Isla Del Sol - Lake Titicaca

The morning after our Colca Canyon adevnture, we woke up pretty early again to catch a bus to Copacabana and cross the border into Bolivia. 

We probably didn't wake up early enough because we didn't realize we'd have to pay for bus tickets at the hostel from when we had booked them the night before and had to find an ATM which was not nearby. 
We made our bus by two minutes, but that's par for the course with Sinead. 

Crossing the border was pretty uneventful.  We got stamped out pretty quickly in Peru then walked across the border to Bolivia.  I had to buy a $130 USD Visa to enter, even though virtually no citizens from other countries have to pay. 

I had been told earlier that if you didn't have copies of your passport photo for the Visa, the authorities would go through a book of old pictures to find someone who looks like you, but much to my disappointment, they must have caught up with the system and sent me next door to the copy machine. 
As soon as we got to Copacabana we booked a boat to Isla Del Sol.  The boat ride over was beautiful and we sat on the top of the boat taking in the gorgeous views.

Isla Del Sol is an island on the Bolivian side of Lake Titicaca.  At an altitude of 4,000 meters (12,000 feet,)  Lake Titicaca is the highest lake in the world.

Though we had been warned about the steep stairs to the Loki in Cuzco, no one warned us about the stairs in Yumani, the southern tip of Isla Del Sol, where we were dropped off by our boat.  As soon as we got off the boat, we were approached by a man who offered to carry our bags.  Both Sinead and I were all for it.

Everything in Bolivia is super cheap,(7 Bolivianos = $1 USD,) so for 15B we were more than happy to let the man carry our bags.  The hill was STEEP and it had been a few days since we had been up in such high altitude. 

By the time we both went to the bathroom, the man was gone, but there were two little boys who convinced us that they were stronger than us and that it would be much easier for them than it would be for us.  "For you [huffing and puffing noise,] ... for us, mas facile [very easy]."

Though I'm pretty sure it would have be considered illegal child labor in the USA - they couldn't have been any older than 12 - they were very convincing.  "Muy fuerte," they kept telling us, "I'm very strong."

On the way up, we took a few breaks.  At first we thought it was for us - even though we were just carrying our day packs, the altitude was a killer - but then we realized it was for them too.  My bag weighed about 30 pounds when I left, and it's definitely added weight and Sinead's bag is even bigger.  Our bags took up 3/4 of they bodies.
I'm not going to lie and say we didn't feel bad, but hey, we're contributing to the local economy, and if it wasn't us, they would have been carrying some other cold hearted people's bags up the hill.

We tried to walk a bit behind them so that everyone else passing us didn't know we were as pathetic as we were, but being out of shape from the altitude also contributed to our lag. 

At one of the breaks the boys convinced us to go to a closer hostel.  "Solo diez mas minutas," they told us, "un altro e venti." This hostel "is only ten more minutes, the other is twenty."

They told us the views were beautiful and the hostel was clean.  They even knew all of the pricing.  I'm pretty sure the hostel was owned by one of their family members, but these boys were born salesmen... If they ever decide to leave Isla Del Sol one day, they'll be running very successful companies no doubt.

After arriving and resting a minute, we decided to take a walk.  We had read somewhere, though couldn't remember where or find it again, that there was a great hill to watch the sunset from.  We headed up the hill to find the highest point. 

We found it.  From the top we could see beautiful snow capped mountains on the east and the Temple of the Sun - in Inca mythology, Isla del Sol is the birthplace of the the sun - and beautiful mountains and a setting sun to the west. 

The only problem was that we arrived about 2.5 hours early to watch the sunset.  With everything we do, we always seem to be rushing, but even though we didn't know the exact time the sun set, we could tell - based on the fact that the sun didn't seem to be going anywhere - that there was a lot of time left. 

After sitting on the top of the hill for a while as the temperature dropped, we decided to walk back down a bit to a restaurant that was still on a cliff overlooking the water and order hot chocolates.

"A for effort," I said to Sinead.
"We always get the 'A' for effort," she said, "just never for results."
"That's the motto of our trip," I told her. 

After our hot chocolates and another chilly hour, the sun dipped below the clouds.  Sometimes this can still create a beautiful sunset, but these clouds were too thick and there didn't seem to be any colors. 

We decided to head to the restaurant where we were going to eat dinner, the very highly recommended Las Velas.  Since you have to walk through a Eucalyptus forrest to get there, and 99% of the island still doesn't have power, we figured it would be best to do it while it was still light out. 

In what was abnormal circumstances for us, we found Las Velas easily.  There were actually signs (multiple!) leading visitors along the path.  (Where were these on the way to Dolce Vita, Colca Canyon, and the rest of South America?)

When we got there we realized it was also a great place to watch the subset and there were other backpackers scattered throughout the grounds who were there for the same reason. 

The sunset had gotten more colorful, the sun having dipped below the clouds had illuminated the sky between the clouds and the mountains to a fiery red.  You could see rain clouds storming down and lightning strikes on the mountains across the lake.  Though it wasn't the most beautiful sunset I've ever seen, it was one of the coolest. 

At one point Sinead and I asked one of the other backpackers to take a picture of us.  He was standing alone, so we asked if he had eaten and if he wanted to join us.  He said he was already planning to eat with a group of people and motioned around to all of the other backpackers standing in scattered groups around the hill, but that we could join them if we wanted. 

So, as the sun set, we went into Las Velas and ate dinner by candlelight surrounded by nine new friends from all over the world - Germany, California, Finland, Australia, Ireland, and more.  We ordered three bottles of wine, three pizzas and three lasagnas and shared. 

At the beginning of that day, Sinead and I were the only two people at that table who knew each other.  By the end of the night, we had shared an incredible view, food, drinks, stories, and many laughs.  This experience is exactly what I love about traveling. 

"What is the best thing about traveling?" I thought to myself on the way home.  "Everything," was my answer.

If the world was as happy and friendly and open-minded as backpackers, it would be a much more peaceful place.  

Photos: All taken from Isla del Sol

Two Months Down

Today* marks my two month anniversary in South America.  As  write this, at 5:30 am, it is almost exactly two months to the hour that I was getting dropped off at the airport... heading off on a journey with limitless possibilities and unknown adventures.

