Pura Vida!

Uruguay Is Paradise: The Land Where Prehistoric Fish Help Make Beer

2009-05-08T17:42:00.007-05:00

With no idea of what to expect, we stepped onto Uruguayan soil. Our mission was the so-called "expat shuffle," a short jaunt out of Argentina to renew our 3 month visas. We crossed the murky and uninviting Tigre River on the surprisingly opulent Eladia Isabel Ferry, complete with a blond singer in a black dress performing her rendition of Elvis Presley's "Only You" and other "international classics" as on-board entertainment – at 11:30 in the morning.

We landed in Colonia, where a strange sensation immediately took hold of us. As our lungs began to open up, we realized that it was the air... It was clean. After so much time absorbing the smog and bus exhaust in Buenos Aires we had grown unaccustomed to the normal mix of nitrogen, oxygen, and carbon dioxide.

Tall trees line the wide streets of Colonia and an autumnal scent wafted through the air. After a warm welcome at our hostel, we set off to explore the town. We wandered among fallen leaves and through cobblestone streets, enjoying the warm sun and cool breezes coming off the water. Absolute tranquility.

(These care have exclusive restaurant seating inside)

Colonia is touristy but not overwhelmingly so. Small artisan shops sell crafts from all over the country. In one we found a little magnetic puzzle showing an upside-down South America. It's arbitrary to decide that the North is the top of the world and I've always loved the idea of turning that on its head. The old town is filled with colorful colonial buildings and the stone ruins of old Portuguese outposts. Relaxed restaurants feature live Bossanova music and serve Uruguayan classics like matambre- steak cooked in milk - and chivitos - delicious steak sandwiches garnished with egg, ham, bacon, peppers, lettuce, tomato, olives, and cheese.

We continued to enjoy chivitos and Uruguayan wine over the next few days in Montevideo. The mellow "little sibling of Buenos Aires" marks the spot where the Tigre River loses its murky color and enters the Atlantic. It's surrounded by deep blue water and the walls are lined with fishermen enjoying the sun and drinking large cups of mate, the tea that comprises half the Uruguayan diet (the other half is beef). The plazas are green and filled with people, trees line the avenues, and there's a uniquely relaxed vibe that pervades the city.

It's the perfect place to sit outside on a sunny afternoon having a few beers and watching sailboats and windsurfers navigate the waters. We even watched a rock-and-roll cover band in the pub below our hotel, where we met an old hippie who had been living outside the city for 30 years. As he guzzled a few Bud bottles he explained that he somehow supported himself by selling marine fossils to beer companies, but he took off before we could clarify whatever the hell that meant.

10 Idiosyncrasies of life in Buenos Aires:

2009-04-23T20:01:00.000-05:00

1) Language - Castellano. Literally meaning Spanish like in Spain, but really a completely unique dialect. New words, conjugations, and all. Matched with hand movements and an accent not understood by anyone outside Argentina.

2) Meat - Imagine a grill the size of a twin bed, every inch covering in sizzling steaks and sausage. Delicious.

3) Coins - Nobody's got them, everyone wants them. Actually, since you need to pay with change every time you take a bus (the main mode of transport), the bus companies hoard the change. Seriously, the police busted a bus company owned van the other week with millions of pesos stockpiled (literally). Apparently they sell the coins to the Chinese supermarkets for a profit of 10-15 pesos on every hundred. Shops often try to give candy as change instead of parting with valuable coinage.

4) Argentine Advertising - It's all about paper flyers. They'll drop them through mail slots, over fences, shove them into your hands on the street, or simply stick them up anywhere possible. To the end result that you never look at the words on a piece of paper ever again.

5) Mullets - everywhere. Why?

6) Telos - Love Hotels in English. Argies young and old opt for 1-2 hour hotel room stays, complete with ancient Egypt or comic themed rooms, jacuzzis, erotic vending machines and more. It's too expensive to move out of Mom and Dad's place so if you want to get laid, this is your option. Also used by stereotypical executives and secretaries.

7) Futbol - You have to love my team. If you root for the rival I'll kill you. They're kidding, sort of... but my roommates from Salta do say this on occasion.

8) Chinese Supermarkets - At least that's what the locals refer to them as, because all Asians are Chinese. Generally staffed by at least a few 20 something year olds whose main job is to look cool, never be seen without a cigarette dangling from the mouth, and have fabulous hair. We saw one guy today slice up a couple of kilos of meat and cheese without ever removing his cigarette. James Dean's got nothing on these guys.

9) Sidewalks - Don't look up at that beautiful 18th century building while walking down the street... Your next step will land on either a) dog shit b) a loose tile that will plunge your foot into sewage water or c) a hole that will cut a gash in your leg requiring stitches, a lifetime scar, and 2 tetanus shots (Meg Kenny, please stand up)

10) Pride - "Welcome to Buenos Aires, the best city in the world."

Playing with old photos

2009-04-21T13:33:00.005-05:00

"One Summer Afternoon"

... a little movie by Megan

Buenos Aires: The Beginning of the End

2009-04-13T22:24:00.005-05:00

Friends and family, sorry we’ve been out of touch so long. I haven’t kept up with the blog since we arrived in Buenos Aires. It’s an intoxicating city; full of so much life that it both draws you in and at the same time makes you wonder how to fit into it all.

(Recoleta Cemetery)

I’ve found some work in the time that we’ve been here. It’s just writing articles for different companies, more related to advertising than anything. It may not be the most interesting work in the world but it keeps me writing and gives us some spending money while we are here- a necessity!

(Open Air Art Exhibition of Bear Sculptures Representing Countries Throughout the World)

Trying to describe the city itself is almost a frightening task, and I certainly wouldn’t attempt it in one blog post- I want to at least have someone still reading by the time we reach the end! I’m going to make an effort to publish a post every Wednesday from here on out while we are here. It’ll just be a few thoughts on what BA is like, how we are finding our way in the flow of the city.

We are living in the neighborhood of Monserrat. It’s one of the older barrios of the city, on the southern side. The south of the city was the first area to grow and prosper, where all new immigrants arrived. In the 1800’s a Yellow Fever epidemic hit Buenos Aires, at which point in time all the wealthy residents moved to the north of the city to the neighborhoods of Palermo and Recoleta, among others. Most of the city’s wealth is still in the north, an area full of magnificent buildings and green parks. The south is much more urban and still has a much lower income population, but has a vitality that can’t be found anywhere else. Old cobblestone streets intersect with paved roads and grandiose buildings are interspersed with brick apartments. Some of the older constructions have been abandoned and are currently in a decrepit state, with vines climbing through cracked windows and crumbling walls.

(A Tomb in Recoleta)

One example of the madness that we’ve plunged ourselves into. May 25^th is a day of commemoration for the 30,000 Argentines who were “disappeared” by the government during the Dirty War. Intellectuals, dissidents, and students all disappeared from their homes and jobs. Some of their bodies washed up on shore, having been thrown from helicopters. The mothers of the disappeared hold a weekly vigil in the main square of the city to ask for accountability. On May 25^th, what seemed like the entire city turned out in a march that closes down many of the main streets in the city center. Bands of students, families, and political activists all marched through the streets, banging drums and waving flags.

We’ve also done plenty of sightseeing while we’ve been here; both day and nighttime. New York might be called the “city that doesn’t sleep,” but BA deserves the moniker. Any night of the week it’s possible to find a rocking party that goes until sunup, so a nightlife post is in order at some point, listing a few weekly highlights. Some photos of the city itself are also on the way, and there’s a chance that Megan and I will get the opportunity to put something together for a local English language paper.

Hasta pronto amigos.

New Photos!!!

2009-04-06T17:25:00.003-05:00

Just added some photos from Peninsula Valdez...

http://kevinandmeganinsa.blogspot.com/2009/03/yes-we-wanted-to-see-baby-sea-lions-get.html

Photo update

2009-03-22T15:47:00.003-05:00

Penguino photos are now up!

http://kevinandmeganinsa.blogspot.com/2009/03/penguins-everywhere.html

New photos!

2009-03-19T12:41:00.001-05:00

Hey guys, wanted to direct you to some Patagonia photos we recently added.

http://kevinandmeganinsa.blogspot.com/2009/03/treading-on-thick-ice.html

Enjoy!!!

Welcome to BA

2009-03-16T21:00:00.000-05:00

As the bus started to roll into Buenos Aires I got that feeling in my stomach which means something good is coming. Excitement, curiousity, and a tiny bit of apprehension all rolled into one. Everyone I've talked to about this city is so excited about it. I have this hope that it can live up to the hype.

I started to pester Megan right away: Do you recognize where we are? Is that near where you lived? How long do you think it'll take us to find an apartment? A job? I know the best thing is just to sit back, relax, take it all in, but there's a lot of excitement at the same time.

A couple of days in it feels like I'm just starting to scratch the surface of life here, and I know it will take much longer to even begin to understand it all. We've wandered into amazing bookstores and film shops, full of that food for the mind. Down the street there's a bar serving craft beer- it does exist in Latin America! Our first night in town we hit a house party in a former hostel, with a couple of DJ's and a mostly extranjero crowd but a few Argies mixed in as well. We've started to work through the Guia T, the bus guide which theoretically can get you anywhere in the city anytime of day or night.

And so it begins.

PS: Mac is up and running again, so we're going to start catching up and adding photos to our past posts, starting with Bariloche (http://kevinandmeganinsa.blogspot.com/2009/02/bad-news-in-beautiful-world.html) and El Bolson (http://kevinandmeganinsa.blogspot.com/2009/02/hey-wanna-trek-through-patagonian-andes.html)

Pengins, Doing What They Do

2009-03-11T12:33:00.002-05:00

Yes, We Wanted To See Baby Sea Lions Get Eaten

2009-03-09T05:15:00.007-05:00

Since we survived the car rental in Punta Tombo, we decided on the same plan to explore Peninsula Valdes, this time with guest drivers from Switzerland and Spain.

The peninsula is a national park filled with Sea Lions, Elephant Seals, Whales (in season), Guanacos; and with luck, Orcas can be seen. March is prime time for spotting the Killer Whales, because the recently born Sea Lion pups are learning to swim. They waddle and hop around, occasionally making their way into the surf... every so often, an Orca will propel itself up onto the beach to devour an easy lunch.

High tide is feeding time so we hung around the Elephant Seals as we waited for the water to rise. The massive balls of blubber are a boring lot, although very entertaining when they rouse themselves to jiggle their bodies across the sand. I can't imagine how long the Nat Geo crews must have to wait to actually catch Elephant Seal "action shots."

Next we settled in by the much more active Sea Lion colony. Adults wrestle over a good spot to lay out and occasionally let loose a roar; little pups roll around, hop after seagulls, and splash in the water's edge. They're such cute creatures, but there we sat hoping to see an Orca make lunchmeat out of them.

Unfortunately (depending on your perspective), the Killer Whales stayed away for the day. Nature sided with the Sea Lions.

Survival is cool too.

Penguins Everywhere!!!

2009-03-09T04:36:00.009-05:00

First we caught a whiff of an odd smell. Next the wind carried a few distressed honks our way. Before long there was a little black and white body curiously peering around every bush. 1.1 million Magellanic Penguins live the good life at Punta Tombo. They land there to nest, mate, have little penguinos, eat, and lay around. When winter arrives they swim 6000 km north to sun themselves on the Brazilian coast.

When the penguins do decide to get up and waddle about, we were informed that they get "right-of-way" in the reserve- it's their turf. So if a group of tourists is walking along and a penguin waddles out in front it creates a hilarious little traffic jam. Despite their small size, the penguins can be territorial as well; we saw one chase a nosy Guanaco away from its nest!

Punta Tombo is 120 km south of Trelew, a Welsh town on the Patagonian coast founded in the late 1800's. We stopped solely to make the trip to the Penguin colony (renting a car is the best way to learn to drive stick!), but found more there than we expected.

Our first evening in Trelew we saw a few streets blocked off. Our first thought was "no big deal, parade or protest, life in Latin America." Out of curiousity we asked what was going on... last night of Carneval!? We'd hoped to celebrate Carneval in the previous weeks but had given up hope, thinking that Lent marked the end of the fiesta...

We ran back to our hostel to grab a bottle of rum and our Japanese roommate, Kazu. As soon as we explained to him that we'd discovered a fiesta he jumped out of his chair, threw his fists in the air, and shouted "LET'S GOOOOO!!!!!"

Riding the wave of Kazu's enthusiasm, we spent the night enjoying live music, dancing, and costumes we never thought we'd see outside of Brazil.

Before leaving Trelew I also decided to pay homage to my childhood love of dinosaurs and check out the Paleontology museum. Patagonia is a treasure trove of mid-Jurassic fossils, which show the effect of climactic changes on dinosaur evolution... The woman at the front used the tattoo on my arm to explain how the breakup of Pangea enacted these changes.

It's a lucky stop when you find penguins, Carneval, and dinosaurs!

Treading on Thick Ice

2009-03-03T17:08:00.006-05:00

Argentine Patagonia: Pristine lake country in the north; breathtaking mountains keeping those irksome Chilean neighbors away; and an Atlantic coast teeming with Penguins, Orcas, Sea Lions, Elephant Seals, and whales. Amazing, no?

There's one important detail left out... That is, there are thousands of kilometers of frigid, windblown, and arid flatlands, stretching further than the eye can see in every direction between the mountains and the coast. It's no surprise that the only settlers here were Welsh sheep ranchers, creating their own isolated world in a place where not many could flourish.

We crossed this intimidating hinterland on the journey south from El Bolson to El Calafate, a 24 hour bus ride that became 30 hours after three bus breakdowns... Luckily we were on the coastal road passing near populated areas instead of on the one route that passes through the lonely interior where a breakdown would be frightening.

El Calafate is the gateway town to Argentina's Glacier National Park. Like any town that sprouts due to a tourist influx, it has the feel of a net hastily patched together to catch any passing cash. Luckily the town's lack of charm was more than compensated for by both the friendly crew that ran our hostel and the brilliant park itself.

We paid for a tour that would not only take us to the park but allow to do a bit of trekking on the Perito Moreno Glacier. Of the 13 Glaciers within the park, all are receding except Perito Moreno and one more. On arrival we spent an hour and a half wandering around between various lookout points, marveling at the jagged blue ice and hoping to shoot a photo as the glacier calved. Megan struck gold and caught the crash of an iceberg as tall as a 20 story building as it toppled into the water. Photos of everything will be posted as soon as we resolve our computer difficulties.

The glacier trek was a bit touristy for us, but there were still three high points: 1) Setting foot on that massive frozen river itself, slowly creeping 30 kilometers from the Andes to Lago Argentina. 2) Crampons. I've always wanted to try walking up a wall of ice and wasn't dissappointed. I would have tried to stash mine in my bag but I think that would qualify as one of those souveneirs that have absolutely no practical use. 3) At the end of our trip, we were offered a Famous Grouse Whisky served over glacier ice, carved out with an icepick. Awesome.

