I was ready to leave Huaraz, but.......

Originally tonight was supposed to be my last in Huaraz. After 5 weeks in and around this place, I was finally ready to move on, heading out with my friends Jim and Gladys to the village of Tantamayo and the surrounding Yarowilca ruins. However, the Peruvian governement kindly stepped in and delayed my departure, lacing the entire country under house arrest from 8am to 6pm on Sunday. Why? A national census, moron. According to the National Police, anyone seen on the street during the selected time period will be fined and any business found open will be fined and closed for a period of time. Really, I wish the US governement had enough balls to do stuff like this. Instead, their too busy checking on the library records of their citizens, even though only those under the age of 12, parents of said children and old people actually have a library card these days. As a result of the Peruvian government insisting on knowing how many people actually live within its borders, Jim, Gladys and I have delayed our trip until Monday morning. So it goes. In the meantime I will be attending Javier´s birthday party tonight and rock climbing with Dennis, Paul and Becs tomorrow. Life could be worse.

The ruins of Chavin de Huantar

After spending the better part of three days trekking from Olleros (which you should have already read about if you actually care about me), the gate leading to the ruins of Chavin de Huantar was a welcome sight. As planned, I had risen early enough in the morning that even after a 3 hour walk, I was the first visitor to actually set foot on the grounds, which was especially nice considering that by 1 or 2 in the afternoon hundreds of people, many of them fat but not necessarily American, are crawling all over the grounds like ants on an abandoned Astropop. Right.

Scholars seem to agree that the ruins at Chavin date back to at least 900BC. The complex at Chavin de Huantar represented the center of Chavin culture, which was profoundly influential throughout much of what is modern day Peru and became an important part of the Incan empire and it´s culture, which the Chavin pre-date handily. In fact, some estimates put approximately 60% of the so-called Inca roads as actually originally being of Chavin construction and then adopted by the Incas when they overtook the Chavin empire. While that estimate might be a little high or low, the point is that the Chavin built a lot of infrastructure. A pretty good timeline from the Metropolitan Museum of Art can be found here, and a good site for exploring the general layout of the complex here. Since I don´t have any pictures, I´m just going to focus on some general impressions that I had of the site, and let you explore it in more detail if you´re interested.

Ahvin de Huantar existed, as far as scholars can tell, as a massive spiritual complex and center of power for the large Chavin population that inhabited the surrounding valleys. While there is some debate as to how large this population was and where there main residence centers were located, the last day´s walk from Olleros brings one past literally hundreds of dwellings and several towns scattered along the river valley. It is not hard to imagine that thousands of people inhabited this and the neighboring valleys before the downfall of the Incan and Chavin empires. What was especially impressive to me is that many of the people that I met and saw on my trek were undoubtedly direct descendants of the Chavin, their ancestors having lived in those same valleys, used those same valleys and pasture lands for literally thousands of years. Awe inspiring.

Immediately upon arriving at the ruins I was impressed by their sheer size. Although much of the complex was buried by a rock slide in 1972, what has been dug up or remained above ground is impressive nonetheless. For instance, the main wall surrounding the grounds stands over 10m high, which is pretty damn high, especially when everything is built with gigantic blocks of stone. This outer wall was originally adorned with gigantic carved stone heads, approximately half a meter tall, depicting the transformation of a temple priest into some sort of feline form. Unfortunately, only one of these heads remains on site as it was originally installed, but one can still imagine how intimidating it would have been to approach the temple walls and see these terrifying faces staring down.
Despite how much is located above ground, the majority of Chavin de Huantar is to be found underground in a system of tunnels, labyrinths and chambers. This was the case even before the rock slide struck and buried the ruins, as the main features of the temples were said subterranean constructions. Iconography alluding to the ritual use of the San Pedro cactus by the priests at Chavin abounds. The San Pedro cactus contains a very high concentration of the potent hallucinogen mescalin and by slicing up the cactus and then boiling it for several (on the order of 12 or so) hours, a mucus like hallucinogenic brew is concocted. In fact, some of the heads that formally adorned the outer wall at Chavin featured great streams of mucus trailing from the nostrils of the cat/priest, an allusion to the use of San Pedro. Some theorize that the tunnel systems existed as a complex sort of spiritual initiation device where priests or citizens souped up on San Pedro would be placed within to wander around. In evidence of this are the complete lack of any carbon deposits from the use of torches in the tunnels. Although there is no outside light in the tunnels, the extreme optical dilation that ingesting the San Pedro brew causes would have allowed those within the tunnels to see and move within almost complete darkness. Not that I´ve ever done intense hallucinogens, but if I did I would prefer not to be trapped in a complex underground labyrinth. Thanks, but no thanks.

While exploring the tunnel system, I ran into an American whose been living in Chavin for the past few years. He showed me around pointing out some of the more interesting bits and then brought me to an entrance branching off of one of the main arteries with stone steps leading down into the darkness (many of the tunnels, especially those accessible by tourists, are lit). I gave him a puzzled look and he handed me a flashlight and told me to go ahead and take a look. I looked him over first, just to check my initial assumption that I could take him in hand to hand combat if need be, and then heading down into the black. A dozen or so steps led down into another section of the tunnels and at first I couldn´t figure out what he wanted me to see, and then I realized: the tunnels here were much taller than those above, almost twice as high in fact. While the other tunnels had been excavated by archaeologists, they had never bothered to dig all the way down to the original floor. On the other hand, this section was found completely intact, and showed the full scale of the construction. It doesn´t sound like much, but the difference between a 6 foot and 10 foot tunnel is substantial, and the latter is quite impressive.

The highlight of Chavin de Huantar is undoubtedly the large stone sculpture known as the Lanzon. Although its current name is derived from its lance-like shape, most scholars now agree that it´s strange shape was most likely meant to elicit that od the traditional foot-plow used across the Andes. The sculpture, which is nearly 10m in height, is carved with the image of the principle anthropomorphic deity of Chavin, which is part cayman, part bird and part monster. You´re probably wondering why the deity takes the form of the cayman, a massive jungle reptile, when Chavin is located high in the Andes. That´s one of the mysteries of the Chavin, and whether it´s simply because there domain encompassed the amazon basin or that they migrated from the lowlands we´ll never really know. Anyway, the Lanzon is absolutely massive and the skill with which it was carved is breathtaking. The top, notched portion of the statue sits in a slit in the ceiling that is open to the roof of the temple above while the bottom, blade portion extends into the ground below. The chamber in which the Lanzon is found is cruciform in shape, the only such chamber in Chavin. An odd channel is grooved into the stone, starting on the top of the sculpture running down the front of the notch and then ending in a cup shaped depression above the deity´s head. The theory is that blood from human sacrifices performed on the temple roof above would be poured into the groove on the top of the statue, from where it would flow into the cup shaped depression and then over the image of the deity itself. This seemingly outlandish theory was supported by the discovery of several human skeletons and skulls, apparently from sacrificed victims, arranged in ritualistic patterns in some of the tunnels and chambers. In fact, due to marks and breaks on some of the bones, it is believed that ritualistic cannibalism was performed on site. Charming and fascinating.

