tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44915827393993410652024-03-13T10:18:32.235-07:00“The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page.” - St AugustineAnitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15626168590750165296noreply@blogger.comBlogger63125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4491582739399341065.post-38650494418449761832010-04-29T16:36:00.000-07:002010-07-27T14:26:15.035-07:00Thailand Part IV: Diving<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Friends (written yesterday)<br />
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Pics are up!<br />
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<a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/anitalgray/ThailandBeachesAndDivingApril2010#" target="_blank">http://picasaweb.google.com/<wbr></wbr>anitalgray/<wbr></wbr>ThailandBeachesAndDivingApril2<wbr></wbr>010#</a><br />
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I've also uploaded a bunch of videos as well from the entire trip:<br />
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<a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/anitalgray/MoviesFromThailandCambodiaAndNepal#" target="_blank">http://picasaweb.google.com/<wbr></wbr>anitalgray/<wbr></wbr>MoviesFromThailandCambodiaAndN<wbr></wbr>epal#</a><br />
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So I made it back to the States, and right now I am curled up on the sofa at my friend Jessica's house in Berkeley as she is trying to get her 9 month old baby down for a nap. I'm trying hard to tell my body that its not the middle of the night, so finishing off my blog before I head to the airport for my flight to Seattle made a lot of sense.</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
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So I left you on the afternoon in Phuket when I was on cloud nine because not only had I found a liveaboard boat to go diving on, but Mark was able to come with me too! After giddily packing and storing my larger bag, I raced back to the dive shop in time for our transfer north to meet the boat. I met Mark there, and I was overwhelmed with a sense of relief...I didn't want to let myself believe that he was going to come along until I actually saw him there. He was grinning from ear to ear, as was I, we were both just dumbfounded by the number of things that had to line up in order for this to happen. Plus, we'd both gotten such a good last-minute price that we felt almost guilty, especially since we were essentially kicking one of the dive guides out of his cabin. I was especially glad for Mark to get to see the Similan Islands before the season ended, but also just for him to experience some fun diving after having dived for "work" so much lately. </span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;">The drive was a good couple of hours and Mark and I talked and kissed like honeymooners. Some of the new group asked him how we knew each other, and after he mentioned we'd only met a few days ago, they looked at us incredulously. I really admire Mark's directness, he is direct the way I am direct. I think that's what immediately attracted me to him, especially when you consider his approach that day on the beach. He is also wickedly funny, and great to talk to. In the evenings on the boat, we'd often just lie on the bed listening to Mark's music and tell each other stories...he'd have me in stitches. We both share the notion of a "traditional" life being extremely overrated- I really admire his ability to set his mind to wanting to do something (like learn to dive and go straight to a divemaster qualification during four months in Thailand) that others would scoff at, and just go do it. I am very similar and I think subsequently we understood one another.<br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;">The boat itself was quite sizable- 3 decks and about 7 separate living cabins. The first deck housed living areas, kitchen, and dive equipment. Below deck was more cabins and then the second deck had a dining/living area, captain's area, and our cabin. We got really lucky- every other cabin you simply walked inside and you were immediately met by 2 bunk beds. Our cabin was far more spacious and housed a double bed. We jumped on it like children when we first walked in. The upper deck was a large sunning deck. </span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;">I was going to have a really good time. I kept thinking about the SNL skit "I'm on a boat" and smiling.<br />
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</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;">That evening we set sail after a really good dinner where we chatted with and got to know the other divers- from 13 different countries in total. We were warned that the crossing to the Similans might be a little rough, so I took some seasickness pills. </span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;">They weren't kidding, after a few hours the boat was rocking so hard that I had to lie down, and was eventually able to sleep.</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;">The trip consisted of 3 full days at sea where we completed 4 dives a day. On the last morning we'd do 2 dives before heading back to Phuket. I've never done more than 2 dives in one day, so I had some trepidations at how I might react or feel at the end of that many dives. Not that there wasn't enough surface intervals to have much risk of decompression sickness, but still, I was wondering whether it would take it out of me.</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;">Well, we soon fell into a rhythm with the schedule. Which I'm sure you'll all agree was extremely stressful. Wake up around 7:30am for coffee and a dive briefing. First dive then a delicious breakfast like banana pancakes and scrambled eggs. Then an hour to sunbathe, read, or nap and our second morning dive followed by an enormous lunch. Follow that with a delicious nap and our third dive of the day. Then the highlight (of my day) was afternoon tea and CAKE followed by either a sunset dive at 5pm or a night dive at 7pm. Then dinner and an evening to socialize, read, chill to music, or sleep.</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;">Sounds difficult, no? It was.....;-)</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;">I certainly didn't get bored with the dives themselves. In fact, the more I dove (is it dove or dived?) the more I wanted to dive. It had a cumulative effect on me. And I LOVED diving with Mark. Besides the coral being superb, fish being colorful and the water crystal clear, a dive can be often dictated by your dive buddy. Many of the other divers on the trip were photographers and/or the kind of divers who will patiently wait in a line 6 or 7 divers long to get a quick look at a tiny seahorse. Mark and I are both not like that. We like to explore, really swim, and not linger anywhere for too long. I really appreciated that about having him as a partner underwater. Our styles meshed. Also, since he was practically a divemaster, we were given permission to separate from the group and do our own thing. Which usually had us separating from the other divers from the very descent and discovering that we'd covered quite some ground by the time our 50 min/ 50 bar limit was reached. We would often surface and think "Where is the boat?" and it inevitably had to come quite a way to pick us up!</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;">I really love that feeling that I first get in the pit of my stomach as I look at my buddy after we've first jumped in the water and acknowledge that all is OK and I'm ready to descend. Its such a magical feeling - to know that you're leaving the world as we know it, and are about to enter the whole other world of this planet's water. I especially enjoy it right at that moment when the water passes over the level of your mask and you first have to clear your ears to equalize. Then you know its game on. I had to be careful to descend slowly, my ears did present some trouble to me over the course of the five days...I think I was still very congested after my Khumbu cough. And Mark would always float down head first, kicking his way to greater depths where I preferred to just float down nice and easy with my feet first.</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;">I thought about Jennifer a lot on the first few dives. Then I became a lot more confident until not even the night dive unnerved me. </span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;">We saw some incredible sea life. We saw moray eels, manta rays, leopard sharks, octopus, as well as a huge variety of fish and coral. My favorite moment was on a dive where Mark and I had typically swam away from the group. We were observing an octopus that had settled on the sea floor and were waiting for it to move again. We were shoulder to shoulder when Mark looked up for a second and then grabbed me fiercely and turned me around to look out towards the "big blue beyond". In that moment a huge manta ray swam up and over our heads, so close it took my breath away (well, not literally because its really bad to not breathe continually underwater). I think I said "Jesus F$#^&ing Christ" into my regulator. We were super excited and couldn't help but gloat about it afterwards on the boat, much to the chagrin of the other divers who hadn't seen it. Some even suggested that perhaps we were mistaken, and since neither of us had a camera, maybe we were making it up? Whatever! They were just jealous.</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;">The night dive was really fun- and it was Mark's first. Once it was really dark out and we were relying entirely on our flashlights to see underwater, I was mesmerized by the color of the water as the light from the bottom of the boat shone down into the blue underneath. It reminded me a little of diving in the cenotes of Mexico, with different shades of sapphire. So utterly beautiful. </span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;">So after four days of diving, I still really hadn't had enough. It was a little exhausting- by the time dinner was served each night I was pretty pooped and I slept pretty well. I was, however, ready to get back to some air-conditioning. We were both so tired of dripping with sweat 24/7. It wears after a while. I missed the last dive on day 4 as I wanted to have a full 24 hour window left before my flight to Bangkok in the morning. On the night of the 3rd day, the crew informed us that the compressors had broken and so we'd be pulling into a port for the evening. We were all happy for the chance to get on dry land and walked around for a few hours, getting ice cream at the 7-Eleven. Some members of the group had a little too much rum and were hard pressed to get back in the water in the morning...</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;">The following day we returned to Phuket pretty early, around 3:30pm. Mark and I said a quick farewell while I went back to my hotel to collect my bags, but it turned out that Mark's sister was back in town and he spent the evening with her. Sadly, I didn't getting the chance to say goodbye, but I have a feeling that I'll see him again someday.</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;">I was super wiped out by the time I got back to my room. I was supposed to meet up with Allison, my friend from Cali and Semester at Sea that evening. So I showered and packed for tomorrow then waited to hear from her via Facebook... Not hearing from her, I headed out to do some last minute shopping and ended up grabbing a movie for some delightful air-conditioning. Someone who I didn't recognize had written on my wall that evening, and it wasn't until around 10pm that night that I realized it was Allison's friend giving me info on when and how to meet up with them. Was sad about that, but by 10 I was absolutely spent and crashed out pretty hard.</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;">The next morning, I grabbed a cab about 8:30 am to the airport and began my long journey home. I had a four hour layover in Bangkok and a five hour layover in Hong Kong. I finished my book on Buddhism and began reading "Then they killed my father" - a memoir about the Cambodian genocide of the 70's...not exactly cheerful reading, but gripping nonetheless. Long journeys always make me feel a bit lonely and this was no exception, plus I was missing Mark. Soon, I knew, I'd be in a "different world" in all senses of the world. </span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;">And so I am.</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;">I will try to write an epilogue of sorts when I get back home tomorrow. In the meantime, I hope you've enjoyed reading my stories as much as I've enjoyed writing them!</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;">Much love,</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;">Anita</span></div>Anitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15626168590750165296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4491582739399341065.post-15647416619185399662010-04-27T13:00:00.000-07:002010-07-27T14:26:15.036-07:00Thailand Part III: Beaches<div>Friends,</div> <div> </div> <div>I'm sitting at the airport in Bangkok (God do I know this airport well by now!) and with some free time before my flights Stateside, I think I'll take the opportunity to write about my last week in Thailand before I get home and "normality" sets in and the memories are not as fresh.