Philippines: Chapter One - Over the River and Through the Woods to Nanay's House We Go

A note from the author:

Unlike my Peru blog, which was mostly compromised of e-mails I authored within days after I visited certain locations, this one is being written more than six months after the trip concluded.  I don't expect to go into as much detail, but it might be an interesting exercise to see what stands out in my mind half a year later

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To describe the flight from Los Angeles to Hong Kong to Manila would probably be a huge waste of time, and to be honest I don't really remember much about it.  We flew Cathay Pacific which rocked; the in-seat entertainment console had tons of free movies and television which helped the 14 hours go by as easily as possible.  I watched 'Taxi Driver' for the first time and 'Goodfellas' for the millionth time.  The seats were comfortable enough, and they had this neat 'clamshell' design which meant that when the person in front of you decided to recline - you didn't get a face full of their seat.  The food was also pretty decent.  I had requested the Kosher meal out of sheer fascination  - in today's crappy air travel reality, the fact that food was even being served was amazing, let alone the fact that we had a choice in what we ate.  I managed to get a few hours of sleep before we touched down in Hong Kong and were blasted by the extreme humidity on the jet bridge.  Our layover was short, and the flight to Manila even shorter.  We de-planed and made our way to the baggage claim.

One obligation that is understood to exist for anyone traveling to the Philippines is what is called the 'balakbayan box' - it's literally a box filled with all sorts of things; clothes, food, medical supplies, American souvenirs, candies, etc.  Most of the contents are meant for family members who live in the Philippines - many items that we consider trivial and commonplace are sought after and expensive or even impossible to find in the Philippines.  What any Americano headed to the PI should know is that there is a true art to packing these boxes - seek guidance and help from those who have packed them before.  Also, be forewarned that you won't just be bringing things for immediate family, but for other people's families that live nearby.  And while most of the things people ask you to bring are benign, you may be asked to transport medicines, prescription drugs, and other items that could put you into legal jumbo at customs...more on that later.

Upon retrieving our luggage and balakbayan boxes, we were horrified to see that my box, expertly packed as it was, had a gaping whole in one side.  The airport was far too chaotic though to give it a closer inspection and all we could do was hope that nothing good fell out.  On to customs.

Being the rocket scientist that I am, I had spent the days before our trip researching what to expect at customs.  Reading the statements on the PI government websites, I began to grow paranoid.  Pretty much any of the items we were bringing in (clothes, food, appliances, etc) could be taxed or even confiscated.  On top of that, the Philippines had just executed someone accused of smuggling drugs into the country - and I wasn't sure exactly what they government agents would think of whatever Rx drugs we were carrying on us (without prescriptions) for other people.  However, everyone told me not to worry - that they never had any problems getting through customs with their boxes in the past - that the box stuffed full of goodies was just a way of life.  True, but all of the people reassuring me were not 6' tall, white Americanos - I was certain that customs would want to bust my balls, at least a little.  Even funnier were the suggestions to slip the customs agents some money.  Sure, bribes are commonplace outside of the United States,  but all of these advisers were forgetting that I was as smooth as 60-grit sandpaper and that in my attempt to slip the money I'd probably end up causing a huge scene.  Still, I wanted to ensure an easy pass through customs and decided to fold a $20 bill in each of our passports - subtle enough for me.  Feeling courageous, we handed our money stuffed passports to the agent, who by the way was a tiny, old lady who was probably someone's grandmother.  Upon inspecting our passports, the money fell out onto the desk, which resulted in a quick "Oooooh!" followed by the fastest and most surreptitious of hand gestures, sweeping up the bribe up and pocketing it with incredible finesse.  "Welcome to the Philippines - enjoy your stay!", she beamed.  And we were off...that is until upon attempting to exit the terminal when we were asked to produce our baggage claim tickets.  Luckily, because I'm a paranoid traveler, I still had these handy...the only reason I mention this is because in my respectable history of domestic and foreign travel, never once have I been asked to produce this documentation.

As anyone who has traveled abroad knows, a familiar scene of third world airports is the huge and chaotic crowds that gather at the passenger arrival area - either inside the non-secure part of the terminal or immediately outside.  At Manila International Airport, this crowd is waiting for you across a street upon your exit.  We were warned not to cross into this sea of people until we could visually identify my fiancé’s Auntie which turned out to be great advice until my fiancé admitted she did not quite remember what her Auntie looked like.  This game of looking for someone you barely knew in a huge crowd was made extremely difficult by the masses of people yelling, smiling, and motioning for us to cross, but eventually we made visual contact with someone who my fiancé thought was 'probably her'.  We crossed the street, leaving the safety and security of the airport behind us, and were happy to confirm that we had indeed successfully found the Auntie - and thus our ride out of Manila and up to the Province of Pangasinan.

Our escape from the airport was not without its own hitch.  As everyone was hugging and shaking hands, a man approached and insisted that he help me with my bags.  Not knowing any better, I assumed this man was either an Uncle of my fiancé’s or possibly our van driver.  None of my fiancé’s family spoke up, and as we approached our van, the man demanded a tip.  I was ready to fork it over; a few dollars to me was worth the man's efforts and avoiding a tense situation.  But before I could take out my money Auntie told me to get in the van and gave the man a scolding.  It turned out; he was just some random dude and one of many individuals who wait around at airports and bus stations looking for disoriented tourists to prey on.  I honestly don't think he had any malicious intent - he was just hoping to make a little money off my confusion/guilt - but one should always be wary of unsolicited assistance and respectfully decline.

We were finally off.  Our van ride up to Lingayen, Pangasinan took about 4-5 hours, but the time flew by as I stared out the window in fascination at the various cityscapes, which eventually turned to the most amazingly lush, green countryscapes.  We passed several military bases along the way and much like I saw in Peru, more types of police than you could imagine, most donning M16's and AK47's.  I'm still not sure if all these assault weapons make me feel safer, or if instead they actually instill fear of their own.  We also passed a billboard advertising 'Vegetarian Chicharon' - this horrified me even more than the guns. 

We stopped for lunch at the half way point, in a city called Tarlac.  We ate at Max's, which is famous for its chicken and I also had my first chance to try 'bangus', also known as milk-fish, and sort of a big deal near Lingayen/Dagupan, where we would be staying for the next couple of weeks.  Meal completed, and we were on our way once again.  The longer we drove, the roads got narrower and bumpier.  More than once, we had to pull over and ask for directions.  And then suddenly, there we were - pulling up into a driveway and finally at Nanay's house.

Peru Vacation: After-Afterward

Date: August 22, 2009

It's been a full year and then some since I visited Peru. Reading through, editing, and transposing my writings to this blog has been a rewarding exercise. There is so much I had forgotten and after my recent travels to the Philippines and Hong Kong, I appreciate my Peruvian adventures even more. I would go back to Peru in a hear beat; although this time I'd spend more time in the Arequpia area, see more of the historical side of Lima, and maybe check out some of the north country. A return to Machu Picchu would be excellent, and even Huacachina would be neat to see again, but I think Nazca would not be on any future itinerary. See it once, see it quick, and get the hell out.

This trip was the most fun I have had in my life and it saddens me to think that anywhere I travel from now on will fall short of this vacation. If you are thinking about visiting Peru; do it!

Finally, I realize that I pretty much wrote a novel here. Please use my writings for inspiration, planning, etc..but respect that I spent a lot of time and effort getting my thoughts onto your screen. I don't know if copyrights are implied in writings, but I hereby declare that all of the statements on this blog (factual or semi-factual) are my own work and I call dibs on any words that I may have invented along the way. I did my best to find contact info for the restaurants and hotels we enjoyed, but good luck making any sense of the telephone numbers. With all that said, I welcome questions/comments and wish you safe travels!

Thanks!

Peru Vacation: Afterward

Date: Sometime in late May 2008

Unlike my other chapters, this one I write in real time. I am sitting at a table at the gay coffee house across the street, a free internet connection and lots of unwanted attention comes with my presence. Music plays in the background and I hate it. One song after another that sound as though they belong on a "Time Life" music compilation that's pitched on late night TV infomercials...maybe titled "Homosexual Harmonies of the 1980 and 90's". I have no qualms with gay people, in fact, I think they have great taste in many things, but for some reason they miss the mark when it comes to music.