Besides those meant for human initiation, sacrifice, whatever, an unknown number of tunnels engineered for ventilation and drainage criss-cross the Chavin complex, going under and through the temples and plazas. While engineered out of necessity due to the region´s wet climate and man insisting on breathing air, even when whacked out on San Pedro and wandering around tunnels, these more utilitarian constructions could serve more interesting purposes as well. For instance, when walking across one of the main plazas one has to be careful not to fall into one of several square, stone lined holes in the ground. At first these holes seem completely random, but upon closer observation one notices that all are of different depths and intersect drainage tunnels at different levels. It turns out that these holes were part of a sort of water organ, which would make different sounds based on the depth and size of the hole as well as the amount of water flowing through the tunnel below. Yep, these people were smart, industrious and intent on making the most intense cactus trip known to man.

That pretty much wraps up the observations that I´ve got about Chavin de Huantar. Definitely worth the trip, even if it did take me three days. Still, if that´s not your cup of tea you can always just take the 3 hour bus ride from Huaraz.

Until next time.............

Getting a new look and resting my 70 year old hip

Well, I was all set up to head out on a solo trek from Olleros to Chavin de Huantar today, but alas, shit happens and plans change. I didn´t mention it before, but I had already delayed my trek by a day due to waking up with a strange pain in my hip. This would not have concerned me nearly as much if I hadn´t gone out drinking the night before and then slept in a dorm room with Ginger Bender Paul as my only companion. I´m not saying that anything happened while I was asleep, but let´s just say that we´re all a bit suspicious. Anyway, my hip has really hurt the last two days, which I assume is simply from doing so much trekking in so little time with so little rest. So, the trek will have to wait until tomorrow, which means spending a day hanging around Huaraz drinking coffee, maybe heading out to some ruins right outside of town and reading. Life is tough.

My aching, 70 year old arthritic hip and the delay in my plans that it´s caused have had some positive side effects, however. First, it allowed Paul, Dennis and I to get some really nice facial-hair work done and second it gave us, along with Kevin, Caroline and Javier, a nice excuse to go out and have a proper night on the town last night. Okay, we stayed at one bar the entire night and it was only us in the place, but still, it was a good time none the less.
Talk to you soon my friends.

Making some friends and a short trek to Laguna 69

I´ve made some friends since getting back to Huaraz, and my experience here has improved markedly as a result, not that it was ever anything less than absolutely pleasant. Dennis is a bearded Australian of diminutive stature that can talk movies, music and books until your ears fall off, which is just fine by me. Paul is a lanky Englishman with a ginger goatee who enjoys drum n´bass, skateboarding and talking. Again, fine by me. Kevin is another Englishman and I manage to enjoy his company despite the fact that he´s a working engineer. Miracles do happen in this strange world of ours. Caroline is yet another Brit who doesn´t seem to have a negative thing to say about anyone (well, accept for a man that I´ve taken to calling Dead Dog Paul) and manages to listen to the rest of us yap and talk shit incessantly without emitting so much as a growl. A peach without a pit is what she is.

I joined these four new friends and Alexis on a short overnight hike to Laguna 69 (photos are here). Basically we hired a car to the trailhead late one afternoon, camped immediately, tried in vain to start a small fire, drank a bottle of rum, ate pasta with tuna and tomato sauce, had a slightly drunken sleep and then woke up and hike the 2-3 hours to the beautiful, aforementioned laguna. I have no idea how it got the name, but I´ve been telling people that it´s in memory of a certain European explorer´s fateful encounter with a beautiful campesino on the shore and in the shadow of the neighboring mountains. Hey, the story works for me, and anyone that I tell should be intelligent enough that I´m completely full of shit in this instance. Anyway, Laguna 69 and the surrounding environs were absolutely beautiful and well worth every drop of sweat expended in reaching them.

Tomorrow I´ll be setting off into the mountains yet again, this time on a short 3 day trek to the pre-Inca ruins of Chavin de Huantar. Right now it´s up in the air as to whether Dennis and Paul will be joining me or whether I´ll be setting off solo. If the latter occurs, rest assured that the trek is easy, I´m prepared and the area is safe.

Okay, I´m off to get some errands done in preparation for the hike.

Huayhuash

Hello people! It´s been nearly two weeks, but I´m back safe and sound from a beautiful, strenuous, rewarding and, lest I forget, long trek in the Cordillera Huayhuash. This post follows a slightly different format than my previous one describing the Santa Cruz trek. Basically, it was 12 days long so rather than give a narrative of the trek I´ve instead decided to describe some of the highlights and then let the pictures do the talking. So, read on for a rambling, somewhat disjointed but hopefully entertaining and informative description of some of my most recent escapades.

First, the pictures

Go to this link. I´m constantly updating the album with more photos and captions when I have the time, so check back even if you´ve already gone.

Overview: ummmm........what the hell is Huayhuash?

The Cordillera Huayhuash is a mountain range within the Andes to the Southwest of Huaraz. The range includes roughly 35 peaks, with six of them exceeding 6000m, including the grandaddy of the range Yerupaja (6617m). Compared to the Cordillera Blanca where I had done the much shorter Santa Cruz trek, the Huayhuash is much more compact, rugged and isolated. Part of what makes this area so special is that relatively few tourists visit even today, although the numbers are increasing year by year. Still, an almost overwhelming feeling of isolation washes over one when entering the Huayhuash and does not disippate until returning to the relative metropolis of Huaraz.

The trek itself covered right around 160km (I´ve gone metric, so deal with it and use the google conversion feature if you need to) and went over 10 mountain passes ranging in height from 4300m to 5250m. The point I´m trying to convey is that the trek is a haul to say the least. The views of rugged peaks and isolated lagunas are indeed impressive, but they better be as your legs and lungs pay a steep price for every memorable panorama that comes your way, without fail.

