Part 4: Getting Way Too High in Bolivia

My expectations and thoughts about the altitude in Bolivia were seriously represented an enormous lack of oversight and equivocations. For example, "Quito is in the Andes, Quito is high up, I've been in Quito and been okay, therefore I will be just fine in Bolivia." Another example, "I'm in great physical shape, I'll be fine in Bolivia, no problem." The truth is, I really had no idea what altitude was before visiting Bolivia, the country famous for the world's highest everything. I made the half-joke to Daniela that, while we were in Bolivia, everything that we were seeing was the world's highest everything. The list goes something similar to as follows: world's highest navigable lake, world's highest city, highest mine, highest salt flat, highest coke machine, highest sandwich, highest bus and bus station, highest Simpsons watching on TV, highest shower, etc. etc. The point is, no matter how great of shape you're in, little can prepare you for roaming around a country that is, on average, about 2.5 miles up in most places.

Bolivia is, in many aspects, a beautiful country, full of wonderful people, but it is also a very sad and depressing country, full of debilitating poverty, crumbling infrastructure, and very bad food. During our entire trip, few people have been as nice to us as the Bolivians, but the country itself, one of the poorest in South America, has suffered from years of economic setbacks, exploitation, dictatorships, and so on. One big factor in Bolivia's economic woes is the fact that it is landlocked; other than through Brazil or Chile, they have no port access to either the Atlantic nor Pacific. Bolivia is rich in minerals, mainly tin, but tin really isn't that valuable nowadays, is it? The saddest thing I've seen in these travels yet were the entrances to the mines of Potosí, the once silver mine that fomented the entire Spanish economy for years until the withdrew every single drop of silver from it. Nowadays, laborers, some children, work the horrible condition of these mines, excavating tin, and often die rather quickly, from silicosis (most die around the age of 40). Traveling through Bolivia was, at least for us, exciting and awing, but it was also a heart-breaking experience.

The world's highest landscapes we witnessed were breathtaking. Our first stop was Lake Titicaca; aforementioned, one of the highest navigable bodies of water. Our hotel, owned and ran by a German fellow, was very nice and inviting, plus it had an amazing view of the lake.

The small town of Copacabana itself didn't have much to offer in the way of tourism. The village is overwhelmed by eateries with persistent waiters trying to get you to eat their variety of "international fare," which is basically really bad pizza. A little away from the shoreline and the tourist hot-spots, we came across one of the most interesting chapels I have seen in my life. It's called the Chapel of Candles, you can see why. Dozens of locals from Copacabana come here to light their handfuls of candles in prayer to their family members and loved ones. It was a very calming place to be; no one said a word, they just hovered around the emanating glow and warmth of hundreds of candles, sending up soot to the subjects of their prayers. Other devout candle dedicators found it more adequate to leave a tribute, not in the form of a pile of wax from a used up candle, but by wax graffiti on the walls of the chapel. This is certainly one of the more inventive forms of graffiti I've seen, and it sure beats the ugliness of that most "spray-paint Picassos" leave in public places. 

From Copacabana, we were able to make a day excursion to Isla del Sol, "Island of the Sun," which is said to be the Island where the Inca, the sun and the moon were created/born. "Island of the Sun," could not have been and more ironic name for the circumstances in which we visited the site, it was cold and rainy during the entire experience, and we were soaked to the bone. Needless to say, Dani was less than thrilled and took few pictures. As a result, you'll have to forgive the quality of the following images, as I took them myself. 

This is supposedly the first ever Inca site. 

This is the "creation rock," which they said has a lot of power and positive energy; I just felt a cold wet rock. 

After we passed a couple of days in Copacabana, being thoroughly soaked on Isla del Sol, gagged by the fumes of the slowest ferry/motor boat I've ever been on and witnessing the famous "floating islands," which turned out just to be docks with grass spread out over their surface, we were off to La Paz, but no before me experiencing a minor attack of altitude sickness the night before. I guess I overdid it a little during the Isla del Sol excursion, because that night I had the rather scary experience of feeling on the verge of a blackout and being entirely unable to breath properly or take in the sufficient amount of oxygen my body needed. From the stories others told me of their encounters with altitude sickness, my situation was nothing. Nonetheless, I felt thoroughly terrified at the idea that the best solution for my ailments was to go to a lower altitude when I was surrounded by the entirety of the Bolivian Andes and the worlds highest everything! 

