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