My health

Well, color me impressed by the concern of my friends and family when I mentioned that I was sick just before leaving for the Huayhuash. Jordana Kritzer in particular deserves a special shout out as she sent me a message so full of concern and advice that I just had to print it out and take it with me. I actually managed to fully recover from my short bout of illness just in time to take off on the Huayhuash trip without any delay. On the trip itself, I was the picture of health, charging up the passes, eating all the food and having relatively (and I do mean relatively) pleasant bathroom experiences. I even managed to sleep all the way through most nights and had absolutely no recurrence of the minor altitude sickness that plagued me in the Cordillera Blanca. So, I appreciate all of your expressions of concern, but rest assured that my body is chugging right along and seems to be at peace with the thin air, somewhat questionable food and physical exertion that I´m putting it through on a daily basis. YAY!

People

Three other turistas, all females, joined me on the Huayhuash circuit trek. Sadly, two of the aforementioned women turned out to be people that I most definitely do not like. You all should be familiar with my amazing powers of judgement, criticism and shit-talking, so I´ll just leave it at that and move on with my wonderful life. The remaining female turista turned out to be a true gem that goes by the name of Alexis. She´s an American hailing from that city of smog, boob jobs and David Lynch known as Los Angeles, and her and I managed to get along like peanut butter, bananas and honey trapped between two pieces of cheap white bread. Nice, in that analogy the other women would be crappy white bread, which is actually a fitting description. Moving on........In addition to us four gringo tourists, three Peruvians rounded out the group in the role of guide (Eric), cook and assistant guide (Gustavo) and burro driver and general assistant (Chino). Besides making the trip possible, I must say that I now consider all three of these fine young men my friends. Now, how about a short introduction for these guys?

Erik: A twenty-six year old native of Huaraz, Erik has been working as a professional guide for five years. He has two daughters, a wife (who is wonderful according to him) and absolutely no qualms about busting into song at any given time. Also a damn fine player of the Andean flute, which he brought out and played on all too rare occassions. A great guide and a genuinely nice and caring person, my life is better having him as a friend.

Gustavo: An eighteen year old native of Huaraz. Although he speaks almost no english, we were able to develop something of a rapport, and hearing him say my name (pronounce as yoy-ee) never fails to bring a smile to my face. Like Erik, Gustavo has little to no reservations when it comes to singing and dancing and many nights I fell asleep to the sound of his unabashed singing eminating from the cooking tent as he did the dishes before retiring for the night.

Chino: A native of the small village of Llamac that marks the start of the trek, Chino is 28 with a wife and two small daughters. He was the hardest of the three Peruvians to communicate with because Spanish was a second language to both him and I. Also, the cultural divide was definitely the widest with him and it took me a while to accept his bearing, humor, just his way of being, and I think that some of the other people on the trip were never able to get to that point. In the end, I came to recognize him as a funny and easygoing guy, despite how hard it must be to make a living and support a family out in the Huayhuash. Anyway, Chino without a doubt one hell of a burro driver and I will not hesitate to call upon his services again if I ever return to the Huayhuash.

So there´s a brief rundown of who went on the trip. As I already mentioned, one of the best parts of the journey was getting to know the Peruvian guides, especially Erik and Gustavo. In fact, tomorrow night Alexis and I are planning on meeting up with these two and cruising over to Palcio de Cervaza, where Erik and Gustavo assure us that we will have a grand ole´ time dancing the night away with a vast number of Peruvians and few, if any, other gringos. Dance clubs really aren´t my style, but for these guys I´m willing to stretch myself. I promise I will keep you all updated. UPDATE: It didn´t happen as I was absolutely exhausted and suffering from a headache. Instead I ended up hanging out with some guys at the hostel and getting drunk on Ecuadorian rum and Peruvian beer. This is what happens when you have no responsibilities whatsoever.

The most dangerous part of the journey

One would think that the most dangerous portion of the trek would actually take place in the mountains, perhaps while ascending one of the many high passes. However, by far the most dangerous portion of the trip did not occur until after every step had been taken, when we climbed into the small Toyota autobus that would carry us from the village of Llamac, where the trek began and ended, to the larger town of Chiqian.

First of all, this was the most packed autobus I´ve been on yet. Picture a Toyota minivan crammed full of 22 (yes, twenty-two) people and their handheld belongings and then place a 1.5-2m pile of luggage on top. I assure you, these figures are not exagerrations. Then put this groaning straining van on one of the twistiest, steepest and dustiest mountain roads that you´ve ever seen, with numerous log bridge crossings over rivers and streams and 100m drops looming around every corner. Admittedly, this doesn´t seem quite so bad yet. When things really got interesting is when the passengers noticed that not only where the roof support bars loose and rotating, but the roof was bulging inward due to the weight AND the side of the bus was developing large cracks that grew with terrifying creaks and groans whenever the bus lurched over another bump or around another corner. Still not so bad? Well, about halfway through the drive, by which point almost all of the passengers had there arms raised in an attempt to lend the ailing roof additional support, the bus driver stopped to pick up a mother and her small boy. Now, one woman had already gotten off, bringing the total of people to 23, however, the woman could absolutely, positively not fit in the bus. So, do we leave her behind? Of course not you asshole! No, she simply climbed on top of the gigantic pile of luggage sitting on top of the sagging and decrepit roof. Now a suspiciously human-sized extra big lump was invisible from inside the bus and we all looked out the windows anxiously with every sway of the vehicle, fully expecting to see the woman come tumbling down from the roof and careening into the yawning valley waiting below. For the remaining 45 minutes of the trip I had dozens, literally dozens of comedic lines waiting to be delivered. However, since they all revolved around the roof riding woman´s impending doom and her six year old son was leaning against my legs, I decided that it might be best to keep my mouth shut lest he start wailing and take all of the fun out of the journey, which I was in all truth enjoying immensely.

Wow, that´s the former headquarters of the Shining Path

to be continued.......

Joey is an idiot and drops his camera in the hot springs

to be continued........

Alexis gets attacked by a puma

to be continued........

Moving on out

I barely have any time, so this will be short. I´m leaving for the Huayhuash tomorrow morning at 5am and I still have to pack (eek), so you guys won´t be hearing from me for the better part of two weeks. I´m very excited for the trek, especially since I finally got my stomach under control and stocked up on meds.

