I spent so much time in Spain it was beginning to feel like home. I developed friendships, learned the ways and adapted to the lifestyle i.e. siestas. :-) My Spanish comprehension has improved considerably as well but unfortunately my ability to speak it is still limited to a few key words and phrases. So far I've spent over two months in this wonderful country, where there seem to be at least three churches in even the smallest of villages and it's not uncommon to see nuns walking down the street. Thirty-nine days on the Camino de Santiago with a side trip to Bilbao to eat delicious food and see the impressive Guggenheim Museum. The "art" inside isn't worth the €10, nor is the building itself so interesting from that viewpoint but the outside was absolutely worth the trip there. The structure is made out of 3mm thick titanium plates pieced together to look like a futuristic ship. It's very cool!
The best meal I've had in all my travels outside the U.S. was in Bilbao, and it was a salad! The other best was blue fin tuna tartare in Barcelona. Other than that I've not eaten much here besides salads (with hard boiled egg and tuna-because that's how they are made everywhere here) and tuna empanadas. If I liked eggs I could eat tortillas-an egg and potato 'pie'- but those are the bulk of vegetarian options in this meat-heavy country. Thank goodness I do eat fish! But the wine flows--cheaper than a cup of tea in most parts of the country, costing between €1.00-2.50 a glass depending on if you are in the country or a major city. Some places even include a tapas with that 1.50 glass of wine. A bottle in a restaurant can be purchased for five euro! With a nearly 1:1 exchange rate it's the best deal out there, encouraging you to drink even if you don't want to. And the Spanish do drink. Not heavily- I've never seen them drunk-but they can be seen at any time of day, even 9:00 in the morning, enjoying a beer, vermouth or glass of wine. A half bottle of wine per person is offered with the lunch menu of the day and the evening starts out with a small beer and tapas before switching to wine and more tapas--many of which are meat. Pig parts, actually. Flesh and blood to be exact. Pig ears, fried pig skin, pig lips and the specialty, morcilla-bread and pig blood stuffed in an intestine...you name it they've made tapas out of it. Then there is octopus and other strange creatures from the sea. And they are all specialties. Mmmmmm... But what is surprising to me is that with all this fatty, high-cholesterol food, the Spanish don't seem to have weight problems. Perhaps it's because they eat in moderation and they walk a lot or because they smoke. Unfortunately the vast majority of the population does smoke.
The architecture here is superb. I admit I really didn't know anything about Spanish architecture prior to my arrival and find it very underrated. I'm a huge fan of the chunky baroque, the unique works of Gaudi in the north and the Moorish influence in the south. Gaudi´s creative genius created great works-buildings, parks, churches-that immediately became timeless, and a personal favourite of mine. I think what makes greatness is clever uniqueness. And Spain has produced a lot of Greats: Gaudi, Dali, Picasso to name a few. I realize my good fortune to be able to visit the Parc Guell and Sagrida Familia (among others) in Barcelona, the Dali Museum in Figures and see (admittedly I wasn't a fan before this) great works of Picasso at the Sophia Riena Museum in Madrid. In Madrid I also very much enjoyed the Crystal Palace in the expansive Retiro Park and the hour-long changing of the guards ceremony at the palace. Toledo was very nice, a great show of how the Jews, Muslims and Christians lived together, but very touristy. I much preferred to just wander around the small, lesser-known areas of O Porriño, Puebla de Sanabria and the walled towns of Avila and Girona. The latter has a fantastic well-preserved Jewish quarter.
Spain has also been a great history lesson, inescapable through the architecture alone. A subject I always found incredibly boring in school, in my adult life I often regret not knowing more about it. But the Spanish are very well versed in their past and love to share. I find the history of this country fascinating yet very sad. So many wars. For five hundred years the Muslims, Jews and Christians lived together peacefully and in harmony until everyone had to convert to Catholicism or die. Unfortunately too many people died. Too many senseless wars the world over in the name of God. Then and still today. More and more I find myself drawn to the Jewish past, their story. I sympathize with the plight of a peaceful, highly intelligent and self-sufficient people and feel a greater respect for their culture that I've always admired.
The traditional Spanish city "culture" of going out drinking until 4:00 in the morning is one in which I did not partake. However I did enjoy chancing upon some old women making lace and drinking champagne outside a cafe at 10:00 on a Sunday morning. I also had the good chance to be there during a festival weekend and really enjoyed the local dancing, theater and up-and-coming technology exhibits contrasted with man-powered carnival that went on in the spectacular Parc Castillia. In Barcelona, besides just wandering the streets with your mouth agape there is a great market to explore and the coastline is beautiful with the many palm trees. There was a detectable pride of being Catalunyan and their desire for independence from Spain was palpable and visible with their Catalunya flags flying from windows everywhere.
Before I moved on to Portugal I spent a week near the mountains in Barco de Avila participating in an English immersion program. It was strange to constantly be referred to as an "Anglo" but it was how to differentiate us. For six days-12-hours per day I did little else but speak and listen. I'm not a chatty person by nature but it seemed effortless after the first day. Once again I got to meet native Spaniards and once again I fell in love with the people. So warm and kind. I can't believe that I have allowed a negative childhood experience taint my feelings towards all things associated with the Spanish language for so long. I'm thankful that after spending time in South America and Spain all that negativity is gone.
I'm not done with this country yet. I'll explore the south of Spain after I'm done with Portugal and Morocco. I'm already looking forward to going back.
30 December 2015
16 November 2015
Camino De Santiago
The Camino de Santiago--Finally! One of my biggest bucket list items-and what I planned my entire trip around-was about to happen! The energy of the pilgrims in St. Jean was electric with excitement and I was no exception. I was so stoked to be doing this and to be back in the mountains that on September 25 it only took me 7.5 hours (including breaks) to hike the 27.1 km over the Pyrenees from St. Jean Pied de Port, France to Roncesville, Spain. 684 km (ok, I cheated a little), 1.3 million steps and 36 days later I arrived in Santiago de Compostela. A relatively easy walk, it was unexpectedly powerful at times. I'm sure it will be some time before the significance of the experience is fully revealed to me. However, I have learned that I prefer the sounds of church bells ringing and roosters crowing to the noise of cars, that I'd much rather walk outside and see the gazillion stars at night and watch the sunrise in the morning than have the convenience that city lights represent while blocking them out. In fact, cars have become an assault to my senses and really irritate me. I still love muscle and classic cars, and was in love with my own car but have since decided to aggressively pursue selling it. I hope I never again have to live somewhere that I need a car on a daily basis.
Everyone's Camino looks different and mine included a side trip to wonderful Bilbao for a couple days as well as a spectacular four-day road trip through parts of Spain and Portugal with a Spanish man whom I'd walked with for a couple days. There are two things about The Camino that are clearly evident to Pilgrims (real Pilgrims, not those people that just start 100 km before the end to get their certificate). First, love permeates every aspect of The Camino! It's in the air, on the rocks and in the exchanges of "Buen Camino". There is also a magic in the way it looks out for it's pilgrims, whether it is returning a lost item to it's owner or connecting people that are meant to meet. I've seen and experienced it first hand several times and it is fascinating how quickly strong bonds can form between strangers. I also love how one can have complete conversations with someone that doesn't speak the same language. Cooking together, sleeping in albergues that are monasteries, or run by singing nuns, falling asleep to 'snoring symphonies' (ok, that part I could do without) are lasting memories. Although it is an experience like no other, the overall feeling of connection-with each other, the earth and spirit-was reminiscent of my time in Patagonia. It is not something that I can verbalize. It is so unique and intimate that to try would somehow cheapen it. Walking between 21-31 km/day while eating figs, walnuts, almonds and hazelnuts picked from the trees, grapes from the vines and apples given to us by locals as we passed, became addicting. The terrain is fairly flat with a few mountain passes and very beautiful. Even the less lovely parts have a beauty of their own if you choose to see it. The weather was perfect almost the entire trip. Sometimes that looked like sunshine, sometimes it looked like clouds keeping us from getting too hot but the sun and wind were always at our backs. Only a few days had rain--a warm, soft rain that, to me, was a welcomed coolant. A couple times I didn't even bother with rain gear. The nights often bordered on cold but one was rarely out after 20:00 anyhow and curfew was 22:00. I loved the small villages, cow traffic and the fellow peregrinos I met that enriched my journey. There are infinite details everywhere you look: like the lyrics to John Lennon's Imagine that someone wrote, one verse at a time, on trash cans for several kilometers. Or the rock buried in the ground with the dirt surrounding it just-so so that it looks like a heart. Or the drawing on the rock in the ground. Or the little bird flying against the wind of equal strength causing him to appear stuck in mid-air, flapping his wings in vain. The Pilgrim blessings are very special evening moments and the entire Camino experience is a very welcoming one. It was the rare occasion that I felt like a tourist but disgruntled employees can be found everywhere. Overall, I am finding Spain to be a wonderful and beautiful country where a glass of wine is cheaper than a cup of tea.
Not ready to stop walking, the plan was to continue on another 89.8 km to Fisterra and 28 more to Muxia then bus back to Santiago to walk 11 days to OPorto, Portugal. Unfortunately, on the second day to Fisterra, I received word that my stepmother had made her transition. So with the aid of a taxi and another day of walking, I walked a total of 69.8 km to Fisterra, the place that was once upon a time thought of as the end of the world, when it was believed the world was flat. Fortunately the 10 kilograms of my stuff that I'd shipped from Pamplona had arrived and was waiting in an albergue for me, but the rest of my Camino trip was cancelled. I'm not sure how I am going to un-condition myself from walking for miles every day. I really am hooked on this lifestyle!
I shortened my post because I felt the photos tell a much better story than I ever could. I took over 1,100 pictures and managed to narrow it down to less than 250. I feel so much is missing but I hope you enjoy the slideshow anyway.
For those seriously considering walking The Caminio I have included a post on the sidebar with some details not covered (or stressed enough) in the books that I found helpful.
Everyone's Camino looks different and mine included a side trip to wonderful Bilbao for a couple days as well as a spectacular four-day road trip through parts of Spain and Portugal with a Spanish man whom I'd walked with for a couple days. There are two things about The Camino that are clearly evident to Pilgrims (real Pilgrims, not those people that just start 100 km before the end to get their certificate). First, love permeates every aspect of The Camino! It's in the air, on the rocks and in the exchanges of "Buen Camino". There is also a magic in the way it looks out for it's pilgrims, whether it is returning a lost item to it's owner or connecting people that are meant to meet. I've seen and experienced it first hand several times and it is fascinating how quickly strong bonds can form between strangers. I also love how one can have complete conversations with someone that doesn't speak the same language. Cooking together, sleeping in albergues that are monasteries, or run by singing nuns, falling asleep to 'snoring symphonies' (ok, that part I could do without) are lasting memories. Although it is an experience like no other, the overall feeling of connection-with each other, the earth and spirit-was reminiscent of my time in Patagonia. It is not something that I can verbalize. It is so unique and intimate that to try would somehow cheapen it. Walking between 21-31 km/day while eating figs, walnuts, almonds and hazelnuts picked from the trees, grapes from the vines and apples given to us by locals as we passed, became addicting. The terrain is fairly flat with a few mountain passes and very beautiful. Even the less lovely parts have a beauty of their own if you choose to see it. The weather was perfect almost the entire trip. Sometimes that looked like sunshine, sometimes it looked like clouds keeping us from getting too hot but the sun and wind were always at our backs. Only a few days had rain--a warm, soft rain that, to me, was a welcomed coolant. A couple times I didn't even bother with rain gear. The nights often bordered on cold but one was rarely out after 20:00 anyhow and curfew was 22:00. I loved the small villages, cow traffic and the fellow peregrinos I met that enriched my journey. There are infinite details everywhere you look: like the lyrics to John Lennon's Imagine that someone wrote, one verse at a time, on trash cans for several kilometers. Or the rock buried in the ground with the dirt surrounding it just-so so that it looks like a heart. Or the drawing on the rock in the ground. Or the little bird flying against the wind of equal strength causing him to appear stuck in mid-air, flapping his wings in vain. The Pilgrim blessings are very special evening moments and the entire Camino experience is a very welcoming one. It was the rare occasion that I felt like a tourist but disgruntled employees can be found everywhere. Overall, I am finding Spain to be a wonderful and beautiful country where a glass of wine is cheaper than a cup of tea.
Not ready to stop walking, the plan was to continue on another 89.8 km to Fisterra and 28 more to Muxia then bus back to Santiago to walk 11 days to OPorto, Portugal. Unfortunately, on the second day to Fisterra, I received word that my stepmother had made her transition. So with the aid of a taxi and another day of walking, I walked a total of 69.8 km to Fisterra, the place that was once upon a time thought of as the end of the world, when it was believed the world was flat. Fortunately the 10 kilograms of my stuff that I'd shipped from Pamplona had arrived and was waiting in an albergue for me, but the rest of my Camino trip was cancelled. I'm not sure how I am going to un-condition myself from walking for miles every day. I really am hooked on this lifestyle!
I shortened my post because I felt the photos tell a much better story than I ever could. I took over 1,100 pictures and managed to narrow it down to less than 250. I feel so much is missing but I hope you enjoy the slideshow anyway.
For those seriously considering walking The Caminio I have included a post on the sidebar with some details not covered (or stressed enough) in the books that I found helpful.
10 August 2015
Travel Interrupted
BlaBla Car is the way to travel around Europe. So much cheaper and more comfortable than the train plus you get to meet locals. So from France to Barcelona I went. I was there just 24 hour--only time enough to walk around and check out the market. There is so much to see and do in Barcelona, what a wonderful place! The French have obviously lost the fashion title to Spain. Once again I found myself wishing I were on a shopping holiday. The next day I caught a ride to Pamplona for Running of the Bulls. I didn't have a room reservation anywhere as every place was either full or outrageously expensive but I figured something would work out. We arrived around 20:00 and Wow!! What a wild and crazy place! A sea of white and red and drunkenness. I found my way to the historic town filled with parades, marching bands, live bands, DJ's and music blasted from the bars. I squeezed my way through the crowded streets, successfully avoiding having sangria spilled all over my clothes, danced in parades, went to two carnivals and soaked it all in. Not having a place to stay I decided it would be best not to drink as I needed to keep my wits and belongings close to me and I didn't want to be any more tired than I already would be if I had to stay up all night, which I did.
The party goes on 24-hours a day during San Fermin. Every night at 23:00 there is a spectacular fireworks display and music is heard all night long. I was surprised at how young a lot of the drunks were--fourteen and fifteen year old kids swaying as they tried to stand still at 3:00 in the morning. It gets cold in Pamplona at night and blazing hot during the day. So around 04:30 I found a nearby hotel and sat in the lobby looking for an affordable place to stay for my second night there. And since I didn't pay for one night anywhere I justified paying $150 for a night would average out a little better. Then at 06:30 I went to get a good spot to watch the running of the bulls which starts at 08:00. I settled on an area near the beginning of the run and managed to see one guy get gored right off the bat. The bulls are fast. very fast. The whole run takes place in less than three minutes. Afterward everyone breaks up, gets breakfast or goes to their hotel rooms to finally get some sleep after a night of partying. I found a beautiful cafe and bought myself a cup of hot chocolate so thick it was like warm pudding. Perfect for dipping my buttery croissant into! In the square outside I found a patch of grass, put my day pack under my head and took a nap. Around 10:30 I felt my skin begin to cook but it was still to early to check into the hotel so I walked to the grocery store and bought myself a picnic lunch. There is a quieter, more secluded tree-lined park with a beautiful view of the city and river below that I had discovered the night before. I laid out my towel and enjoyed a healthy meal of gazpacho, sardines, banana and yogurt. I journaled in my iPad for a bit then decided to lay down in the shade of the trees and rest for a bit until I could leave for the hotel.
I must have fallen asleep because I never heard him come. When I woke about 20 minutes later I sat up and looked for my day pack which wasn't there. A few seconds of disbelief hung over me before it sunk in that everything of value and importance that I owned, along with some of my favorite clothes, had just been stolen. Passport, drivers license, $4000 cash, iPad, iPod and hundreds of dollars worth of other little things. Numb, I stood up and started walking around determined to find that SOB that took my stuff. I still had my stainless steel water bottle and as I walked through all the nearby parks looking for the thief, I resolved to knock him upside the head with it when I finally found the bastard. Unfortunately I never did. Instead I found the police at which point I broke down into tears for the next four hours. Not only is this four months worth of budget but my iPad had over a years worth of journaling that I'll never be able to replicate. Names, places, dates, details...my digital memory. I filed my police report and walked to the hotel. I was shown to my room which had four beds and after explaining to the clerk what happened he offered to let me use his lap top.
During my travels it has become abundantly clear that encounters are never left to chance or coincidence and this day was no exception. The hotel didn't have a proper reception, just some poor guy stuck in a storage room with a computer. So while I was in there, using his lap top trying to reach Clay through FB (although there was nothing he could do, I just needed to hear his voice) a couple young Swedish men came in looking for a room, of which none were available. But they had met a family from Denmark on their way in who said they had more beds than they needed and could share their room. So I quickly finished my message and went up to my floor in an attempt to catch up with them. As they came out of the Danes room I caught them and said that I was in the same situation if they met anybody else that was in need of a bed but I only had the room for one night. And since my day pack had been stolen and I could use the cash. So five minutes later there was a knock on my door and that's how I met Ali and Nico. Swedes aren't known for their warm personality and great sense of humor but Ali and Nico broke that stereotype. I attribute it to the fact that Nicos parents are from Chile and Uruguay and Ali's from Egypt. Irrelevant. They rescued me that weekend.