The next day, after a night of sleeplessness, a big dose of sugar, coca leaves and tea, pills for altitude and taking in the aromatic effects of a strange herb that I don't recall the name of, we were busing off to La Paz (only slightly worse for the wear). We passed a few days in La Paz, mainly to recover from the altitude and relax a bit. La Paz has to be one of the saddest cities I've seen; you can tell that it was once a very beautiful place, but, at present, it has a dirty gloom about it. I was walked through the "market" area, the petrified lama and alpaca corpses and fetuses certainly didn't help me feel any better about the ambiance of La Paz. Fortunately, our hotel was very nice and rather inexpensive, so we spent most of the time in our room, admiring the mural on the wall. 

From La Paz, we headed south, to the real reason we were in Bolivia in the first place, the Uyuni Salt Flats. Yet again, I´m talking about a site that is so much better described through images. Can you imagine an endless desert covered with table salt and then filled with about two inches of water? Don't worry, in case your imagination is not that great (or perhaps my descriptive language leaves a bit to be desired), here are some amazing photos of this incredible place.

Train graveyard. May have just as well been our train to Argentina, as we had received the really bad news that there were no trains running to the south due to landslides washing the tracks out.  

The classic and oh so necessary airborne shot!

Structures made of salt blocks.

The mirror. Which is the ground and which is the sky?

The day before heading out to the natural miracle that is the salt flat, we had the depressive cloud of no train and the idea of the being trapped in Bolivia, but, once we rolled onto these landscapes in a Toyota Landcruiser, we forgot all else. This is about as close to heaven as you can feel while still standing on the ground; at some moment you forget that your feet are firmly planted and feel almost as if your stuck in the sky.

Once we returned to reality, it started raining again, and we were headed back to the miserable little town that borders the salt flats, Uyuni. The town of Uyuni is not much to speak of at all; all I really have to say about it is the world's worst pizza or pesto pasta made with Ramen (that's all the restaurants seemed to offer, the desolation of the wild west, and no train to Argentina.

Since there is not a paved highway to Argentina, direct from Uyuni, and we really didn't want to have the harrowing experience of weaving across the Andes, on the edge of cliffs and over flooded out bridges on mud roads, we opted to travel up to Potosí and back down, via the newly paved/created highway (brought to you by Evo Morales and his government). While the was a much safer option, it also meant that we spent eight hours in Potosí, an extremely high city at 4,000 meters, trying to catch our breath and not move much. Fortunately, Potosí has a new, and rather comfortable, bus terminal (all indoors), which made the wait much better.

Once we boarded the bus, we were off on an eight hour ride to the Argentine border. The bus ride, as we descended from 4,000 to 2,000 meters at the border, was yet another freezing mountain experience. The ride was topped off with a two hour wait at the end, colder still, as we slept off the last few hours of the morning stopped at the border, waiting for Argentina to open. We really didn't spend much time in Bolivia, but there were times when it felt like we would never get out. Needless to say, it was more than relieving to cross the border.

Traveler that walks on Argentine ground, welcome.

Part 3, Inca Inspiration: Cuzco, Machu Picchu and Border Crossing into Bolivia

The flight into Cuzco was very pleasant; LAN Airlines has yet to fail me! Lima has one of the best airports I've visited; we flew out on time, got our little LAN Christmas snack box, which was great, and landed safely between the mountains in Cuzco. Daniela was only slightly worse for wear (she hates flying). In terms of first impressions, Cuzco and surrounding areas (Machu Picchu) are beautiful, but it is awash with predatory tourist agencies and agents. The harassment began when we got off the plane in Cuzco, and practically didn't end until we boarded a bus out of Peru. People who live off of tourism must hate us; we rarely buy anything. From Cuzco to Machu Picchu, we've been offered every type of clothing article made out of llama/alpaca you can imagine and numerous services from Inca Trail hikes, to bike tours to massages. We literally bought nothing, payed only for the train to Machu Picchu, hostels and tickets to get in to the Ruins and self-guided through the entire experience. When you're on a budget, you're on a budget!