The guy who just sat uncomfortably close to me smells like a strange combination or citrus and machine shop. I have been back in the United States for about 24 hours now. I still find my self tempted to say "Buenos dias!" to the clerk at the post office, and am surprised to hear people speaking English around me and to me. Despite my present surroundings, it's good to be back. Yesterday I ate In 'N Out and pizza....tomorrow I go to work. Right now, it's just time to get the hell out of here.

Peru Vacation: Chapter Cinco

Date: Mon, Jun 2, 2008 at 10:51 PM
Subject: Machu Picchu, Aguas Calientes, Return to Cuzco, Cuy, and Lima

Another early morning departure, this time to catch the train to Aguas Calientes...the closest village to the ruins of Machu Picchu (train is the only way to get there…no roads). Some things are worth waking up before 7 AM for, and this is definitely one of them. I was a little sad to check out of our hotel so soon, as it's location and ambiance made it a really peaceful setting, but before I knew it we were being led down the road to the 'train station'…really just a line of people that had formed along the tracks. We got there, but then were told by the authorities that we were at the wrong stop, since for this train ride we were to be on the "Backpacker" (read cheap) train. Luckily for us the correct stop was just a few hundred yards away, and although there was a brief scare that we may not be able to bring all of our luggage, we made it on with all of our bags.

Arrival in Aguas Calientes and my unknowing exhibition:

The train ride lasted about 2 hours. It consisted mostly of staring at the mountains and rivers outside, and not trying to make too much bodily contact with the strangers sitting directly in front of me (and facing me for that matter). There were a few other gringos on our car, but most seemed to be from other South American countries. We abruptly arrived, detrained, and found our hotel and tour representatives. We were lead to a pizzeria (pizza is real popular in the village of Aguas Calientes) and told to wait for 15 minutes, however, south of the equator 15 minutes really means an hour. I suddenly had a real urge to use the facilities and someone must have read it on my face because they pointed me in the right direction. I opened the door to the rest room expecting the worst and alas, no toilet seat. Amazingly, there was about a quarter of a roll of toilet paper. In my moment of half excitement/half disappointment, I didn't take the time to study my surroundings fully. It wasn't until I went to wash my hands that I realized that there was no roof above me, and that anyone who walked on the steps that lead to the second floor (a hostel) or that happened to be on the second floor could easily watch me doing my business. I don't know if anyone watched…if they chose to…I hope they enjoyed the show.

I felt much better, if not slightly embarrassed, and before I knew it we were boarding busses to take us up the mountain to the ruins. The road that we followed was basically a bunch of switch backs, again with no guard rails. It was wide enough for one bus, with a few areas where one could pull over and allow the other to pass, but often to do this it meant one bus would have to drive backwards. As a passenger, you really hope your driver knows what he is doing, and that he likes living too. Somewhere, maybe three quarters up the mountain, we could begin to make out the shapes of the ruins, and people began to whip out the cameras. This seemed silly to me because we were sitting on a moving bus, looking through tinted windows…and we all had just paid roughly $60 for the privilege of actually walking around at those ruins.

Finally...Machu Picchu:

We made it to the top, stood in line for another 15 minutes, and then we were in. The ruins were just as amazing as I had imagined they would be, and it’s true that pictures and words could never do them justice. It truly is remarkable that humans built such a huge complex out of stone, let alone on top of a mountain. On our tour we learned (and saw) more examples of Inca ingenuity. Once again, there were fountains the Inca had built whose waters still ran. There was a sundial that was tilted at 13 degrees (Machu Picchu is at 13 degrees latitude and some how the Inca new this). There were space observatories and windows through which the sun directly shines only on the solstices. On top of that, there were temples, residences, farming terraces, schools, and much evidence to suggest that a sophisticated civilization once called this home.

After our tour, we were anxious to explore on our own. We first set out on a hike to find the "Inca Bridge". The hike was pretty flat, but keeping with Inca style, the path was narrow and characterized by a shear cliff on one side. Half way through the hike, we encountered a random llama that was grazing in the path. Two other hikers were behind it, kicking it in the ass every 20 seconds or so, in order to get it to move forward a little bit. We moved as close to the side of the trail (the non-cliff side) and the llama stepped past us. All was good. We finally made it to a point where our path suddenly disappeared, and were left a little puzzled. We studied our surroundings a little and finally identified the "Inca Bridge" which was in fact what appeared to be some logs that stretched about 15-20 feet across a gap in the path ahead of us (that was part of the path we had just walked on, but not connected since the path in between had collapsed at some point). We were a little disappointed, having expected something much more dramatic. We started back and caught up to the llama that was now being photographed and pet by an Italian couple. We stopped to allow them a photo op, and at some point the llama got angry and started running towards the Italian girl. I have never seen someone look so terrified (and rightfully so). I am pretty sure the llama would not lose any sleep over a European tourist it pushed over the cliff…I know I wouldn't.

Next we decided to tackle a hike to the "Sun Gate". The Sun Gate is located perhaps a mile from Machu Picchu in the mountains above, and is where people hiking the Inca Trail are first able to see Machu Picchu after their long, grueling trek. The hike was supposed to be another gradual one…and probably is…if you take the right path. We, however, unknowingly set out on a different path (the proverbial path less traveled). We made it half way up Machu Picchu Mountain before it occurred to us that something was not right…that we were going more vertical than we had anticipated and did not have nearly enough water. In fact, we found ourselves looking down not only at the city of Machu Piccu, but also down at the mountain called Huyana Picchu. We turned back, and by the time we made it back to the ruins, were exhausted and done for the day. I don't remember what I ate that night, but I do know that I drank for the first time "chicha typical" which is basically a fermented (alcoholic) beverage that is made from corn and impossible to find in the United States*. It was pale yellow/white in color, and had the consistency of a milk shake that doesn't have enough ice cream in it…..the taste was comparable to sour cream of corn. Nothing special, but another food/beverage that I could now check off my list.

Huyanapicchu...the other Picchu:

We slept well that night and woke up at 4:30AM so that we could be the first up to Machu Picchu since only 400 people/day are allowed to climb Huyanapicchu, the mountain that towers above Machu Picchu in all of the postcards. We snapped some cool photos of the ruins blanketed in fog, and found our way to the line. We were numbers 10 and 11. The gate to Huyanapicchu opened at 7:30 and the first thing we had to do was sign our names (and probably our lives away) into a log book. After that, our ascent was on.

The hike was no more rigorous than the hike we had mistakenly found ourselves on the day prior, but this one was different because we knew that we could not give up. By now we were used to the tiny steps, huge drops, and random loose/slippery stones that can scare the crap out of you at any given moment and we just marched (sometimes literally crawled) right along. We passed people along the way, the ones who were in front of us in line, but were too focused on our present task to think about what that meant. After navigating our way through a small cave, it suddenly dawned on us that we were really close and right when Gerson turned around to me to say that he thought we had made it, someone stepped out on top of the boulder above Gerson and let out a loud "Woohoo!” Gerson could not see this person from where he was standing (in the process of squeezing underneath the boulder) and thought that the scream was perhaps the last anyone would hear from me as I plummeted down the mountain….but within seconds all was understood, and Gerson and I were standing at the top of Huyanapicchu with our new friend Santiago from Ecuador, 40 minutes after we had set out. Gerson and I felt pretty damn good to be the 2nd and 3rd persons to make the summit for the day, but Santiago had to feel even better. Not only was he the 1st, but while Gerson and I had caught the bus at 5:30 AM to get from Aguas Calientes to the ruins, Santiago had set out at 2:30 AM on foot. He was truly hardcore.

We had a good 5 minutes of just the three of us high fiveing, snapping photos of each other, and taking in the amazing sight of Machu Picchu (and the clouds) below us before some girl from New York joined us. Santiago, being the bad ass that he was, lit up a victory Cuban cigar and I will admit it, made smoking look really cool. We continued celebrating, when suddenly a stray dog randomly came around the corner. I am pretty sure he does this everyday, probably knowing that there will be plenty of tourists happy to see him, and that there is a good chance some will have food they will be happy enough to feed him. He wasn't even out of breath, and as far as stray dogs go, was one of the friendliest. The five of us had a few more moments of silence before the rest of the idiots behind us started showing up. Before we decided it was time to head back down, there was probably close to 30 people at the summit, all speaking different languages and relishing in their victories.

