. It was a hassle getting off the bus and then I got to the bathroom (with a desperately full bladder of course) and got butted in front of by an old woman just as I started to go into the stall. I was practically screaming Excuse me! at her. I should have just grabbed the door and not let her in. The whole night was just too much and I really wanted to just shove her out of the way. I was really mad and ended up being really homesick.
We got back into Arequipa and again ended up being ridiculously early. So, being under the impression that I´d had a conversation with the hostel owner that we could come at 5 or 6 and not pay an extra day, we waited at the terminal for nearly an hour and a half. It was cold and we were tired. Turns out when we got in, they made us pay for half a day anyway so we waited for nothing. Oh well. It was still better than paying a full day and we needed the sleep. After resting, we went for the second time to the touristy side of town for a sake lunch of falafel (and really deliciously big papaya juices). That night Chris got worse. We watched About A Boy in English, which helped since we were both feeling a little homesick. That night we watched The Incredibles in Spanish, which was fine since we both know it so well being the cartoon addicts we are. That night the trash truck came around playing Under The Sea from The Little Mermaid. I loved it.
The next day, last Sunday, Chris stayed in bed all day. I went out for medicines and found myself a touristy spot for a great fruit smoothie (didn´t realize how much I´d been missing them). I went out to call my Mom and may have actually started this blog on that day. Chris watched Austin Powers 3 and we found House and a few other movies to occupy our time. Our new room faced a noisy street, which made it harder to rest too. The staff was all very helpful and concerned. Julio, knowing we´re med students, asked if we should get him a doctor. He was very straight faced until I glared at him and he started cracking up. I explained how we´d been instructed in the intricacies of diarrhea when we were in Huancayo and how it was vaguely insulting. He asked again, was I sure? And then started laughing.
We ended up staying another day for Chris to recover (I wasn´t feeling perfect either). We left Tuesday afternoon for Puno and bought our first ¨bus cama¨ seats in the really comfortable leather chairs on the bottom of the bus. We started watching 2012 but it went out midway through, which is really unfortunate since I´d never sit through the rest of it again. We drove through a national reserve park and we sat their watching the herds of sheep and animals of the llama family (vicuñas) underneath the mountains and along the little lakes. We got into Puno late and checked into the hostel Chris stayed in when he and Stefan were here last after dealing with being harrassed by tourism companies a little more than we were expecting at the terminal. The hostel was really nice and breakfast - tea, yogurt, dry cereal (it´s always sugar smacks stuff), and chocolate cake! - was included. We went out for dinner, which was super touristy everywhere we looked (and thus expensive). We finally settled on a slightly cheaper place and shared a veggie pizza (with onions, carrots, peas, and green beans - it was actually really good) and a veggie lasagna with a big jarra of lemonade. We got up the next morning, Wednesday, and left our big bags with the hostel after breakfast and left for the docks to go to the island Taquile. As always, quite early.
Chris had done all this part before. Taquile was were he got really badly ill last time he was here (something horrid enough it could have been Typhoid). So he wanted to come back and see a little more than the inside of a bathroom stall. We paid to go on a collectivo boat (the money goes to the islanders and not the tourist companies). Lake Titicaca was very calm - thank goodness. And I didn´t feel sick at all. We stopped briefly on the reed islands - Uros - and received a quick brief on how they build the islands out of reeds. While there, one of the few native women on the boat (mostly tourists and big backpacks), Alicia, approached us and offered us a place to stay for the night. We were set. We sat on top of the boat until I got too cold and went inside the boat and took a nap. We got to the island around noon? Most of the other people from our boat were only staying the afternoon and would leave on the next boat across the island in a few hours, which is a shame.