</div> <div><br /><br /></div> <div>I've had an incredible end to my nearly two month sojourn. When I was trekking in the Himalayas, I couldn't imagine being back in the heat of Thailand, but that fact hit me all too abruptly when I flew all the way from Lukla to Phuket in one day... I left you last in my hotel room in Phuket town (strangely, my guidebook recommended making the city center a "base" - an idea which is very flawed indeed). After a long needed sleep, I checked out of my room, stored my bags and set out into Phuket Town with the idea of finding a dive shop to discuss liveaboard options to the Similan Islands.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />Unfortunately, Phuket town is not exactly a tourist hub, and it took me a frustrating hour just to find someone to do my laundry! After walking for what seemed like hours, I found a small travel agency who explained to me that I might find what I'm looking for with Similan Pro Dive, but that there office was far away. He offered to take me there in his car, which was extremely kind of him. So, off I set and happily chatted with the dive staff at their shop. Not wanting to commit to their 2 night/3 day trip right away without shopping a little, I accepted their kind offer to drop me off at the bus stop to catch a public bus to Patong Beach, where many more dive shops were located. After a quick bite to eat, I found myself in Patong and quickly realized that this was the main tourist hub of Phuket!</div> <div> </div> <div><br />After chatting with several dive shops, I settled on an incredible 4 night/5 day liveaboard with Eden Divers for the insanely good price of 14,000 baht including 16 dives and equipment! It didn't leave for another two days, so I decided to go to Ko Phi Phi in the morning for one night and then return in time to catch the boat heading to the Similan Island, Ko Ban, and Richelieu Rock. I was so excited.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />Having met a couple of Brits on the main beach in Patong who recommended a small new hotel that was cheap in Patong, that evening was spent grabbing a cab to and from Phuket Town to grab my bags and laundry, before checking in to my new digs and packing an overnight bag. I also squeezed in another heavenly Thai massage.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />The next morning a minibus picked me up and transferred me to the ferry dock for the 90 minute crossing to the exquisitely beautiful Phi Phi Island. The water was emerald and the beaches blindingly white. I was excited to arrange a longboat to take me over to Phi Phi Lei in the early morning as I'd heard that the boat trips during the day took you to this famous beach (from the movie "The Beach" with Leonardo Di Caprio) did so along with hundreds of other tourists, which would spoil the ambiance for me, I think. After spending a few minutes wandering around the little town looking for a place to stay, I happened across a sign advertising a camping trip where you got to stay on Maya Beach (The Beach) overnight in a small group and wake up to the sunrise there! I was absolutely sold and giddily excited when I met up with the group of us lucky enough to have figured this out around 3 in the afternoon.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />We had a wonderful crew of people, there was about 13 of us altogether, and the evening turned out to be one of the most memorable on my trip. And this had a lot to do with a certain someone that I met there: Mark. Mark, is a devastatingly gorgeous and fun-loving, 36 yr-old adventurous American/Aussie from Aspen, Co., who had been in Phuket for the last few months completing his DiveMaster training and was going to Ko Phi Phi with his sister and her three girlfriends. We immediately hit it off. In fact, during the first half hour or so that we were on Maya Bay, frantically taking photographs of one another, Mark asked to have a picture taken with me. A little surprised at this stranger's enthusiasm, I agreed, only to be further shocked when he looked at me and said "Why don't we just kiss now and get it over with, as we both know its going to happen sooner or later tonight?" </div> <div> </div> <div><br />I relented ;-) </div> <div> </div> <div><br />And so began my lovely week-long romance in the stunningly romantic setting of the Islands of Thailand's Andaman coast.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />On arrival in the bay, some of us opted to "swim" to shore which was MUCH farther than it first appeared. It ended up being about a 20 minute swim in a strong current, but it didn't matter. That evening was spectacular: to be able to watch all the throngs of tourists leave, having that idyllic setting just for our little group, to be able to watch the sunset, eat dinner, share some drinks, dancing, and fun...and then find a little spot on the sand to sleep - it was amazing. And being able to share that with someone new simply added to the experience. </div> <div> </div> <div><br />It was a little difficult getting to sleep that night- no matter what you were still covered in sand, and sand is actually harder than you'd think to sleep on. But we were rewarded with the incredible bioluminescence washing up on shore during the night, and then a chance to watch the surrounded hills and formations begin to blush pink in the approaching sunlight in the morning.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />The following day Mark and I explored the other side of the island just after breakfast. As we were leaving, we happened upon a blue sea snake that was amazingly out of the water and slithering along the rocks right where we walked. We happily snapped photos. </div> <div> </div> <div><br />All too soon it was time to take the longboat back to the larger boat to Phi Phi Don, unfortunately, the staff had forgotten my overnight backpack and I had to kayak, frantically, back to shore and then back to the boat to retrieve it in time. </div> <div> </div> <div><br />Back on Phi Phi Don, I wandered the narrow streets checking out the island and its many beaches. It was such a hot afternoon that soon all Mark and I could do is sit at a bar and order cold drinks to stave away the heat. I opted to finish writing up my Nepal experience, and then met up with Mark in the delicious cold air con cabin of the boat back to Phuket where we laughed and shared life stories over fruit smoothies.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />I was almost starting to regret my decision to take the 4 day liveaboard...it is just so rare to connect with someone the way Mark and I were, AND while on vaction! However, his sister was planning on doing her PADI Open Water course over the next four days, so Mark had to be there for that. </div> <div> </div> <div><br />On getting back to my hotel, I gathered my bags and went over to the Dive shop. Horror. The owner told me that one of the generators on the boat had blown and that the trip was cancelled. Worse than that, the only other liveaboard boat going to the same destinations with another company was full and wouldn't accept any more customers!</div> <div> </div> <div><br />I was so terribly disappointed, and walked over to Mark's hotel to tell him the news. At least we'd get to spend more time together...so after dinner, Mark took me on a tour of Patong on the back of his moped and I whooped for joy, especially when he rode really fast. I was having a great time, and I was sure I'd sort something else out to do the next day.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />Well, I sure did!!!!!!!!!! The following day I puttered around the resort, did some shopping and checked email. The dive shop was supposed to be looking into other dive trips for me, more than likely a bunch of day trips together. I assumed that Mark was out diving with his sister. Walking by "West Coast Divers" I decided to go inside and just try ONE MORE TIME to see if they'd had a cancellation for their trip that was leaving that night.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />I happened upon the owner of the company and she agreed to let me go, because she was going to give me one of the staff cabins on the boat! I was so excited, but wanted to tell Mark that I wouldn't get to see him again before I left for the States. Since West Coast is where Mark is doing his Dive Master course, I mentioned him to the owner in passing conversation, and she says "Oh, poor Mark...his sister is sick and not doing Open Water anymore" - to which I responded, "Um, can I please use your cell phone?!"</div> <div> </div> <div><br />I called Mark, who confirmed that his sister had changed her mind about the course, and then I told him that West Coast was letting me go on their liveaboard, and did he want to join me since there was space for him too??!! He couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe it. It seemed the stars had aligned for us to go together.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />With only 2 hours to go before the transfer to the boat left Phuket, it was a mad dash about town to get laundry, and get packed. My hotel charged me for a half-night, but I didn't care: I felt like a 10 year old on Christmas Morning. I was going diving for 4 nights and 5 days....and I got to have my very own DiveMaster as a dive buddy!</div> <div> </div> <div><br />Yay me!</div> <div> </div> <div><br />Well, I'm out of time, so I will finish writing about my liveaboard trip till tomorrow.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />Much love,</div> <div> </div> <div>Anita<br /></div>Anitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15626168590750165296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4491582739399341065.post-55952327462439957022010-04-20T23:57:00.001-07:002010-04-21T00:08:18.608-07:00Nepal Part IV: Trek to Everest Base CampFirst of all, the photos are up!!! Here is the link:<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/anitalgray/NepalTrekToMountEverestBaseCampApril2010#" target="_blank">http://picasaweb.google.com/<wbr>anitalgray/<wbr>NepalTrekToMountEverestBaseCam<wbr>pApril2010#</a><br /><br />I write to you from Paradise on Ko Phi Phi Island in the Andaman Sea of Thailand...quite the change of scenery from when I last wrote (indeed from 2 days ago!) It is so strange to be back here, and away from all the people I've been with everyday since March 30th...that I really must write about the finale and trek down from Everest Base Camp before that world becomes clouded over by beaches and emerald green waters.<br /><br /><br />I left you with my climb of Kala Pattar at 18,200 feet with Don, one of the climbers. Most of the other trekkers were tired and/or sick when we arrived at the tiny settlement of Gorak Shep (the highest partly-inhabited settlement in the world at just over 17,000 feet!), but for some reason, I was wired and ready for action, so since Don wanted to do another acclimatization hike, I decided to accompany him. This location reminded me of Moss Isley from the original first Star Wars movie. A band of Sand People and Jawas would not go amiss in this sandy landscape. As it was afternoon, we expected clouds to have gathered over Mt. Everest, obscuring our views...but I whooped like a kid on Christmas Day when 30 minutes into our climb, the clouds parted and unveiled Sagarmatha in all his majesty. We got some incredible shots from this trek, and I was so happy to share this with Don, whom I've developed quite an affection for. He is inspirational: at 65, he is the first total hip replacement recipient to attempt the summit of Everest. And I could not keep up with him on the way up, the man is seriously in good shape! Way to go "SB"!<br /><br /><br />On the top of my highest peak on the trek, we happily took a bunch of pictures as we sat on the very narrow ledge that was literally strewn with prayer flags and rock cairns. We had to be quite careful on the descent, sliding down on our butts :-)<br /><br /><br />The other reason that I climbed Kala Pattar this day instead of the day after Base Camp was that there was still a small chance that I might be allowed to stay the night there and then re-join the trekkers the following day. Joyce, Don's wife, was offered the opportunity as a way of spending more time together before his summit bid, and Joyce was happy to have some company for the descent the next day. Unfortunately, after some very confusing, complicated, and albeit frustrating miscommunication with Alpine, Joyce opted not to stay the night, and as such, I was not permitted to stay either. I was extremely disappointed and could think of little else to wipe the vexation from my heart the following day. <br /><br /><br />Looking back on it now, I feel different. I think that getting the opportunity to see Base Camp was incredible, but perhaps it was best that only climbers stayed and settled in together as a cohesive group. It would have been amazing, but I am thrilled that I didn't get so sick that I was not even able to trek the entire way, as many of the trekkers unfortunately had to turn around days before.<br /><br /><br />Incidentally, I am only now, finally, over my Khumbu cough and cold. I can't remember the last time I had such prolonged symptoms, but I am glad that I waited to go diving until tomorrow, as the amount of congestion I have been suffering with would have made it impossible to equalize pressure in my ears.