MP and Sailing the ´High´ Seas

Eight months on the road. I can see holes in my hands where numerous splinters have been dug out with a sewing needle, along with a number of other unidentified cuts and scratches. The latest layer of skin on my nose has almost completely peeled off, leaving behind bright pink splotches. As I scratch my beard and reflect on the excitement of the last couple weeks I am reminded that it has been over a month since I last shaved. I seem to be letting my chiseled image fall to the wayside, but for what...?

My last post left off right as we were about to head out to the famous Incan complex of Machu Picchu, but before I headed out I had to try the infamous Peruvian delicacy known as Cuy. In the states we call them guinea pigs, and here they´ve been on the dinner table for millenia. While many tourists fork out a hefty penny to have a nice guinea pig fillet from a proper restaurant, I decided to try the endemic version at the local market. While I had been mentally prepared for the sight of the little creature on my plate, I have to say that the topping of uncooked seawead and fish eggs caught me a little by surprise. At this point I had already struck up a convesation with some locals at the same table, so to save face I had to force down a bit of everything. I was pleasantly surprised by the taste of the cuy, and at the risk of breaking the cliché, I would relate the flavor much more to that of pork than of chicken.



With my belly full of giant hamster meat Viviana and I hopped on the 8pm bus to sart our alternative approach to Macchu Piccu. As I mentioned before, the typical route is far too expensive for our stretched out travel budget, so our new plan was to take the overnight bus from Cusco to Santa Maria, arriving at 2AM. From there we hop in a collectivo (shared van) to the small town of Santa Theresa, arriving at 3AM. At this point we lay out the sleeping mats in the middle of the main plaza and take a nap until 5AM, when we catch a ride with some workers out to the hydroelectric plant. From the hydroelectric plant we walk along railroad tracks for 3 hours until we reach the town of Aguas Calientes, the typical starting point for the final climb to Machu Picchu. Despite our haphazardly planning and a few horrifying cliff-side bus rides, our plan worked flawlessly and only set us back about $12 each. However, arriving at Aguas Calientes was only part of the battle, and the next hurdle would be getting to the gate early enough to be able to climb Wayna Picchu, the photogenic mountain in the background of every Machu Picchu photo worth bragging about. The lucratively popular ruins receive an average of 2500 people per day and only the first 400 are allowed to climb Wayna Piccu. In order to make it in this group without staying at the $600/night hotel or taking an equally overpriced tour, you have to line up at the main gate at 5AM and then hike up 1600 odd-shaped stone steps to an office where you get your ticket stamped. Of course this was our plan, and when we arrived at the gate we were surprised to see that not only were there about 40 other people waiting, but a number of them were decked out in shiny new jogging shoes and spandex pants, ready to race to the top. At 4:50 the gate opened and we all started the ascent. After a couple flights I realized I was in the lead, and the people behind me were starting to pant heavily. Then suddenly I heard Viviana yell out from a half flight of stairs below ´Go Alex Go!´ At this point my competitive spirit kicked in and I decided to try and go for the gold. Employing my disgruntled teenager hiking style (jacket dangling from wrists, arms flopping around randomly) I quickly beat everyone to the top, only to find another 20 people from the hotel already waiting. Viviana came up soon after with a respectable 6th place and after another 30 minutes in line we started into the much anticipated Incan metropolis. At this point it was difficult to believe that anything could live up to the hype that precedes Machu Picchu, but as soon as the city unfolded before us we were completely astonished. The complexity of the buildings and sheer area it consumes is impressive, but what really sets it apart is the location. The ancient university, temples, houses, terraces, and other stone structures are just perfectly perched on the top of a mountain that drops steeply away on all sides. Upon our arrival there was a mist floating through the area that added a touch of mysticism to the experience. Soon after walking through the main gate we flashed our stamps and started climbing Wayna Picchu. An hour more of steep stone steps and we found ourselves on the top of the mountain, which is also covered in ruins and feels like a fortress in the sky, looking down onto the main ruins below. We passed the day exploring the various temples, astronomical observatories, and ceremonial fountains before finally returning to the real world below in Aguas Calientes. A short dip in the local hotsprings followed by a good nights sleep prepared us for the return journey along the railroad tracks, back to Cuzco and the Sacred Valley.

Macchu Piccu is by far the most famous leftover city in Peru, but there is a plethora of other astonishing ruins all around Cuzco known as the Sacred Valley. Unfortunately to see these ruins you also have to pay a hefty sum of around $50 for
a tourist pass. Thanks to a tip from our Spanish traveling companions, we found a way to drop this price in half, and hopefully save a bundle more on other sights down the road. All we had to do was make a few ´modified´ academic transcripts to show that we are still students, slap on Michael Jackson´s signature in place of the school registrar, and apply for a local ID card at the Cuzco office. With the new golden ID card in hand we swept through the valley, stopping at the ancient city of Ollantaytambo, the massive walls of Saqsaywaman, the intricate caverns of Q´enqo, and the royal tombs of Pisaq. Soon our heads were packed full of Incan history, and we felt ready to slip over toward our next destination on the shores of Lake Titicaca.

