Paradise on the Pan-American Highway

Please forgive my lack of blogging! As our trip began to wind down so did our bank accounts and Internet became strictly utilitarian much to my Blog's chagrin. However, I am back and able to recount some of the amazing experiences we had in the last month of our trip. In Chiclayo we found ourselves in a pickle as we searched every bus company in town for a way to get to Tarapoto where we would then get to Yurimaguas and take a boat along the Amazon River into Iquitos. After many warnings of , "Es muy peligroso," and not much else, a kind old man showed me a newspaper in which the road we were attempting to take had been destroyed by a 6.4 magnitude earthquake the night before. Stranded in hot and steamy Chiclayo inland from the beach with the most machismo, cat calling locals everywhere was not the best option for waiting around for road repair and I began to feel melancholy. After brainstorming in our ridiculous hostel room, Zach, Ben and I decided to head up to Mancora while we altered our plans.

Mancora turned out to be beyond a highlight in our journey and the best detour I have ever taken. As our bus ambled up the coast amongst giant dunes of ancient sand, we began to smell the fresh ocean air and my anxiety was quelled. We turned a corner and the ocean spread out before my eyes like a giant oasis of life and tranquility. We hopped in a moto taxi, the mode of choice for travel in Northern Peru and found a little spot full of Indonesian style palm thatched bungalows and hammocks everywhere outside. After throwing my pack down, I promptly headed out to the beach where a thick fog made the distant fishing boats look as vague as an oil painting. The next day was gorgeous and we played in the frothy Pacific ocean water for hours letting our concerns about reaching the Amazon drift out to sea. Nights were full of debauchery with thumping music at sandy beach bars, followed by impromptu bonfires with interesting Peruvian locals. At Green Eggs and Ham, our favorite spot to eat owned by a Southern couple from the states we would enjoy tall stacks of fluffy pancakes and fresh jugo de pina with a touch of peach. Days of surfing, sun bathing, and frolicking faded into dinners of fresh tuna in terriyaki sauce, cold beers and late nights. Despite its location on the Pan-American highway, the duality was more interesting than conflicting as buses zoomed by on their way to Ecuador and trucks rushed by unaware of the paradise on the other side of the road. Tanned and tranquil we reluctantly hopped on a bus to Lima in order to make our way to the elusive Amazonia.

Ceviche in Lima

Our time in Lima was short and I spent most of it in bed unfortunately due to a terrible cold I caught at our hostel in Cusco. We stayed outside of the city proper in Miraflores, a wealthy neighborhood technically considered to be a suburb. A walk along the beach revealed a strange hybrid of highway and sand that was quite uninviting. So why is Lima known for their close proximity to the ocean? One word: Ceviche. This incredible dish is one of my favorites and originates in Lima. Limeños, people from Lima, indulge in long ceviche lunches and we were fortunate enough to join them on our last day in town. Ceviche is a dish composed of raw fish cooked in the acids from lime and sometimes lemons. Limes are in abundance in Peru where Pisco sours and ceviche originated. The small round limes are sold in giant bags and can be found in most hostel fridges it seems. We dined at La Mar which is said to be the best place to enjoy ceviche in Lima. We ordered the sampling ceviche composed of small dishes of several different types. I had no idea ceviche came in so many shapes and colors and such a range of complex flavors. From squid in an Aji pepper marinade to red tuna with seaweed and soy, they were all delicious and unique. Truly a tasty way to end a quick visit to Lima!

Adventures in Peruvian Wonderland

Crossing the Bolivian border into Peru has provided us with even more incredible experiences and sights. Cusco, the oldest city in the Americas is located in a valley filled with stucco houses with Spanish tiled red roofs, gorgeous ornate churches and Incan ruins. Truly a hybrid city, ancient Incan stone walls provide the foundation for narrow alleys filled with old ladies in brightly colored skirts carrying days old baby llamas while Spanish colonial style wooden balconies seat chic and bohemian travelers sipping coffee and pisco sours over the Plaza de Armas. The city spirals outwards into the surrounding rolling hills, a winding, steep oasis in the Sacred Valley of the Incas. I had no idea so much Incan architecture amd influence would still be so prevalant centuries after being conquered by the Spaniards. However, the Incan spirit is still strong even if there are no remaining Natives in the land. The rainbow flag symbolizing Pacha Mama, Mother Earth, and her abundance provided to them is still central to the culture. Most street vendors know their stuff about the Incas and their traditions, the gods they worshipped, their animal symbolism, and their pottery. It is with mixed feelings that one encounters this rich history of beliefs while remembering that they were brutally destroyed during the Spanish Inquisition. After a few days of wandering into art galleries and studios, watching craftsman make gorgeous string instruments and resting in the tranquil parks, we got ready for the epic trek to Machu Picchu.