We were like the Three Musketeers for the next 48 hours. Ali let me freely use his cell phone to connect with the digital world, shared his deodorant with me and made me laugh. We walked around and did some shopping so they could get the finishing touches for their attire-red scarf, belt and white t-shirt-then ate some Spanish Chinese food for dinner, complete with Sangria. In the morning they were going to run with the bulls so this time I went to the end, near the arena, to watch for them. It was definitely more fun watching when I knew people running. It was jam packed and my viewing area was about an 8-inch diameter hole so I didn't see them but they did make it inside the arena. We met up afterward and walked back to the hotel. I listened as they unfolded the detailed events of the run, of their scary and near-dangerous encounters with the huge, horned beasts, how someone in the arena very near them got lifted up by the bulls' horns and smashed down on his head and they watched as his body lay there motionless. It was frightening and exciting at the same time.
We had a noon check out and Ali and Nico had beds with the Danish family if they wanted them so I suggested that I leave and go back to Barcelona. They wouldn't hear of it and futilely checked on line for an affordable room, suggested buying hammocks and there was always the fall back of renting a car just to sleep in but in the end Ali called the Danes and asked if I could also stay there. They were fine with it so we were able to enjoy the rest of the day going on a thrilling carnival ride, eating, drinking sangria and watching the bull fight.
See a Spanish bull fight--check. It was a bucket list item. I'm glad to have experienced it but do not intend to ever attend another one. The six bulls from the morning run were slowly teased and tortured as they bled to death until the final, fatal stabbing by the Matador de Toros. There were three matadors, each of which, in rotation, fought two bulls. The least experienced one was boo-ed both times. Even a novice like myself I could see that he wasn't very good as he repeatedly ran behind the protective wall. They all looked spectacular in their traditional, gilded blue outfits and flowing red capes but only one of the matadors performed beautifully, exactly in the dramatic, poised style that one imagines a matador to perform. It was quite impressive.
In two days we laughed and joked and made a lot of memories. They paid for more than their share of everything which was greatly appreciated since I had only 320 euro on me when I was robbed, with no means to get more, and still had to get back to Barcelona and pay for four nights accommodations there and spend 130 euro for a new passport. They ensured that my bucket list trip to Pamplona was indeed a good time despite the awful circumstances. Once again I was feeling blessed.
Obviously I hadn't taken the weather into account when I was planning my trip. I didn't ever factor 35 degree Celsius weather in my head when I saw myself cycling through France or exploring Spain and Portugal. And anybody that has been following my blog knows that I don't do heat well and I'm not a beach person. I had a few choices: 1) fight the heat and tourists and sweat my way through the Latin countries 2) get a job somewhere or 3) go to cooler countries that I had not intended to visit. I chose option four. A couple weeks after Clay and I parted in Nice, I bought a ticket to Orlando to hang out with him for a couple months. (What better place to escape the heat? LOL!) I wanted to get to know him outside of our magical, too perfect fantasy relationship. Was he really this nice and perfect? Was he worth all this time I was spending on him? I was unable to be present in my travels because he was always in my head and, being the ever impatient one, I had to determine if it was real or just his best foot forward. I was certain he had a dark side and I needed to find it. So after four more days in Barcelona, with a temporary passport and six euro in my pocket I hopped on a plane and headed to Florida.
P.S. Because all my stuff was stolen I couldn't take photos so there aren't any associated with this post. Sorry.
The party goes on 24-hours a day during San Fermin. Every night at 23:00 there is a spectacular fireworks display and music is heard all night long. I was surprised at how young a lot of the drunks were--fourteen and fifteen year old kids swaying as they tried to stand still at 3:00 in the morning. It gets cold in Pamplona at night and blazing hot during the day. So around 04:30 I found a nearby hotel and sat in the lobby looking for an affordable place to stay for my second night there. And since I didn't pay for one night anywhere I justified paying $150 for a night would average out a little better. Then at 06:30 I went to get a good spot to watch the running of the bulls which starts at 08:00. I settled on an area near the beginning of the run and managed to see one guy get gored right off the bat. The bulls are fast. very fast. The whole run takes place in less than three minutes. Afterward everyone breaks up, gets breakfast or goes to their hotel rooms to finally get some sleep after a night of partying. I found a beautiful cafe and bought myself a cup of hot chocolate so thick it was like warm pudding. Perfect for dipping my buttery croissant into! In the square outside I found a patch of grass, put my day pack under my head and took a nap. Around 10:30 I felt my skin begin to cook but it was still to early to check into the hotel so I walked to the grocery store and bought myself a picnic lunch. There is a quieter, more secluded tree-lined park with a beautiful view of the city and river below that I had discovered the night before. I laid out my towel and enjoyed a healthy meal of gazpacho, sardines, banana and yogurt. I journaled in my iPad for a bit then decided to lay down in the shade of the trees and rest for a bit until I could leave for the hotel.
I must have fallen asleep because I never heard him come. When I woke about 20 minutes later I sat up and looked for my day pack which wasn't there. A few seconds of disbelief hung over me before it sunk in that everything of value and importance that I owned, along with some of my favorite clothes, had just been stolen. Passport, drivers license, $4000 cash, iPad, iPod and hundreds of dollars worth of other little things. Numb, I stood up and started walking around determined to find that SOB that took my stuff. I still had my stainless steel water bottle and as I walked through all the nearby parks looking for the thief, I resolved to knock him upside the head with it when I finally found the bastard. Unfortunately I never did. Instead I found the police at which point I broke down into tears for the next four hours. Not only is this four months worth of budget but my iPad had over a years worth of journaling that I'll never be able to replicate. Names, places, dates, details...my digital memory. I filed my police report and walked to the hotel. I was shown to my room which had four beds and after explaining to the clerk what happened he offered to let me use his lap top.
During my travels it has become abundantly clear that encounters are never left to chance or coincidence and this day was no exception. The hotel didn't have a proper reception, just some poor guy stuck in a storage room with a computer. So while I was in there, using his lap top trying to reach Clay through FB (although there was nothing he could do, I just needed to hear his voice) a couple young Swedish men came in looking for a room, of which none were available. But they had met a family from Denmark on their way in who said they had more beds than they needed and could share their room. So I quickly finished my message and went up to my floor in an attempt to catch up with them. As they came out of the Danes room I caught them and said that I was in the same situation if they met anybody else that was in need of a bed but I only had the room for one night. And since my day pack had been stolen and I could use the cash. So five minutes later there was a knock on my door and that's how I met Ali and Nico. Swedes aren't known for their warm personality and great sense of humor but Ali and Nico broke that stereotype. I attribute it to the fact that Nicos parents are from Chile and Uruguay and Ali's from Egypt. Irrelevant. They rescued me that weekend.
We were like the Three Musketeers for the next 48 hours. Ali let me freely use his cell phone to connect with the digital world, shared his deodorant with me and made me laugh. We walked around and did some shopping so they could get the finishing touches for their attire-red scarf, belt and white t-shirt-then ate some Spanish Chinese food for dinner, complete with Sangria. In the morning they were going to run with the bulls so this time I went to the end, near the arena, to watch for them. It was definitely more fun watching when I knew people running. It was jam packed and my viewing area was about an 8-inch diameter hole so I didn't see them but they did make it inside the arena. We met up afterward and walked back to the hotel. I listened as they unfolded the detailed events of the run, of their scary and near-dangerous encounters with the huge, horned beasts, how someone in the arena very near them got lifted up by the bulls' horns and smashed down on his head and they watched as his body lay there motionless. It was frightening and exciting at the same time.
We had a noon check out and Ali and Nico had beds with the Danish family if they wanted them so I suggested that I leave and go back to Barcelona. They wouldn't hear of it and futilely checked on line for an affordable room, suggested buying hammocks and there was always the fall back of renting a car just to sleep in but in the end Ali called the Danes and asked if I could also stay there. They were fine with it so we were able to enjoy the rest of the day going on a thrilling carnival ride, eating, drinking sangria and watching the bull fight.
See a Spanish bull fight--check. It was a bucket list item. I'm glad to have experienced it but do not intend to ever attend another one. The six bulls from the morning run were slowly teased and tortured as they bled to death until the final, fatal stabbing by the Matador de Toros. There were three matadors, each of which, in rotation, fought two bulls. The least experienced one was boo-ed both times. Even a novice like myself I could see that he wasn't very good as he repeatedly ran behind the protective wall. They all looked spectacular in their traditional, gilded blue outfits and flowing red capes but only one of the matadors performed beautifully, exactly in the dramatic, poised style that one imagines a matador to perform. It was quite impressive.
In two days we laughed and joked and made a lot of memories. They paid for more than their share of everything which was greatly appreciated since I had only 320 euro on me when I was robbed, with no means to get more, and still had to get back to Barcelona and pay for four nights accommodations there and spend 130 euro for a new passport. They ensured that my bucket list trip to Pamplona was indeed a good time despite the awful circumstances. Once again I was feeling blessed.
Obviously I hadn't taken the weather into account when I was planning my trip. I didn't ever factor 35 degree Celsius weather in my head when I saw myself cycling through France or exploring Spain and Portugal. And anybody that has been following my blog knows that I don't do heat well and I'm not a beach person. I had a few choices: 1) fight the heat and tourists and sweat my way through the Latin countries 2) get a job somewhere or 3) go to cooler countries that I had not intended to visit. I chose option four. A couple weeks after Clay and I parted in Nice, I bought a ticket to Orlando to hang out with him for a couple months. (What better place to escape the heat? LOL!) I wanted to get to know him outside of our magical, too perfect fantasy relationship. Was he really this nice and perfect? Was he worth all this time I was spending on him? I was unable to be present in my travels because he was always in my head and, being the ever impatient one, I had to determine if it was real or just his best foot forward. I was certain he had a dark side and I needed to find it. So after four more days in Barcelona, with a temporary passport and six euro in my pocket I hopped on a plane and headed to Florida.
P.S. Because all my stuff was stolen I couldn't take photos so there aren't any associated with this post. Sorry.
20 July 2015
Switzerland and France
The train ride from Luxembourg to Geneva is really beautiful even with foreboding grey skies threatening rain. It stops in beautiful alpine villages and towns like Interlaken and Basel small and charming among the backdrop of the steep, pine covered mountains. Laurence (Lolo) met me at the train station. She was as friendly and warm as I remembered, making me feel welcome immediately. Laurence is very much into all things organic and healthy and has her own line of soaps, lotions and shampoos that she makes without any chemicals. Her flat is on the third floor of the soap factory, filled with plants, decorated in earth tones with furniture and items collected over the years from her travels in Africa yet had a distinct European flair. I loved it and it was home for the next six days.
One of the things I like best about Lolo is her energy. In the Chilean desert she and I kept a similar pace whether walking or cycling. However, overall she has a lot more energy than I do and even though there are only four years between us, I found it difficult to keep up with her all day long. But what fun we had! We cycled along the canal and Rhone River to Lac Leman a.k.a Lake Geneva where she bought me lunch of delicious Swiss specialities which involved bread or potatoes and lots of cheese. We went for spectacular hikes in the mountains, took in a castle, toured tiny, traditional, alpine villages, went to awesome hot springs surrounded by the Alps with a speedy snail pool and another that played classical music that could only be heard when your head was under water. In return, I helped her in the soap factory and at one of the picturesque markets where she sold it. The evenings were filled with too much food, Swiss cheese (meaning cheese from Switzerland, not hard, bitter, hole-y cheese) and Swiss wine (who knew!). It was a great time! Lolo said she was sad to see me go so we made plans to meet in a week in Lyon for the summer festival. But first I was off to Nice to see my honey.
The last three weeks leading up to Nice, Clay and I talked most everyday on FaceTime. He was occupying a lot of time in my head. Feelings were mutually strong and we were both very much looking forward to being together again. Our hotel was on the promenade and he had reserved a top floor hotel room with a large balcony. I showed up dirty with matted, sweaty hair and bicycle in tow. I love checking into fancy hotels looking like something the cat dragged in. It's my subtle way of reminding people not to judge a book by it's cover. But other than the doorman who didn't like me parking my bike inside, they seemed unphased. Nice is nice, on the azure Mediterranean Sea. The beaches are small rocks, painful to walk on without shoes despite their smooth, roundness. The town is easy to navigate, filled with beautiful parks, wide shopping streets, an abundance of restaurants and infinite tourists. Clay arrived the following evening. We had 43 hours together. We made the most of it: drinks and dinner on the hotels' rooftop terrace restaurant with a great view of the promenade and sea, walked hand in hand through the cobblestone streets with their lace-curtain windows, exploring the cafés, parks and churches. We ate pizza in Cannes and I sipped pink champagne in Monte Carlo. Clay enjoyed all the docked yachts and schooners but I loved the casino best. It is breathtaking! €10 just to walk in but it's worth it. And a peek in the high-roller room made my jaw drop. Unfortunately photos are only allowed in the morning so the best I could do was take a few of the lobby. I know Clay and I must be kindered spirits--we are probably the only couple that goes to the French Rivera and never touches the beach! Just as I am probably the only person who goes to Florida and comes back less tan than when I arrived.
During our last hours together Clay picked up his son from a nearby hotel who had spent the last two weeks travelling in London and France with a school group. When we parted they were going to continue travelling for another two weeks through Eastern Europe. So the three of us had breakfast together then Clay treated us to a Segway tour of the city. I'd never been on one before and at this point in my life there aren't a lot of things that I haven't done so I really enjoy something new. Once I got the hang of it it was a blast!! A fun way to spend our last moments together so when we parted no tears were shed. There were also no doubts that we would see each other again.
I continued alone onto Cassis via train. Research showed that about half the route was on busy roads and I wasn't too keen on that, especially since we had seen a woman laying in the road in Cannes that had just been hit by a car while on her scooter. There may be an alternate way but it would have to be through the mountains and that wasn't going to happen either. It seemed like such a great idea at first but the reality was the bike was becoming more of a burden than joy. I had to buy a bike bag to avoid paying extra fees on the train but it made the bike very cumbersome, started to rip and gave me bruises on my legs from where the bike kept banging into me. Not to mention it was entirely too hot to be riding, hauling 17 kilos. On the downhill from the Cassis train station the Panniers got caught in the spokes and ripped open and broke a spoke. I didn't worry about it at first, choosing to enjoy the lovely hostel and this charming town on the Mediterranean. I watched the sun set from atop the mountain, hiked to the first three Calanques, splurged on a fish dinner and strolled through the market. After three days, leaving my bike and bags at the hostel, I caught my BlaBla Car ride to Lyon to meet Laurence.
Lyon is like Paris but better; smaller, fewer people, easy to navigate and it even has it's own mini Eiffel Tower. It is also home of Antoine de Saint- Exupery, incredible murals, Roman amphitheatre ruins and Basilique Notre Dame de Fourviere--one of the most beautiful churches I've ever seen. I met Laurence there for the summer festival. Lyon celebrates the first day of summer with music on literally every other corner. Every genre of music can be heard and the streets are packed until midnight, even on a Sunday. But this was Friday, our first night there, and we had been invited to a party on a boat. So there we were, at one o'clock in the morning, dancing to '80's music played by a DJ in the hull of the boat on the Rhone River, the same river we rode our bikes along a week ago in Switzerland. We left at 2:00 because I couldn't stay awake any longer and I was amazed at the queue of people waiting to get on. My home for the next five days would be in the Croix Rousse district where her friend lived in a small one bedroom apartment. I loved it though...it was a real French apartment! The pull-chain toilet, beautiful moulding in the living room, tiny refrigerator, solid wood doors and flower boxes in the windows. It was also in a great location, literally around the corner from the daily market. We went a little crazy our first day there buying about €70 worth of organic fruit, veg, olives, cheese and bread. I still managed to need something from there every morning...usually olives. :-) Lyon was a wild time...saving the details for the book...and I left feeling even more conflicted. I loved meeting Laurence's friend and her friends but I also decided I'm kinda tired of this. Besides, I've become disenchanted with France and perhaps Europe in general. It is very expensive, every meal I'd splurged on was mediocre, the French no longer hold the title for fashionable, and again, the entire country seems inundated with tourists. It was hot and with few exceptions, I really wasn't meeting people at the hostels. Not to mention, as crazy as it sounds, so many beautiful churches, art pieces, cool museums...I am getting burned out. I miss my mountains! Backpacking through Patagonia was such a different experience...I really miss it!
I stopped in Avignon on the way back to Cassis. A charming walled town that was built by the Pope at a time when there were two Popes. Nine Popes in all lived there and built a Palace for themselves that was certainly not modest or austere. Now however there is little to do other than eat, drink, shop and take photos. I was a week too early for the three-week long theatre festival that draws hundreds of thousands of tourists and over a thousand performances can be seen. Instead I found a small museum that housed some Van Gough, Mattise and Cezanne paintings among others. And another that was a home filled with period furniture and accessories.