<br /><br /><br />Don and I made it back just in time for dinner and then I literally collapsed into bed, and had a fitful, breathless sleep before our "big day".<br /><br /><br />It took 3 1/2 more hours of navigating sharp jagged rock and ice to get to base camp, and a little more to reach the space occupied by Alpine Ascents: a prime location directly at the foot of the Khumbu glacier. The sun that day was so bright, that even with glacier glasses, the glare was apparent because my camera often couldn't handle how bright the conditions were. <br /><br /><br />I'd been imagining what base camp would look like for years. For some reason I always imagined approaching it on the right, but in reality you approach from the left. There are hundreds of brightly colored tents that sit on laboriously constructed and flattened rock platforms. Yaks bring in loads but do not stay long enough to create more pollution. Toilets are made in tents, the seat sits over a canister, which is later literally carried out of camp: on the back of a porter!!!! The air is thin, but the atmosphere is heavy with palpable anticipation.<br /><br /><br />The Alpine Ascents camp was incredible- the meal tent was enormous and stocked with all kinds of goodies from the States: Peanut butter, jelly beans, maple syrup, chocolate...and for the afternoon- we were told to eat anything we wanted while the kitchen prepared us a lunch. The kitchen is fully stocked, in fact, the sheer volume of equipment, gear, hardware, oxygen canisters, tents, etc etc is staggering. Its hard to imagine all of it arriving on the back of Yaks.<br /><br /><br />After lunch we took a walk over to the mighty Khumbu Glacier- the most challenging and dangerous part of the climb, leading to Camp I, usually in about 9 hours of walking, unroped, over and up crevasses with the aid of stepladders. We sat and watched, for about an hour, a lone climber making his way down towards us through the ice, and it was really mind-boggling to imagine that there was genuinely a navigable way through this maze. It does not make for an attractive prospect, for me at least!<br /><br /><br />We bid goodbye to Don (who's tearful parting from Joyce moved me to tears, of course) and the Sherpas and made our way back down to Gorak Shep. My heart was heavy. And sad. Much of it inexplicable. Until we met up with our brave climbers once again as they themselves walked up to Base Camp from Lobuche...once again, there was an emotional exchange of good wishes and goodbyes as we passed the group one by one on the trail. <br /><br /><br />After another night at extreme altitude, we were all more than ready to DESCEND to a more comfortable amount of oxygen. The hypoxia was taking a toll on our strength and spirits. The following morning, however, I was able to rest while the group tackled Kala Pattar.<br /><br /><br />Around 11am, I got a surprise visit from Vern and Derek (who had been recovering from Bronchitis down in Pheriche) as they stopped for some Ra Noodle Soup on their way to Base Camp. I was so happy to see my friends again, and dosed up on big bear hugs from my lovely Vern. And on some songs, of course as Vern is never on the mountain without that guitar of his.<br /><br /><br />Thus started my rather melancholy descent. Not that the hike itself wasn't beautiful, in fact, I really never got the sense of "oh, we've been here before I wish it were new...." I was just in a different head space- I most definitely had connected more with the climbing group, and now our numbers had more than halved, AND would continue to shrink the following day in Dingboche when the Island Peak Climbers, 4 of them plus climbing sherpas including Suzanne, left us for their summit bid. I missed my friends and felt somewhat lonely. Its weird going from a group of 44 strong, to a group of 8 (eventually in Lukla we were down to 5 plus Pasang!!). And I'd be lying if I didn't say that a small part of me wished I was in Base camp training for the summit bid as well. Never thought I'd say that!<br /><br /><br />We doubled up the amount of ground covered on the way down as opposed to the way up. Our days were long but very methodical and by now I was in a predictable rhythm. Breakfast of porridge and eggs around 7am, walk till lunch, stop for lunch of soup, sherpa bread, potatoes and veggies with tea, then walk all afternoon usually stopping around 4 or 5pm. Then tea with popcorn followed by a "sponge" clean in my room as I set out my sleeping bag, changed into my fleece and went back to the teahouse common room to read before dinner. Then dinner, and usually bed around 8-9pm. Rinse and repeat. <br /><br /><br />We met up with two trekkers who'd had quite an ordeal with illness in Pheriche, and with most of the group still recovering from various maladies, we made for quite a slow walking bunch. The trail back to Namche Bazaar was so ridiculously long...a path carved into the hillside with bend after bend after bend after bend in the road! You were always convinced that the town would magically appear around the NEXT bend, and it didn't! I was so happy to get to the Panorama Lodge...and was moved to tears when I was told that I would be getting my own room that had a SHOWER! Trekking strips you down to your most basic needs...so a shower can be ridiculously good entertainment. I was ecstatic to both shower, and have the luxury of doing some laundry...just enough to get us to Lukla before getting to my other bag of clean clothes in Kathmandu.<br /><br /><br />Well. That plan all went to hell in a handbasket. We arrived in Lukla in the afternoon of the 15th of April, tired but happy to be back and ready to get our flight in the morning. Joyce, Doug and I had a celebratory cake and latte at the local cafe before we settled in for a yummy meal shared with heartier souls that night at the Namaste Lodge. Everyone was very excited about our mutual return to civilization, especially the victims of the Himalayan "plague". <br /><br />So, it was with eager spirits that we breakfasted the next morning in preparation for being called over to the airport for our Twin Otter flight back to Kathmandu. Except that we weren't called until 11:30am, by which point the clouds were starting to hover thick in the sky and cast a gloomy grey over our hopes. After a couple hours at the airport which more closely resembled a nuclear silo, we piled into a coffee shop next door and ordered cheesecake and coffee to raise our spirits. I was overjoyed when Jen lent me a book (as I had finished all of mine already) "The Time Traveller's Wife" of about 650 pages. I was thinking at the time: it will be a shame to start and not finish this, but I can always get it stateside if I enjoy it?<br /><br />I finished that book.<br /><br />Our day 1 of waiting was ended when we were informed at about 4:30pm that our flight was cancelled due to bad weather. Disappointed and dirty, we trudged back to Namaste Lodge and awaited the plan for the next day. As with most scheduled flights, passengers arriving the next day with confirmed reservations would get the chance to get on planes before we did, despite the fact that they had not been delayed a day. You basically get put to the back of the line each day, and only get on a plane if somehow people don't show up for their scheduled times. So, we were happy when the owner of the guesthouse bought us new tickets for the "second wave" of flights for the next day (we were on the third on the 16th) as it meant we had just as much of a shot at the flights as those with tickets for the 17th. However, the second wave of flights didn't arrive from Kath the next day. We were screwed. And it was my birthday. Don, Joyce, and Juhie decided to fork out over $800 each for a privately chartered helicopter who's pilot was willing to fly in this weather. The rest of us bid them adieu and hunkered down for our 3rd night at the Namaste Lodge.<br /><br />Pasang was very kind and had a cake baked for me for my birthday...which was very odd indeed. We spent the day waiting to get out on a flight, which meant that we really couldn't go for a hike or be gone for any significant period of time in case our plane was ready. I read all day, then after dinner and my cake (!!) I was horrified when the room clamored to watch English Premier Football League on TV. Yuck. I left and went for a walk back to the trail head and watched the gathering storm as lightning flashed across the night sky. I felt very lonely and sad. Happy 34 ;-(<br /><br />The following morning we were awakened by Pasang at 5am with the news that Alpine Ascents had decided to send a helicopter for us. YAY!! And thank goodness that the 3 optionally paid for their own yesterday as there was only space for 5 on the chopper. Sadly, Pasang had to stay behind and wait for a flight. The helicopter eventually arrived around 9am and we were whisked into the air and to Kathmandu, flying in a very dramatic and very LOW altitude over the mountain passes (eek, I can see the hill that we're cresting!!) and through the gathering cloud and bad weather. It was an exhilarating experience, and I enjoyed the chopper a lot more than the planes.<br /><br />Well. By the time we were picked up at the airport and transferred to the Yak and Yeti, my nerves were frayed, no, actually they were completely shot. When I learned that despite the fact that I didn't get to enjoy the luxuries of our Kath hotel for the previous two nights, that I would have to fork out over $100 to get a room that evening (none of my fellow trekkers were willing to share their rooms with me for half the price...ugh!) or find a new guesthouse for the night, I decided in that moment that I just needed to get the hell out of there. I was done. Finished. I wanted to get back to Thailand. It was a choice between more time in the Islands, or another morning in crowded, dirty, Kath. It was clear.<br /><br />The only problem was that the whole time we were dealing with weather in Lukla, a similar issue was going down in Europe, but on a much grander scale. The volcano in Iceland. Flights were overbooked. And I didn't have a confirmed ticket until the 19th.<br /><br />I decided to risk it and go standby.<br /><br />I was not comforted by the ticket agents downcast face and repeated warnings of "very low possibility madam". I waited and waited, deciding to be ok no matter what. Miraculously, as about 13 of us gathered to here the standby announcements, I overheard someone saying "oh- he bumped me for number 8 on this list because HE was Star Alliance or some crap"...and I quickly piped up, arm waving, "I'm with Star Alliance Member Reward program!" "Where is your card, Madam?" "Oh, I never carry the card but the number is 13456673!!!" <br /><br />Silence. Then "Ok, you get the third and final seat". <br /><br />I couldn't believe it! I made the plane (just!) and on arriving in Bangkok, decided to axe the potential of dealing with the political tensions in the city by getting on the next flight to Phuket instead of taking an overnight bus. It was only $59. What the hell??<br /><br />I was delirious by the time I landed in Phuket, at the height of a massive thunderstorm. I got a cab to town, found a semi decent guest house with air con and crashed out deliciously.<br /><br />Well, I'll leave it there! I'm going diving tonight for four nights, so I will update you all when I get back! My trip is coming to an end, but I am determined to stay "present" and enjoy each moment as it comes.<br /><br />Much love,<br /><br />AnitaAnitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15626168590750165296noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4491582739399341065.post-2419756731417358582010-04-15T00:03:00.000-07:002010-04-21T00:05:02.417-07:00Nepal Part III: Trek to Everest Base CampSo we have finally arrived back in Lukla on our 15th day of trekking!<br />It has been an incredible journey and one that I will not quickly<br />forget.<br /><br /><br />I last left you on the afternoon that we arrived in Tengboche to visit<br />the monastery there, having detoured to stuff our faces with delicious<br />apple pie and real espresso at the bakery. Afterwards we went to the<br />visitor's centre and watched a short documentary on the history and<br />purpose of the monastery, followed by the opportunity to witness the<br />monks chanting. It was a mesmerizing experience, in fact, listening<br />to the methodically and rhythmic words put me into a meditative and<br />very relaxed state, such that when it was time to depart- I had to be<br />knocked back to reality.<br /><br /><br />Descending from the monastery through a lovely birch forest, we came<br />upon our accommodation for our sixth night on the trail: The Rivendell<br />Lodge (which was named after the home of the elves in Lord of the<br />Rings- very exciting for a LOTR geek fan like me). It was in a<br />beautiful setting with views extending over Everest and Ama Dablam.<br />That evening was especially memorable for me as Vern and I were joined<br />by a wonderful guitarist named Ryan, who was a climbing member of<br />another expedition sharing the lodge that evening. After dinner, we<br />sat playing and singing tunes until about 10pm (which is in fact quite<br />late to be up on this trip, we've typically been going to bed around<br />8pm, so its not as lame as it sounds!) for a rapt audience of mostly<br />sherpas who clapped and sang along. I even got the chance to try out<br />"I've Got You Under My Skin" in an a capella style with clapping for<br />percussive background. Lots of fun.