We decided to pass on Tierra del Fuego for now, unconvinced that the trip was worth it for anything other than to say "I've been to Tierra del Fuego." I'm sure the scenery is amazing, but we were eager to get out of the cold so we hopped on the bus across the tundra and back up the coast towards an old Welsh town and the largest colony of Magellanic Penguins in South America.

Hey, wanna trek through the Patagonian Andes?

2009-02-21T11:27:00.006-05:00

After our first shower in three days, we limped over to one of El Bolson's parillas- our first Argentine restaurant. We felt we deserved it after our longest trek of the trip, 3 days and 48 km in the Patagonian Andes.

We had left El Bolson a few days before in the early afternoon (although it's still morning in 'Argentina time' until 2 pm). After a 4 km stroll along the sparkling Rio Azul, we began a 14 km ascent into the mountains. The first hour of a trek is always the hardest for us... Are we prepared for this? Fit enough?

Luckily, we were soon enveloped by the magic of the mountains. There is a unique energy up there that is impossible to capture in words. We breathed the smells of the forest, layers of life surrounding us. Patagonia is far enough south that its environment is reminiscent of Canada, but with unique flora and fauna. We picked blackberries and refreshed our water supply from streams filled by glacier snowmelt. Before sunset we arrived at the Hielo Azul refuge, emerging from the forest to see a few cabins nestled below a forboding, glacier-topped peak.

The mountain refuges are maintained by families, members of an alternative lifestyle movement that flocked to El Bolson in the 1970's to create an ideal community. They provide places to sleep for trekkers along with home baked bread and home brewed beer- basic necessities.

Early the next morning we set off in an attempt to reach the glacier, energized by our surroundings. Unfortunately, after an hour of scrambling over the rocky mountainside, we were turned back by rain and ominous clouds. We'd been told that part of the climb involved scrambling along a sheer cliff, impossible in bad weather. We returned and warmed up at the refuge with fresh coffee to prepare for the day.

(We had to turn back once that mist up there started to descend on us.)

A steep trip uphill brought us to Lago Natación, the highest point in our expedition. We absorbed the view before beginning our descent to the Rio Azul. We know better, yet we always assume climbing down will be easier than heading uphill... After three hours of steep descent, our legs burned more than they had anytime the previous day.

We had another night of playing cards in a refuge and braving the cold to stare at the stars. The next morning we made our way out of the park, sad to leave that mystical world behind.

Luckily, El Bolson is an easy transition from the mountains. We recovered with Argentine essentials, steak and wine; then we spent the next day enjoying the vibes and music from the artisan fair. What could be better than a hippie town in Patagonia?

Bad News in a Beautiful World

2009-02-17T17:53:00.003-05:00

Friends, it seems that our Mac laptop is sick again... We'll get it checked out in Buenos Aires, but perhaps it's on the way out. Disappointing as that is, we've hit this rough patch before and managed to survive; so we will keep on moving.

(March 17 update: Mac up and running again, so we now can post our photos... woohoo!)

The Argentine Lake District in Northern Patagonia is a stunning place where the Andes meet deep blue lakes carved out by glaciers, the surroundings covered in beautiful evergreen forests. We spent a few days loving life in beautiful but touristy Bariloche with our friends Meg and Jackie, checking out the Nahuel Huapi national park. We took a tour boat to the isolated Isla Victoria. At first we were concerned by the massive numbers of (old) fellow tourists on the boat; worries abated when we were turned loose on the island to explore it's pristine environment.

(When our boat made its first stop we were terrified that that pristine natural experience would be spoiled by too many people crowded onto small walkways. Luckily it was just a small portion of the day, the rest of the time we were free to wander through the forests on our own)

There were no parting tears, but we were sad to send Meg and Jackie to Buenos Aires while we hit the road South to El Bolson, where we are now. The beautiful mountain scenery helped get us on the move again... And after sampling the artesanal beers today at the local hippie/craft market, we are reinvigorated and ready to head off to the mountains for a few days of trekking the Patagonian Andes.

Welcome to the Good Life

2009-02-15T16:54:00.005-05:00

"Argentina is sooooo incredible! The people are so nice, the food and wine are so good, Patagonia is amazing, Buenos Aires is an unbelievable city..." And on, and on...

Everyone who has been to Argentina sounds like a broken record. How could it live up to the hype? Yet somehow, I find myself sounding more and more like that same annoying record...

(Industrial size wine vat)

The word is out on Argentina- prices have shot up even since Megan was last here. It's summer high season now, which makes things even more expensive; but on the upside it's allowed us to meet plenty of Argentine travelers and hostel workers. In the months since we left Colombia we've often felt that we are just a dollar sign, or even an annoyance. Now we have 10 minute conversations with the barista who pours us a café cortado. Hostel workers have welcomed us with wine and invitations to check out the nightlife. Overwhelming hospitality, combined with a healthy appreciation of the good things in life. It's seductive.

We sped through a lot of Northern Argentina so that we could arrive in Mendoza to meet a couple of D.C./Clyde's friends, Jackie and Meghan. After staying in Salta for a few days (eating our weight in empanadas!), we quickly moved on to Cafayate. It's a small city wedged between the desert and the Andes, famous for the Torrontes wine uniquely produced in the region. The Torrontes grape produces a refreshing white wine with a fruity boquet yet a crisp taste. Delicious, and many vineyards offer free tastings. We particularly enjoyed the Elementos by El Esteco.

Next stop was Mendoza, to meet Jackie and Meghan. It's a clean tranquil city with wide sidewalks, huge parks, and more incredibly hospitable locals. There's also an aqueduct system which I find particularly cool; it existed long before the Spaniards arrived and transforms the region from desert into wine country. An incredible place to meet up with a few friends.

We bussed to the outskirts of the city and rented bikes to tour the wineries from a guy named "Mr. Hugo..." We sampled a few amazing Malbecs and visted an olive oil factory as well as a chocolate and liquor factory before making our way back. The wine, hot sun, and biking wiped us out; but when Mr. Hugo offered to break out a few bottles of wine before we made our way back into the city, we couldn't refuse.

(Old olive oil presses... who would have guessed?)

Argentina makes us happy.

Walking on a Salt World in the Desert

2009-02-09T18:28:00.004-05:00

Bone dry, blistering heat, freezing nights... Sound good? Definitely fascinating, so we made San Pedro de Atacama our last stop in Chile. High in the Atacama Desert, it's also the spot from which buses leave to cross the wastelands and make their way into Argentina.

We kicked off our expedition with a mountain biking trip through the Valle de La Muerte, the Valley of Death. Not only did we escape with our lives, we got to check out some amazing terrain, pumping our legs to push through the sandy patches and stopping anytime we found a good shady spot. A few mindblowing hours was enough to wipe us out completely, convincing us to consider a tour that wouldn't require biking for hours in that heat for the next day.

The Atacama salt flats are the third largest in the world- Bolivia and Utah are still battling it out for bragging rights to the largest salt flat. Far from Utah and unwilling to pay for the Bolivian visa, we decided to content ourselves with the Chilean version. Amazing. We started our tour with a dip in a salt lake. Having swam in the Dead Sea before, Megan skipping covering her body in salt. I had to give it a shot though, and it's amazing to be in water so salty that it's close to impossible to submerge yourself. This is what I looked like when the water dried.

We spotted a few flamingos nearby, apparently unconcerned with their sodium intake.

I got to rinse off by jumping into a mysterious fresh(er) water pool in the desert. They think it might have been created by a meteor strike.

We next made our way onto a salt field, something we were both so curious to see. It looks like the ground is covered in snow and ice, which put a nagging feeling that I shouldn't be wearing board shorts and flip-flops in the back of my head...

Walking across the salt feels like walking through snow that has partially melted and then refrozen overnight. Parts are hard as ice, a lot of the ground is crunchy, and there are pools of water scattered throughout.

This is why Megan is worried about my sodium intake and future heart trouble:

Playing with Light in a Hidden World

2009-02-02T21:01:00.008-05:00

Here’s a trip down memory lane for us… a few photos from our visit to the Monastery of Santa Catalina in Arequipa. The monastery is a neighborhood contained within one city block, an amazing world of color, light, and shadow. Arequipa itself is a beautiful city, built out of sillar white stone bricks, definitely one of out favorite places in Peru. Excellent food and fun bars surround the city center and the horizon is punctuated by snow-capped volcanoes. We saw the mummified body of an Inca girl, sacrificed atop one of those peaks. The Inca thought that these sacrifices might appease the gods that controlled the volcanoes and earthquakes. The Inca Empire ended, the Spanish came and went, but eruptions and earthquakes continue to shake the region. Arequipa was our last stop in Peru, a tough place to leave.

(Megan decided to impersonate one of the nuns that used to live in these quarters. Since the 2nd child of wealthy families went into religious life back in the 16th and 17th century, they used to keep up their same luxurious lifestyles and social life, just behind the monastery walls.)

Screw the beaten path, let's go to the beach!

2009-02-02T20:48:00.003-05:00

We could have followed the hordes of fellow English-speakers on the “gringo trail” from Peru into the cold Bolivian highlands before heading to Argentina (Argie land, as Megan calls it). But in order to avoid the $130 visa to enter Bolivia, we diverged into the sunny and oven-hot Chilean coast and desert.

Travelers avoid Chile because its too expensive, a true assessment in some ways. Beer and wine are still cheap, but lodging and transportation blew our normal budget. When the fuzzy math is done at the end of the day though, we probably didn’t spend any more than we would have if we had bought the visa to Bolivia, and we got to see some amazing places that many travelers miss.

We entered Chile in Arica, the only hassle free border town we’ve ever come across. No money changers offering counterfeit bills, no bus station thieves, and even the taxi drivers don’t try and rip you off too badly (and if they do, they do it in style). We spent one night there before heading south to Iquique. It was an amazing trip through the Atacama Desert, a place so hot and dry that naturally mummified bodies have been discovered there. We wound our way over and around massive sand dunes and crossed massive gorges with oases in their depths. We descended an enormous wall of sand to bring us down to the coastal city of Iquique. We immediately went to go pick up our new Mac cord, grabbed a couple beers, and settled in to hit the beach for a few days.

The water was cold but the weather was perfect, hot and dry. Best of all though were the people we encountered. Incredibly friendly, open, welcoming people… It’s true that Chileans like to string their sentences together as if they were all one long syllable, but language difficulties aside, we managed to get along with everyone. The local style seems alternative- lots of surfers, tattoos, and piercings; and the overall ambience of the city was incredibly mellow. The streets start stirring around 10 am and are still buzzing after midnight- perfect for Megan and I. A good verdict for a few days off the gringo trail.

Cusco, The Navel of the World

2009-01-26T22:01:00.004-05:00

We wanted to post a few photos from our time in Cusco (Qosqo in Quechua), former capital of the Inca Empire, the longest continually inhabited city in South America, and known to the Inca as the navel of the world. I'm tempted to make a bad joke about traditional weavings and belly button lint, but I'll refrain... The dedication required to complete the weavings is impressive, we were lucky to see a demonstration on our visit to the Inca Museum.

Local foods can always be an interesting experience... I'd been waiting for my brother Richie to show up so we could sample Cuy, Andean Guinea Pig- Megan didn't want to take that plunge. They throw it straight in the oven and serve it with the head on, teeth and all... It tastes pretty much like we expected, fairly greasy meat with a pretty strong flavor. There isn't too much meat on them in general though, perhaps something we were lucky for. The alpaca kebabs were a lot better. Needless to say, I'm pretty excited to be crossing into Argentina soon, to sample some fantastic steak... A traditional meal that I plan on sampling more than a few times. Cuy, not so much.

Here's the view from the rooftop of our hostel. Quite a walk uphill at 10,000 feet of altitude, but definitely worthwhile.

The Lost City of the Inca

2009-01-26T21:15:00.004-05:00

Now that we have our computer back we’ll be able to post some stories from the past month. One of the most noteworthy/photogenic/inspiring/interesting (pick one) experiences for many travelers in South America is a trip to Machu Picchu. Our trip there coincided with my brother Richie’s visit in early January.

Not much is really known about the lost Incan city. American historian Hiram Bingham “discovered” it in 1911, guided by locals, but it was a place that the Spanish conquistadors never found. No one knows whether the city had been abandoned by the time the Spanish arrived or whether it was perhaps a last stronghold to preserve Incan culture as the empire crumbled. Restoration and research are ongoing.

Megan’s parents visited Macchu Picchu back in the 1970’s. Tourism has exploded since then, bringing changes that raise a lot of questions. Their stay in Aguas Calientes (Machu Picchu pueblo, 8 km below the ruins) required crashing in the one building that had been converted into a guesthouse with pads for travelers to crash on the floor. They were able to make their way up to the Incan city to see its majesty as some of the only visitors there in the early morning, but even then, the tourist train eventually arrived from Cuzco, carrying crowds that wanted to experience this amazing place.

The crowds kept coming over the past few decades, evident by the number of hotels, tourism businesses, and prices that we encountered along the way. We made our way from Cuzco to the beautiful town of Ollantaytambo to catch the train to Aguas Calientes. We wanted to spend a night there and make it up to the site before the morning train from Cuzco arrived. Aguas Calientes, described by Lonely Planet as one of “the most exploitative towns” in Peru, is now full of pricey hotels and restaurants, but lacks places for budget backpackers to crash. Completely unable to find a place to stay anywhere within our budget range, we started to explore the outskirts of town. A woman stopped us before we walked off into nowhere to ask where we were headed.

“We were hoping to find a place to stay the night up this way.”
“There’s nothing there, but my daughter works in a hotel, I’m sure we can rent you some floorspace…”

Saved! Just as we entered the building, the skies opened up in a downpour that would continue through the next morning. We ended up renting the room that the daughter normally lived in herself- there were luckily a couple of beds for us. We tried to arrange ourselves so that the rain wouldn’t drip onto our faces as we tried to sleep. In the middle of the night we discovered that the floor had flooding, soaking some of our clothes for the next day… We fitfully tossed and turned, waiting for morning to come.

Outfitted with ponchos and an umbrella to cover our camera, we made our way up to Machu Picchu in the morning. We arrived at the perfect time, just as the rain and mist was starting to clear to allow us a perfect vista. It’s a magical place full of ancient terraces, walkways, and temples. We climbed the nearby hill of Wayna Picchu (the steep one behind the city) for an incredible perspective on the city and the surrounding hills. Incredibly steep yet lush and green peaks pierce the clouds in all directions, with the occasional snow capped mountain peering over their tops. In the center of it all is this incredible ruined city that somehow we were lucky enough to be walking around. It turned out to be a beautiful day and we spent as long as we could meandering through ancient walkways, even taking a nap on the ancient steps overlooking the mountainside.