Back in Cassis I relaxed for a few days since I'd already seen and done everything. I read a book, relaxed by the hostel infinity pool, got my panniers repaired and worked on my journalling and blog posts. Twice daily I'd walk into town to buy groceries or an ice cream, peruse the disappointing shops then go back to the hostel. It was very hot, there was no way I could cycle through France in this heat. Plus the Belgian post office never delivered my backpack to the hostel in Biarritz so I had another problem on my hands. Sweltering temperatures or not, I resolved to ride the bike to Sete where I would meet Graham. He would take the bike back then I was off to Spain. After all, The Running of the Bulls in Pamplona is a bucket list item!
One of the things I like best about Lolo is her energy. In the Chilean desert she and I kept a similar pace whether walking or cycling. However, overall she has a lot more energy than I do and even though there are only four years between us, I found it difficult to keep up with her all day long. But what fun we had! We cycled along the canal and Rhone River to Lac Leman a.k.a Lake Geneva where she bought me lunch of delicious Swiss specialities which involved bread or potatoes and lots of cheese. We went for spectacular hikes in the mountains, took in a castle, toured tiny, traditional, alpine villages, went to awesome hot springs surrounded by the Alps with a speedy snail pool and another that played classical music that could only be heard when your head was under water. In return, I helped her in the soap factory and at one of the picturesque markets where she sold it. The evenings were filled with too much food, Swiss cheese (meaning cheese from Switzerland, not hard, bitter, hole-y cheese) and Swiss wine (who knew!). It was a great time! Lolo said she was sad to see me go so we made plans to meet in a week in Lyon for the summer festival. But first I was off to Nice to see my honey.
The last three weeks leading up to Nice, Clay and I talked most everyday on FaceTime. He was occupying a lot of time in my head. Feelings were mutually strong and we were both very much looking forward to being together again. Our hotel was on the promenade and he had reserved a top floor hotel room with a large balcony. I showed up dirty with matted, sweaty hair and bicycle in tow. I love checking into fancy hotels looking like something the cat dragged in. It's my subtle way of reminding people not to judge a book by it's cover. But other than the doorman who didn't like me parking my bike inside, they seemed unphased. Nice is nice, on the azure Mediterranean Sea. The beaches are small rocks, painful to walk on without shoes despite their smooth, roundness. The town is easy to navigate, filled with beautiful parks, wide shopping streets, an abundance of restaurants and infinite tourists. Clay arrived the following evening. We had 43 hours together. We made the most of it: drinks and dinner on the hotels' rooftop terrace restaurant with a great view of the promenade and sea, walked hand in hand through the cobblestone streets with their lace-curtain windows, exploring the cafés, parks and churches. We ate pizza in Cannes and I sipped pink champagne in Monte Carlo. Clay enjoyed all the docked yachts and schooners but I loved the casino best. It is breathtaking! €10 just to walk in but it's worth it. And a peek in the high-roller room made my jaw drop. Unfortunately photos are only allowed in the morning so the best I could do was take a few of the lobby. I know Clay and I must be kindered spirits--we are probably the only couple that goes to the French Rivera and never touches the beach! Just as I am probably the only person who goes to Florida and comes back less tan than when I arrived.
During our last hours together Clay picked up his son from a nearby hotel who had spent the last two weeks travelling in London and France with a school group. When we parted they were going to continue travelling for another two weeks through Eastern Europe. So the three of us had breakfast together then Clay treated us to a Segway tour of the city. I'd never been on one before and at this point in my life there aren't a lot of things that I haven't done so I really enjoy something new. Once I got the hang of it it was a blast!! A fun way to spend our last moments together so when we parted no tears were shed. There were also no doubts that we would see each other again.
I continued alone onto Cassis via train. Research showed that about half the route was on busy roads and I wasn't too keen on that, especially since we had seen a woman laying in the road in Cannes that had just been hit by a car while on her scooter. There may be an alternate way but it would have to be through the mountains and that wasn't going to happen either. It seemed like such a great idea at first but the reality was the bike was becoming more of a burden than joy. I had to buy a bike bag to avoid paying extra fees on the train but it made the bike very cumbersome, started to rip and gave me bruises on my legs from where the bike kept banging into me. Not to mention it was entirely too hot to be riding, hauling 17 kilos. On the downhill from the Cassis train station the Panniers got caught in the spokes and ripped open and broke a spoke. I didn't worry about it at first, choosing to enjoy the lovely hostel and this charming town on the Mediterranean. I watched the sun set from atop the mountain, hiked to the first three Calanques, splurged on a fish dinner and strolled through the market. After three days, leaving my bike and bags at the hostel, I caught my BlaBla Car ride to Lyon to meet Laurence.
Lyon is like Paris but better; smaller, fewer people, easy to navigate and it even has it's own mini Eiffel Tower. It is also home of Antoine de Saint- Exupery, incredible murals, Roman amphitheatre ruins and Basilique Notre Dame de Fourviere--one of the most beautiful churches I've ever seen. I met Laurence there for the summer festival. Lyon celebrates the first day of summer with music on literally every other corner. Every genre of music can be heard and the streets are packed until midnight, even on a Sunday. But this was Friday, our first night there, and we had been invited to a party on a boat. So there we were, at one o'clock in the morning, dancing to '80's music played by a DJ in the hull of the boat on the Rhone River, the same river we rode our bikes along a week ago in Switzerland. We left at 2:00 because I couldn't stay awake any longer and I was amazed at the queue of people waiting to get on. My home for the next five days would be in the Croix Rousse district where her friend lived in a small one bedroom apartment. I loved it though...it was a real French apartment! The pull-chain toilet, beautiful moulding in the living room, tiny refrigerator, solid wood doors and flower boxes in the windows. It was also in a great location, literally around the corner from the daily market. We went a little crazy our first day there buying about €70 worth of organic fruit, veg, olives, cheese and bread. I still managed to need something from there every morning...usually olives. :-) Lyon was a wild time...saving the details for the book...and I left feeling even more conflicted. I loved meeting Laurence's friend and her friends but I also decided I'm kinda tired of this. Besides, I've become disenchanted with France and perhaps Europe in general. It is very expensive, every meal I'd splurged on was mediocre, the French no longer hold the title for fashionable, and again, the entire country seems inundated with tourists. It was hot and with few exceptions, I really wasn't meeting people at the hostels. Not to mention, as crazy as it sounds, so many beautiful churches, art pieces, cool museums...I am getting burned out. I miss my mountains! Backpacking through Patagonia was such a different experience...I really miss it!
I stopped in Avignon on the way back to Cassis. A charming walled town that was built by the Pope at a time when there were two Popes. Nine Popes in all lived there and built a Palace for themselves that was certainly not modest or austere. Now however there is little to do other than eat, drink, shop and take photos. I was a week too early for the three-week long theatre festival that draws hundreds of thousands of tourists and over a thousand performances can be seen. Instead I found a small museum that housed some Van Gough, Mattise and Cezanne paintings among others. And another that was a home filled with period furniture and accessories.
Back in Cassis I relaxed for a few days since I'd already seen and done everything. I read a book, relaxed by the hostel infinity pool, got my panniers repaired and worked on my journalling and blog posts. Twice daily I'd walk into town to buy groceries or an ice cream, peruse the disappointing shops then go back to the hostel. It was very hot, there was no way I could cycle through France in this heat. Plus the Belgian post office never delivered my backpack to the hostel in Biarritz so I had another problem on my hands. Sweltering temperatures or not, I resolved to ride the bike to Sete where I would meet Graham. He would take the bike back then I was off to Spain. After all, The Running of the Bulls in Pamplona is a bucket list item!
30 June 2015
England Belgium Luxembourg-A Great Start!
England has long been one of my favorite countries. It's so distinctive with the double decker buses, the black taxis, red phone booths and infinite pubs. I love the fashion, the British accents and their distinguished manners, the food, the countryside, English gardens and the fact that there are so many really old buildings. I've never been a history buff but when I'm in England I can almost feel the history and I get lost in it. I don't know why it's different for me there than anywhere else in Europe but it is.
When I arrived in Bath a friend sent me a FB message saying he had a friend that lived there and introduced us via FB. Graham is the perfect English host. He loves his country and is very knowledgeable about most things historical and otherwise, around Bath and beyond. He was happy to show me around for a few days imparting his knowledge in an interesting, casual way, not like a boring, lecturing historian. He gave me a great list of must-do's and even joined me for some. The Roman Baths are fascinating. Nearly two thousand years old, I was walking around an incredible piece of history. Quite a contrast from the Thermae Baths which one can actually go in and have a nice rooftop view of the city at sunset. It was a little cold but the natural spring water was warm. On the other levels there were steam baths and a lazy-river pool. It was expensive but totally worth it. I also enjoyed a little mischievousness by teaching an older woman how to spray her friends with water using the noodles. Typical American--comes over and causes trouble. Ha!Ha! My work here was done.
The River Avon runs through the beautiful city with curved buildings built out of the golden Bath stone, cobblestone streets and too many tourists. As lovely as it was, I much prefer the quaint, medieval towns of Tetbury or Bradford-on-Avon with its sagging tea house that dates back to 1502, medieval bridges and quiet charm.
Upon hearing of my plan to cycle through parts of Europe, Graham became very excited and offered to donate a bicycle to the cause. So he got it ready and after a few days I was on my way with a bicycle, helmet, gloves, spare tube and lock. All that was needed now were a rack and panniers which I would buy on the continent as the exchange rate was much better. For the better part of three days in Brussels that's what I did. But first I went to Oxford and spent a day walking around and getting my tire fixed. A really lovely city, I now understand what all the hubbub is about. I could only dream of going to school in such a lovely place. Not to mention, the coolest pub in all of GB is tucked in a little alleyway in Oxford.
Having heard so many nice things about it I was super excited to go to Belgium. I took the Eurostar train to Brussels. It is an incredibly expensive way to travel and cheaper to leave from London than from Ashford which is much closer to the continent. Go figure. They also charged me £25 to take the bike AND took my knife at the boarder. Needless to say I was very upset about that and it put me in a bad mood for a couple days. It wasn't until I went to see the Grand Place at dusk with a group from the hostel that I had a change in attitude. Truly one of the more impressive things I've seen in Europe. The enormous white buildings with gold leaf reflecting the setting sun was quite spectacular. Then the lights turned on and it took on an entirely different beauty. I went back in the morning to take photos but it wasn't nearly as nice. I desperately need to buy a real camera so I can capture these moments. In fact I haven't been taking many photos at all. Sometimes it's difficult because the buildings are so big and close together that I can't get far enough away to get a good photo or more often than not there is fencing, scaffolding or cranes in the way. Plus it's rather a hassle to stop all the time on the bike and to be honest, there are just too many beautiful things. I can't take photos of them all.
Belgium quickly won my heart. The country is clean and beautiful with great food, beautiful fashion and the locals that I met were exceptional (except the owner of the first hostel I stayed at). And as great as the cities were, I enjoyed the journey through farms, fields, pastures and tiny villages even more. My favorite story is about my first day on the bike. A lovely 40 km ride (once I got to the trail head) through small Dutch-style villages with their manicured lawns, linear homes and simple steeples atop small churches. Quite the contrast from the organized chaos of French Brussels with its beautiful building facades designed with curves, countless architectural details and ornate wrought iron balconies. But the panniers were heavy, I was a little dehydrated, it was getting cold out and I'd put on about an extra 30km with all the getting lost so after seven hours of riding I was tired and stopped in the first restaurant I'd seen for a long time: The Boondocks -An American Bar and Steakhouse. I couldn't believe it! Just my luck! The irony! I actually rode past it, refusing to stop but quickly realized I was in the middle of the boondocks- not having seen a village for a while-and didn't know where the next one would be so I turned around and went inside. Turned out to be the best thing I could have done.
I ordered the fish and asked the waiter if there was a hostel or cheap accommodations nearby. He didn't think so but said he'd find out. About ten minutes later the restaurant owner came over and offered to let me stay at his home. Very cheap. Free, in fact! So after saying he cleared it with his wife and has two children, I accepted his kind offer and so glad I did.It was exactly the kind of experience I imagined having. And in this quaint village of beautiful Dutch-style homes, Jurgen pulls up in front of the only large, American-style house. The irony continues! After a shower I joined his lovely and hospitable wife on the patio for wine and conversation. When Jurgen came back from the restaurant he joined us then his best friend came over because he didn't believe that they suddenly had an American guest. Haha! Not too many visitors in the small town of Wichelen, let alone Americans. But it was a fun night and in the morning Isabelle made me a breakfast fit for a hungry cyclist! I was too hungry to feel bad about eating her out of house and home. Seriously though they were incredibly kind and generous people and I'm so happy I stopped in that American Steakhouse. I also had a similar experience in the tiny town of Knokke on my way south.
After two and a half days of flat riding along the river, and about three more to go, I got a little bored and decided to take the train to Luxembourg--another country I was very excited about. If you are into a raucous nightlife, high fashion and gastronomical delicacies it's not the place for you. However they do have a huge Saturday Market with antiques, produce and baked goods. Everything in Luxembourg City can be seen in two days and the 15km of underground tunnels historically created for military defense of the city give a fascinating glimpse into its history. Most of the country that I rode my bike through was pristine: beautiful, green rolling hills with occasional farms and pastures and tiny villages. A very underrated country indeed! I would have loved to stay longer and cycle further but I had to catch a train to Switzerland. My French friend I'd met in San Pedro d'Atacama, Chile was expecting me. And after Switzerland is Nice!!!
When I arrived in Bath a friend sent me a FB message saying he had a friend that lived there and introduced us via FB. Graham is the perfect English host. He loves his country and is very knowledgeable about most things historical and otherwise, around Bath and beyond. He was happy to show me around for a few days imparting his knowledge in an interesting, casual way, not like a boring, lecturing historian. He gave me a great list of must-do's and even joined me for some. The Roman Baths are fascinating. Nearly two thousand years old, I was walking around an incredible piece of history. Quite a contrast from the Thermae Baths which one can actually go in and have a nice rooftop view of the city at sunset. It was a little cold but the natural spring water was warm. On the other levels there were steam baths and a lazy-river pool. It was expensive but totally worth it. I also enjoyed a little mischievousness by teaching an older woman how to spray her friends with water using the noodles. Typical American--comes over and causes trouble. Ha!Ha! My work here was done.
The River Avon runs through the beautiful city with curved buildings built out of the golden Bath stone, cobblestone streets and too many tourists. As lovely as it was, I much prefer the quaint, medieval towns of Tetbury or Bradford-on-Avon with its sagging tea house that dates back to 1502, medieval bridges and quiet charm.
Upon hearing of my plan to cycle through parts of Europe, Graham became very excited and offered to donate a bicycle to the cause. So he got it ready and after a few days I was on my way with a bicycle, helmet, gloves, spare tube and lock. All that was needed now were a rack and panniers which I would buy on the continent as the exchange rate was much better. For the better part of three days in Brussels that's what I did. But first I went to Oxford and spent a day walking around and getting my tire fixed. A really lovely city, I now understand what all the hubbub is about. I could only dream of going to school in such a lovely place. Not to mention, the coolest pub in all of GB is tucked in a little alleyway in Oxford.
Having heard so many nice things about it I was super excited to go to Belgium. I took the Eurostar train to Brussels. It is an incredibly expensive way to travel and cheaper to leave from London than from Ashford which is much closer to the continent. Go figure. They also charged me £25 to take the bike AND took my knife at the boarder. Needless to say I was very upset about that and it put me in a bad mood for a couple days. It wasn't until I went to see the Grand Place at dusk with a group from the hostel that I had a change in attitude. Truly one of the more impressive things I've seen in Europe. The enormous white buildings with gold leaf reflecting the setting sun was quite spectacular. Then the lights turned on and it took on an entirely different beauty. I went back in the morning to take photos but it wasn't nearly as nice. I desperately need to buy a real camera so I can capture these moments. In fact I haven't been taking many photos at all. Sometimes it's difficult because the buildings are so big and close together that I can't get far enough away to get a good photo or more often than not there is fencing, scaffolding or cranes in the way. Plus it's rather a hassle to stop all the time on the bike and to be honest, there are just too many beautiful things. I can't take photos of them all.
Belgium quickly won my heart. The country is clean and beautiful with great food, beautiful fashion and the locals that I met were exceptional (except the owner of the first hostel I stayed at). And as great as the cities were, I enjoyed the journey through farms, fields, pastures and tiny villages even more. My favorite story is about my first day on the bike. A lovely 40 km ride (once I got to the trail head) through small Dutch-style villages with their manicured lawns, linear homes and simple steeples atop small churches. Quite the contrast from the organized chaos of French Brussels with its beautiful building facades designed with curves, countless architectural details and ornate wrought iron balconies. But the panniers were heavy, I was a little dehydrated, it was getting cold out and I'd put on about an extra 30km with all the getting lost so after seven hours of riding I was tired and stopped in the first restaurant I'd seen for a long time: The Boondocks -An American Bar and Steakhouse. I couldn't believe it! Just my luck! The irony! I actually rode past it, refusing to stop but quickly realized I was in the middle of the boondocks- not having seen a village for a while-and didn't know where the next one would be so I turned around and went inside. Turned out to be the best thing I could have done.