Today was a great day as I finally managed to catch up with Jim Sykes, who I know from Seattle through the infamous Sid. He´s been living down here full time for the past 4 years and change, so it was great to pick his brain and talk about his experiences. I was bit worried when I first met up with him (I asked the part owner of California Cafe if she knew him and she called his wife and had her send him on down. Awesome.), but we ended up talking for 5 hours straight about nearly everything under the sun (music, birds, bicycles, politics, energy, overpopulation, migration, mountain lions, books, Master and Commander starring Russel Crowe), which should really surprise none of you. When I return from the trek it sounds like him and I will be going on some adventures. Definitely some out of the way ruins to the North and possibly an overnight stay with one of his Quechua friends in one of the mountain villages. Promises to be an interesting blog entry or two, no? In exchange for his hospitality, I´ve offered to help him out with a project that he might need an extra set of hands on in preparation for the rainy season, which officially arrives in 8 days (do the math, and pray that my raingear is still up to par).

Okay my friends, I really have to go. Take care of yourselves while I´m gone, I miss all of you.

I knew this would happen

Well, it happened. I got sick. I came down with a slight fever last night that was gone this morning but left me with a might bit of a stomach ailment (please read between the lines). The main problem is that I can´t keep anything in my system long enough to actually absorb the energy and nutrients, so I´m really weak right now (hence all the internet activity as my fingers still work). I´m a bit concerned considering that I´m supposed to leave for the Huayhuash in 2 more days, but I plan on taking a trip to the pharmacy tonight for some rehydration salts and then resting all day tomorrow.

Oh man, I would sell my soul for a meal from Taqueria y Fonda, the shawarma cart on 120th or Teriyaki USA right now.

4 days of beauty, sickness and pain in the Cordillera Blanca

Well, I made it back safe and sound from my first foray into the Andes, which consisted of 4 days on the Santa Cruz trek. The trek was entirely within the confines of the Cordillera Blanca, which is the highest mountain range in the world outside of Asia, with 33 peaks reaching at least 6000m. Keep the high elevation in the back of your mind, as I´ll be coming back to it a bit later in the post.

The photo to the left, which I did not actually take is of Huascaran in the Cordillera Blanca from the devastated town of old Yungay. The image is fitting in that the people here show the greatest reverence for these formidable peaks.

The party that ventured into the mountains consistd of my friends Tom, Laia and German as well as a Peruvian guide by the name of Vicky and a burro driver by the name of Juan. The first thing that you must understand is that the vast majority of treks that take place in Peru rely on the burro for transporting the bulk of equipment. This felt somewhat odd at first, as I didn´t quite feel right not carrying my own gear. Still, I went with it as opposed to trying to arrange my own all human-powered trek and I do not regret that decision in the least.

The trip got interesting before even setting foot in the mountains, as the group (sans Juan, who would meet us with the burros in the mountains) piled into a public metrobus, which is a glorified term for a tiny, underpowered toyota minivan, circa 1987. The bus appeared to be full as soon as we got on, with all of our gear and equipment being stacked onto an impossibly tall pile on the roof. However, along the 45 minute journey to the town of Yungay (new) we pickedup several more people, until even the driver acknowledged that we were full. How full is full? Try 19 men and women as well as one lamb, which announced its presence on the lap of an elderly Quechua woman 10 minutes into the journey. Ahhhh, public transportation. In Peru!

Despite the crowded conditions, the bus and its smiling inhabitants made it to Yungay safely, where we disembarked to hire a metrobus to take us 3 hours up into the mountains to the town of Vaqueria. But first, we had a slight delay as we waited for another group that would be making the trek joining us on the bus ride to Vaqueria. This gave me a little bit of time to explore the public market of Yungay, which was absolutely amazing. For whatever reason, the Quechua women at this market were dressed to the nines. The colors were magnificently bright, even brighter than normal. Due to my reservations, which I´ve already explained, about taking pictures of these people I don´t have any photos to show. However, Laia had no such reservations in Yungay, so ASAP I will be uploading her pictures of the marketplace (done, as you can see to the left). One thing that I´m sure most of you will find at least somewhat interesting is the picture below. Can you guess what animals those are?

If you guessed guinea pig, then you win the 20 sole prize for the day. Known as cuy (spanish not quechua, I will putup the quechua spelling shortly) these large rodents still represent the primary source of meat for many of the Quechua, living a semi-feral existence in the kitchens of these mountain people, feeding solely on the scraps left about in the kitchen. I must admit that I´m curious, and intend to feast on one of these beady eyed little creatures before leaving the Andes.

The drive up to Vaqueria was quite the event in itself, as the road was unbelievably windy (see pic to the left) and passed the largest and most famous laguna in the region, of which the name I can´t recall. Nonetheless, it´s color, derived from the glacial silt entering from its feeder streams, was the most brilliant turquoise.

The town of Vaqueria was a sight to behold, a gathering of mud brick buildings clinging to the side of the steep mountain valley. The inhabitants seemed remarkably unperturbed by the presence of 12 white people (which despite some variations in skin color we all were) in their small village. In the main building, which appeared to be part residential with some town offices (warning; assumption) below, five girls giggled at the foreigners below. I looked up and waved, and then watched all five heads disappear quickly out of sight below the sill. However, I kept my gaze and sure enough each face slowly returned, smiling.

The first two hours of the trek saw us descend and then climb up the other side the valley in which Vaqueria and it´s annexes lie. This allowed me to see a of how the village and its surrounding farms and pasture land are organized. I won´t go into that here, but if anyone is interested please just post a comment saying so and I will get around to describing the layout, partly from what I´ve observed and partly from what I´ve been reading (Tambo by Julia Meyerson).

Our camp that night was in a broad valley used as rangeland for cattle and horses by the local inhabitants and featured an impressive view of the mountains that we would spending the next 3 days in the midst of. This is probably the appropriate time to mention how fucking amazing the service provided by the guide company (Huascaran Guides) was. Not only did burros carry all except for a small daypack of mine, but the guide , Vicky, carried and served lunch for all of us and prepared breakfast and dinner at the campsite. The meals were nothing to sniff at to be sure. For instance, the first night we dined on thyme soup with queso followed by fresh trout served over fried potatoes with a tomato and avocado salad. Dessert, yes dessert, was in the form of a strawberry yogurt drink. We were also awakened every morning by Juan sticking a steaming cup of coca tea into the tent entrance and placing a basin of hot water to wash in outside. I know, ROUGH.

The picture to the left is the required shot out the tent door at first night´s campsite.

I must mention that at this time I was feeling almost no effects from the altitude, despite sleeping at an elvation of approximately 3800m.