Cuzco (also spelled, "Cusco") was the capital of the Incan Empire, before the Spanish came an screwed everything up. It really is a breathtaking and amazing place, with a very unique mix of Spanish colonial constructions that conserve, at their base, the remains of the masterful handiwork of the Incas. This combination of constructions is one that I have yet to observe in any other part of Latin America. In most sites and cities, the Spanish destroyed all of the Inca structures and used the materials to build their cathedrals, plazas and government buildings (as is the case in Quito, Ecuador, for example). Our experiences walking down the incredibly narrow cobblestone streets of Cuzco, constantly reminded me of a line from Motorcycle Diaries, "On this side is a wall of the Incas, and, on the other, you can observe a wall of the Incapaces (incapable)." I think we visited the city right at the perfect time, because the city, as is the case with the rest of the world, seems to be growing at a unsustainable pace and is quickly filling up with a population it can't support. It was unbelievable to witness cars buzzing up and down the the steep narrow streets that were built for horse and foot traffic (especially around the corners). 

Our breath was taken away multiple times, as we crawled our sorry selves up and down hills such as this. On the first day, we stayed in a hostel that was mostly on a plane, near the city center. The day after, we had the "bright" idea to stay at a place that was way up at the top, in the neighborhood known as "San Blas." Many people look ast Cuzco as a base camp to head off on a Machu Picchu adventure, and that it is, but the city itself has so much charm, that it's worth sticking around a few days, just to be continually amazed. The main plaza, also known as the Plaza de Armas, is not a let down. From the fountain of the Plaza de Armas, with an impressive statue dedicated to one of the original Inca kings, we observed, not one, but two, staggering cathedrals. Another tourist trap is the boleto turistico (a tourist ticket) that you must buy if you want to see inside these cathedrals, along with other Inca ruin site (much smaller and less significant than Machu Picchu) in and around Cuzco. As you might imagine, we did not buy the tourist ticket. We got the goody out of Cuzco from the outside of these amazing structures and by sneaking into at least one cathedral during mass service. 

We decided to not cheap out 100% of the way, and we did visit the highly reccomended, "Qorikancha." This site was the most important temple of the Incan empire, but, when the Spanish found it, they destroyed the majority of it and built a cathedral and convent of Saint Domingo on top, preserving the retaining Inca walls. The floors and walls of the place were once covered with gold tablets and the courtyard that surrounded the temple held solid gold statues. As you can imagine, those are long gone (melted down and sold by the Spanish conquistadores). The funny thing about this site is that the remaining Inca foundation has not been affected at all by numerous earthquakes. The only structures suffering damage were those of the Incapable. To the right, can you guess which wall is which? 

I shouldn't bag on the Spanish so much, they did build some pretty amazing and beautiful structures. I'm simply irritated and annoyed at the fact that they decided to sack and destroy such perfect structures as those the Incas had created. As you're looking at the photos, recall that all of that was done by hand, with very simple tools and none of the conveniences of modern construction technology. We're talking about simple blood sweat and tears. 

The Spanish colonial constructions are also quite aesthetically pleasing. Check out some of the following constructions Cuzco has to offer:

The Plaza de Armas

Okay, so it's an "Irish Pub" in Cuzco, but it's the only place to get a Guinness within thousands of miles.

This is one of the Hostels we stayed at, converted from a colonial mansion.

After drinking in the wonders of Inca-Colonial Cuzco, we decided it was time for our pilgrimage to the last refuge of the Incas, Machu Picchu. Apparently very little is known about Machu Picchu; I have a feeling that much of what is said, known or told is made up. What does seem clear, is that it was a very well-hidden place, which might suggest that the Incas used it as an ultimate refuge, fleeing from the Spanish invaders. What is not even a bit clear is what happened to the Incas that were living at Machu Picchu, why they left and where they went. 