I ordered the fish and asked the waiter if there was a hostel or cheap accommodations nearby. He didn't think so but said he'd find out. About ten minutes later the restaurant owner came over and offered to let me stay at his home. Very cheap. Free, in fact! So after saying he cleared it with his wife and has two children, I accepted his kind offer and so glad I did.It was exactly the kind of experience I imagined having. And in this quaint village of beautiful Dutch-style homes, Jurgen pulls up in front of the only large, American-style house. The irony continues! After a shower I joined his lovely and hospitable wife on the patio for wine and conversation. When Jurgen came back from the restaurant he joined us then his best friend came over because he didn't believe that they suddenly had an American guest. Haha! Not too many visitors in the small town of Wichelen, let alone Americans. But it was a fun night and in the morning Isabelle made me a breakfast fit for a hungry cyclist! I was too hungry to feel bad about eating her out of house and home. Seriously though they were incredibly kind and generous people and I'm so happy I stopped in that American Steakhouse. I also had a similar experience in the tiny town of Knokke on my way south.
After two and a half days of flat riding along the river, and about three more to go, I got a little bored and decided to take the train to Luxembourg--another country I was very excited about. If you are into a raucous nightlife, high fashion and gastronomical delicacies it's not the place for you. However they do have a huge Saturday Market with antiques, produce and baked goods. Everything in Luxembourg City can be seen in two days and the 15km of underground tunnels historically created for military defense of the city give a fascinating glimpse into its history. Most of the country that I rode my bike through was pristine: beautiful, green rolling hills with occasional farms and pastures and tiny villages. A very underrated country indeed! I would have loved to stay longer and cycle further but I had to catch a train to Switzerland. My French friend I'd met in San Pedro d'Atacama, Chile was expecting me. And after Switzerland is Nice!!!
04 June 2015
USA -UK
I've been so busy the last six weeks I sometimes wonder how it could be so when I was hardly even traveling! In early April I arrived in Florida alone. That means my luggage didn't make it. I was really upset about this as I'd had plans to spend several days in that very cool and funky Art Deco area of Miami called South Beach. It was my first time there and after four months in SA I felt like I was seeing the U.S. for the first time--and what a wild and crazy place it was! A city where anything goes and that freedom and eccentricity is flaunted everywhere: Obese people (or men) in skin-tight gold lame shorts and tank tops, or dining in only a bikini, earrings the size of dinner plates or two-inch long finger nails with rhinestones. I found the place to be loud and a bit in-your-face but there was an undeniable friendly charm about it at the same time. I loved it! But without my luggage I was limited in what I could do in my only outfit so on the third day, after spending several frustrating hours on hold with Avianca Airlines, I left the city with so much unseen, and hopped on a bus for Tampa to spend some quality time with my folks and get some things done--like my taxes, and laundry until my bag arrived.
Three weeks there flew by and I hardly went anywhere. I cherished my early morning walks with my father, greatly appreciated going to the gym with my sister and just visiting with my (step)mom. There were so many things I needed to do, coordinate and organize in my life, plus just hanging out with them that the time seemed short. I suppose there was also a turn of events that helped fill some of my time as well...
Scheduled on my second weekend in Florida was a college reunion of sorts--a circus reunion for those that had participated in the '80's was privately organized during alumni home show weekend. I took the bus up to Tallahassee and had a great weekend meeting new people and connecting with people that I had never really spent much time with before. One of these new people, Clay (not my son) and I hit it off well. So well that before the weekend was over, it was arranged that I would meet him in Nice, France in mid-June. Then a few days later, during one of several phone calls that week, he asked me on a date for the upcoming weekend. He drove two hours to pick me up for our first date (in Sarasota) which was three days long but entirely too short. I was treated like gold while having loads of fun. A tour of the Ringling house and circus museum was a nice touch in keeping with our circus-themed commonality. I've never met anyone I got along with so perfectly and with whom I have so much in common! So I invited him to join me in my cabin on the Queen Mary 2, due to depart in two weeks. I was ecstatic when he accepted! First, however, was a trip to the Pacific Northwest to see my son, dog and friends.
Flights to Seattle are much cheaper than flights to Portland even when you include the train fare to get to Portland so that's what I did. My son, Clayton, hitched up to meet me and it was a tearful reunion-well on my part anyhow. So happy to see him!! We spent three fun-filled days exploring the city before taking the train together to Portland where we enjoyed walking around the Saturday Market and getting Voodoo Donuts before going back to his apartment so I could see my awesome puppy that I miss so much! I thank my stars for all the good people in my life, I am truly fortunate! My girlfriend Heather picked up me and Bear as we were staying at her boyfriends place an hour away. It was a fun reunion and an evening filled with delicious food, wine, laughter and games. The next day I was reunited with my car and Heather and I spent a great day hiking waterfalls in The Gorge and meeting a mutual friend for dinner in the evening. In fact, the rest of the week went the same way...spectacular hikes in The Gorge with friends, meeting up with different friends in the evenings and lots and lots of laughter. Aside from special mention Robb-who was a most gracious host and Heather- who continues to be a great friend, I'd like to thank everyone that made an effort to see me in those five days: Clayton, Duane, Garth, Justin, Cassie, Gary and Brian. It was really great to see you!
Returning my dog and saying good bye to my son was as gut-wrenching as I thought it would be but what surprised me was how much harder it was to say good bye to my friends as well. Perhaps if I hadn't had so much fun... But it was wonderful to see how much their lives have evolved in the last five months and I'm very happy for them. So it was with mixed feelings that I went to the airport. Excited for New York where I would spend a day in Brooklyn with my awesome niece whom I seem to meet up with every few years in exotic places, and for the evening arrival of Clay. It was strange to me how much I missed him even though we'd had only one-albeit amazing-date. My last meal in the USA was a very romantic and delicious dinner at a small, authentic Italian restaurant not far from our Brooklyn hotel. The next day we boarded the QM2 for our second date--a seven-day transatlantic voyage.
The Queen Mary 2 is everything I expected it to be... a massive ship 1,132' long, exquisitely decorated in Art Deco style with white-gloved afternoon tea, an impressive library, planetarium, loads of activities, pleasant and professional staff, lovely shipmates and lots and lots of food. I think one of the most impressive things about it is, although there are over 2,000 people on board, you don't realize it. We were often alone in the elevators and in the stairs and corridors you may pass a couple people. The shows filled up but the only time I felt crowded was when I was in the queue for a tour of the galley. And that was quite impressive! The absence of uncontrollable children did not go unnoticed either. It was my first time on a ship and I loved it! Of course, being able to share it with Clay changed it from something that would have been an amazing experience to a magical one. And it started the moment we entered the room. (Actually it started in NY but...) I had been upgraded from an inside cabin to a window one and when we walked in there was a complimentary split of champagne on the coffee table and on the desk there were flowers, a bottle of Champagne and white chocolate truffles with a sweet note wishing me a Happy Mother's Day, "Love, Clay". Of course this was from Clay, not Clayton, because the only thing my son gave me was a private FB message, late in the afternoon, wishing me a happy Mother's Day. But I did appreciate the play on names. We watched the ship leave port with champagne in our hands and excitement all around us. The Statue of Liberty slowly got smaller as the waterway opened up before us. It was going to be a great week!! We explored the ship from top to bottom--all 13 decks. Clay also treated me to a spa package which gave us access for the week to a therapy pool, saunas and steam bath. We exercised in the gym, played shuffle board on the 12th deck, ping pong, numerous games of cribbage, drank wine, champagne and ate caviar. We dined and danced, watched theatrical performances, movies and listened to lecturers. We sat in a hot tub outside and on deck chairs watching the world go by and in those seven days of being nearly joined at the hip not one cross word was said, annoyed look given or feeling hurt. Not even when I kept waking up Clay at the ungodly hours of 7:00 or 8:00 every morning. And when he begged to be allowed to sleep until 9 I let him. Needless to say I was impressed when he jumped out of bed at 5:15 on the last day to watch the ship dock and the sun rise (in our bathrobes nonetheless!) We got along famously and in fact, were occasionally asked if we were on our honeymoon. And since the spa guy 'married' us (he gave me Clays last name when issuing the card) we would say yes. Hahaha! We both wished the journey was a few days longer and when our time drew to an end there were more than just a few tears shed. We docked in South Hampton and said goodbye in the train station as he had an afternoon flight back to The States and I was going on to Bath. At least we have Nice to look forward to...
Three weeks there flew by and I hardly went anywhere. I cherished my early morning walks with my father, greatly appreciated going to the gym with my sister and just visiting with my (step)mom. There were so many things I needed to do, coordinate and organize in my life, plus just hanging out with them that the time seemed short. I suppose there was also a turn of events that helped fill some of my time as well...
Scheduled on my second weekend in Florida was a college reunion of sorts--a circus reunion for those that had participated in the '80's was privately organized during alumni home show weekend. I took the bus up to Tallahassee and had a great weekend meeting new people and connecting with people that I had never really spent much time with before. One of these new people, Clay (not my son) and I hit it off well. So well that before the weekend was over, it was arranged that I would meet him in Nice, France in mid-June. Then a few days later, during one of several phone calls that week, he asked me on a date for the upcoming weekend. He drove two hours to pick me up for our first date (in Sarasota) which was three days long but entirely too short. I was treated like gold while having loads of fun. A tour of the Ringling house and circus museum was a nice touch in keeping with our circus-themed commonality. I've never met anyone I got along with so perfectly and with whom I have so much in common! So I invited him to join me in my cabin on the Queen Mary 2, due to depart in two weeks. I was ecstatic when he accepted! First, however, was a trip to the Pacific Northwest to see my son, dog and friends.
Flights to Seattle are much cheaper than flights to Portland even when you include the train fare to get to Portland so that's what I did. My son, Clayton, hitched up to meet me and it was a tearful reunion-well on my part anyhow. So happy to see him!! We spent three fun-filled days exploring the city before taking the train together to Portland where we enjoyed walking around the Saturday Market and getting Voodoo Donuts before going back to his apartment so I could see my awesome puppy that I miss so much! I thank my stars for all the good people in my life, I am truly fortunate! My girlfriend Heather picked up me and Bear as we were staying at her boyfriends place an hour away. It was a fun reunion and an evening filled with delicious food, wine, laughter and games. The next day I was reunited with my car and Heather and I spent a great day hiking waterfalls in The Gorge and meeting a mutual friend for dinner in the evening. In fact, the rest of the week went the same way...spectacular hikes in The Gorge with friends, meeting up with different friends in the evenings and lots and lots of laughter. Aside from special mention Robb-who was a most gracious host and Heather- who continues to be a great friend, I'd like to thank everyone that made an effort to see me in those five days: Clayton, Duane, Garth, Justin, Cassie, Gary and Brian. It was really great to see you!
Returning my dog and saying good bye to my son was as gut-wrenching as I thought it would be but what surprised me was how much harder it was to say good bye to my friends as well. Perhaps if I hadn't had so much fun... But it was wonderful to see how much their lives have evolved in the last five months and I'm very happy for them. So it was with mixed feelings that I went to the airport. Excited for New York where I would spend a day in Brooklyn with my awesome niece whom I seem to meet up with every few years in exotic places, and for the evening arrival of Clay. It was strange to me how much I missed him even though we'd had only one-albeit amazing-date. My last meal in the USA was a very romantic and delicious dinner at a small, authentic Italian restaurant not far from our Brooklyn hotel. The next day we boarded the QM2 for our second date--a seven-day transatlantic voyage.
The Queen Mary 2 is everything I expected it to be... a massive ship 1,132' long, exquisitely decorated in Art Deco style with white-gloved afternoon tea, an impressive library, planetarium, loads of activities, pleasant and professional staff, lovely shipmates and lots and lots of food. I think one of the most impressive things about it is, although there are over 2,000 people on board, you don't realize it. We were often alone in the elevators and in the stairs and corridors you may pass a couple people. The shows filled up but the only time I felt crowded was when I was in the queue for a tour of the galley. And that was quite impressive! The absence of uncontrollable children did not go unnoticed either. It was my first time on a ship and I loved it! Of course, being able to share it with Clay changed it from something that would have been an amazing experience to a magical one. And it started the moment we entered the room. (Actually it started in NY but...) I had been upgraded from an inside cabin to a window one and when we walked in there was a complimentary split of champagne on the coffee table and on the desk there were flowers, a bottle of Champagne and white chocolate truffles with a sweet note wishing me a Happy Mother's Day, "Love, Clay". Of course this was from Clay, not Clayton, because the only thing my son gave me was a private FB message, late in the afternoon, wishing me a happy Mother's Day. But I did appreciate the play on names. We watched the ship leave port with champagne in our hands and excitement all around us. The Statue of Liberty slowly got smaller as the waterway opened up before us. It was going to be a great week!! We explored the ship from top to bottom--all 13 decks. Clay also treated me to a spa package which gave us access for the week to a therapy pool, saunas and steam bath. We exercised in the gym, played shuffle board on the 12th deck, ping pong, numerous games of cribbage, drank wine, champagne and ate caviar. We dined and danced, watched theatrical performances, movies and listened to lecturers. We sat in a hot tub outside and on deck chairs watching the world go by and in those seven days of being nearly joined at the hip not one cross word was said, annoyed look given or feeling hurt. Not even when I kept waking up Clay at the ungodly hours of 7:00 or 8:00 every morning. And when he begged to be allowed to sleep until 9 I let him. Needless to say I was impressed when he jumped out of bed at 5:15 on the last day to watch the ship dock and the sun rise (in our bathrobes nonetheless!) We got along famously and in fact, were occasionally asked if we were on our honeymoon. And since the spa guy 'married' us (he gave me Clays last name when issuing the card) we would say yes. Hahaha! We both wished the journey was a few days longer and when our time drew to an end there were more than just a few tears shed. We docked in South Hampton and said goodbye in the train station as he had an afternoon flight back to The States and I was going on to Bath. At least we have Nice to look forward to...
23 April 2015
Patagonia through the end of SA
From Florianopolis, Brazil it was a 30 hour bus ride to Buenos Aries. Sounds crazy but flights out of there are expensive and I am on a budget with more time than money. After 12 hours there I took a public bus nearly two hours to the airport, arriving around 23:30 for my 5:45 flight to Ushuaia. Unfortunately, however, I couldn't check my bag until 3:00. Once the opportunity arose I got in line and when I tried to check in it turned out I was at the wrong airport! Ugh! I could either spend $30 on a taxi to get to the correct one or I could change my flight for $7 and spend an extra five hours in the airport. Obviously I chose the latter.
Ushuaia, fin del mundo, what a great little place! Über touristy but what else would you expect from a place that people mainly go to because it is the end of the world? It's also the launch site for boats to Antartica and large cruise ships enter the port every day. I didn't care, I like the way the small town looked. Since I arrived much later than expected I lost a day so spent my afternoon cooking a nice meal and on the internet in the 'living room'. By the time I went to bed at midnight that night it had been almost 72 hours since I'd slept. That is unless you call sitting upright with your mouth open and head bobbing on the bus or in an airport chair sleep. But it was all good, I had been invited to join a couple others on a hike the next day.
At breakfast I was joined by a Brit and Australian and subsequently invited them to partake in the hike. In the end there were seven of us, each from a different country, ranging in age from 21 to 50-something but you'd never know it by how well we all got on. It was a brilliant day hiking to a glacial lake and up to, under and around the glacier. Covered in dirt and rocks, it wasn't the traditional image one has of a glacier but exciting nonetheless. In the evening, after some libations and snacks at the hostel, the international group-now eight-went to a pub for some tasty local draught brews.
After four days most of the group had dispersed and it was time for me to go too. But the bus from Ushuaia to Puerto Natales was very expensive and I'd heard hitch hiking was easy and very safe so I made up my sign and went to the rotunda to get a ride. Apparently there is a specific place to do this and it wasn't where I was. The locals know this and it's not uncommon for them to pick up hitchhikers and take them to the correct spot. It was already the afternoon and I should have left the day before, on Sunday, but I didn't so it took me quite a while to get a ride. This is also partly because there was a couple that was there before me so they got the first ride out. What I found most wonderful about the experience is how friendly the drivers were. About 80% made some sort of hand communication either apologizing, letting us know why they couldn't pick us up or they just waved or smiled. At the Argentina border, a guard took a liking to me and invited me out of the cold wind and drizzle to have tea and crackers in the warm guard hut. Even though he spoke no English and my Spanish is very limited, it wasn't difficult to figure out he wanted to take me out. He invited me for asada for lunch and I shot him down when I told him I am vegetarian. His co-workers got a good laugh out of it though. It was a very slow border crossing so whenever a car came I'd run out and hold up my sign. Lol! In all, it took two days and four vehicles for me to make it to Punta Arenas, Chile, a cheap bus ride from my destination.
Puerto Natales is the base for everyone that is going to hike the four-day 'W' or more strenuous eight-day 'O' trail (which includes the W) in Torres Del Paine. I attended the information meeting with a young Aussie from my hostel as we both were solos in need of a partner. He was doing the 'W' and I the 'O'. We found three others to do the W but I was still solo and so resolved to do it alone rather than just do the more popular W. We all did some last-minute shopping for essentials then grabbed dinner together. In the morning I stepped out of the hostel and it was like the scene in The Way. Up and down the street, dozens of people, alone and in groups, outfitted with their packs, walking toward the bus station. When I came to the street corner I looked at the next block over and saw more backpackers. It is a very special feeling to be part of a moment like that, alone yet together in the early light of dawn as the rest of the world sleeps.