Before heading into Bolivia, we stopped briefly at the town of Puno to see the floating islands of the Uros people. This tribe has lived for centuries on the
waters of Lake Titicaca, constructing their own islands out of the totora reed, a fast growing plant found in abundance near the lake shores. In addition to the land istself, they also build their boats, houses, furniture, and just about everything else out of this reed. Despite the immense impact that tourism has had on their culture, it was incredible to see such a perfect use of renewable, locally available resources. A short visit to the lake got my mind moving in new directions, and on our way to Bolivia I started formulating plans for a little free-style island hopping.

Upon arriving in Copacabana I quickly set out researching a way to row out to the nearby Isla del Sol. I spoke with a local about renting a canoe, but he quickly convinced me that the proper way to get around on the ´highest navegable lake in the world´ was with a sail. He showed me his boat, which was tiny and had a mast and other crucial elements made out of logs and used horseshoes. Although I was a bit nervous about the quality of the craft, and the fact that I had no previous sailing experience, Bolivians can be very convincing, and after a half hour sailing lesson we were hashing out the details of the ship rental. That night we stocked up on provisions and the next day Viviana and I headed out for our three day sailing trip. We started off at 6AM, and the first hour the wind was at our backs and we were cruising along. Another hour later and we were sitting in one spot in the middle of the lake, catching a sunburn and praying for wind. I tried the oars for a bit to help us along, but this quickly filled my palms with tons of little splinters as only a couple inches of each handmade oar had been sanded down. Eventually the wind did pick up, but this time it came right at our faces. Using the zig-zag pattern we slowly made our way toward the island, arriving at 5PM, only 7 hours later than the locals had promised us. The next day we lowered our aim and decided to sail around to the other side of the island, instead of all the way to the north. In just a few hours fighting the wind we arrived. With the help of 5 locals we pulled the boat on shore and hauled our gear up to a small hostal with a humongous view. We cooked our rice and had a couple beers at sunset, then passed out to rest for another long day returning to the mainland. The next morning we recruited a few locals and one other tourist to help push the boat back in. The tourist turned out to be from Washington state, and liked fishing, so we offered him a ride back to Copacabana. This time we made it back in a swift 4 hours. The sailboat trip was truly an adventure, and when we got back all we wanted to do was relax and play it safe.



So now we are here in La Paz, the dense Bolivian capital built in a steep valley. Our arrival was hectic, but now we are starting to unwind, passing the day eating delicious local salteñas and touring the many plazas. My hands have begun the healing process and today I may even search out a barber. Of course no matter what temporary improvements are made the trip goes on, and the real rest won´t come until sometime next spring when we finally get back to our native land.

Hills and Valleys

At the end of my seventh month I found myself, once again, on a bus. This time the bus was climbing upwards to the town of Huaraz in the Cordillera Blanca. The only reason for visiting Huaraz is to set off on a hike in the snowcapped peaks that surround the town. Perhaps the altitude was affecting my judgement, but for some reason I decided to do this hike with a tour company. They arranged all the transportation, guides, food, and even mules to carry our packs on the 4 day trip. After winding through innumerable switchbacks by bus, we hiked into the lower section of the valley and set up camp. We could already see the snowcapped peaks looming further up the canyon. This is also the point when we started really questioning the tour. As we set up camp the guide realized he was a tent and a few sleeping bags short. Luckily Viviana and I had brought our own sleeping bags as backups, knowing how cold it can get at 16000 feet. Of course these ´minor´ omitions were just adding to our dissatisfaction, as the tour had already been delayed a day for an altitude sick couple from Holland that never came, and the group was also nearly twice the size we were promised. Luckily our woes and my complaining came to an abrupt stop the following day when we hit Union Pass, the highest point on the hike with undoubtedly one of the most amazing views of my life. We stopped for lunch and about 82 pictures of the scenery and then continued down into the canyon to set up camp in another valley that looked like it was straight out of a screensaver. At this point we could really feel the altitude and it was amazing to see how well the coca leaves worked to fight the symptoms. We had bought a bag for about 15 cents on the way up and after macerating (dont chew!) for 5 minutes the high mountain headache quickly subsided. The last day we descended to find that instead of camping by the beautiful trout-filled river we had been following, instead we would be camping in some guys backyard/farm in a town nearby. The ammenities in the yard included a nice view of the village, about 200 piles of horse shit, and even a delightful spectacle of 4 men castrating a horse no more than 20 feet from our tent at 6 AM. An hour or so of bargaining for some of our money back proved highly unsuccessful, and we finished off the tour with a dip in some local hotsprings to wash away our indignation. Despite the bad experience with the tour, the mountain range was thoroughly impressive and left us in high spirits as we headed back down to sea level on our way to Lima.