<br /><br /><br />The following day brought me my most memorable experience of the trek.<br /> I had the incredible opportunity to witness the climbers receivng a<br />"Phuja" ceremony, where they are blessed by Lama Geishy to climb<br />Sagarmatha (Everest). A Lama is a Buddhist teacher, a holy man, who<br />is believed by the people to be a reincarnation of a Buddha. I<br />watched, entranced, as the Lama chanted, beat a drum rhythmically, and<br />then one by one, blessed each member of the climbing expedition with<br />prayer shawl and red corded necklace. After we were each given a<br />handful of rice which we threw in the air for good luck. It may sound<br />corny, but it was an extremely emotional experience and it had me in<br />tears very quickly.<br /><br /><br />Once the climbers left, the few trekkers who'd come the hard way up<br />the mountain to see the Lama were lucky enough to receive our own<br />Phuja. It was something that I will not soon forget.<br /><br /><br />We spent the next two nights in Pheriche (approx 14,000 feet)- the<br />following day being somewhat of an acclimatization/rest day. By this<br />point, a number of us had succumbed to hypoxia related conditions:<br />Harris had been flown by helicopter back to Kathmandu for a GI virus,<br />and now about four others were sick with GI/AMS symptoms. The degree<br />to which we were all at risk of getting so ill that we couldn't<br />continue trekking, was not something I had given a great deal of<br />consideration to. As it turned out, one of the climbers, and six of<br />the trekkers got seriously ill on the trip at some point, and four had<br />to turn around before getting to base camp! In Pheriche, I came down<br />with a cold, but nothing more serious than a slight temperature and a<br />hacking cough (which still...eight days later has not gone away).<br />From what I can tell, the trouble is caused by a combination of<br />factors: 1 - altitude. Lack of oxygen (hypoxia) causes a weakening of<br />the body's immune system making it more difficult to ward off bugs in<br />the first place, and harder to battle them once they are contracted 2<br />- melting pot of people from everywhere all crammed into teahouses<br />which become petri dishes for germs 3 - huge amounts of dust on the<br />trail get into your lungs and cause respiratory problems 4- Yak dung<br />and trash is burned and get into the atmosphere, and therefore, into<br />your lungs. Yuck.<br /><br /><br />Despite being quite ill, I still managed to sing to an even larger<br />crowd that night in the beautiful pine, large common room at the<br />Himalayan Hotel, which got so hot from the 50 or so bodies in there<br />that it seemed ridiculous to be dressed up in warm hiking gear.<br /><br /><br />After hacking all night, I was separated from my roomate and given my<br />own room to recover in the next day - score! I had a lovely hot<br />shower, napped, read, and tried to regain strength for the next<br />day...and more elevation gain. The sunsets at Pheriche were<br />astounding...lots of pink skies providing a dramatic backdrop to the<br />towering peaks all around us.<br /><br /><br />The next day was to be the last that the trekkers were walking<br />together with the climbers, and having gotten quite attached to the<br />latter group, I was not looking forward to saying goodbye. After a<br />morning visit to an Italian Atmospheric research station, I joined the<br />climbers for the afternoon steep slog up to the settlement of Lobuche<br />at just over 15,500 feet. I was definitely beginning to feel the<br />altitude, but pressure breathing seemed to help a lot. This was the<br />first night that I woke up in the night kind of gasping for air, and I<br />succumbed to taking half a tablet of Diamox...falling right back to<br />sleep. Lobuche was a tiny village...the facilities were becoming more<br />basic the higher we climbed. On the way, we stopped at a memorial<br />site to climbers that had perished on Everest. It was a sombre<br />location, covered in epitats and colorful Tibetan Prayer flags. I<br />found the memorial to Scott Fischer from the 1996 disaster.<br /><br /><br />That day the landscape really became more grand and awe-inspiring, now<br />we were walking alongside the towering giants like Nuptse. I snapped<br />a LOT of photos...can't wait to share them!<br /><br /><br />Arriving at the teahouse with the climbers, I was dismayed to learn<br />that our two groups would be in separate accommodation that evening.<br />However, after taking some tea and preparing to leave, Lakpa Rita came<br />over and invited me to sleep in Jan's room that night, and enjoy my<br />last evening dinner with the climbers. I was overjoyed and had a<br />thoroughly memorable evening talking, laughing, and sharing with my<br />new friends. Victor even shared one more scene from "The Holy Grail"<br />with me...which had me in stitches.<br /><br /><br />Having held it together the night before, I was not having such luck<br />in the morning. I sobbed my heart out as I hugged and bid goodbye to<br />Vern, Garrett, Victor, Jack, and....Quatchi! Yes...I decided to give<br />Quatchi to JR for the remainder of the expedition, as he said he'd be<br />happy to carry him up to the summit of Everest with him and his<br />mascot, Spike. So, as I type, Quatchi is at base camp preparing to<br />tackle the Khumbu Icefall to Camp I. Can't wait to see the photos of<br />that!<br /><br /><br />Wiping away my tears and trying hard not to think about the potential<br />perils my friends would be facing in the next six weeks, I joined the<br />trekkers (although Don, a climber, was walking on with his wife Joyce<br />and the trekking party through to base camp, so one goodbye could<br />wait) as we headed on up to the trickily high base of Gorak Shep at<br />almost 17,000 feet! On arrival, I was quite pleased with how cute our<br />wooden little teahouse was, and we were given the afternoon to rest.<br />Rest? I was feeling pretty good, SO- Don and I decided to tackle Kala<br />Pattar ( a peak of just over 18,500 feet) that afternoon because of<br />the good light, instead of waiting until the day after next when the<br />group was scheduled to summit it together in the morning.<br /><br /><br />Initially, I planned to just walk half way...but I got summit fever<br />and Don and I decided to go all the way to the top. The views were<br />astounding and we got some incredible pics.<br /><br /><br />Will have to leave it there for now....in Lukla and will finish this<br />tomorrow in Kathmandu!<br /><br />Love to you all!<br /><span style="color:#888888;"><br /></span>Anitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15626168590750165296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4491582739399341065.post-78200523666060076082010-04-12T00:02:00.000-07:002010-04-21T00:05:47.342-07:00Nepal Part II: Trek to Everest Base Camp<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0cm; text-indent: 0cm;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" >Friends,<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0cm; text-indent: 0cm;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" >I'm starting where I left off before.<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0cm; text-indent: 0cm;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" ><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0cm; text-indent: 0cm;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" >The first night at the beautiful Panorama Lodge gave me my first (of many) opportunities to sing my little heart out.<span> </span>Vern, one of the guides (and one of my favorite peeps on the trip) had a harmonica, John played the guitar and I sang along to a bunch of my favorite songs: Me & Bobby McGee, Summertime, even some “Hound Dog” by Elvis.<span> </span>I ended the evening with an a cappella rendition of “Mercedes Benz” by Janis Joplin and I had the entire room belting it out along with me.<span> </span>It was a wonderful evening and has since been repeated many times.</span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0cm; text-indent: 0cm;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" >It’s Day eight of the trek and we are happily acclimatizing in Pheriche at a lovely little lodge called the Himalayan Hotel.<span> </span>I have finally succumbed to the dust and germs and am madly fighting a cold which had me very clogged up last night (though it didn’t stop me from singing a few song requests!).<span> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0cm; text-indent: 0cm;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" ><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0cm; text-indent: 0cm;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" >The realization that I only have two more nights to hang out with the climbing group is starting to hit me hard.<span> </span>I have developed quite an attachment to several members of the expedition and each time I think about saying goodbye, especially considering the dangers they will be facing in the next six weeks, I get all choked up with emotion.<span> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0cm; text-indent: 0cm;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" ><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0cm; text-indent: 0cm;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" >Vern and I have become quite close as a result of sharing songs together each evening.<span> </span>We’ve also shared our life stories and I find his tenacity, warmth and gut determination (having climbed and guided for the last 31 years) to be incredible.<span> </span>I will miss his warm smile, crazy eyebrows, and crazier outfits (he would often wear bright blue running shorts over tight black spandex shorts).<span> </span>Mostly I will miss his bear hugs and the fact that I get a true sense that he really gets who I am.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0cm; text-indent: 0cm;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" ><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0cm; text-indent: 0cm;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" >Derek has been a blast getting to know, he is a fearless “gangsta” type.<span> </span>Hard as nails, tough to the core, and a little rough around the edges when it comes to expressing his opinions, we hit it off early on.<span> </span>He is crazy enough (and a definite kindred spirit) that he went along with a skit that we put together where he wore my hot pink panties over his black long johns in a dinnertime impersonation of Vern.<span> </span>It had the room in hysterics, and thankfully, Vern took it really well.<span> </span>After all, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.<span> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0cm; text-indent: 0cm;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" ><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0cm; text-indent: 0cm;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" >Derek also gave me two new nicknames: “Player” and “Sex Kitten”.<span> </span>I didn’t object to either ;-)</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0cm; text-indent: 0cm;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" ><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0cm; text-indent: 0cm;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" >A slightly more surprising connection was formed with a climber named Victor, 44, from </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" >Dallas</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" >, </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" >Texas</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" >.<span> </span>It was obvious from the start that he was extraordinarily intelligent, handsome, and an extremely successful business man, owning a successful and international private equity firm.<span> </span>At a lunch stop we fell upon the topic of favorite SNL skits, and Victor mentioned how much he also enjoyed one of my personal favorites, “I’m on a Boat” with Andy Sanborne.<span> </span>And so, sharing his headphones we rocked out together, and I saw a very fun-loving side to him.<span> </span>That afternoon we hiked together, and to my delight, discovered that his love of musical theatre didn’t stop with Phantom of the Opera (I had sung “Think of Me” at his request the night before) and we happily spent the next 3 hours or so (breathlessly!!) belting out show tunes.<span> </span>It was so much fun, I wasn’t even aware of the steep inclines that we were tackling except that I couldn’t sustain any of the long notes.<span> </span><span> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0cm; text-indent: 0cm;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" ><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0cm; text-indent: 0cm;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" >Then climbing became much more difficult when Victor chose to share another of his extraordinary talents: he could quote long passages from Monty Python’s Holy Grail, complete with perfect accent, intonation, and character.<span> </span>I was laughing so hard that at one point I literally collapsed on the trail, unable to continue, clutching helplessly at my sides.