I wasn't alone for long. When the bus arrived at the first stopping point, me, the cute Italian guy and young German girl I had met the night before walked five hours together in the sunshine and blue sky among the golden grass and rushing river toward the first campsite. Along the way we were joined by a Spanish lady and a Polish man. Now we were five. It was a great day despite the fact that I had brought way too much food and my pack was well over 20 kilograms. I'm glad it was an easy 16 kilometer hike.
It rained in the night but had stopped by morning and the Italian and I walked together as we were planning to hike 10 hours to two campsites away and the others were stopping at the next one. But my heavy pack slowed me down and he was fast so I gave him the pass to continue on without me. After six hours I arrived at the next campground and there was no way my knees and hips would let me carry on for four more hours. I collapsed on the soft bench cushions in the Refugio and the nice park rangers brought me hot tea and a sleeping bag to keep me warm. The rest of the group showed up a couple hours later but with the addition of two French and a Chilean. Now we were seven. By early evening the downpour started and it didn't stop for two days. My tent had taken on water, soaking half of my sleeping bag and in the morning we packed up our wet (and subsequently heavier) stuff and trudged 4.5 hours to the third camp. The Spanish lady had skills...not only had she captivated the attention of the cute Italian but now she managed to get us girls invited to stay in the park rangers hut! The guys joined us for dinner but then had to go sleep in their tents in the rain while we were dry and warm inside. And no, I didn't feel one iota of guilt. :-) I stayed two nights there then decided to tackle the pass. I was alone as the German had left with the guys the day before and the other two were staying on. It was a miserable three hours up the mountain in freezing rain, snow and hurricane force winds that blew me around and made the sleet feel like needles on my face. By the time I made it over I was down to one and a half trekking poles and my pack rain cover was gone but then the winds died down and the rain was lighter. The damage was done though. Where two days ago one took extra steps to avoid getting their shoes muddy, now it was trudged through; the goal was to stay upright. Even with one and a half poles to balance me, I fell, slipped and slid on my butt a half dozen times. My body was sore, scraped and bruised and my confidence was shattered. I was now glad to be alone so nobody could see me crying.
After six hours the sun came out and I was finally able to momentarily look at something besides my feet. That's when I saw my first 'real' glacier-and there was a beautiful rainbow over it! It was an inspiring sight! My spirits were lifted a little though I still had 9 km/4 hours to go to reach my destination. An hour before that point I ran into two of the people from 'prep night'. My spirits were lifted even more! I was now in the 'W'. We walked together for that last hour and I set up my tent near theirs before we made dinner. The camp 'kitchen' consisted of a sink and three rows of picnic tables where people cooked on their camp stoves and ate. After putting on my dry clothes I walked in and the sound was deafening! Every table was packed with people from all over the world chatting away, laughing, sharing stories with those they had just met as if they'd known one another for years. That's what life is like in the mountains without wifi.
My friends left early and it was their last day on the trail so I went the next six hours with an Israeli I'd met at dinner. It was a beautiful hike, not too difficult with perfect weather. My shoes were still wet though and a dry sky wasn't going to be a long term thing. It was predicted to rain again in the morning so I decided to leave if that were the case. It wasn't enjoyable anymore and I wasn't doing it just to do it. It is a beautiful place and I wanted to be able to appreciate it. The Israeli was determined to continue on, "not as a tourist but as a mission." It was perfect articulation of my feelings of exactly why I was stopping. So on day seven I walked back 7.6 km and caught the ferry to the bus. The afternoon was sunny and nice but still, I would not have been able to do another 10 hour day with my still-heavy pack and sore everything. In the end, I think the 'W' would have been enough. I'll be back though to finish it for sure!
Back at the hostel the young Australian was there. It was so unexpected and nice to see a familiar face! We Had a great time hanging out, shopping for dinner and watching a movie. It's difficult to explain how such strong bonds develop with complete strangers when traveling after just a day or two but they do. Over and over it happens and makes good byes hard. Thank goodness for fb and email though so you can stay in touch and hopefully meet again.
Timing is everything! When I got back from Torres Del Paine I had emails from two separate friends telling me they were arriving in El Calafate. It is the stop for most everyone going between TDP and El Chalten. I arrived the day before they all left but the British couple from Pucon, J&J, were coming back in a few days to pick me up. They offered to let me ride with them in their happy hippie love van through Argentina until Santiago where they return the vehicle and I fly back to the States.
Shortly after they all left I met the fascinating Spanish man in my room who had cycled there from Santiago. After chatting a bit we decided to go together to the Perito Moreno glacier. Under the advice of J&J we went in the afternoon when the crowd was less and there would be larger chunks of ice falling. At 50-55 meters high and going on further than we could see all I can say is, WOW! What an amazing experience! There were very few people there so when we heard loud cracking and saw enormous pieces of glacier shear off the face and fall into the water with a thunderous crash it was like a private experience. I'd shriek with excitement and jump up and down like the next contestant on The Price Is Right. Haha! Five hours passed much too quickly!
J&J picked me up and it was off to El Chalten for a couple days of some amazing hikes. Unfortunately it rained and rained and rained. And when it is raining in the valley it is snowing in the mountains. We had one day left and if it was raining at 9:00 the next morning we agreed to get back on the road. The Gods were smiling upon us in the morning and so was I! The sky was clear and the sun was bright! It was an easy and beautiful 10 km hike to Tres Lagos through fields and forest and over streams until the last kilometer which was uphill and in snow. Still beautiful but a bit treacherous at times as it had been compacted and was rather slippery. Going down on the way back would be much worse. At the top the view of Fitz Roy, the Glaciers and their crystal clear blue-green lakes was spectacular. The wind over 10" of snow made it cold but the sun was warm and inviting. It was sunny the next day when we left and the view of the town from the rear view mirrors were unrecognizable. We hadn't seen any of the mountains on the drive in so we made several stops on the way out to snap some pics. It was the theme with J&J and a good lesson on enjoying the journey for destination-driven me. I need to learn to slow down and enjoy the journey more, especially when in a vehicle.
We had a great time making our way up the Argentina side of Patagonia for eight days. The drive was often spectacular and sometimes flat, straight and boring. We went to Cuevas de Los Manos with hand paintings dating over 9000 years, a Welsh village where we had a proper afternoon tea, camped out among a bunch of bikers, saw loads of guanaco's and Darwin's Rhea, wild horses and birds of prey along with some foxes and armadillos. It was very unfortunate that along the way they received some very bad news from home which hastened the trip and changed the mood. So in San Martin when my Spanish bunk-mate, Daniel, invited me to hitchhike with him to Mendoza, since I had the time and really wanted to go there, I agreed.
In the morning J&J and I said good-bye. I'm terrible at these things and therefore rush through them but I really was sad to part ways with them. J&J are my age and their company was very enjoyable. They never made me feel like a third wheel and stories of their extensive travels were both exciting and informative. And knowing they were not ending their travels on a happy note added a complex layer to it. But my next adventure was waiting for me in the form of a tall, cute Spaniard with expressive blue eyes and curly brown hair. And after three days, over 1200 km and a lost pair of prescription sunglasses (mine), we made it. Four nights later in Mendoza we parted ways. It was a very sad good bye. But I met up with my French lady friend from Ushuaia and enjoyed exploring the wineries with her before I left the next day to start my three-day journey back to the USA. I wasn't sad to say good bye to her because I know we will meet up again--there were talks of SE Asia...
My flight from Santiago had a 21-hour layover in Bogota, Columbia so I got a room in a hostel and planned to check out the Gold Museum but because it was Easter weekend, everything-and I mean 98% of the city- was closed. In the evening my English bunkmate invited me to join him and his friends for dinner. Absolutely famished I said yes. We took the train to a cool part of the city, had a scary encounter with a couple prostitutes and their pimp, ate some excellent Mexican food and had a tasty craft beer. I saw and heard enough neat stuff to know I want to return and see more of this country despite the inordinate amount of very aggressive people looking for a handout in the capital. In fact, I didn't want to leave. I was really enjoying myself!
Ushuaia, fin del mundo, what a great little place! Über touristy but what else would you expect from a place that people mainly go to because it is the end of the world? It's also the launch site for boats to Antartica and large cruise ships enter the port every day. I didn't care, I like the way the small town looked. Since I arrived much later than expected I lost a day so spent my afternoon cooking a nice meal and on the internet in the 'living room'. By the time I went to bed at midnight that night it had been almost 72 hours since I'd slept. That is unless you call sitting upright with your mouth open and head bobbing on the bus or in an airport chair sleep. But it was all good, I had been invited to join a couple others on a hike the next day.
At breakfast I was joined by a Brit and Australian and subsequently invited them to partake in the hike. In the end there were seven of us, each from a different country, ranging in age from 21 to 50-something but you'd never know it by how well we all got on. It was a brilliant day hiking to a glacial lake and up to, under and around the glacier. Covered in dirt and rocks, it wasn't the traditional image one has of a glacier but exciting nonetheless. In the evening, after some libations and snacks at the hostel, the international group-now eight-went to a pub for some tasty local draught brews.
After four days most of the group had dispersed and it was time for me to go too. But the bus from Ushuaia to Puerto Natales was very expensive and I'd heard hitch hiking was easy and very safe so I made up my sign and went to the rotunda to get a ride. Apparently there is a specific place to do this and it wasn't where I was. The locals know this and it's not uncommon for them to pick up hitchhikers and take them to the correct spot. It was already the afternoon and I should have left the day before, on Sunday, but I didn't so it took me quite a while to get a ride. This is also partly because there was a couple that was there before me so they got the first ride out. What I found most wonderful about the experience is how friendly the drivers were. About 80% made some sort of hand communication either apologizing, letting us know why they couldn't pick us up or they just waved or smiled. At the Argentina border, a guard took a liking to me and invited me out of the cold wind and drizzle to have tea and crackers in the warm guard hut. Even though he spoke no English and my Spanish is very limited, it wasn't difficult to figure out he wanted to take me out. He invited me for asada for lunch and I shot him down when I told him I am vegetarian. His co-workers got a good laugh out of it though. It was a very slow border crossing so whenever a car came I'd run out and hold up my sign. Lol! In all, it took two days and four vehicles for me to make it to Punta Arenas, Chile, a cheap bus ride from my destination.
Puerto Natales is the base for everyone that is going to hike the four-day 'W' or more strenuous eight-day 'O' trail (which includes the W) in Torres Del Paine. I attended the information meeting with a young Aussie from my hostel as we both were solos in need of a partner. He was doing the 'W' and I the 'O'. We found three others to do the W but I was still solo and so resolved to do it alone rather than just do the more popular W. We all did some last-minute shopping for essentials then grabbed dinner together. In the morning I stepped out of the hostel and it was like the scene in The Way. Up and down the street, dozens of people, alone and in groups, outfitted with their packs, walking toward the bus station. When I came to the street corner I looked at the next block over and saw more backpackers. It is a very special feeling to be part of a moment like that, alone yet together in the early light of dawn as the rest of the world sleeps.
I wasn't alone for long. When the bus arrived at the first stopping point, me, the cute Italian guy and young German girl I had met the night before walked five hours together in the sunshine and blue sky among the golden grass and rushing river toward the first campsite. Along the way we were joined by a Spanish lady and a Polish man. Now we were five. It was a great day despite the fact that I had brought way too much food and my pack was well over 20 kilograms. I'm glad it was an easy 16 kilometer hike.
It rained in the night but had stopped by morning and the Italian and I walked together as we were planning to hike 10 hours to two campsites away and the others were stopping at the next one. But my heavy pack slowed me down and he was fast so I gave him the pass to continue on without me. After six hours I arrived at the next campground and there was no way my knees and hips would let me carry on for four more hours. I collapsed on the soft bench cushions in the Refugio and the nice park rangers brought me hot tea and a sleeping bag to keep me warm. The rest of the group showed up a couple hours later but with the addition of two French and a Chilean. Now we were seven. By early evening the downpour started and it didn't stop for two days. My tent had taken on water, soaking half of my sleeping bag and in the morning we packed up our wet (and subsequently heavier) stuff and trudged 4.5 hours to the third camp. The Spanish lady had skills...not only had she captivated the attention of the cute Italian but now she managed to get us girls invited to stay in the park rangers hut! The guys joined us for dinner but then had to go sleep in their tents in the rain while we were dry and warm inside. And no, I didn't feel one iota of guilt. :-) I stayed two nights there then decided to tackle the pass. I was alone as the German had left with the guys the day before and the other two were staying on. It was a miserable three hours up the mountain in freezing rain, snow and hurricane force winds that blew me around and made the sleet feel like needles on my face. By the time I made it over I was down to one and a half trekking poles and my pack rain cover was gone but then the winds died down and the rain was lighter. The damage was done though. Where two days ago one took extra steps to avoid getting their shoes muddy, now it was trudged through; the goal was to stay upright. Even with one and a half poles to balance me, I fell, slipped and slid on my butt a half dozen times. My body was sore, scraped and bruised and my confidence was shattered. I was now glad to be alone so nobody could see me crying.
After six hours the sun came out and I was finally able to momentarily look at something besides my feet. That's when I saw my first 'real' glacier-and there was a beautiful rainbow over it! It was an inspiring sight! My spirits were lifted a little though I still had 9 km/4 hours to go to reach my destination. An hour before that point I ran into two of the people from 'prep night'. My spirits were lifted even more! I was now in the 'W'. We walked together for that last hour and I set up my tent near theirs before we made dinner. The camp 'kitchen' consisted of a sink and three rows of picnic tables where people cooked on their camp stoves and ate. After putting on my dry clothes I walked in and the sound was deafening! Every table was packed with people from all over the world chatting away, laughing, sharing stories with those they had just met as if they'd known one another for years. That's what life is like in the mountains without wifi.
My friends left early and it was their last day on the trail so I went the next six hours with an Israeli I'd met at dinner. It was a beautiful hike, not too difficult with perfect weather. My shoes were still wet though and a dry sky wasn't going to be a long term thing. It was predicted to rain again in the morning so I decided to leave if that were the case. It wasn't enjoyable anymore and I wasn't doing it just to do it. It is a beautiful place and I wanted to be able to appreciate it. The Israeli was determined to continue on, "not as a tourist but as a mission." It was perfect articulation of my feelings of exactly why I was stopping. So on day seven I walked back 7.6 km and caught the ferry to the bus. The afternoon was sunny and nice but still, I would not have been able to do another 10 hour day with my still-heavy pack and sore everything. In the end, I think the 'W' would have been enough. I'll be back though to finish it for sure!
Back at the hostel the young Australian was there. It was so unexpected and nice to see a familiar face! We Had a great time hanging out, shopping for dinner and watching a movie. It's difficult to explain how such strong bonds develop with complete strangers when traveling after just a day or two but they do. Over and over it happens and makes good byes hard. Thank goodness for fb and email though so you can stay in touch and hopefully meet again.
Timing is everything! When I got back from Torres Del Paine I had emails from two separate friends telling me they were arriving in El Calafate. It is the stop for most everyone going between TDP and El Chalten. I arrived the day before they all left but the British couple from Pucon, J&J, were coming back in a few days to pick me up. They offered to let me ride with them in their happy hippie love van through Argentina until Santiago where they return the vehicle and I fly back to the States.
Shortly after they all left I met the fascinating Spanish man in my room who had cycled there from Santiago. After chatting a bit we decided to go together to the Perito Moreno glacier. Under the advice of J&J we went in the afternoon when the crowd was less and there would be larger chunks of ice falling. At 50-55 meters high and going on further than we could see all I can say is, WOW! What an amazing experience! There were very few people there so when we heard loud cracking and saw enormous pieces of glacier shear off the face and fall into the water with a thunderous crash it was like a private experience. I'd shriek with excitement and jump up and down like the next contestant on The Price Is Right. Haha! Five hours passed much too quickly!
J&J picked me up and it was off to El Chalten for a couple days of some amazing hikes. Unfortunately it rained and rained and rained. And when it is raining in the valley it is snowing in the mountains. We had one day left and if it was raining at 9:00 the next morning we agreed to get back on the road. The Gods were smiling upon us in the morning and so was I! The sky was clear and the sun was bright! It was an easy and beautiful 10 km hike to Tres Lagos through fields and forest and over streams until the last kilometer which was uphill and in snow. Still beautiful but a bit treacherous at times as it had been compacted and was rather slippery. Going down on the way back would be much worse. At the top the view of Fitz Roy, the Glaciers and their crystal clear blue-green lakes was spectacular. The wind over 10" of snow made it cold but the sun was warm and inviting. It was sunny the next day when we left and the view of the town from the rear view mirrors were unrecognizable. We hadn't seen any of the mountains on the drive in so we made several stops on the way out to snap some pics. It was the theme with J&J and a good lesson on enjoying the journey for destination-driven me. I need to learn to slow down and enjoy the journey more, especially when in a vehicle.
We had a great time making our way up the Argentina side of Patagonia for eight days. The drive was often spectacular and sometimes flat, straight and boring. We went to Cuevas de Los Manos with hand paintings dating over 9000 years, a Welsh village where we had a proper afternoon tea, camped out among a bunch of bikers, saw loads of guanaco's and Darwin's Rhea, wild horses and birds of prey along with some foxes and armadillos. It was very unfortunate that along the way they received some very bad news from home which hastened the trip and changed the mood. So in San Martin when my Spanish bunk-mate, Daniel, invited me to hitchhike with him to Mendoza, since I had the time and really wanted to go there, I agreed.