I've been on the road almost ten weeks, and exactly 62 days.  In the past month, I've slept in 22 different beds, been on one plane, spent 105 hours in buses, and 17 hours on boats, bringing it to a total of 42 beds, 18 hours on boats, 5 planes and 176 hours in buses since I've left home.

Over the past month, I've mountain biked, ziplined, white water rafted, hiked part of the classic Inca Trail, been to the ancient city of Machu Picchu, summited Machu Picchu Mountain, and attempted to hike Colca Canyon, the second deepest canyon in the world - all in Peru. 

I crossed into Bolivia, and visited Isla del Sol on Lake Titicaca, the world's highest altitude lake, and crawled six levels deep into the mines of Potosi, the highest city in the world. 

I went on a Pampas tour in Rurrenbaque in the Amazon where we went Piranha fishing, came face to face with an anaconda, floated down the Yacuma River whose shores were lined with alligators and crocodiles and swam with pink dolphins. 

I went horseback riding in Tupiza and saw unbelievable mountain scenery.  I slept in a hotel made from Salt in the Salar de Uyuni and took the classic distorted visual perception pictures.

I've seen the sunrise while climbing the stairs to Machu Picchu and the sunset over mountains at both the world's highest altitude lake and the world's largest salt flats. 

I had my phone pickpocketed on a busy street in La Paz and my entire purse stolen in Tupiza as I sat at a table furthest from the door with my back against the wall in a virtually empty restaurant as I ate dinner with five friends, none of whom saw anyone walk in. 

I currently have no debit cards, and my only access to money is through a very expensive cash advance on my one remaining credit card. 

I've learned to NEVER try to import electronics into South America after spending 18 hours in six different offices trying to claim the replacement phone my parents sent me. 

As much as it sucks to have lost the phone, the credit cards and the money that was stolen, what breaks my heart is that all of the pictures from the past month were on a memory card that was in my purse.

I began traveling with Sinead, a girl I had met my first week on Colombia, but barely knew when we decided to meet up in Cuzco and it's been the best decision I've made. Along the way we picked up Mona and Mark and created our own travel family.

Sadly, Mark had to leave us early, but today, Sinead, Mona and I will cross into Chile to visit San Pedro de Atacama, which is supposed to have some of the best star gazing in the world and then head to Argentina for Christmas in Salta and New Years in Beunos Aires. 

I feel as if I really hit my travel groove this month.  I love being on the road and seeing beautiful places and meeting new people on daily basis. 

This month has been filled with ups and downs, but even during the downtimes I feel lucky to be traveling. 

I still haven't booked a ticket home, and though I have a loose plan for the next couple months, anything can happen. 

Pictures
1- Sunset over the Salar de Uyuni
2- Mark, Sinead Mona and I on the Pampas tour
3- Mona, Sinead and I at the sunset on Salar de Uyuni
4- Me over Tupiza
5- Me above Machu Picchu
6- La Paz, Bolivia
7- Distorted images on the Salar de Uyuni

*Actually written on December 18, despite my delayed publishing

"Your Adventure Starts Here" - The Bus Ride From Hell

From  La Paz, our plan was to head to Rurrenabaque in the Amazon to do a Pampas tour.  Like most touristy attractions in South America, there are tons of companies to choose from - all basically offering the same experience, but differing in quality of lodging, transportation, and food.  We decided to book our tour once we arrived in Rurrenabaque.

From La Paz, there are three ways to get to Rurrenabaque.  There's a 45 minute plane ride, a cool experience since you begin around 3,800 meters (14,4p00 feet) and fly down to about 400 meters (1,200 feet.)  Except for the take off, the plane basically glides down the entire time. This is also the most expensive option, costing 600 Bolivianos - or $85 USD - each way.

The next option is to book a private jeep, which depending on your group, costs about 350 Bolivianos ($50 USD) per person round trip.

The last option is the bus.  The bus costs 90 Bolivianos ($13 USD.)  The South American backpacker's bible "South America on a Shoestring" estimates that the bus journey can take anywhere from 18 hours to 3 days.  Despite several warnings AGAINST taking the bus, in a moment of temporary insanity, I let Mark convince me that taking the bus wouldn't be that bad and we'd be saving tons of money.

Sinead had gone to bike Death Road that day, and left us her passport telling us that she "trusted us" to plan the journey.  I can almost guarantee she'll never let me plan anything on my own ever again.

Our other companion, Mona, had no idea what she was getting herself into, either. Sinead and I had met Mona on our Machu Picchu trek and were happy to run into her at the Wild Rover in La Paz.  She had also wanted to go to Rurrenabaque and decided to come along.

Coming from Peru, where buses are comfortable and clean, I couldn't fathom that the bus would really be as bad as everyone had said.  I'd been on a 24 hour bus before... I could do it again.  But I had yet to experience a Bolivian bus ride.

Despite knowing everything we knew, we booked the bus for 11am the next day.  After incessantly badgering Mark to go to the grocery store to get food for our journey, he finally relented.  His original plan was to get on the bus with "a packet of crisps [potato chips] and a Sprite," and swore he'd be happy.  My final argument that won him over was that I get very cranky when I'm hungry and since he'd be sitting next to me, this was really something that would benefit both of us.

We went to the market and bought our food for the next day.  I bought the food for girls and Mark bought his own.  For the three girls, I bought 12 sandwich rolls, a jar of strawberry jam, a box of granola bars, two liters of strawberry drinkable yogurt (which we shared with Mark), a pack of pringles and two of our favorite candy bars.  Mark bought 5 rolls, 5 pieces of ham and 5 pieces of cheese - despite knowing it would be a hot bus ride and there would, obviously, be no refrigeration - not that he cared.  He didn't even plan on refridgerating the meat or cheese overnight before we left, swearing that after 11 months of travel his stomach was strong enough to handle it.  Ultimately, I forced him to refridgerate it at the hostel telling him that since I would be sitting next to him on a bus with no bathroom, I wasn't willing to take the risk of him with a dodgy stomach for no less than 18 hours.  (By the half way part of the ride, Mark's ham was an interesting shade of violet and his cheese had melted into one runny ball.)