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0cm; text-indent: 0cm;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" ><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0cm; text-indent: 0cm;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" >Since that afternoon, I have found Victor’s company to be refreshing and he always has wise and witty insights to share during table conversation. <span> </span>I do hope that we will stay in touch.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0cm; text-indent: 0cm;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" ><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0cm; text-indent: 0cm;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" >It has been very interesting to observe my friend Garrett on this trek in his professional role.<span> </span>He is most definitely in work mode, and displays an almost super human, courteous, politically correct, and non-inflammatory attitude 24/7.<span> </span>Sometimes it’s strange to not see him let loose and relax, but I have the utmost respect for his dedication and laser focus to the task at hand.<span> </span>And that is no easy task- I certainly do not envy the responsibility he shoulders, and I am deeply impressed at the wisdom and experience he is able to share with his climbers.<span> </span>Having said that, I look forward to seeing the more relaxed side to him, getting a drink together in </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" >Seattle</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" > this summer on his return.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0cm; text-indent: 0cm;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" ><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0cm; text-indent: 0cm;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" >Getting back to the trek, our second day in Namche Bazaar was designated an acclimatization day, but we spent the morning hiking up about a 1000 feet to the Everest View Hotel to get our first official snaps of the mountain, surrounded by his more beautiful partners: Lhotse, Nuptse, and the staggeringly beautiful Ama Dablam.<span> </span>We gathered on the balcony to have tea (again!) and I relished the impressive views taking a ton of pics before we headed back down for a free afternoon.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0cm; text-indent: 0cm;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" ><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0cm; text-indent: 0cm;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" >Derek and I teamed up and headed into town where I bought some prayer flags and earrings, and he purchased a rug for the inside of his future “home” tent at base camp.<span> </span>We had a great time laughing and sharing stories and that evening settled in with wine to eat popcorn and then dinner with our group, which inevitably ended in more guitar playing and singing of songs.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0cm; text-indent: 0cm;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" ><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0cm; text-indent: 0cm;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" >The following morning we headed out early on a de-tour from the trek to base camp - to the little town of </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" >Thame</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" > where our Sirdar, Lhakpa Rita, was born and raised.<span> </span>It was a stunning four hour walk, which we learned Lhakpa had to walk TWICE, SIX DAYS A WEEK, in order to attend school in Khumjung.<span> </span>Staggering.<span> </span>Descending into Thame, which incidentally is also the home of Passang, we saw our first authentic Yak, which belonged to Passang’s father whom we waved to as we passed.<span> </span>That night we stayed in a lodge that was owned and operated by Lhakpa’s sister.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0cm; text-indent: 0cm;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" ><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0cm; text-indent: 0cm;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" >After freshening up, several of us walked the steep hill above town to visit the Ringboche monastery above Thame.<span> </span>The Lama (Buddhist teacher that is supposed to be a reincarnation of a former enlightened Buddha) had died the previous fall, and so the community was in waiting for another Lama to be “discovered”.<span> </span>The monastery was a very serene location and the interior walls were laboriously patterned and covered with intricate artwork- much of it was extremely erotic in nature.<span> </span>We learned about the Tibetan Buddhist chant “Om Mane Padme Ohm” which is supposed to help cleanse the soul of the six negative emotions.<span> </span>Enjoying a picturesque sunset on the trek down I was again, flabbergasted at the astonishing beauty of this valley. We again enjoyed a thoroughly satisfying meal and headed to our rooms around </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" >9 o’clock</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" >.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0cm; text-indent: 0cm;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" ><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0cm; text-indent: 0cm;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" >Day five took us back down towards Namche Bazaar where we took a detour to Khumjung, home of the school established for children of the Khumbu region by Sir Edmund Hillary.<span> </span>This was the day that was entirely highlighted by my time spent with Victor- that evening we celebrated Allison’s (another climber) birthday with a cake, and Victor kindly shared his awesome Monty Python talents for her and the crowd that inevitably gathered when he let it rip.<span> </span>I was happy for the ability to laugh sitting down this time.<span> </span>Victor and I watched “Touching the Void” together after dinner and I enjoyed the context of the movie even more by being surrounded by these incredibly talented mountaineers.<span> </span>After the movie, Victor recounted his story of being partially paralysed by a rock fall on his climb to the summit of </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" >Aconcagua</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" > in </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" >South America</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" >.<span> </span>It was an insane story of heroism and bravery which resulted in his life being saved.<span> </span>He honestly admits to being mad to climb these mountains, and he, Allison, and I had a very interesting conversation about their next two months on Everest.<span> </span>For Allison, this is her second attempt as her entire expedition team was turned around at the </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" >South Col</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" > eight years ago due to bad weather.<span> </span>She recounted a horrifying story of her summit attempt when her oxygen tank failed and she was convinced that she had cerebral edema before one of her guides discovered the malfunction, after almost 45 minutes of breathless, excruciating climbing.<span> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0cm; text-indent: 0cm;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" ><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0cm; text-indent: 0cm;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" >How lucky am I to get to have conversations like this?<span> </span>Seriously?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0cm; text-indent: 0cm;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" ><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0cm; text-indent: 0cm;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" >Day six took us higher still and we all began to feel the lack of oxygen and the increasing need to practice rest steps and pressure breathing.<span> </span>The morning was a leisurely descent down a valley towards lunch where I was absolutely not hungry but ate after the guides insisted that we had quite a climb ahead of us in the afternoon.<span> </span>I met my first Polish trekkers that day about five minutes before arriving at the café where we ate.<span> </span>The Poles are everywhere!</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0cm; text-indent: 0cm;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" ><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0cm; text-indent: 0cm;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" >That afternoon’s climb was rather long, but I found it quite easy as we soon formed a long snaking line of people all limited in pace to the leader at the front who was consciously trying to only push the climbers to 40% of their physical capacity.<span> </span>As a result, the climb was slow, steady, and quite manageable.<span> </span>Our destination was Tengboche, which was also home to the region’s largest monastery of the same name.<span> </span>On arrival, we were told that the monks were engaged in quiet prayer, but that there was a lovely bakery just a few minutes walk away which would provide a wonderful respite and diversion.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0cm; text-indent: 0cm;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" ><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0cm; text-indent: 0cm;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" >Okay, gotta go, internet very expensive here.<span> </span>More soon!</span></p>Anitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15626168590750165296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4491582739399341065.post-12278080482130085982010-04-07T23:59:00.000-07:002010-04-21T00:01:26.702-07:00Nepal Part I: Trek to Everest Base Camp<div>I last left you a world away in the tropical country of Thailand. That last day before my flight to Nepal was jam packed and extremely fun. The most memorable part was going to a movie, and experiencing that everyone stands up and sings the national anthem to the King prior to the start. It was very interesting to experience.<br /><br /><br />The following day I was very very excited to be heading to Kathmandu. It was an early start, but I heavily underestimated how long the cab drive was going to take. I arrived at the airport with little over an hour before my scheduled flight was due to depart, and I still had to retrieve my trekking duffle bag from left luggage. Then there was a huge line at check-in for Thai Airlines. Luckily, I made it in time, but it definitely was a very brisk walk to the gate. </div> <div><br /><br />During the entire flight, my skin was literally buzzing with excitement and I almost felt sick to my stomach from the eager anticipation of embarking on one of the most incredible adventures of my life. We landed in Kathmandu; I parted with $40 for my Nepalese 30 day visa and was immediately greeted by Alpine Ascents, and got a big hug from my friend, and Alpine Ascents guide, Garrett. It was good to see a familiar face as I eagerly greeted and shook hands with every other team member as they arrived. <br /><br /><br />This trip was going to be particularly exciting because the trekkers have the amazing opportunity of hiking alongside the 9 heroic individuals who are planning on summiting Everest. I can’t tell you how wonderful it has been to share tea, breakfast, trails, and dinners with these fabulous individuals, getting to listen to their stories, and discovering the genesis of their drive to climb the world’s tallest mountains, as well as learn about the inevitable driving ambitions that permeate other aspects of their lives.<br /><br /><br />On arrival at our hotel, aptly named The Yak and Yeti, we checked into our rooms and spent the afternoon doing a gear check with our trekking guide, Suzanne. Suzanne is a warm and competent climber who lives in Seattle (when she’s not guiding) and I liked her immediately. She has incredible poise and is great at giving advice as well as listening. <br /><br /><br />That evening, we all showered and headed out for our welcome dinner at a local restaurant. Despite the fact that we were all heading out for over 3 weeks in the mountains, and were all gore-texed to the hilt, none of us thought to bring along a rain jacket for the evening. We were caught out in a torrential downpour just minutes from the hotel as the heavens opened and lightning streaked across the sky followed by cracking thunder. We huddled under an awning waiting for a van that took us all sopping wet to dinner. It was a lovely evening chatting with some of my fellow trekkers and climbers. This was a group of extreme characters and I could immediately tell that I was going to have a very good time indeed getting to know some of these people.</div> <div><br /><br />Jack, for instance, made quite the first impression. 60 years old, from Seattle, he had come to this expedition straight from Papua where we had just climbed one of the 7 summits, the Cartenz Pyramid. He met me, took my hand, and said, “well, what’s your name…and more importantly, what’s your room number?” Why is it that men over 50 always find me irresistible?