We hiked up to the town center with all of our things (big bag each and a heavy bag of food). Alicia told us she had to go look for more people and would meet us there in half an hour. When we reached the top after a good bit of hiking, we were approached by the self-proclaimed boss of the hostels who told us she couldn´t offer us a place. We said we were sorry but we had a deal with her so we needed to wait for her. A few minutes later the man who had been with him came back and told us he was Alicia´s husband (Alicia was quite young) and we should come with him. We weren´t sure but agreed we´d come back to look for her. So we went with him and I asked him questions about how many rooms and costs that I´d already heard from her and nothing he said was matching up. After putting our things down, Chris waited with our things and I went back to the square to wait for Alicia. They were having a political rally for a mayoral candidate and since they were doing a bit of buying the vote (nothing like handing out bread and Coke for politics), it was really crowded both with locals and tourists. I waited and she never showed up. So I went back and Chris and I came back up together. We were approached by the hostel owner again, Bernardo, who I asked if he´d seen his wife. Oh no, she´s not my wife. She´s my cousin. She was already here but she lives very far so you´ll just stay with me. He saw me starting to turn red I´m sure and said it was ok. I told him, No, it´s not okay, you just lied to us. He was smiling and laughing. I wanted to castrate the bastard. So I had to walk away. Poor Chris was probably scared. I was steaming. Luckily, Chris recognized our boat´s captain and we went to ask him for help and explain the situation. He initially tried to show us to Bernando but I immediately said No! That´s the liar. So he found us someone else. We went to retrieve our things and when we came back there was Alicia. But now the other woman, who had seemed very uninterested and unwelcoming, wanted us to come with her. Here the ¨boss¨ came back and there was a lot of yelling in Quechua (the main and first language on the island). But we insisted we were going with Alicia. So after all of that, we did.
Alicia lived on the other side of the island, which was a good long walk since nothing on the island is flat and it´s always a lot of up and down. They had several rooms and she lived with her mother, younger 13-year-old sister, and then her older brother would come to help, but lived with his wife and two children further away (their father - a previous island leader - had died 10 years earlier). Two french girls from our boat stayed there and eventually the brother, Sylvano, showed up with two Americans, a social worker for a school in the Bronx and a mechanic for the Stone brewing company. Alicia made us omelettes for lunch and then we set off to explore. We intended to go to the so-called little beach but made it to the big beach on the end of the island. It was a real honest to goodness beach and nearly deserted. We sat and enjoyed the view for a few minutes but we quickly lost sun and had to start the steep hike up the island. The sunset was beautiful on the lake and we made it back right around dusk. We ate our own dinner (PB&Js of course) and watched the moon come up.
Sunset and a fire on the shore seen from Taquile
Alicia working at the loom
Then, still being early, we left for wandering the island. We went up to see the first set of ruins, then we hiked to the second set and also to the Mirador (look out point for the whole island). There we encountered more ruins but the only ones we´d seen which included a do not enter sign. It was lovely to saw we´d seen the entirety of the island. We returned to the town center, which was now almost solely populated by tourists. We went to the island co-op where they sell everyone´s art (there are around 400 artesans in the community of about 2,000). We were happy to have bought from the family since they´d been so kind, inviting, and engaging with us. Unfortunately, the islanders working at the co-op were so used to rude and assuming tourists that they seemed a little irritated at our presence. We then sat and watched the people in the plaza for a while. We saw far too many tourists getting into childrens faces with their cameras - literally just a few feet away. At one point, I even saw a few man clapping at a child to get her attention for a picture. She´s a little girl, not a dog! I was so inflamed. We did hear much more English-speaking tourists on the island than we had previously on the Gringo Trail. We sat and watched two little girls playing with balloons. They would smile at us and try to play with us too. I took a few pictures as you can see but I try to at least be a little more discrete about it. We met two dental workers from the health post examining children´s teeth in the square.
At the Taquile Mirador
Playing with balloons
Watching a little girl playing with balloons
Once most of the tourist groups had cleared out, we went to the communal restaurant on the edge of the square for lunch. Half the profits go to the whole community and the other half is for whichever of the five rotating families is running it that week. We had quinua soup and a really amazingly seasoned trout. The family would come out to talk with us. Everyone was very friendly. They told us they hadn´t been selling as many plates as we would have thought. It was so sad to see the big tour groups going to private restaurants instead of supporting the island.
