Athough the word gastronomy I think sounds a little gross, it is the art and science of eating good food and is a very beautiful thing. Peru has some of the best food in the whole world and so my last days here I stalked my stomach with loads of good ceviche, alpaca meat, fish, and bowls of soups.
Before I left for my travels I thought I was going to be the author of my first ever book called ¨The Best Places to Run on the South America´s Gringo Trac¨. I promised my sister in Cuba a bunch of times that I was going to wake up and go run. However, I have had to put my dreams for this book on hold becuase I have become quite lazy with my running. In fact I have only run once for 20 minutes on the beach (that was yesterday). In the beginning I was mad at myself for not getting my heart rate up everyday, but I have come to the conclusion that feeling bad for myself is not worth it. Instead I have embraced the art and science of food:gastronomy. I am a really professional eater now.
While travelling it is really important for me to try all the amazing new foods. Everything from the top of the line ceviche restaurants to the greasy and delicious street food. Peru loves to put french fries on every plate and I love Peru for that.
Eating cheap really carbo loads you up so I have to balance it out with a good mango or pineapple juice or something. No where in the world can you just pick up any mango anywhere and have it be the juiciest and most delicious thing ever.
I tried the guinea pig that is so famous in Peru and it sucks. Not really sure why they eat it. There are way too many little bones and barely any meat. It is like eatying squirrel or something. not good. but alpaca is delicious.
I spent only one night and two days on the beach in Mancora. Although a nice place to get tan or sunburnt, I could not stay any longer. It is where every Peruvian family goes during this time of year to stand around in the surf and cover the beach with umbrellas and loud reggaeton music. I was also woken up in the middle of the night by a one night drunken stand of an australian and argentinian chick having sex in my room. so uncomfortable. i woke up early to go on a run and sweat that gross night out and found the guy totally naked without any covers on. found the condom in the trashcan; at least they were practicing safe sex!
made it to northern ecuador today after 3 bus rides. on one of them i was told by the ecuadorian next to me that this was his first converstation ever with a gringa. what an honor. i am in this place called banos where all you do is crazy ecotourism things. going repelling down waterfalls and bridge jumping tomorrow!! need to get my adreneline up. hopefully i wont throw up all the loving gastronomical food i have eaten this last month in peru.
so adios peru and hola ecuador!
miércoles, 23 de febrero de 2011
the pops comes to visit
I would first like to start off by saying that I have the best parents in the entire world. Now granted I have never experienced having any other parents, I would say that I am very lucky and it could be a hell of a lot worse. I really would not have been able to travel for as long as I am and alone if it wasnt for the trust and love )and somewhat financial help) of my parents. Due to skype, blogs, and cell phones, my parents have stayed very close with me throughout my journey. Whenever I am lonely, I just think of how close they really are and that I am not alone. In fact, I think I have talked more with my sister on skype these months then I talk to her when I am home. Travelling has also provided a great excuse for my parents to travel and come visit me. So this last week I was blessed by the presence of my old man )although he still acts more like a 20 year old).
Throughout the whole week my dad and I kept using the phrase, ¨This is the best ___ever.¨ We ate the ¨best chocolate mouse ever¨, we went to the ¨best restaurant ever¨, we stayed at the ¨best hotel we have ever stayed at¨, we drank the¨best pisco sours¨, we had the ¨best pillows, that felt like clouds, ever¨, toured aroound the ¨best monastary we have ever been in¨, ate the ¨best ceviche ever¨, and the ¨best (and also the first) alpaca meat ever.¨
After staying in hostels with rooms of up to 18 beds, communal bathrooms with rough toilet paper, and annoying travellers turning on the light at 4am in the morning, I felt like royalty this week with my dad. And when my dad travels he does not cuaght himself short. He figures this will be his only time with his daughter in Peru and so we must eat at the best of the best and stay at the best of the best. Once we spent like an hour trying to find this off the beaten track cheviche and fish restaurant in the middle of nowhere in Lima that some friend had recomended to him and he insisted we find. After the fun adventure trying to find the place, it was totally worth it and we ate the most amazing ceviche and fried fish ever. This place was like dimsum in SF, where families go and eat for sunday brunch.
We spent a few days exploring the streets of Arequipa with a really short tour guide named Norma, touring a randomly interesting monastary where now only 21 nuns live, seeing an organ in a church with 1,180 pipes, and eating among locals a giant bowl of soup for $3 (where I think I got food poisoning and dad fell in love with the beautiful younger lady serving the soup). Valentines day was spent eating at this amazing restaurant called Zigzags over their famous plater of 4 different kinds of meats. My dad was so thrilled by this place he wrote his first comment on tripadvisor recommending the place. He was really proud of his blurb and I think he told everyone we met about it.
After Arequipa, we drove 3 hours on this beautiful road to Colca Canyon and passed by snow covered mountains and fields full of vicunas (which are the less common and softer cousins of the alpacas). cool. When I win the lottery I have decided that I am only going to only wear realyl soft llama, alpaca, and vicuna clothing. For now, I just bought my sister a few soft items, my mom this beautiful baby alpaca sweater taht I want to steal, and a mini sweater and gloves for my boyfriend´s sisters new baby.
The place we stayed at in Colca Canyon was out of control the most amazing and beautiful place I have ever in my life of 23 years have ever set foot in. Heated floors, our own outdoor and indoor jacuzzi, an outdoor and indoor shower, pillows made of clouds, a hot water bottle at night placed on our beds, slippers, bathrobes, an ipod player, a huge movie selection, giant umbrellas that protected you from every raindrop, the biggest garden full of every veggie and fruit you could imagine, and a restuarant with fabulous rosemary bread and croissonts. I could have stayed there for ever just eating bread, strolling around the grounds, and watching movies. A llama pulling a cart even carried our bags down to our room for us.