The morning of the second day, we packed up camp and set out what I knew to be the most challenging day, the crux of which would be the 4750m Punta Union pass. As we ambled up the valley for the first 2 hours or so along relatively mild terrain, my headache gradually worsened. 2 hours in, every heartbeat was signaled by a low roar starting at the back of my head near the neck and traveling through every bit of gray matter I posses before crashing in a deafening climax at my temples. All I could think was ¨shit, I´m in for it.¨ Let me just say that the next 2-3 hours are a painful blur in my memory. I came close to succumbing to the rapidly advancing altitude sickness a mere 100 vertical meters from the pass, each step taking an eternity and followed by severe bout of nausea that, surprisingly, never resulted in me vomiting all over myslef and then tumbling unconscious down the mountainside. I can honestly say that I have never endured such physical and mental strain. The worst part is, the Santa Cruz trek is described as easy to moderate in difficulty in every guidebook that you can find. However, each of said guidebooks also mentions that anyone attempting it should make sure to take time to fully acclimate to the elevation before setting out. Apparently 3 days in Huaraz was not enough, and I paid dearly for my haste.

Anyway, I managed to make it through the altitude sickness and got over the pass. YAY! That night we camped at an elevation of 4200m, and I spent most of the night tossing and turning with a massive headache and unbelievably clogged sinuses. I don´t mean to ceaselessly bitch, I´m just trying to convey to everyone just how hard the altitude was to deal with.

The morning of the 3rd day I rose around 6am and immediately set about drinking copious amounts of coca tea, ingested several aspirin and took a glucose tablet to give my body a shot of energy. By 8am, we were on the trail again. Our first stop was a hanging valley about an hour outside of camp, from where we were promised views of Alpamayo, which is famous for its almost perfect pyramid shape. However, on this day clouds blanketed the top half of the peak, obscuring the pyramid that we had climbed to see. Rather than pout, we simply dropped our packs and lounged in the warm sun enjoying the views that we did have and catching up on the rest that was so cruelly withheld from us the night before. Eventually, Vicky suggested that we might take a 3 hour side trek to a laguna that sits at an altitude of 4650m. My initial reaction was simply ¨there is no fucking way that I´m going to climb almost to the same height as Punta Union and risk another bout of altitude sickness just to see some stupid turquoise mountain lake.¨ I was a little discouraged to say the least from my ordeal the day before. However, as the minutes passed I began to reconsider. After all, if I couldn´t pull myself together to do this extra bit of trekking, how would I ever be able to survive the much longer and more arduous trip into the Cordillera Huayhuash that I hoped to emabark on in another 4 or 5 days? When German piped up that he wanted to go see the lake my mind was made up. So, Laia, German, Vicky and I set off towards the laguna while Tom decided to stay behind and take a nap.

Much to my surprise, I felt great climbing up to the Laguna. In fact, after Vicky had estimated that it would take close to an hour and a half to reach the lake we made it quite easily in just under an hour. I could not believe how quickly my body had recovered from and then adapted to the elevation. The laguna itself along with the surrounding mountain peaks and cirque glacier that fed it were pretty impressive. However, for me the best part of the side trip was the confidence that it restored after my stuggles the day before.

After a half hour at the laguna, Laia, Vicky, German and I hiked back down, gathered up Tom who had fallen asleep in the sun and burnt the shit out of his lips (seriously, it was bad, real bad) and began the descent to the campsite for night 3.

Night 3 was relatively uneventful, as all of us were completely exhausted not to mention absolutely sick of the food on the trek. Granted, it´s amazing to have someone cook every meal for you on a trip like this, but after a while the limited offerings of flavors that you´re not used to in the first place really starts to get to you.

Now, I´ve said that night 3 was uneventful, but about 5am on the morning of the 4th day things changed quite dramatically. It all started when Laia woke Tom and I up, asking what meds we had with us and what they were good for. She had woken up shortly before to find German awake in a cold sweat with a very high fever. Of all of us, German was the last person that I thought would get sick. He had consistently been the strongest and most upbeat throughout the trek, always helping to lighten the mood or carry a burden. When I got out of the tent at 7am, German´s condition had not improved, in fact it had worsened with his fever climbing to 40 degC (104 degF). Things were quite tense as we packed up camp as quickly as possible and prepared to travel the final 10km to the village of Cashapampa where a metrobus would be waiting to take us to Huaraz. Since it was out of the question for German to walk the final distance in his state, Juan readied one of the burros for him to ride on. The walk to Cashapampa took somewhere on the order of 3 hours, but it felt much longer. Laia, Tom and I took turns leading the burro that German was riding on as well as giving him a shoulder to lean on for support when the path was too steep and precarious for him to ride safely. The scariest part was the extent of German´s disorientation due to the fever. He truly had no idea where he was, what was happening or who he was talking to. A little over halfway into the 10km, we were passed by another burro train that included a horse with a saddle. This proved to be a saving grace, as the train driver kindly allowed German to ride the horse the rest of the way out, which made things go much faster while providing a bit more comfort for poor German. The village of Cashapampa could not arrive soon enough, and we all stumbled in completely exhausted both mentally and physically. From there, it was a 3 hour ride in a hot, crowded bus back to Huaraz where the pleasures of a hot shower, a real toilet and a true variety of food beckoned invitingly.

So, that was the Santa Cruz trek in all of its glory. Overall it was a great and enjoyable experience despite the difficulties detailed above. The best part of the trek, however, was the display of friendship between German, Laia, Tom and I. I don´t know if I would´ve completed the trek, and I definitely wouldn´t have had as much fun, were it not for the encouragement and support of my three companions and in particular German.

It is now the day after the trek, and as I write this entry German lies recovering in bed under the watchful eye of Laia, much improved and with little fever to speak of. Tom headed north via bus to the town of Trujillo last night in the company of Canice, a young and fun loving Irishman that we met at the hostel. German and Laia will catch a bus bound for Lima tonight and just like that, the friends that I´ve made so far will be gone and I will be alone. While this is a bit saddening, I´m actually looking forward to the solitude and challenge that it will bring. After all, I embarked on this trip hoping to recognize and address personal inner conflicts, conflicts that have caused those I love most in this world as well as myslef a great deal of pain, and when I am out of my comfort zone with only myself to depend on is the only time that I am truly able to make progress in this area. So, rest assured my friends, I am facing life head on and not avoiding any of the pain AND joy that it brings.

Until next time...........

