Johannesburburg, South Africa!

So I guess there is a moderate level of drinking that is ok to reach before a long red-eye flight from one continent to another, I mean really what could go wrong?  Well apparently a lot when you are enjoying your last night in Brasil and self-medicating for a long journey.  Sao Paulo to Johannesburg may have been the worst flight to date, by nobody’s fault but my own.  I sway in the airport for hours, pay $15 for terrible food since I chose to drink my dinner before departure, and once finally getting off the ground, I cannot fall asleep on the plane as all I can think about is the desert in my mouth without a flight attendant in sight to beg for water.  Hours and hours as I slowly sober up and chug my small shot-like glass of water in the morning.  I arrive early afternoon dazed, sleepless and hung over.  Never again, I hope.

My friend grabs me from the airport and we head straight to a year-end company party and then out to a lake for a weekend of camping.  I’m dull and sweaty to say the least but the crew of Zambians and South Africans take me in as we eat, drink and relax lakeside for a few days.

We finally return to the city three days after my arrival.  I am thrilled to have a day without an itinerary as my friend heads off to work.  I spend it soaking up the African sun on the patio in a nice gated community.  There is a pool and a guard and not a walking destination nearby except the local Porsche dealership on the corner.  I have nowhere to go and no way to get there.

The next day I am getting impatient to see Johannesburg.  There is more to see and experience of this city aside from these big walls surrounding us.  He goes to work and I head to the nice underground train put in place since the World Cup in 2010.  The city has improved because of this in many ways.  From the train, I wander to the nearby bus, and take a series of these out to the township of Soweto well known for being an important historical place in the anti-apartheid movement. 

First stop on Vilkazi Street is Nelson Mandela’s former house which is a must-see sight here.  This is basically my first day spending money so the currency exchange rate is lost to me.  I bring around 120 rand for the day’s activities but when it cost me around 40 on transportation one way, I realize I’m in trouble.  This museum alone costs 60 rand for entrance which is around $8US so yes I have less than $20 for a day sightseeing in the city.  I start talking with a couple just finishing the museum hoping they can clarify that it really isn’t that great and I can take a picture of the outside and call it good as I joke about my poor planning.  The Nigerian couple takes pity and offers me 100 rand for my museum viewing for the day.  I politely decline many times, embarrassed until finally their persistence wins.  Oh wow, the girl who seeks out donations at museums!  But it really was so great to see along with the Hector Pieterson Museum and memorial.  Thanks to those people! I will pay it forwardJ

After seeing the house and getting a refresher on the history of the amazing Mr. Mandela, I wander up the street and a local starts talking with me.  I have my guard up as I always do especially in new places. Does he want money or a date?  Turns out neither and I have a new friend and free local tour guide!  We wander the town for hours as the African sun takes its wrath out on my skin.  I am able to see so much and learn about so much through this guy, even going through the slums which is always at the top of the list visiting anywhere.  One long day with almost no money and I have a new friend and a great experience.  We make plans to meet up the following day and see the central part of Joburg.

Well I still don’t know this guy’s name.  He said it once and I didn’t understand it, but by now it’s too late to ask again and ‘hey you’ will have to work.  We walk for the entire day from downtown to historical centers and museums, over the Mandela Bridge and then a 3 hour trek to a natural reserve park.  Amazing day and I am exhausted again.  I like this city more and more as I discover it through the eyes of a local.  I take in one more day of relaxing and on my final day, I ambitiously plan to see three museums.  I make it to two, ending at a brewery and call it a success.  

My bags are packed and I am ready to get to Uganda. Two short flights and a late night arrival away from seeing some of my favorite people in the world!

 

...and now Brasil is competing with Colombia for my heart!

Brasil, my final destination in South America.  Just as I thought I was understanding and speaking better Spanish, I am once again lost with the local language.  Portuguese is beautifully frustrating.  The pronunciation is killing me as I butcher my few known words with a strong Spanish-English accent.   I start by finding an English-Brasilian Portuguese dictionary, get some lessons from the guys working at my hostel and hope for the best.  The best has yet to come  as I get by with Spanish, English, very little Portuguese and a lot of gesturing.  As a friend put it, say everything as if you are complaining and get lazy about pronunciation.   I usually just smile and respond with sim (yes)!