Rather than spend an extravagant amount of money on the Inca trail, we opted for the do it ourselves route which proved to be quite rewarding. After a six hour bus ride to Santa Maria, we got in a packed taxi and drove through the jungle cloud forest along cliffs and over waterfalls before being dropped off at the edge of a cliff with rapids gushing below. We hopped on a tiny cable cart and were propelled across the water to the other side where we hoped to rush and catch a train to Aguas Calientes. We missed the train which resulted in trekking in the jungle at night for three and a half hours along the train tracks, often walking from track to track over large gaps with only rapids to catch us below. We emerged sticky and tired in Aguas Calientes starving and covered in bites. The next morning we began hiking up to Machi Picchu around 5 AM. It was still dark and our muscles ached from the previous night, but I was determined to reach the top before the buses full of tourists arrived at the top. The stairs were ancient, steep and unforgiving. We climbed those relentless stairs in the dark at first, and then in a mist of fresh clouds as the sun began to rise. Small flowers began to blossom with the new day and the jungle came alive with the sounds of birds and streams of small waterfalls. Short of breath and exhausted we arrived at the top. Unfortunately we did not beat the buses there, but the sense of accomplishment we felt more than compensated for this. After entering, an emotion that can only described as spiritual overcame me as I stood overlooking the misty Incan ruins assembled against the odds in the lush cloud forest of greenery and impossibility. We wandered through the stone wonderland, picturing the Incas as they once lived and admiring their tenacity for building such a place so far from anything and everything that it was at once everything and anything they could ever need. As the sun began to shine through the windows of ancient stone, the village lit up and the mysterious mist unveiled new perspectives. At one point the sheer beauty of a valley against Waynapicchu, a giant peaking mountain with the ruins on either side and cliff drops below broght me near tears. I found a small window to sit in and look out at the mountains where I wrote and meditated for a while. The silence was a rarity given the immense amount of tourists that pour into Machu Picchu daily, approximately a thousand each day! We returned down the way we had come up, our legs tired and our minds opened. The energy emanating from this mysterious, mountain village was one of a brilliant past, an incredibly intelligent and powerful people, and a tragedy for their demise.

Cusco from San Blas

Plaza de Armas in Cusco

Machu Picchu as the fog began to lift

Early morning mist at Machu Picchu

Sapphire Respite

After an arduous journey from Sucre in the south of Bolivia to La Paz on the chilliest bus ride of my existence, Lake Titicaca´s shores were truly a sight for sore eyes. The impossibly blue water sparkled in undulating currents of splendor against the bright, crisp blue sky. Burnt sienna mountains rose in the distance overpowered by giant glacial peaks that seemed to rise from dense white clouds. We spent a couple of days in Copacabana before setting off on boat to Isla del Sol, the legendary birthplace of Inti, the Incan sun god. We saw Incan ruins, magnificent views, did yoga amidst sheep facing the lake and watched life occur as if frozen in time. The people on the island have no cars, some lack electricity and they spend their time herding donkeys, collecting corn and watching the moon rise. It was refreshing to exist in that moment in time only, not thinking about politics or global events. Our world can be as large or as immediate as we perceive it to be. Rather than thinking about what is going on oceans and miles away, I have found myself truly existing on the current plane, in the geographic speck on the planet that I find myself in at a given moment. We returned from the island to our lovely green hostel where we found ourselves cooking ramen on our small electric stove atop our Lonely Planet book around 1 am. Starving after a couple weeks in Bolivia, we were anxious to move toward Peru, incredibly excited to meet our friend and enjoy some more palatable (and edible) food. Between bus rides in Puno, Peru, we ate tamales steaming in their corn husks and eyed the vast market of fruits we had never seen, streetside cevice, and small speckled eggs carted around with birds in tow. After a long bus ride we arrived in Cusco last night. We´ll spend a few days here enjoying the oldest city in America, admiring Incan walls and Spanish colonial squares before heading off to Machu Picchu and exploring the Sacred Valley.


Copacabana

The beach on the north end of Isla del Sol at sunset

Sleep deprived and sunburned enjoying the sunset in Copacabana

Moon rise over Lake Titicaca

On the boat from Copacabana to Isla del Sol

Just a snippet of the incredible amount of fresh produce at the market in Sucre

Lake Titicaca from Isla del Sol

Unbelievable Bolivia

We just got back from our 4 day tour of the southwest mountains, desert and salt flats of Bolivia. What a trip! Amongst the amazing sights we were fortunate enough to witness, there were geysers spewing muddy lava, natural hot springs from the crevices of the mountains, Salvador Dali´s desert, a green lagoon, three different types of flamingos, llamas, vicuñas, a red lagoon, several volcanos and a hostage situation. The latter of which is a story I will save for a later date. The sights were out of this world. I often felt as though we were on the moon, a sensation I won´t soon forget. We were the only Americans in our group amongst nine Israelis which provided an unexpected opportunity to learn more about the Jewish homeland and life for people in their twenties in Israel. To think that all of these people my age had already served years in the army is still difficult to wrap my mind around. Who knew the most Israelis I have ever met would be found in Bolivia of all places! The pictures really speak for themselves so I will post a few here. Seeing sights like these enabled me to have the unique opportunity to understand how small humans are on this giant, beautiful earth and to perceive how long life has been here before us and how long it will continue long after we are gone. What a wonderful, complicated, confusing, spectacular and humbling world.