Originally we had planned to shoot through Lima, stopping for just one night before heading into the canyon country. We dropped off our stuff and set off to see the downtown area. The city quickly surpassed our admittedly low expectations and the government buildings surrounding the main plaza were in contention for the most impressive we`ve seen yet. After the plaza we did a little experiment to see if Viviana would get a better price on a pair of pants at the market than I would, seeing that she looks rather Peruvian and I stand out like a Hanson brother at a Daddy Yankee concert. Although I was able to procure a similar price (a couple of Soles more), I had to haggle for 20 minutes and she received the better deal without a word. Donning my new pair of pants we caught the city bus back to the hostel and started to plan our exit. As Viviana plugged in for a final facebook check before we hit the road she saw a message from a mutual friend, Olga, that lives in Lima, whom we had already contacted twice before to plan our visit, and whom we had completely forgotten about. When traveling for an extended period it is rare that you really get to know people well, and an opportunity to see a familiar face (and sleep for free) is always welcome. We quickly changed our plans and decided to spend a few days partying and seeing the city with our personal guide. I started the fiesta off by setting her stove on fire and melting the nice glass cover piece, fortunately realizing before the apartment caught. After ordering a costly replacement we toured the citys parks, restaraunts, and markets. In the bohemian neighborhood of Barranco we had the pleasure of tasting skewered cow heart, which was actually quite delicious. In the upscale neighborhood of Miraflores we sampled a number of different varieties of pisco, the local firewater made from distilled grapes. In the beachfront neighborhood of Chorrillos we watched huge hoardes of pelicans begging at the fish market. It took us a while to adapt to the late nights in Lima, but by the final night we had it. A beer-and-pisco filled prefunk at Olgas friends house carried us until 2AM at which point we went to the local bar and downed a bottle of Aguardiente in an homage to Olgas Colombian heritage. After semi-succesfully shaking off our hangovers the next day with a tour of the Incan city of Pachacamac we hopped on the 16 hour overnight bus for Arequipa to prepare for some more hiking.

Arequipa is yet another beautiful colonial city, and this time it was the jumping off point for Colca Canyon, a massive slice in the earth that is said to be twice as deep as the grand canyon (although my GPS says differently). Before we began our 3000 ft. tumble into the canyon we decided to head out bright and early to catch a sight of the incredible `potential` Andean Condor. The `potential` Andean Condor is a breathtaking sight, and as you watch the small black dot cirle around miles away in the sky you can`t help but wonder, `Is that a condor, or just some crap stuck on my sunglasses?` After the lifechanging condor experience we started the 7 hour hike down the canyon and over to the Oasis, a haven of spring-fed swimming pools and cheap camping at the bottom of the barren canyon. As I limped past a few small indigenous villages before reaching the Oasis I started to notice that none of the other people I saw were carrying tents, sleeping bags, towels, extra clothes, or any of the other items that made up my 40lb backpack. It seems that after hiking down the 3000 ft, you also have to hike back up, and most people were smart enough to use mules for that labor. Fortunately we are on an extended vacation, and so we decided to take a day relaxing by the pool, catching trout from the river, drinking pisco, and then sleeping it all off before making the grueling ascent the following day. After a bumpy ride back to town we caught another overnighter to Cuzco to check out some neatly arranged piles of rocks we`ve been hearing so much about.



Now we find ourselves in the cradle of Incan history, surrounded by some of the most impressive ruins on the planet. We are ready to explore and nothing can stop us... oh except the $61 one hour train ride to Macchu Piccu... oh yeah and the $45 entry fee... and of course the $75 historical sites pass... hmmm... So now we are searching for an alternative route to the worlds most talked about ruins. We think we have a makeshift plan now that involves a little late night travel, but I`ll save that for next time.

Perusing

After leaving our monkey-world we headed on down to Riobamba to take the infamous ´Nariz del Diablo´ train ride that winds down steep switchbacks into southern Ecuador. Unfortunately it was out of service, as we have found about 30% of all businesses, services, and copy machines to be in South America. While coming up with a backup plan we came to the conclusion that we had picked up too many habits and
mannerisms from the monkeys, and really weren´t quite ready for civilization. We packed up again and caught the bus out to Parque Nacional Las Cajas outside the town of Cuenca, a little visited Andean reserve cluttered with small lakes and streams. The park was incredible and we had nearly the whole place to ourselves, passing only two other hikers during our 3 day, 2 night backpacking trip. The trail wound past a plethora of lakes and I was able to stop and try my luck with some trout fishing at a few. Unfortunately my luck turned out to be complete crap, because after catching my only fish (a whopping 4¨) I slipped trying to release the creature and nearly fell in. Luckily I caught myself with the fingernail of my right index finger, tearing it about halfway off and cutting up the neighboring digits in the process. After an evening of pain followed by a night of blissful pain-killer induced sleep we continued on, and the trip once again became beautiful and serene as we hiked passed Incan ruins and wild llamas on our way through the canyon. We popped out onto the road late in the afternoon and hitchhiked back to Cuenca, fully aware that we were behind schedule and needed to make haste to Perú.