<br /><br /><br />The following day we awoke early and embarked on a city tour that encompassed 3 wonderful temples in Kathmandu. Our guide’s name was Krishna and we visited 2 incredible Buddhist Stupas, and then one Hindu Temple. Buddhism in Tibet is far more liberal than it is in Thailand; our guide likened the comparison to “Catholicism vs. Protestantism”. The temples are not encrusted in gold, instead, they are whitewashed walled complexes with the seeing eye painted on the conical structure at the top. Moving in a clockwise direction, always, people use their hands to turn the “prayer wheels”, literally sending thousands of prayers out into the universe to bring good luck to the spinner. <br /><br /><br />The Hindu temple was a little more shocking. The two religions reside side by side in Nepalese culture and it is warming to see the harmony and sometimes intermingling of the two belief systems. When we arrived at this glorious 16th century building built along the river, there was a cremation ceremony about to take place. This location is the Nepalese equivalent to the Varanasi sacred cremation site in India on the Ganges River. A woman was being prepared for cremation by her family, her body laid out on a funeral pyre of wood next to the river, which was little more than a brown trickle strewn with litter and evidence of extreme pollution. They set fire to the wood and began singing a song. It was a very strange thing to witness, and stranger still was the fact that many tourists began videoing and taking photos of what I thought to be an extremely private family affair. It was a strange experience and really made me think long and hard about mortality…after all, you don’t get to see a dead body publicly burning everyday.<br /><br /><br />That afternoon we had free and I enjoyed a refreshing swim in the hotel pool before changing and deciding on heading down into the old part of the city to explore. No-one else seemed to want to go, so out I trudged, guidebook in hand, on my quest. Luckily I had brought along my rain jacket because after about 20 minutes the heavens opened and lightning lit up the darkening sky. It ended up being one of my more eventful evenings traveling- some pretty crazy events ensued. Firstly, it was impossible to read the map since none of the streets were signposted in English, so I had no idea where I was or if I was heading in the right direction. After asking several people the way to Durbar Square, I felt confident that I was going the right way. I was questioning the wisdom of my decision as I looked around with dismay at the seemingly thousands of cars clogging the street arteries, pumping out their disgusting engine filth while they all simultaneously honked their horns at those brave enough to try and cross the street. It was a cacophony of noise, dust, exhaust fumes, rain, and people, and I was utterly exhausted and overwhelmed within a half hour. I asked some Police upon passing to ensure I was still heading in the right direction and they told me that I was actually going in the exact opposite direction to Durbar Square. They pointed for me to turn around. I was getting extremely frustrated, but I persevered and eventually came across another tourist who spoke English and pointed me in the right way. The rain was falling hard now as I found myself dodging motorcycles, my jeans completely soaked through, in Durbar Square with its 30 or so temples in just a 3 block radius. <br /><br /><br />The atmosphere was electric. With the sky ominously dark with storm clouds, and the rumbling thunder, and the strange spires, shapes, smells, and people all hurrying through the streets covered in running muddy water. It felt like I was in a movie. It was the magic hour. <br /><br /><br />I settled under the awning of a temple to wait out the storm, which quickly appeared to be useless as it showed absolutely no signs of letting up. A couple of stray dogs congregated around me. I was so wet but found myself feeling exhilarated because I was completely surrounded by locals- there was not a single tourist in sight!<br /><br /><br />After wandering the streets in an attempt to find some dinner, I found myself lost yet again. After stepping on a dead rat, and walking in circles, I was ready to just get a cab back to the hotel – but I was unable to flag one down because of the incessant rainfall. My only hope was to try and figure out the way home on foot. It took me over an hour, and by the time I recognized my hotel’s street, I was severely overcome with noise, dirt, and wet. I stopped in a promising enough café called “Coffee and Sandwich” to order a coffee and sandwich to go. They didn’t have any coffee. What the hell? So I grabbed a chai from across the street (watching in wonderment as they poured gobs of Hershey’s chocolate syrup into the cup) and sadly had to down it very quickly as they had served it minus a lid in the kind of paper cup that saturates too quickly to be suitable to hold liquid.<br /><br /><br />What an evening. I was utterly spent and a little traumatized by the time I got back to the hotel where I did a final check on my gear, set it down in the lobby, and passed out in bed.<br /><br /><br />The following morning we were all extremely relieved to see blue skies, which really boded well for our flight to Lukla (flights in the tiny 7 seat Twin Otter planes are often cancelled due to cloud cover and passengers can be left stranded for days waiting out the weather on a first-come first served basis). I was still on an excited high and thoroughly enjoyed getting to know some of my fellow trekkers and climbers. Everyone was in high spirits. Jack and I plotted to play an April Fool’s joke on everyone by telling them that no flights were landing in Lukla, but it sort of fell apart. After several hours of waiting at the airport, we filed through security (curiously the airport has separate lines for female and male passengers) and got on board our tiny plane for our risky flight to the Himalayas.<br /><br /><br />The landing strip at Lukla is a scant 1500 feet. I was told that it was an extremely hairy descent and landing with barely any room for error. Brad, one of the trekkers, is in the Air Force and so secured one of the seats at the front of the aircraft to truly take everything in. He was absolutely in his element and whooped with joy as we came in for our final approach, which was, quite simply, astonishingly crazy. I have never clapped with more sincere appreciation for a safe landing in my life.<br /><br /><br />As I stepped off the plane and my eyes were first greeted by the sight of these majestic mountains, I shed my first of what would undoubtedly be many tears. It was so very beautiful.<br /><br /><br />It was day one of the trek. We had a relatively flat and downhill hike of about 3-4 hours to do before arriving at our first teahouse. We have been staying in teahouses every night on this trip and I have been extremely impressed at the standards of accommodation and food provided. On arrival, there are always copious amounts of tea provided, along with cookies, popcorn, or crackers. Generally, there is Sherpa tea (which is a deliciously rich milky tea), Lemon Tea, Hot Lemon, and Black tea on offer. We drink tea maybe 4 times each day, so the name “Teahouse” is entirely and literally appropriate. Mornings have generally begun with breakfast around 7, and then the onslaught of being fed constantly begins. We will have muesli and warm milk, then eggs and hash browns or pancakes for breakfast. After a few hours of hiking we generally stop for another round of tea then lunch, then a few more hours of hiking and then afternoon tea which sometimes leads directly into a full blown dinner! I have eaten so much food, it doesn’t feel like a trekking holiday at all- this is a luxurious “everything is taken care of for you” experience.<br /><br /><br />That first night we stayed at the Sunrise Lodge in Phakding. On the way, I chose to hike with a couple of our Sherpa helpers: Passang Tenji Sherpa and Lhakpa . I’ve come to adore these two wonderful individuals, as well as all of our wonderful Sherpa helpers, porters, and cooks. They are the most incredible people: they are always smiling, they never complain, they are so helpful and constantly anticipate your needs before you even realize that you have them. And they are the most ridiculously fit and strong people I have ever seen in my life. Even more than the Inca, I think. Constantly while hiking along the trail, we come across porters coming in the opposite direction, carrying the most mind boggling-heavy loads….all with a canvas strap across their FOREHEAD. I’ve seen them carry entire pieces of wooden furniture, 3 or 4 duffel bags all strapped carefully together, and baskets filled six feet high with canisters of fuel. They are so very strong and I can only wonder at the beating their necks receive. <br /><br /><br />I learned that Passang was 37 years old with a wife and child in Kathmandu, and Lhakpa was 26 and already married 2 years. Their English was excellent and they soon had me laughing with their stories. I learned that Sherpa men and women tend to be named after the day of the week that they are born, followed by a middle name that tells them apart. That’s why we have 3 Lakpas. Passang means Friday and Lhakpa is Wednesday. I casually mentioned that I was born on Saturday, and I was immediately nicknamed “Pemba” , which then was morphed into “Pembanita” and the name has stuck with my two Sherpa friends. They are wonderful guys.</div> <div><br /><br />I also had the pleasure of chatting for a couple of hours with Lhakpa Rita, our head Sherpa, or Expedition Sirdar as it is called here. Lhakpa is a legend and this will be his fourteenth ascent of Mount Everest at 43 years of age. I was a little starstruck as I listened to his stories of becoming a porter, then Sherpa, then Climbing Sherpa and eventually joining Alpine Ascents and moving to the United States 10 years ago. Lhakpa has just gotten his US Citizenship but it has been a long hard battle, including five years spent apart from his 3 children whom he left in the care of his family members in the small Himalayan town of Thame (which we had the pleasure of visiting on Day 3). I asked Lhakpa whether he was on the mountain during the disaster of 1996 and I listened intently as he described what it had been like, waiting out the storm and listening to the communications from the stranded guides such as Rob Hall, whom he had known personally. Alpine Ascents had absolutely decided not to attempt their summit bid on that fateful day of May 10- bad weather had been predicted and unfortunately for the 12 victims, had been ignored by other expedition teams. It was quite incredible to be walking with this man and get the opportunity to hear his first-hand account.<br /><br /><br />On arrival we settled to tea and then enjoyed looking at and purchasing some handmade jewelry from a local woman who had hiked in over thirty miles to set up a stall specifically for us at the lodge. I bought a beautiful necklace made of Yak bone. After dinner, I went for a little stroll back over the suspension bridge across the river with John, who is a journalist writing an account of the Everest Base Camp trek for the Notre Dame University journal. The smell of burning Yak Dung hung heavily in the air along with the stench of burning trash. I was feeling very overwhelmed at the realization that I was actually here….actually in the Himalayas, and about to see Mount Everest with my own eyes. I slept pretty well that night (each “room” had 2 twin beds in them) even though I had to use my -20 degree bag as a blanket instead of cooking inside it.<br /><br /><br />Since that first night we have steadily been making our way up the valley and acclimatizing as we go. Our second day brought us to the trade capital of the Khumbu Valley region: Namche Bazaar. It’s a large community built on a precipitously steep hillside. The day was extremely warm and I was quite happy hiking in shorts and a short sleeve shirt. The sun is perilously strong here so I slathered in sunscreen and wore a baseball cap. This is by no means an empty trail – there are lots of trekkers and many many Yaks and “Zobkyos” which are a cross between Yaks and cows. Yaks have much longer fur and long horns that curl straight up in the air. The “Zo’s” are a little concerning as they most certainly feel that they have right of way and will happily crush little trekkers who unknowingly step out in their way or perhaps don’t give them enough clearance for their bodies and their loads. Every so often, there is an angry Zo, which we are advised to give a wide berth, because those horns would easily gall anyone who was standing in the wrong place at the wrong time.<br /><br /><br />There are also picturesque little villages, sunburned children running around barefoot, lots of metal suspension bridges over precipitous heights and churning rivers underfoot, and thousands upon thousands of Tibetan prayer flags decorating every building and structure that we pass. It all really adds to the atmosphere of this hike, which is as much a cultural experience as it is a mountainous one.<br /><br /><br />We stayed for two nights in Namche Bazaar to acclimatize. We stayed at the sumptuously beautiful “Panorama Lodge” which had a killer view and a cozy Red main room covered in wooden tables, benches draped in red carpet, and lots of photos of famous climbers adorning the walls. Our main host, “Mama”, was a stupendous example of hospitality and immediately produced a cake proclaiming “Wel Come back Alpine Ascents”. The lodge also had a wonderfully stocked bar, and I welcomed a lovely glass of pre-dinner sherry after taking a delicious shower and changing into my warm fleece pants and down jacket. <br /><br /><br />Every meal with our group is a huge social gathering…with over 30 of us it can get quite boisterous. In the first few days, we naturally segregated into “trekkers” and “climbers” and each group sat at their own table. However, we have since most definitely intermingled a little bit more, but with clicks between certain individuals noticeably forming. In many ways, this feels like summer camp and gossip is already rife among expedition and trekking team members, although for the most part, it has been pretty harmless.