Even with modern conveniences, it still takes quite an effort to make it downriver from Cuzco, through the Sacred Valley and up the mountainside to the hidden city of Machu. After paying for a rather expensive 3-hour train ride, we were off to Aguas Calientes (Machu Picchu Pueblo), which is located in the valley, next to the river, near the base of Machu Picchu. The small town as it is today, was essentially established straight out of the tourism industry. Before the discovery of Machu Picchu and the opening of the ruins as a national park, it was a farm settlement, later a railway workers camp (making the rail access to the ruins) and it is now a tourist trap. Never in my life have I been harassed by salesmen and women as I have in this place. As soon as you get off the train, there are ladies offering you sunblock and insect repellent, you are forced to walk through a souvenir market (it's the only way out) and the town itself is full of tour agencies, hotels and waiters and waitresses trying to get you to eat at their restaurant (the menus are almost identical in every restaurant, as well as the prices). We stomached through our stay in Aguas Calientes, as well as the ridiculously overpriced meal we had that night; the prize, Machu Picchu, awaited us the next day. We stayed at a decent, if basic, hostel and thought that our only roommate would be a very nice girl from the Netherlands that checked in later on. The girl from Holland had the same idea as us, to get up at 4am to beat the crowds up to the ruins and see the sunset; we all went to bed at an early hour. Unfortunately, our luck ran out when some late arrivals, a really loud idiot from England and a girl that was travelling with him. I call the English guy and idiot because, as the rest of us were sleeping, he made no efforts to be quiet, spoke in a loud and incredibly irritating Brit accent (especially annoying for 11pm) and woke everyone up. 

When my alarm went of at 4, I let it play on out at high volume. I was sure to make as much noise as possible. I know payback isn't the answer, but it made me feel better. We ate a small complimentary breakfast and walked down to the bus departure site with our new found friend from the Netherlands. Daniela and I got a kick out of how this girl got all made up before heading out of the hostel in the morning; I guess you gotta look good for your Machu Picchu photo! We parted ways once we got to the top; she had a tour and we decided to self-guide. The decision to self-guide was one of the best we've made during this trip. We later heard horror stories of really awful guides who drag the tour out for hours and have no clue what they're talking about. Our experience at Machu Picchu is hard to describe, it was, quite literally, fascinating. If you don't believe me, just take a look at this amazing view from the top:

Look how happy we were, that's even after getting up at 4am and the "English moron incident!"

We wondered in and out of this incredibly intact and most complete Inca city during 6 hours and were not let down. Even after our terrible decision to carry up and walk around with our heavy backpacks (full of more clothing than was really necessary), we found it hard to complain much. My words could describe this amazing citadel, but I think I will let Dani's photos speak for me. 

Have you noticed the triangular shape of the doors and windows, perfect earthquake resistance! 

These ingenious terraces were built by the Incas for agriculture (they maintained gardens there). 

Being in Machu Picchu, calmed us down. First off, we had to physically calm down after climbing up and down the tremendous Inca steps, second, we stopped and sat on the agricultural terraces to observe, contemplate and eat our contraband (food that we sneaked in; you're not supposed to have food in the site, since they think people will toss the trash wherever). Once again in my life, I felt really small sitting there looking at this amazing and unbelievable Inca creation. 

Dani and I made the unwise decision to trek back down to Aguas Calientes, all the way from way up at the ruins. The downhill trek was hard on the knees and calves, but we made a k-9 friend on the way down. Perroso, as we donned him, quickly became a loyal and faithful amigo, after we fed him some of our leftovers. We eventually made it to the town, much worse for the wear, after it started raining 3/4 of the way down. We rested our weary boned at the train station, waiting to catch our ride back into Cuzco. The train is almost unbearably slow, it goes about 20mph, but we were entertained by a fashion show and a dancing spider clown, brought to you by Perurail! I actually hope that the rail company works on its services, now that it has some competition (Inca Rail), because, though the train was very nice and comfy, the service was hardly worth the price of the ticket. The "meal" they served us was laughable and I would take my LAN Airlines on-board service over it any day. 

Our last couple of days in Cuzco and the Sacred Valley were a real treat on a personal level. Daniela and I got to meet up with my Yachana volunteer family, Stephanie, Ryan and Amanda, the people I shared a year of my life with, volunteer teaching in the Ecuadorian Amazon. Ryan and Amanda are working together in Calca, in the Sacred Valley, on a project which has as its goal to establish a world-class bee sanctuary. Stephanie is currently living in Vilcabamba, Ecuador, but had been traveling in the Cuzco area of Peru (she traveled down with Ryan). We spent less than a day together, but it was great for us to be all together again. I really do consider these people family, for some reason we have an incredible connection, despite the fact that we are all so very different. The short time that we spent together reminded me of how different each one of us is from the other (we all have our mind on different goals and plans), but it also reassured me that we will always be in touch, will meet again and can count on one another if need be. 