Humbled and in awe, we caught the train back to Ollantaytambo to make our way back to Cuzco. It’s hard to find the words to describe how magical a place Machu Picchu is, and yet that magic could perhaps be its downfall. A popular way to arrive to Machu Picchu is via a 4 day hike on the Inca trail, described as one of the most stunning treks possible; yet most stories about the trek revolve around the amount of traffic and crowds on the trail. The site itself can support only 500 visitors per day, a number exceeded daily even during the off season. We experienced firsthand the price hikes that Aguas Calientes is known for and were lucky enough to find a way around them.

So what’s the responsible and fair way to manage tourism to this absolutely incredible place, to ensure its protection?

Under a New Flag

2009-01-23T17:39:00.002-05:00

Hey all,

My apologies for long delays between this post and the last... We took off on a trek for a couple of days through the Colca Canyon, getting both the best workout we've had on our trip and also managing to disconnect ourselves from the internet for a while. From Colca we returned to the beautiful Peruvian city of Arequipa for a few days of rest and recovery. We celebrated the Obama inauguration with a crowd of travelers covering the couches and floor in our hostel's TV room. After another couple of days enjoying the relaxed Arequipan life, we hit the road again last night. Our bus left Arequipa at 10 pm, putting us at the Peruvian Chilean border at 3 am... one major problem: the border didn't open for another 3 hours. What is the point of arriving anywhere at 3 am? Eventually the border opened and our taxi driver literally ran us through all the proceedings, dropping us off on one side of each checkpoint and driving around so we could run back to the cab as soon as we got our necessary passport stamps. "This is the most fun border crossing ever!" was Megan's reaction. We've spent today sleeping off our overnight bus hangover in the Chilean border town of Arica. Tomorrow we head to Iquique to pick up our new Mac power cord, so we should hopefully be able to post up some photos soon.

Off we go again!

2009-01-14T20:19:00.004-05:00

Blindsided by the loss of our Mac powercord, we floundered in Blogger wilderness for a few days. It's amazing how dependent we can be on our electronics, even when supposedly dropping off the face of the earth to wander the globe. And yet... we still have perfect access to the net via internet cafés on every street corner. I marvel at the differences between travel now and in the past, waiting a month for a letter to arrive, knowing that a response would take at least as long . Now I can sit in an internet cafe listening to the new TV on the Radio album and chat away over skype or gchat...

We spent a few days enjoying Cuzco with my brother, were stunned by the exploitative town at the base of Machu Picchu, and marveled at the brilliance of the lost city of the Incas. My brother returned home and Megan and I escaped Cuzco before it drove us absolutely insane. The "Gringo capital of South America" is both a beautiful small city of cobblestone alleyways and a nightmare of trying to avoid the ubiquitous entrepreneurs/street touts trying to make a buck off everyone passing by- no surprise, as just about every traveler in South America passes through Cuzco. The bars even sell t-shirts that say "No Gracias" across the front. I still can't wait to put up our photos from those days though, especially Machu Picchu. I can only imagine what Cuzco, Machu Picchu, and the Sacred Valley were like when Megan's parents spent time there on their own travels. It sounds like it was a totally different world.

We've enjoyed the pristine and relaxed environment of Arequipa for the past few days, a breath of fresh air and time for me to deal with my own bout of stomach troubles. Healthily recuperated by a mix of anti-parasite pills, fresh vegetables, and more soup than I ever want to see again; we are off to Colca Canyon tomorrow. Twice as deep as the Grand Canyon, it's depth is only eclipsed by the nearby Cotahuasi Canyon (apparently that depends on how one measures Canyon depth, however that's done). When we return from a few days of hiking down and back up, I'm sure we'll have gleaned a bit of understanding on the topic...

PS- For any DC residents, an interesting article on local restaurant culture: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/01/14/dining/14wash.html?pagewanted=2&em

Power Cord Disaster!

2009-01-09T13:54:00.004-05:00

Hello all!

We wanted to let any and all readers know that over the next few weeks we are going to have some trouble getting photos up onto our blog... The power cord for our Mac has unfortunately worn through, and is apparently quite a difficult part to replace in South America! We'll still be in touch, but we like to run most photos through the laptop to make sure we post the best we can for you; so we will probably hold off on most (but not necessarily all) photos until we resolve the situation. As soon as we do get the computer back up and running, we have a ton of great Machu Picchu and Cuzco pics to share as well, so it should be exciting!

Peruvian New Years!

2009-01-09T13:09:00.004-05:00

Central Lima is exploding with activity; lights, smells, shouts, and car horns on every corner overwhelm the senses in every way imaginable. Luckily, after taking the overnight bus from Huaraz we skipped the center and made our way to the more relaxed neighborhood of Miraflores. We had rushed to Lima in eager anticipation of my brother Richie’s arrival, currently visiting us on his winter break from Wake Forest.

We spent our first day with Richie exploring Miraflores itself, checking out the modern shops and parks that line the road to the beach. We peered down at the Pacific from the cliffs above, watching surfers below while enjoying a Pisco Sour. That night we checked out a small jazz club in Barranco, the center of Lima’s famous nightlife- we were tipped off by the Limeños who worked in our hostel. We sat in awe at a wooden table in a smoky room, experiencing jazz that would impress New Orleans and enjoying the energy.

The next morning we made our first (and only) venture into central Lima, proudly working out the bus system and making our way to the most chaotic and overwhelming location we have yet come across. There are beautiful buildings and an impressive central plaza but at the end of the afternoon we were more than ready to head back to Miraflores. After a nap we decided to try our luck at one of the many casinos in the area. We’d wanted to give blackjack a shot ever since reading “Bringing Down the House,” and while the house stayed standing, we turned out to have a lucky night at the blackjack and roulette tables.

For New Years itself we moved to an apartment that some friends of ours had managed to rent from some local friends. We tried to start off the afternoon with a paragliding adventure over the beachfront cliffs, but the wind died down just as we were getting set to go. I’m curious as to what would have happened if the wind had died while we were aloft…

We kicked off New Years with an apartment party before moving to Barranco to meet up with some other friends. Midnight was marked with a boom! Christmas Eve already proved that Peruvians love fireworks, but the sheer volume of explosives going off on our rooftop alone made it feel like a war zone. We celebrated till early morning before grabbing our bags for a 6 am flight to Cuzco… We stumbled into the city, a bit disoriented- we had partied all night in one city yet woke up in another!

Sapphire Treasure in the Mountains

2009-01-05T16:54:00.004-05:00

Llanganuco canyon, a few kilometers from Huaraz, is a dramatic entrance to the mountains. Two Caribbean-like blue lakes sit beneath the peaks of Huascaran and Huandoy of the Cordillera Blanca mountain range. Clouds obscured the snow-capped peaks while we trekked around the lakes but we still enjoyed the mountain atmosphere.

(In the aftermath of the 1970 earthquake this chapel was built on one of the boulders brought down on Yungay)

Trekking to Llanganuco from the mountains is possible but due to weather and time constraints we decided to explore the area with a local taxi driver and future tour guide named Oscar. He kept us entertained for the whole trip, explaining the history and culture of surrounding towns and regaling us with tales of other travelers- anyone from Germans searching for Peruvian girls to Discovery channel producers. The trail into the mountains starts from the town of Yungay, which has been rebuilt after being swallowed by a massive earthquake in 1970. Oscar led us on a hike around the lakes, whetting our appetite for future treks.

We left Huaraz without attempting any of the 4 to 10 day expeditions through the mountains that are possible in the area, but at some point in my life I hope to return- preferably in the dry season! As impressed as we were by our brief explorations, a longer trek would allow us to truly experience some of the highest mountains in the world.

Happy New Year!

2009-01-01T22:46:00.002-05:00

Happy New Years to all! It always feels strange when first writing the date of a new year… It often takes me almost a full year to get accustomed to the change. As we mentioned before, we spent Christmas up in the mountains near Huaraz. I just wanted to post a few shots of the stunning peaks of the Cordillera Blanca that surround the city. They’re often shrouded in fog but we managed to capture a few photos at clear moments. I know we are a bit behind in the blog here but I’ll try and catch us up over the next few days…

Photo Contest part 2!

2008-12-26T13:56:00.004-05:00

Hey all! Megan has also submitted a photo to another JPG Mag contest. She would love some support and votes as well. Thanks again!

Photo Contest

2008-12-26T12:39:00.001-05:00

Hey everyone, I just entered this photo in a contest for JPG Magazine. I'd love your support if you'd like to click this link and cast a vote for me. Thanks!

Feliz Navidad!

2008-12-25T23:50:00.000-05:00

Merry Christmas and happy holidays to all! We’ve been celebrating today in the town of Huaraz, up in the Peruvian Andes. We met a few good friends here that we’ve come to know along the road- Fiona, David, and Lisa. We’ve enjoyed some fantastic Christmas cookies baked by Megan and we even managed to find a restaurant that served an excellent curry- not a traditional meal, but delicious nonetheless. We are surrounded here by beautiful mountains and are with good friends but we can’t help but miss family and friends that aren’t with us right now. We love and miss you all and can’t wait until we meet again.

Can You Say Chan Chan?

2008-12-20T19:12:00.012-05:00

Peru is an archeological gold mine, best known as the home of the Incan Empire but also host to many other cultures, some of which existed thousands of years before the Inca. The whole country is scattered with the remains of cities and temples, many of which are still being discovered today.

Before ending our sun worship/stomach bug recovery at the beach and heading for the mountains, we spent a day exploring the ruined city of Chan Chan, the capital of the Chimu society. The Chimu rose to prominence around AD 850 and were eventually defeated by the Incas in AD 1471. The city itself was built circa AD 1300 and covered 28 sq km, the largest pre-Columbian city in the Americas and the largest adobe city in the world. Wind and rain have since destroyed most of the city’s structures while conquistadors and grave robbers have emptied it of gold and ceramics.

Chan Chan was originally divided into 9 major complexes, one of which (the Tschudi complex) has been reconstructed. Even ancient friezes depicting fish, nets, seabirds, and seals have been either restored or recreated. We caught a ride to where the Huanchaco-Trujillo road passes the ancient city and set off across the arid ground towards the complex. After purchasing our admission we were allowed to wander throughout the structure independently along a marked path.

There’s only one spot where the 10m-tall and 4m-thick walls part to allow entrance to the city. The city’s gate first brings visitors to the main ceremonial plaza. Walkways around the plaza lead to various rooms that comprised living quarters, offices, shops. At the far end of the complex is a giant well that provided water for the city, located across from the ceremonial burial ground for priests and leaders. We wandered back through the long dusty corridors and eventually made our way out into the deserted surrounding ruins.

We left the area trying to imagine what it would have looked like if the entire city were still alive and functioning, an adobe metropolis built out of the desert-like ground near the coast. It’s just one of the many spots in Peru where the remains of an ancient civilization exist, graveyards for empires that thrived for hundreds of years before meeting an unforeseen end.

Hi everyone...

2008-12-16T16:52:00.001-05:00

Our entry to Peru landed us in Mancora for a few days. Sun, surf, sand, and partying. Ubiquitous dust makes it not the most beautiful place, although it’s definitely on the itinerary of most travelers. There’s good- albeit crowded- surf, and plenty of options for eating and drinking.

We enjoyed our introduction to coastal Peruvian food, there are significantly more options than most of the Ecuadorian fare we tried. Meals usually begin with a small plate of ceviche. Next follows usually some form of seafood, chicken, or meat with vegetables and rice. The accompanying juice has continued to be excellent.

We enjoyed the atmosphere in Mancora for a few days but were soon ready to keep moving south. We are currently in Huanchaco, just north of Trujillo. More stories and photos will be up soon- we’ve been battling a few stomach troubles recently, keeping us inside more than we like. Soon to come though: pre-Incan ruins, huge mountains, and Lima for New Years!

On the Road Again

2008-12-11T18:48:00.001-05:00

Our last venture in Ecuador was to ride the Devil’s Nose train, a “must-see” experience according to our guidebook (and many other guides apparently). The train sets off from Riobamba, passing through the town of Aluasi before running the Devil’s Nose loop. Many tourists bus to Aluasi and pick up the train there to ride the switchbacks as the train traverses a sheer mountainside. The main drawing point that distinguishes this from most Ecuadorian bus trips is that passengers are allowed to ride on the train’s roof. We enjoyed the experience but could have done without the loads of pushy tourists.

Ready for a new adventure, we hit the road early the next morning for Peru. We bounced down the road on the 6 hour trip to Guayaquil. As soon as we arrived we went in search of an international bus, by far the best way to cross the “worse border in South America.” Stories abound of travelers being scammed, ripped off, or straight up robbed by taxi drivers and corrupt police. Friends of ours were stopped and told they need to buy a $200 tourist card to safely cross the border. They were too savvy for that but were still handed a counterfeit bill changing dollars into Peruvian Soles.

Our bus guided us to the various necessary immigration stops before dropping us off in the shady Peruvian border town of Tumbes. After 13 hours of travel we were fairly bedraggled and unready for the onslaught of street touts shouting they could get us to wherever we needed to go. We eventually managed to get dropped off by a bus supposedly headed to Mancora, our intended destination. Unfortunately, the bus wasn’t planning on leaving for anywhere that night. We managed to squeeze ourselves into a car packed with approximately 12 Peruvians headed down to the coast. Two hours later, we arrived in Mancora. Luckily the beach has been a great place for us to recuperate the past few days, watching kitesurfers cut through the ocean and soar over waves.

Scammed by Jungle Spirits

2008-12-06T10:32:00.008-05:00

There’s an abundance of phrases out there such as “buyer beware,” “you pay for what you get,” and so on… I’m not sure at what point the alarm bells should have started ringing in our heads, but our recent excursion to the Amazon from Baños gave us a reminder to keep said clichés in mind, especially while traveling. To be fair, our expedition had high and low points. There were unforgettable experiences and we had excellent company; however in the end we had reason to shake our heads in dismay (or rub our bellies in agony in some cases).

Budget conscious, we settled on a three-day excursion into the jungle not too far from Baños. To go deeper in would have required us to stay for more days at a more expensive per-person rate.