My streak of good health continued when I found myself with a fever and horrible stomach ache in the deservingly unheard of border town of Huaquillas. We spent 2 nights there recovering and listening to the horrendous sounds of the local festival, where about 30 drunken adults pack into a little play locomotive for children and scream while the latest reggaeton masterpieces are played on the trains loudspeakers. Finally we crossed the border and my spirits improved when we hit the coastal town of Máncora for some surfing and ceviche. The waves were perfect for a perpetual beginner like me, and Viviana was able to get a one-on-one lesson that got her hooked immediately. We spent a few days riding the waves and avoiding the odd looking Peruvian hairless dogs before continuing south to Chiclayo to catch up on some culture.



This time it was Vivianas turn. I woke up our first morining in Chiclayo to the sound of Viviana releasing last nights ceviche back into the wild. The situation did not look good, so we went straight to the ER of the local hospital. After hooking up an IV and a little more reverse swallowing, we were able to spend the day getting an inside look at the Peruvian health care system. We spent the whole day waiting for results and information while we watched car accident victims, elderly patients, and a young woman that seemed to have completely lost her mind flow through the room. Eventually Viviana got a little ciproflaxin pick-me-up and we headed home. Finally we were both feeling better and we began our tour of the ancient adobe civilizations, the Mochica and Chimú people. North of Chiclayo we saw the pyramid complex of Túcume, an impressive set of pyramids and other buildings all made of adobe. We also stopped by the Museo de Sipán, which houses the findings of the tomb of the Lord of Sipán, who must have been the Jay-Z of the 9th century based on the immense collection of intricate golden necklaces, nose rings, crowns, and other jewelry removed from his tomb. After Chiclayo we made our way down to our current location, Trujillo, and continued the culture course with the Mochica city of Chan-Chan and the massive complexs of Huaca de la Luna and Huaca del Sol. Chan-Chan is an impressive labyrinth of walls, tombs, and ponds that have been restored to their previous splendor. While I found the ancient city to be thoroughly inspiring, the local school children on their field trip seemed to think that a dirty blonde kid
with a red beard was a far rarer sight and I was soon overwhelmed with children wanting to pose with me in their photos. My look must really be perfected now as I also had some yelling out ´Chuck Norris!´ from across the street the other day. But this story is really about the Mochica, and the next buildings we saw were the Temples of the Sun and the Moon. The Temple of the Moon is an old religous center that was continually built up, layer upon layer, for centuries. The outer layers, along with a giant pile of sand, helped protect the intricate details and vibrant colors on the inner layers and these have in turn helped reveal a lot about their unique culture of sacrifices and religious rituals. In times of drought, a bloody gladiator style fight would be held and the loser of the battle would be beheaded, with his blood collected in a cup. The cup would then be brought up to the top of a large stadium and tossed out in front of 10,000 spectators.

The stories of Peruvian history go on, but this one needs to come to an end so I can get out of this internet cafe blasting the Billboard Top 100. Tomorrow we plan to head up to the Cordillera Blanca for some more camping and exploring. The Cordillera Blanca is supposed to be the second largest mountain range in the world, so it should have something for us. It will be a nice change to have less excitement in the Peruvian bathrooms, and more adventure out in the mountains and woods of the Andes.

The Monkey Revolution

Well once again I have gotten lost in the turmoil of traveling and neglected my blog for a bit longer than anticipated. I apologize. Now that that´s out of the way, let´s see if I can get things up to do date...

Salento turned out to be a beautiful, low key mountain town up in the Colombian Andes. It had provided us with some familiar comforts we had been badly missing, such as nice soft beds and delicious pizza. Of course that´s not really our style, so we were quick to toss these aside in turn for a butt breaking horse back ride and a spine straining backpack trip. We arranged the horse ride through an incomprehensible local with one remaining tooth, and his equally odd looking son led us down the road and out to a hidden waterfall a couple hours ride away. I am very much a novice on the animal, and this was Vivianas first time, so we got more than our $10 worth with the steep muddy slopes, dark tunnels, and river crossings. The way back was even more harrowing as the horses slipped and lurched up a narrow, and incredibly muddy, horse trail up a steep hill. The day after the horse trip we decided it might be better to rest our bruised asses and do our backpacking trip into the Valle de Cocora by foot. The first hour wound along a river through picturesque old farmland dotted with wax palms, a local palm tree noted for its especially long, thin trunk. The next section was dense cloud forest, and this we remember for the numerous sketchy bridge crossings, slowly inching with our maxed out backpacks along a couple of small trees felled across the river. After 7 such crossings we arrived at a small house where the overseer of the area resides with his wife. The house was swarmed by more hummingbirds than I had ever seen in my life, including one with a 4 inch beak (Swordbill), and another one with a 6 inch emerald green tail (Long Tailed Sylph). The next two nights we set up our tent on the second floor inside an unfinished barn and passed the evening cooking our meals on the balcony with a great view of the treetops. We were able to catch a few other birds on the trail including an Elegant Trogon and a Pava. After two nights we climbed back out and started south for the hidden tombs of Tierradentro.