Since we had heard that the companies don't always honor your seat assignments, we arrived an hour early to make sure we at least were sitting together. 

When we arrived at the bus office, we were told that the bus did not, in fact, leave at 11 despite being printed clearly on the ticket, but that it left at 12 instead. 

With a bit of time to spare, we went to find some food and went back to the bus station.  We were told we could sit in the "waiting room," an empty room with a concrete floor.  As soon as we sat down, Mark put his hand in an unidentified sticky liquid... We were obviously off to a good start. 

At noon, when the bus was supposed to leave, they began to load the cargo onto the top of the bus.  I have no idea what was in the 4 feet by 3 feet plastic box/bags they were loading onto the top of the bus, all I do know is that there were tons of them and they were extremely heavy.  This took at least another hour.

As they were loading the bus, we were finally allowed on. We climbed aboard, found our seats, and as we sat down a cloud of brown dust surrounded us as it was forced.out of our seat covers by the weight of.our bodies.

The front of the bus advertised TV, DVD, and air conditioning.  Shockingly they didn't follow through on any of the three.  Though there was one TV at the front of the bus, the screen was missing.  In its place was a plant, and I'm pretty sure that if we had concentrated on watching it, we would have seen it grow during our bus ride.  Talk about entertainment.   
Bolivians are very good at creating their own entertainment though, and I'd especially like to thank the man three rows diagonally in front of me who brought a good, old fashioned, boom box from which he blasted all of his favs for the whole bus and that he insisted on controlling with a remote even though it was on his lap and he could rest his hands on it.  I can only assume that the rest of the bus loved listening to this man's top 24 hours worth of hits as much as the four of us did.  I'd also like to thank the woman who gave her two sons (that she was NOT sitting with) a box of 1,000 matches to play with.  Excellent parenting, A+.  A perfect gift for ten and twelve year old boys stuck in an enclosed location for 24 hours, and not worrisome at all for the others around you.

There was one more advertisement on the front of the bus: "Your adventure starts here." That part couldn't have been more true.

We spent another hour sitting on the bus.  I remember telling Mark that if we didn't leave by 2, I was getting off the bus and booking a flight. 

Luckily the bus pulled away with eight minutes to spare.  We were off.

We didn't make it very far.  Within the first few minutes Mark and I heard a knock on our window.  We looked to the right and saw a pair of dangling legs.  Mark opened the window and a man started to climb in.  We got up to move and let him in, but he told us not to worry and climbed right over us. Apparently the cargo on top of the bus got stuck on the electricity wires above us.  This happened no less than three times in the VERY slow hour it took us to get out of La Paz. 

We were the ONLY gringos on the bus.  The bus was packed.  Not only was every seat taken, but there were families of four crammed into two seats and children who didn't have seats at all, spending the entire journey laying in the aisle. 

The entire trip was less than 200 miles.  The roads are just so terrible, oand the bus broke down so frequently that it took FOREVER.  At one point we looked out the window as Mark pointed out to us "look girls, that bird is flying faster than us." He wasn't even joking.

In the end, the journey took 24 hours.  For the first two hours we were in good spirits, even joking at points.  "Well ladies, it could be worse.  At least we paid for first class.  Imagine what it would be like in second class," Mark said, referring to the facts that at least we had seats.  For the last 22 hours, we weren't exactly happy campers.

The road was a very narrow, one lane, unpaved road.   At points you couldn't see the edge of the road when looking out the window, just straight down the cliff.  At this point half the bus would stand up and go to look out the window.  Just what the bus needed, more weight leaning over the cliff. 

Though the road was one lane, the traffic was two ways and when you got to a point where you met oncoming traffic there was typically a standoff until the smaller vehicle backed up far enough for the larger vehicle to go around.  South American driving is a bit like playing chicken... On a narrow road with thousand foot cliffs.

The road was extremely windy and since you can't see oncoming traffic, drivers beep their horn to alert other drivers who may be coming around the bend.  Safety first we always joke about South American standards.

The bus was miserably hot at night.  It wreaked of urine and sweat.  You could open the window for fresh air and "natural air conditioning," we joked, but this also included clouds of dust being pummeled at your face every couple minutes.  When we finally went to sleep that night, Mark and I hung our glasses on the line for the window curtains.  When we woke up the next morning, the glass was opaque... caked in a layer of dust.

We stopped occasionally for bathroom breaks.  I don't even want to start to explain the "facilities" that were available... partly for your sake, but mainly because I'm not (and don't think I'll ever be) able to relive the horror.  Imagine the worst bathroom you've ever seen, then multiply it by 100.  Keep in mind that IF you were lucky, you could pay for toilet paper. 

The bus broke down no less than six times, the first being within an hour of when we left.  At other times, the bus just stopped for no reason.  At one point we were stuck for two hours while a construction crew paved AND waited for the road in front of us to dry.  Why would you ever pave just one side of the road so that traffic could continue when you can pave BOTH sides at once?  True geniuses here in Bolivia, folks. 

The worst part was never knowing.where we were.  Twenty hours in... Were we almost there or half way? We had no way of knowing. 

I guess, ultimately, we can consider ourselves lucky that the bus was only 24 hours.  The people who had come back to our hostel the day before said their ride was 36 hours. 
In the end, we came out with a good story, and miraculously, we all remained friends, bonded together by the same traumatic nightmare forever ingrained in our memories.  And in the end, isn't it all about the journey and not the destination?

Nonetheless, after checking into our hostel and dropping our bags, the first thing we did upon arriving in Rurrenabaque was book our FLIGHT back to La Paz after our Pampas tour. 

Photos
1: Loading the bottom of the bus
2: Us in the "waiting room" TWO afters after the bus was supposed to leave.  See how excited.we are already...
3: The decorative ceiling

The Black Hole that is Known as The Wild Rover, La Paz

From Isla del Sol, Sinead and I headed to La Paz.  We were both feeling a bit run down from traveling quickly and we were excited to get to La Paz knowing that we would be spending four straight nights in once place.  I was also excited to see my friend, Mark, who I had met a few weeks earlier in Huacachina and had been making plans to meet up with ever since. 