En route to the lodge we made an incredible stop at a monkey reserve- not included in the tour but the $1.50 admission wasn’t too big a deterrent (we’re not that cheap!). The reserve functioned as a rescue center for monkeys that had been in captivity. The Frenchman who oversaw our visit gave us our introduction to the monkeys. He walked over with a couple of Woolly Monkeys on his shoulder- they turned out to be our favorites, very friendly. Anytime we would extend a hand, one would grab onto our fingers and hop onto the proffered arm. Curious White Capuchin monkeys were quick to show up as well, described by our guide as “sons of the devil.” We didn’t find them so bad, although it was a good thing we had emptied our pockets ahead of time. They would hang around our necks by their tails as they used their hands to unbutton pockets and search for anything inside. One stood guard against Martina, the Black Capuchin Monkey who was jealous of our guide’s attention and kept trying to force her way into the group to scold or attack us. Our guide also pointed out Spider Monkeys, Clown Monkeys, and more aggressive Coatis nearby.

We soon arrived at our home for the first night. We were camped in the secondary forest, rainforest that has re-grown after being harvested for timber. According to our guide Leo, this area in Ecuador occurs between elevations of 800 m to 250 m. A longer trip would have taken us to untouched primary rainforest, but we were still in a place brimming with life.

Walking in the forest we saw plants such as the “Sangre de Cristo,” used by indigenous people to treat menstrual cramps. We saw a tree with thorny roots, used to grate various fruits and vegetables. Each plant we passed could serve a different function. The “Achiote” pods we opened served as face paint. The “Sangre de Drago” plant helps with diarrhea and insect bites- definite jungle scourges! We snacked on sugary lemon ants, found inside the stems of certain plants. Leo also showed us some thorny leaves that increase blood flow, helping anyone with sore muscles or arthritis. We were pricked lightly in a demonstration. Along with increased blood flow, the plant left behind some ugly red raised bumps. According to Leo these would fade in an hour or two. That sounded fine, but Leo, it’s been 5 days now…

We eventually arrived at a small pool filled by a towering waterfall. A perfect end to our first day… we swam about for a bit and headed home (luckily on a quicker path), exhausted and ready to fall asleep to the noises of the jungle.

We set out early the next morning on another waterfall trek. We learned about similar medicinal plants that served functions from mosquito repellent to soap to a torch. We saw trees that hadn’t been cut down- huge monsters that were still young at 300 years old. To reach the “cascada escondida” we had to swim through a channel of deep water. There was a beautiful pool with a tree perfectly positioned for jumping into the falls… an excellent first half of the day.

On our return to camp we skipped lunch and packed for the next lodge. The hike had made us hungry, but we had other plans in mind. If we refrained from food for the afternoon we would have the opportunity to participate in an indigenous shamanic ritual. We would be able to drink a concoction called “ayahuasca,” Quechua for “vine of the soul.” Whoever partook was supposed to vomit, purging out impure substances, and then spend the next 4-5 hours seeing incredible visions and spirits of the jungle. It sounded fascinating enough to forgo eating…

We canoed to the next camp. It was an interesting trip through some whitewater, only slightly diminished by the fact that it was completely unnecessary- our guide hopped in a pickup truck and was at the next site waiting for us. We unpacked and went off with the local shaman to be bathed under a waterfall (yet again). He slashed a path through the forest using his machete until we reached the trickling water. After a quick rinse with water and jungle leaves, we headed back to camp… on a perfectly nice, already trimmed path. I enjoy hiking through the forest, but after a point the unnecessary trips begin to make things feel contrived…

Sometime after sunset we made our way to the shaman’s hut. On the door hung some sort of skull, adorned with large horns. A small fire burned in the center with a few benches around it. Rocks, bottles, and small figurines were arrayed along the walls. The shaman began the ritual, explaining his role in the community as a traditional healer. He sprayed some sort of herbal and alcohol-smelling substance over us and rubbed stones on our heads and arms, breathing deeply and using jungle leaves to wave away evil spirits. We were handed cups of the ayahuasca, a foul smelling beverage that tasted like campfire with ashy particles in it. After we were done the shaman told us that we should all go relax and wait for the visions to begin…

And that was it, done and done. We all vomited out whatever we consumed, but definitely weren’t visited by any sort of vision or jungle spirit. Our minds seemed a bit stirred up, following trains of thought wherever they might lead, but that was the most interesting aspect of our experience. It seemed we had paid to be sick… The next morning we told our guide that we should have just spent the money on beers- we might have even been able to vomit as well, but could have at least had a good time on the way! The (sham?) shaman was nowhere to be found.

After a brief hike up to a viewpoint we decided to pack it in and head back to Baños. Megan and our friend David weren’t feeling well; they seemed to have picked up some nasty jungle souvenir. We got back to town and went straight to the office of our tour group to leave some feedback on our jungle expedition. Knowing that we had some negative comments about the “jungle” and “shaman” experience we were directed to an empty page in the middle of the comment book- nowhere near the excellent comments about the trip located at the beginning of the book. So that’s where the bad ones go?

It turned out that both Megan and David had picked up an awful stomach bug. Luckily, they seem on the mend, and we are all finished with Baños for now. I’d still love to do a real Amazon tour, to the primary jungle. This trip at least whetted our appetites for that. As for the “ayahuasca,” we are still very curious, but wary.

Back in a few days...

2008-11-30T17:54:00.001-05:00

Hey everyone, we just wanted to let you know that we are headed off for a jungle tour over the next three days. We should have some cool photos and stories when we come back!

Sore seats for Thanksgiving

2008-11-29T14:39:00.008-05:00

They told us “It’s a 60 km ride, but all downhill…” Mountain biking from the Andes down to the Amazon, passing spectacular waterfalls along the way? It sounded like the perfect orientation to Baños, the small adventure mecca that’s been our home for the past few days. And it was, although we found the ride significantly more grueling than expected. It turns out that what goes down still has to go up at some point. Luckily Baños is not only the perfect spot to face off against the outdoors, it’s also a great spot for recovery and relaxation.

We set out early on our matching silver colored mountain bikes, carrying one backpack loaded with water, ponchos, and a bike repair kit. We bombed down the long hills that started our ride, cruising in between the dramatic mountains and stopping occasionally to take in the plunging waterfalls and churning rivers heading to the jungle. We had to pass through one unlit car tunnel at the start of the trip, terrifying both because of the speeding buses that had passed us so far and because I forgot that I was wearing sunglasses when I entered the tunnel. Brilliant, I know. Luckily we detoured around the remaining tunnels, taking small paths with amazing views.

After one particularly long hike down to the crashing “Devil’s Cauldron” waterfall, Megan called for a decision: we were either hiking to check out all the falls or finishing the ride to the jungle… not both. An excellent call, because although we still had plenty of hills to cruise down, the surrounding geography required us to pedal back up some of those Andean foothills. Spinning our pedals through lower and lower gears, we looked enviously at the vans passing by with bikes on the roof, with drivers calling: “Ride back to Baños?” We resisted temptation and pushed through. Stubbornness: a virtue or a vice?

Exhausted, we finally arrived in the town of Puyo, the gateway to the Amazon. We stumbled up to the first restaurant we could find… “Are you open? Do you have beer? And lots of food?” Eventually sated, we threw our bikes into the storage compartment of a bus and looked in wonder as we flew back up the road to Baños. We put our aching rear ends back on the saddles to ride back to our hostel, running into our friends David, Lisa, and Fiona along the way… They agreed to meet up the next morning so we could all host a joint American/British/Ecuadorian Thanksgiving meal, with Mexican food. Megan baked a fantastic apple pie to keep some part of tradition alive. It was a perfect recovery day: friends, food, and a fiesta. What better to be thankful for?

Bats in the Belfry

2008-11-25T19:38:00.010-05:00

We spent the past couple of days in Quito taking advantage of the conveniences of a major city- sending mail, restocking mosquito repellent, trying to exchange books. We did manage a nice photo outing to Quito’s basilica… an amazing building where we not only climbed to the top for an amazing view of the city; we actually clambered through the structure of the church itself. We explored the skeleton of the building, which was fascinating. We just arrived in Baños today…. There are so many shops offering Amazon tours, whitewater rafting, mountain biking, and 4-wheeler rentals that it’s overwhelming. I think we have an exciting week ahead of us before continuing South.

(We were amused to see the selection of bowls, bongs, and flasks available at the Basilica gift shop...)

(Megan is on a platform inside the church roof, over the nave... As it was a Sunday, services were going on at the time)

(Megan's tired of taking photos of churches and wants to go do something else now...)

If you never did, you should. These things are fun, and fun is good. -Dr. Seuss

2008-11-23T19:04:00.003-05:00

Finally in flip-flops...

2008-11-22T16:30:00.012-05:00

"The time has come," the Walrus said,
"To talk of many things:
Of shoes--and ships--and sealing-wax--
Of cabbages--and kings--
And why the sea is boiling hot--
And whether pigs have wings."

After fighting our way down the coast through mosquito-plagued, swampy, and shady border towns, we finally found a place that justified the trip… Canoa- our own little paradise in Ecuador. A tiny finishing and surfing village comprised of a few dirt roads and an amazing 200-meter wide beach, Canoa has attracted more than it’s fair share of travelers that were passing through and haven’t left. Although we arrived just before surf season the waves were great and we were happy to find that it is possible to get a tan on the Equator.

Upon arrival we quickly settled into a small Alaskan/Mexican-run beachfront hostel called Coco Loco. The owner was having a few cocktails with a group of travelers that we’d met earlier on in Mompiche, so we joined in to what quickly became a happy hour routine for the week. The beach itself was practically empty, with more colorful fishing boats lined up than sunbathers. The shore stretches past town to some formidable cliffs that can be hiked to only at low tide; a scramble up the rocks reveals bat-filled caves and supposedly the occasional blue-footed booby visiting from the Galapagos. On nice afternoons the sky at the other end of the beach filled with paragliders, taking advantage of the constant and refreshing breeze. Fresh fish and ceviche make up most of the local cuisine with the occasional pizza joint and even a Basque restaurant to keep things interesting.

After a week of being greeted by smiles and surfing invitations from locals and ex-pats alike we weren’t sure we would be able to leave. Elizabeth, the hostel owner, even wanted to plan and host a beachfront wedding for us! We weren’t getting too much surfing done though, as I was recovering from tweaking my neck earlier in the week. We decided that we had to hit the road, hoping to make it to Baños by Thanksgiving. I’m sure a return to Canoa awaits us at some point in the future. I just hope it doesn’t change too much.

(These kids saw us taking photos and wanted to show off for the camera...)

P.S. 2 questions about our bus ride back to Quito: Why does the salsa music have to keep blaring all night on the bus? Why the intense pat downs and searches of passengers who get on at the bus station if we are going to pick up anyone (no search needed) who flags the bus down on the road throughout the night?

Paradise not found... yet

2008-11-15T17:46:00.007-05:00

November 12, 2008- We had to postdate this one a bit due to lack of an internet connection...

We’d had enough of freezing on the Equator and wanted to hit the beach. We’d heard of a small surfing town- just two streets- called Mompiche on the Ecuadorian Coast. Described as “Ecuador’s best kept secret” and “some of the best beaches and surfing in Ecuador,” it seemed the place to go. Instead of backtracking to Quito, we decided to take the road North to the top of the coast. That trip took us from the mountains into a different world.

The map made it look like we could journey from Otavalo to Mompiche in one day, with time for an evening dip in the Pacific. Not true. We made it from Otavalo to Ibarra quickly, and it wasn’t long before we found a bus to San Lorenzo on the coast. Time slowed from there. The mountains disappeared from sight and the lush green jungle surrounded us. All of a sudden we had left the mountains and their indigenous people behind and were suddenly in an African world. We passed small villages with banana trees and buildings on stilts. We picked up riders carrying machetes and rifles. We finally pulled into San Lorenzo, a town that’s colors, sounds, and smells made it feel like we were at least in Brazil, if not Africa.

(Dusty streets of San Lorenzo)

We checked into the first hotel we found, tired from the trip. No way we were going to find a bus towards Mompiche that day. After dinner we hung out in the hotel for a bit but soon wanted to step out and buy some water and a few beers. At the bottom of the stairs the hotel manager was standing guard behind the gate.

“You want to go out? What could you need at this hour? I probably have it here, it’s better for me to just get it for you…”

“But it’s 9 o’clock…. Oh…”

The billboards on our way into town were focused on stopping drug trafficking in the area but I guess they hadn’t yet succeeded in securing the area. Good thing we bought a season of the Sopranos while in Quito to watch on the laptop. We looked from the balcony out onto the street for a bit, but the streets were deserted with the exception of a few men lingering in the shadows and corners.

(Waiting for the bus out of town)

We found the first bus we could the next morning to Esmereldas, where we would have to transfer buses towards Mompiche. Again, our ride on the old beater seemed to take longer than belief…Time dragged as we stopped to pick up passengers headed the same direction or every time the bus driver had a hankering for a snack - not so different from much of South America, but definitely exaggerated here. We were stopped at the most intense military checkpoint we’ve seen on our trip. Bags searched, soldiers checking between the seats, groups separated into those with ID and those without. They didn’t know what to do with us, but enjoyed pointing out our respective countries on my tattoo. We finally arrived in Esmereldas. Our guidebook said: Take care when moving about, especially near the bus station. Point taken, we found the first bus we could going South that would let us off anywhere near Mompiche. Before we left though, some guy did try and follow Megan into the bathroom to get a peek before she slammed the door in his face.

The bus let us off by the side of the road where we were told we could take a “mototaxi” to Mompiche. Sure enough, there was a motorbike with a cart attached to the back. Sweet ride eh? We hopped in for a rough trip down a dirt road until we could finally see the ocean in the distance. We made it to town right as power cut off for the night, 7 pm. It seems like a nice place- two sand roads, everything right along the beach. I just hope it’s a nice spot to mellow out after the two day trip here- and that the power comes back on as the lady who got us a room told us, so we can get some food. Until soon my friends…

(On the mototaxi)

November 15 update:
A couple of days of being consumed alive by mosquitos in Mompiche proved enough for us. It seemed we arrived just a few months too early. The whole town (1 street really) seemed under construction, with nobody yet open for business (with the exception of one fantastic pizzeria). Most locals didn't seem ready yet to have visitors around, so we soon caught the moto-taxi back to the road and kept going South. We arrived in Canoa last night, and it seems we've finally found what we've been searching for. A great beach, good waves, sun, things to do, and a friendly town... more on all that later.

(Megan was experimenting with some night photography in Mompiche. The little girl in this photo can only be seen by the trail of the burning log she was playing with as she walked)

$20 for a piglet, $15 for a blanket!

2008-11-10T19:33:00.011-05:00

The Otavalo market is profitable enough to stay open 7 days a week but Saturday takes the cake for busiest day. Nearly empty hotels throughout town fill up on Friday night with tourists arriving from Quito- and everywhere else in the world. All of a sudden you can walk down the street and hear English, German, and Korean mixed in with the Spanish. Tourist central indeed- it’s one of the first places we’ve seen people just wander around with digital SLRs strapped around their necks. There is of course a reason for the hubbub- it’s the home of some of the most famous crafts that come from South America.