My first stop is Iguassu Falls, a massive sheet of falls bordering Argentina and Brasil.  It is absolutely amazing.  I spent one day on the Argentina side (stamp in the passport…check) touring with a retired couple from Spain.  Great Spanish practice and good company as we wander the park all day.  The following day was the Brasilian side with a German couple and a bath of heavy mist from the falls.  I make good friends with a few of the local guys who work at the hostel.  It’s low season so the place is quieter but that means I have a built in friend at the bar every night for Portuguese practice and capirinia lessons (the famous Brasilian cocktail). The following day I am coerced into visiting the Itapu Dam bordering and shared by Paraguay and Brasil.  Massive concrete dam…that about sums it up.  The entire time I thought about how I could have spent those 50 reais better.  None the less, I say good-bye to all my friends and head to airport for my flight up north to Salvador.

I have plans to meet a friend in a hostel when I arrive and we will travel to the nearby island of Morro do Sao Paulo.  He is a someone I met briefly while traveling Europe, but travel friendships are not necessarily gauged by the length of time you spend together and more so the good times you spent exploring new places, a mutual love of travel and facebook updates help a bit as well.  We catch a 3 hour   ride to the island on a small boat that caught every bump in every wave. I spent most of this time on the side of the boat convincing myself I would survive and arrive with all my stomach’s contents. We both vowed to not speak of the hell ride again.  We loosely plan to spend three days here. On day five, we have become so comfortable and lazy that walking to the beach three minutes away seems like a gigantic task sometimes too hard to tackle. 

This place is perfect. Plenty of sun, white beaches, cheap drinks delivered as you lay on the sand and we are living here for about $25 per day.  We understand the seriousness of our situation. If we do not move soon, we may never leave.  We drag ourselves onto a boat early in the morning with two more travel partners joining our crew- Yan from Czech Republic and Patrick from Switzerland.  I am the solo female traveling with three guys.  Conversation has quickly turned from travel experience and life goals to hot women, bodily functions and smagma.  So the journey continues…

We catch a series of boats and buses and arrive later that night in the town on Lencois surrounded by a natural playground of eroded stones, natural waterfalls and slides, mountains and more.  We find a cheap spot to crash, which is really someone’s home with a few extra rooms, but with a great breakfast and even better hosts we are content.  Once again, we may have to be pried away from this location.  A morning hike into the unknown takes us through a desolate landscape starving for water and opens up into a natural pool surrounded by eroded rocks.  We spend the day swimming, sliding down and exploring the rocks, watching locals surf the wet rocks and the boys are entertained for way too long with small fish eating the dead skin off their feet.   We eat pizza, meet more locals and drink, drink, drink.  Tomorrow we will be departing for the ultimate destination, Capao – a hidden hippie town in the mountains.  Dreadlocked Yan is in heaven as we settle in to our dirty, cavelike hostel.  By the time we leave, we walk down the dirt road and wave to all our local friends.  We saw a small fraction of the must-see nature spots in this area alone but we are extremely proud of ourselves that we hiked two days of the five we were there.  An overnight bus back to Salvador and we will be catching a plane to Rio de Janiero. 

The world famous city of Rio, known for its parties and beautiful people, is a bit intimidating. Didn’t expect to say this, but I am tired of drinking. I would rather get a good night’s sleep and wander a city than stay out all night and feel like death all day.  And then I discovered the first street party and cheap caipirinias.  Sobriety and more than a few hours of sleep are unseen the entire time.  My favorite day in Rio was spent in the largest favela there – Rocinha where we volunteered at a children’s daycare then walked all the way up the hill for the most amazing view of Rio and ended with a sunset on the beach.  Favelas take up around 70% of Rio’s population and are known for being dangerous but that is a major part of the city and I was so happy to be able to experience that.   Of course I saw the famous Cristo overlooking the city, some steps, some arches, a church, a park and beaches. Good-bye Rio as I venture to my final destination of Sao Paulo!

Well Sao Paulo has a reputation, and not usually a good one.  It is the biggest city in the country and one of the biggest in South America as well.  Crime, kidnappings and bulletproof cars are the extent of my knowledge here.  Turns out I didn’t get robbed, kidnapped or shot at but I was able to see some very interesting things through a lot of walking good and bad streets all around the city.  I met up with my travel partner on the island and stayed at his place while I saw a few sights and prepped for the big trip across the pond to Africa.  I am trying to live in the moment and enjoy where I am, but the only thing on my mind now is those awesome kids in Uganda that I am a week away from hugging.