Tierradentro is located a 5 hour, bumpy, landslide-strewn bus ride east of Popayan off the pan-american. The town is very small and quiet, and an afternoon of drinking beer by the soccerfield offered us a view of the country life as kids played soccer, horses ran free, and old women gossiped in their doorways. The second day we hiked up and explored the tombs of Aguacate, a series of holes in the ground that lead to ancient tombs of unknown origin. They are all laid out in a line on the crest of a large hill and it makes for a rather eerie experience, especially when you turn on your headlamp and see the plethora of insect life clinging to the walls. We spent only a couple nights here and felt Ecuador pulling us toward it (ironic since there is less gravitational pull there than anywhere else on our trip).

It should be noted that the pan-american highway is not just I-5 for 27000 miles. In Colombia the road is a small undivided 2 lane road winding through turns that prompt the drivers to hand out vomit bags before each journey. The section from Pasto to Ipiales turned out to be the worst that I have experienced so far on my trip. It was only one hour, but the entire time we were clutching our seats in horror as the bus driver consistently passed cars over double lines along sharp blind turns, all while going up to 85kph in the 20kph zone. Of course none of the other passengers blinked an eye at his suicidal manouveres, but I just can´t seem to get used to the insane drivers in Latin America.

We ran off the bus in Ipiales and decided we should thank the higher powers for delivering us safely before we left the country, so we caught a cab over to Santuario Las Lajas, a gorgeous gothic style church spanning a river gorge. The church was exceptional with hundreds of followers in mass when we arrived, but its powers were not strong enough to protect us from the devils true face: the Colombian border security. Viviana had only received a 30 day visa when she entered Colombia, and she had overstayed by two days. In order to receive an exit visa they were trying to charge a $150 fine (I had paid $5 for overstaying my C4 visa in Nicaragua). As we argued for a lower fee we were approached by some interesting characters saying they had ´special connections´ and could get the stamp for half the price. After over an hour of debating we went with the private contractor and a nerve racking taxi ride to the ATM along with another hour of arguing got us the visa for a mere $130 (hmm...). Needless to say we were happy to cross the imaginary, yet laborious line into Ecuador.

In Ecuador we headed straight to Quito, where we spent a few days visiting the local sights and getting a feel for the new culture. We saw a number of churches, including the Basilica del Voto Nacional (a gothic church with gargoyles of turtles, anteaters, iguanas, and other local animals), and the Iglesia Santo Domingo (with twisted paintings of sheep licking up Christs blood, among others). We also made a short trip to the tourist attraction of La Mitad del Mundo, to pass an hour or so hopping between hemispheres. Five relaxing days in Quito prepared us for more adventure, so we went to Quitos´ incredibly new and spacious bus terminal and made our way towards Latacunga.



Before arriving in Latacunga we stopped at Volcan Cotopaxi, a monstrous volcano topped by an expansive glacier. Transportation there was expensive and difficult, so we camped for a night and continued on. After one night in the state capitol of Latacunga we took a detour up to Laguna Quilotoa, an emerald green laguna up in a remote section of the Andes. We hiked a good distance around the lagoon and laughed at the llamas before coming back to Latacunga for the Feria de la Mama Negra, an indigenous festival masked as an homage to the catholic Virgen Mercedes. The festival was unlike any I had ever seen, and the whole thing took place as a long parade that lasted 8 hours (two rotations of 4 hours). It could be divided into
about 50 smaller units, each one starting with a group of costumed dancers, then a band, and followed up by the towns strongest man carrying a wooden backpack with an entire roast pig, about 12 roast chickens, 10 roast guinea pigs, and maybe 15 bottles of liquor tied on. The whole contraption was so big he had to be followed by two guys with a table, and when he needed rest they would set the table down and he could sit the backpack down on it for a minute, then lumber forward and start again. In addition to the pig backpack, there was also a shaman within each unit. He would select random members from the crowd, including myself, twice, and rub herbs in their face, then spit alcohol all over them in a sort of smelly baptism. All along the parade were people handing out free shots of local homemade alcohol, and we did not hesitate to partake. Unfortunately I may have indulged a bit much, and the evening ended a bit sour as someone snatched my camera during my drunken arm in arm dance through a tower of fireworks. How could I have known...?