Saturday is the main day for the traditional Otavalo market, which is actually divided into 4 different sections around town. The crafts market is the main draw for tourists, where members of local indigenous groups showcase jewelry, carvings, and especially woven goods of every color. The food market causes sensory overload with colorful carts of fruit, sacks of grain, hanging cow organs, grilled chicken feet, and whole roasted pigs. The small and large animal markets, located next to each other, are easily the most interesting part of the whole affair. This section is mostly for locals, situated outside of town and busiest before most tourists finish breakfast. There are crates filled with ducklings rushing en mass into each other. Cows, donkeys, and sheep are docilely led around and tied up at any available fencepost. And most noticeable are the squeals of pigs as people struggle to drag them anywhere they don’t want to go. Forget mules; there should be an expression: stubborn as a pig.

We arrived in Otavalo on a Thursday night. Despite its emptiness at the time, its touristy nature called out from the souvenir shops, the restaurants with English menus, the tour companies, and the hotels on every corner. As the books say, the tour groups rolled in on Friday evening. Buses filled with people saying “oh, grassy-ass seen-yoor. Hasta lou-y-gooo.” Megan’s Spanish accent has never sounded so perfect. We’re not in Colombia anymore…

This place does have a few redeeming qualities though. It’s set in a beautiful valley with at least one snowcapped volcano visible. We hiked to waterfall a couple kilometers away from town today. Granted, tourists left and right as well, but you can’t blame people for wanting to enjoy nature. After spending a minute absorbing the mist churned up by the cascade we found a side path that led us to the top of the falls. We scrambled up the rocks and at one point even climbed directly over the rushing river leading to the falls. We decided our sneakers gave us adequate traction to make it across… and then looked back to see a local girl make the same crossing in her heels. Oh well. At the top we got to sit at the edge of the falls and dip our feet in the powerful rush of water. It was a cleansing after the market.

A Happy Introduction to Ecuador

2008-11-06T12:38:00.000-05:00

We came straight to Quito to meet up with an international group of friends to watch the election coverage. We quickly found a bar showing the event. It was an exciting night and we were all thrilled by the results. Congratulations to President-elect Obama.

Aside from the election fiesta and subsequent recovery (the altitude hits you hard here), we wanted to scope out Quito briefly. The city is divided into two parts. The Old City is filled with beautiful architecture, plazas, and old cobbled streets reminiscent of Europe. It’s easy to see why it was the first city in South America to be declared a world heritage site. The new city seems to be one of the backpacker capitals of South America, particularly the neighborhood we stayed in, La Mariscal. You can find good burgers, Thai food, Irish bars, and an office for every adventure tour imaginable. After hearing some alarming stories we wanted to scope out the city this time around to see if we felt comfortable taking photos, and I hope that on our return to Quito we can bring some of these neighborhoods to life.

Coming to a country that gets much more tourism than Colombia I didn’t know what sort of attitude people would have towards travelers. We’ve again been overwhelmed by the hospitality and friendliness of almost everyone we’ve met. After two months in this continent I can’t imagine not spending part of my life here. We are leaving Quito now with warm impressions and headed to the small city of Otavalo to check out the indigenous markets and do some hiking over the next few days.

Colombian Colors and Textures

2008-11-05T22:48:00.006-05:00

In Search of the Southern Cross

2008-11-03T16:58:00.004-05:00

We’re currently shivering, sitting in the coldest place we’ve encountered so far. We are in Quito, and although it sits almost on the equator (a mere 23 km away), it’s high enough in the Andes that I’m wearing long underwear. We were sad to leave Colombia, but are very excited for what Ecuador holds in store for us.

We stayed in Popayan through Halloween. Colombians celebrate Halloween more than Ecuadorians and it’s a great holiday, so we stayed for the fiesta. The day was filled with parents taking kids trick or treating through the streets, along with a parade of trucks filled with costumed students and ridiculous paper mache figures of naked people, clowns, and odd ethnic representations… Unfortunately we came across the parade by accident so we didn’t have a camera with us. We sat on the front stoop of our hostel and gave out candy as adults pushed stone faced, shy children towards us. All the kids wear store bought (or rented) costumes and they do most of the trick or treating at businesses along the streets. Tony and Kim, the couple that own the hostel in which we stayed, told us that the costumes are like that because kids are treated as a kind of “fashion accessory” for parents. Megan was amused that the kids only carried a tiny bucket for candy, nothing like the massively oversized pillowcase satchels we used to have.

(I dressed as a Colombian for Halloween... still trying to wash the gel out of my hair)

Soon after we recovered from the festivities, we hit the road South. It’s a sad thing to leave Colombia behind… I feel so lucky that we got to be there and see the country now. Colombia is becoming a destination for travelers, but isn’t a tourist destination yet. We spent two months meeting incredibly friendly people; basking on beautiful beaches; hiking incredible mountains; touring and partying in vibrant cities. We took common sense precautions but felt incredibly safe the whole time. There are still many places in Colombia that are struggling and people that live in desperate circumstances, but we found no reason at all to discourage travel. We were able to see these places before they changed too much, although people say they can see the country changing before their eyes. It’s a beautiful and magical place, and I hope that we’ll be privileged enough to return.

Okay, I’ll stop going on and on. We were amazed when we crossed the border from Colombia to Ecuador. I know I just talked all that praise, but Colombia still has a reputation, and no one checked our bags at the border or anywhere else. Even driving through Ecuadorian military checkpoints they simply checked our passports and sent us on our way. So I guess we could’ve carried that suitcase some guy offered us $10,000 to take to Quito… kidding, kinda. After 17 hours of travel we finally arrived in the big city. Here we feel notably more cautious than in Colombia… 90% of the stories we’ve heard about Quito include travelers being robbed. So we may not use our camera for the first couple of days here, although that’ll change as soon as we get into the countryside. We’re pumped for the mountains, jungle, and beach. There are so many opportunities for adventure packed into this tiny country! Plus, yesterday was the first time in my life that I crossed the equator, so yay for that! Don’t forget to go vote tomorrow, especially if you are voting for Obama!

(Again, blending in with the locals)

Permanent art...

2008-10-30T13:00:00.005-05:00

I wanted to post some photos of the tattoo I just got here in Popayan! It’s one that I’ve wanted for a while- I’ve always loved maps, and have researched all kinds of different projections and styles. It’s constant inspiration to keep exploring, to never forget how big the world is and how many different cultures and places there are. I also like that I can always see the world from a different angle, never getting trapped with just one perspective. We’ve spent a lot of time hanging out at the tattoo shop here in town, and were really impressed with the art done by our friend Gustavo. It’s a really nice clean place where we felt comfortable, so it was time.

She's not a jockey yet...

2008-10-29T13:27:00.012-05:00

We managed to drag our aching bodies out of bed early the day after hiking to the Aguacate to catch the first of three buses we would need to get to San Agustin. The student group’s driver offered to try and find room for us on his bus, but the teachers thought we would be too big a distraction. I think Megan was okay with that decision… We somehow squeezed into a pickup truck that would take us the first leg of our trip. There was three of us, and 14 more people. That’s right, 17 people in a pickup, the Colombian express. We made quick time through the country roads, almost sliding into a bus around a corner at one point. The drivers here have a perverse way of laughing when sudden death has been avoided. A bus and another pickup later, we made it to San Agustin.

We turned in early at our beautiful hostel (set on top of a canyon created by the Rio Magdelena). We dedicated the next morning to the archeological park of San Agustin. It’s filled with massive statues representing people, gods, and animals. Most of these figures were found guarding tombs, although some were buried along with the bodies. Like the culture that populated Tierradentro, the creators of these statues vanished before the Europeans arrived in South America. It’s amazing to see, although after a while we were suffering from a bit of ‘ruin overload.’ Luckily, we weren’t the only ones.

We trudged up a huge hill to check out a few statues that were placed where they could overlook the region. The sky was dark and we could tell that rain was upon us, but we ran into a few obstacles before we could leave… about 25 young students. They were from a province in Colombia that tourists don’t make it to- until a few years ago, it was still considered disputed territory with the guerrillas, and is still a bit dodgy. They were fascinated by us- all of the girls wanted pictures with Megan because she was so much taller than them! They wanted to know all about where we were from and what we thought about Colombia:

“Did you drive here!?|” (our favorite question directed towards Drouyn, an Australian)
“Have you eaten cuy yet?” (a local specialty of roasted guinea pig)
“How do you know you get the right change after you buy something?”
“Do you listen to Juanes in the U.S.?” (‘La Camisa Negra’… oh Latin pop)

Between all of the photos and autograph requests (we even signed fútbol jerseys!), it was like we had suddenly acquired celebrity status. The kids stayed with us for the rest of the time in the park; we left them at the front gate before walking back to town.

Meeting these kids was another great experience in getting to know the Colombian people, all so friendly and helpful. Everyone wants to talk, both about where we are from and about what we think of Colombia. Many conversations, especially in places like San Agustin or Tierradentro, eventually come to the topic of Colombia’s reputation. Many of these regions were dangerous in the past, even just a few years ago. However at this point these places are safe and the people are welcoming. Especially throughout smaller cities like these, people really look after us and want to include us in their lives. Following our adventures in the archaeological park, we walked around the city, explored, and talked with locals. That night we went out for a few drinks and actually ran into the same students that we had met in Tierradentro. It turned out they were university age, so when Megan and I called it quits for the night we left Drouyn to ‘practice his Spanish.’

(this little guy was attracted to the colors of Megan's bracelets)

We had plans for the next day to explore the area around San Agustin by horseback. We were assured that we were getting a great guide and some excellent, spirited horses- and they certainly were. We galloped through the area getting to see more statues, farms, cliffs, and mountains. We arrived at one site along the canyon called the Chipaquira that has figures carved into the rocks so they face the sun as it rises on the equinoxes and solstices of the year. We got to see the Coca plants that have given Colombia such a reputation. Each farmer is legally allowed to have 19 plants and many use them to make tea or even a sort of wine. By the time we turned for home we were beat, but it seemed that our adventures weren’t over yet.

Our ‘very spirited’ horses loved to run and as soon as one would take off it was almost impossible to hold the others back. As we passed another group of riders our horses took off at breakneck speed. I looked over my shoulder at one point and saw Megan’s horse running along, but without a rider. I somehow managed to get my horse to stop and jumped off to run back. Her horse had been trying to pass another inside a corner, and almost lost its balance. If she hadn’t fallen, it probably would have fallen on her. A bit shaken and with some serious bruises, she remounted her steed and we cautiously made our way home. After meeting our friend Spencer that night for dinner, who has been riding his bike across Colombia, we sat and watched the stars over the canyon for the night. One shooting star after another, we sat in awe of nature.

The next day was a recovery day before we dared the bumpy bus ride back to Popayan. We did check out a bar called “La Casa de Tarzan.” There was live music played by a few traveling South American hippies set in bamboo building that is designed to be like a jungle tree house. There is even a fireman’s pole that you can slide down if you don’t want to take the stairs!

We caught the Sunday bus back to Popayan. It was an election day in Colombia and so both San Agustin and Popayan were busier than we’ve ever seen them, especially on a Sunday (when towns are usually dead). The bus ride was a bit rough- it’s about 120 km through a national park, but takes almost 6 hours because the unpaved road is so bad. So I believe we’ll be relaxing in Popayan a couple of days before heading to Ecuador.

Tomb Raiders

2008-10-28T14:35:00.010-05:00

Over the past week we’ve explored ancient tombs, wandered among statues from a lost culture, ridden (and fallen from) horses, seen mountaintops and stars, and met some of the friendliest people we’ve encountered so far. We just returned from a weeklong trip off the beaten track in Southern Colombia. We spent our time between Tierradentro and San Agustin, both UNESCO world heritage sites.

We took off early last Monday to catch the only bus that goes directly to San Andres de Pisimbala; a tiny, two street town that is the base for exploring Tierradentro. It’s a magical region of green hills covered with waterfalls and streams. It was the home of a pre-Columbian civilization that dates back to the 6th century. All that is known about them comes from the tombs that weren’t emptied by grave robbers or treasure seekers. It’s a spectacular trip, but the route there showed us how even traveling less than 200 km could bring us to a different world.

As soon as we got on the bus it seemed we caused a bit of a stir. Our group consisted of Megan and I plus an Australian friend named Drouyn. We are accustomed to being stared at constantly, but still didn’t expect to hear: “Oye, tres extranjeros!” An old man immediately got up to offer to rent us a room in his home; where he said they also make delicious fresh orange juice. The road itself felt mostly untraveled. Most of the time it was just dirt and gravel, and at times it seemed they dug the road right ahead of us as we passed, teetering on the edge of a ravine. Our colorful old bus bounced its way through the cloud-draped hills, passing over old bridges and eventually landed us in San Andres. We asked one of the first women we saw about a place for lodging that we’d heard about. She called down the street to her friend Blanca, who owned the spot we planned on staying at. She walked us a couple of blocks down the road. We slipped through the barbed wire fence (set up to block cows but allow people through, provided they are skinny enough) and unloaded our gear. It cost us about 4 bucks per person… perfect.

Tired from the trip, we decided to confine our explorations for the evening to the town itself. We ate at the only restaurant that carries enough food to serve guests even if they don’t plan the meal a day in advance. It was run by a friendly couple- a woman prepared the food while her husband told us about the area and showed us some of his carvings. We ate with live music provided by his pet bird, whistling a tune that we were told comes from the Pacific coast. We settled up with promises to return and set out to see what else the town held for us.

(Coffee beans drying by the street before being roasted)

Down the street it seemed like some kind of gathering was spilling out of someone’s house. As we passed they kept calling for us to come over and say hi, so we decided not to be rude and came to check out the scene. There were a few women standing around and a couple of guys that seemed to be struggling with the standing as they staggered about, with small children running around the group. They were eager to share the murky brown liquid that they were imbibing and that kept sloshing out of a couple of bowls shared between the group. They gave us a cup of the ‘chicha’ to share… We later found out that it’s fermented sugarcane juice, although most people we asked told us we definitely shouldn’t drink it. Oops… luckily our stomachs all remained intact. We moved on, much to the dismay of Emilio, the local guy that seemed to have the most teeth. He was hoping to convince Megan to stay for the rest of the evening, or at least to have her send a few amigas his way.

(reducing sugarcane)

We soon found one of the only spots in town that sold beers and decided to return to our hostel. By 8 pm there was no power and so we sat and drank by candlelight. It seemed that in the time we were gone a Colombian student group had checked into the hostel, a source of controversy over the next few days. Megan wasn’t a fan of the loud late nights and early mornings, and was convinced they were a high school group. Drouyn had set his eyes on a few cute Colombian girls, and decided they must be college students (although he did lose interest in his first target after he saw her shaving her mustache…). Either way, they were traveling the same route we were.