Plans, plans, plans

Just a quick update. Tomorrow I will be venturing into the Cordillera Blanca for a 4 day trek with Laia, German and Tom. Believe it or not, I´d felt the negative effects of the altitude (headaches, shortness of breath) until today. Thankfully, the locals turned me onto the wonders of mate de coca (a tea made of Coca leaves) as well as chewing the coca leaves themselves. While this is the very same plant that cocaine is made from, it is still very much not cocaine. Anyway, you can rest assured that I will be bringing along a small stash of leaves for the trek.
Once I return from the Cordillera Blanca, it will be 2 days of rest and then a 12 day trek into the Cordillera Huayhuash. This is what I´ve been looking forward to the most on my trip, so it feels great to have the plans made.
It is looking more and more like I might end up spending all of my time in Peru, with a small side trip into Ecuador. It just seems that my time would be better spent soaking up one country as opposed to bouncing around all over the place. Still, my itinerary is quite flexible, so we´ll just have to wait and see what happens. That was the royal we by the way.
I´ve also made some new friends here today, including a guy from California named Tim who runs a cafe in town and is very active in preservation and mapping efforts in the area. In fact, when I walked into the cafe today he was working on an agricultural development proposal with an indigena named Gustavo. Tim works with the Quichua on a frequent basis and was able to shed some light on their lives. He also traded me one of my books for one of his on the lives of these people. He also told me to let him know when I want the hell out of New York and he´d help me get a job on a sustainable development project in the area. We´ll see about that one..
So, I will be absent on the blog and email fronts until the 19th. Sorry for the incomplete nature of the last blog entry, but I will be finishing it.
I hope all is well with all of you my friends, as I am feeling great and loving life these days.
Hasta luego!

Making friends and taking a 4x4 adventure

Okay, I realize this is a really long entry. So, in order to keep some short attention span people interested I´ve provided a table of contents with a brief description of each section, which will then appear in bold in the body of the entry in case you want to read further. For a much more complete collection of photos go here. Enjoy!

Overview

Making friends and getting an outing planned: I met some people two Spaniards, Laia and German, as well as a Brit by the name of Tom. Yay, friends! They convinced me to go on a 4x4 trip into the deep and mysterious el Canon de Pato.

My fascination with the Quechua: I never thought I would be so interested in the native peoples of Peru, the Quechua. As a whole very shy and proud, they regard cameras as instuments of evil and so I have very, very few pictures of them. The women are beautiful, but you have to read further in order to find out exactly why this is so, although I admit that I can´t really explain it. I am now reading everything that I can possibly find about these people. More to come!

The journey into el Canon de Pato: My friends and I take a 4x4 journey north of Huaraz and into the deep and rugged el Canon de Pato. The road is narrow, dusty, bumpy, steep and has a several hundred foot drop on one side. If this wasn´t fun enough, the road travels through 35 tunnels on its way to the town of Huallanca.

The sad, sad town of Huallanca: Huallanca is a factory town of Duke Energy, which has a small hydrelectric dam in the canyon. For some reason, the company forced all of the families to leave the village and now only allows the workers themselves to live their full time. This makes for one of the saddest scenes that I´ve ever seen, complete with completely empty playgrounds and ballfields, eerily quiet streets, no women or children, one store with nearly empty shelves that reeks of human urine and an elderly man who runs the story by himself with only one friend in town, constantly missing the families customers that he had once known. I would recommend to never go to this place, it will only make you angry, confused and, most of all, sad.

If you´re interested.......

Making friends and getting an outing planned

The last day and a half in Huaraz has treated me very well. I moved to a hostel with more of a social scene (Albergue Churup), a maneuver that has paid off quite well. My first night there I met a Spanish couple by the name of Laia and German as well as a Brit by the name of Tom. The three of them had met on the bus ride up from Lima. Laia and German immediately invited me to join themselves and Tom on a 4x4 excursion approximately 80km north of Huaraz to a place called Canon del Pato. Initially I resisted, as my share of the truck rental would run somewhere around $25. So, come morning I made some lame excuse about having a meeting with a guide company at 5pm that afternoon (true), but to my surprise they simply promised to make it back in time. Not having a secondary excuse in hand, I said fuck all and agreed to go. Oh, what a fortuitous decision this was.
After an amazing breakfast prepared by the hostel staff (I´m really roughing in town here) we set out to get the car. I was expecting a beat up old Isuzu Trooper or something of that ilk, but instead found that we´d hired a nearly new 4 door Mitsubishi pickup truck replete with rally bars and lights (which as I´ve mentioned before is standard issue around these parts). So, with German behind the wheel, we set off for a day of motoring.

My fascination with the Quechua

Once out of Huaraz the types of people we saw changed dramatically. Whereas in Huaraz much of the population comprises of indigenas (an all encompassing term for Peruvian natives), most of the women do not wear the traditional garb. Interestingly enough, it is only the women who wear distinctive clothing, whereas the men dress like any other Peruvian Joe on the street. Anyway, the traditional dress consist of a broad skirt down to the knees (often striped or in a light pink or blue), full length stockings (often wool and apparently handknit), button up collared shirt with subtle frills down the front, light colored cardigan sweater, large bright colored shawl tied over the shoulders, very bright wool overcoat reaching to the knees and, to top it all off, a broad brimmed (think cowboy) hat with an enormous crown and a feather like decoration or flowers on the side. For style, as if they don´t have enough already, the women, especially the younger ones, will have their hats tilted slight to to the side (think how soldiers in the movies ALWAYS have their helmets tilted).
Unfortunately, I have very few pictures of the indigena women as they are very shy for the most part and tend to regard the camera as an evil device capable of stealing their souls. For example, Laia asked one of these women, who was carrying her baby in a sling, very politely and gently if she could take a picture of her. Not only did the woman say no, she covered her child´s face and began running down the street. Due to in no small part to this experience, I will never even ask to take a picture of these women. The few pictures that I do have so far were taken from a great distance, and I now often wonder if tainted soul will ever be able to rest after having taken such photos.
I must say that the indigena women are absolutely beautiful in a very strange sort of way, despite their quite stocky build and tendency to have several teeth capped in silver or just missing outright. Nonetheless, whatever they lack in looks they more than make up for in sheer presence. It´s just something in the way that they carry and conduct themselves that forces you to sit up and take notice. This is not to mention the deceptive strength which they posses. On our car trip, German pulled over to offer a ride to an indigena woman who looked to be about 70 or so. She was sitting on a massive bag of what turned out to be seeds bound for the grist mill, and would not even acknowledge German other than a slight nod of the head and quick glance. Only when Laia spoke to her did she fully acknowledge our presence. As it turned out, she was going to a market that was on our way, so she agreed to let us give her a ride. She then calmly got up, picked up her massive bag with the greatest of ease, dropped the bag in the bed of the truck, causing a shudder to travel throughout the vehicle, and then cautiously climbed into the front seat that we had opened for her. Throughout the entire care ride she would only converse with Laia and refused to make so much as I contact with the men. When it came time to drop her off, Laia and German tried to help her lift the bag out of the truck, only to find that it weighed somewhere on the order of 80lbs. Then, with an ever so subtle smile, the woman climbed onto the bumper of the truck and threw the bag over her shoulder, easily, and walked off into the market.