Fish on a fish plate
We went back to the hostel to rest and read. Then we realized we were late for going out to see the sunset at one of the famous arches leading down to the docks, so we hauled ass. It was chilly and we moved very quickly. But despite our efforts, the sun was already down when we got there. But we did get a beautiful view of the lake and a richly colored sky. We went back and had dinner from the family with the two new tourists staying there (from England and Holland). The mother sat with us. She is just learning Spanish so it was great for her and Chris to talk. It was so sweet for her to be there with us but we were speaking a great deal in English since it was easier for the Dutch man. I would occasionally try to include her but we´d learned before she was very open to conversing with us but didn´t initiate convsation a great deal. With Chris´ previous experience of everyone being so shy and closed off, we really wanted to encourage and show how much we appreciated her openness and attentiveness. The previous day, we´d been talking about the political rally and she told us how the many concern for the people was getting a water pump in place. It seems like an easy enough thing but for washing, flushing toilets, cooking, and the like, the people have to carry up buckets of water from the lake everyday. On the one hand, I understand the need and very much hope they get a water pump but also, I have to say that Taquileños were probably the most fit and healthy people as a whole that we´d met in Peru. I´m sure in large part that´s due to their water trips since it´s such a strenuous hike. That´s a hard balance to maintain but I hope that with improvement in technology on the island that they don´t lose their health. They only have curanderos and visiting doctors on the island. But things are advancing, when Chris was first there, they were talking about buying a solar panel for every house to run a light bulb. Now every house has a solar panel. And the pathways are more paved and cobblestoned than what Chris remembers. We´ll see what happens.
Sunset under the arch
And yes, you have to put up with it because we like the picture
The next morning, Chris talked me into the breakfast and we had the closest to real pancakes we´ve found here, which was wonderful. Sylvano sat and talked with us a while too. He told us he may be going on a trip as a musician to the United States (New Mexico and Colorado) later in the year. We talked with him about it a lot and tried to prepare him a little. We both think it will be an enormous culture shock for someone who´s never even been on a plane but that he will come back with an enormous appreciation for his home. Alicia came in and out but never sat. She was always so sweet but it took me a while to realize her smiles and speaking mostly in Quechua was just shyness. Her mother as I´ve already said was a bit more open. She gave Chris a big hug when he told her we wanted to stay another night. Alicia did give me a hug too though when I gave her the somewhat fresh fruit we´d brought as the customary gift for your island host family. It was a nice morning and then we both fell sick again. Luckily, we´d already seen nearly everything we´d wanted to. Later we walked up to the plaza to peek at the co-op again and buy some more water. Otherwise, Friday morning we just stayed put until it was time to pack up and get moving. We moved slowly, both feeling sickly, up the island to cross to the other side for the boats. We went down the 800(?) stairs to the boats. They used to make people arrive and climb those but they had to stop because too many people were passing out. On the way down, we were approached by lots of little boys selling bracelets. Sylvano had explained to us that the children start with the bracelets in their artistry around 7 or 8 years old. Chris bought a bunch.
We made it on the collectivo boat just in time. It filled to capacity and being sick we needed to sit. This time we were stuck sitting in the bottom. There were only a few other tourists but mostly locals filling up the boat. There werea few cute little kids and a cute little girl came over to question and grab at my crackers that were my lunch. Mom was a little passive and the rest of the women on the boat mostly took care of her. We got in late and went back to the hostel. Chris felt miserable and I was a little better so we just rested. Most importantly, we had our first shower (and a hot one at that) in some days. It was wonderful to feel clean again.
The next morning (yesterday) we had that same delicious breakfast and the woman was kind enough to let Chris and I use the hot water for tea to make ourselves oatmeal as well. Chris had packed a tool of metal coils for heating water (sorry that´s a terribly description) but it appears to have gotten fried but the voltage down here, even though it was supposed to work everywhere. We went out and found that most of the things we wanted to do in town were closed - including the Coca museam (La hoja de coca no es cocaina). We looked briefly at the co-op in town and walked the length of the Saturday market (we found one of the nationally used zip up bags with Buzz Lightyear on it, so that was a plus). And then I ended up getting sick(er). Previously, I think I´ve really only had single episodes but this time I´ve been worse. Today I´m feeling a bit better. Oh well. We went to the same bakery/cafe three times yesterday for food because we couldn´t figure out anywhere else that sounded appetizing. But I had my first chicken empanada because it felt safe enough and we had veggie quiche, which Chris loved. This morning the breakfast was different and included meaty stuff I wouldn´t eat so it was more oatmeal than anything. We packed up and are about to head off into Bolivia this afternoon. If all goes well we´ll be in Copacabana tonight and on the Isla del Sol (the legendary birthplace of the first Inca) tomorrow.
Think that´ll about cover it for now. Here´s hoping you are all happy, healthy, and well.
With love and recovering bellies,
Sara and Chris
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