The same night, after meeting with the old gang, Dani and I were at the bus terminal in Cuzco, waiting for our bus departure to Copacabana, Bolivia. I can best describe our bus ride to Copacabana as half meeting expectations. It was great until 4am, from then on, it was sketchy. We were to make a transfer in Puno, Peru, at 7am. After 3 hours of waiting in one of the dirtiest, sketchiest and coldest bus stations I've had the displeasure to visit, we were informed that it had been necessary to "transfer" us to a different bus company. The bus ride from Puno, Peru to Copacabana, Boliva was with a Bolvian bus company, Tours Titicaca, with an old smelly bus that was freezing. When I thought about it later, I realized that Tour Peru likely doesn't have the proper license to operate in Boliva, thus the sketchy and unmentioned switcheroo. The border crossing went surprisingly smooth; I suppose things tend to go fairly smooth when you hand over $135 big ones for an entry visa (reciprocity fee charged to U.S. citizens since we charge Bolivians the same). Shortly thereafter, we were back on the bus and not far from our final destination, Copacabana, on the shore of Lake Titicaca. The view from out hotel made the hassle all worth it. 

Tumbes to Lima: The Wasteland of Perú (Part 2 of the trip)

I left off last at the border crossing between Ecuador and Perú, entering the town of Tumbes and making my earliest observations. Currently, we are in Copacabana, Bolivia, on the coast of Lake Titicaca. In other words, I have got a lot of catching up to do. Since Tumbes, we traveled all the way down the coast of Perú, through mostly desert (wasteland), arrived to Lima, the capital city, stayed there for a couple of days and then caught a flight over a few of the Andes, into Cuzco.

Walking into Bolvia (Peru-Boliva Border)

You know how my earliest observations of Perú were not very optimistic sounding, especially in terms of my feelings toward the people? I should rather say, I wasn't optimistic about the feelings of the Peruvians towards me; I didn't enter Peru looking to have any issues with those peeps! Well, from Tumbes, all the way to the next border with Bolivia, we received the royal "I hate you and I'm going to be the least helpful as possible treatment" from the majority of the Peruvians that we came across. We honestly couldn't figure out what the deal was. Unfortunately, I can't quite share Che Guevara's sentiment; I most certainly did not feel Peruvian in Peru and was more than happy to walk straight across the border, likely not to return, EVER.


I don't like generalizations (I try to avoid making them as much as possible), and I certainly wouldn't say that the entire people of Peru are impolite and cold, but this was simply the experience we had. There may be any number of explanations. Perhaps Peruvians are sick of tourists, or maybe they just didn't like my face. Nonetheless, during the Peru leg of our trip, we did encounter some very nice people as well. Most of them weren't actually from Peru, but there were some scattered nice Peruvians here and there. Social interactions aside, we have seen some amazing, once in a lifetime landscapes and historical sites in the Peruvian nation. I most definitely do not regret having visited.

I wouldn't include the landscapes during the trip down the coast to Lima as part of those "once in a lifetime landscapes." Most of what we saw, from Tumbes down, was dry, dead and generally awful no-man's-land. The saddest part about it is, even though I call it no-man's-land, Peru's poorest of the poor were living in parts of this territory. Lined on the dunes, in the middle of the desert, we passed by several small pueblos of shacks that had been put together by tin, cardboard, sugar cane leaves, and any other waste that could be used for the purpose. These places had no running water, no electricity, nothing; the site provoked a profound sadness in me that I still haven't been able to shake. The sum-all of the melancholy and desperate state of this place, for me, was when I was the only one in the car to notice a rotting cow carcus on the side of the desert road. Why would someone live in such a place? Simple, an over populated world that is becoming quickly exhausted of all of its resources, simply has not for the have nots. Apart from that, you can consider the political implications and consequences that have come down from years of corrupt politics and U.S., Operation Condor, backed dictatorships in Peru (Fujimori, for one) that are governing a people that they do not care for or protect. What's worse is that Fujimori's daughter, Keiko, damn near also got elected as pres in Peru. Welcome again to the Banana Republic.