The journey into el Canon de Pato

Okay, back to the car trip. After Huaraz we passed through the town of Caraz. Immediately the streets narrowed and crowded to a point that we had to slow the truck to a crawl in order to safely navigate past the numerous foodstands, people, dogs and moto-taxis (the proper name for the three wheeled motorized taxis I mentioned before). There was no direct path through town, so we had to wind through the streets and ask directions several times. The difficult part was that many of the people that we encountered did not speak Spanish, but rather the local tongue known as Quechua or a mixture of Spanish and Quechua that made them very difficult for even German and Laia to understand. Somehow, we managed to make it out of the town, which is perhaps half a mile across, in under half an hour and continued making our way towards the canyon.

Two hours after leaving Huaraz, we reached the the road leading into Canon del Pato and began the descent to the village of Huallanca at its base. I must say that I was not quite prepared for what the road would be like and, despite my initial doubts, was glad that we had such an impressive vehicle in which to complete the descent. The road was very rough, very windy, very narrow and featured an all too close sheer drop into the river below of between 50 and several hundred feet throughout. Surprisingly, I never really worried for our safety with German behind the wheel as he handled the vehicle with aplomb throughout the day. Perhaps the most interesting feature of the road, were, were the 35 tunnels carved out of solid rock that it passed through before reaching the base of the canyon bottom. I´ve taken some pictures of the descent, but unfortunately they don´t seem to capture the sheer magnitude of the place.

The sad, sad town of Huallanca
After an hour or so of constant, twisting and bumpy descent we finally saw the village of Huallanca below. Huallance is not an indigena settlement, but was rather established as a bas of operations for the small hydroelctric dam located there. As we got closer, I spied a playground and concrete soccer field from above. However, much to my shock both were absolutely empty. This was, I repeat, absolutely shocking, as I´ve passed several sports fields and playgrounds in Huaraz and Lima and they were absolutely never empty, regardless of the time of day or night. Laia wanted to turn around immediately once we saw the town, commenting that it appeared ugly and uninteresting. Still, the rest of us wanted to check it out, and besides, there was nowhere to turn around safely besides the town itself. So, we pulled into town, and where greeted by two dogs and two men standing just in the shade of a bodega.

To be contiued........

A few things that I noticed or learned today

Warning: many may find the following tidbits that I've posted for the greater good of mankind to be absolutely pointless. However, if this is the case you should seriously consider if you're really my friend in the first place.

1. Peru is one of two countries, the other being Scotland (weird), whose soft drink market Coca-Cola could not control to a satisfactory degree. This is attributed solely to the mass popularity of Inca Kola, which is found absolutely everywhere throughout Peru, even though it tastes like really cheap bubble gum and has a color eerily remniscent of urine. Nonetheless, I find myself drinking it with nearly every meal. However, in true American fashion, Coca-Cola waged a massive war for the Peruvian market which culminated in them buying a large share in Inca Kola's parent company and owning exclusive bottling rights (God bless America and her seemingly bottomless pockets). It seems that most Peruvians know this story and tell it with great pride when called upon. The wikipedia article on Inca Kola is great. Check it out.
2. Chinese fast food restaurants are everywhere here and go by the appropriate and hilarious name of "Chifa," short for "Chinese Fast Food." I really don't understand why it's not Chiriba, but that could be the topic of an independent blog entry in the near future. Prepare yourself.
3. Old Spice has a most delightful scent in their High Endurance line down here that I've never seen in the states. It's called "Ice Rock," and keeps me smelling great, or at least relatively nonoffensive, for hours.
4. The taxi cabs in Huaraz, while still driven by maniacs, put the New York versions to shame. Nearly all feature rally lights and bars as well as decals professing the drivers love for Jesus Christ, chubby girls, their children (who are listed with ages on the side) or all three. In addition, many have chrome highlights, garish pinstripes and incredibly loud horns that they beep incessantly. Oh, most of these cabs are named, and often in English so that the tourists can appreciate them in full. Some highlights include the Golden Eagle of Peru, the Panther and Road Warrior (I admit this one wasn't imaginative, but when it's on a Daewoo Tico, aka the smallest car known to man, one takes notice). It's a close fight between these types of cabs, which are nearly all station wagons, and the equally pimped-out motorized tricycles for tarmac supremacy in these parts. I've already taken close to a dozen pictures of these things and will be dedicating an entire photo album to them in the near future.
5. Checkers in the grocery markets here wear plastic sleeves that cover their forearms only. I cannot for the life of me figure out why this is and my Spanish is far to crappy to ask with any semblance of decency, so if anyone has any ideas or knowledge to drop on the subject please do so. Immediately.
6. Even security guards for the grocery stores here pack some serious weaponry, wear bullet-proof vests and have their hair styled in crew cuts. If intimidation is their goal then it works, as I walk briskly through the stores without touching anything that I don't have to buy and always make sure to say "por favor" and "muchas gracias" to every employee that I encounter.
7. The Latin American version of the yellow pages is called Hispanic Yellow. Whose the brilliant marketing guy that came up with that one?

Getting into and the hell out of Lima

Well, I made it to Peru with all of my faculties and belongings intact. This despite spending 12 hours in the Miami airport and realizing that my Spanish is even worse than I feared. Okay, onto the update which will flat out skip the many sordid tales that I have from my brief stay in Miam. Hint: Au Bon Pain, which used to be myfallback airport food stop completely let me down, including but not limited to being served powdered and shaped scrambled eggs. Gross.