Continuing along the trail we stopped in the tourist center of Baños for some rafting and late night partying. We floated down the Pastaza river with about 170 other people in a tribute to a local guide that had recently lost his life to the same river. That night we barbecued trout with the local raft guides we had met, and then danced until our legs hurt. A couple of drunken nights and hangover filled days in Baños and we were ready to slow things down with a little volunteer work in nearby Puyo.

Puyo is a town on the edge of the Ecuadorian Amazon, and for the last week we have been shacked up with about 70 primates at the Paseo de los Monos monkey reserve. It is a refuge and rehabilitation center for monkeys, coatis, and birds, and along with 4 other volunteers and a couple of full time employees we have been taking care of the mischievious little creatures. Taking care of monkeys consists of cutting up fruit, getting your hair pulled, cleaning up dishes, getting your ankles bitten, making new informational brochures, and yanking dueling monkeys off your head.
Despite the numerous bruises and teeth marks, it has been a blast. There are seven species of monkeys at the reserve, and the vast majority run free in the forest, coming to the house to eat and play. If you are near the house, no more than 5 minutes will pass before some monkey comes up and tries to climb on you or swing from your arms. Two days ago was an especially eventful day at the reserve. It began with news that Ecuadors president, Rafeal Correa, had recently been taken out of power by a military coup upset about salary changes. This also implied that there was no active police force in all of Ecuador, and rioting had already begun in the capitol and the largest city, Guayaquil. While processing the implications of this information, it started to rain outside and I noticed the trees were blowing a bit more than normal outside. Soon there came a gust of wind that lasted all of 30 to 40 seconds (literally), but knocked down 5 trees on the property, including one that hit the back of the house and crushed the cage that housed the most dangerous animal on the reserve (a very ornery amazonian Coati with nasty incisors). Before we had even assessed the damage we were out by the cage, trying to keep the angry animal inside the cage with a stick while we repaired the torn open area with wire mesh. Despite the disasters at the reserve and the turmoil with the president, by the end of the next day the animal was safe at home, and the Coati was back in his cage as well.

Today we decide our next move. We would like to go up into the Peruvian Amazon to the city of Iquitos, but since we are not using airplanes, and there are no roads to Iquitos, this would mean a 6 day boat trip to arrive, and then 5 days to return. While the next move is unsure, at least we can look forward to a little piece and quiet from our biting, fighting, tree-dwelling neighbors.

El Vaiven del Viaje

Continuing along the carribean coast we landed in Santa Marta, a popular vacation spot for locals, but for reasons I don't understand. The main beach is also a shipping port with Panamax ships cruising in all the time, and the waterfront, while pleasant at times, can quickly turn into a boxing arena as locals scrap over women, drugs, or chicle. After a few days there we realized that neighboring Taganga is a much more pleasant place to stay, and we checked into the Oso Perezoso, a laid back hotel with rooftop hammocks and excellent fruit crepe breakfasts. Our main goal in this part of the coast was to go to Tayrona National Park to camp and play in the waves, so after a couple nights in Taganga we hopped on the bus, then another bus, then hitchhiked, and then began the hike into the park. The hike in goes through some nice dense jungle and we spotted a sloth hanging out along the way. We quickly became friends with the couple we had hitchhiked with and it was nice to meet some Colombians that weren't pushing hot dogs on us or trying to exchange our money. Arriving at the beach we found that we had to pay $15 a night to camp, even though we had brought out own tent, and the only restaurant around charged $9 for a simple meal. Luckily we had prepared for the high food prices, and my bag was stuffed with food, including an entire roast chicken, the smell of which peaked my appetite to the point of insanity along the hike. We spent two nights at the park, playing in the waves, building sand castle crabs, and even getting tan in unlikely spots on the nude beach.

While Tayrona had some very beautiful aspects, we left the coast feeling a bit discouraged. The prices were high, the people were generally rude, haggling was required everywhere, and the beaches were even a little below our jaded standards (Viviana just coming from Puerto Rico, and me just coming from San Blas). We had begun to get a little nervous that Colombia would not live up to the rave reviews we had been hearing for years.



Fortunately the interior of the country gave us a completely different experience. Our first stop was the mountain town of San Gil, a center of outdoor adventure for tourists, and a beautiful small town filled with friendly locals. From there we spent a day exploring the smaller picturesque towns of Barichara and Guane, full of colonial buildings with whitewashed adobe architecture. The next day we did a 60 meter repel down the bottom third of a 180 meter waterfall. We were thoroughly enjoying the town, but decided to leave to pursue our dream of backpacking in El Cocuy National Park, a reserve full of snowcapped peaks, lagoons and rivers, all located well off the tourist track. We left our unnecessary equipment at the hostel in San Gil and headed out by bus along the crazy winding roads along the Chicamocha gorge. After 4 hours of the twisting roads we both felt sick and decided to recover at a hotel in Tunja before finishing the last 10 hour leg to the park. Unfortunately, when we awoke and went to buy tickets we were informed that a landslide had closed the road, and were left with no option but to return to San Gil along the gut wrenching road.