In our Jeep in Salvador Dali´s desert

Flamingos in the morning light

Laguna Colorada

At the largest salt flat in the world, Salar de Uyuni

Flamingos at Laguna Cañapa

Pueblo Fantasma, ruins of an old mining village

Zen at Salar de Uyuni

A letter home from Bolivia

Staying in a loud hostel ful of rowdy Israelis that don´t appear to need sleep and horseback riding for 5 hours has left me quite exhausted! I wrote this letter to my family and I decided it said everything I had the energy to express so I´m posting it here. Forgive my laziness, the Bolivian altitude must be getting to me!

Hola chicos!

We arrived in Bolivia yesterday after crossing the border from La Quica, AR to Villazon, Bolivia. Customs and crossing the border was easy for everyone we are traveling with (Irish, English, Australian, Canadian, Uruguayan, Polish...), but not for us! Bolivia does not like Americans very much so we had to pay a hefty $130 USD and show tons of paperwork, give them photos of ourselves, etc. It was quite the adventure into Bolivian bureaucracy! We succesfully crossed the border and quickly got out of Villazon, a very unattractive border town. The bus ride was quite bumpy as only 5% of Bolivia´s roads are paved. We arrived in Tupiza, an old western kind of town with lots of horses and red rocks. Everything is much, much cheaper here which is quite a relief after the inflated prices in Argentina. We went on a five hour horseback tour today for about $15 USD each and we got to wear real leather gaucho hats! my horse was quite possibly the slowest horse in Bolivia, making the ride quite relaxing. It is possible that my horse, Callablanca, only spoke Spanish, which might explain why my commands were heard in vain. Although I´m pretty sure a kick in the sides means go universally! We have decided to break off from our travel group as groups are much more complicated to travel with and we are moving fairly quickly in order to reach Colombia by June. We haggled (en español!) to get a low price on a 4 day tour to the salt flats in Uyuni. They are the highest in the world. Along the way we will see flamingos, red and green lagoons, geysers, two volcanos, a hotel made entirely of salt (yum!), and llamas! I am very excited!! I have eaten one llama empanada, however, I decided based upon my favorite childhood book, "Llama, Are You my Mama", that I will not indulge in any more llama products with the exception of sweaters and other knit goods. I did however drink a licauado witrh my dinner tonight, a mix of milk and fruit that is very popular here and very delicious! Our route from Uyuni will be to Sucre then Potosi then to La Paz only to catch the bus to Cococabana where we will stay on Isla del Sol on Lake Titicaca before crossing into Peru and climbing Machu Picchu! Sorry for the long rambling e-mail, I am missing speaking English after only speaking Spanish to everyone but Ben! We are having a wonderful time and I am learning a lot about life in these countries and about myself. Some days are hard but I already have such a different perspective and I learn so much everyday, it is incredible. You would hardly recognize me!

Besos,
Natalie

Gorgeous Quebrada de Humuhuaca

It took many, many hours on buses but it was well worthwhile to skip ahead on our jouney to the Quebrada of northwest Argentina. Tiny mountain villages dance between the massive Andes with gorgeous local crafts, multichromatic mountainscapes, adobe homes, and cobble stone streets. Our first stop was Purmamarca where we camped with the most spectacular view of the Cerro de los Siete Colores, a truly mesmerizing site. We hiked around, bought llama clothes from the ongoing local crafts fair around the town square and listened to pan flute music play Simon and Garfunkel. Yes, it was a little slice of mountain heaven. It was with an understandably heavy heart that I got back on the bus to head up to the next village on our path to Bolivia. We arrived quickly in Tilcara, another amazing village. This one has a livelier vibe with an artisan colony and lots of down to earth, chill people just enjoying the natural beauty at every turn. We took a four hour hike today to the Garganta del Diablo, or Devil´s Throat to see a waterfall in the midst of the mountain desert. At night we have been cooking fresh chorizo from the carniceria over the fire with fresh bread. My Spanish is slowly improving and my interractions have become significantly less awkard which is definitely a plus. Upon our arrival to Tilcara, in search of a homestay we followed around a drunk local carrying our packs for about 25 minutes while he rambled, we stared blankly and wondered whether we were going on a hike or to a house. Just one of many lost in trabslation moments that have left me laughing so hard I have to put my backpack down. I still have a highly limited vocabulary and get a lot of blank looks but I can order food well and that is an improvement in my mind! Tomorrow we will head out to a precolonial fortress and then on to Humuhuaca, a Quechuan village where no amount of Spanish will help us! Tonight we will dine in town in our llama sweaters and sleep under the stars. Buenas noches chicos!