So, I arrived in Lima at 9:30 last night. I decided to take one of the rather expensive official cabs from the airport to avoid the embarassment of being robbed and/or violated in some uncomfortable way during my first night in Lima. Anyway, the cab ride was interesting. First of all, I will never under any circumstances drive in this country, and in fact I am now avoiding any street crossings that are not absolutely necessary. Case in point: the driver, who was a very nice guy and well dressed to boot, came upon a group of teenagers crossing the street doing their best pimp strolls and honked his horn. The normal order of events as far as I´m concerned would be for him to then slow down a wee bit while the teenagers got out of his way. But no, this is Lima! Instead, he gunned it and SWERVED at the teenagers! The last three of the group ended up diving onto the sidewalk (we´re talking full on, headfirst, the endzone is half a yard away type dive) before hurling some choice vulgarities into the night air. So there I am, half an hour in Peru and I´ve already shit my pants and been rendered completely speechless. Then the driver calmy turns his head to the back seat and asks me about night clubs and whether I like girls. I gathered myself and told him that I prefer dark bars and older women, which he did not find amusing. Anyway, he kept pounding me on the girl subject, to the point where I was a tad on the uncomfortable side. Finally, I realized what he was getting at, he wanted to take me to a brothel, from which he must get some kind of finders fee. Needless to say, I calmly told him that I hoped I was still young and attractive enough not to have to pay for sex. Still, he gave me his card and his cell phone number in case I needed ANYTHING during my stay in Lima. Wow, what an introduction.

I picked a random hostel from lonely planet in a crappy part of town that had the upside of being very close to the bus station. The hostel was nondescript and I was late enough in arriving that I didn´t have the chance to meet any other fellow travelers. So, my first night was spent unpacking and repacking my bag, somewhat compulsively I must admit, and watching cable TV in spanish with english subtitles. While this may sound boring, it was right up my alley and provided the added benifit of helping me out with my Spanish.

Speaking of my Spanish, I know that I´ve mentioned this several times already, but I am awful. Basically I can speak 12 words that people understand and then must listen for any of those 12 in return. When this fails, which it almost always has so far, I simply start gesturing, which works surprisingly well. I am determined to become at least semi-passable in horribly spoken Spanish by the time I come back to the states. Thankfully, every Peruvian that I have met so far is more than understanding. In fact, when most realize that I can´t understand what the fuck they´re saying they simply figure out what I need or where I´m going and then proceed to to talk to me in Spanish as if I can. In this way, several people have already related to me many of what are undoubtedly interesting stories and anectdotes, none of which I can pass on to you.

Sticking to my plans, I woke up relatively early, grabbed a quick bite and a cup of instant coffee and then caught the first bus to Huaraz. As luck would have it, I ended up sitting next to a young Mexican woman named Julianna who spoke excellent English and was more than happy to indulge conversation starved me with hours of talking. Originally from Mexico City, she had worked as a health and safety consultant all over South and Central America and had plenty of travel tips and stories. The bus ride itself was actually quite enjoyable with quality movies (¨Dance with me¨ anyone?) a bus-wide bingo game for free tickets and amazing scenery. The first hour of the ride was spent simply getting out of Lima and the miles of shanty towns that surround it. We then crawled along the coast with steep, crumbling sandstone on one side and sheer cliffs dropping down to the ocean on the other. As we began to travel inland the terrain became more mountainous and more agricultural. I saw sugar cane, potato and banana fields all right next to one another, which I thought was pretty damn cool. Then came the mountain passes, which were amazing. The mountains were absolutley barren save for the occassional very large cactus with craggy rock outcroppings and caves dotting the hillside. In no way am I doing it justice with my words here, and I didn´t take any pictures from the bus, but trust me it was beautiful.

So, after 4 hours of switchbacks and a 5000m(!!) pass, the bus descended into Huaraz. The city is surrounded by mountains on all sides as it is located at the juntion of the Cordillera Blanca and Cordillera Huayash ranges. It is much prettier than Lima, which I was somewhat surpised by considering that 90% of the city was demolished by a massive earthquake in 1970 and so all of the construction is relatively new. Thankfully the city is also relatively compact and safe, so I´ve been able to walk around without much worry.

Unfortunately that´s really all I´ve got right now, as I basically arrived in town, found a hostel and walked around a bit before sitting down to email and let everyone know that I´d arrived safely. I plan on spending the next few days exploring the city and getting everything ready for a trip into the mountains. I´m also going to find a new hostel tomorrow, although the one I´m in is perfectly clean and friendly. However, since I´m traveling by myself I´d really like to find one with more of a social atmosphere so that I can have some people to talk to and hopefully go on some adventures with. I´ll be posting what is (hopefully) a more exciting entry after a couple of days once I figure things out a bit more. Until then..........

Leaving tomorrow

I leave tomorrow night from Seattle for Lima, Peru, so I decided that I better get this blog thing up and running or it was never going to happen.

As most people reading this should know, my life has undergone some pretty radical changes in the past few weeks. As a result of said changes, I'm heading out alone to South America with a very, shall we say.........fluid itinerary. Right now, the plan is to get into Lima on the night of the 11th and hop the first bus I can to the city of Huaraz, which is 8 hours away. I'll be spending 2-3 days in Huaraz laying low, getting acclimated to the high elevation and setting up the first of what I hope to be many extended mountain treks. This fits into one of the two stated goals that I have for my trip. Ahh, my two goals.

My first and most important goal is to see a penguin in the wild. Why, you may ask? I don't honestly know, but not completely knowing or understanding why I do the things I do is something that I'm becoming more and more comfortable with as I travel through life. Obviously, however, seeing a live penguin means that I will have to get pretty damn far South, so one could simply view this as a means of ensuring that I get a move on into the deeper parts of the Southern Hemisphere. Rest assured that the penguin or penguins that fulfill this goal will be captured on a digital storage device and shared with all of you. My second, and perhaps loftier, goal is to spend 80% of my nights spent traveling sleeping outside. This one is a bit easier to explain, as according to some back of the envelope calculations I'll be spending approximately 98% of the rest of my life sleeping indoors, so why not shoot for 80% in a period of 1 to 3 months? Logic. Obviously there are some other objectives that I have for this trip, but they mostly pertain to my inner well being, sense of self and what not. I'm just going to have to reveal those as they come up, but I will drop some tantalizing clues along the way. Suspense.

The past week that I've spent in Seattle has been great, although most of my time has been spent getting ready for the trip and avoiding actually being in Seattle. After seeing my brother Max, my Dad and Sid, I couldn't be more ready to hop on a plane and head to a continent where I speak neither of the two primary languages. It's certainly going to be an adventure, and I know that the things I see and experience, good and bad, will stay with me for the rest of my life. So, bear with me as I tell long winded stories full of colorful, if not always tasteful, language in an effort to share my life with those that I love..............joey