(helping translate for Drouyn as he gets a tattoo in Popayan)

We set off early the next morning to explore the area. We did the museum quickly so that we could set off ahead of the students on our hike. The tombs are found in various sites around San Andres, most of which can be visited on a 4 or 5-hour hike through the surrounding hills. We made our way to the first site. Not seeing anyone around, we lifted up the closest gate to climb down into the darkness of a tomb. Our first vista was a dark chamber that seemed to be carved into volcanic rock. As we re-emerged into the sunlight the caretaker that watches the area called us up the hill. He explained that there were about 70 tombs in that area alone, but he would direct us to the more interesting ones. We met similar guides at each site along that route, all eager to share information about the tombs and the area. We were directed into various tombs, some only a couple meters below ground, others 9 meters deep. Each was a different size and was designed to hold a group of people. There were niches in the walls where the bodies would first rest. After a few years, the remains would be placed into urns that were placed in special holes near the niches. The level of ornamentation depended on the status of the person being interred. Some were simple caverns, while others were decorated with carvings of faces and with geometric designs painted on the walls. Most of what is known about the sites is conjecture, but it still sends a chill down your spine when you are told that it is believed the tomb you are climbing into was the tomb of the grand shamans.

Our morning circuit landed us back in San Andres for lunch. There is one concentration of tombs that the route didn’t bring us to, on a nearby mountain peak. The hike is supposed to provide breathtaking views but is extremely strenuous and is a longer trip than the one we did in the morning. Drouyn was out due to some pain from the new tattoo on his foot. Everyone we talked to told Megan and I that we should wait and do the hike the next day. However, we planned to make the trip to San Agustin the next day; so we decided to tough it out and make the trek.

Damn. On our way up, a local told us that we had to climb to the top of one mountain, then down to a valley, then up another, taller mountain. And this was just to get to the site. By the time we made the first summit, we were praying that we had misunderstood and that we had made it. No such luck. The road headed down again, and we continued on our way. All around us were steep cliffs, yet it seems that locals living in the area still were able to grow and tend plants all the way up. Colombians really must be part mountain goat. We made it to the final ridge that we would walk along to the get to the “aguacate,” the tomb site. There was such an amazing view. We were greeted at the top by a horse that seemed to have claimed the area as his territory- upon seeing us; he flexed his ‘masculinity’ to prove it. We ceded to his apparent authority, and continued on our way along the ridge to the tombs.

Most of the tombs in this area were emptied by the guaqueros, the tomb raiders. However, there were still a couple that had been maintained in good condition. This far from town there was no one to oversee the ruins. As we climbed down into the chilly dank tomb we were struck by a sense of peace, just us in this mystical place. Inside we found faces and figures of animals painted along the walls- salamanders, frogs, serpents. It was such a powerful place to be, this ancient burial ground on a mountaintop. We eventually made the steep and treacherous trek back to town. We stumbled past our friends from the night before, enjoying more bowls of chicha, but had no energy or desire to stop. We filled up on food and made it an early night- the next day had some serious travel ahead!

A note...

2008-10-19T23:35:00.002-05:00

Hey my friends,

Just wanted to let anyone know, we are probably going to be out of touch for a few days. We are going to explore a few sites near Popayan and will be back next Saturday or Sunday with some cool stories and photos. Hope everyone is well!

Kevin and Megan

Colonialism Revisited and Politics abroad…

2008-10-17T15:31:00.006-05:00

(Proud local fan)

Cartagena is by far the colonial city par excellence of Colombia. Ornate, colorful, well-preserved buildings line the streets; and what is more stunning than a city on the sea? Over the past few days we’ve been hanging out in what’s known as the ‘second colonial city’ of Colombia, Popayan. Despite partial destruction due to earthquakes over the years, the whitewashed walls and old architecture are still incredibly well preserved. Unfortunately, we haven’t been able to get into or take photos of the stunning main plaza as it’s currently blocked off for restoration. While Cartagena’s romantic feel cannot be beat, Popayan has a different soul to it. Instead of being preserved for tourism, the whole city is used- old buildings currently house banks, small restaurants, apartments, and businesses throughout the city, making it a bustling and lively place.

(view from our window in the hostel)

Popayan is in a valley; surrounded by the original indigenous groups that maintain their traditional lives up in the mountains. We went to the Guambiano Indian market held every Tuesday in a nearby town. It’s less of a craft market than what we’ll find later in Ecuador or Peru, but instead a place where the Indians come to buy and sell food and other necessities. It’s an amazing sight- visually bright and vibrant, yet the market seems subdued and calm. The men wear royal blue- almost purple skirts, dark boots, black cloaks, and a small top hat that sits right on top of their head. The women wear almost the same thing but in a different color scheme: dark skirts, a royal blue cloak (sometimes with pink or yellow weaving on the inside, and the same little top hats. Children have either little red knit caps or flat straw hats. We unfortunately don’t have any photos from the experience, as they extremely dislike cameras and we wanted to be respectful. It was an amazing sight to see though.

(Photo from El Tiempo, Colombian newspaper)

Our return to Popayan after the market was unfortunately less tranquil. The indigenous groups throughout Colombia are fed up by what they consider mistreatment by the government that controls their homeland. In order to make their complaints heard, they are using the week after Columbus Day to protest and have blockaded highways throughout the country, primarily in this region. We had to get off of our bus to walk around a roadblock and eventually catch another ride back to town. There was no danger to us or other tourists in the process, just inconvenience for anyone trying to travel, although there has been violence between protesters and police. There isn’t much public sympathy for the Indian’s demands, as thousands of people throughout the country have lost their homes in the conflict over the past 50 years. Apparently these protests go on from time to time, occasionally shutting down major travel routes. Luckily we’re in a great place to wait until things pass over.

(Graffiti support for the protests)

(Road's blocked for a loooong ways...)

(We squeezed into the back of one of the few buses available)

(I'm happy to get off the bus and walk, with a little friend on my hat)

The other night in our hostel we caught the third presidential debate. We’ve tried to follow them all closely, although we did tragically miss seeing Biden-Palin. I won’t get into the politics of the thing, but it’s amazing to see the interest these debates evoke in an international setting. Everywhere we go people are curious to know what’s going on and it’s interesting to hear the variety of opinions along the way. We don’t have cable here so everyone sat and watched the live stream over the web. In Bogota and Medellin, despite the party atmosphere, people would walk into the room, sit down and get sucked in to the debate. The commentary is fascinating too: “Do you think America will elect a black president?” “With the international consequences of this election, don’t you think the rest of the world should get a few votes that count as well?” I think a group of people we’ve met along the way will try to reconvene in the same city for an election watch on Nov. 4.

The Revenge of the Monkey

2008-10-14T16:10:00.000-05:00

(I guess the zoo isn't only for kids)

Our unexpected detour to Cali landed us smack in the middle of a holiday weekend (Columbus is popular south of the border as well); so we decided to chill out and enjoy the fiesta for a couple of days. Sultry Cali is the salsa capital of Colombia and renowned for its nightlife. As it’s also known as the center of surgical enhancement in Colombia we kept our eyes peeled for fake ‘tetas’ in our ventures out on the town. (Colombia is a popular destination for medical tourism, with some vacation packages including plastic surgery, lasik, and dental work.) In the end we found a mellow city that’s set up for a constant salsa party but we missed the magnet spots for those with artificially augmented body parts- we saw no more than in Medellin.

(a not so little friend from our hostel in Cali)

On our first stroll through the center of nightlife in town we passed by one disco after another pulsing with constant salsa beats and disco lights, only interrupted by the occasional guy on a microphone shouting above the music. All this at 4:30 in the afternoon, with most places completely empty. Pretty wild. We ventured back to the thumping party later on in the evening. Music and lights were still going strong, this time accompanied by contingents of dancers throughout the bars. Quite a sight, although our gringo selves felt a bit left out as we had neglected our salsa lessons ahead of time. Lesson: if going to Cali, take some salsa classes first (not many other options in the way of nightlife)!

(Just one of Cali's unique Salsa blasting locales)

One of Cali’s other claims to fame is one of the best zoos in Latin America. We started off amazed by the setup and content of the place- condors, jaguars, monkeys, flamingos- mostly Colombian species and even more. In most cases you can walk right up to the cages- close enough to put a hand in! We saw the dark side of this as time went on though and our fascination shifted to the zoo within the zoo. Instead of walking around and enjoying the sights many Colombians like to play a different game. It’s called: Harass the Animal. It included but went well beyond whistling and banging on the glass. After watching a kid try to hit a zebra with a rock we turned around to see a group smacking llamas on the head. Next came a girl trying to get an emu to snap at her hand. Right around the corner everyone from ages 5 to 50 seemed to think it was a good idea to stick their hands through the chain link fence into the mountain lion cage to see if one would react. There should be a rule- you can only harass the animals from inside the cage.

(Once he got the cat's attention by sticking his hand through the fence, time for a photo-op)

In the end we found a troupe of monkeys that had a good handle on the situation. They loved the attention and ran around putting on a show for everyone, chasing each other, grabbing tails, swinging from ropes. They loved cameras as well. After seeing a girl’s camera one ran over to make faces right in front of it. He looked over his shoulder at one point and saw that I had a bigger camera. Immediately done with her, he ran over to give me a little photoshoot. Awesome. The best part of the whole show though was when a kid would climb up right next to the glass to peer in. After being standoffish for a minute or two, a monkey would jump lightning fast into the glass and bang its hands as loud as possible, the shock literally knocking kids backwards. Sweet revenge.

(Mugging for the camera...)

(This kid has no idea what's about to hit him...)

(This guy's serious face loses all credibility with his nose pressed against the glass. je je)

AK-47’s in the Morning…

2008-10-11T21:24:00.000-05:00

We took the overnight bus from Bogota to Cali. The rising sun had just awoken us as our bus pulled over at a small roadside stand. We looked out the window and right there was a crew of guys wearing military uniforms holding automatic weapons… I didn’t know there was a quicker way to feel awake than coffee, but this was it. Everyone grabbed their bags and climbed down from the bus… I’ll spare our family members reading this the worry- not a big deal! Just a police checkpoint, standard procedure apparently. They glanced at my passport, but Megan’s apparently required the attention of several guards… Cute blonde girl? I think so. After that interest waned, they ignored us and we just hung out drinking a small cafe. They peered over the Colombian ID’s a bit longer but quickly sent us all on our way. Colombia’s finest, making sure the roads are safe to travel.

We spent the past week exploring Bogota. It exceeded both of our expectations, which made me happy. I know Megan was a bit anxious about heading into another big city after leaving the relaxed mountain town of Salento. We’d heard different reports about Bogota and about La Candelaria, the old neighborhood that has become a backpacker hub over the past few years. I was pretty reassured that the area was safe, as the NYTimes travel section wrote about the neighborhood a few months ago. Once a place is safe enough for NYTimes travelers, I’m pretty sure we can handle it. It turned out to be an incredibly relaxed, alternative, artsy area. We met some great fellow travelers and had some great conversations with locals. There are also a ton of universities right in the area; so it’s full of young people, cafes, and bars. Richie, if you are reading this (and as my little brother, I hope you at least glance every so often), you should definitely consider studying abroad in Colombia. Megan and I immediately thought of you.

Bogota itself is massive- population somewhere between 7 and 10 million, depending on the source. We got oriented by taking a cable car up the nearby mist covered mountain of Montserrat. As we got to the top the clouds blew in and surrounded us. Aside from that trip, we mostly stuck to our neighborhood, La Candelaria, the historic city center. There is also a modern district which has sprung up to the north, full of tall office buildings and trendy bars, but our only venture there made it seem a bit out of our budget.

We did one day trip outside the city to visit an underground cathedral carved into a salt mine- billed as “The Number One Attraction in Colombia!!!” We probably should have read a bit more into the attempt to use the advertising to bring us out there. It’s fascinating to see massive underground chambers carved into the salt, but beyond that there’s quite a bit of overstatement. I definitely kept my glasses from the 3-d animated film they show at the end of the tour though. It stars a fast talking giant robot. Need any more be said?

(The walls were lit up by these trippy multicolored lights... I guess they decided that white salt just wasn't interesting enough)

(again, trippy lights to accentuate the salt walls... right out of Star Trek)

(High relief crosses carved into the salt walls of the mine)

As much as we loved Bogota, we decided it was time to move on south. When we got to the bus station, our plan was to head to San Agustin, but we had no luck finding a bus. After pushing through the crowds and fighting the Colombian concept of ‘lines’ (lots of shoulder checking involved), we found passage on an overnight bus to Cali. So we’ll save the archeological ruins of San Agustin for a bit later on, it’s now time to experience the salsa capital of Colombia. Chevere!

(with my awesome 3-d glasses)

“Tourists don’t know where they’ve been, travelers don’t know where they’re going.”
-Paul Theroux

3000+ meters and lost in the clouds...

2008-10-04T20:14:00.000-05:00

“You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself in any direction you choose. You're on your own. And you know what you know. You are the guy who'll decide where to go.”
-Dr. Seuss

I see why it’s recommended not to get behind in a travel blog. Over the past few days we’ve covered enough ground and have so much we want to share.

From Medellin we took a bus to Armenia, a small city in the Zona Cafetera, where most of Colombia’s coffee is produced. We’d heard about a beautifully preserved small town called Salento, population 3,000, located an hour from Armenia up in the mountains. Megan was especially itching to find a small town and Salento seemed the perfect spot. Good call. We arrived in the evening and walked to a hostel that we’d heard good things about- this was the first city small enough not to be filled with taxis. We set up at Plantation House, a hostel run by an British expat named Tim and his Colombian wife Cristina. We went out for a local meal- rice, beans, avocado, salad, chorizo, pork, beef, and egg. A great way to settle down (food coma) after a long trip. I want to keep talking about food, but there have been so many great meals that we are going to do a food-focused post at some point, so I’ll hold off… for now.

Salento is so peaceful that it’s hard to put in words. It really did seem the sort of place that was mostly unchanged by time. The town was centered around a small plaza with a church, several restaurants and small stores, a betting parlor, and a police station. Streets continue two or three blocks away from the plaza before dead-ending into the nearby hills and valleys. The whole area was beautifully kept up with vibrantly colored buildings and a welcoming atmosphere. Much of the local economy is supplanted by tourism- the town is dotted with small hotels, artisan’s shops, and restaurants serving trout- the local specialty. Instead of taking over though, tourism provides enough money that the town can still thrive with people living as they have for hundreds of years. You can still see all the local farmers and old men strolling through the plaza wearing their cowboy hats, worn in boots, and with a checked blanket folded over their shoulders. The surrounding hills are incredibly lush, green, and fertile; filled with all sorts of different produce. We got to see the sunset from the top of a hill at Plantation House, relaxing out in hammocks and watching the sky change color.