 I made some great friends and met many locals so I have a place to stay WHEN I return for the World Cup in 2014! So many great memories and so much more to explore from this big, beautiful country.  See you soon Brasil!!

 

Colombia, mi amor!

At this point I am well past Colombia but it is still a fresh and pleasant memory.  I survived the excessive bus ride from eastern Ecuador to the Colombian coastal town of Santa Marta.  Most thought it was a horrendous idea and experience, but in reality it was one of my favorite bus trips.  Amazing scenery, plenty of Spanish practice and most importantly, discovering the limits of what I can handle.  This didn’t come close the limit, so I have higher hopes for the upcoming overland travel around Africa.

Santa Marta is a humid, coastal city lesser known for its beaches and more for the breathtaking nature that surrounds it.  I raced here to meet up with a Portland friend and others.  I register at the hostel and head up to my dorm room, when I see a familiar face come down the stairs.  It takes us each a minute, but it is one of the guys I met  on the terrible bus ride stranded in a desert in Peru.  We meet again two countries and two months later.  Ahh the small, small world of backpackers!  The “gringo trail” through South America is well paved and you never know where you will meet someone again.  I was thrilled to see a familiar face even though I knew him the length of the bus trip and don’t remember his name.

I meet up with my Portland friends and we make a plan to head to the remote town of Minca for a day before they go WOOFing (Working On Organic Farms)- I think? We stay in a treehouse hostel on a hilltop overlooking the city of Santa Marta and explore a swimming hole, waterfalls and river in a refreshing downpour of rain.  Nostalgia of our rainy town in the states came with it.  We part ways and I head back to the city way too soon.  It was a necessary break from the noise, traffic, aggressive vendors and extreme heat.  I catch a shared taxi back on the crazy road.  Three Colombians and the gringo in a car that appears to be totally gutted aside from bench seats, a shifter and crowbar for an emergency brake.  The rain continues to pour and none of the windows stay up except for mine as we wind through the potholes, mud and other cars.  I can’t stop smiling the entire time.  Another sweaty day in Santa Marta and I am off to my next coastal town, Cartagena.

I was itching to get out of the heat but given numerous warnings that Cartagena was worse.  Sadly, they were not exaggerating.  I step of the bus and lose my breath in the sticky air.  I meet some of my new roommates and we head out to explore the town.  A big castle, some giant shoes and most memorably a dirty, somewhat dangerous market are the main sites.  I will do a lot to get some cheap, fresh vegetables even if it means walking through fish guts and yelling at a man following us like prey.  The day ends with a walk with some hostel friends to “the wall” surrounding the city for drinks and a view.  I’m on an impossible mission to get a tan so make the beach a daily stop.   It’s exhausting to do anything and takes some serious digging for energy to leave the partially air conditioned comfort of the hostel.  Great friends and memories, but I must see more of the country. 

Thirteen hours to the highly acclaimed city of Medellin.  I am greeted by a cooler nearly perfect temperature.  I successfully navigate the metro system with my big backpacks and avoid eye contact from annoyed people as I push my way through the crowds unconsciously hitting people with my pack on every slight turn.  My backpack is my worst enemy on travel days and sometimes my only friend in new places or long bus terminal waits.  I get excited every time I see that she has arrived at the next destination with a little more grease and grime from her adventure under the bus.

Medellin is different from any other South American city I have seen.  It’s clean, smooth running, law abiding and the people are so friendly and helpful.  The architecture and transportation resembles that of Europe more than South America.  Tucked in a valley, it is surrounded by green hills and most homes and buildings are constructed of red brick.  A tram ride (metrocable) up one of the hills gives us a beautiful view and chance to walk through a poorer but equally beautiful part of the city.  I meet up with two friends from Cartagena and their local hosts for some drinks at the famous El Poblado district.  I am invited to join in an adventure with them tomorrow, destination unknown.  I sign up immediately.  The next day I check out of the hostel, store my bags and notify them of my plan to return and catch a bus that night to a town in the east.  I return to my hostel over 48 hours later to shocked staff and friends inquiring as to where the hell I had been.  The unknown adventure just kept going and I was thrilled to be along for the ride.  Paragliding over Medellin was halted after rain, but we got some great views and a wild idea to head to Santa Fe, a small vacation town an hour or so away.  This turned into an overnight stay and an invite to ride horses in the mountains outside Medellin the next day.  We made that easy decision and spent a wonderful day in a remote picturesque home and ranch meeting more great local people.  Thanks to some great Colombian hosts and new friends, I am officially in love with Colombia!