Dad and I became professional equestrians as well. The Harrison family is not one for riding horses, but I think I might have a future in riding. With the right gear I looked pretty darn good up on that horse. Our first riding experience was on mules coming up a 3000 foot mountain we had just walked down and were too lazy to walk up. Despite the fact that these mules seemed to walk as close to the cliffs edge as humanly possible, I was not that scared and got into the whole motion of the ride. The next morning we decided to push ourselves even more and went on a horseback ride for an hour around the valley. Granted we did go on horses that are physically incapable of running, I was pretty proud of ourselvs and think we looked pretty professional up there. It might look easy just sitting there, but our leg muscles were activated the whole time and for the next like 3 days after our calves were sooo sore.
Dad overprescribed me anti diarrhea medicine caused I apparently ate something bad or was unfamiliar with the bacteria he brought over from the US. So then I was constipated for 4 days after. Advice: never take 4 anti diarrhea pills in a whole day. It really clogs you up.
We saw a male andian condor. they are the biggest birds in the world with a wing span of 3 meters. After 5 minutes of it sitting on the cliff side so dumb ass tourist made a loud noise and it flew away.
The hotel also gave dad and me free pisco sour lessons and a cooking lesson on how to make quinoa risotto. The pisco sour lessons were more fun since we got kinda tipsy with the barman Walter. But then since I had no food in my stomach I felt really gross and then next day dad had a mild hangover. Pisco Sours are super strong with only a little lemon, sugar, and egg whites flavoring the 3 ounces of 45% alcohol.
I lost in a game of chess to my pops and got mad. Apparently chess club in 3rd grade did not help much.
After lots of relaxing time reading and hiking around the gorgeous trails in the canyon, dad and I flew to Lima where he had to take a flight home. Guess some of us have to work. I was really overwhelmed by the big city of Lima. I forgot what big cities with people everywhere felt like. We stumbled upon this really ugly beach that was full of around 10,000 people. From up above all you could see were these little ant like people standing in the water (people from latin america realy like to just stand in the water at beaches) and thousands of umbrellas. I dont think I even saw what the sand looked like there were so many people. one third of perus population lives in lima. Giant.
It was sad saying goodbye to my daddy. I was getting used to the ease and comfort of travelling with a familiar face and having him pay for everything. Besides all the resupply items of soft toilet paper from home and more toothpaste, it was so great to have travelled with my dad. The 18 hour bus ride to the coast of northern peru on my own was a little sad, but i know I will quickly readjust to the solo traveller mentality.
Till next time.
Throughout the whole week my dad and I kept using the phrase, ¨This is the best ___ever.¨ We ate the ¨best chocolate mouse ever¨, we went to the ¨best restaurant ever¨, we stayed at the ¨best hotel we have ever stayed at¨, we drank the¨best pisco sours¨, we had the ¨best pillows, that felt like clouds, ever¨, toured aroound the ¨best monastary we have ever been in¨, ate the ¨best ceviche ever¨, and the ¨best (and also the first) alpaca meat ever.¨
After staying in hostels with rooms of up to 18 beds, communal bathrooms with rough toilet paper, and annoying travellers turning on the light at 4am in the morning, I felt like royalty this week with my dad. And when my dad travels he does not cuaght himself short. He figures this will be his only time with his daughter in Peru and so we must eat at the best of the best and stay at the best of the best. Once we spent like an hour trying to find this off the beaten track cheviche and fish restaurant in the middle of nowhere in Lima that some friend had recomended to him and he insisted we find. After the fun adventure trying to find the place, it was totally worth it and we ate the most amazing ceviche and fried fish ever. This place was like dimsum in SF, where families go and eat for sunday brunch.
We spent a few days exploring the streets of Arequipa with a really short tour guide named Norma, touring a randomly interesting monastary where now only 21 nuns live, seeing an organ in a church with 1,180 pipes, and eating among locals a giant bowl of soup for $3 (where I think I got food poisoning and dad fell in love with the beautiful younger lady serving the soup). Valentines day was spent eating at this amazing restaurant called Zigzags over their famous plater of 4 different kinds of meats. My dad was so thrilled by this place he wrote his first comment on tripadvisor recommending the place. He was really proud of his blurb and I think he told everyone we met about it.
After Arequipa, we drove 3 hours on this beautiful road to Colca Canyon and passed by snow covered mountains and fields full of vicunas (which are the less common and softer cousins of the alpacas). cool. When I win the lottery I have decided that I am only going to only wear realyl soft llama, alpaca, and vicuna clothing. For now, I just bought my sister a few soft items, my mom this beautiful baby alpaca sweater taht I want to steal, and a mini sweater and gloves for my boyfriend´s sisters new baby.
The place we stayed at in Colca Canyon was out of control the most amazing and beautiful place I have ever in my life of 23 years have ever set foot in. Heated floors, our own outdoor and indoor jacuzzi, an outdoor and indoor shower, pillows made of clouds, a hot water bottle at night placed on our beds, slippers, bathrobes, an ipod player, a huge movie selection, giant umbrellas that protected you from every raindrop, the biggest garden full of every veggie and fruit you could imagine, and a restuarant with fabulous rosemary bread and croissonts. I could have stayed there for ever just eating bread, strolling around the grounds, and watching movies. A llama pulling a cart even carried our bags down to our room for us.
Dad and I became professional equestrians as well. The Harrison family is not one for riding horses, but I think I might have a future in riding. With the right gear I looked pretty darn good up on that horse. Our first riding experience was on mules coming up a 3000 foot mountain we had just walked down and were too lazy to walk up. Despite the fact that these mules seemed to walk as close to the cliffs edge as humanly possible, I was not that scared and got into the whole motion of the ride. The next morning we decided to push ourselves even more and went on a horseback ride for an hour around the valley. Granted we did go on horses that are physically incapable of running, I was pretty proud of ourselvs and think we looked pretty professional up there. It might look easy just sitting there, but our leg muscles were activated the whole time and for the next like 3 days after our calves were sooo sore.