In the morning J&J and I said good-bye. I'm terrible at these things and therefore rush through them but I really was sad to part ways with them. J&J are my age and their company was very enjoyable. They never made me feel like a third wheel and stories of their extensive travels were both exciting and informative. And knowing they were not ending their travels on a happy note added a complex layer to it. But my next adventure was waiting for me in the form of a tall, cute Spaniard with expressive blue eyes and curly brown hair. And after three days, over 1200 km and a lost pair of prescription sunglasses (mine), we made it. Four nights later in Mendoza we parted ways. It was a very sad good bye. But I met up with my French lady friend from Ushuaia and enjoyed exploring the wineries with her before I left the next day to start my three-day journey back to the USA. I wasn't sad to say good bye to her because I know we will meet up again--there were talks of SE Asia...
My flight from Santiago had a 21-hour layover in Bogota, Columbia so I got a room in a hostel and planned to check out the Gold Museum but because it was Easter weekend, everything-and I mean 98% of the city- was closed. In the evening my English bunkmate invited me to join him and his friends for dinner. Absolutely famished I said yes. We took the train to a cool part of the city, had a scary encounter with a couple prostitutes and their pimp, ate some excellent Mexican food and had a tasty craft beer. I saw and heard enough neat stuff to know I want to return and see more of this country despite the inordinate amount of very aggressive people looking for a handout in the capital. In fact, I didn't want to leave. I was really enjoying myself!
17 April 2015
Carnival!! (Plus Iguazu Falls and Florianopolis)
***Video is only for sound purposes with Carnival post***
Because it took so long to get out of Pucon and I was in a rush to get my visa and get to Brazil for Carnival, I only spent two sweltering hot and sweaty days in Buenos Aries...not enough to write much about it. I didn't really take any photos because of the high theft rate. It's common knowledge among travelers that you don't take a backpack out in BA so all valuables remained locked up. But from what I saw, it's just another city. The interesting thing about it is that nothing is open before 10:00 a.m. And then everything shuts down around one or two o'clock until five or six p.m. then it's open again until 21:00. She has a reputation for being a nightlife city but I didn't get to know that side of her. However I did run into the French couple that was with me on the Colca Canyon hike in Peru!
From there it was a 17 hour bus trip to Puerto Iguazu to see the much talked about water falls. If I thought BA heat and humidity was unbearable then I'm not sure how to describe Puerto Iguazu. Sweat dripped down my back, legs, entire body, my clothing was constantly soaked and mosquitoes tried to satiate their voracious appetites through me. Despite that, my memory of it conjures up images of an easy to navigate town, beautiful flowering trees in yellow, orange and red and fruit trees! Guava, star fruit, coconut, banana plants and other native fruits and animals I never learned the names of. And a lovely river walk that ends where the three countries-Paraguay, Brazil & Argentina-meet.
People are divided on which side of the Falls is better but personally I find the Brazil side more spectacular. It is a shorter visit and was much less crowded. Both have coati, monkeys (but AR has more) and incredible iridescent blue birds flitting around but in Brazil you get an impressive panoramic view of the immense falls that put Niagra to shame. And after you've taken thirty photos you walk down the path and realize you've only just seen a portion of what is there! So you take more photos and walk down and discover even more! one gets you so close you can almost reach out and touch them. Obviously one must see both though as each has something different to offer. In AR, you walk more along the tops of the falls through one meter wide steel trails with railings. at he AR side is an all day event and when I was there it was incredibly crowded to the point that it wasn't enjoyable. I literally had to wait several minutes, eventually elbowing my way through the rude people, to get a spot along the rail to see the top of the falls and snap a few photos. And being stuck behind everyone for about one kilometer as they slowly made their way to the open area was more than I could tolerate. So I rushed through all these trails out of obligation. What I was really looking forward to was the solitary waterfall that one could swim in. It was a 4 km walk down the only dirt path in the entire park. In the park I saw a lot of cream and black colored birds but what I was keeping my eye out for was a Toucan. I desperately wanted to see one! After looking about the dense trees for hours I determined that the only way I'd actually see one is if it flew in front of me and landed in a nearby tree. Half-way down the quiet trail, that's exactly what happened! I couldn't believe my fortune! I stopped and we watched each other for several minutes and I marveled at his beauty and how his beak was the size of his body. On the way back I saw a rather large snake! Feeling refreshed after a swim in the cool pool of the small waterfall, I decided it was a good day indeed! :-)
There is a Brazilian Consulate office in Puerto Iguazu so the next day I spent the day checking to see if the two internet cafes I was told about were open so I could print the documents I needed to get my visa. To my dismay they were closed everytime I walked by. It's a small town so I didn't think there were any more. I was ready to cry...it was Monday night and Carnival was to start on Friday. I figured it would take three days to get my visa and Recife was a three day bus ride away. That was the original plan--to meet there the English man with whom I'd traveled in Peru. I'd never make it in time. So I walked around that night and although I found a different closed internet cafe I'd already given up on fulfilling that bucket list item. So I treated myself to a sit-down restaurant dinner that was mediocre at best but at least the wine was good. The single German gentleman at the table in front of me struck up a conversation with me and the next thing you know we were sharing a large bottle of wine. That turned into a couple beers at the club down the street and a couple more beers at another club--all compliments of him. Late the next morning, after spending a couple hours evaluating my options and arguing with myself, I decided to ask the consulate office how long it would take to get the visa. So I hurried over and couldn't believe my ears when he told me he could have it to me the next day if I got the paperwork to him before they closed at 2:00. I rushed to the internet cafe I'd found the night before, which was in the back of a convenience store, and spent a couple hours on the computer then rushed to the Consulate with 30 minutes to spare. He took my money and paperwork and said to return at 11:00 the next day. Woo Hoo! So I walked across the street to the bus station and bought a ticket to Rio leaving at 1:30 the next day. Only a 22 hour bus ride, I would be there a day before Carnival started, which turned out to be perfect!
In San Pedro de Atacama, Chile, I'd met four young folks from Rio and invited myself to stay with them during Carnival. The one young lady, Nathaly, agreed happily so I contacted her and got the address. An hour and a half bus ride from Rio and a short boat ride later I arrived at the lovely island where she lived with her Dad and brother and now temporarily, her mother and her two small dogs, in a two-bedroom structure. It was a great little island and we went out in her kayak, swam in the pool and her dad took us for the best pizza I'd had in South America. He was incredibly kind and generous, making us breakfast in the morning of fresh juice, papaya, melon, bread, cheese and orange cake along with tea and coffee and served Nathaly and I out on the patio. Then he went in the courtyard and gathered some green coconuts from the trees, cut them open with a knife and gave them to us to drink the water. When done he opened them all the way and the sweet meat was so tender I could scoop it out with a spoon! Absolutely spectacular! Due to the crowded conditions and distance to the city, I booked a hostel in Botafoga, a central section of Rio according to my friend. Then we met her girlfriend and went shopping for Carnival costumes. The energy was electric! Music, street vendors and stores selling colorful wigs, penis straws, costumes, bling and beer. Afterward we went to the museum to check out the Kandinsky exhibit. On the way I cried as I looked at the eight red body shapes painted on the sidewalk as we walked past the church where the Candelaria massacre occurred in 1993--when police shot at 70 homeless children sleeping in front of the church, killing eight. The disgust and distrust in the still-corrupt police is alive and well today.
I had a bunk in a 14 bed room with its own toilets and showers. There were only two other females in the room, one transgender, Well, with whom I became quite close, and nine really cute guys from Australia, Germany and Brazil. On Saturday Well and I went to Copacabana Beach and had a blast ogling the same guys. I was expecting the women to live up to their international reputation of perfect figures with round butts and was quite surprised to see that they didn't. The majority of them were seriously overweight and I was one of about three people in the entire country that wore a one piece. The beach was jam packed and anything you wanted could be bought there. People walked around with coolers of beer, trays of grilled shrimp on a stick, racks of bathing suits and countless other food and merchandise items. It was an opportunist's dream! Back at the hostel in the evening Well used his supplies and did a fabulous job on my make-up and bling. He slipped into a tiny, black sequence dress and outshone me as we headed out to the nearby bloco. Music, dancing, throngs of hot, shirtless guys and cold beer--what more could a girl ask for? It was a blast but ended early, much to my surprise. The next day two Germans joined us for the beach and back at the hostel they met a Brazilian guy who knew a lot more about Carnival so under his direction all of us, plus a Canadian, went to Lapa in the night. It doesn't matter where the blocos are, the nights end in Lapa. There, more bands, hot guys (and girls) vendors, beer and food-aka fun-are to be had. The last night of Carnival I was privileged to go with my Brazilian friends to an area in Lapa that only Brazilians go to. It was a completely different feel and totally awesome!
The weather in Rio was the same as in Buenos Aries but somehow more tolerable. Perhaps all the eye-candy helped with that. I loved waking up in the mornings to the cute Australians walking around in nothing but their boxers. Still a little buzzed from the night before we laughed and joked around and got ready to do it all over again! The hostel fed us breakfast and every morning I'd gorge on bread, cheese, cake and fruit because we were so busy drinking beer all day and night that for three days I ate no other meals. The guys would get a sausage or something at some point but for the most part we didn't eat beyond the most important meal of the day. Four days of too much fun was more than this old lady could handle. Wednesday I sat around and recuperated while the others went to see the Christ the Redeemer. Then at 23:30 I went with the two Germans and three Brits to the airport to catch the 1:30 flight to Florianopolis, Brazil. It turned into a fun adventure that ended for me around 9:00 in the morning when we all went our separate ways.
Florianopolis is a large island in the south of the country with lakes and mountains in the middle and 42 beaches ocean side. It's a popular vacation place for people from Argentina and Uruguay. Hot and humid and not being a beach person I didn't appreciate it as much as it deserved although it truly is beautiful. I wanted to go diving so I thought I'd give it a try. Unfortunately the diving was terrible for multiple reasons, low visibility being the main one. I did enjoy some good sushi where a very nice Norwegian man ended up joining me at the my table and afterward he took me to Books and Beer, a very cute place on the lake where liters of beer are served in silver ice buckets and the menu of food, wine and 150 kinds of beer is a thick book with descriptions in both Portuguese and English. In detox mode it was my first night out in a few days and I realized what I had been missing. The place comes alive at night as the temperatures drop and street performers entertain.
After five days I finally figured out what I was going to do next. Although I very much wanted explore more of Brazil and to go to the jungle I realized the middle of the summer would not be the best time for me to do that and the other parts of Brazil had been spoken about with warnings so I opted not to do that as a single female. I might have mace and a knife but the Brazilians have guns and don't hesitate to use them. Or so I've been told. That left me with finishing what I'd started but now in reverse order so I booked a flight to Ushuaia. I was very much looking forward to the cooler temperatures of Patagonia! But first I had to get there which meant a 30 hour bus ride to Buenos Aries.
Because it took so long to get out of Pucon and I was in a rush to get my visa and get to Brazil for Carnival, I only spent two sweltering hot and sweaty days in Buenos Aries...not enough to write much about it. I didn't really take any photos because of the high theft rate. It's common knowledge among travelers that you don't take a backpack out in BA so all valuables remained locked up. But from what I saw, it's just another city. The interesting thing about it is that nothing is open before 10:00 a.m. And then everything shuts down around one or two o'clock until five or six p.m. then it's open again until 21:00. She has a reputation for being a nightlife city but I didn't get to know that side of her. However I did run into the French couple that was with me on the Colca Canyon hike in Peru!
From there it was a 17 hour bus trip to Puerto Iguazu to see the much talked about water falls. If I thought BA heat and humidity was unbearable then I'm not sure how to describe Puerto Iguazu. Sweat dripped down my back, legs, entire body, my clothing was constantly soaked and mosquitoes tried to satiate their voracious appetites through me. Despite that, my memory of it conjures up images of an easy to navigate town, beautiful flowering trees in yellow, orange and red and fruit trees! Guava, star fruit, coconut, banana plants and other native fruits and animals I never learned the names of. And a lovely river walk that ends where the three countries-Paraguay, Brazil & Argentina-meet.
People are divided on which side of the Falls is better but personally I find the Brazil side more spectacular. It is a shorter visit and was much less crowded. Both have coati, monkeys (but AR has more) and incredible iridescent blue birds flitting around but in Brazil you get an impressive panoramic view of the immense falls that put Niagra to shame. And after you've taken thirty photos you walk down the path and realize you've only just seen a portion of what is there! So you take more photos and walk down and discover even more! one gets you so close you can almost reach out and touch them. Obviously one must see both though as each has something different to offer. In AR, you walk more along the tops of the falls through one meter wide steel trails with railings. at he AR side is an all day event and when I was there it was incredibly crowded to the point that it wasn't enjoyable. I literally had to wait several minutes, eventually elbowing my way through the rude people, to get a spot along the rail to see the top of the falls and snap a few photos. And being stuck behind everyone for about one kilometer as they slowly made their way to the open area was more than I could tolerate. So I rushed through all these trails out of obligation. What I was really looking forward to was the solitary waterfall that one could swim in. It was a 4 km walk down the only dirt path in the entire park. In the park I saw a lot of cream and black colored birds but what I was keeping my eye out for was a Toucan. I desperately wanted to see one! After looking about the dense trees for hours I determined that the only way I'd actually see one is if it flew in front of me and landed in a nearby tree. Half-way down the quiet trail, that's exactly what happened! I couldn't believe my fortune! I stopped and we watched each other for several minutes and I marveled at his beauty and how his beak was the size of his body. On the way back I saw a rather large snake! Feeling refreshed after a swim in the cool pool of the small waterfall, I decided it was a good day indeed! :-)
There is a Brazilian Consulate office in Puerto Iguazu so the next day I spent the day checking to see if the two internet cafes I was told about were open so I could print the documents I needed to get my visa. To my dismay they were closed everytime I walked by. It's a small town so I didn't think there were any more. I was ready to cry...it was Monday night and Carnival was to start on Friday. I figured it would take three days to get my visa and Recife was a three day bus ride away. That was the original plan--to meet there the English man with whom I'd traveled in Peru. I'd never make it in time. So I walked around that night and although I found a different closed internet cafe I'd already given up on fulfilling that bucket list item. So I treated myself to a sit-down restaurant dinner that was mediocre at best but at least the wine was good. The single German gentleman at the table in front of me struck up a conversation with me and the next thing you know we were sharing a large bottle of wine. That turned into a couple beers at the club down the street and a couple more beers at another club--all compliments of him. Late the next morning, after spending a couple hours evaluating my options and arguing with myself, I decided to ask the consulate office how long it would take to get the visa. So I hurried over and couldn't believe my ears when he told me he could have it to me the next day if I got the paperwork to him before they closed at 2:00. I rushed to the internet cafe I'd found the night before, which was in the back of a convenience store, and spent a couple hours on the computer then rushed to the Consulate with 30 minutes to spare. He took my money and paperwork and said to return at 11:00 the next day. Woo Hoo! So I walked across the street to the bus station and bought a ticket to Rio leaving at 1:30 the next day. Only a 22 hour bus ride, I would be there a day before Carnival started, which turned out to be perfect!
In San Pedro de Atacama, Chile, I'd met four young folks from Rio and invited myself to stay with them during Carnival. The one young lady, Nathaly, agreed happily so I contacted her and got the address. An hour and a half bus ride from Rio and a short boat ride later I arrived at the lovely island where she lived with her Dad and brother and now temporarily, her mother and her two small dogs, in a two-bedroom structure. It was a great little island and we went out in her kayak, swam in the pool and her dad took us for the best pizza I'd had in South America. He was incredibly kind and generous, making us breakfast in the morning of fresh juice, papaya, melon, bread, cheese and orange cake along with tea and coffee and served Nathaly and I out on the patio. Then he went in the courtyard and gathered some green coconuts from the trees, cut them open with a knife and gave them to us to drink the water. When done he opened them all the way and the sweet meat was so tender I could scoop it out with a spoon! Absolutely spectacular! Due to the crowded conditions and distance to the city, I booked a hostel in Botafoga, a central section of Rio according to my friend. Then we met her girlfriend and went shopping for Carnival costumes. The energy was electric! Music, street vendors and stores selling colorful wigs, penis straws, costumes, bling and beer. Afterward we went to the museum to check out the Kandinsky exhibit. On the way I cried as I looked at the eight red body shapes painted on the sidewalk as we walked past the church where the Candelaria massacre occurred in 1993--when police shot at 70 homeless children sleeping in front of the church, killing eight. The disgust and distrust in the still-corrupt police is alive and well today.