I finally depart for Salento, located in the ZonaCafecito (coffee region).  Laura and Julie, my American friends and fellow adventurers from Cartagena and Medellin meet me the following day.  We meet up with a local man who tells us all about town and the region.  Our hike through Valle de Cocora the following day starts with a 30 minute ride standing on the back of a packed jeep to the trail head.  We cross numerous aged wooden walking bridges, through the forest and hills, a hummingbird sanctuary before reaching an opening of green lush farmland and palm trees peeking into the clouds.  Laura and I walk to a local coffee farm the following day where we are able to see the process, meet some of the farmers and try some coffee in a small coffee production.  My stomach decided it did not like coffee a few years ago and after putting up a serious fight, I finally gave in.  I have not touched it since, but from day two in Colombia I have been forcing my body into it and enjoy this great cup of black coffee.  Our local host joins us to the nearby city of Armenia for some live music by his friends and beers before Laura and I head out on our midnight bus ride to Bogota. 

My final day in Colombia has come.  Bogota is a big crazy city. I meet up with a local friend for some sightseeing which is great but overall, I don’t get that warm cozy feeling from the city or people.  I guess it’s better because leaving will be easier. I am excited about seeing Brazil, but also disappointed that I did not see nearly as much as I wanted to here.  I know I will return for the unseen, the seen that I must see again and all my great friends and the others I have yet to meet.  None the less, my departure is bittersweet.  Off to Brasil with a big space in my heart for Colombia.

Why I travel

I write this after endless hours staring out a bus window crossing the country of Colombia.  44 hours on three buses in 2 days, breakdowns, delays and a lot of patience testing.  Why do I do this?  Why do I give up so many comforts and almost everything I know to be at the mercy of others that I am struggling to understand.  The reasons why came to me so much easier than one reason why not.

I travel to discover the world around me.  I am one small droplet in the ocean of the world and my country is one small piece of this big separated puzzle.  There are plants, animals, fruits, mountains, deserts and so many more landscapes that I never imagined existed in my small corner of the planet.  Now, here they are challenging me to climb them, eat them, smell them and appreciate them in all their beauty.  I try my hardest to take it all in.

I travel to put my life in perspective.  I have it good, really good.  I was born to a middle class family in the United States.  I never questioned a good education, food on the table for every meal, a doctor when I was sick, a warm bed and everything I could want or need available to me.  This is a dream to so many and taken for granted by me for most of my life.  Its difficult to truly appreciate this until you meet the people who dont have it.  The child begging on the street corner who probably hasn't had a meal in days and sleeps on the ground in a dirt hut who's only dream is to go to school and have a chance at making something of his life.  The woman who sells produce in the hot sun for 10 hours a day to hopefully make enough money to bring food home to her children that night knowing that she will probably do this the rest of her life.  I see these situations and so many more walking down the streets in the countries I see.  Does it make me uncomfortable? Sad? Angry? Discouraged?  Yes, at times but in reality this is life.  Real, raw reality. This is life for these people and although I see it as much less than ideal, it is all they know.  They will spend their life struggling to obtain the unobtainable which in reality is what we are all doing whether that is in the dirt on the side of the road in a third world country or a high rise office in New York City.  Through travel, I have been privileged enough to get to see others living and truly appreciate all that I have and what little I really need which has nothing to do with money.

I travel to be forced out of my big comfort bubble and into this wild, crazy world.  When I leave my country and arrive in a new place, somewhere flying over some ocean, I am part of a self-induced inner stripping of all that I am used to.  When I step into a new country, I must be open to all that they have to offer me.  Culture, people, food, music, language and lifestyle are being offered up but I must be open and have a big space inside me to absorb it all.  Learning about a new way to prepare a meal, I cannot be thinking how it "should be done," and instead appreciating this different way that has worked so well for so long.  I did not leave my country to be the same person with the same thoughts and judgements in a new place.  I am here for their culture, history and way of living and my old ways will probably be waiting for me if I decide to accept them when I return home.