The hike down was via a different path for about half the way, and that path took us past some other ruins and down some really steep (and tiny) steps. I made sure to always let people go ahead of me, since I didn't want some stupid stranger to lose their footing and take me down the mountain with them. Also, I wanted to make sure there was someone below me to break my fall. Eventually we met back up with the path we had taken on our ascent, and every now and then had to negotiate with someone who was on their way up, seemingly playing an extreme game of twister where neither one of you wanted to take more than one arm or leg away from solid ground at a time as you passed.

We made it down and it was still early in the morning, so we decided to set out on another hike, following signs for the "Great Cavern". This hike was the opposite of what we had just completed, in that it started off going down the mountain….a lot further down than one would expect. Half way through it, we encountered an Aussie who told us that he had given up, because the path just kept going down, and he knew that every step he took down was just one more he would have to take back up. He had a good point and the same was occurring to us, but we pressed on.

After about 40 minutes of down hill, we finally came to a clearing which actually turned out to be the Temple of the Moon. We spent some time at the temple where we met up with Santiago again, and found the Great Cavern just around the corner. We snapped a bunch of photos, shared a power bar or two, and said "Adios" to Santiago who set off a minute or two before us for the hike back up to Machu Picchu. He left us in the dust, and we never saw him again. We began our hike back up.

40 minutes down hill means about 80 minutes back up hill. It was probably around 20 minutes into the ascent that we realized how screwed we were. Sweat was pouring out of places on my body I have never sweat from before, our water supply was dwindling, and every time we stopped to take a few breaths, mosquitoes would begin to feast on our delicious American flesh. There were a few moments when I honestly thought we were in over our heads, but I was just one day shy of turning 25, and there was no way I was going to die the day before my birthday. Eventually we made it, signed out of the log book that we had signed earlier in the day (I'm happy to say that Santiago signed out at some point too), and strolled around the ruins for one last look.

We found a nice place to sit, away from all of the other people who were now walking around on tours. Not a word was spoken for a good 30 minutes as we just took in the surroundings, reflected on our journey thus far, and tried to give our legs some time to recover from the abuse they had been through all day. It was time to leave Machu Picchu, and we did. It's kind of amazing knowing how long those ruins have occupied the top of that mountain, and realizing that they will remain there long after my life. In fact, I believe the Inca built them so soundly, that they will be safe up until about the time when the sun decides to swallow the Earth into its enormous, bright belly of fire. Somehow, that is comforting to me.

Dinner that night was a chicken empanada, and breakfast that next morning was continental. Before we knew it, we were on the train back to Ollantaytambo, and shortly thereafter being taxied by a man named Estaban back to Cuzco. It was May 21, and I was now 25 years old. We returned to find all of Cuzco in celebration, no doubt in honor of me. The Plaza was filled with people, and a parade of dancers and Saints seemed to march ceaselessly past. After some intense souvenir shopping/haggling, we decided it was time to grab dinner. Tonight was the night I was to finally eat cuy.

Birthday Cuy:

After inspecting the menus of several establishments around the central plaza, we were finally talked into one by a beautiful, young hostess who insisted that their cuy were indeed the freshest guinea pigs, and not rats. A pretty convincing argument, but not sure why she was so defensive. I ordered it, and a long with a Pisco Sour, sure enough a roast vermin of some form was placed in front of me. I wasn't too surprised to see that the head and tiny feet were still attached, but that isn't to say I was happy they were. Time to put my mouth where my money (or Gerson's since he graciously offered to buy dinner) was. To be honest, it tasted somewhere between pork and chicken proving my theory that meat is meat. What was disappointing, but again not surprising, was that guinea pigs simply do not have a lot of meat on them to begin with. For all of the cutting, tearing, and biting…I only got a few satisfying morsels out of the damn adorable thing. Perhaps I'll be able to find some meatier fellows at my local Petco when I return home and can give it another go around. I downed another beer just to kill any cuy bacteria that might now be growing in my stomach, and we called it an early night…once again we had an early transfer to catch in the morning; a flight back to Lima.

Smog, traffic, and urban sprawl...and not even back in Los Angeles yet:

We found ourselves back in Lima which was just as we had left it….smoggy, warm, and very Southern Californiaish. I joined Gerson and his family for lunch at his grandmother's house…on the menu was panchamanca. Pachamanca refers to a style of cooking that was traditionally done in the ground, although today it was accomplished using the oven. It consisted of a huge piece of beef, corn with kernels so big it looked alien, giant beans, and two styles of potato (one dry and one sweet). I was full half way through this plate but finished it as I did not want to be rude. This was followed by a huge bowl that was filled to the brim with a soup, which I also felt obliged to finish, which was chased down with dessert. In all, I probably gained 13 pounds from the meal. Gerson was to stay around for dinner, and I called it a day. I hopped in a taxi, got back to the hotel, and slipped into a food coma for a few hours.

The remainder of our days in Lima were nothing remarkable, but that's how I wanted it. Gerson spent the majority of his time with his various aunts, uncles, and cousins, and I was happy for the alone time. I spent it, mostly wandering the streets of Miraflores aimlessly on a quest to find the best ceviche in all of Lima. I eventually did find it and it was amazing. Along the way, I also stumbled across a bunch of beautifully manicured parks, a light house, a Dunkin Donuts, the best brasa chicken at a place called Pardo's (apparently there is one in Manhattan), and some more anticuchos (beef heart skewers) that were even better than the first ones I had. I even hit up another discothèque and this time busted out a few moves, realizing that I was never going to see any of these people ever again.

Before I knew it, we were sitting at the airport, destination Los Angeles. A group of high school students from Georgia sat behind us in the terminal, the one closest to me obviously the reclusive kid in the class, already buried in the first few pages of a book about Che Guevara. I'm pretty sure his red state parents will make him burn it when he gets home. We boarded the plane, but not before a last minute security screening which resulted in me having to toss a bottle of hand sanitizer (god forbid I try to kill some germs on this flight). I settled into my seat, an exit row, and I agreed that in the event of an emergency I would surely assist others….but I knew that wan not true…I'd probably just save myself. At least I wouldn't go out of my way to prevent the others from getting off though. With legs outstretched and earplugs inserted snuggly, I managed to finally get some sleep. I woke up to daylight and an announcement that we are 120 miles from Los Angeles and beginning our descent. We're told that we will be "landing shortly". Not too shortly, I think to myself (thanks George Carlin).

The plane lands, we get off, and proceed through customs. Somehow the drug sniffing dogs don't pick up on the high concentration of coca that is running through my veins and seeping out of my skin, but that's for the better. I say goodbye to Gerson, and say hello to Los Angeles and Ai. A shave, a hot shower, and a double-double from In-N'-Out tell me that I am indeed finally back home.

Final Random Observations:

1) Peruvians like to make out in public and they get really into it…no I don't know this from personal experience, simply observation. I think this is because young adults in Peru live with their parents until they get married. I suspect this, not because anyone told me directly, but just because that is one of the first questions the young Peruvian people I met asked me…"Do you live on your own?". When I answered affirmative, there was always a look of awe. Perhaps because they live with their parents, they don't get much privacy, and that explains all the hardcore necking I witnessed.

2) No one gets their coffee to go…they take the time to drink it where they buy it…even at Dunkin Donuts. This probably has to do with the fact that down there, the pace of life is much slower than our "lets hurry up and spill coffee all over ourselves while we're driving down the 405" culture. A nice benefit though, is that you don't see paper and Styrofoam cups strewn about the sidewalks and streets….also, the bums hold out their hats for your spare change instead of a cup.

a. Related to that thought, most of the beggars in Peru seemed to be either small children, or old women. Not sure what up with that.

3) Crossing the street is a skill. In Peru, J-walking isn't only legal, it's required if you ever hope to get anywhere. We learned pretty early on that if you saw (or maybe anticipated) a break in traffic and thought that you might have to cross the street sometime in the near future…better get moving. If you need to think twice, you’re too late. We got really good at street crossing and I am pretty sure we looked like natives to the tourists who had just arrived and waited like suckers at the crosswalks.

4) In Peru, taxis hail people. This seemed to be the case no matter where we went. In the desert (Ica and Huacachina), there would always be taxis parked one after the other, with the drivers leaned against their cars saying "Taxi, taxi…." This was the more laid back approach in the country. In the city, they tended to drive up next to you and slam on their horn, scaring the living crap out of you. This was their friendly and demented way of saying "Hey buddy, I see that you're walking…need a lift?"

