Jul 2008

Lovin' the cheap food

Pisac

Pukapukara

Tiempo del Asado

Oh my goodness

Mi guia

Local Delicacy

After our whirlwind Incan tour we caught word of the Virgen de Carmen festival in the nearby town of Paucartambo. So we hopped a bus there understanding that because of the festival we might not be able to find a place to stay and might have to sleep outside. Luckily, Pilar befriended a couple from Lima who knew of some clandestine places to stay. When we arrived the town was already in a state of pandemonium. The streets were crowded with 18 different groups of parading dancers and musicians, each representing different aspects of the complicated religious proceedings.

We searched for some places and finally found a beautiful hacienda that had been converted into hostel by the wild-eyed, now-drunk owner. We were thankful to have a bed.

We went back into the streets and watched the proceedings for the next few hours.

Wild-costumes, crowd interference, dancing, and drunk spectators - a real festival.


We went back to the hostel where the owner and his kooky friends were getting shitfaced. The friends knew no bounds of personal space and were pressing us for interaction. Things continued to get stranger as they got more drunk. We left again for the square where an old couple invited us to dance with them - Pilar, of course, quickly picked up the correct steps I just did my "dance-in-circle" routine. Really genuine, fun people. Dangerous fireworks and LOTS of drinking.
We bumped into the crazy friends again who didn't want to let us leave, they explained how nice the hostel was because it was not only a hostel, it was, apparently, an informal sanitorium for the owner and his friends. That explained alot about the awkward happenings.

We returned to Cuzco the next day.

After hanging around Cuzco for a couple of days and visiting some sites we began our journey to Macchu Picchu by way of Santa Maria and Santa Teresa - two small towns in the upper Amazon. As we ascended up the mountains surrounding Cuzco it was not hard to believe why the mountain bastion of Macchu Picchu had eluded European discovery for nearly 500 years. The landscape went from the relatively dry hills to precipices of several thousand feet, densely covered in jungle. All within about a 2-hours journey.
We reached the town of Santa Maria had some jungle juice and hopped another colectivo to Santa Teresa - a small town very near Macchu Picchu. We soaked in the thermal baths and prepared to depart at 4 in the morning to Macchu. The route to MP by way of Santa Teresa is more difficult and requires about 8-hours walking roundtrip, but it avoids the expensive tourist train and complimentary rip-off, train town. We awoke, met a Belgian hippie, and began the dark walk along train tracks to MP. It was fucking dark and dangerous. We crossed over a railway bridge in pitch darkness and sang "yes, Jesus loves me!" in attempt to conjure courage.

We finally reached the gates of MP after a ridiculous final ascent by the way of the Incan road. Virtually straight-up the hillside. The park was already bulging with tourists, but we paid the overpriced ticket, I bought a red bull and entered the park. It had taken us 4 hours to walk from Santa Teresa.
Macchu Picchu truly is amazing. It remained hidden from European eyes until 1912 because of its geographical isolation and its' importance to the Incan culture. It is speculated (no one knows for sure because there is no Incan writing) that kept there were the Virgins of the Sun that served the Incan priests and leaders. It might also be where the last Incan emperor retreated shortly before being captured by the Spaniards elsewhere. Possibly the original Temple of the Sun is here. There really isn't a good way to describe MP in words.


We wondered around for awhile and I ascended the peak behind MP - Huayna Picchu.

We descended and began the 4-hour walk back to Santa Teresa and along the way found some avocadoes and bananas to eat.


Next day we had some trouble getting to Ollantaytambo but Pilar was a first-class negotiator and we succeeded in our travels. I am accustomed to using a "good cop/bad cop" form of negotiation - now I just play stupid cop because of Pilar's expertise and "take-no-prisoners" attitude. Unquestionably, here I'm at a disadvantage compared to Pilar. She gets so much more out of the places and people we're visiting because she can speak the language - I probably come across as a sort of intelligent cow. I return your gaze, but there just isn't a lot of understanding going on. Nevertheless, I enjoy.
We arrived in Ollantaytambo and found a beautiful hostel and I accidentally erased all of my photos while sitting on the toilet. We visited the ruins where the Incas won a battle against the Spanish by flooding the fields below the fort and rolling boulders onto the poor bastards.
We moved onto Salinas - old salt drying beds, then to Moray - a kind of Incan laboratory for crops - descending circular terraces set within a natural bowl valley.

Finally, our whirlwind 'Incan Ruin Tour 08' concluded in the town of Chincheros where the Spanish built a beautifully painted church over some Incan structures. Really lovely little place and we ate a nice lunch with rice and tripe.