Dad overprescribed me anti diarrhea medicine caused I apparently ate something bad or was unfamiliar with the bacteria he brought over from the US. So then I was constipated for 4 days after. Advice: never take 4 anti diarrhea pills in a whole day. It really clogs you up.
We saw a male andian condor. they are the biggest birds in the world with a wing span of 3 meters. After 5 minutes of it sitting on the cliff side so dumb ass tourist made a loud noise and it flew away.
The hotel also gave dad and me free pisco sour lessons and a cooking lesson on how to make quinoa risotto. The pisco sour lessons were more fun since we got kinda tipsy with the barman Walter. But then since I had no food in my stomach I felt really gross and then next day dad had a mild hangover. Pisco Sours are super strong with only a little lemon, sugar, and egg whites flavoring the 3 ounces of 45% alcohol.
I lost in a game of chess to my pops and got mad. Apparently chess club in 3rd grade did not help much.
After lots of relaxing time reading and hiking around the gorgeous trails in the canyon, dad and I flew to Lima where he had to take a flight home. Guess some of us have to work. I was really overwhelmed by the big city of Lima. I forgot what big cities with people everywhere felt like. We stumbled upon this really ugly beach that was full of around 10,000 people. From up above all you could see were these little ant like people standing in the water (people from latin america realy like to just stand in the water at beaches) and thousands of umbrellas. I dont think I even saw what the sand looked like there were so many people. one third of perus population lives in lima. Giant.
It was sad saying goodbye to my daddy. I was getting used to the ease and comfort of travelling with a familiar face and having him pay for everything. Besides all the resupply items of soft toilet paper from home and more toothpaste, it was so great to have travelled with my dad. The 18 hour bus ride to the coast of northern peru on my own was a little sad, but i know I will quickly readjust to the solo traveller mentality.
Till next time.
sábado, 12 de febrero de 2011
Sand gets everywhere!!
Sand is like glitter. It is hard to resist touching and playing in it, gets everywhere, and never ever seems to come off even after a couple of showers.
After an 18 hour bus ride (which feels like nothing to me now), I got to Huacachina, which is a small town near Ica surrounded by huge sand dunes. I have never seen so much sand before in my life. And the softest sand ever too. I was only planning to stay one or two nights there, but ended up staying 4 days cuase I just couldnt resist the sand. It was the first time too in a month and halfish that I felt the heat. I got to walk around in my bathing suit all day long, swim in my hostel pool, relax, and play in the sand.
The thing to do there is to go sand boarding, so I rented a board one day with some other travelers i met and we climbed up the huge dunes and zoomed down the hill on our stomachs and butts. Such a rush. Sand boarding is apparently a profossional sport or something. Like snow boarding but on sand. However, I am definetly not professional and see no career in my future in this sport. It was more fun for me to climb up the dunes (really good calf work out), look at the sunset and contemplate life and then roll or run down the slopes.
I met this one Israeli girl (there are tons of Israelis in this town) that became a walking legend in Huacachina. She was really proud to tell us all her story about how two weeks ago she almost died sand boarding. Pretty crazy story actually. She was sand boarding with her friends and was going too fast on her stomach. I am not really sure why she did not just roll off her board to stop, but she apperently did not see that there was a hostel right below her and crashed straight into it! She lost consiousness for two hours, bruised her enter body and still can not walk right, and cut open her head. The security cameras were on and there is live footage of her crashing right in between a tree and the ledge of the pool. Super lucky she survived. Apparently there have been deaths of tourists there.
Although she had such a truamatic experience, It seemed to work out for her benefit in the end. The hot bar tender at our hostel came to her rescue and "nursed" her back to health. She had decided to stay an extra week there to recover/hook up with him before her flight home to Israel. She seemed pretty pleased to be the talk of the town. And although she could barely walk, we all went to this salsa club in the city together and got our dance on.
I had met this other guy from Isreal in Huacachina,named Avi, who went with us to the salsa club. He was one of those super honest stereotypical Israelis that thought he knew everything. He was a punkish dj with side bangs who definelty had no idea how to salsa and was pretty uncomfortable among all the peruvians in the club. But we hung out with each other alot and had loads of fun. There as been a suddle shift now between seeing lots of Argentinians to Israelis. Israelis come in waves and I think it is about to crash into South America.
I have loved every place that I have been and have decided that I could also live in Huacachina for a while and just chill out, play in the sand all day, and build up my calf muscles by hiking up the dunes. After running down the sand dune for the last time i forced myself to leave and headed on my way to Arequipa. I am making a slight detour down south becuase my pops is coming to visit me!! I cant wait to see him. It will be a nice break from the shit hostel pillows and greasy cheap street food. My dad refuses to stay in hostels, so 5 star hotels it is and ceviche every day! He is also resupplying me with good netrogena sunscreen and soft toilet paper! I saw my first starbucks today in arequipa and got a soy latte. Side note: i have been randomly eating things with cheese and milk products in it, and have been feeling okay. maybe i am slowly becoming un-lactarded!
After an 18 hour bus ride (which feels like nothing to me now), I got to Huacachina, which is a small town near Ica surrounded by huge sand dunes. I have never seen so much sand before in my life. And the softest sand ever too. I was only planning to stay one or two nights there, but ended up staying 4 days cuase I just couldnt resist the sand. It was the first time too in a month and halfish that I felt the heat. I got to walk around in my bathing suit all day long, swim in my hostel pool, relax, and play in the sand.
The thing to do there is to go sand boarding, so I rented a board one day with some other travelers i met and we climbed up the huge dunes and zoomed down the hill on our stomachs and butts. Such a rush. Sand boarding is apparently a profossional sport or something. Like snow boarding but on sand. However, I am definetly not professional and see no career in my future in this sport. It was more fun for me to climb up the dunes (really good calf work out), look at the sunset and contemplate life and then roll or run down the slopes.