I travel to meet people. I am privileged enough to have amazing friends from all over the world.  Traveling friendships are usually very brief and much more genuine and raw.  You dont have much time together, but a day or two friendship can seem like years.  You explore new places together, or are lucky enough to learn a city through the eyes of a local.  You learn about people's countries, languages, family and visions on life.  People share ideas and thoughts, find commonalities and differences and learn more about the world.  Every destination has the potential for a lifetime friendship in 24 hours or less.  I have the deepest gratitude for the friends I have through travel thus far and look forward to so many more that I have yet to meet.

I travel to challenge myself.  How much discomfort can I handle?  How will I get to points A, B and C with a language barrier and no knowledge of the area.  Laying on the beach is wonderful, but its also easy.....too easy for me.  I justified my current beach visit after two days of bus travel.  The more difficult it is, the more it is appreciated.  That can apply to anything, but travel especially for me.  The more difficult and different the better.  With every obstacle I overcome, I am empowered to challenge myself to more.  This confidence permeates to every aspect of my life and brings with it new and exciting possibilities for the future.

I travel for all the reasons that I have yet to discover.  The more I travel, the more I grow and learn about myself.  I look forward to having the opportunity to embrace every new adventure to come with the most gratitude for the privilege of being welcomed to new and wonderful places and meeting equally wonderful people.

"The world is a book, and those who do not travel read only one page." -St. Augustine

Pachemama, Escuela de Espanol y mas....

Banos is definitely a great place to do a lot or nothing in.  I choose the latter after a few adventure days. I go in waves of constant socialization to self-induced isolation.  I am loving my alone time and put very little effort, ok no effort into jumping in on drinking games and bar crawls with other gringos. I am killing time while I wait for my "friend" or friend of a friend who I may or may not have met from Portland who now lives in Quito.  He is itching to get out of the city for the weekend and I am fine with a few more days in this place.  Turns out he isn't a wierdo. I really wasn't concerned and had images of us skipping down the cobblestone streets singing Queen's "Your my Best Friend."  Well that basically sums it up, and Im re-motivated to explore some more.  I repeat the waterfall bike ride from a few days before with him and do the required visit to the thermal baths that the town is known for. 

One evening as we wander the town for food and supplies, we see a poster at a cultural center for something related to Pachamama - Quetchua for Mother Earth.  It appears to be free and as we watch the setup begin, decide we will come back and check it out for a bit.  We stoll into some dancers performing and three hours later we sneak out nearing the end of it all after witnessing and participating in a very thorough event. It was a sacrificial ceremony for Pachamama performed on large circles of rose petals and fruits and more food and alcohol in the massive rose covered center.  The ceremony participants all wore white and were staged at different points of the circles.  With the combination of my poor Spanish, scratchy microphone and a muffled voice, we didnt stand a chance to understand what was going on.  A local pan flute player next to us helped translate, in Spanish of course, so I was able to grasp being silent, breathing in deeply and feeling and listening to it in your heart.  Then the arm raising, hand holding and hugging slowly proceed followed by sharing of cheecha (a fermented maize drink) and grasping a handful of saw dust as clouds of Paulo Santo (a type of wood burned like incence) filled the air.  When it came time for everyone to line up and take their turn at the altar, a bit of panic set in.  At this point, all but the few gringos in white who were actively in the ceremony had left.  Everyone seemed to know what was going on except us.  We knelt down on the inner circle of petals and threw our sawdust in a smoldering fire, grabbed a grape and ate it, and then were told we had to sacrifice one as well.  We get up to leave and are unaware that we need to exit by circling around the altar and cluelessly stare as they attempt to direct us.  Whew, made it out of the circle but it didnt go so smoothly.  Oh gringos.  Good thing we stuck around for dancing, kind of like the train followed by men drinking and spitting unknown liquids in our faces.  We had some good laughs after we snuck out nearing midnight. I still have very little knowledge of what happened and why but overall a wonderful cultural experience that Im glad I was a part of.  Love you Pachamama!!

We roll into Quito in the afternoon and settle into his place, which happens to have an amazing view of some of the city and a volcano.  I have enrolled in Spanish school and will be attending it all week.  I'm not used to early mornings at all anymore and 6am comes way too soon...every day.  I take a local bus to Old Town where the school is located but not before climbing an steep hill and staircase of 253 steps, not that anyone is counting.  By day five, the pain of it eases but never really goes away.  School is in a historic part of the city and I enjoy wandering around before and after class.  I see protests (let me specify peaceful to the worriers) and parades, churches and big city squares.