Exhausted, we returned back to Cuzco and a local computer whiz recovered my photos

Cuzco is like the disneyland of South America - more tourists than natives. But the place deserves the visitors - it is absolutely beautiful. The city is set within beautiful hills with a dozen old churches and cathedrals. This was the premier city of the Incan empire for many years that, at its' peak, stretched from Quito, Ecuador to northern, Argentina/Chile. When the Spanish arrived here in the early 1500's they, of course, killed the Incan Emperor (not before demanding a ransom of gold) and tried to assume power of the empire. It took awhile, but they succeeded, even though the Quechua language of the Incas survives with some 5 million speakers. Cuzco reflects the struggle of the empires. Spanish churches are built on the foundations of Incan sites and colonial buildings are set within the confines of the narrow streets that Incans only made large enough for load-bearing llamas.
I bumped into the Argentineans and Brit/Aussie I met in Argentina - they all succeeded in getting jobs here in various restaurants. I was to catch up with them at some bars but, evidently, my food poisoning was actually a parasite. Apparently, while the amoeba is chowing down on my hard-earned food (within my gut) it emits a gas. So my abdomen swelled just a bit. But I eliminated that little fucker with some strong anti-parasitics. I blame the trout in Copacabana.
After some recovery time, it was the day of Pilar´s arrival. It was ill-timed because the entire country of Peru was on strike for various economic reasons. When I exited the hostel to go to the airport the streets were COMPLETELY blocked with crowds and there were no cars, taxis, colectivos - nothing. I asked a police officer how I could get to the airport and he flagged down his friend on a motorscooter. He agreed to take me there for free. As I clutched to his midriff, the crowd threw a few rocks at us because it was disrespectful to be driving during the protests.
Pilar arrived and we were both completely shocked to see one another after nearly 4 months. We didn't know how to greet one another, but we quickly caught up.

The next day we visited the ruins of the Incan fortress saqsaywaman (yes, it sounds like 'sexy woman' if you can't, like me, pronounce quechua). Unbelievable place, we just mulled about the massive rock walls for a few hours and remarked at the unbelievable masonry skills of the Incas. They had only bronze tools and had nothing stronger than a llama to move 200 ton blocks that fit together without any bonding-agent.
We head to some smaller towns in the next few days to soak in some hot springs and visit more ruins including Macchu Picchu.

After Potosi I made my way to lake titicaca - on the border with peru. I arrived at the bus station from Potosi at 6 in the morning. It was downright freezing, I curled up into my little, blue sleeping bag in the terminal and tried to divert my attention. I bought a ticket for a small colectivo to Copacabana, about 3.5 hours from La Paz. I was astounded at the landscape when we arrived there. Copa is small - maybe 50,000 people and nestled between two massive hills and set on the sapphire-blue waters of the lake.
Stunningly beautiful - one of the seven wonders of the natural world. I found a cheap place to stay and wondered to the cathedral where the clergy was blessing newly purchased cars. Afterwards, I walked up one of the large hills where catholics have built tributes to the virgin mary. They were spraying beer on one another and lighting candles.
Copa is a neo-hippie hangout - plush with dredlocked, hemp-braiding folk. A pleasant change from the rest of Bolivia.
Next day was July 4th, I tried to conjure the spirit of the holiday, but had no luck. I hiked to Yampupata - a small town the almost touches Isla del Sol.

Isla is where Incan mythology places the birth of the sun god. It's a small little island and stuninngly beautiful and without motorized vehicles. I met two Belgian girls on the hike and we all rented a rowboat with a guide to take us to the island. We weren't aware that part of the deal included us rowing with him. Difficult work at 4000 meters, but we managed.

We arrived at the small town of Yumani and found a cheap hostel perched on a hillside and remarked again and again at the beauty of the surroundings. We drank alot and I got food poisoning again. The stars were unbelievable - possible to see the thick band of the milky-way. The next day we hiked to the temple of the sun and soaked up the atmosphere.

I was meditating next to the ruins when some English arrived. I could hear them guessing as to what I was doing sitting so still. They correctly surmised I was meditating and guessed I was soaking up the energy from the Incan power centers. Huh? Dude, I only energy-bathe when I'm wearing my geode-power satchel.

We trekked for what seemed like an endless amount of time - things made complicated by the triple whammy of hangover, food poisoning, and severe altitude. But the scenery overpowered all and we arrived at the northern end of the island at the pueblo of Cha'llapampa. We hopped a boat back to Copa and I bought a bus ticket to Cusco for the next day.
Goodbye Bolivia. It's been nice, but I will not miss the women pissing in the streets, the bitterly cold nights, or the gastrointestinal war I've waged here.
I arrive in Cusco tommorow and soon thereafter will meet my friend Pilar from Spain. Pilar lives in Madrid and is skipping out on some flamenco dancing opportunities to come explore the continent. It will be nice to no longer travel alone, especially with a native spanish speaker.
So many foreigners I meet here have a similiar story to Pilar's and mine. Work sucked or wasn't what they wanted - so they quit and went travelling. No one seems to have regrets. Talking to all these well-to-do foreigners and seeing the Bolivian lifestyle has once again reminded me of how much opportunity I have back in the States. I hope I have the clear sight when I return and choose to do something worthwhile. There's always H-E-B!