I met this one Israeli girl (there are tons of Israelis in this town) that became a walking legend in Huacachina. She was really proud to tell us all her story about how two weeks ago she almost died sand boarding. Pretty crazy story actually. She was sand boarding with her friends and was going too fast on her stomach. I am not really sure why she did not just roll off her board to stop, but she apperently did not see that there was a hostel right below her and crashed straight into it! She lost consiousness for two hours, bruised her enter body and still can not walk right, and cut open her head. The security cameras were on and there is live footage of her crashing right in between a tree and the ledge of the pool. Super lucky she survived. Apparently there have been deaths of tourists there.
Although she had such a truamatic experience, It seemed to work out for her benefit in the end. The hot bar tender at our hostel came to her rescue and "nursed" her back to health. She had decided to stay an extra week there to recover/hook up with him before her flight home to Israel. She seemed pretty pleased to be the talk of the town. And although she could barely walk, we all went to this salsa club in the city together and got our dance on.
I had met this other guy from Isreal in Huacachina,named Avi, who went with us to the salsa club. He was one of those super honest stereotypical Israelis that thought he knew everything. He was a punkish dj with side bangs who definelty had no idea how to salsa and was pretty uncomfortable among all the peruvians in the club. But we hung out with each other alot and had loads of fun. There as been a suddle shift now between seeing lots of Argentinians to Israelis. Israelis come in waves and I think it is about to crash into South America.
I have loved every place that I have been and have decided that I could also live in Huacachina for a while and just chill out, play in the sand all day, and build up my calf muscles by hiking up the dunes. After running down the sand dune for the last time i forced myself to leave and headed on my way to Arequipa. I am making a slight detour down south becuase my pops is coming to visit me!! I cant wait to see him. It will be a nice break from the shit hostel pillows and greasy cheap street food. My dad refuses to stay in hostels, so 5 star hotels it is and ceviche every day! He is also resupplying me with good netrogena sunscreen and soft toilet paper! I saw my first starbucks today in arequipa and got a soy latte. Side note: i have been randomly eating things with cheese and milk products in it, and have been feeling okay. maybe i am slowly becoming un-lactarded!
professional yahtzee players and french mafia
My last couple of days in Cusco were pretty exciting. I decided that I could definetly live in Cusco for an extended period of time, work in a bar in a hostel, eat ovepriced eggs and bacon breakfest at Jacks Cafe, learn to play the didgeridoo at the local hippie hang out spot, and wear llama and alpaca clothing from head-to-toe. I would then make friends with the guards at Machupichu so I could go in at night and sleep under the stars in an Incan temple or something. That would be the life.
I have titled this entry after these two jerks that I met in my hostel room. I met these two french guys my first morning staying at Wild Rover hostel (which offers a good party every night with the most unorganized hour of power and good eighties tunes). Not realizing that one of the french guys was a chronic lier, I believed them when they told me that they were involved in the french mafia, owed money to the Peruvian mafia, and had a gun and knife in their backpacks. I figured that being nice, but maintaining my distance was the best way to handle the situation. It turned out that they had already been kicked out of the other well known party hostel in Cusco because of their knife, which in reality was more like a dagger(they claimed they bought it as a souveniour in the jungle for protection from the mafia on the streets of Peru).
The first night I had with them in the hostel room they broke all three of the hostel rules and ate, drank vodka and mango juice, and smoked like a pack of cigerettes making all my clothes smell horrible. Once they were sufficiently drunk they moved their party to the bar in the hostel, as well as their dagger. They claimed afterward that they had no idea how their dagger ended up in the bar at that some Australian must have found it under thier mattress bed and brought it in. Likely story. Whatever the case, a dagger in a bar with drunk people is not such a good idea. The next day this super nice chick from Canada had a photo of the knife held up to her neck. Also not a good idea. Later in the night (more like the wee hours of the morning), they asked me if I had money to give them because they needed to pay off the mafia. Um, no. Over a good vegetarian meal for breakfest at this awesome place called El Encuentro, we pieced together the night and came to the conclusion that these french dudes were chronic liers and major sketch balls. Luckily they had left for Machupichu that morning and we would get a break from them until they came back.
A couple of days later when they came back (after claiming that their guide left them alone and they had to walk in the dark by themselves for hours to aguas calientes),they instanetly got thier vodka confiscated and were told that the police were en route to the hostel to pick them up. The 27 year old super chilled out Irish hostel owner somehow had found their dagger and came into our room right as they both stepped out of the shower and were half naked. He kindly kicked them out recomending that the best thing to do would be to leave cusco immediatly. After trying to deny their innocence for a while, which didnt work so well, they finally left. I randomly ran into them on the street an hour later as they were trying to find another hostel far away from the center. I calmly told them that maybe it is not such a good idea to have such a big dagger when traveling and that bringing it into a bar when people are drunk is also not such a smart thing and that telling people you have a gun and are part of the french mafia is also not very smart. I was glad to never see them again!
Besides this minor encounter with sketchy french men, Cusco felt super safe and was really fun. Cusco is loaded with great plazas to sit in, good restaurants, lots of markets to shop in, and an amazing nightlife with an array of chilled out reggae scenes and loud discotecas. It really trapped me in and after spending around 2 weeks there i decided it was time to move on with my travels. So on my way I went...
I have titled this entry after these two jerks that I met in my hostel room. I met these two french guys my first morning staying at Wild Rover hostel (which offers a good party every night with the most unorganized hour of power and good eighties tunes). Not realizing that one of the french guys was a chronic lier, I believed them when they told me that they were involved in the french mafia, owed money to the Peruvian mafia, and had a gun and knife in their backpacks. I figured that being nice, but maintaining my distance was the best way to handle the situation. It turned out that they had already been kicked out of the other well known party hostel in Cusco because of their knife, which in reality was more like a dagger(they claimed they bought it as a souveniour in the jungle for protection from the mafia on the streets of Peru).