5) All Peruvian bands play the exact same songs and try to sell you a CD with the exact same songs in the exact same order, but usually under a different band name. Yes, I admit that there are probably some traditional Peruvian songs that they figure everyone will recognize or want to hear. But "Guantanamera" is not even Peruvian…it's most certainly Cuban. Why they all have it in their repertoire, I have no idea. I am convinced the bands are hired and trained by the Peruvian government to go out and entertain the Gringos.

6) I found myself partying with a group of engineers one night in Lima. All of them (guys and girls), were way better looking than your typical American engineers. I mean, I guess its hard to have a pasty complexion when you live that close to the equator, and perhaps they don't lock themselves into their rooms to play video games all day like kids at RPI did, because in Peru Internet bandwidth is super slow…but whatever the reason, I think RPI and the rest of the nerd schools would benefit highly from some sort of student exchange.

7) Not everyone knows English. I know this sounds stupid to say, because it should be obvious, but I think we are brought up assuming that while English isn't everyone's primary language, that somehow the rest of the world probably learns it in school at some point in their lives. While that may be the case in some parts of the world, I was blown away by how little English was spoken, and at the same time, how terrible my Spanish is. It was sort of embarrassing that I studied Spanish for 5 years, and live in a neighborhood where I could practice it daily, but somehow my Spanish vocabulary was reduced to "good morning", "good afternoon", "thanks", and "no thanks".

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Additional Details:

Hotel in Lima:
Hotel Señorial
Jose Gonzales 567
Miraflores
(51-1) 444-5755
http://www.senorial.com/

Extremely close to Larcomar, the beach, and the nicer parts of Miraflores. This place is huge, clean, and serves its purpose just fine. If I remeber correctly, it was also very afforable. If you are on a budget, and want to tap into the Larcomar nightlife, this place is ideal.

Best Ceviche in the WORLD:
Alfresco
Malecon Balco 790
Miraflores, Lima

I'll admit it, I haven't had every ceviche in the world, but I'm working on it. With that said, the meal I had here, ceviche mixto with dos cervezas, was easily in my top three meals of my lifetime. Seriously, it was that good. While Machu Picchu was the perfect climax to ouradevtures in Peru, this place was hands down the culinary pinnacle. I left Machu Picchu spirtually enlightened; I left Alfresco's gastronomicaly enlightened and fulfilled.

*Note about Chicha Typical, the alcoholic chicha:
I soon learned after my trip that you can indeed get this Stateside. I found a restaurant nearby that specializes in the cuisine of Arequipa:

El Misti Picanteria Arequipeña
3070 W Lincoln Ave
Ste D
Anaheim, CA 92801
(714) 995-5944
http://www.elmisticuisine.com

Peru Vacation: Chapter Cuatro

Date: Tue, May 27, 2008 at 12:49 PM
Subject: Cuzco and the Sacred Valley of the Inca

Cuzco...Night One:

At some point on our train ride from Puno to Cuzco, Gerson struck up a conversation with a train attendant (I don't know if there is a better term for the equivalent of a flight attendant who happens to work on a train). Gerson liked that she was attractive and had a nice smile. She liked that he was Peruvian American and had eyebrows that could make little children cry out of shear terror. He found out that she and the other train attendants were going to a discotheque called "Boom!" later in the night. She liked it because it was mostly locals who graced its dance floors, unlike most other places in Cuzco, the "Gringo Capital" of Peru where tourists seem to out number residents (but still not llamas, alpacas, and vicuna who always enjoy a comfortable majority). With a little encouragement, I convinced Gerson that we should also go, so that he could continue his ‘dialogue’ with her. We ate light that night, took a nap, and headed out. She was right. Locals only. In the entire establishment, there were probably 90-100 people, only 1.5 of that number being gringo. We had a beer or two and saw no sign of Gerson's dream girl. People danced below us, and not after too long, someone came by and subtly slid a "Reserved" sign onto our table. It was time to leave. It seems to me that when the train attendant mentioned that the disco was off the beaten tourist track, she was saying that was a good thing. It seems that's how they like it, and I can't blame them. I would compare Cuzco to Arequipa in beauty and appearance, but the infestation of "turistas" in Cuzco makes the city feel cheaper and inauthentic. We called it a night.

Cuzco City Tour:

On our first (and only) full day in Cuzco we were to take a tour of the city. Much to our surprise, we didn't need to wake up ungodly early for this tour...instead it met in the afternoon. While Gerson saw this as an opportunity to sleep in, I could not willingly cheat myself of Cuzco time, which was already to be a scarce resource. I spent the morning wandering the streets aimlessly, being approached every 20 feet by someone wanting; to sign me up for a tour, give me a massage (and probably more), or sell me one of their paintings. Even the hostesses at the restaurants were more aggressive here, often stepping in your path, shoving a menu in your face, and chasing you down if you tried to escape their attention. It seemed too much to ask for to just have some time alone to take in the surroundings.

Gerson woke around noon, and we set off to find lunch. We settled on a place called "Inka Grill" which is the same name of a restaurant back home that Ai and I frequent. I thought for sure that with a name like that, the food would have to be pretty authentic to the Peruvian style. I was wrong. Looking over the menu, I felt like I was taking a trip around the world, stopping in every Gastrocentric Capital along the way. I saw dish that said "steak" in the description and selected that. What was placed in front of me about 10 minutes later was unlike anything I have ever eaten before in my life. It was called "carpaccio" and apparently made famous by Harry's Bar in Venice, Italy...a place frequented by Charlie Chaplain, Truman Capote, and Hemingway. It is basically raw (as in not cooked at all) beef covered in a mustard sauce, peppered by a few capers here and there. Thinking back to all the warnings I had heard prior to this trip, I heard voices telling me not to drink the water, not to eat the fruit/veggies, not to leave my drink unattended, etc. None of the pre-trip advisers said anything about eating uncooked meat..although 25 years of accrued common sense told me it wasn't a good idea. "Go big or go home", I said to myself and put it down. It was actually really good and to date, I have no symptoms of Ecoli, Eboli, or Mad Cow.

We met up with our tour after lunch. It started out at a site that was the Catholic monastery of Santo Domingo that the Spaniards built a top of the Inca sun temple, Coricancha. If I learned anything on this trip, it's that the Spaniards really must have enjoyed ravaging and demolishing the Inca Empire. I also learned that the Incas were true architecture geniuses...for anytime there are major earthquakes..about every 100 years or so...the Spanish colonial buildings get damaged or destroyed..while the Inca foundations they were built upon remain standing triumphant, tall, proud, and undamaged. Inca stone work is truly amazing...not only did they use enormous stones, but they carved them so that they were interlocking, and fit so tightly together that you literally can not slide a piece of paper between them...all this without use of any type of mortar. The Incas also had a fondness (and abundance) for gold, although they did not view it as having monetary value. They used it everywhere and although none of it still remains at Coricancha, there used to be gardens full of solid gold, life sized statues of people, animals, and other objects that surrounded the temple.

Our next stop was the cathedral in the central square. There were no less than 5 enormous alters in the cathedral, that were meticulously carved out of cedar wood and covered with jewels and gold (no doubt the gold that the Spanish "borrowed" from the Incas). It was all so rather impressive, gaudy, and Spanish.

Our tour officially concluded with visits to the ruins of Sacsayhuaman (no joke...pronounced "sexy woman") as well as a few other impressive sites, one of which featured a natural labyrinth and another that featured a fountain the Incas had built whose waters still run to this very day (the Incas were also amazing plumbers). Supposedly if women drink the water from the fountain, they will be blessed with fertility. If men wash their hair (or lack thereof) in it, they can prevent/reverse balding. I didn't have to be told this twice. I soaked my head plenty.

Our tour then unofficially continued to a community that raises alpaca and vicuna and manufactures/distributes goods made with their wool. We were lectured yet again on the differences between, llamas, alpaca, and vicuna. All I can tell you is that vicuna is more expensive, alpacas make for better meals, and the llamas are pretty much good for nothing. We were given free time to browse through the store hocking various woolen goods...I am certain our tour guide must get a commission for every sale that came from her group. I honed my haggling skills here...you know you are doing well when the person has to consult with their manager several times. We went to bed early that night, for the next day we were to set out on a tour of the "Sacred Valley" of the Inca.