January 3, 2013, Thursday: There were some sites of relief between Tumbes and Lima, I would refer to them as Oasis, perhaps mirages. During our second day of the trip, we covered a considerable amount of ground. We went from the border with Ecuador, clear down to Trujillo. Around mid-morning, we stopped in the small beach town of Máncora. For some reason, tourists, especially Argentines, love this beach. We were there for around and hour, just enough time to get nasty looks and exaggerated sighs for being indecisive about what we wanted to eat for breakfast. The beach seemed fairly nice, but it was packed with people. Since I'm not big on the beach, or the ocean for that matter, I prefer a much more tranquil spot, aware from the tourist trap madness that Máncora appeared to be. We had lunch in the city of Chiclayo. I don't have much to say about Chiclayo, but to note that it seemed like an interesting, and fairly bustling, little city with some interesting Spanish colonial constructions. We spent the night in Trujillo. I don't know much about this city, but I read that it was founded by Pizarro. We got in at night, but Trujillo had the looks of a very interesting place. The Plaza de Armas (essential every main plaza in every city of Peru is called this) looked really pretty from what we saw from the car. Unfortunately, Trujillo also managed to royally piss me off. The city has a bad reputation for noise pollution, and there's a very good reason for it. Every single driver in Trujillo, especially the taxi drivers, find themselves overwhelmed by a relentless, constant and undying urge to honk their horn as often and as pointlessly as possible. The entire night I found myself being periodically and sporadically awakened by a taxi driver that had taken the courtesy of modifying his horn to be even more obnoxious.

January 4, 2013, Friday: We shot out of Trujillo bright and early. It was a hilarious exit of the city because Fausto, the driver, decided he would also partake in the random, for no reason, honking at everybody and everything. Coming from the perspective of a passenger inside the vehicle, and not someone trying to get some sleep in the middle of the night, this was just hysterical! We had a great time honking and yelling our way out of Trujillo. There isn't much to say about the rest of that day's trip down to Lima. We sped on through the rest of the desert and the scattered cities and pueblos amongst it. Stopping at gas stations was always a heart-dropping experience, as gas prices in Peru are even higher than in the states (almost $5 a gallon). Not far from Lima, still in the middle of the desert, "Dagummit, blow out!" We lost our right rear tire, but Fausto masterfully steered us to the side of the road without problems. The scary part was the tire blew right where there was a group of indigenous ladies waiting for a bus; they scattered quite quickly.

By late Friday afternoon, we were getting dropped off on the side of the road in Lima. This in itself was a sort of terrifying experience, as I have never been to Lima, and I was to one who calculated, based on a Google map on my tablet, where we should be let off to catch a taxi that would be the nearest distance to our hostel. Fortunately, my calculations weren't off and we didn't land in a mugging zone or get charged a hellacious cab fare. It was pretty tough saying goodbye to the guys, they were great fun and we had become good friends during our long trip. We stayed in a section of Lima called Miraflores, which could only be described as "the neighborhood of Peru's have-muchos." To be quite honest, I haven't seen a neighborhood that upscale in Latin America, since Argentina's Recoleta district. The good thing about it was it was a very safe and convenient part of Lima to be in. We quickly located a decent hostel, got some advice on where to eat and helped ourselves to some of the most delicious sandwiches I have had in a long while (Mine was shredded chicken with pineapple and a delicious combo of ketchup, mustard and mayonnaise).

January 5th, 2013, Saturday:
We explored Miraflores and the Historic Center of Lima. The highlight of Miraflores? We went to the market to check it out and I decided to treat myself to a jugo (pure juice), after which enjoying, I was promptly charged the gringo price of 7 soles, around $3 usd, chalk another one up to Peruvian hospitality. Around midday, we caught a Metrobus to the historic center (apparently Lima's recently inaugurated electric bus transit system), which worked really well. The historic center's plaza is called, you guessed it, La Plaza de Armas. It has some very impressive Spanish cathedrals, but they were closed for some reason. Nonetheless, it was breathtaking to be in that Plaza, it's one of the biggest I've seen and the buildings are beautiful. Very near the plaza is a preserved Incan wall, that the Spanish managed to not destroy and a small museum with an excavation site of some interesting Incan ruins. We then took a short walk to the cathedral and convent of San Francisco de Asisi; this guy got around (I think he has a convent and cathedral in every major city in South America). I am generally under the impression that once you've seen the inside of one huge Spanish colonial cathedral, you've seen them all, but it wasn't the case with this one. Part of the tour was a trip down to the catacombs of the cathedral. The foundation that restored the cathedral and convent to open it up to the public as a museum of sorts, got the bright idea to unearth the remains of all of the clergy buried in the catacombs and set the bones out for display. We're talking about literally thousands of bodies worth of femurs, skulls, etc. It was after introducing us to the remains that the tour guide decided to tell us that the four, not so big, pillars that are in the catacombs are what is holding up the entire structure. Thank you, now get me the hell out of this place. We wrapped up our visit to Lima, going back to Miraflores to spend the evening on the "beach." Lima actually is a coastal city, but I felt bad for the Limeños upon seeing their beach. It was probably the rockiest seaside I've seen, it has these huge river-rock like stones in the place of sand. Nevertheless, people were surfing, hanging out and seemed to be having a lot of fun. The next day, we caught a 9am flight out of Lima, bound for the mountains, Cuzco and Machu Picchu!