We checked into the Wild Rover, an Irish owned hostel known for wild parties and crazy antics. 

We were delighted to run into our friends Mona, Diarmuid, and (another) Mark who had been on our Machu Picchu trek, and were also spending the weekend at the Rover.

As we entered our room, the first thing the our new roommates told us was that there was a mouse in the room.  For those who haven't stayed in hostels before, I think there's a big misconception that they are filthy and gross, which isn't true at all.  Almost every hostel we've stayed in is clean and comfortable. 

While Sinead and I were both creeped out by the mouse comment, we didn't want to seem high maintenance, so we decided it was a better idea to go to reception and tell them that we forgot to ask to be in the same room as Mark, our friend we were meeting. 

"You're in luck," the receptionist told us. "Mark's already in that room!" Defeated, we went back to our room and hoped to avoid any run ins with the tiny creature.

The Wild Rover was having a Full Moon/UV party that night.  Clearly we chose the right hostel since Sinead and I love theme parties, and obviously we were excited. 

Though we weren't exactly sure what to wear to a Full Moon/UV party (and white isn't exactly my color,) the bar staff had promised UV paint.  When we got there, though, they were using straws to paint people's faces...so unprofessional.  Being the fancy dress experts we are, we clearly took the paint brushes from our most important backpacking possession... Our face paint kit and did real UV artwork on each other's faces. The rest of the bar and the staff also appreciated our brush and people began to get really into it.  

The night started out normal... We had a few lines and some dots of UV paint on our faces, but it ended with us totally covered.

When the night finally ended - literally - the sun was coming up as we headed to bed, we found the mouse the girls had been talking about.  Dead.  Curled up peacefully on Mark's bed.  Though the hostel offered to change his bed, in a classic Mark move, he convinced them for a change of sheets and a free tshirt instead. 

Our first full day La Paz was raining, so a few hours after we woke up, attempted to get over our hangovers and procrastinated by pretending to take naps, we stopped trying to avoid the inevitable and decided to start drinking White Russians and play cards at the bar around 3pm. 

There was another theme party that night- is this heaven? - Cowboys and Indians.  With our face paint, my hippy headbands, and a clever repurposing of the feathers from our Mardi Gras masks the week before, we improvised some pretty damn good costumes.  I even had mocassins and Sinead braided her hair into pigtails. 

The Wild Rover is like a black hole of drunkenness.  There are always people drinking in the bar - no matter the time of day.  If you're not in the bar by 6pm, the bar tenders come into your room with a bottle of liquor and offer you free shots.  Once you check in, you rarely leave during the daytime, but you almost always manage to see the first light of day. 

Though the Wild Rover is a bit like Hotel California, once you check in, you don't check out, there's a huge sense of comraderie among the guests.  Everyone knows everyone... Mainly since they spend all their time in the same place.  After a few days, you walk in the bar and know everyone.  It's like your local bar from home, and you walk in and make your rounds and say hello to everyone.

By our third night at the Rover, we were exhausted and Mark, Sinead and I, along with our Machu Picchu friends decided we needed to get out.  Even though it was a Saturday, we decided to go to dinner and a movie... Basically blasphemy in the Wild Rover culture. 

On Sunday, we booked our bus tickets to the Amazon, Rurrenabaque, a story I will tell when I am ready to relive the horror, and I went with a group of about 30 people to Cholitas wrestling, La Paz's version of the WWF, except with Bolivian women dressed in traditional garb and WAY more fake. 

It was here, as I was walking through a crowded street, that a man dropped his hat at my feet.  I was distracted as he aggressively fumbled around for it around my ankles and didn't realize his companion reach his hand into my pocket and steal my phone.  The whole thing probably took 15 seconds and I realized immediately what had happened, but it was too late.  They had my phone, which sucks, but thankfully that's all that they got, and phones are replaceable. 

To be honest, I feel like I've earned one more notch on the backpackers list.  I didn't expect to get out of this trip unscathed and if this is the worst thing that happens to me, I'll consider myself lucky.

Photos:
1: Dead baby llamas for good luck in the witches market
2: La Paz from above
3: The Machu Picchu crew: Diarmuid, me, Sinead, Mona and Mark at the UV party
4: Sinead, Mark and I at Cowboys and Indians
5: Mona, Sinead, Matt and I at Cowboys and Indians

Hiking Colca Canyon... Technically

I want to start this post with an apology to my mother and a disclaimer that desperate times call for desperate measures.

After about 2.5 hours of sleep, Sinead and I woke up at 2:30 on Tuesday morning to leave Arequipa for the Colca Canyon trek. 

Besides for our bus being late, par for the course in South America, everything started out grand.  When we got on board, we were given neck pillows and blankets so that we could go back to sleep for the next 3.5 hours until breakfast and a lookout point to spot Condors, the giant birds the canyon is famous for. 

Sinead and I had previously decided to save a bit of money and do the trek on our own without a guide.  We had heard from numerous people at the past two hostels we were at and some of Sinead's friends from back home that it was an easy hike to do on your own.  The hike was three hours down into the canyon, where you reached an oasis with a hostel to spend the night at hot springs and a two and a half hour hike back up the next day which started before sunrise in order to avoid the extreme heat. 

After breakfast, we got back in the van and were driven to town to start the trek.  We got a map (though that's a very loose term for what it actually was) from the information center in "town" - a very desolate and rural area - and headed on our way. 

Within the first ten minutes, we saw the sign that the woman at the information office had mentioned, but there was a fork in the road.  There were no words, only pictures, and we couldn't tell if the sign was telling us to go over the 3.5 foot rock wall and follow the trail or head to the right and follow another trail. 

Luckily, there was a local woman who assured us that we should go over the wall.  We continued on the path for a while and eventually ran into a dead end.  The path ended at a steep cliff.  We decided, obviously, that we had to turn around, and head to the other side of the ridge where there looked like there were multiple paths. 