The market is usually the highlight of my day.  The closest one is the Mercado Central in a big warehouse building two stories tall.  They have everything you can imagine including lots of meat even cow legs with hooves attached (aka vegetarian's nightmare), herbs, flowers, fresh juices, hot meals for cheap and of course lots of fruits and veggies.  I am in heaven with plenty of cheap produce and a kitchen to cook in every night.  I miss having a refrigerator and being able to create my own healthier meals instead of just eating whatever can be found cheap and meat free around random towns.

I meet some of his friends throughout the week and one offers to host a going away party.  Im not sure that five days somewhere constitutes a fiesta with people I just met, but who am I to argue?  It is a good reason to drink, cook and hang out with some great people in Quito.  A wonderful night is preceeded by a viscious hangover and good-bye to my latest "home." 

Onto Otavalo and inching closer to the Colombian border.  A cute little town known for its massive market.  I wander aimlessly through almost every street and find the produce market again, but this time I'm lacking a kitchen and sadly leave with a little bit of fruit as little red tomatoes, ripe avocados and all their veggie friends plead for me to take them.  Poor little guys. 

Tomorrow I will stop in a couple small towns nearby, retrieve my bags from Otavalo and try to get across the border.  I am clueless as to how this goes or where I will end up but Im just going as far as I can.  Two quick weeks in Colombia and hopefully onto Argentina. My days of lazy travel are limited and will be scarce. Here I go...

Hola Ecuador!

So hopped on a last minute bus from Peru to Ecuador.  A little nervous about the border crossing but it was a breeze.  A moment of panic when the English speaking border guy (who I continued to respond to in only Spanish) flipped through my passport and asked if I had a visa.  I did my research and didnt think it was needed. "Es necesario?!"  As long as Im out in 3 months, I'm all good. Whew! Back onto the cozy bus for some more sleep. I probably spent close to 14 hours sleeping on the 18 hour bus ride.  Don't mean to brag, but I am getting really, really good at sleeping on buses.  All the life skills I am aquiring on this trip....

We arrive in Guanquil around noon.  I have no place to stay, no idea where to go or even what the currency is in this new place.  I probably could have sacrificed an hour of sleep to do a little Lonely Planet research of this country.  Alternatively, I think it is a sign that I am getting really good at traveling.  Stress levels are at an all time low even if I have no money or a place to sleep at the moment.  I start talking to two guys who were on the bus with me as we wait for luggage.  They dont have a place either and we agree to team up on a taxi into town to find a place to stay.  An hour later I am wandering the streets with my new friends from Israel, we have a place to stay and turns out the currency is the US dollar.  It all worked out quite smoothly. Good karma or master traveler? Maybe a bit of both.  Well one night in this ugly, cement prison of a city and we are on our separate ways.  They are off to the Galapagos Islands.  I have nowhere near the funds for that amazing trip so catch a bus to the recommended beach town of Montanita. 

An Ecuadorian chats me up on the bus also headed to the beach.  She gives me some Ecuador history, recommendations on what to see and things to do and most importantly assures me a place to stay at her friends hostel because of course I have not booked a room anywhere.  She works on the Galapagos and is on a holiday inland.  We hop off the bus on the side of the road and are greeted by Cheebo, the happy and helpful hostal owner of my new home.  After a good meal and meeting some more friends, I am guided up 3 intense flights of stairs to my corner room (my own room!) with a balcony and hammocks that face the street.  Perfect! I sleep like a rock and wake up for a beach date with Elizabeth.

The next 4 or 5 days blur together as we wandered the small town, lay on the beach, eat the freshest seafood and catch almost all happy hours.  Montanita is packed with surfers, tourists and lots of Argentinians all looking for some fun, waves and sun.  By the time we leave, it feels like home.  We have our routines, our favorite bars and restaurants but the best is walking down the street and greeting new friends from all directions.  I could stay here for a long time, like many do.  The sun is much needed after cold Peru and more importantly it is a place that feels like 'home' which is a very loosely used term and harder to find when you only stay in a place for a couple days at a time.