Leaving Home for Home and Off Again, To Find Another Home (Part 1)

It has been an eventful few weeks since I last wrote from the hammock in Quito, and there is quite a bit to tell! Let me begin by locating myself, Lima, Peru, check! How did I get here? I didn't take lesson from Hermione Granger, so aparating was out of the question. No, I came this far by much more conventional transportation, Toyota. Still a bit lost? Let me fill in the grey areas a bit.

I flew into Quito on the 12th of December, announcing my triumphant return to Latin America and blogging in one fell swoop of complaints and excuses. Well, as promised, I have come up with a new format and new ideas. These new adventures aren't part of a solo show any longer; I'm now accompanied by an excellent photographer, companion, and, not to mention, she's not such a bad girlfriend either (most of the time), Daniela, Danita, Dani. The new format will include photos shot by Dani with her new Pentax K-5. Gone are the days of my horrible writing being accompanied by even worse photos (or none at all). Our Days Boca Arriba will still subject you to some pretty miserable reading, but you will have very pretty pictures to look at to help you through it. 

Dani stayed behind, in the States (until the 18th of December), to get the whole graduation ceremony and all of that jazz out of the way; I guess becoming a Doctor is a pretty big deal :-) To the right is our photographer becoming Dra. Báez, ISU Commencement Winter ´12 (I´m pretty damn proud of her). Dani joined up with me in Quito on the 18th of December (I basically did absolutely nothing, but lay around her family's house, watch $1 pirated movies, eat, sleep and eat until then). Being back in Quito really felt like being home again. I came almost too familiar with Quito in 2011/12, and it's my home away from no home now, I suppose. 

Once Dani got into Quito, we did a a lot of hanging out, and, after getting a little bored, decided to take a short trip to Papallacta, a small mountain pueblo to the west of Quito. Papallacta is amazing for one reason, incredible natural hot spring pools that melt you and your stress into wonderful obliteration. After my time in the North, I needed some good ol' southern comfort; this was the place for it. The bus trip to Papallacta was surprisingly bearable, for the most part. Even in the long distance buses in Ecuador, it's common for people to ride standing up, as the seats tend to fill up quickly. This time around, and unbeknownst to us until later, a little old lady, obliged to stand because no one offered her their seat (something Ecuador really needs to work on) began to pass out from altitude sickness while. Dani and I saw what was happening, saw no one doing anything and, the next thing you know, we were the ones standing for the next 45 minutes. We offered her our seats. The funny thing was, as neither of us were very acclimated to the altitude either, we were breathing slowly and calculated so as not to be the next ones down. I had passed by Papallacta dozens of times in my bus trips to Tena and the Amazon, but it never occurred to me to stop in this little middle of the mountain nowhere place two hours outside of Quito, what was I thinking? The price of the hotel is a bit carito (expensive) for a backpacker, but it was well worth it. 

I could have stayed at the springs of Papallacta for days (if I had the cash), but we wanted to spend some holiday time in Quito. The holiday festivities in Quito are very much centered around family and the birth of Christ; we spent Christmas Eve with Dani's familia and went to Christmas Eve Mass (sacrilege for me, I know). The mass was very nice and included the traditional splashing of handmade baby Jesus dolls, brought by the attendees, with holy water. Onward, to the end of the year celebrations. 