Sidewalks of Salento, sweet little details

After a day of chilling out we finally got ourselves out to do some real trekking. We are backpacking our way down the Andes, and up till then we’d only done one small hike… shameful. A crew from the hostel banded together to hire a jeep to take us about 12 km away to the nearby Valle de Cocora. From there, we were told that we could set out on about a 5 ½ hour trip. We started the trek deep in a fertile valley with cows, bulls, and horses grazing on the nearby slopes. A friend had called the area “Dr. Seuss land,” because of the surreally tall palm trees, rising into the cloud forest. It was amazing. We were surrounded by 60 meter tall wax palm trees, massive monoliths rising up into the mist. We headed on an upward trail into the forest. The path crossed over rivers and wound its way through the trees, occasionally revealing an incredible vista through a clearing. We made our way to a nature reserve atop a nearby mountain, populated by 6 different types of hummingbirds. It was a beautiful spot and one the best tasting lunches we’ve had, even if it was just bread and cheese. From there we trudged our way up the trail through the mist, leading up to a mountain ranch all the way atop the cloud forest. Absolutely breathtaking, and not just because of the altitude. We made our way back to Cocora on a more level trail, taking us from the conifer forest at the top of the clouds back into the palm forest below. An amazing trek, highly recommended. We finished off the day cooking up a hearty meal and shooting some pool with a couple from Boston taking some time to travel.

x
Finally, we couldn’t leave Coffee Country without touring at least one plantation! Tim and Cristina had purchased a nearby coffee farm a few months back and were working to clear it up and get it to start turning a profit. He took us down to show us the place, which he had bought at a steal for $50,000 from an old Colombian woman he described as “a real battleaxe.” It was a stunning area, stretched over a few steep hills and cliffs. Not only does the farm produce four varieties of Arabica coffee, it also has banana and plantain trees, a bamboo forest, blackberries, strawberries, pineapples, oranges, lemons, herbs, tomatoes, sugarcane, and beautiful tropical flowers called birds of paradise. We were greeted by 5 of their collies as we hiked our way through the farm. Tim showed us the time-tested machines used to take the coffee beans out of their pods and then soak the sugar off the beans. They then placed them on the roof, which has a cover which can be rolled back to allow the sun to dry the beans and get them ready for roasting. They seem to have their hands full getting the place in order, as the previous owner had ignored any maintenance that wasn’t absolutely necessary, and they using only organic methods to clear up the grounds from all the overgrowth. It was an amazing sight though, and Tim’s enthusiasm shone through at every point.

Leaving Salento for the city was tough, even though I was excited by the idea of seeing Bogota. Taking the bus through the mountains, I couldn’t help but think of how lucky we are to be on this trip right now. It’s been about a month since we left, and we’ve seen so many incredible things with so much to go. We’ve met so many amazing people along the way, both travelers and locals. We do miss our family and friends at home though, so I encourage anyone that wants to come visit to send us an email and come meet up with us someplace!

Last Impressions and Dancing Midgets…

2008-09-29T19:26:00.000-05:00

So did the title grab your attention? As interesting and comfortable a city as Medellin is, we’ve decided to move on. It’s time to get outdoors and see some mountains, explore coffee country (where Colombia’s best known legal export is grown), and eventually land further east in Bogota. We plan on settling down eventually but as of now, Megan and I still have the itch to keep moving.

In anticipation of our takeoff, we took a last couple of strolls through the city. We’ve been most impressed by the new public facilities. We saw the Biblioteca de España up in the poor barrios, and since then found other amazing parks. Each one is full of unique art and architecture, spaces that make you think as you walk through. They are all full of people: young couples, school groups, older people walking about, and tons of kids. There are public exhortations to keep the areas clean and safe, to make sure that past violence can never return to the city. It’s been an interesting and educational time here, and we are leaving this magnificent city inspired and full of praise.

So why midgets? No really, WHY???? We’d been told that before we left Medellin, we had to go check out a discoteca called Mango’s. It was supposed to have fascinating decoration, entertainment, and yes, midgets. Obviously, we decided we couldn’t pass it up. We went out Saturday night to see what it was all about. Dazed, we gathered that the main themes were a hodgepodge of incredibly off color Wild West and Oktoberfest, with a bit of Christmas flare thrown in for good measure. We will have to let the pictures do the talking, plus a surprise at the end of the post.

(one of many interesting performances on stage)

(no idea... really, no idea)

(safari elements too?)

(apparently, they missed the memo)

(horse heads=bathroom faucets)

(again, they missed the memo)

(finally, dancing midgets)
(why?)

And finally, the video version: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jnQCC-qhapg *
*Do not watch if you have any objection to dancers in lederhosen or dancing midgets. (midgets at 1:20 seconds)

Beautiful views and a reminder that we need a bit more exercise...

2008-09-27T19:22:00.000-05:00

We took a day trip to the beautiful town of Guatapé, about two hours from Medellin. Nearby there is a massive limstone rock called El Peñol. The monolith is an eyesore itself, but the top provides 360 degree views of the beautiful lakes and green hills that surround it. We trudged our way up the 649 steps, stopping only a couple of time... Not sure that we can still blame the altitude for our struggles, we need to get outside more! It was completely worth it though. Afterwards, we crammed into a barely functional car to make our way to town, where we refueled with a wonderfully overflowing plate of local cuisine.

(local wildlife)

Uplifting Education

2008-09-27T18:45:00.001-05:00

We traveled by cable car up over the comunas, neighborhoods sprawled on the mountains surrounding Medellin. The ride up brings you to a neighborhood called Santo Domingo. At the top aside from the spectacular view there is an incredible library. Called the Biblioteca de España, it is one of multiple library and public education projects enacted by the Mayor of Medellin. The prize winning structure is composed of three parts, massive blocks made from brown stone that gives off an alternating organic feel and metallic sheen. The main block is 8 stories tall and filled with reading, activity, and computer rooms. A large part of the library is dedicated towards literacy promotion for kids. It's an admirable goal, as the comunas surrounding the library are the low income neighborhoods with residents who have had limited access to education and other opportunities.

What To Do When The Rain Keeps You Inside?

2008-09-22T15:09:00.000-05:00

We are safely in Medellin. It’s been a while since we last posted, so we just wanted to update you on our status. We are currently mellowing out on Sunday night, not much different from everyone else- except of course, those restaurant folks who may have just finished running all night and are starting some sidework.

We took an icebox from Cartagena to Medellin. They called it a bus, but I’m convinced there must have been something that needed to stay frozen on board. Perhaps it’s best not to inquire too closely into these things, but there’s no other explanation. Other than the temperature though, the ride down wasn’t bad. As a safety measure, on our bus there was a digital display screen posted at the front so that the whole bus could see how fast we were going. Here, where I’m pretty sure everyone is training for Formula 1 or Nascar, this seems logical. Every time our bus exceeded 80 km/hr, the box started up with an obnoxious beeping sound. Our bus driver must have been equally bothered, because within a half hour of departure, the display showed 0 km/hr the whole way. And yet we made fantastic time…

On our way in to Medellin, we could see how dramatically different it would be from Cartagena. On that 12 hour drive from the coast we went from the dripping hot and humid tropics to the cool mountains, to a city where they say it’s always spring. The scenery on the way in is amazing… dramatic hills, drastic ravines, mist filled valleys, and some of the most lush and green country imaginable. The city is much bigger than Cartagena or DC. Although it’s surrounded on all sides by mountains covered in barrios expanding out from the city, the center seems to be more or less on a plateau. It’s also incredibly modern- much has been built up since Pablo Escobar’s death in 1993. There is a mandate that any major building must be accompanied by public art and a fantastic metro system that runs throughout the downtown and into the northern and southern expanses of the city. We are currently staying in a hostel south of the center, in a mostly upscale residential barrio called El Poblado. Our proximity to most of the cities nightlife along with the interesting mix of people we’ve met can make it hard to get up and explore in the mornings!

Our first night in town, we got to hear about Medellin and Antioquia (the province that Medellin is the capital of) from a local polyglot named Carlos, who lives down the street but comes to the hostel to hang out. According to him most of Colombia was colonized by the Castilians. They represented Spain’s leadership, and brought to the colonial world a system of class division. The mostly white ruling class was the richest, with the mestizos below them, and the indigenous people even further down the totem pole. This division could be seen from the capital, Bogota, to the coastal plantations worked by African slaves. Carlos explained that Medellin was different from its founding. Spanish colonizers came from the Pais Vasco, Galicia, Extremadura, and Asturias. The city they founded was a base for smaller farming and ranching communities, which allowed for better cooperation and a more egalitarian society. He said that this is the root of Medellin’s open and warm culture today. This culture along with our (brief) exploration of the city has struck a chord with us, and may keep us here a while.

We have spent some of our time here just relaxing a bit- sightseeing every day can be too much! We also have yet to adapt to the pouring rain that surprises us throughout the day. Ah, the rainy season… It’s made it tough to explore, much less bring a camera around. The last time we tried, we had to run from our hostel to the metro to beat the downpour. Upon our arrival downtown, we sat in the metro station for a half hour waiting for a respite to venture out into. At least in the station there was fascinating people watching to keep us entertained. The rain finally slowed to the point that we felt able to venture out, trying to keep close to shelter. Right outside the station was a plaza full of Botero sculptures- oddly proportioned, often huge bronze images of people and animals.

We ducked into the nearby Museo de Antioquia, right off the plaza. It has an incredible collection of Botero paintings and sculptures, as well as a collection of modern work. They are currently running an exhibit on people that have been displaced by conflict throughout the world. It was one of the heaviest and most sobering exhibits we’ve ever seen. In the years of Colombia’s recent conflict more than 14,000 people have disappeared and millions have been displaced from their homes. There is a room with thousands of glass teardrops hanging from the ceiling, where people can write their own displacement stories and trade them for one of the teardrops in the room. Two of them read (translated):

“One day a group of soldiers came to my home while we were eating and forced us to get our things and leave. Our family now lives here in Medellin.”

“I am sorry for my actions for the time that I worked with the AUC, when I contributed to the displacement of over 150 people from their homes.”

There are stories from people all over the world represented. Other rooms tell stories of people from Sierra Leone, Rwanda, and other places. One exhibit replicates what happens to the earth when it is fumigated to prevent Coca production. No coca leaves or anything else will grow for years afterwards. I think that Megan and I were both most impressed by a photography exhibit by Semana magazine. A photographer traveled to cities and towns throughout Colombia. These were once sites of mass displacements, murders, bombings, and more. His colorful vibrant images show the renewed life in these places now, juxtaposed with an image of past tragedy.

I don’t mean to leave everyone on such a dark note, but what we learned was important to us and we wanted to share it.
(image from Museo de Antioquia website)

Our Encounter With Middle Earth

2008-09-16T17:22:00.001-05:00

Have you ever imagined submerging your whole body into a mud bath? Given the opportunity the other day, we decided we couldn’t say no. We succumbed to our inner tourist and signed up for a day trip to the nearby Volcan Totumo, about 50 km north of Cartagena.

We took off early in the morning in a minibus full of fellow gringo backpackers. Our tour guide, Nelly, give us a mixed English and Spanish presentation, informing us that the volcano is over 2500 meters deep and 25 meters high, and the mud is full of minerals that are good for one’s health. When we arrived, we were told to strip down to our “bikinis” (I suppose men’s trunks are included?). The ¨volcano¨ appeared to be a mountain of earth, steeply rising out of the ground, and we were told to climb the steep stairs up. At the top, where one would picture lava flowing out of a volcano, there was a ladder leading down into a gray pool of mud with a couple of people floating inside.

We climbed down and dropped in. It was so dense that it kept us floating near the surface, like an anti-gravity chamber. Without pushing off from the side we were unable to move our own bodies; so we were told to lay flat on our backs and then pushed across the pool by one of the assistants. He grabbed our feet, gave us a shove, and we glided to the other side of the pool. There were a couple more locals waiting there to make sure you were thoroughly covered in mud and give a brief massage. We then sat, floated, and bobbed our way around, looking like creatures out of 1960’s horror film. We were among the first to arrive, but the pool quickly filled as a busload of Venezuelans made their way in as well. A few guys sat up top, shooting photos of everyone as they flailed about, until we finally climbed out from the pool.

We dripped our way down to a nearby lake, where we were told we could wash off, and a few women were waiting to help dump water on everyone with their buckets to assist the cleaning process. Megan (perhaps wisely) declined the assistance, but I figured that as long as we were doing the tourist bit, I might as well go the whole way. After a series of buckets of water were dumped in my face to remove the caked mud, one woman told me to hand her my shorts, so she could rinse them out as well. Not wearing anything underneath, I declined, saying that I was fine. “No, I can do it myself, it’s okay…” Barely were the words out of my mouth when she gave my shorts a tug, pulling them straight off and leaving me bare ass naked in the lake, trying to stay below water. Megan sat giggling nearby with a group of our fellow travelers… Thanks babe. The redness in my face may have been slightly dulled by my tan as I got my shorts back and rejoined the group to head back to the bus. We stopped for a seaside lunch on the way home, hearing everyone’s stories from where they’d been, and getting some travel advice for our upcoming days.

We are soon headed out to Medellin. We´ll post again in a couple of days, and we’ll let everyone know our whereabouts and new (mis)adventures.

Ah, the Caribbean. White sand, blue water… Paradise?

2008-09-14T22:29:00.000-05:00

We just got back from a few days at Playa Blanca, a beautiful and mostly undeveloped beach on the Isla de Barú, near Cartagena. Sound amazing? We thought so.

We arrived early last Tuesday. We left our hostel to catch one of the early morning ‘lanchas’ from the main market in Cartagena. It’s so removed from the tourist district that seconds after stepping out of the taxi someone ran over. “Playa Blanca? My boat, Por aquí.” Instructed by Consuela from Casa Vienna, we negotiated our fare right away and tried to be certain that we paid the captain of the boat. Good advice, as we watched the Argentine couple next to us argue and argue, as they had paid one of the captain’s “helpers.” Once we crowded enough people on that a couple of locals simply stood on the bow holding on, we took off. 50 minutes later, we pulled up to a pristine shore.