The first night I had with them in the hostel room they broke all three of the hostel rules and ate, drank vodka and mango juice, and smoked like a pack of cigerettes making all my clothes smell horrible. Once they were sufficiently drunk they moved their party to the bar in the hostel, as well as their dagger. They claimed afterward that they had no idea how their dagger ended up in the bar at that some Australian must have found it under thier mattress bed and brought it in. Likely story. Whatever the case, a dagger in a bar with drunk people is not such a good idea. The next day this super nice chick from Canada had a photo of the knife held up to her neck. Also not a good idea. Later in the night (more like the wee hours of the morning), they asked me if I had money to give them because they needed to pay off the mafia. Um, no. Over a good vegetarian meal for breakfest at this awesome place called El Encuentro, we pieced together the night and came to the conclusion that these french dudes were chronic liers and major sketch balls. Luckily they had left for Machupichu that morning and we would get a break from them until they came back.
A couple of days later when they came back (after claiming that their guide left them alone and they had to walk in the dark by themselves for hours to aguas calientes),they instanetly got thier vodka confiscated and were told that the police were en route to the hostel to pick them up. The 27 year old super chilled out Irish hostel owner somehow had found their dagger and came into our room right as they both stepped out of the shower and were half naked. He kindly kicked them out recomending that the best thing to do would be to leave cusco immediatly. After trying to deny their innocence for a while, which didnt work so well, they finally left. I randomly ran into them on the street an hour later as they were trying to find another hostel far away from the center. I calmly told them that maybe it is not such a good idea to have such a big dagger when traveling and that bringing it into a bar when people are drunk is also not such a smart thing and that telling people you have a gun and are part of the french mafia is also not very smart. I was glad to never see them again!
Besides this minor encounter with sketchy french men, Cusco felt super safe and was really fun. Cusco is loaded with great plazas to sit in, good restaurants, lots of markets to shop in, and an amazing nightlife with an array of chilled out reggae scenes and loud discotecas. It really trapped me in and after spending around 2 weeks there i decided it was time to move on with my travels. So on my way I went...
viernes, 4 de febrero de 2011
You can sleep when you die
Now that I have had amble time to reflect and sleep from my journey to one of the 7th wonders of the world, I feel like I am able now to share it with the world wide web. My adventure to Macchupichu was out of control un-matchable experience. There are a couple of different options of how to arrive to the ruins, and I chose, hands down, the best option. Instead of going on the overpriced and overcrowded famous Inca trek, I took an alternate route called Salcantay Trek. Not only was it cheaper ($200 US), it was one more day, I barely saw any other travels, and it was not rerouted that week becuase of landslides. Despite the hail, snow, constant rain, avalanches lasting 10 minutes, mud up to our ankles, wet socks, near death experiences in landslides, and loads of mule shit, it was one of the top treks I have ever done. In fact I think that National Geographic rates this as one of the top 16 treks (which is a bizarre number) in the world.
Our group of 8 all got super close too. The first day we were already sharing dirty stories, most embarassing moments, and having deep beautiful moments looking up at the stars. There was a group of 4 Australian med students who are doing an elective in clinics in Cusco. Super chill group of people. There were two english dudes, one with a horrible pealing sunburn. and the last guy was this hilarious dude from ireland that laughed really spontaneously. good group.
Climbing up the first couple of days I got to the highest point I have ever been to in my life at 5,033 meters (around 15,000feet). The last couple of days were spent descending down through beatiful jungle and along the most raging river I have ever seen. We even had mules carrying the majority of our stuff with 2 cooks that would show up before we got there and already have popcorn and tea for us. Soup before every meal was served and we woke up every morning to coca tea in our tents. Besides the five star food we got, our guide was absolutely amazing. Juan Carlos was a young hot peruvian guide that enjoyed socializing with us around beer and cigars and educated us on the ancient Incan culture. He taught us that the word Macchupichu is originally pronounced slightly different in Quecha for "old mountain", but with the Spanish influence the pronouncation has been altered and now means "old dick" (macchu meaning old and pichu meaning dick). And Wuaynapichu (which is the famous peak that you climb in the macchupichu,means ("young dick"). So we all hiked 5 days to ancient dick and then climbed up the steep stairs on young dick. jeje.
After spending our last night in Aguas Calientes, which is a tourist town right at the base of the ruins, we woke up super early and hiked up the steep steps to get to the entrance to Macchupichu before all the old fart tourists showed up on the buses. I was the 8th person to be emmitted into Macchupichu and so was one of the 400 people they allow up Wuaynapichu. I spent the whole day wondering around these magnificent ruins in complete awe. Since we got in so early we got to experience the ruins without anyone there. So magical. As the people started pouring into the site, I was so grateful that I went during low season. I can not even imagine how crowded it would be during high season.
My group of 8 that I had hiked with all climbed up to Wuaynapichu together. And although it was raining at the time and some bitch lady had told us it was not worth the climb up, we made it to the top and took a naked photo that we had been planning on. It was an awesome photo with are white bare bums siluetted by the white clouds in the background. Unfortunetly, and completley understandably, this was not allowed in such a sacred place and the security guard made us erase our photo work. oh well.
The rest of the day I spent wondering in and out of the ruins. On my way up to the Sun Gates I had a very National Geographic Discovery Channel experience. Right after I was almost run over by like 10 llamas charging down this narrow path, I stumbled apone a llama giving birth!!!!!!! It was so amazing. Right before hand the father had committed suicide and fallen off the cliff to meet his death (I am convinced it was becuase having a child was just too much responsibility for him). For an hour I watched a baby llama being pushed out and welcomed into this world. It was so floppy and had placenta all around it. But once it was able to sit down and lift its head up on its own, I was granted the honor of preforming a baptism ceremony. I drank some boxed wine with some workers of Macchupichu and poured a little over the llamas head welcoming it into this world and thanking the patchimama (mother earth). With every death there is a birth. So beautiful and metaphorical.