I had a bunk in a 14 bed room with its own toilets and showers. There were only two other females in the room, one transgender, Well, with whom I became quite close, and nine really cute guys from Australia, Germany and Brazil. On Saturday Well and I went to Copacabana Beach and had a blast ogling the same guys. I was expecting the women to live up to their international reputation of perfect figures with round butts and was quite surprised to see that they didn't. The majority of them were seriously overweight and I was one of about three people in the entire country that wore a one piece. The beach was jam packed and anything you wanted could be bought there. People walked around with coolers of beer, trays of grilled shrimp on a stick, racks of bathing suits and countless other food and merchandise items. It was an opportunist's dream! Back at the hostel in the evening Well used his supplies and did a fabulous job on my make-up and bling. He slipped into a tiny, black sequence dress and outshone me as we headed out to the nearby bloco. Music, dancing, throngs of hot, shirtless guys and cold beer--what more could a girl ask for? It was a blast but ended early, much to my surprise. The next day two Germans joined us for the beach and back at the hostel they met a Brazilian guy who knew a lot more about Carnival so under his direction all of us, plus a Canadian, went to Lapa in the night. It doesn't matter where the blocos are, the nights end in Lapa. There, more bands, hot guys (and girls) vendors, beer and food-aka fun-are to be had. The last night of Carnival I was privileged to go with my Brazilian friends to an area in Lapa that only Brazilians go to. It was a completely different feel and totally awesome!
The weather in Rio was the same as in Buenos Aries but somehow more tolerable. Perhaps all the eye-candy helped with that. I loved waking up in the mornings to the cute Australians walking around in nothing but their boxers. Still a little buzzed from the night before we laughed and joked around and got ready to do it all over again! The hostel fed us breakfast and every morning I'd gorge on bread, cheese, cake and fruit because we were so busy drinking beer all day and night that for three days I ate no other meals. The guys would get a sausage or something at some point but for the most part we didn't eat beyond the most important meal of the day. Four days of too much fun was more than this old lady could handle. Wednesday I sat around and recuperated while the others went to see the Christ the Redeemer. Then at 23:30 I went with the two Germans and three Brits to the airport to catch the 1:30 flight to Florianopolis, Brazil. It turned into a fun adventure that ended for me around 9:00 in the morning when we all went our separate ways.
Florianopolis is a large island in the south of the country with lakes and mountains in the middle and 42 beaches ocean side. It's a popular vacation place for people from Argentina and Uruguay. Hot and humid and not being a beach person I didn't appreciate it as much as it deserved although it truly is beautiful. I wanted to go diving so I thought I'd give it a try. Unfortunately the diving was terrible for multiple reasons, low visibility being the main one. I did enjoy some good sushi where a very nice Norwegian man ended up joining me at the my table and afterward he took me to Books and Beer, a very cute place on the lake where liters of beer are served in silver ice buckets and the menu of food, wine and 150 kinds of beer is a thick book with descriptions in both Portuguese and English. In detox mode it was my first night out in a few days and I realized what I had been missing. The place comes alive at night as the temperatures drop and street performers entertain.
After five days I finally figured out what I was going to do next. Although I very much wanted explore more of Brazil and to go to the jungle I realized the middle of the summer would not be the best time for me to do that and the other parts of Brazil had been spoken about with warnings so I opted not to do that as a single female. I might have mace and a knife but the Brazilians have guns and don't hesitate to use them. Or so I've been told. That left me with finishing what I'd started but now in reverse order so I booked a flight to Ushuaia. I was very much looking forward to the cooler temperatures of Patagonia! But first I had to get there which meant a 30 hour bus ride to Buenos Aries.
11 April 2015
Pucon
The guide book describes Pucon, Chile as the "Mecca for adventure sports" and they aren't kidding. With so many fun things to do--from horseback riding, hot springs, hikes with amazing vistas and waterfalls to canyoning, kayaking, parasailing, hydroboarding and climbing an active volcano--it's hard to choose what to do when you are on a budget. Pretty much everyone comes here for the last mentioned activity though and even skeptics come back loving it. So I based myself in a hostel right on Lake Villarica. It certainly wasn't the cheapest at $20/night but it turned out to have awesome guests and staff including a young couple I'd met in Valparaiso and another British couple that would later play an important part in my travels.
Climbing an active volcano was definitely one of my bucket list items and with Chile being the most seismically active country in the world, Volcan Villarica did not disappoint. After taking the chairlift up to avoid the walk up the ash and volcanic rock section-described to me by my bunkmate as "walking up the down escalator for over an hour"- we strapped on our crampons and started our ascent, ice axe in hand. A relatively easy hike, we stopped too many times for my taste but it didn't matter, we couldn't go any faster than the long queue of people in front of us. The blue sky, warm sun and low winds provided perfect hiking and viewing conditions, enabling us to see all the way to Argentina. And although we didn't see lava we could see very far down the crater and the red, iron rich rock, yellow-green sulphur deposits and striated white snow made a feast for the eyes. However the most fun part of the whole trip was sliding 800 meters down the snow!! I wish they had a chair lift all the way to the top so I could do that part over and over again! Without a doubt the volcano is the best activity I've ever done in my life! Canyoning is great fun too. We don't have it in the States but basically we donned wetsuits and booties and walked a couple miles through the river, sliding down large rocks, jumping off waterfalls and boulders, even zip lined using the water to stop us. It is a super fun way to enjoy a beautiful tree-lined river.
The waterfall at Salto El Claro is spectacular too and well worth the 1.5 hour, 10k up-hill walk on a dry, dusty road. However it was my good fortune that, five minutes in, a local in a pickup truck stopped to give us a ride about 85% of the way to the falls. The Swedish girl I was going with spoke Spanish so once again I was off the hook for the awkwardness of not being able to make small talk. We couldn't find the proper trail but we managed to make our way down to the river anyhow and walked upstream a bit until we got to the pool and waterfall. It is the first time I've been able to sit and relax and enjoy a waterfall. I was mesmerized by the motion and solitude for an hour. Usually I'm on a guided hike or there are throngs of other people around that disturb the experience so I have to move on. But it was just us and a young Chilean couple there. And about half way down on the return walk they stopped and gave us a ride all the way back to Pucon. It was a lucky day for sure! I also enjoyed the experience of the small black sand beach on Lake Villarica. Jam-packed with colorful umbrellas, there was a DJ playing music, a skateboard ramp set up, massage tables and more. Beaches in SA are like none I've ever experienced before.
One of my favorite things about traveling like this is all the awesome people I meet. And it is so much fun when we meet up again in another city/town/trek. From my first day to my last I was never alone in Chile. I met people in one town and we'd meet up again in another city. Their company made the journey much more enjoyable as we created shared experiences and broke bread together. And in meeting fellow backpackers during travel, as you talk about where you've been, what you've done, share interesting stories you are also getting loads of travel tips for your next destination. And they are eager to help if you aren't sure about something. As much fun as it is, traveling is also a lot of work planning, organizing and organizing transportation and accommodation arrangements, made infuriatingly difficult with sketchy wifi or when all the web pages come up in Spanish, so we are happy to do anything to make it easier on one another.
Ten days after my arrival (I wanted to leave sooner but it was five days before there was availability on a bus to Argentina) I left Pucon for a 24 hour bus ride to Buenos Aries and was grateful to have the company of my young Israeli bunkmate. He'd been to BA before, and spoke some Spanish, so it was good when we arrived and he was able to navigate us through the subway and downtown so I could change money on the black market and get to a hostel. When he left for the airport in the wee hours the next day I was truly alone for the first time since arriving in Chile three and a half weeks earlier and it felt very strange. I was very much enjoying having familiar faces around. So we shall see what Argentina will bring...
**UPDATE: Shortly after I left the volcano became more active and on March 3rd it erupted. http://www.bbc.com/news/world-latin-america-31960851
Climbing an active volcano was definitely one of my bucket list items and with Chile being the most seismically active country in the world, Volcan Villarica did not disappoint. After taking the chairlift up to avoid the walk up the ash and volcanic rock section-described to me by my bunkmate as "walking up the down escalator for over an hour"- we strapped on our crampons and started our ascent, ice axe in hand. A relatively easy hike, we stopped too many times for my taste but it didn't matter, we couldn't go any faster than the long queue of people in front of us. The blue sky, warm sun and low winds provided perfect hiking and viewing conditions, enabling us to see all the way to Argentina. And although we didn't see lava we could see very far down the crater and the red, iron rich rock, yellow-green sulphur deposits and striated white snow made a feast for the eyes. However the most fun part of the whole trip was sliding 800 meters down the snow!! I wish they had a chair lift all the way to the top so I could do that part over and over again! Without a doubt the volcano is the best activity I've ever done in my life! Canyoning is great fun too. We don't have it in the States but basically we donned wetsuits and booties and walked a couple miles through the river, sliding down large rocks, jumping off waterfalls and boulders, even zip lined using the water to stop us. It is a super fun way to enjoy a beautiful tree-lined river.
The waterfall at Salto El Claro is spectacular too and well worth the 1.5 hour, 10k up-hill walk on a dry, dusty road. However it was my good fortune that, five minutes in, a local in a pickup truck stopped to give us a ride about 85% of the way to the falls. The Swedish girl I was going with spoke Spanish so once again I was off the hook for the awkwardness of not being able to make small talk. We couldn't find the proper trail but we managed to make our way down to the river anyhow and walked upstream a bit until we got to the pool and waterfall. It is the first time I've been able to sit and relax and enjoy a waterfall. I was mesmerized by the motion and solitude for an hour. Usually I'm on a guided hike or there are throngs of other people around that disturb the experience so I have to move on. But it was just us and a young Chilean couple there. And about half way down on the return walk they stopped and gave us a ride all the way back to Pucon. It was a lucky day for sure! I also enjoyed the experience of the small black sand beach on Lake Villarica. Jam-packed with colorful umbrellas, there was a DJ playing music, a skateboard ramp set up, massage tables and more. Beaches in SA are like none I've ever experienced before.
One of my favorite things about traveling like this is all the awesome people I meet. And it is so much fun when we meet up again in another city/town/trek. From my first day to my last I was never alone in Chile. I met people in one town and we'd meet up again in another city. Their company made the journey much more enjoyable as we created shared experiences and broke bread together. And in meeting fellow backpackers during travel, as you talk about where you've been, what you've done, share interesting stories you are also getting loads of travel tips for your next destination. And they are eager to help if you aren't sure about something. As much fun as it is, traveling is also a lot of work planning, organizing and organizing transportation and accommodation arrangements, made infuriatingly difficult with sketchy wifi or when all the web pages come up in Spanish, so we are happy to do anything to make it easier on one another.
Ten days after my arrival (I wanted to leave sooner but it was five days before there was availability on a bus to Argentina) I left Pucon for a 24 hour bus ride to Buenos Aries and was grateful to have the company of my young Israeli bunkmate. He'd been to BA before, and spoke some Spanish, so it was good when we arrived and he was able to navigate us through the subway and downtown so I could change money on the black market and get to a hostel. When he left for the airport in the wee hours the next day I was truly alone for the first time since arriving in Chile three and a half weeks earlier and it felt very strange. I was very much enjoying having familiar faces around. So we shall see what Argentina will bring...
**UPDATE: Shortly after I left the volcano became more active and on March 3rd it erupted. http://www.bbc.com/news/world-latin-america-31960851
05 February 2015
Chile! Arica to Santiago
Crossing the border into Chile was a happy moment for me and the difference between the two countries was noticeable immediately: drivers used turn signals, obeyed lane markings and stop signs, stopped at intersections, for pedestrians in crosswalks and didn't beep their horns. Finally...civilization!
Arica was the first stop for 12 hours until my next 12-hour bus ride to San Pedro de Atacama. A decent town on the coast I enjoyed walking around the fisherman's wharf, watching the fishing boats, pelicans and sea lions and purchasing fresh ceviche for the equivalent of $2.50.
San Pedro is a green oasis in the driest place on earth- the Atacama desert. I accidentally left my Lonely Planet South America book in Arica and was lost without it but it turned out to be a blessing in disguise. I spied one in the backpack of a lady from my bus and followed her for a bit until I got the nerve to catch up to her and explain my situation. Florence turned out to be a lovely french lady who speaks fluent English and Spanish. We walked together to the fringe of town to a hostel with a rude owner that wanted to overcharge us for a bed in her dump. A dispute over price sent us back toward the center of town to try and find affordable accommodations for a few nights. We succeeded at the French-run La Rose de Atacama and were put in a room with a very outgoing French lady.
The three of us spent the next three days together, although sometimes others joined us. The tours are very expensive so we tried to rent a car as had been suggested to me but it turned out to be impossible. We rented bikes instead and began riding uphill at 4:00 a.m. one morning to Piedra del Coyote to watch the sunrise over the vast canyon then rode downhill to Valle de Luna for some hiking and sightseeing. I never thought the desert could be so fascinating and varied. We walked through white Quartz canyons and rode to a vista with a huge chocolate-brown sand dune sitting in a beautiful striated canyon setting that looked like Mars set against a bright blue sky. So unique! We walked to Pukara de Quitor to see some ancient Atacama ruins and a couple faces carved into the rock and I went on a tour of the salt flats in the south where flamingos have their nesting grounds. The salt flats go on for miles and aren't actually flat but jut up at least 4-8" and are very sharp. Unfortunately, with the exception of one or two, the flamingos were too far away to enjoy and although the sunset over the lagoon and flats was nice, there was too much haze around the surrounding mountains and volcanoes to see them change colors as the guide books suggest. The tour also included a short hike through an oasis canyon with a few petroglyph sightings. Unfortunately one needs a high-tech camera to get some decent photos of them so sorry about that.
From SP I rushed and took a 24-hour bus ride to Santiago in order to make it to a party with the family of my high school fried, Oscar. His parents have a lovely flat on the 10th floor of a building with beautiful views of the nice part of downtown Santiago. Their warm hospitality made me feel welcomed and it was really cool to meet up with a friend from the States during international travel. The party at his cousins home was awesome. The food was good, the wine flowed and I was very impressed how every person that entered the home greeted each person at the party-and there were about 25 of us-with a little kiss and hug. Even the teenagers did it unprompted. And they made me feel included, like part of the family. Such great people!
Around 2:30 the next day-our standard lunch time as I quickly learned- we met the same cousin and his lovely family for a delicious lunch outside at a restaurant at the foothill of the mountain with the Virgin Mary atop. Afterward we drove (although the cousin and I would have preferred the one hour walk) up to the top to see her. There was a beautiful view of the city from the summit. The schedule here is a bit different as everyone goes to bed around 2 or 3 in the morning and everyone, except me, sleeps until about noon. Dinner isn't eaten before 10, parties are frequent, the people are unbelievably hospitable and great food and wine and dancing are par for the course with them. I did try-and liked-a lot of traditional Chilean food as well as some specialties like conger eel and abalone.
I had the good fortune to join them for a day at their beach house in the town of El Tabor before I continued on to Valparaiso to meet up again with Florence. I found an awesome hostel In the trendy Cerro Allegre neighborhood with a great rooftop views of the city and a fun group of guests and employees. Flo and I spent most of our time walking around and taking photos of the colorful, artsy city.
Valparaiso is a really beautiful place. Built on a hill at the edge of the Pacific Ocean, with cobblestone streets and alleys, the whole town is a burst of color! All hues of blue, pink, yellow, and white with sprinkles of purple, red and orange make the city look like rolling mosaics. And artwork is everywhere-at every turn of the head. Not just on the walls of most every building but steps, lamp posts, doors and even roof tops! Inside and out! It's amazing what a splash of color can do for a city. After two days in this wonderful place I had to leave as there was another excellent party to get to in Santiago. Plus there is still a lot to do and see before Carnival begins on February 13!
Arica was the first stop for 12 hours until my next 12-hour bus ride to San Pedro de Atacama. A decent town on the coast I enjoyed walking around the fisherman's wharf, watching the fishing boats, pelicans and sea lions and purchasing fresh ceviche for the equivalent of $2.50.
San Pedro is a green oasis in the driest place on earth- the Atacama desert. I accidentally left my Lonely Planet South America book in Arica and was lost without it but it turned out to be a blessing in disguise. I spied one in the backpack of a lady from my bus and followed her for a bit until I got the nerve to catch up to her and explain my situation. Florence turned out to be a lovely french lady who speaks fluent English and Spanish. We walked together to the fringe of town to a hostel with a rude owner that wanted to overcharge us for a bed in her dump. A dispute over price sent us back toward the center of town to try and find affordable accommodations for a few nights. We succeeded at the French-run La Rose de Atacama and were put in a room with a very outgoing French lady.
The three of us spent the next three days together, although sometimes others joined us. The tours are very expensive so we tried to rent a car as had been suggested to me but it turned out to be impossible. We rented bikes instead and began riding uphill at 4:00 a.m. one morning to Piedra del Coyote to watch the sunrise over the vast canyon then rode downhill to Valle de Luna for some hiking and sightseeing. I never thought the desert could be so fascinating and varied. We walked through white Quartz canyons and rode to a vista with a huge chocolate-brown sand dune sitting in a beautiful striated canyon setting that looked like Mars set against a bright blue sky. So unique! We walked to Pukara de Quitor to see some ancient Atacama ruins and a couple faces carved into the rock and I went on a tour of the salt flats in the south where flamingos have their nesting grounds. The salt flats go on for miles and aren't actually flat but jut up at least 4-8" and are very sharp. Unfortunately, with the exception of one or two, the flamingos were too far away to enjoy and although the sunset over the lagoon and flats was nice, there was too much haze around the surrounding mountains and volcanoes to see them change colors as the guide books suggest. The tour also included a short hike through an oasis canyon with a few petroglyph sightings. Unfortunately one needs a high-tech camera to get some decent photos of them so sorry about that.