Sacred Valley Tour:

The tour of the Sacred Valley was really nothing to write home about, although I realize I am indeed doing just that. The Valley itself was beautiful with the Uramba River winding its way through and tiny villages sprinkled throughout. Farming terraces, much like those we observed in the Colca Canyon, seemed to cascade like waterfalls down the sides of the mountains. Much like the time of the Inca, the Sacred Valley today is a place of agriculture. We stopped at a few markets, the biggest of which was in the village of Pisac. The whole thing felt like a big shopping spree more than anything else, and we felt a little disappointed. On top of that, our tour guide did little more than tell us over and over again the name of the towns we were driving through, point out really neat views that for some reason we couldn't stop at to enjoy (or really see at all from inside the bus), and tell us to "Don't worry, be happy!". I hated her.

We stopped at some point for lunch, which was a buffet at an impressively decorated restaurant that was located at the end of a very unimpressive, dirt side road. The food was OK, but what were amazing were the gardens outside. I walked down to the river, snapped a bunch of photos of the flora (which earned me the nickname of "Flower" Fox from Gerson), and then it was time to leave. On the way out we came across a very photogenic parrot and yet another stray dog. On to Ollantaytumbo.

Ollantaytumbo is the starting place for those who set out on the Inca trail, and is home to probably the second most impressive ruins we were to see on our entire trip. It served agricultural purposes and was also a fortress for the emperor Manco Inca, and it was where he was able to launch successful attacks on the conquistadors. The ruins at Ollantaytumbo (or Ollanta as the locals call it) like the other ruins we had visited, also featured fountains that still had running water (and better water pressure than many of the hotels we had stayed at thus far). Most impressive were two sets of faces carved onto the side of a nearby mountain...one of which is clearly an old man, and the other the profile of an Inca warrior. It was like an Inca Mt. Rushmore, but the major differences being that one must look a little harder and use some imagination to find the faces. How the Inca did it, I could not guess considering the faces were carved into the side of shear, vertical cliffs...but the Inca were hardcore like that.

Our tour bus continued on without us, making its way back to Cuzco...but this was OK for we were to spend the night in Ollanta and set out for Machu Picchu the next day. Our hotel featured landscaping even more impressive than that of the restaurant we had visited earlier in the day, the softest beds we were to lay upon during the entire 3 weeks, and supposedly is owned by a former Peruvian Woman's Volleyball Olympiad. Dinner was OK that night, but the highlights were the drinks...my first being a beer made with coca leaves and my second being probably the best chicha morada in the entire world. I don't know if it was dinner or lunch, but Gerson and I were extremely gassy that night, shooting intense volleys back and forth all night and all morning. When we first arrived in our room, the smell reminded me of the inside of a wooden cigar box and I loved it. When we left....well...I just feel bad for whomever checked in after us...as well as for whomever had painted the walls so nice and meticulously...for after our vulgar display of gasses..the paint on the walls must have been peeling off.

Random Observations:

1) Babies in Peru get carried in a sack on their parents back, and they learn to walk very early. No one pushes strollers. I would compare it to teaching a child to swim by tossing it into a lake...you would often see children being dragged by their parents, falling, getting back up, and doing it all over again. For the most part, the parents were not in too much of a rush, and by taking this extra time and letting the kid struggle a bit...their infants could run circles (literally) around ours..who are pretty much helpless thanks to too much coddling.

2) Everyone is your "amigo" in Peru. I have never been called a friend by so many people in all of my life. The only problem is they are all trying to sell you something.

3) Horns are used excessively by every mode of transportation; cars, boats, trains, and probably by airplanes if they were appropriately retrofitted...their main purpose seems to be for telling people and livestock to get the hell out of the way or prepare to be flattened.

4) The same person who thought it would be funny to travel around Peru and remove all of the toilet paper and toilet seats, must have a cousin who thought it was also to be funny to steal seat belts out of cars. I can not think of any logical reason why anyone would ever decide it makes sense to go out of their way to un-install a seat belt, but it seems common practice everywhere in Peru. In taxis, on buses, and even in the car of Gerson's Uncle...your best bet is a tight grip on the seat in front of you and a prayer.

5) The Spanish really did a hell of a job at destroying beautiful cultures, demolishing what must have been breathtaking architecture, and plundering the riches of others. I have yet to forgive them, but this raises an interesting if not sad point; we did the same thing to the native North Americans…although our history books tend to ignore this.

Next Chapter....Machu Picchu and our triumphant return to Cuzco.

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Additional Details:

Amazing Hotel in Ollantaytambo:

Hotel Pakaritampu
Av Ferrocarril s/n Ollantaytambo
(+51 84) 204020-204104
http://www.pakaritampu.com

This place is located steps away from the rail station. Normally that would be terrible, but the trains don't come through very often, and chances are if there is a train passing through town, you are probably supposed to be on it. As I mentioned, the beds were comfortable, the landscaping gorgeous, and the ambiance superb; this place pulls off the rustic feel appropriate for where you are without compromising comfort and luxury.

Train Accommodations:

In this instance it's acceptable to be cheap; you will only be on this train for about 2 hours tops and the views aren't all that great since you are literally in a narrow valley with trees pretty close to the tracks blocking any amazing vistas. If you have the money you can opt for the 'Hiram Bingham' luxury train, which is supposed to be really nice, but because of the brevity of the trip it does not seem worth it. I think the only downside of the cheap train is that you aren't supposed to bring as much baggage, although this doesn't seem to be enforced. Plus, most hotels in Ollanta (and probably Cuzco) will let you check your baggage with them, and you can pick it up when you return from Machu Picchu.

Peru Vacation: Chapter Tres

Date: Sat, May 24, 2008 at 5:02 PM
Subject: Lake Titicaca, the Floating Islands of the Uros, Tequile Island, Awesome Train Ride, and Cuzco-Part 1

Last chapter discussed Arequipa, the Colca Canyon, and myriad descriptions of us cheating death (i.e. ravenous condors, near van-over-cliff plunges, altitude sickness, and a perilous drive from Juliaca to Puno. We had arrived to the shores of Lake Titicaca expecting the worst considering that it is even higher in altitude than the Colca Canyon, but we were happy to be wrong. At it's worst, altitude sickness was so bad that Gerson didn't even notice (or just didn't want to move) when the wall of the Arequipa restaurant we were in caught on fire, but by the time we reached Puno it seemed as if we had already experienced the worst. What was once a sharp, intense pain was now just a constant slight headache which was easily managed with coca tea and Tylenol.

The Uros Islands...floating souvenir stands:

Out tour of the lake began at 7:30AM...which meant that we would actually get to sleep in a bit more than we had in previous days. We ate a quick breakfast and headed out for our hotel's pier. On our way to the pier, we observed about 15-20 guinea pigs (also called "cuy") grazing, lounging, and humping. I had noticed that cuy was on the menu at out hotel and I wondered if I would be allowed to pick which cuy I wanted from the lawn for the next night’s supper. I snapped a few photos of some of the prospects, thinking it could make for a cool before (adorable) and after (delicious meal) side by side photo shot.

We met our boat, and were happy to see that a young British couple I had befriended on the ride from the airport were to be joining us for our latest adventure. We set sail and after about 20-30 minutes of picking up other passengers and winding through seemingly never ending beds of reeds, we arrived at the Uros Islands. The Uros Islands are literally floating islands constructed out of the reeds that grow in abundance in the shallow part of Lake Titicaca. Each island is probably 120 x 120 feet with 2-3 families living in huts made out of...you guessed it....more reeds. Supposedly, the Uros people did not want to work for the Inca, and were banished from the land. Interpreting this ruling literally, the Uros left Inca land for Inca water. I am not sure if the Uros thought that move would be funny, or if this was just simply a sign of the stubbornness/laziness...but the more we observed the Uros people...it seems more that latter.