We walked through corn fields, fields of ashes burned from down trees, through bushes, did our best to avoid cactii (though we both got pricked at least once,) over rock walls, climbed boulders and eventually made it to the other side.  Somehow, though, we couldn't get to a ledge to look down into the canyon.  There appeared to be hundreds of paths, yet every single one led to a dead end.

In retrospect, we probably should have never climbed that rock wall.  I'm pretty sure our two hour adventure was solely located on someone's private farm land.  During the time we had tried to find the correct path, we literally made it NOWHERE.

Eventually we decided to admit defeat.

I mean people climb mountains to see the view from the TOP right?!?

Surely there was really no reason to hike down INTO the canyon...we were already AT the top.  How could the views get any better?  We had seen the canyon, we had seen the condors.  That's all anyone ever REALLY needed to know anyways.

We decided no one would ever ask us whether we had hiked the WHOLE canyon, just IF we had hiked the canyon.  Technically, we HAD hiked the canyon, just not the right part.

At this point, we still had time to get  back to town and catch a taxi to Chavay, where the ONLY bus (we had been told) left for Puno at 1:30. 

We made it back to town and started asking the locals about a taxi.  It became very clear very quickly that there was NO WAY we were getting a taxi.  There were no taxis in this town the locals would tell us as they smirked or laughed.  There was a bus to Chavay coming at 2, they told us... a half an hour AFTER the bus we needed to take  left over an hour away. 

Our next genius idea was to try and convince the police officers we ran into to give us a lift back to Chavay.  In VERY broken Spanish, we tried to explain to them that we had attempted to hike the canyon and that I had fallen and hurt my ankle... I even limped as we walked up to them.  Sinead "claims" that at one point I changed the story and started rubbing my wrist instead of my ankle, but this accusation can neither be supported nor confirmed.  Either way, the police wouldn't budge, and we were back to square one.

We then decided to bribe one of the locals to give us a ride.  There were a total of two trucks in the main square.  We approached the first man with a car and asked if he'd take us back to Chavay if we were willing to pay him.  We had planned to start with 30 soles and go up to 50.  He told us he would do it for no less than 200.  Keep in mind that the average daily wage in Peru is $3 USD and this man was asking for about $85 for two hours of driving.  Also keep in mind that all he was doing instead was leaning against a wall and continiously spitting on the ground. 
Feeling defeated, we began to walk across the square to ask the information center for another option, though we were sure they were only going to reiterate what we already knew. 

As we were walking, I noticed a man walking behind us toward the only other car.  He approached us and offered us a ride.  He was driving a Movistar truck, a very large phone company in South America, and since it was a Tuesday afternoon, we figured he must be on duty. 

He told us that he was going to a town ten minutes away from Chavay and that he could drive us there.

Ignoring every single thing we'd ever heard NOT to do, we accepted his offer.  Later, we both said how we could hear our mother's voices in the back of our heads yelling at us and promised not to tell them for years - if ever. 

A million thoughts went through my head about all of the things that could go wrong, but I kept trying to tell myself to believe in the good in people.  If there were travelers in DC and I was going within ten minutes of that direction, I'd offer them a ride.  Additionally there was only one road to Chavay, so we knew we were going the right way. 

At one point he stopped to show us the oasis down below. Not believing 100% that everything would work out, as we got out of the car I left my door open and made sure to stand between the man and the car so that he couldn't bolt back in, steal our stuff, and drive away.  He didn't. He just wanted to show us a nice view.

The conversation was very limited.  The man, whose name we never learned, we shamefully realized later, spoke no English, and though Sinead is better than I am at Spanish, we had no hope.  The conversation lasted maybe two minutes of the hour plus ride. 

Exhausted from our 2:30 am wake up, our "hike," and a rough sleep on an overnight bus the night before that, we both struggled to stay awake.  Next to accepting a ride from a strange man in a foreign country, falling asleep while hitchhiking with a strange man is absolutely something you should never do. 

In the end, everything worked out perfectly.  Though he had told us that he would take us to a town ten minutes away from Chavay, he ended up dropping us directly in the town center, only a few minute walk from the hostel we had left our bags at.  Originally we had thought that he had heard us offering money to the other man and that he expected some sort of payment, though we never discussed the amount. 

When the ride was over, he got out of the car.  We went to offer him money, but instead he gave us hugs and kisses on the cheek and continuously wished us "buena suerte" (good luck,) probably wondering how we would fair for the rest of out journey.

Though we missed the 1:30 bus, we decided there HAD to be another way to Puno, picked up our bags, and headed to the bus station with high hopes. 

We figured out a way to get to Puno through two connecting local buses.

Though Peru typically has very nice buses, the buses we took to Puno were local buses as opposed to tourist buses and our "transfer" point was when the driver pulled over to the side of the road, told us to get out and assured us that another bus would be by to pick us up soon that would take us to Puno.  He was right, within a few minutes, two buses came by.  Neither stopped. 

The temperature had dropped significantly from where we had started our day, and Sinead wanted to change from her shorts into pants.  There was literally nowhere to go, and we joked that if she changed into her pants on the side of the road, we'd surely get a bus to stop.  Since pretty much anything goes in Peru (and all of South America,) she decided to go for it, and sure enough, as soon as she pulled her shorts down a bus pulled over to let us in... we were back on track and headed on our way to Puno.

In total, the ride ended up costing us much less than the 1:30 tourist bus would have and together we saved about $70 USD.  We arrived in Puno, exhausted, around 10pm, grabbed a pack of noodles for dinner, and went to bed for what would be our final sleep in Peru.  

Photos:
1: Sinead and I at Colca Canyon
2: The canyon
3: Me at Colca Canyon

Machu Picchu

I had heard from many travellers that Machu Picchu was one of the highlights of their trip, and have seen pictures of Machu Picchu in history books since I have been a child, but nothing could have prepared me for how truly breathtaking the experience would be.
There are many options to get to Machu Picchu from Cuzco.  After speaking to friends who had already been and others around the hostel, Sinead and I chose to do the "adventure trek." Luke and Leigh, our friends from London joined us and we set off on what I can only describe as four of the best days of my trip.