From SP I rushed and took a 24-hour bus ride to Santiago in order to make it to a party with the family of my high school fried, Oscar. His parents have a lovely flat on the 10th floor of a building with beautiful views of the nice part of downtown Santiago. Their warm hospitality made me feel welcomed and it was really cool to meet up with a friend from the States during international travel. The party at his cousins home was awesome. The food was good, the wine flowed and I was very impressed how every person that entered the home greeted each person at the party-and there were about 25 of us-with a little kiss and hug. Even the teenagers did it unprompted. And they made me feel included, like part of the family. Such great people!
Around 2:30 the next day-our standard lunch time as I quickly learned- we met the same cousin and his lovely family for a delicious lunch outside at a restaurant at the foothill of the mountain with the Virgin Mary atop. Afterward we drove (although the cousin and I would have preferred the one hour walk) up to the top to see her. There was a beautiful view of the city from the summit. The schedule here is a bit different as everyone goes to bed around 2 or 3 in the morning and everyone, except me, sleeps until about noon. Dinner isn't eaten before 10, parties are frequent, the people are unbelievably hospitable and great food and wine and dancing are par for the course with them. I did try-and liked-a lot of traditional Chilean food as well as some specialties like conger eel and abalone.
I had the good fortune to join them for a day at their beach house in the town of El Tabor before I continued on to Valparaiso to meet up again with Florence. I found an awesome hostel In the trendy Cerro Allegre neighborhood with a great rooftop views of the city and a fun group of guests and employees. Flo and I spent most of our time walking around and taking photos of the colorful, artsy city.
Valparaiso is a really beautiful place. Built on a hill at the edge of the Pacific Ocean, with cobblestone streets and alleys, the whole town is a burst of color! All hues of blue, pink, yellow, and white with sprinkles of purple, red and orange make the city look like rolling mosaics. And artwork is everywhere-at every turn of the head. Not just on the walls of most every building but steps, lamp posts, doors and even roof tops! Inside and out! It's amazing what a splash of color can do for a city. After two days in this wonderful place I had to leave as there was another excellent party to get to in Santiago. Plus there is still a lot to do and see before Carnival begins on February 13!
20 January 2015
Peru-Never Again
After 10 days my British friend and I parted ways. I was grateful to have met him--he eased the transition by helping me acclimate to the Peruvian ways, gave me guidance in planning the rest of my travels and provided me with an opportunity to do things I wouldn't have otherwise done, like the Santa Cruz and Laguna 69 treks. Both were amazing but Laguna 69 is the most impressive thing I've ever seen! At 4,600 m, my first glimpse of the electric blue-green glacier water set against the stark grey surroundings of the Andes Mountains took my breath away. It was so powerful it was almost a spiritual experience.
Fourteen bus hours later, my next stop was Huacachina-an oasis in every sense of the word. Restaurants and hostels that surround a large pond, set among sand dunes hundreds of feet high in a desert that goes as far as the eye can see. It is clean and there are no cars which means no diesel fumes to breathe and no honking horns. Twice the price of what I'd previously been paying the peacefulness was totally worth it. The big attractions there are dune buggy rides and sand boarding. Both were a complete blast!
From there it was a 17 hour bus ride next to a baby that cried all night then she and her sister both suffered from altitude sickness and vomited so there was a lovely sour stench wafting around the confined space for the remaining 10 hours to Cusco. Definitely better than Lima but it's still a dirty, noisy, crowded city full of people trying to rip off Gringos. At least the two hostels I stayed at had hot water and water pressure for their showers--truly amenities in this country. Most people rave about Cusco but I don't know why. I didn't feel the need to spend anymore time there than necessary to book a trip
I very much wanted to do the original four day hike but at $650, not including tips for the guides, the cost was prohibitive. Not to mention the weather forecast was rain and after my poor performance on the Santa Cruz trek, I decided to go with the "private car" option. By private car they mean a 15 passenger van. At $135 it was $75 cheaper than the one day trip and it included accommodations and meals. The catch was that from where the van dropped us off, we had to walk 2.5 hours along the train tracks to Aguas Calientes. For me, this was a bonus. After seven hours, going up and down mountains with at least a hundred hairpin turns in a cramped, uncomfortable van, I was grateful to walk. And what a beautiful trip it was! Trains and train tracks have such a timeless romantic feel and with the rushing muddy river on my right and tropical flora like banana trees, wild impatients and other jungle greens surrounding me, the end came too soon. But Aguas Calientes is a cute tourist town of steep cobblestone streets, many of which are closed off to automobiles, so it wasn't all bad.
The tradition on Christmas Eve and NYE throughout Peru is to set off fire works for at least four hours with the majority of the noise at midnight for 30 minutes but continuing until at least 2:00 a.m. If I hadn't forgotten to bring my ear plugs and didn't have to get up at 4:00 a.m., perhaps I wouldn't have minded so much. But the bed was damp from the humid jungle air and the drunk Aussies that kept tramping through the room until 3:30 the night before meant two nights in a row without sleep and I had over 2,000 steps to climb in the predawn hours. We met in the Square at 4:30, donned with flashlights and headlamps and proceeded to walk 30 minutes to the Machu Picchu entrance, which opened at 5:00. During orientation they said "for sporty people it will take up to 1 hour and for non-sporty people, 1-2 hours." Apparently I'm non-sporty because it took me 85 minutes and I barely came in ahead of the last four people, two of which were older, overweight and using walking sticks. To be honest, I'm incredibly embarrassed at how much I've struggled on these hikes. I just can't imagine how I'd be faring if I hadn't spent six months in Oregon getting into shape! Granted, none of my training was at high altitude nor on the stair master and always with a good nights sleep but still! I should be doing better than this!!
Machu Picchu is something I've wanted to do just because I thought it would be cool to see. Never was it a burning desire but I'm so very happy I went there. Our tour started at 6:30 and lasted two hours and didn't even cover everything. That place is so expansive! Incredibly immense with a spirituality that can still be felt in the early morning hours before the throngs of tourists arrive. The architecture and engineering of a 700-year old city built into the side of the mountain is more sophisticated than anything that exists in modern day Peru. In my opinion, the decline of this country began the day the Spanish killed the last Inca king. With all the modern knowledge available it's disturbing that most every place touched by the Peruvian people literally becomes garbage strewn piles of rubble with undrinkable water and a sewer system so poor that one can't even put toilet paper in the toilets without clogging them.
Two more stops before I leave this godforsaken country: Lake Titicaca and Arequipa. Another seven hour, overnight ride to Puno where I chose to do an overnight tour of the islands. At 3,812 meters above sea level, Lake Titicaca is the highest navigable lake in the world and the largest in South America. The first stop was to a reed island of the Uros people. They live on these tiny, floating islands made of reeds as they have for centuries, constantly replenishing them and useing the old ones for cooking fuel. It's a fascinating if not dull existence and I thoroughly enjoyed the tour/education until they tried to pressure us to buy their handicrafts or pay an extra fee to go for a ride in their reed boat.
Island number two, Amantani, was much larger and we spent the night there with a host family. The two story house was quite large and on a huge piece of property but in disrepair and without running water. Yes, by Western standards that must be appalling but really it isn't. An inconvenience yes, but it works fine. This isn't the first country I've been to in my travels in which I encountered a similar situation and although at first it is a bit shocking, you quickly realize it's fine and how wasteful people with running water can be, especially considering it is a more precious resource than oil. After a vegetarian lunch (they don't have meat on the island) we went for a hike to the top of the island to watch the sunset. After dinner we were dressed in traditional clothing and headed to a fiesta held in our honor. It was great fun with lots of dancing! The band played a raucous pan flute, much more enjoyable than the traditional Latino music I've been forced to endure for the last three weeks. I know they do this every night for the tourists but I still feel it was the best part of the trip.
In the morning we cruised to the last destination, Isla Taquile, unique because the indigenous men wear knit caps to denote their social status. Red tip means married, white means single, etc. Aside from gawking at the locals and watch a fascinating demonstration of making soap by smashing two plants together with water, there wasn't anything of much interest on the island other than the beautiful view during the two hour walk to the other port where the boat docked. Overall I enjoyed it but there was an general feeling of cattle being pushed through a route and pressure to buy handicrafts or tip people at every turn.
Yet another seven hour bus ride to Arequipa, my last stop in Peru. I wasn't expecting it to be so dry and dusty but it didn't matter...it quickly became my favorite city in Peru. Built by the Spanish, it is more organized and aesthetically pleasing. Cleaner, lacking the endless street vendors, stray dogs and rubble, even the noise level is acceptable. And because of the lack of people selling their crap on the sidewalks, one can actually walk down them comfortably. The Plaza and many other buildings are made of the beautiful white stone, an impressive block long monistary turned tourist attraction and other grand churches and buildings form the city. Unlike any place I've been in Peru, there seems to be some thought and consistency in the design and architecture of the city. There is a lot to do here and I took in a quick but fun white water rafting trip, enjoyed seeing the condors and hiked through Colca Canyon. The two day canyon trek is quite popular but without beautiful vistas and not even a very enjoyable trek (dust, gravel, rocks and full sun exposure) I'm not sure why other than to say you've hiked the deepest canyon in the world. I wish I had more time to spend in Arequipa but Carnival is only a month away and I still have to get through Chile.
As I leave Peru I try to find some good about the people and their culture. The best I can come up with is they don't smoke. That is to say, it was three weeks after my arrival before I smelled any cigarettes and that was in the hostel bar. The other observation is that, somehow, despite the noise and chaos and stray dogs, roaming steer, sheep and alpaca, somehow it just works for them. It's not for me but that's ok, it doesn't have to be. I think it's a shame that I feel this way about Peru because, truthfully, it has some of the most incredible landscape that I've ever seen: the sculptured Andes Mountains with their beautiful valleys, raging rivers and numerous waterfalls, Machu Picchu, the sand dunes of Huachchina--all unrivaled in my experience. But I'm looking forward to Chile if for no other reason than to see an old high school classmate whose parents now live in Santiago. How awesome is it that our schedules will collide and I'll be able to see part of the country through the eyes of native Chileans!
Fourteen bus hours later, my next stop was Huacachina-an oasis in every sense of the word. Restaurants and hostels that surround a large pond, set among sand dunes hundreds of feet high in a desert that goes as far as the eye can see. It is clean and there are no cars which means no diesel fumes to breathe and no honking horns. Twice the price of what I'd previously been paying the peacefulness was totally worth it. The big attractions there are dune buggy rides and sand boarding. Both were a complete blast!
From there it was a 17 hour bus ride next to a baby that cried all night then she and her sister both suffered from altitude sickness and vomited so there was a lovely sour stench wafting around the confined space for the remaining 10 hours to Cusco. Definitely better than Lima but it's still a dirty, noisy, crowded city full of people trying to rip off Gringos. At least the two hostels I stayed at had hot water and water pressure for their showers--truly amenities in this country. Most people rave about Cusco but I don't know why. I didn't feel the need to spend anymore time there than necessary to book a trip
I very much wanted to do the original four day hike but at $650, not including tips for the guides, the cost was prohibitive. Not to mention the weather forecast was rain and after my poor performance on the Santa Cruz trek, I decided to go with the "private car" option. By private car they mean a 15 passenger van. At $135 it was $75 cheaper than the one day trip and it included accommodations and meals. The catch was that from where the van dropped us off, we had to walk 2.5 hours along the train tracks to Aguas Calientes. For me, this was a bonus. After seven hours, going up and down mountains with at least a hundred hairpin turns in a cramped, uncomfortable van, I was grateful to walk. And what a beautiful trip it was! Trains and train tracks have such a timeless romantic feel and with the rushing muddy river on my right and tropical flora like banana trees, wild impatients and other jungle greens surrounding me, the end came too soon. But Aguas Calientes is a cute tourist town of steep cobblestone streets, many of which are closed off to automobiles, so it wasn't all bad.
The tradition on Christmas Eve and NYE throughout Peru is to set off fire works for at least four hours with the majority of the noise at midnight for 30 minutes but continuing until at least 2:00 a.m. If I hadn't forgotten to bring my ear plugs and didn't have to get up at 4:00 a.m., perhaps I wouldn't have minded so much. But the bed was damp from the humid jungle air and the drunk Aussies that kept tramping through the room until 3:30 the night before meant two nights in a row without sleep and I had over 2,000 steps to climb in the predawn hours. We met in the Square at 4:30, donned with flashlights and headlamps and proceeded to walk 30 minutes to the Machu Picchu entrance, which opened at 5:00. During orientation they said "for sporty people it will take up to 1 hour and for non-sporty people, 1-2 hours." Apparently I'm non-sporty because it took me 85 minutes and I barely came in ahead of the last four people, two of which were older, overweight and using walking sticks. To be honest, I'm incredibly embarrassed at how much I've struggled on these hikes. I just can't imagine how I'd be faring if I hadn't spent six months in Oregon getting into shape! Granted, none of my training was at high altitude nor on the stair master and always with a good nights sleep but still! I should be doing better than this!!
Machu Picchu is something I've wanted to do just because I thought it would be cool to see. Never was it a burning desire but I'm so very happy I went there. Our tour started at 6:30 and lasted two hours and didn't even cover everything. That place is so expansive! Incredibly immense with a spirituality that can still be felt in the early morning hours before the throngs of tourists arrive. The architecture and engineering of a 700-year old city built into the side of the mountain is more sophisticated than anything that exists in modern day Peru. In my opinion, the decline of this country began the day the Spanish killed the last Inca king. With all the modern knowledge available it's disturbing that most every place touched by the Peruvian people literally becomes garbage strewn piles of rubble with undrinkable water and a sewer system so poor that one can't even put toilet paper in the toilets without clogging them.
Two more stops before I leave this godforsaken country: Lake Titicaca and Arequipa. Another seven hour, overnight ride to Puno where I chose to do an overnight tour of the islands. At 3,812 meters above sea level, Lake Titicaca is the highest navigable lake in the world and the largest in South America. The first stop was to a reed island of the Uros people. They live on these tiny, floating islands made of reeds as they have for centuries, constantly replenishing them and useing the old ones for cooking fuel. It's a fascinating if not dull existence and I thoroughly enjoyed the tour/education until they tried to pressure us to buy their handicrafts or pay an extra fee to go for a ride in their reed boat.
Island number two, Amantani, was much larger and we spent the night there with a host family. The two story house was quite large and on a huge piece of property but in disrepair and without running water. Yes, by Western standards that must be appalling but really it isn't. An inconvenience yes, but it works fine. This isn't the first country I've been to in my travels in which I encountered a similar situation and although at first it is a bit shocking, you quickly realize it's fine and how wasteful people with running water can be, especially considering it is a more precious resource than oil. After a vegetarian lunch (they don't have meat on the island) we went for a hike to the top of the island to watch the sunset. After dinner we were dressed in traditional clothing and headed to a fiesta held in our honor. It was great fun with lots of dancing! The band played a raucous pan flute, much more enjoyable than the traditional Latino music I've been forced to endure for the last three weeks. I know they do this every night for the tourists but I still feel it was the best part of the trip.
In the morning we cruised to the last destination, Isla Taquile, unique because the indigenous men wear knit caps to denote their social status. Red tip means married, white means single, etc. Aside from gawking at the locals and watch a fascinating demonstration of making soap by smashing two plants together with water, there wasn't anything of much interest on the island other than the beautiful view during the two hour walk to the other port where the boat docked. Overall I enjoyed it but there was an general feeling of cattle being pushed through a route and pressure to buy handicrafts or tip people at every turn.
Yet another seven hour bus ride to Arequipa, my last stop in Peru. I wasn't expecting it to be so dry and dusty but it didn't matter...it quickly became my favorite city in Peru. Built by the Spanish, it is more organized and aesthetically pleasing. Cleaner, lacking the endless street vendors, stray dogs and rubble, even the noise level is acceptable. And because of the lack of people selling their crap on the sidewalks, one can actually walk down them comfortably. The Plaza and many other buildings are made of the beautiful white stone, an impressive block long monistary turned tourist attraction and other grand churches and buildings form the city. Unlike any place I've been in Peru, there seems to be some thought and consistency in the design and architecture of the city. There is a lot to do here and I took in a quick but fun white water rafting trip, enjoyed seeing the condors and hiked through Colca Canyon. The two day canyon trek is quite popular but without beautiful vistas and not even a very enjoyable trek (dust, gravel, rocks and full sun exposure) I'm not sure why other than to say you've hiked the deepest canyon in the world. I wish I had more time to spend in Arequipa but Carnival is only a month away and I still have to get through Chile.
As I leave Peru I try to find some good about the people and their culture. The best I can come up with is they don't smoke. That is to say, it was three weeks after my arrival before I smelled any cigarettes and that was in the hostel bar. The other observation is that, somehow, despite the noise and chaos and stray dogs, roaming steer, sheep and alpaca, somehow it just works for them. It's not for me but that's ok, it doesn't have to be. I think it's a shame that I feel this way about Peru because, truthfully, it has some of the most incredible landscape that I've ever seen: the sculptured Andes Mountains with their beautiful valleys, raging rivers and numerous waterfalls, Machu Picchu, the sand dunes of Huachchina--all unrivaled in my experience. But I'm looking forward to Chile if for no other reason than to see an old high school classmate whose parents now live in Santiago. How awesome is it that our schedules will collide and I'll be able to see part of the country through the eyes of native Chileans!
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The Way :-)
Me on The Way. Thanks Heather! :-)
Practice Start
Levels, WV
Bear enjoying a secluded off-leash hike