<br /><br /><br />By that third day, many members of the team had succumbed to some form of illness- be it altitude related, respiratory-related (due to the large amounts of dust and burning dung in the air) or the most common, gastro-intestinal. Now its day six, and most of us are still just suffering with respiratory ailments, and the dreaded “Khumbu cough” which is hard to kick once it sets in. Our guides are very good about ensuring that we all cover our mouths and noses as we trek to protect our lungs as well as possible, but the coughing, at least for me, has been rather inevitable.<br /><br /><br />The first night at the beautiful Panorama Lodge gave me my first (of many) opportunities to sing my little heart out. Vern, one of the guides (and one of my favorite peeps on the trip) had a harmonica, John played the guitar and I sang along to a bunch of my favorite songs: Me & Bobby McGee, Summertime, even some “Hound Dog”.<br /><br /><br />I’ve got a really bad internet connection, so I’m going to send this out now and continue another time. <br /><br /> <br /> </div>Anitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15626168590750165296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4491582739399341065.post-3531359434614009642010-03-29T08:13:00.000-07:002010-07-27T14:26:35.782-07:00Cambodia Part II: Angkor What?I've uploaded the Cambodia pics! Here is the link, hope you enjoy them!<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/anitalgray/CambodiaMarch2010#" target="_blank">http://picasaweb.google.com/<wbr>anitalgray/CambodiaMarch2010#</a><br /><br /><br />I left you on my bus journey five days ago heading to Siem Reap. It started badly when I realized that Andrea was not in her seat on the bus. I tried, in vain, to explain to the staff on the bus that we needed to wait for her as she had paid for her ticket, but they didn't understand me. Oh well?!<br /><br /><br />The ride was about six hours long and was quite trying on the senses. For those of you that are fans of my blog, you may recall a certain bus journey I had to endure in Chile in 2008, where an alarm kept sounding every 30 seconds for no apparent reason. Well, in Cambodia, the bus drivers honk their horns, for no apparent reason, incessantly every few seconds. They honk to say hello to other cars, they honk to warn people who are walking on the street, they honk when they haven't honked in <br /> several seconds. After a while it really grates on the nerves and I cursed myself that I hadn't brought ear plugs.<br /><br /><br />To make it even worse, they were playing loud Khmer pop songs....AND a really bad martial arts movie...AT THE SAME TIME! yikes. <br /><br /><br />Good thing I was reading a book about the art of Buddhism. Read: sarcasm. <br /><br /><br />We stopped half way for some lunch. The heat hit you like a slap in the face as you stepped off the bus, and then continued slapping for the next 20 mins...you could feel your own sweat trickling down your legs. I decided to have what the locals were having...which was some kind of greenish looking soup, with weird brown looking fried thingies, and pinkish meat. It tasted OK and it cost 50c so I didn't complain.<br /><br /><br />At least not until later that evening...more on that in a moment.<br /><br /><br />We arrived to the usual ONSLAUGHT of Tuk Tuk drivers asking whether "Lady, you need tuk tuk to hotel? I know nice guest house, will take you", though they were particularly aggressive this time. I ignored them all, as usual, and immediately walked over to whomever was NOT screaming at me and haggled a $2 ride to my hostel choice. No, I didn't want to stop at another hotel on the way. No, I didn't care if my choice was "far far from town". No, I didn't want to see temple on the way. No I don't want to stop at shop. No, I don't care if I lady travelling on her own. No, no, no, no, no. I just want to get to my hostel. Thank you.<br /><br /><br />Jeez. Its like pulling teeth and you have to be downright nasty to get through: this is a land where "No" means nothing to the sellers, they see it as an opportunity to win a sale through repeating their sales pitch again, and again, and again (not to mention, that together with the Khmer accent...the words come out so harsh and the intonation sounds like they're yelling "hey you stepped on my foot!!" instead of making a proposition (this became ever more apparent during the temple visits at Angkor Wat, where you are greeted by a sheer CACOPHONY of "Hey Lady, you want cold drink?", "Hey Lady, you want food?", "Hey Lady, you buy postcard? Only 3 for $1!!! (which my future travel buddy, Camille, from France, hysterically corrected by calmly replying "No, its 3 for only $1!) "Hey Lady, you want pineapple?"...and so on. They SCREECH their questions at you- and I heard these expressions easily hundreds of times each day at Angkor Wat...the intonation of those voices have made easily as indelible an impression on me as the temples did themselves, which is kind of sad.)<br /><br /><br />Finally got to my hostel and was delighted to find an air-conditioned room overlooking the pool, including breakfast, for $17. Wonderful. Dropped my bags, and literally raced into my bathing suit and jumped in the pool. Amazingly refreshing.<br /><br /><br />I headed into town for dinner that evening with two lovely British girls named Katie and Becky. We started on foot and then decided to grab a tuk tuk (apparently the annoying tuk tuk driver from earlier was telling the truth about the distance, although this turned out to be a plus for me instead of a minus) to a little food stall area by the river for some cheap eats. He clearly had no idea where he was going and dropped us at some random restaurant at which point he refused to respond to our request to be taken where we'd been asked. We all were just so frustrated that we got out and plonked ourselves down there to eat. Sometimes, its just not worth the fight. And I have to say, the "fight", was definitely worse in Cambodia thus far compared with Thailand.<br /><br /><br />Our meal was lovely and the three of us ate handsomely for only $9, although the fresh spring rolls I ordered were disappointingly bland. I was too hungry to care. We all enjoyed a lovely conversation getting to know each other and then we headed back to get to bed, having decided to brave the 5am departure for sunrise at Angkor Wat.<br /><br /><br />Angkor What?<br /><br /><br />Not for me. That night, my stomach awakened me with the command that its contents needed to be emptied. Over the next 36 hours I wretched and writhed around in blissful travellers' tummy agony. Oh how I enjoyed crawling back and forth to the bathroom on my hands and knees. How I enjoyed laying there and counting the minutes tick by. How I loved not having anyone with ambulatory skills nearby that could kindly fetch me some water and flat sprite. How slowly the day passed.<br /><br /><br />On the bright side, I read over half of my new book....and I had A/C so that I wasn't sent over the edge with being ill AND relentlessly overheated. I was also very grateful that we had a bar/restaurant in the hotel...and that the staff were kind enough to read in my face when I finally made it down the stairs with the words "water and 2 bottles of sprite, please, now please" that I wasn't going to be able to wait the customary SE Asian amount of time for service. <br /><br /><br />In the end, despite the fact that Andrea had disappeared (she emailed me saying that she took a later bus but she'd given in to the tuk tuk driver's guest house recommendation and not come to Earthwalkers where I was staying) I was glad that I'd given myself 4 full days in Siem Reap since I missed a day and a half being out of it.<br /><br /><br />So, the second day...feeling a little wobbly still, I tentatively ate dried toast and tea for breakfast and struck up a conversation with a French girl who came and sat nearby. She was also travelling alone (yay!....Becky and Katie did a one-day Angkor wonder and had already left) and after some persuasion, as she was on a tight budget (to which I responded that I would pay for the tuk tuk for the day tour of the temples anyway, and I'd prefer to have the company) she agreed to join me as we hit the road to see the Eighth Wonder of the world. Camille was wonderful and very inspiring. She had been "working" her way around the world for the better part of a year, at age 23, and explained that she left France with only 500 euros to her name, and still managed to have about the same amount in her bank account today. See folks? You don't need money to travel!!! Just guts and determination....(and hopefully a passport from a developed nation. ugh.)<br /><br /><br />Our driver, Si, was recommended to me by Katie and Becky. He claimed to speak English, but that was questionable. I completely forgave him because he never failed to smile...all day long. I called him "Smiley". He was lovely and gave us zero pressure- which was very refreshing. <br /><br /><br />On that first day, I explained that I wanted to see some of the outer temples and save Angkor Wat itself for the following morning at sunrise. No sense in seeing the Big Kahuna on day one and having the other sites not have quite the same impact.<br /><br /><br />Camille was the perfect temple companion because she took her time, and was a bit of a history nerd like me. I was worried that I might get "templed" out, as I sort of did in Thailand, but nothing could have been further from the truth here. The more I saw of these incredible 9th, 10th, 11th century stone meccas built by Kings, married with nature (sometimes overtaken by it, such as the trees at Ta Prohm) and dedicated to the practice of Hinduism and Buddhism, the more fascinating they became. <br /><br /><br />The crowds were another thing. They were annoying. Though not as annoying as the hawkers. Which included children. Tiny children. I had a little girl, barely 3 years old, try to sell me 10 postcards for over 15 minutes while I rested on a tree trunk. We agreed that, sadly, her first words were undoubtedly "only 1 dollar", and not "Mommy".<br /><br /><br />We were very lucky that day to have also had a reprieve from the heat in the form of an early morning rainstorm that cleared the air nicely. I even had to wear a jacket on the tuk tuk ride in because there was a chill! It meant that we were able to spend most of the day getting in four or five temples before heading back to town for lunch.<br /><br /><br />My high spot for the day was the temple of Bayon: which has faces carved into numerous towers; a fabulous display of the egoistic nature of its designer King Jayavarmann VIII. It was captivating to look at the level of detail that went into all of the art work, the painstaking depictions of everything from legions of armies...to a women giving birth!<br /><br /><br />Camille and I took lunch in downtown Siem Reap. The town itself did not impress me much: it was a tourist trap and the prices were surprising (woo hoo! It just started thundering and raining here!) The smog, traffic and noise all made me thankful for my choice of hostel. After another slightly disappointing meal (I had a "platter" of Khmer food, but none was to my liking except for the banana in coconut milk dessert), we walked back to our hostel and enjoyed a lovely evening in the pool and getting to know our fellow backpackers.<br /><br /><br />The next day was the highlight of my trip to Cambodia. Together with another hostel guest, Marius from Norway, the three of us decided to rent bicycles and brave a 4:30am departure in the morning to catch sunrise at Angkor Wat, before tackling the "Grand Circuit" of just over 40km of road in total. <br /><br /><br />It was so exciting to don my headlamp and head out into the dark streets, dodging cars on the same mission as us. It was a 10k ride out to the pearl of the temples, and you could just make out a glow in the sky as we parked our bikes and took what felt like a surreal march to heaven along the long path across the moat leading to the glorious structure that is Angkor Wat.<br /><br /><br />It was one of those moments that I'll never forget. It was spiritual.<br /><br /><br />That is, until we parked ourselves by the lake to capture the rising sun on our cameras together with a couple hundred other tourists ( including of course the Japanese tourists, who, I'm sorry, but who CANNOT EVER shut up and appreciate a truly tranquil experience like the rest of us manage. They have to shriek at each photo and share, and point, and yell at one another with wild hand gestures.) It was still magical, regardless.<br /><br /><br />After a few hours of clambering inside the giant building itself and climbing to the top of its highest turret, we set off on our bicycle discovery and took in about four more temples before we crashed for lunch. Of course, I ate at the woman's stall who hadn't screamed at me- telling her so as well. She understood.<br /><br /><br />My favorite was Preah Kanh because it had the same trees as Ta Promh magically taking over the walls and roofs of the structure, but it also had very intricate tiny passageways and rooms that you almost had to crawl through. Wonderful.