We climbed over the side of the boat and jumped into the water to wade our way ashore. The beach was stunning. We declined offers for hammocks and tents upon arrival and made our way to a recommended spot run by a Frenchman named Gilbert. He was away in Cartagena but his assistant Jorge set us up with hammocks and coffee. Perfect. (Gilbert later turned out to be a crazy, try to convince people that the world is 6,000 years old and there has never been evolution kind of guy- I guess it’s not just the US. He was friendly though). We changed, grabbed our snorkels, and hit the beach. There are amazing reefs right there, teeming with fish and full of color. Megan and I even had little fish that loved the colors on our swimsuits follow us as we swam. Sitting on the beach we were propositioned by sellers of massages, fruit, jewelry, stone trinkets, drugs, snorkels, shrimp, oysters, ice cream, lobster, and more… In a place without electricity and where the only fresh water arrives by boat delivery each morning, plenty of people giving capitalism their all!

The bugs were bad. Mosquitoes and sandflies, worse than any we’d encountered so far. We spent much of the day reapplying both DEET and sunscreen. We later set up mosquito nets over our hammocks, dined on some fresh fish, and turned in. Boom! Time again for the sky to open up. We had alternate hammocks set up, in case the shelter above us failed to cover us, and tried to sleep through it all. We made it through the night; but between the storm, a hammock collapse, and the bugs waiting for us to move our nets, we were ready for a change. There was an incredibly helpful Catalan named Carmen that we met the next morning, and she set us up with a room attached to her restaurant. We enjoyed the beach, dodged more solicitations, along with ‘regalos’ of partial massages, so we would purchase one later. We finally agreed to try one out the next day (definitely relaxing, as promised), and then spent a good portion of the afternoon talking to a Mohawk headed local named Andres, who told us to always set prices ahead of time to avoid being scammed. He was trying to sell his work, beautiful stone carvings and jewelry, but we also talked through his own ideas of tourism and about what was good for the local area as well. He had a lot to say about how the government severely neglected public education, particularly on the university level. It was some of the first criticism we’ve heard about Uribe. Andres was part of the group of locals from a pueblo called Santana that came a two-hour walk every day to the beach to sell their goods. September is the off-season: hotter, more humid, little breeze, and more bugs. This means that there were more hawkers on the beach than actual tourists, making “No, gracias” the most commonly spoken words of the day. Megan says that touristy beaches like Bali in Indonesia or Ipanema and Copacabana in Brazil are even worse… No, gracias. We agreed to meet Andres the next morning to buy a bit of jewelry and go snorkeling. We turned in for the night, thinking that our new accommodations should be more comfortable. Man, were we wrong. When the breeze died (faithfully, every evening), it felt like trying to fall asleep in a sauna. The thing about the sauna is that if you opened the door, the mosquitos and sandflies were just waiting outside to eat through your flesh. So we alternated between covering ourselves in DEET to step outside (you come to love its burning sensation on your skin), and trying to catch some shuteye after cooling down.

We bought some of Andres’s work in the morning, and then headed out for some truly amazing snorkeling. We saw puffer fish, clownfish, octopus, squid, crabs, rays, and all kinds of colorful aquatic life. We spent the rest of the day reading, napping in the shade, and saying “no, gracias.” After dinner, we decided to tally up our remaining funds- we had only brought a limited amount for the few days at the beach. We knew that we needed 35,000 pesos to get ourselves back to Cartagena… So we emptied our pockets and counted our remaining money. 27,000 pesos? Damn. I emptied the pockets of the shorts I had worn for the trip over- there’s some cash… New total: 29,020 pesos. Damn. Damn. Damn. Now it seems funny, but being trapped on a beach in a middle of nowhere is actually about as far from relaxing as you can get. Luckily, Carmen told us of a cruise boat the next afternoon that would pass by the next afternoon that would take us for 20,000. That left us 9,020: 5,000 for the taxi in Cartagena, 4,000 for a bottle of water the next day, and 20 left (about a penny).

Another restless night, made more so by the recent turn of events. Ah, and I forgot to mention before, since the first night we had heard strange sounds and seen figures moving through the darkness. While cooling off during our first night at Carmen’s place, we started to hear the sounds again. All of sudden, two dozen cattle made their way around us in our beach chairs, mooing and nearly trampling a tent of Spanish girls sleeping nearby. Still in shock, we saw something else approaching. About ten donkeys were trotting along the beach, following the same path as the cattle. They woke us again that night, but at least we knew what they were. And, we figured out why there were giant piles of cow shit distributed around the area. It’s nice to have answers.

The next day we replaced “no, gracias,” with “no, I can’t buy anything, I can’t even afford food today.” It’s an incredibly beautiful beach, but we were done. Luckily, Carmen set us up perfectly to hop a boat in the afternoon. We pulled into Cartagena close enough to Getsemani that we could skip the taxi. We went straight for a couple of ‘arepas’ to tide us over until dinner (delicious, butter drenched corn tortillas, cooked on a flat grill, then sliced open and filled with cheese). Casa Vienna was full but we got set up down the street with the Hotel Marlin, with much nicer facilities but the same price. I’ve loved taking a shower before (see: getting back from Bonnaroo), but this might have been the best one ever. Wonderful, precious, cold, fresh water pouring all over me. So incredibly happy. We splurged on a big dinner. Megan got a giant plate of chicken and rice, with delicious spices and lime, and I got the ‘tipico montañero.’ It was a wonderful plate, with rice, potatoes, beans, salad, a fried egg, ground beef, chorizo, and a big slab of pork that looked like it was cut from the ribs down to the underbelly, where bacon comes from. Mmmmmm… Again, so incredibly happy.

The past few days have made us mull over our future plans. Where are we going to end up? After Colombia, will we go to Venezuela or Ecuador? What are we going to do? Megan wants to do some language school, we both are looking into volunteering options, we might stop at a farm to work for a while, and I might try and find an English language paper to write for someplace. We worked and planned, but after setting foot on the ground it’s like everything we knew got thrown into a new context. We originally thought we would fall in love with Cartagena and want to be here for a couple of months, but it hasn’t happened. It is a beautiful city, with incredible history and plenty to see, but we don’t see it as the place for us. It attracts so much tourism that it’s an expensive place to stay, and at this point we are looking for something else. We have a couple more sights to see around here, but in a couple of days I think we are headed down to Medellin. It has a different but fascinating history, is slightly bigger, close to mountains, and thankfully lacks the sweltering heat and humidity. We’re packing up the snorkels, DEET, and sunscreen for now.

“Buenas, Jovencito!”

2008-09-08T23:50:00.000-05:00

What a place for learning experiences… We just wanted to offer a few observations from the past few days and put up some photos for you guys.

In my first post, I said that neither Megan nor I carried a clock… We lied. As a matter of fact, we had a travel clock tucked somewhere away in my bag, plus of course, this computer. The nice thing about not having a schedule is that it took until last night for us to realize that there actually was a time zone change for us down here! I don’t know how we missed that information ahead of time. Apparently, we actually are an hour back from East Coast time here. Doesn’t seem like that much of a difference, but it does explain why when we went out for dinner at “8:30 pm,” it still seemed like no one was out, that it was too early. Or why, even though we are sleeping in a hostel, no one seemed to be getting up before noon. Things are starting to click now... Ah, blissful oblivion. Luckily, we figured it out before we had to catch a boat or a bus anywhere!

In pretty much any place that we sit down to order a beer, Megan gets a glass or a cup for hers, while I just get the bottle. The only exception to this is if we head to a really swanky joint, places that cater only to the people who can afford it. And in our experience with that so far, those places are so focused on having identical, ideal service, that they lose all personality. Picture a place like TGI Fridays or the Cheesecake factory, where every statement comes out of the employee manual. Dress it up nicely, have beautiful Caribbean girls serving the drinks (who say nothing except recite the ‘by the book’ response), and that’s what you’ve got. Beautiful atmosphere, but it makes me feel like I’m in some creepy Gattaca inspired world, where everything is identical. No thanks, I’ll stick to what is by and far the norm: places where Megan gets a cup (or glass) for her beer, and I drink mine from the bottle. Because hey, she’s a lady, and ladies want to drink out of a glass, right?

Tropical thunderstorms are intense! This may seem obvious, but we had a storm last night that blew my mind. I can’t remember being so terrified by thunder ever before, even when I was a little kid. Even though I knew it was coming, it still made me jump up in the air! I thought the whole sky had just opened up, an incredible deluge from the heavens… The center of our hostel is open to the sky, but is designed so that all water should drain outside. Last night, the rain flooded all the drains and began to come down like a waterfall into the central hallway. I moved all our bags just in case the water rose to the level of the rooms. The storm killed the power till morning, which killed the fan, our only source of relief from the intense heat and humidity. Without that relief, your body just melds to everything it touches. Our choices were either to suffocate and be forever a part of the hostel furniture; or to open the windows and doors to both fresh air and mosquitoes, which hunt down exposed flesh like the monsters you always imagined were hidden in the darkness. We opted for open windows and covering ourselves in DNA altering bug spray. Just another day in paradise, right?

On the sightseeing front, we’ve been exploring the city a bit more lately. It really is beautiful, and we’ve got some cool photos for you to see. There is so much to the place. It spreads out further than we thought, and has amazing diversity. There are so many people, most of whom are incredibly friendly. Walking through some places we draw silence and stares, but if we smile and say “buenos dias,” or “buenas tardes,” we often get huge smiles, and an enthusiastic response (like the “buenas, jovencito!” that titles this post). There are a lot of dynamics going on here though, and we’ve barely scratched the surface. Last night we saw some of the most beautiful neighborhoods that I’ve ever walked through, including one of the nicest hotels/restaurants I’ve ever seen. If I ever strike it rich, you can find me at the Santa Clara in Cartagena. However, walking home it really is just 10 seconds and a few meters before you are in a totally different part of town, where people are desperate, and you have to stay aware and in populated areas. It keeps you thinking.

We couldn´t believe this guy planned on turning his carraige into the highway...

He made it!

Today we checked out the main fortress that was built to guard Cartagena in the old days, Castillo San Felipe de Barajas. It’s incredible. Amazing vistas of the area, huge stone walls, up to 15 meters thick, a network of subterranean tunnels around the castle and even leading to the city… really amazing. To get into it though, we had to get past one of the most persistent groups of hawkers of all kinds of stuff that we’ve encountered yet. “Take this hat, you need it for the sun, it’s cheaper than a doctor later on in life!” “Buy some water, you’ll need it, the Spanish didn’t leave provisions when they abandoned this spot!” I don’t mind all of that so much, as long as you leave me alone after I explain that I came with water and sunscreen, I didn’t just blindly roll out of a cave and decide to go sightseeing today. However, I don’t appreciate the security guard telling me “You have to get a guide. If not, you won’t learn anything and you will waste your time.” No thanks dude. We came to relax, explore, get some great views, and take pictures. I don’t want to follow a tour of 30 people around. Plus, if you are security, why are you even involved here? Not cool. Once we got past all of that (I would rather have tried to scale the walls), it was amazing. We were really happy that we did it our way.

We’ll be out of touch for the next few days. It’s about time we dip our toes in the Caribbean and sleep in hammocks I think. We’ll take pictures though, and report back soon!

(P.S. Sorry we didn´t put this post up earlier. We were going to, then had a little difficulty with internet access... We´ll have pictures and a post from the beach soon!)

We made it!

2008-09-07T13:28:00.000-05:00

Well, we made it. Megan and I arrived in Cartagena around 4 pm (I believe, although neither of us carries a clock). As the plane landed, there was a scattered ovation- something I’ve heard before, but a reminder that we took off in one world and landed in another. Coming in across the Caribbean, we realized the city was smaller than we had thought. It looked exactly like the Google Earth image that we’ve studied time and time again, but I guess we just thought it was bigger. As our plane landed 3 km north of the city, we realized that it spread out farther, but just in smaller buildings. We stepped off the plane, and felt the tropical air around us… hot and humid, for sure, but not overwhelming.

We made our way through customs, collected our bags, successfully avoided the creepy gringo named Don that had approached us earlier, and then caught our own cab to the city. Our driver gave us some background on the area. He explained the layout of the ‘barrios’ that make up the city. We landed in Crespo, drove through Cabrero on our way in, and were headed to the old city, the Centro Antiguo, composed of the barrios Getsemani and San Diego. Both date back to the Spanish colonization… the rich people settled in San Diego, and filled it with beautiful buildings and churches. Getsemani was the lower income area, filled with markets and small shops; settled by the African slaves that the Europeans brought. The Centro Antiguo is still the heart of Cartagena, with San Diego being the much more upscale area, and Getsemani being the lower income, shadier, more ‘authentic’ neighborhood. There are two modern, expensive neighborhoods, Bocagrande and El Laguito; which are located down the coast, although people say they lack character. On our backpacker budget, we headed straight for a place called Casa Vienna in Getsemani. Despite the place’s apparent popularity, we were able to get a room without any problem. It’s a great spot, different colorful rooms all crammed together in a small area, full of people from all over. There are a bunch of cats prowling about- we found a little grey and white kitten trying to swipe under a door that had just closed. They even keep fresh coffee for everyone throughout the day!

So finally, we are here. We’ve worked our asses off over the past months, saved like crazy, organized ourselves and prepared for the trip in every way possible. We said our goodbyes, made it to the airport by 4:15 in the morning, caught the flight and made our transfer (despite a bit of confusion about getting our bags checked all the way through). We got a place to stay, unpacked, showered, and sat down. Months and months of preparation and work to get us down to South America, so we would be able to travel, explore, and experience life. We got engaged shortly before we left, making this trip an incredible start in our lives together. So now, here and started, we face a new dilemma… what do we do now?

We set off to explore this beautiful city. We knew it was beautiful by reputation. It’s definitely chaotic like any big Latin city, full of people running around, music playing, cars honking. As we walked around, we were stunned by how it really is.... so colorful, such beautiful buildings, so warm, so alive. You can hear so many times about old cobblestone streets and alleys, with colonial architecture, surrounded by old stone walls, on the Caribbean sea, and it sounds amazing. But when it all comes to life… it’s hard to get it at first, and then it just washes over you. We were in awe walking the streets, seeing dancers and hearing music, smelling the sea and the food. Much of the city caters to tourism, but it still has a life of its own, it’s not just some tourist Disneyland.

We followed the music into a square, the center full of performers. There were huge drums, pounding some beat that sounded Latin, Caribbean, and African, incredibly fast and alive. There were dancers, colorfully dressed, but pounding their feet and whirling their bodies, throwing themselves along with the music. You could feel the life and the energy just pulsing through the area. We sat down at a nearby café, to do a taste test of the locally available beers (purely scientific). Sitting down, hearing the beating drums, seeing people so full of life… The setting itself was perfect. We were sitting at the entranceway to a building, with the roof above us but just columns and arches between us and the square. The center area was full of dancers, surrounded by huge old trees and tropical plants. It’s a place that is different in so many ways, but it felt so perfect and right to be there at that moment.

9/5/08

(click for full image)