Well we go out with a bang the night before departure.  Ladies night at a bar means free drinks until midnight.  Free drinks are great, free drinks on a travel budget are amazing and I dont take this lightly and I lap the bar like a profession athlete.  The next morning we race to catch our bus, lacking sleep and clean clothes. I cant resist one last bowl of ceviche - super fresh shrimp, fish, octopus, and clams 'cooked' in lots of lime juice.  Really not the best selection on a hungover stomach before boarding a rough bus ride.  Miraculously, I keep it together and arrive back in Guanquil's bus terminal.  Elizabeth is heading in another direction to visit her family.  I have a new travel partner who I met in Montanita.  We are going to Cuenca, a colonial town in the south.  Anna will be living there and enrolling in Spanish school and Im just stopping in for a few days.

We proceed to spend the next few days wandering around town and getting so lost that we finally hail a taxi to a point of reference.  Beautiful city and of course more great people from everywhere.  Laundry is in desperate need of being washed.  I have said "in the next town" for about five towns now.  We drop it off in the morning at a lavanderia before an all day adventure.  Everything needs washing and I wear the least dirty of my clothes.  We return around 6pm to find the place closed and the woman near the shop says it is closed for the day and tomorrow as it is Sunday.  All my clothes inaccessible for close to two days and I planned to leave tomorrow, shit.  I am able to get a phone number and beg the hostel receptionist to call.  I am still not confident in my spanish over the phone.  You can't gesture if needed and they dont automatically speak slower and easier when they see my blonde hair and pale skin.  A few phone calls later and over an hour waiting and freezing outside the place and I am in possession of my clothes again...much fresher and more appreciated now.

Departure day, I know I am leaving but dont know where to. Riobamba for a wild train ride or Banos for some nature and a bragged up tourist hot spot.  I decide on Banos at the bus stop and am on my way shortly after.  All day on the bus and arriving at a hostal lucky enough to grab a bed.  The next day my Australian roommate is checking out but first taking a bike ride to some villages and waterfalls.  Sounds like a lot of work, but she ensures me its downhill.  I fight my laziness to read and wander the city for the day and rent a bike with her.  Well, it definitely is not all downhill and hiking up and down the big hills and cliffs to numerous waterfalls is sweaty and exhausting but we made it.  26km biking and a good amount of hiking.  Nothing too intense but a little shocking on my mostly sedentary body.  The landscape here is absolutely beautiful. Green, rivers, volcanoes and lots more green.  We return exhausted, sunburned and very happy.  She is off to her next destination and I have new roommates-an American and Israeli.  We make plans to go white water rafting in the morning.

Any day I have to set an alarm is pain.  We manage to get out and meet our fellow rafters.  I get some good Spanish practice with an Ecuadorian from Cuenca.  The water is cold and rafting is great. No near death experiences like The Nile which is fine. Also no serious injuries or lost people and once again, absolutely beautiful landscapes. Another successful day!



I love those moments when you can step outside of the immediate time and place to really appreciate where you are and what you are experiencing right then and there.  Those moments seem to be happening to me a lot and I am doing my best to take it all in gratefully.

The south and my farewell to Peru

Well I have taken a big hiatus again, but here I begin another attempt.  Got an amazing deal on a bus ride to Puno. 20 soles (approx $7) for a 7-8 hour trip. Almost half the price of the other companies and I am thrilled.  First, I sit on a cement platform with all locals, some appear to be relocating permanently, others bringing the month's crop share with them.  The only gringa leaving one touristy town and going to another.  Then the bus chugs and screaches in, smoking and rusted. This looks nothing like the shiny bus in the picture they advertise.  Inside is even worse. Im not a germy person at all but I make all attempts to ensure my skin does not touch the multicolored stained seat. Breathing from my mouth helps me adjust to the smell as its clear this is a bus they no longer cleaned. I drop my only knife on the ground and count it as a loss.  A man stands up and begins to speak for the next 2 hours, takes a break and continues again.  He would be shut up in 1 minute on a bus in the states but no one seems to mind. I put on my ipod and zone him out.  We continue to stop at every small town we pass on any street corner where someone may want a lift.  I panic that my bag stored below will be gone at every stop and vow to not 'scum it' again with buses.  I arrive late to a dodgy looking hostel and endless knocking and doorbell rings finally awaken the receptionist. Its not so pleasant inside either but I am so happy to have a bed and my bags. I groggily book a boat ride for the morning.