After recovering our equipment, a third trip back down the same road brought us into Bogota. Remembering the squalor and insecurity of the Central American capitals I had visited, my expectations for Bogota were pretty low. We checked into our hostal and set out to see the city. I soon realized that Bogota is full of culture, activity, and nightlife. We visited a number of museums the first day, including the Museo del Oro (gold museum), Museo de la Policia (police museum with Pablo Escobars jacket and blood stain), and the Botero Museum (popular Colombian artist who drew pictures of fat little cartoon people). Most of them had free entrance as well, which appealed to my penny-pinching side. At night we prowled the streets of the La Candelaria district, chatting with locals, drinking Aguila beer, and taking in the aroma of the ganja plant that seems to fill the streets all over Colombia. The next day we hopped a bus over to the salt cathedral, a gigantic church built into an active salt mine. The cathedral has 14 small chambers with the stations of the cross, as well as 2 much larger chambers for masses and events, and occupies an area of 8000 sq meters (~72000 sq ft.) all located 200 meters (~1800 ft) underground (it could be argued that the church brings you closer to the scorching inferno than the pearly gates). The crosses, statues, pilars, and nearly everything in the cathedral is carved out of the salt stone itself, making for an unusual ambience. The last day in Bogota we took part in the cyclovia, a public event held every Sunday where they close down the main thoroughfares in the city to car traffic and open it up to bikes, skateboards, rollerblades, and pedestrians. We rented some bikes and cruised down the busy streets, buying up fresh mango, shishkabobs, and other street food along the way. The closed down streets are lined with activities as well, such as public aerobics classes, concerts, and markets. We made our way to the giant Simon Bolivar park and then back to the hotel, for a total of about 120 blocks. The next day we said our farewells to the city and grabbed the overnight bus to Medellin to meet up with some friends.

In Tucson both Viviana and I had an unusual number of Colombian friends, and almost all of the ones that have returned home now live in Medellin. We spent the last week staying at our friend Jorge's house, exploring the city by day and crawling the streets for rumba by night. Medellin is full of metrocables, ski-lift like public transportation that takes you up the steep hills of the valleys, and e took one of these up to the giant parque Arvi. Our next couple days were spent checking out the downtown area, including museums and city parks (such as the Parque de Los Pies Descalzos, where everyone has to go around barefoot). At night we went saw live salsa music in the club and live jazz in the street. We went to the zona rosa and tasted the citys huge array of fruit infused rum and exotic mojitos. On the weekend we cruised the windy, landslide prone roads up to some small pueblos in the mountains and swam in rivers, marvelled at the colorfully painted balconies, and listened to charming tales of horrifying machete assaults that the local children told us. An unfortunate pothole on the way back sent the car battery up into the hood, short circuiting the alarm and causing a minor 1 and a half hour delay while we solved the issue, as well as some minor ear damage from the endless siren. Despite the horror stories, it was very interesting to me that out of all the major cities I've visited so far, I felt safer walking the streets at night in Medellin than anywhere else. While poverty is still rampant in Colombia, it has made some amazing developments recently and in my experience looks to be a lot further along than almost any country I visited in Central America (with the possible exception of Costa Rica).

After bidding farewell to our gracious host we hopped onto another bus for the twisting road to Salento, a small mountain town in the 'Zona Cafetera' (coffee zone). From here we plan to get back to nature with some hiking, fishing, and hopefully horseback riding. Then its off to Ecuador for mountains and volunteer work.

Gran Colombia

My first stop in Panama was the city of David, where I caught a bus up to Cerro Punto to do a 2 day hike through the highlands to Boquete. The trail offered some great views and a fair amount of bird watching with only a few washed out sections. I strung up my hammock in a small clearing on top of a hill and settled in for the night. It looked as though thunderstorms were coming in from all sides, but my good luck continued and after 30 minutes it was clear skies, a full moon, and the sound of howler monkeys in the distance. The downside of the trip was that it got very cold during the night in the uninsulated hammock, and I also made friends with a number of tics, one of which was embedded in my foot. The hike ended in the popular tourist town of Boquete, which really didnt impress me much and seemed to be more of a gringo retirement village than a backpacker hotspot, so I cruised down to nexus of the Americas, Panama City.

The Panama City skyline quickly put to shame that of any other Central American city. Upon arrival I headed straight down to the unusual Casco Viejo district, a wild contrast of dilapidated colonial structures and rejuvenated government buildings. In the daytime you can just walk around enjoying the scenery and eating 75 cent hot dogs, but at night the criminal element pours in from the neighboring ghetto making the streets very dangerous and all blonde people targets. Luckily someone realized this and built the Luna´s Castle hostal, a giant colonial mansion packed with rooms and endless partying. The first night I took the party bus around town, a retired US school bus with the seats taken out and replaced by a dance floor, a bar, a DJ, and some poles to hang on to (or show your skills on). I made a few attempts to leave the city for nearby attractions, but was thwarted at the beach by high prices, and shut down in the jungle by crazy rainstorms (which put a foot of water in my hostel that night). My primary goal in Panama City was to arrange a boat trip to Cartagena, and after a few days I had it all ready with Luke and Sarah.