Whatever the Uros Islands might have been....today they are nothing but floating souvenir stands. A tour of their islands consists of a brief demonstration on how the islands and their boats (also made out of reeds) are constructed, followed by 10-15 minutes of "free time" on the island (the entire island can be seen adequately in 10-15 seconds). Your free time is spent trying not to make eye contact with any of the Uros, because if you do, they will beg to you in the most pathetic sounding voices a mixture of Spanish, English, and Quechua (the language of the Incas) with the intent of making you feel bad for them so that you will by their over priced souvenirs. They put on this whole facade of being these poor people banished to these terrible islands, but in reality, they chose to live their today not because they don't want to work for the Inca (who are long gone), but because in fact they don't want to work at all. They use mostly cheap tricks, like having their children beg you to buy things that they 'made in school', with a few really good business tactics (like inflating their prices because their is no other competition near by....you are in the middle of Lake Titicaca after all). And if that were not bad enough, they insist that you let them paddle you around in one of their reed boats, and then ask for 5 Nuevo Soles in the middle of the ride (they never said what would happen if you didn't pay up). Even worse, on your reed boat adventure, it turns out that several of the Uros children have stowed away and gone for the ride. The children proceed to sing to you in 6-7 different language from around the world (English, Italian, french, to name a few), and then...like they are also probably taught in school...they walk around the boat demanding tips. The reed boat ride ends with you landing on another island, where more Uros are floating on more reeds, trying to sell you the same crap you had just seen (and probably already bought if you have trouble saying "no" to a kid on the verge of tears) on the first island.

While floating islands sounded like a cool thing to see, all agreed that we never wanted to see them again and that we would discourage others from falling into the same trap. We were incredibly happy to be on our way away from the Uros for good.

On to Tequile Island:

Having left the Uros in our wake (and secretly hoping our wake maybe sank their crappy islands), we were on to an island in the traditional sense, in that it was directly anchored to the Earth. It took about 1.5 hours to reach Tequile Island, during which we had plenty of time to take in the spectacular views around us. In the distance we could see huge, snow capped Bolivian mountains, and closer to us along the coast of the lake were several smaller hills with tiny farming communities. Aside from our tour boat and a few others, there was hardly any other traffic on the entire lake. No jet skis, no parasailing, no speed boats. The sky above was full of deep blues, stark whites...no air traffic to be seen or heard. It really was neat to be somewhere in the world that has not yet been molested by those nuances. Peaceful would be an understatement.

We arrived at Tequile Island, docked, and then to much dismay told that we had to hike up to the main square. To Gerson and I this hike was easy compared to what we had experienced a day or two earlier in the Colca Canyon, but it proved to be difficult to most of our group. Upon arriving at the main plaza we were treated to a neat display...a parade that marched by that rapidly developed into a huge celebration. It turned out that it was a holiday on Tequlie Island, and although I couldn't tell you what the occasion was it was a neat spectacle involving a marching band, people in costumes/masks, cows, dancing, and lots of beer. We met up with the rest of our group, and made our way to lunch...a choice of an omelet or Titicaca trout. As you know, I am no fish eater, but I figured that I may never have an opportunity to eat Lake Titicaca trout, so I went for it. To my surprise, it was not bad at all, and I washed it down with a tea made out of munya...a minty herb also known to fight altitude sickness. During our lunch, our tour guide (perhaps the best we encountered on our trip) explained how and why the Islanders dress the way they do (to convey if they are married, single, officials, etc).

After lunch, we hiked back down to the boat, and cruised back to our hotels. We were back to our room by 5PM and decided to eat a light dinner at the resort, thinking that the city of Puno still might not be a safe place for us to be. Before going to bed I took a stroll back to the pier to spend some alone time with the Lake. Never before had I seen so many stars in the sky, and among those stars were some that I never could have seen if I had wanted to, since they are unique to the Southern Hemisphere. While I no longer had the familiar "North Star", that night I picked out the legendary "Southern Cross" on the horizon. We woke up the next morning to the sounds of a train whistle...a good sign because we were to take the train to Cuzco that day, and the tracks had been blocked due to the strikes for the past two days. Everything in Puno was back to normal. Taxis and buses were running again, and we were easily able to make our way to the train station.

Riding that Train, High on Cocaine (technically only buzzed from a tea made out of leaves from the same plant used to make cocaine...but that doesn't make for a catchy sub-heading):

I honestly wasn't expecting much out of our train ride...in my head I envisioned something like a New York City Subway, except maybe our train wouldn't smell like urine because it might actually have a bathroom on it. We were greeted by a staff of young Peruvians wearing navy blue trench-coat uniforms. They ushered us onto the train and to our seats. In total, our train consisted of 5 cars, an engine, a kitchen car, a lounging/dining car, a bar, and an open air observation car. The whole thing was rather elegant. We had wondered if there would be food, and indeed in turned out there was to be a meal made up of 4 or 5 courses.

Our ride got off to a rough start, we had to make our way through the awful town of Juliaca again, but this time it was not as terrifying as we felt less vulnerable in a locomotive than the easy targets that were our vans 2 nights before. The daylight made it even more obvious how desolate and difficult the lives of the Juliaca people must be. We were happy to leave it behind us...and as Juliaca became a tiny grayish/brownish blip on the horizon, we were treated to some more great views of the lake, which turned into great views of the country side, which turned into spectacular views of huge mountains on either side of us. As we passed through tiny towns and villages, children would wave to us and stray dogs would chase us.

In total, our train ride lasted around 10 hours, and if viewing the scenery weren't distraction enough, to pass the time we were treated to a live musical performance by a 4 piece traditional Peruvian folk band (plus a dancer), a fashion show, and a "How to make a Pisco Sour" demonstration by the bartender, followed by a "How to Drink a Few Pisco Sours in Rapid Succession" demonstration by me. The train also stopped at one point (about 14,720 feet in elevation) to allow people to get out and walk around at a market....which proved too difficult for one old Brit who needed bottled oxygen to recover from his excursion.

While the Peruvian countryside was beautiful, we were ready to be in Cuzco and were happy when city lights began to pierce the darkness outside. Now, instead of children waving at our train, they threw rocks, and the girls getting out of school blew us kisses. It was nice to return to civilization whether the natives were happy to see us or not. We were picked up at the train station, transferred to our hotel, greeted with more coca tea (it would have been impolite to refuse), and moved into our room. Our room was on the corner of the building, small, and awkward. To get into then shower, one had to contort their body to maneuver past the sink and above the unusually high rim of the tub.

We were in Cuzco....the capital of the Inca Empire, and now only days away from seeing some ruins up close, including Machu Picchu. I don't recall what I ate that night...but I had not forgotten about those adorable guinea pigs near Titicaca and I scoped out a few places around the central plaza that were serving it.

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Additional Details:

Puno/Titicaca Hotel:
Sonesta Posadas Del Inca
Sesquicentenario 610
Tele: 5151-364111
http://www.sonesta.com/LakeTiticaca/

Extremely nice hotel and not terribly unaffordable. Right on the lake, great food, clean, and well managed.

Train Ride:
'The Andean Explorer' on Peru Rail. Fork over the extra soles and make sure you get Tourist class. I'm sure it's no Orient Express, but it's probably the most enjoyable train ride most people will ever take in their lives, and the scenery is supposedly some of the best you'll see on any train ride in the world!

Cuzco Hotel:
Hotel Ruinas
Calle Ruinas N' 472
Cusco, Peru
Tele: (51) 84-260644
http://www.hotelruinas.com
info@hotelruinas.com

Despite my complaints about the bathroom layout, this place is really nice! Awesome location, beautifully decorated, and also great service. We stayed here when we returned from Machu Picchu and that time around, absolutely nothing to complain about!

Peru Vacation: Chapter Dos

Date: Wed, May 21, 2008 at 5:05 PM

Subject: Chapter Dos - Colca Canyon, Arequipa, and Puno

So we last left off in Arequipa with Gerson suffering from altitude sickness, chronic diarrhea (because he ate some sketchy sandwiches in Nazca....which smelled good, but I declined), and a cold....which left me exploring Arequipa on my own. Arequipa is a beautiful city nestled between mountains and three active volcanoes and is called the white city because many buildings are made of ash stones taken from these volcanoes. The people in Arequipa do not consider themselves Peruvians...they are better than that...they are 'Arequipenians'.

Colca Canyon....and Altitude Suckiness:

We set out for the Colca Canyon, I believe the second deepest canyon in the world, and home of the Andean Condor. Gerson almost didn't go, but decided that if he didn't...he might start feeling better and would hate himself for not braving it. We got picked up at our hotel at 2:30AM, and spent 45 minutes wandering around Arequipa looking for our remaining passengers. Eventually, we found them, and were off to the canyon. The trip there lasted about 4 hours, I know this because every hour on the hour, Gerson demanded Pepto Bismal (more like he grunted...."I need more")...and he did that four times. We stopped in a town called Chivay and ate a really bland breakfast of bread and coca tea. Suddenly, the urge to use the restroom hit me...luckily I checked first...as this was to be my first encounter with a toilet lacking both toilet paper and a toilet seat. Again, lucky me I had packed some toilet paper in my backpack, but neglected to bring an extra seat. I began to fear that I was coming down with one of Gerson's diseases.