Lake Titicaca- remember it from geography class but I think mostly because of the name that started a wave of giggles in a middle school crowd.  Turns out its a huge lake bordering Peru and Bolivia and its pretty damn amazing.  I meet Eduar and his friend on the boat and they liven things up with pictures every minute or two, beers in the morning and yelling "Venezuela" (their country) from the top of the boat.  We head out to the floating islands created by tying reeds together.  About 5 familes can live on one of these and they last about 30 years before a new one is made.  Their livelihood is fishing which they trade in surrounding towns.  A few hours on the islands and we head back to the ugly, cement pit of Puno.  Grab my bags and off to the bus station headed for Arequipa.

Arequipa is huge.  The bus drives endlessly on highways and streets before arriving in the station.  The taxi driver does the same.  I arrive at a hostel late again and find they are booked. Thats what I get for always risking it and not making a reservation.  An hour of looking and I find a place and bed.  My roommate and I head to the market in the morning and she gives me a tour of the town as she has been here awhile.  I head back to my first hostel of choice and check out info for tours on the well known Colca Canyon.  It is the second largest canyon in the world, next to another canyon in the south of Peru, yep no Grand Canyon.  I meet Sean and we sign up for a 3 day trek.  After a day of doing nothing, we are off for some hiking.  Physical activity is still lacking and this is something you can't really appreciate as much from a bus window.  Our hiking crew consists of the nations of Peru, New Zealand, England, Spain and the US(times 2).  We stop and see the gigantic condors flying through the canyon for an hour or so before they move on and we are forced to continue our mission. Sean and 5 ladies hike down the canyon, sweating and chatting.  Seeing where we came from and how far we descended is pretty amazing, but not as great as dipping our hot, blistered feet in the stream below.  We arrive at our bungalows, eat a good meal and share a bottle of Pisco and some card games.

The next day we can barely limp out of bed. Some yoga and an amazing breakfast and we hit the trail again.  Today we hike to the bottom of the canyon to "the oasis" which is a green and blue heaven in the dusty and dry canyon.  There are beds, food and pools waiting for us and motivation makes the hike go much easier.  An intense and neverending match of volleyball ensues at our camp as Peru vs. el mundo (the world). It is a popular game in Peru and we have some competition. Beer is at stake and we find all the energy we have left to defend the world!  No explanation as to how, but noone got beers.

We have been warned that day 3 is the rough one. Hiking at 5am straight up the canyon as we hope to avoid too much of the strong sun.  Thoughts of dying on the side of the canyon don't escape me as we sweat and struggle for breath up the hill.  The victory sit at the top was priceless and our crew is now a family. 

Back to Arequipa and planning out the next adventure.  Begona from Spain and I have decided to go to Ica and Huacahina for some sandboarding and relaxation at another little oasis.  In the endless sand dunes of this part of Peru, there is the little gem of Huacachina.  In the center is a huge pool of water surrounded by palm trees.  We venture out on a big dune buggy and our driver sets us up on various hills, we strap in our boards and go down.  The hills get longer and steeper but the sand prevents you from getting an excessive amount of speed, usually.  Well I'm pretty comfortable on the snowboard and hills and get a little cocky after a few runs.  Logically, I get as much speed as I can before attempting to carve around sharply.  Well the sand isn't quite as forgiving and I sharply cartwheel down the hill.  A little whiplash, minor head trauma, major embarassment but the worst part is being completely covered in sand.  It is covering every inch of my body, hair, ears, nose. Had to go fast, didn't I?  Well another good-bye and I am on my way back to Lima.

Oh Lima, didn't really miss you but here I am again.  I finally retreive my passport from the embassy with a beautiful Brazilian visa inside! Got to spend a day with Andy before he flew back to Denmark, said good-bye to my favorite Limonians (just made that one up and pretty sure its not the correct term, but my Lima friends non-the-less) and I am onto Trujillo. Two days on the coastal town of Trujillo and the beach of the nearby Huanchaco to visit some more great Peruvian friends that I made along the trip. 

Overall, I feel like I was able to see a lot of Peru. 6 weeks, easily over 100 hours of bus time logged, endless miles, so many new friends and adventures but I must be on my way. Ecuador and four other countries require my attention as well.  Viva la Peru!!!