Luke is the captain of the sailboat Nepenthe, which means anti-depressant in some language I can´t remember. Anyway, the 41ft sailboat is aptly named and the 5 day sailing trip removed every remnant of Panama City stress I had. The first 3 days were spent sailing through the remote San Blas archipelago, a string of tiny picturesque islands often with only one village, one house, or one palm tree on them. We snorkelled a shipwreck, barbecued on an uninhabited island, and fished. I got a little innovative with the fishing on this trip, catching jack (the fish, not the colloquialism) on the hand line and even catching a fish while in the act of snorkelling (sort of an underwater pet on a leash). We hooked into a few big ones, including a 9ft nurse shark, but weren´t able to get the monsters into the boat. After playtime was over we set sail, but there was no wind so we took the sails down and used the engine to power us over to Cartagena, a 36 hour voyage.



After the dighy dropped me off I realized I had finally reached the South American continent. I checked into the hostel and went out to explore the walled city in the heart of the larger metropolis. Cartagena is full of balcony-lined historic buildings, salsa music, and expensive beer. My anxiety of seeing my long lost girlfriend was growing quite a bit at this point so I didn´t do too much the first few days.

On Wednesday I picked Viviana up at the airport and set off to show her my honed traveling know-how on an excursion to a volcano filled with mud you can bathe in. We took the city bus down to the terminal and hopped on the connecting bus for the hour and a half journey to the volcano. Three hours later I was starting to think I may have made a mistake. We got off at the completely uninteresting town of Barranquilla, ate some chicken and started back for Cartagena. On the way back the bus pulled up to a line of traffic 15 minutes out of the Cartagena that looked fairly normal, until we saw cops running by with their guns drawn. The bus made a speedy 10 point turn on the narrow road and went to a nearby gas station so the driver and passangers could yell at eachother for a half an hour. We slowly found out that there was a riot because the town had been without electricity for a month, and some teenagers began lighting things on fire and throwing rocks at the cops in the middle of the street. Luckily it was cleared up after another hour and we eventually made it home.

Two days after my humbling experience, we headed out to Santa Marta, a beach town where the locals come to party on the weekends. From here we plan to take care of some last minute travel arrangements and do some camping and swimming in the Parque Tayrona. With Central America under my belt and South America under my feet I feel ready for whatever comes next...

Nicas and Ticos

So where was I... After a short stay visiting churches and drinking beer in Granada I caught the chicken bus on up to León to catch up on my history. León was a major participant in the Sandinista movement and I spent a good deal of time there learning about the intriguing and controversial past of the FSLN party, including partaking in a ceremonial march to the barracks once held by Somoza. I'll spare you the history lesson, but it makes for some excellent reading, full of CIA conspiracies, illegal weapons trade, and passionate revolution. I also took some time to learn Nicaraguan billiards and see some bubbling pits of mud.


After León I shot down to the island of Ometepe in Lake Nicaragua. Ometepe is formed from two volcanic peaks whose lava flows have created a land bridge between them, and truly resembles something out of a fairy tale. One peak is very active with smoke often pouring out of the crater, while the other is covered in lush jungle with a swimmable lagoon at the top. After a short night of partying with some out of control Tazmanians I did a little makeshift camping around the coast, climbed to the lagoon, and spent some time on the beach watching futbol and relaxing. To save money and increase the excitement I have been avoiding guides on my travels and doing as many adventures on my own as possible, and Ometepe was perfect for the independent explorer. The island offered some excellent wildlife viewing, and was a nice segway into my short visit to Costa Rica.

A 10 hour boat ride across the lake brought me into Costa Rica where I had my first encounter with the criminal element. It seems that the entire country of Costa Rica has been conspiring to empty my bank account with $20 lunches and $8 bottles of water. Luckily I have been able to survive through camping and purifying my own water. However, even the atrocious prices cannot detract from the immense beauty and amazing wildlife of the Osa Peninsula. This peninsula in southwestern Costa Rica has a huge amount of biodiversity, and a few nights in the jungle offers some incredible encounters. I setup my hammock in the Corcovado national park and was immediately greeted by a flock of Scarlet Macaws. Another day on the trail provided 3 species of monkeys, anteaters, eagles, parrots and numerous other flora and fauna.

Now I am heading into Panama to prepare for my journey to Colombia. I am hoping to catch a yacht over to Cartagena, which I have heard is a 4-5 day voyage. This gives me about another 10 days before I should arrive in Panama City and I'm not sure where this time will be spent. But with any luck my next update will be from Colombia, and the soliloquy will become a duet.