DAY 1
Nothing in my life can compare to what I did today.  We were awake at 5:30 and picked up at half 6 to begin our adventure trek to Machu Picchu.  We drove through the mountains for about 2.5 hours and saw the most beautiful scenery - jagged, rocky mountains covered in green trees.

We drove up through the mountain, winding through switchback after switchback.  The higher we got, the less of the view we could see... We were above the clouds.   When we eventually pulled over on the side of the road and the guide told us we had reached the destination where we would begin our bike ride, I thought he was kidding.  I knew we'd be mountain biking, but I didn't realize it would be on the SAME windy, narrow road we had just driven up with sharp bends, steep cliffs and TWO WAY traffic.

We got out of our van and began to put on our gear for the ride. This was no joke.  We had helmets, knee pads, biking gloves, wind proof coats and racing jackets with chest cages, back protection, shoulder pads and elbow guards.

It was FREEZING at the top.

I was pretty scared, and after hearing the stories of my past adventures (white water rafting in West Virginia, zip lining in Costa Rica, my infamous skydiving video,) Sinead, Luke, and Leigh had taken bets on what time I would start crying.  I kept telling myself that I would be okay if I took it slow and not push my limits. I didn't care if I was the last one in the group.

We started at an elevation of 4,316 meters, almost 14,200 feet, and rode about 30 miles down to 1,800 meters (5,400 feet.)  It was AMAZING.

In the beginning, I took my time and went a bit slower.  For about the first 20 minutes my gears didn´t work, but after our first stop, our guide was able to fix them for me.  After that, I began to feel more comfortable and continued to go faster and faster.  By the end of the ride, I was one of the group leaders.

The views were some of the most beautiful I´ve ever seen - two giant mountains on either side of us and a valley with streaming rivers below.

There wasn´t much time to stop and take pictures - and the pictures don´t do it any justice anyways - but I kept trying to remind myself to look around as much as possible... to live in the moment, and take it all in.  The experience was exhilarating and freeing. 

Though we were with a group, there were often times that I couldn´t see anyone else on the road - it was all mine.  As much fun as it was to go fast and speed down the mountain, I was also conflicted because I knew this was something that I would likely never get to see or do again.

After biking we had lunch and headed to the next part of our adventure, white water rafting.  Again, the views were spectacular, but the rafting itself was average.  ¨White¨ water rafting was a generous term, since the river was actually very, very brown from the sediment run off of the mountains.  It reminded me of the chocolate river in ¨Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.¨ 

That night we slept in a local house in the mountains.  A van picked us up from the river, and when it dropped us off on the side of a road with a mountain on one side and a cliff on another and told us we had arrived, I once again thought it was a joke. 

¨Do you see that house with the light on way up there?¨ The guide asked as he pointed up the mountain.  ¨That´s where we´re going.¨

It was a 45 minute walk uphill.  When we started it was dusk, and by the time we finished, it was completely dark.  We were walking on the edges of thin paths on the in the dark.  Part of me was happy we couldn´t see it, and part of me was terrified I´d take a wrong step. 

We arrived at our destination, a local family´s home in the mountains 4,200 feet high.  ¨Welcome to the zoo,¨ the other members of our group who had not gone rafting and showed up earlier said.  There were chickens, dogs, ducks, and a ferret running around. 

Luke, Leigh, Sinead and I stayed in a four person room in the second floor of the house.  In order to get to our room, we walked up a small hill and then across 25 feet of wood planks laid next to each other to make a path about two feet wide.  The wood boards were wobbly and I felt like I was walking a pirate's plank every time I walked to the room. 

Between cycling, hiking, and rafting I´m pretty sure we worked every muscle in our body that day and we were all exhausted.  After dinner we all headed to bed.

DAY 2
We began our trek around nine this morning, and I continue to be completley amazed by the scenery.  The mountains are jagged and there is a deep valley below.  Today´s hiking was very easy.  Except for a 30 minute uphill, the majority of the hiking was relatively flat.  The hardest part was walking along the narrow paths on the cliffs.

If I thought the cliffs at the Lost City were bad, these were a million times worse.  The cliffs drop off thousands of feet and are no more than two feet wide.  Since I´ve gotten to South America, though, my fear of heights has been MUCH better...  I haven´t even cried yet on this trek (MUCH to everyone´s disappointment.)  We walked about eight miles, and took many unnecessary breaks.  We hiked a small part of the classic Inca Trail and ended the day at hot springs. 

At our super dodgy hostel that night, we all bought beers and sat on the sidewalk like true South Americans.  We had dinner at a restaurant across the street, and got to know our group better.  We played word association games, which can be hysterical with groups of people from eight different countries, many of whose first language is not English.  We went to a dance club that night that was filled with other gringos on similar treks to Machu Picchu. 

DAY 3
Our first activity today was ziplining and the 25 minute walk uphill was rough since most of us were hung over and dehydrated from our night of clubbing in one of Peru's most unexpected locations... Santa Teresa.  Once we started the ziplining, however, our adrenaline kicked in and we had a blast. 

Unlike my last ziplining excursion, I didn't spend the entire time crying.  After weeks of continuosly facing what was once a crippling fear of heights, I've become much more brave.  On our fourth zipline, however, we were allowed to go upside down.  It was terrifying, but I did it.  My mantra for this trip is that I didn't come here to do anything half way. 

Though I was brave enough to do it, getting myself into the position to actually go upside down was a comedy show in itself.  It took me about five times longer than anyone else to get into position. 
My entire body became stiff and rigid.  The guide hooked me up and would try, unsuccessfully, to put me upside down.  He'd push me upside and try to get my legs to curve into the upside down position.  "Relax," he'd tell me until eventually I'd flip back right side up.  "I can't do it!" I'd say, only to be immediately followed by "but I HAVE to do it."

Finally in the upside down position, the guide pushed me out.  I screamed at the top of my lungs, looking straight down at the forest valley 3,000 feet below me.  Eventually I calmed myself down to a point where I was just screaming to myself "holy shit, holy shit," and finally, I completely lost my breath, trying my hardest to concentrate on taking a deep breath.  I even managed to turn myself around 180 degrees to face the landing pad and pull myself up as instructed. 