It all starts with, what else, men dressed as women! December was all about spending some time with family, enjoying the holidays and, once again, getting to see the machos of Quito get in touch with their more "feminine side." If you have no clue what I am talking about and are completely appalled and confounded by the following photos, you'll have to back and read my post from Christmas and New Years 2011/2012. The following, for your visual enjoyment, are a "lovely" photo and short vid of this years viudas, (widows):

The gentlemen, as you can see, were in rare form this year. We counted down to the New Year, eating uvas (grapes; you eat 12 for the chimes of the clock in order to have a plentiful new year) as Daniela's sister and aunt ran around the neighborhood with suitcases (so that you will travel much in the new year). I decided not to partake in the running of the luggage, as I was already certain that there would be plenty of traveling in my furture. The night skyl of Quito illuminated the mountains with fireworks, but visibility quickly became very low, thanks to the burning of thousands of años viejos (the paper maché dolls that represent the old year). It was a good send off for 2012, which needed to get on out, seeing how the world decided not to come to an end after all (blast it!).

Through a very incredible and happy coincidence, it wasn't long after the New Year, on the 2nd of January to be exact, that we were headed off south from Quito, en route to the border with Peru. During December, I talked often with Dani's uncle, Marcelo (Chelo, for short), because we are good friends and he's a long time mechanic/car enthusiast, so we have plenty to talk about. It turned out that Chelo and three friends of his were planning a trip to Paracas, Peru (a city a few hours to the south of Lima), to see a leg of the Dakar rally (a desert race that started in Peru this year) (http://www.dakar.com/index_DAKus.html). What a coincidence, we need to go that way too! Thanks to Chelo, we got to ride all the way down to Lima in a private car (this is a huge luxury compared to the bus ride that we were dreading having to take, trust me).

Leg 1 (Wednesday, January 2):
Bright and early, after a night of packing and three precious hours of sleep, we threw our brand new hiking packs into a huge 4X4 Toyota (huge for a Toyota, that is) and we soon found ourselves flying through the nausea provoking curves of Ecuador's Andes.
Plastic was a must, it's the rainy season (seems like it's always the rainy season in the Andes):

We made incredible time down to the border. I was amazed that we actually made it to Peru by nightfall; Ecuador's highways are nice, well-paved and all since Presidente Correa took the helm, but their mostly two-lane (one for northbound and the other for southbound cars) and you really can't do much about the curves and switchbacks through mountain terrain. In advanced and developed countries like the States, we just blow a whole through the damn mountain with dynamite, but, alas, the environmentally conscious didn't find this to be a viable option in Ecuador.

We burned through the mountain highways, as well as the Toyota's brakes, from Quito, to Ambato, passing Guayaquil, nearing the South Pacific in the city o Machala and stopping for a considerable length of time in Canton Huaquillas, for border processing. The border crossing station was actually really nice and quite well-designed. The guards told us that some European country (or the European Union?) contributed a considerable inversion to build border crossing stations for Ecuador and Peru, equal on both sides. Even with all of the lovely and new facilities, the computer system faltered. I could only laugh because the is an all too common occurrence for any government run agency in many countries in Latin America, the damn system always fails! They even have many common phrases for it, for the Spanish-speaking readers, "se trabó el sistema, se cayó, se fue, etc." So, after a few hours at the border, we received brand new and original stamps for our passports (I may fill that passport before 2017 yet!)

Here are some photos of us jazzing up Peru´s border:

Chelo is to the far left, followed by Abel, Javier and myself, all super good guys and I now consider them friends. It was an awesome and hilarious trip riding with these gentlemen. Fausto, the guy who drove the most, isn't here, but he'll be in other photos.

They were holding our poor Toyota hostage until its paperwork was processed as well (note the shotgun-packing Peruvian guard to the left of it):

After getting processed into Peru, we head on down to the little border town of Tumbes. I can't really give a good opinion of Tumbes because we came in late at night and flew out early in the morning. I would say it was what you expect a border town to be, not much to speak of, basic, a place to spend the night and get out the the next day. My first impression of Peru, thanks to Tumbes, was, "It kinda smells here," there was a strange odor coming in from the ocean. It kind of smelled like a combo of salt water, wet dog and something dead. The following are some other first impression: the people were friendly and good-looking in Tumbes, there are a ton of moto-taxis (somebody got the bright idea to take moped/motorcycles and turn them into mini taxes), Peruvians love to honk their horn for no apparent reason, I don't see as much trash in city streets (as compared to Ecuadorian cities), things are a little on the expensive side ($2.54 Peruvian Soles to 1 usd, which welcomed me back to the disaster that is converting money and thinking in conversion rates constantly when buying anything) and people seem to be more difficult to approach and greet in comparison with Ecuadorians. Aside from that, running on 3 hours of sleep, I was way too tired to think straight or observe anything.