On the way back to Cusco, the entire bus wanted to just pass out from having had such a long journey the last couple of days. However, we were blessed by having the biggest assholes in our bus ever. They were from California and I felt sooo embarrassed for my country. They were pissed drunk and screaming and yelling fuck shit gay nigger every other word. They pissed in bottles, one guy shat himself cause he thought it would be funny, they were so disrespectful to this 60 year old man sitting next to them, and when the driver and the women working on the bus asked them to be quiet they just told her to take her clothes off and get naked. We stopped the bus and were going to kick them off at the police station, but unfortunetly they convinced the driver that they deserved to get to cusco. Such jerks. or as the english say, such wankers.
So when i eventually got back to cusco the bed at wild rover hostel felt so good to climb into. The week had been just one adventure after another and i was reading to just sleep and do nothing for a couple of days. Cusco has trapped me in with its small streets, beautiful plazas, amazing food of all sorts, and great nightlife. I could really see myself staying here for a couple of months and working in a bar hostel restaurant teaching english or something. However, my plans are taking me north and there are more countries to see. I will come back some day for sure.
Our group of 8 all got super close too. The first day we were already sharing dirty stories, most embarassing moments, and having deep beautiful moments looking up at the stars. There was a group of 4 Australian med students who are doing an elective in clinics in Cusco. Super chill group of people. There were two english dudes, one with a horrible pealing sunburn. and the last guy was this hilarious dude from ireland that laughed really spontaneously. good group.
Climbing up the first couple of days I got to the highest point I have ever been to in my life at 5,033 meters (around 15,000feet). The last couple of days were spent descending down through beatiful jungle and along the most raging river I have ever seen. We even had mules carrying the majority of our stuff with 2 cooks that would show up before we got there and already have popcorn and tea for us. Soup before every meal was served and we woke up every morning to coca tea in our tents. Besides the five star food we got, our guide was absolutely amazing. Juan Carlos was a young hot peruvian guide that enjoyed socializing with us around beer and cigars and educated us on the ancient Incan culture. He taught us that the word Macchupichu is originally pronounced slightly different in Quecha for "old mountain", but with the Spanish influence the pronouncation has been altered and now means "old dick" (macchu meaning old and pichu meaning dick). And Wuaynapichu (which is the famous peak that you climb in the macchupichu,means ("young dick"). So we all hiked 5 days to ancient dick and then climbed up the steep stairs on young dick. jeje.
After spending our last night in Aguas Calientes, which is a tourist town right at the base of the ruins, we woke up super early and hiked up the steep steps to get to the entrance to Macchupichu before all the old fart tourists showed up on the buses. I was the 8th person to be emmitted into Macchupichu and so was one of the 400 people they allow up Wuaynapichu. I spent the whole day wondering around these magnificent ruins in complete awe. Since we got in so early we got to experience the ruins without anyone there. So magical. As the people started pouring into the site, I was so grateful that I went during low season. I can not even imagine how crowded it would be during high season.
My group of 8 that I had hiked with all climbed up to Wuaynapichu together. And although it was raining at the time and some bitch lady had told us it was not worth the climb up, we made it to the top and took a naked photo that we had been planning on. It was an awesome photo with are white bare bums siluetted by the white clouds in the background. Unfortunetly, and completley understandably, this was not allowed in such a sacred place and the security guard made us erase our photo work. oh well.
The rest of the day I spent wondering in and out of the ruins. On my way up to the Sun Gates I had a very National Geographic Discovery Channel experience. Right after I was almost run over by like 10 llamas charging down this narrow path, I stumbled apone a llama giving birth!!!!!!! It was so amazing. Right before hand the father had committed suicide and fallen off the cliff to meet his death (I am convinced it was becuase having a child was just too much responsibility for him). For an hour I watched a baby llama being pushed out and welcomed into this world. It was so floppy and had placenta all around it. But once it was able to sit down and lift its head up on its own, I was granted the honor of preforming a baptism ceremony. I drank some boxed wine with some workers of Macchupichu and poured a little over the llamas head welcoming it into this world and thanking the patchimama (mother earth). With every death there is a birth. So beautiful and metaphorical.
On the way back to Cusco, the entire bus wanted to just pass out from having had such a long journey the last couple of days. However, we were blessed by having the biggest assholes in our bus ever. They were from California and I felt sooo embarrassed for my country. They were pissed drunk and screaming and yelling fuck shit gay nigger every other word. They pissed in bottles, one guy shat himself cause he thought it would be funny, they were so disrespectful to this 60 year old man sitting next to them, and when the driver and the women working on the bus asked them to be quiet they just told her to take her clothes off and get naked. We stopped the bus and were going to kick them off at the police station, but unfortunetly they convinced the driver that they deserved to get to cusco. Such jerks. or as the english say, such wankers.
So when i eventually got back to cusco the bed at wild rover hostel felt so good to climb into. The week had been just one adventure after another and i was reading to just sleep and do nothing for a couple of days. Cusco has trapped me in with its small streets, beautiful plazas, amazing food of all sorts, and great nightlife. I could really see myself staying here for a couple of months and working in a bar hostel restaurant teaching english or something. However, my plans are taking me north and there are more countries to see. I will come back some day for sure.
miércoles, 2 de febrero de 2011
Lake BoobPoop (aka Lake Titicaca)
I am not really sure why anyone would ever name a lake that refers to boobs and poo in the same name, but never the less, it is an amazing lake. Lake Titicaca is the highest navitagable lake in the world and sits between the border of Peru and Bolivia. At times it looks like the ocean since you cant see the other side of the lake. To get to the lake on the Bolivian side the common place to stop off at is Cocacabana (which reminds me of a beach coctail with a mini umbrella in it for some reason). However Cocacabana is not really anything like that. I spent one night there in this really shitty hostel room with only one bed, a little cabinet, and nothing else. It was raining so I just read my book and ate an entire bar of chocolate in the hostel room.
After eating amazing chicken soup for breakfest (I have discovered the joy of eating soup for breakfest), I heading on a 10 mile hike along the coast through farm land to a small port town where I picked up a way too expensive boat ride over to Isla del Sol (island of the sun). Although I got only a little bit of sun in the two days that I spent on the island, it was absolutely beautiful. There were some pretty epic lightning and thunder storms. I counted and there was not even one second between the thunder and lightning. ahh!