I finally shed a tear (purely out of sheer joy/relief) once I reached the other side, and though Luke and Leigh weren't there to see it, Sinead managed to snap a picture.

We spent the afternoon on a three hour walk along the train tracks to a town called Aguas Calientes which sits at the base of Machu Picchu.

Once in town, we bought our lunch and snacks for the following day, had a group dinner and went to sleep early in preparation for our 4:15am wake up. 

Today was Thanksgiving in America.  It wasn't as weird or as hard to be away from home as I thought it would be.  I think most of this is due to the fact that it didn't feel at all like Thanksgiving (there weren't even any other Americans in our group) and since we were busy all day I didn't think about it much.  It didn't hurt, either, that I was surrounded by some of the most beautiful scenery I've ever seen in my life.

DAY 4
Sitting on top of Machu Picchu staring at the ancient city and Waynu Picchu.  Today was one of the most physically challenging days of my life.

We woke up at 4:15 to leave the hostel by 4:30.  We walked in the dark twenty minutes along the road to the bridge to Machu Picchu and then climbed the 1707 steps to the city.  Our guide told us to bring an extra tshirt, because by the time we climbed the stairs to the city we'd be soaked in sweat.  He was right.  The steps were actually easier than I had expected, though still challenging. 

Since it was still early, most of the view was masked by fog when we entered the city.  We were above many of the clouds and a bit worried that we wouldn't have a good day, but as the day went on, the clouds cleared and we had a perfect day.

We had a two hour tour with our guide, who showed us some of the more important parts of the city, like where the king lived, sacred stones, the school, and more.  Afterward, we were free to wander the city on our own.

After visiting the city, there are two more options that you can pay extra to experience: hiking Machu Picchu Mountain and hiking Waynu Picchu mountain.  Waynu Picchu, while not as well known by name, is the mountain in all of the classic shots of Machu Picchu.  Machu Picchu Mountain is another 600 meters (1800 feet) above the city and is higher than Waynu Picchu by 300 meters. 

We decided to climb Machu Picchu Mountain.  Though Waynu Picchu has additional ruins, we decided the view would be better from Machu Picchu Mountain.

Climbing Machu Picchu Mountain was a BITCH.  We had already climbed the 1,707 stairs to the city, woken up at 4am, and walked around all morning, but at 10am, we began the climb. 

Almost every step of the journey was stairs, some placed so close together your entire foot wouldn't fit on a single stair, some far apart so that it took a few strides to get to the next. 

Some sets were extremely narrow and steep with cliffs that were thousands of feet high dropping that dropped off inches away.  These stairs made me extremely nervous about coming back down.  For these sets, I'd stand as close to the rock wall as possible and take grip of trees, branches, parts of rocks that jutted out...anything that would give me more stability. 

We were exhausted and took breaks often.  We stopped every person who was on their way down to ask them how much longer we had until we reached the top.  Their answered always varied, but each and every one of them assured us that the reward was worth it.

When we reached the top, there was a giant cabana and a panoramic view of the amazing mountains, and the city of Machu Picchu and Waynu Picchu Mountain hundreds of meters below. 

We ate lunch at the top...a picnic lunch of bruised avocados, battered tomatoes and squished rolls that had barely survived our climbs. 

The view was breathtakingly stunning.  I kept reminding myself to absorb every second and take it all in, knowing it was a view I may never see again in my life. 

It's amazing to see something in real life that you've seen pictures and videos of your entire life.   Though I'm not a history buff, the architecture of the city and the way it has managed to stay intact combined with the amazing scenery had me mesmorized.  Even though I had seen countless pictures of the city, nothing could prepare me for the amazingly powerful sense of joy I would get from seeing it with my own eyes. 

From the top of Machu Picchu Mountain, all you could see was mountains (and a speck of the tiny town of Aguas Calientes in the distance.) The scenery is the most amazing I've ever seen in my life and I already want to go back.  I want to take my parents there, and my brothers, and everyone else I know.  I want everyone to be able to see and experience the wonder that is Machu Picchu.

Photos:
1: View on the ride up the mountain
2: Luke, Leigh, Sinead and I preparing for our bike ride
3: The view from mountain biking
4: Our (second floor) accommodation at the local family's house in the mountains
5: Me expertly getting into the upside down position for ziplining
6: Above the trees
7: Sinead and I at Machu Picchu
8: The stairs to Machu Picchu Mountain
9: 600 meters above the city of Machu Picchu
10: A view of Machu Picchu from the side of the mountain

 

 

 

 

 

 

Cuzco

Cuzco is an amazing city that I absolutely fell in love with.  What was once the capital of the Inca empire is still a beautiful and thriving city.  Though the city definitely has a tourist feel, it has managed to keep some of the traditional elements.  Walking around Cuzco there are still locals dressed in traditional garb (some even who are not trying to con you into taking pictures or sell you things) and the architecture has been preserved magnificently. 

If I had more time on my trip, I would have camped out in Cuzco much longer, a month perhaps, and taken Spanish courses. 

My time in Cuzco was split in two parts - the three days I spent there before the Jungle Trek to Machu Picchu and the two days I spent there after. 

I arrived in Cuzco at 5:30 am on  Saturday after a 22 hour bus ride.   The journey was split into two parts, Ayacucho to Andahuaylas and Andahuaylas to Cuzco.  Though most buses here are lovely, the first half of my trip was far off what is known as the "Gringo Trail," or the touristy backpacking circuit, and the bus was mostly locals.

I boarded a 12 hour bus with no food or bathroom in front of a man who brought a live chicken in a cardboard box and two gerbils in a cage.  I told myself that I was going to stay awake for the first 3 hours before taking sleeping medication to hopefully sleep through the middle to second half of the trip.

The road from Ayacucho to Andahuaylas was rough and bumpy, however, the bus was not up to date, and the local man next to me insisted on singing outloud.  I lasted a full 45 minutes before taking a sleeping pill.  

The second bus was much more enjoyable, but needless to say, after 22 hours on buses, I was more than grateful when my hostel let me check in at 5:30am and go straight to bed instead of the enforcing an 11:30am check in.