We left Chivay and began out tour of the Colca Canyon....we stopped in a number of tiny villages. I was approached by a few people (Peruvian tourists I believe) wanting to take photos with me...I obliged...but in hind sight should have demanded 5 Nuevo Soles (the Peruvian currency) as the villagers often to if you snap a photo of them. As we drove on, the canyon got deeper, the potential plunge for our bus over the side of the canyon became larger (and in Peru guard rails are near non existent), and for some reason our driver insisted on keeping the edge of his tires as close to the edge as possible even though there was an entire road (I believe its a game he plays to make his day interesting since he probably does this tour every day). We stopped a few more times to admire the view below (farms, river, and Inca terraces), the view above (mountains, and Inca burial caves)....and finally reached Cruz del Condor, where we spent an hour watching the giant condors soar above. The condors have a wing span of about 6-9 feet, are black/brown, and have a white head. They rarely if ever flap their wings, instead they glide on the thermal columns and canyon winds. The sight seemed truly breathtaking...but in reality it was our altitude that was depriving me of oxygen....so much so that I began to develop a headache, similar to that which Gerson had been experiencing the previous day.

We left Cruz del Condor...made a few more canyon stops, and then returned to Chivay for lunch. First though, part of the tour went to some thermal springs, while Gerson, myself, and two Israeli women were lead on a "gentle" hike for some more canyon views. What should have been an easy hike was very difficult....we found ourselves out of breath, fatigued, and sick of the god damn canyon by now. At this point my headache was a 7 out of 10, with 10 being the worst I have ever felt in my life. I didn't have much appetite, but got some food down, drank some more coca tea (the rumored cure for altitude sickness and many other ailments), and even chewed on some coca leaves that a nice Peruvian woman who happened to be on our tour offered me...in return, I had to take a photo with her daughter...fair enough. After lunch, and after some tiny and adorable canyon children attempted to take Gerson's camera from him, our bus began its climb out of the canyon and back towards Arequipa. As the bus climbed, the headache intensified. At one point, I recall the tour guide saying that we were at the highest point of our journey, about 13,000 above sea level, and offered to let us out to take some photos. At this point, my headache was a 12 out of 10. It felt like there was an angry man inside of my head with a jackhammer....and when I managed to open my eyes, everything looked hazy...I thought this was the end. Amazingly, as the bus descended back to Arequipa, my headache began to subside, and I was able to enjoy the sights of alpaca and vicuna grazing in the fields around us. By the time we got back to Arequipa (around 6 PM), I felt about 96% better, and ate some Peruvian pizza...not anywhere near as good as NY pizza, but definitely better than CA pizza.

Last day in Arequipa?:

The next morning I felt 100% better, re-energized, and hungry. We stopped at a bakery and ate some delicious croissant-like pastries that had a caramel-like filling and drank some more coca tea. I am glad that bakery is in Peru and not SoCal...because I would probably stop there everyday. It was time to leave Arequipa for Puno.

We checked out of our hotel, caught a cab, and were on our way. I was sad to leave Arequipa...it really is a beautiful city and we could have used another day or two there. I thought I was going to get my wish when we approached a police road block. Our cabby explained that there was a protest scheduled for that day, and that in "this part of town (near the airport), protest sometimes get violent". We locked our doors, closed our windows, and began to fear that we were not going to make our flight. The police redirected us (so that we ended up driving on the wrong side of the divided street), and at some point we crossed back onto the airport road. A siren wailed behind us, and it occurred to us that we were now being pulled over. We stopped for a few minutes, and then continued towards the airport with a police escort. We got to the airport, checked in, and had some time to watch a huge police helicopter land and heavily armed men jumping , boarding our flight and getting the hell out of Arequipa just in time.

Juliaca....makes Livingston Manor look like Paradise:

Our flight lasted a whopping 30-40 minutes...pretty much the entire time climbing since Puno/Lake Titicaca is even higher in elevation than Arequipa. We arrived at the Juliaca airport which is supposed to be a 30 minute ride from Puno. From the air, Juliaca looked terrible, and from the ground....terrible is simply an understatement. Being the seasoned travelers we now thought ourselves to be, I thought it would be cool to try to haggle a lower fare from Juliaca to Puno. But we were quick to fork over our Nuevo Soles when we realized that it was either this ride (and whatever fare they demanded), or being stranded at the airport. This was because the same strike in Arequipa was also in effect for the next 24 hours in the rest of southern Peru. There were no taxis to be fetched, no buses to catch. There was just one renegade tour company who crossed the picket line and was offering rides. Gerson and I got separated between vans. People were squeezed inside, and luggage piled high on the roofs of the 4-5 vans. Our convoy left the airport, then proceeded to take the most non-direct route through Juliaca (to avoid road blocks and angry natives we were to find out). Juliaca was filthy...everything was either grey or brown in color. Most roads were dirt and would either have huge holes in them, or random piles of rocks/debris. Houses either had broken or boarded up windows. Litter, garbage, and who knows what else lined the streets...I have never in all my life seen such poverty. It felt like we were driving in circles, and every now and then a different van would take the lead of the convoy. A woman who worked for the renegade agency was barking orders to the other vans through her cell phone....if you have ever seen the movie "Black Hawk Down", about the American-Somalia conflict...it felt like we were in it.

We finally got on the main road to Puno...but we drove slowly because the locals had lined the roads with rocks in an attempt to curb traffic of any kind (other than foot or donkey). We could see the lights of Puno in the distance...but they just never seemed to get closer. We finally did reach Puno (which was also on strike), and began dropping off people at their hotels. At some point, it occurred to me that one of my bags had gone missing in the chaos...which somehow didn't surprise me...but left me a little irked. But all things considered I felt lucky to have anything at all. It turned out, as a local resident explained, that people were protesting because they were upset about inflation...they do not understand why their food prices are going up, and can not comprehend that it's actually a global problem. I can't blame them for being upset...and for me to lose a bag full of clothes and a few other items really just did not seem that tragic considering the difficult circumstances that these people live with...that to them seem to be getting even worse.

I finally re-united with Gerson at the hotel, my missing bag turned up, and we scheduled our tour of Lake Titicaca for the next day. Our hotel was amazing, perhaps one of the nicest I have ever stayed at, but the disparity between what we had just witnessed compared to our new temporary lake view living/sleeping quarters was a bit striking. My dinner that night was alpaca steak over a gnocchi in a cream sauce with an Inka Cola. It was delicious.

Things not to take for granted anymore:

1) Oxygen

2) Toilet Seats

3) Toilet Paper

4) Good plumbing (the kind where you can flush toilet paper down)

Lessons Learned:

1) As much as we can complain about gas and food prices...there are plenty of people who have it a lot worse then we can even imagine.

2) Apparently I am some sort of rock star in Peru and will be gracing a few photo albums as some random Gringo.

3) French people suck, young British folks are cool, and older British folks are hilarious in that they 'keep it real'. Seriously, they can say the most heinous thing and it sounds so pleasant in their accent.

Next chapters....Lake Titicaca, an awesome train ride, Cuzco, and Machu Picchu. To be continued.

Love,

Matt

----------------------

Additional Details:

Arequipa Hotel:
Crismar Hotel
Tele: 215290
http://www.crismarhotel.com

crismar@terra.com.pe

Not the most luxurious hotel I'm sure, but a great price and we felt safe. Arequipa was by far the coolest city we visited in Peru (yes...even cooler than Cuzco) so you'll probably not want to spend too much time in your hotel anyway. This place has great location neat the Plaza and is really close to 'La Canasta"....

Best Breakfast:
La Canasta
Jerusalen 115
Arequipa, Peru

Coffee was good, and there was this croissant like pastry stuffed with manejar...to die for! Also nearby, while we are talking about sweets, track down a place called 'Fab. de Chocolates La Iberica S.A.' located at Jerusalen 136 for some amazing chocolates!

Renegade Puno Tour Company:
Rossy Tours
Tele: 051-366709

rossytours@yahoo.es

http://www.rossytours.tk

Seriously, these folks came to our rescue. While others were busy striking, this company saw an opportunity to capitalize on the situation and also recognized that despite the economic woes people were facing, tourism is a saving grace that shouldn't be discouraged.