If I was travelling with a lover, this would definetly be the spot to go. It is super romantic, quite island, with hostels high up on the island with views of the lake and snow peaked Andean mountains in the background. However I was not with a lover and instead past the time by myself the majority of the time. I got in a lot of good me time, which got a little lonely after a while. Although I did end up eating one dinner with these two dudes from South America who are in a pop rock band together and wore leather jackets and long dangly earings. I couldnt really understand much of what they were saying since their spanish accent was nearly impossibly to understand. But I did a good job at pretending I knew what was going on.
I walked a good 10ish miles around the island and saw some inca ruins and a beach loaded with tents and hippie argentinians with guitars and mate. If I was argentinian and shaved off half of my hair or wore baggy pants and carried hot water to pour into my mate tea, I would have loved camping out on this beach. However, I am far from that. Apparently this island was where the Incans created the world for the "second" time. I am not really sure where they created the world for the "first" time. I went to the rock where they created the world and was told that there was a puma shape in the rock. i definetly did not see any puma in the rock, but nonetheless touched my hands against it and absorbed the energy it gave me.
I could definetly go back to this Island and just do nothing for a couple of days. It was really peaceful and beautiful. However, I did get kinda lonely and was ready to head to a more touristy place where I would meet other travellers. I ran down in the rain with some French peeps I met and cuaght a boat ride back to Cocacabana. We bought tickets to head to Cusco and although we paid for "semi cama" seats that were suppose to recline, we got stuck on a shit bus. I spent my extra bolivianos on lots of cookies and chocolate and crossed the Peruvian border!! yeah! another stamp on the passport!
We stopped over in Puno for 4 hours on route to Cusco. Puno is the shittier town on the Peruvian side of Lake Titicaca. In those 4 hours I stumbled upon a huge fiesta in the plaza. hundreds of people were celebrating some virgen or saint or something. There was lots of live music and locals dressed in their typical wear. I hugged my backpack for life so no one would rob it and went straight in the middle of the crowd. Peruvians are way nicer than bolivians and I was quickly invited into a circle party. I danced some salsa, drank some Cusquena beer, went pee on the floor in this nasty bathroom (which everyone was doing), and bought way too much greasy street food (hamburgesa, fried chicken on friend noodles, and meat on a stick). Gross. but so good. Good first hours in Peru!!
After eating amazing chicken soup for breakfest (I have discovered the joy of eating soup for breakfest), I heading on a 10 mile hike along the coast through farm land to a small port town where I picked up a way too expensive boat ride over to Isla del Sol (island of the sun). Although I got only a little bit of sun in the two days that I spent on the island, it was absolutely beautiful. There were some pretty epic lightning and thunder storms. I counted and there was not even one second between the thunder and lightning. ahh!
If I was travelling with a lover, this would definetly be the spot to go. It is super romantic, quite island, with hostels high up on the island with views of the lake and snow peaked Andean mountains in the background. However I was not with a lover and instead past the time by myself the majority of the time. I got in a lot of good me time, which got a little lonely after a while. Although I did end up eating one dinner with these two dudes from South America who are in a pop rock band together and wore leather jackets and long dangly earings. I couldnt really understand much of what they were saying since their spanish accent was nearly impossibly to understand. But I did a good job at pretending I knew what was going on.
I walked a good 10ish miles around the island and saw some inca ruins and a beach loaded with tents and hippie argentinians with guitars and mate. If I was argentinian and shaved off half of my hair or wore baggy pants and carried hot water to pour into my mate tea, I would have loved camping out on this beach. However, I am far from that. Apparently this island was where the Incans created the world for the "second" time. I am not really sure where they created the world for the "first" time. I went to the rock where they created the world and was told that there was a puma shape in the rock. i definetly did not see any puma in the rock, but nonetheless touched my hands against it and absorbed the energy it gave me.
I could definetly go back to this Island and just do nothing for a couple of days. It was really peaceful and beautiful. However, I did get kinda lonely and was ready to head to a more touristy place where I would meet other travellers. I ran down in the rain with some French peeps I met and cuaght a boat ride back to Cocacabana. We bought tickets to head to Cusco and although we paid for "semi cama" seats that were suppose to recline, we got stuck on a shit bus. I spent my extra bolivianos on lots of cookies and chocolate and crossed the Peruvian border!! yeah! another stamp on the passport!
We stopped over in Puno for 4 hours on route to Cusco. Puno is the shittier town on the Peruvian side of Lake Titicaca. In those 4 hours I stumbled upon a huge fiesta in the plaza. hundreds of people were celebrating some virgen or saint or something. There was lots of live music and locals dressed in their typical wear. I hugged my backpack for life so no one would rob it and went straight in the middle of the crowd. Peruvians are way nicer than bolivians and I was quickly invited into a circle party. I danced some salsa, drank some Cusquena beer, went pee on the floor in this nasty bathroom (which everyone was doing), and bought way too much greasy street food (hamburgesa, fried chicken on friend noodles, and meat on a stick). Gross. but so good. Good first hours in Peru!!
Detox
Sorata is a small town near Lake Titicaca that is slightly off the beaten track (although tons of hippie argentinians some how knew about it and all stay at this reggae hostel). I took a really cheap 5 hour van ride from La Paz to get there and had to sit next to this big bolivian women wearing like 20 skirts, 30 shawls, holding her 5 year old kid in her lap with a kitten. Really smooshed. There was also this wierd hole in the van so dust flew up in my face the whole time. Although the journey was a bit uncomfortable, to say the least, the view out the window was absoluetly beautiful. It was the first time I really got to lay my eyes on the Cordillera Real Andean mountain range. And so I decided I had to get to the top of one of those mountains.