I had plans to meet my friend Sinead, an Irish girl I had met on my first week of my trip on the trek to La Ciudad Perdida in Colombia.  When she checked in, we walked down the street, had a fixed price, two course lunch for 4 soles (or about $1.67,) and set off to explore the city. 

We walked around the plaza and through the markets.  While exploring though, we had one specific goal in mind. We were staying at the Loki Hostel in Cuzco, known as one of the top ten party hostels in the world.  The Lokis are also known for their theme parties, and that Saturday the theme was Disney characters. 

Sinead and I discovered very early on that we share a mutual love of dressing up and after a few Google searches decided that the 101 Dalmations would be a costume that we could make easily, would fit our minimal backpacking budgets and we wouldn't need to carry around after. Our plan was to tape black and white spots that we would cut from construction paper onto our black and white clothing, paint spots on our faces and use construction paper and ribbon to make collars. 

As much as I love Cuzco, I will tell you that it is nearly impossible to find face paint in that city (especially with a VERY limited vocabulary.)  We must have gone into over 20 stores and spent multiple hours looking for face paint.  Finally, we found all of our necessities at a copy shop.  While we couldn't exactly find face paint,  we did find a water based paint that we hoped would both do the job and wash off in time for our Machu Picchu trek a few days later. 

For dinner that evening we tried - for the first time - to find a place called Dolce Vita, a place my new friend Mark who I had met while sandboarding in Huacachina said was a MUST.  Dolce Vita served something called Causa, a pie like dish made from layers of avocado, mashed potatoes and chicken.  A friend of Sinead's that she had met in Taganga, Colombia, Leigh also happened to be staying at the hostel and came with us for dinner.

We found Dolce Vita, but it was an ice cream shop, apparently there are 3 in Cuzco, and we ended up at the wrong one.  Instead we went to Jack's, another place that had been highly recommended, a great burger and milkshake shop that reminded me of a place that could be at home. 

The Loki is uphill and the 120+ stairs back are a bitch.  At an elevation of 3300 meters (9,900 feet,) you can definitely feel the altitude in Cuzco.  Once backt Sinead and I set about making our costumes while having our own happy hour in the room.  (Two things not to do while trying to adjust to altitude... Eat meat and drink alcohol.  Cheeseburgers at Jack's and rum and cokes all evening... Check and check.)

When we got to the bar downstairs, we were basically the only ones dressed up, except for one girl dressed as a mermaid and the staff, but another thing Sinead and I have in common is that we don't get embarrassed.  We further proved this to each other and everyone else when we went to the main Gringo bar in the square, Mama Africa, STILL dressed in our costumes.  We did manage to get free drinks from the bartenders for wearing our costumes, though,so it was well worth it. 

On Monday, Leigh, Sinead, and I along with Luke, (Leigh's travel partner who Sinead had also met in Colombia and our 4th muskateer for the week) decided to visit the four ruins in Cuzco.  The main remain is called Saqsaywaman (dubbed sexy woman as a moniker the gringos will remember).  The remains were okay, but since we weren't with a guide we weren't ever too sure what we were looking at.  The views of Cuzco from above, however, were stunning. 

After the ruins we went on a free walking tour of the city with our hostel.  We covered a lot of ground and learned a bit about the city.  Afterward we had another unsuccessful attempt to find Dolce Vita and went back to the market to eat lunch. 

We had visited the market during the walking tour and it was truly amazing.  We tried a fruit called Grenadina, which is about the size of your fist and has slimy little seeds inside (similar to ppmegranate.)  I absolutely love it. 

The meat section of the market in particular was amusing/repulsive.  They has everything from guinnea pig (cui,) a South American delicacy, to massive bull's testicles, to entire bone facial structures of cows, alpacas, etc. The women cutting the raw meat would taste bits of of while they were cutting it.

It was a bit difficult to eat there after seeing everything, but it was one of the best meals I had had (though basic and classic Peruvian.)  For $1.25 we had rice, tomato, cucumber, onion, egg, avocados and french fries.  That evening we had our information session for our Jungle Trek to Machu Picchu, packed, and went to sleep early for our early wake up the next morning.

Five days later, we got back from to Cuzco at 1:30 in the morning.  After a 4am wake up and some strenuous uphill climbing at Machu Picchu, we were exhausted and went straight to sleep.  When we woke up the next day we were happily surprised that two of our friends from our Lost City trek and another boy I had met in Colombia were all staying at the Loki for the weekend as well.

We treated ourselves that afternoon and had a Machu Picchu reunion lunch at a nice restaurant. After lunch we all split ways, and while walking around town we FINALLY found Dolce Vita. We had literally looked every single day since we'd been in Cuzco and decided we'd go for dinner that night.  In what could only be the comical ending in a series of errors, when the six of us went for dinner that night, the restaurant only had two pieces of the famous causa we had been hunting left.  We all shared the two small pieces and ended up getting a proper dinner at another restaurant. 

Again, that evening there was another theme party at the Loki, but this time we were well prepared.  We found a street with multiple costume shops and bought masks.  Our masks, combined with the supplies we had saved from the previous week, were more than enough to rock the Carnival theme.  We partied at the hostel for a while, and went out again to town for some late night dancing.  Clearly still in our costumes, the bar tender recognized us from the week before and showed us a picture he had on his phone of us dressed as the dalmations from the week before. 

After a very lazy Sunday, Sinead and I headed out on an overnight bus to Arequipa.  We said goodbye to Leigh and Luke, and as always, they were quick.  I'm sentimental though, and it's always difficult to leave new friends, not knowing if you'll ever see them again.  For the past week, the four of us had done everything together - ate all of our meals, slept in the same rooms, shared hundreds of laughs and been to places and seen things that many people will never get to experience in their lifetimes. 

Though a week may seem short in comparison, while backpacking, traveling with someone for a week feels like a lifetime.  Luckily, though, the four of us have already made plans and booked a hostel together to spend New Years in Buenos Aires. 

Pictures:
- Cuzco from our hostel balcony
- Sinead and I as 101 Dalmations and Luke as Mogli from the Jungle Book
- Grenadina
- Michael and I dressed for the Carnival party
- Luke, Leigh, Sinead and I above Cuzco on our ruins tour