Peru Vacation: Survival

Date: Wed, May 21, 2008 at 3:34 PM
Subject: Summit and still alive

We made it to the top of Huyana Picchu, the mountain that towers over Machu Picchu...Gerson and I were numbers 10 and 11 to set out on the trek, and were numbers 2 and 3 to reach the top of the mountain. We made a friend, Santiago from Ecuador, who beat us by 15 seconds...we had a good five minutes before anyone else began to show up at the top..and no joke...a stray dog, and perhaps the coolest in all of Peru, was #5 to the summit.

Love,

Matt

Peru Vacation: Chapter Uno

Date: Mon, May 12, 2008 at 8:36 AM
Subject: Chapter Uno - Arrival to Lima, Sandboarding in Huacachina, Paracas, Ballestas Islands, and the Nazca Lines.

We have arrived in Arequipa....I am feeling fine but now Gerson is feeling the effects of Mancha Panca's revenge and altitude sickness so he is resting.

So far...

Day 1:

Arrived in Lima, got picked up by a man holding a sign that read "Mathews Fox"....close enough. We had an exciting (read terrifying) trip from the airport to the hotel in Lima. Although in Peru we drive on the right hand side, we spend most of our time in the oncoming lane (or creating our own) passing slower cars. Red lights are mere suggestions to stop, and cars have the right of way, not people (I actually like that rule). The taxi was expensive ($20), but worth it I guess. Out hotel was nice but very American ($88 a night plus a mini bar with $3.50 bottled water). The beds were hard (7 on a scale of 10 with 10 being concrete) Gerson arrived around 1:30AM...we fell asleep, and then at 7:00 while he was in the shower his aunt dropped by so I got to hang out with her for a bit. Most of our time was spent trying to explain to one another that while we could read the other's language well...we weren't so good at speaking. The rest of the morning we spent stopping at various places to see other relatives (aunts, cousin, and even Grandpa). We got dropped off at a bus station and were off to Ica.

Day 2-4

We arrived in Ica, and the firs thing we did was purchase our tickets out of Ica. A nice security guard at the station suggested we stay in Huacachina and called us a cab. That's when we made our first friend William. William drove us to the oasis of Huacachina, hooked us up with a hostel, and helped us arrange our dune buggy/sand boarding, and Paracas adventures. We had the entire hostel to our selves, including a sweet pool. The only drawback is that the hostel was owned by a family, and they seemed to go to bed early, so we had to as well. Food in Huacachina was cheap and alright...I had some chaufa de pollo (chicken fried rice), lomo saltado, and some pollo de chicharon (aka fried chicken), as well as some continental breakfasts. Probably the best offerings were the fresh pineapple and papaya juices.

Our first adventure was sand dune buggying and sand boarding. Sand dune buggying was neat, and was basically like riding a roller coaster with no track and with gasoline flying into your face every now and then. We caught a little air, and our driver Ricardo was cool about stopping to let us take photos. The highlight though was when he would stop on top of a huge dune, we'd hop out, and ride down on boards. Apparently, I have monster feet by South American standards so I did not get a cool "professional" board with bindings like Gerson. Instead, mine was more like a plank with Velcro straps. I elected to ride down on my stomach since the board didn't feel very secure. Gerson manned up and rode down like a true boarder...and his only complaint was that he didn't go fast enough.

Later, we rented boards and decided to set out on foot. In the desert distances are deceiving. It took us about an hour to climb a dune, and in hindsight there were a lot of things we could have done better to make our ascent more bearable (not go at noon when its hottest, walk up less steep parts of the dune for example). We eventually made it, took some photos, enjoyed the scenery, and then with Gerson's encouragement we both boarded down, with me standing this time. I wiped out a few times, but eventually got it. After one run, we were tired and done for the day.

The next day we did Paracas and the Ballestas Islands. We saw the "candelabra" which is a huge sand sculpture that can be viewed off the coast, and then saw more birds, bird shit, sea lions, penguins, and other creatures that you could ever imagine...even if you could imagine the sight (from my photos), the smell could never really be described. Hopefully in the future, cameras will be able to capture stench as well. The Ballestas were amazing. Upon arriving back at port, we witnessed some stray dogs humping (there are more stray dogs than owned dogs in Peru). We also ate some really good bananas (that may have come back to haunt me later) We returned to Huacachina, chilled, checked out, and left Ica for Nazca...a 2-3 hour bus ride.

Day 5-6

Arrived is Nazca. Our taxi driver/tour arranger from Huacachina set us up with his amigo don Fernando who greeted us at the bus station and drove us to his hostel. This hostel was really nice, but again, we were sort of locked in at night. The next morning we flew over the Nazca lines, but prior to that I had a short but violent bout of Mancha Panca's revenge (those god damn delicious bananas from Paracas I am betting). The pilot and I talked about flying and he let me preflight with him. The plane looked safe, and ultimately was since I am pretty sure we survived. The flight was very smooth, and although I don't believe my pictures came out well...the lines were amazing. We finished early and then had to kill about 12 hours in Nazca...which is easier said than done. In the course of those hours, I ate some anticuchos (beef heart skewers), chorizos, and other parts of a cow that I probably never have tasted before...all was delicious. We then sat in the town's central plaza for a few hours just taking in the sights (a Peruvian transsexual that declared me to be it's "amor" and sat on my lap before I knew what was happening...it also felt up Gerson's chest), and sounds (dogs barking and horns constantly honking). As darkness approached we headed back to the hostel where it was safer and spent a few more hours before heading to the bus station where we spent a few more hours. By the time our bus to Arequipa left (10:30PM), we both were feeling pretty insane. Our conclusion is that the ancient Nazca civilization drew the lines in the desert out of sheer boredom and insanity, and that there mysterious disappearance was likely a mass suicide because they couldn't figure out any other way to get out of Nazca....we were close to following their lead, but eventually we boarded the bus and were on our way.

The overnight bus was ok....slept a little, ate a disgusting sandwich, but eventually arrived in Arequipa at 7 AM. That leads us to right now...I feel fine, Gerson has had his own visit from Mancha Panca and is also experiencing altitude sickness....thus he is resting as I write this. It's definitely colder here, but looks beautiful.


Other random observations:

Peruvian bus tickets are confusing, and never to be believed.
Stray dogs in the cities are friendly, stray dogs in the country are mean.
Dogs are smarter here...they know how to cross roads and not get run over.
Continental breakfasts will always leave you hungry and wanting more.

I will try to post some pictures.

Please forgive my typos...

Love,

Mateo

-------------------

Additional Details:

Huacachina Hotel: Hotel Curasi right at the only entrance to Huacachina. Nice pool, hard beds, friendly owners and quiet.

Best taxi driver/tour arranger: William - ask for him by name, I'm pretty anyone in town will know who you mean. I think William (and dune buggy chauffeur Ricardo) are independent, but work closely with a company called 'Desert Peru' based in Huacachina:

Desert Peru
Tele: +51-056-215401 / 256264
Mobil: +51-056-9682045 / 9629800
http://www.desertperu.com


Nazca Hotel:
Hostal Camiluz
Av. Reiche 304
Nazca
Tele: (056) 523871
http://www.hostalcamiluznasca.com

Peru Vacation: Arrival

Date: Wed, May 7, 2008 at 9:14 PM
Subject: ¡Estoy en Peru!

I have arrived and am at the hotel. Gerson should be here in an hour or so. The keyboard is difficult to use, but it has a sweet button that allows me to make an ñ....so I guess I can get used to it. The trip from the airport to here was insane...there is no such thing as road lanes, but they do know what horns are and are really good at using them.....flights were good...I already made a friend.... a lady in her 60´s that is a grandmother and will be hiking the Inca trail up to Machu Picchu....for a grandma..that’s pretty hardcore I think...but she told me of lots of places she has traveled as a flight attendant and said that if anyone wants to go anywhere....I should let her know and she can make some good suggestions.

Anyhow...the hotel is beautiful, I am tired, and the bar is closed :-( ...so think I will call it a night. I will shoot an email next time I get a chance.

Lo siento about all the typos....

Love you all!

Mateo

-----------------

Additional Details:

Lima Hotel: Boulevard Hotel & Casino in Miraflores District of Lima
http://www.hotelboulevard.com.pe/
Av. Pardo Nº 771 Miraflores Lima 18 - Perú Telf.: (511)444-6562 (511)444-6563