I showed up to Sorata and booked a 3 day trek with the only tour agency in town. Originally I was going to be going on my own with the guide, but a really nice English guy showed up just in time. So Andy (the English dude), Mario (our Bolivian tour guide), Pancho (our mule that carried the tents and food), and myself set out the next day for a two night three day trek to Laguna Glacier. Andy was a perfect hike buddy and we talked the whole time about his job working on an apple farm and the joys of being outdoors. Mario made us fantastic food every night for dinner and was a great guide, except for the fact that he carried this huge radio the entire time and we were forced to listen to shit bolivian music. He even slept with his radio. I still dont understand how the batteries lasted so long. But I do know that I really dont like Andean music.
The hike was absolutely gorgeous, winding through grassy hills with fog rolling in and out. Andy and I played endless hours of this great card game called Shit Head in our tent. The second day we hiked up to 5,033 meters (which is the highest I have ever been in my life) and got to a lake with an amazing glacier falling into it. We ate lunch there surrounded by these really scary birds that squawked really loud and flew really close to our heads. That night we were greeted by this random miner who works up in the mountains and played trumpet for us. Bizzare. We were also blessed by a full moon that night.
It felt so good to be out there hiking around and getting some real excersice after drinking lots of beer and eating greasy street food for a couple of weeks. Travelling is fucking awesome cuase you get a balance of everything good in life. Cities, lots of other good travelers to meet, good beer, dancing, hiking, relaxing, sleeping, reading, eating, etc. Cant really beat it. Everyday I think about how grateful I am to have this opportunity to travel.
I showed up to Sorata and booked a 3 day trek with the only tour agency in town. Originally I was going to be going on my own with the guide, but a really nice English guy showed up just in time. So Andy (the English dude), Mario (our Bolivian tour guide), Pancho (our mule that carried the tents and food), and myself set out the next day for a two night three day trek to Laguna Glacier. Andy was a perfect hike buddy and we talked the whole time about his job working on an apple farm and the joys of being outdoors. Mario made us fantastic food every night for dinner and was a great guide, except for the fact that he carried this huge radio the entire time and we were forced to listen to shit bolivian music. He even slept with his radio. I still dont understand how the batteries lasted so long. But I do know that I really dont like Andean music.
The hike was absolutely gorgeous, winding through grassy hills with fog rolling in and out. Andy and I played endless hours of this great card game called Shit Head in our tent. The second day we hiked up to 5,033 meters (which is the highest I have ever been in my life) and got to a lake with an amazing glacier falling into it. We ate lunch there surrounded by these really scary birds that squawked really loud and flew really close to our heads. That night we were greeted by this random miner who works up in the mountains and played trumpet for us. Bizzare. We were also blessed by a full moon that night.
It felt so good to be out there hiking around and getting some real excersice after drinking lots of beer and eating greasy street food for a couple of weeks. Travelling is fucking awesome cuase you get a balance of everything good in life. Cities, lots of other good travelers to meet, good beer, dancing, hiking, relaxing, sleeping, reading, eating, etc. Cant really beat it. Everyday I think about how grateful I am to have this opportunity to travel.
bolivian lucha libres
So, I am major behind on my blogging. I knew this would happen and feel overwhelmed by all the amazing things i have done in the last two weeks. its seems like a month or something has gone by since i have done so much. when you travel you really pack in tons and every day feels like a century long. but now that i just got a $6 dollar message for an hour with baby oils and hot rocks from an 18yearold girl named shiela, i am ready to sit down and get my blog on.
i purposefully had rearranged a little of my travel schedule so i would be in la paz bolivia for sunday when the Cholita Wrestling match takes place. One of the wierdest experiences i have witnessed. Cholita women are the women in la paz that wear about 20 layers of skirts, wierd looking top hats, and pretty shawls that get all up in your grill when you are trying to pass them on the street. Lucha libres originated in mexico and are the classic WWF-like wrestlers who where these skin tight masks that my boy friend is obsessed with. so imagine these big bolivian senoras wrestling luchador men in tight one piece outfits. one even was wearing a complete tiger print one piece. all the gringos got to sit in our own section up front close to the action, while the local bolivians got crazy in the back bleachers. now since it is all an act and a really bad act at that, they would pretend to throw punches and would fall down like 5 seconds too late. super delayed response. copying the bolivians reactions to the show, we started throwing chicken bones, popcorn, and even water bottles at the wrestlers. it was a shit show. and the whole time i wore this lucha libre pink mask. one of the wrestler men went in for a kiss, but ended up licking my face. apparently this was also part of the show since it happened to this other girl i was travelling with the sunday before.
and so on that note, i left la paz and headed to a more tranquil town called sorata. my plan was to detox my body and sober up from the long nights dancing in hard rock cafe/club and surrounding myself around other crazy chain smoking travellers.
i purposefully had rearranged a little of my travel schedule so i would be in la paz bolivia for sunday when the Cholita Wrestling match takes place. One of the wierdest experiences i have witnessed. Cholita women are the women in la paz that wear about 20 layers of skirts, wierd looking top hats, and pretty shawls that get all up in your grill when you are trying to pass them on the street. Lucha libres originated in mexico and are the classic WWF-like wrestlers who where these skin tight masks that my boy friend is obsessed with. so imagine these big bolivian senoras wrestling luchador men in tight one piece outfits. one even was wearing a complete tiger print one piece. all the gringos got to sit in our own section up front close to the action, while the local bolivians got crazy in the back bleachers. now since it is all an act and a really bad act at that, they would pretend to throw punches and would fall down like 5 seconds too late. super delayed response. copying the bolivians reactions to the show, we started throwing chicken bones, popcorn, and even water bottles at the wrestlers. it was a shit show. and the whole time i wore this lucha libre pink mask. one of the wrestler men went in for a kiss, but ended up licking my face. apparently this was also part of the show since it happened to this other girl i was travelling with the sunday before.
and so on that note, i left la paz and headed to a more tranquil town called sorata. my plan was to detox my body and sober up from the long nights dancing in hard rock cafe/club and surrounding myself around other crazy chain smoking travellers.
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