<br /><br /><br />After lunch, Marius and I decided to begin the long ride home as we were completely beat, and the afternoon sun was starting to get brutal. Oh my god. That bike ride was so very very long. I was so happy to make it back and quickly got in the pool. The three of us could barely move, so we decided to ask Si to drive us back to catch the sunset. We all went to the popular sunset spot, but turned around after we realized that it was just the classic sunset looking at the sky from a hill, and we wanted to see the changing colors on the walls of the temples themselves. Si, so generously, zoomed us back over to Bayon so that we could see the faces change shade with the setting sun.. Unfortunately, after about 20 mins of exploring, a guard came by to inform us that it was "cloe". Not a spelling error.<br /><br /><br />That night, someone said the magic word "pizza" and we happily devoured a large spinach and mushroom washing it down with good ol' Angkor beer before taking our wrecked limbs to sleep.<br /><br /><br />The following morning I awoke early to bid goodbye to Camille who was busing it to the border and then getting the train to Bangkok. Interestingly, she would only arrive about an hour before I did, and my flight didn't leave until that evening!<br /><br /><br />I spent the day chilling out mostly. I read, swam and wrote my blog. Si gave me a ride into town. He was so lovely. He even made me well up in my throat and choke back tears when he bid me goodbye at the airport. He thanked me for being "special lady good customer", and asked if I might email him to help him with his "very bad engrish". Of course I agreed, shook his hand, and then as I waved...he yelled out what he'd said to me the previous 3 evenings..."Good night Miss Anita...see you in d morning!"<br /><br /><br />The flight was strange. 35 minutes in total, and they served a full meal. Weird how the Thai's will constantly haggle and then give things away like that when they're not expected? I shoved mine into my backpack as I was not feeling good - again! Can't say I'm a fan of Khmer food :-(<br /><br /><br />Landing in Bangkok, I grabbed a cab to my familiar hotel in Rambuttri. <br /><br /><br />Today was amazing. I did SO MUCH in Bangkok and I have a far improved opinion of the city as compared to before. I saw the giant reclining Buddha at Wat Pho, took in the crazy crazy narrow market streets of Chinatown, rode the river boat along the Cho Phra, saw a VIP movie at the cinema (think food and blankets provided!), watched Thai people doing mass aerobics in Lumphini Park, took in the skyscrapers around Siam Square and then rode the Sky Train home.<br /><br /><br />Then I wrote this. Didn't mean for it to be so long...but sigh......<br /><br /><br />Tomorrow, I head to the airport at 7:30 for my flight to Kathmandu. Not sure if I'll write much in the next two weeks as I head to Everest Base Camp. You can follow the journey online at Alpineascents.com <br /><br />Will be back in Bangkok on April 19. Till then,<br /><br />Much love,<br /><br /><br />AnitaAnitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15626168590750165296noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4491582739399341065.post-19207318064969130802010-03-28T02:01:00.000-07:002010-07-27T14:26:35.784-07:00Cambodia Part I: Same Same, But DifferentSo last time I left you I was preparing for my flight to the capital of Cambodia, Phnom Penh, via Bangkok. That was last Monday and it was a full day of travelling. Tuk tuk to airport, flight to Bangkok (where I dropped off a bunch of gear at left luggage with my trekking bag), flight to Phnom Penh and tuk tuk (Cambodia style....same same, but different) to many different guest houses until deciding on a half decent one by the river. I should explain "same same, but different". It is a phrase that one hears with extreme regularity from the locals whenever they want to express that something is similar to something else, or, more likely, that they have no idea how to explain the differences/qualities of something else in English. Therefore, it is used to describe another dish at a restaurant, a tour costing 30 bucks more, another room at a guest house...you get the idea. So, in that spirit, I describe Cambodia as just a little bit same same, but different.<br /><br /><br />On arrival in Phnom Penh, I obtained my visa for $20 and hopped into a tuk tuk (which is a 3 wheel taxi pulled along by a motorbike) with a French guy named Nelson, who kindly obliged letting me accompany him into town. It was ridiculously hot and I cursed my decision to wear jeans because it was a travel day. The traffic here was thick and the noise and crowds of the big city hit me pretty hard. In a very short time, I just wanted to get into a shower: jeans and all! We tried to find a decent hotel room, and I was quite surprised by the prices (all in US dollars, by the way...you only get Cambodian Real as change for something costing under a dollar) which were all over $20. I settled on a guest house on the mighty Tonle sap river, in what appeared to be a very touristy part of town...though I was too tired to care. Nelson was here to volunteer for an NGO designing a UV water purification system in Battambong and was only in Phnom Penh one night. After freshening up, we set out for some dinner. As I was still feeling under the weather, we settled on a place close by overlooking the water. My first impression here was the sheer number of tuk tuk drivers who bombard you with "Lady, tuk tuk? Lady, tuk tuk?" (I once counted 26 of these identical piercing queries during only a five minute stroll...which would test any one's polite travel demeanor. I was so tempted to say..."Oh, yeah! I've changed my mind in the past TWO STEPS that I've taken since the last guy asked me, you annoying, screeching idiot!!! If I need a tuk, tuk, I'll let you know!) Of course, men have it easy- they only hear ""Tuk, tuk?" In fact, I can honestly say that if I am never called "lady!!!!" again, it would be too soon...and I've only been in this country for 6 days.<br /><br /><br />I ordered Lemongrass chicken soup and was enjoying our conversation when we were joined by a rather strange Canadian man who appeared to be in his late fifties. He asked if he could join us, and began telling us that he was hear celebrating his engagement to a Cambodian woman whom he'd met here a few years ago, and that he'd just got back from her village where he stayed with her family on their farm along the Mekong River. That was all OK- I've gotten used to seeing old North American and European men with giant bellies prancing around with their trophy tiny young and lithe Asian women. But when he mentioned that she was all of 19 years of age...I was completely grossed out. He could probably read my expression, because he innocently asked, "What? Don't you think we'll be happy together?", to which I responded, "You don't want to hear my answer to that". "No, no...I do" he insisted. So, I let him have it. I explained, which Nelson squirmed in his seat, very politely but firmly that he disgusted me, and that taking a young innocent girl, who doesn't speak English, away from everything she holds dear, and taking her to the snowy north of Alberta and marrying her will only result in her extreme misery. However, with any luck, I said that I sincerely hoped that she used him to get a fine education, after which she'd figure out the mistake she'd made, and then take him for half of his money in a divorce and use the proceeds to give her family here a good life. He said he appreciated my honesty. I sincerely doubted him.<br /><br /><br />After wishing Nelson all the best for his volunteer work...I headed to my dark but air conditioned room and passed out.<br /><br /><br />The next day, I spent a solitary day sightseeing around the city...but having lots of small and wonderful interactions with various people. After breakfast of the smallest shake on earth for $2 I took a Tuk Tuk to the Tuol Sleng Prison museum, a gruesome reminder of the torturous occupation of Phnom Penh in the late seventies, during which a genocide of 2 million Khmer citizens took place. For those of you who don't know, Cambodia suffered a horrendous civil war in the early 70's, which culminated in the taking of Phnom Penh by the Khmer Rouge army, led by the insane and crazed Marxist, Pol Pot, on April 17, 1975. Every single citizen, man woman and child was forcibly removed from their homes, year zero was declared, money was abolished, and an agrarian class-less commune society was established which involved the mass production of food through forced hard labor in large "concentration camp-like" communes scattered throughout the countryside. What's worse, families were separated, including children taken from their mothers. It was nearly 4 years of sheer terror for the people, while the military shot, and bludgeoned to death any persons failing to comply with their new gruelling life, suspected of siding with the old regime, intellectuals, professionals, teachers, and their children. Tuol Sleng used to be a high school but it was turned into a prison of torture where the KR could interrogate suspected rebels of the new order. <br /><br /><br />Of the 20,000 or so estimated inmates of the prison, none made it out alive.<br /><br /><br />The museum is a chilling collection of implements of torture, first hand accounts from the soldiers, holding cells, and of course, thousands of photos and documents that tell the story of crimes that few in the world realized the enormity of when it was going on.<br /><br /><br />It was so hard to believe that this was happening during my first few years of my life: in fact, I distinctly remember hearing about the situation in Cambodia while I was in the hospital at age 3 recovering from my burn accident. It is one of my first memories...<br /><br /><br />After that gruesome few hours, I walked over to a cafe that a friend in Chiang Mai had recommended that I try out. It was an incredibly delicious deli that served amazing paninis and cakes. It was just what I needed...a little taste of home. There, I met with Clare, an American from San Francisco who was also in Phnom Penh working on a clean drinking water project, but this time for her non-profit employer back home. It was interesting getting her perspective on life here in the city, and on how much the people struggle. We talked about the prevalence of PTSD, and how there was literally no-one in this country who didn't have family who were murdered by the regime in the 70's. By all accounts, Phnom penh is still a "new-ish" city that is trying to re-build and recover, mostly psychologically.<br /><br /><br />In the afternoon, I wandered over to the grounds of the Royal Palace and Silver Pagoda. I must have inadvertently found a sort of "secret entrance", because there was no-one around and no ticket booth. I wandered around, happy to have the place to myself and standing underneath sprinklers that were working on the flowers. After an hour the place began to fill up and I realized that the grounds had been closed before! oops. Oh well. It was beautiful just wandering around the decadent gold and green buildings and going inside some of the silver laden temples to contemplate. <br /><br /><br />The heat was getting to me. I needed to head back to my hotel for a siesta- but before I did, I ran into and struck up a conversation with another single traveller named Andrea. We both had noticed one another because we shared a striking resemblance to one another. After sharing a tuk tuk back to town, we arranged to meet up for dinner that evening. <br /><br /><br />Later I tried to get on a boat for a sunset sail, but just missed it. Instead, I walked along the riverfront, calmly shaking my head at every "Lady!!! Lady!! you want....?" request for tuk-tuks, rooms, books, souvenirs etc. and tried to enjoy the sunset. I met Andrea at 7 and she convinced me to join her on the afternoon bus the next day heading to Siem Reap (a day earlier than I had originally planned) I agreed, deciding to visit the "Killing Fields" in the early morning, before the heat set in, at which point leaving this giant, loud metropolis would be just fine.<br /><br /><br />It was a 14km tuk tuk ride out to the Choeng Ek Killing Fields the next day at 6:45am - just one of the more famous areas of uncovered mass graves that were found after the fall of the Khmer Rouge in 1979. The most chilling site greets visitors as you walk through the main gate- a tall shrine eight stories high that is literally filled with thousands of human skulls. It is quite a sight.<br /><br /><br />As suggested, I bought some flowers and incense and paid my respects to these souls last "resting place", before exploring more of the site. Human bone fragments could still be seen just below the surface of the ground in many places and there were at least 16 distinct marked graves, that were discovered with hundreds of naked rotting corpses in them. Extensive forensics have been performed to try to establish sex, age, and cause of death. In the majority of cases, the victims were bludgeoned in the head and then had their throats slit. Difficult to comprehend was that babies and children's skulls were often smashed against a tree before being tossed in next to their mothers. The museum again did a good job of interpreting the series of events that led up to this atrocity in history, and there was also a 30 min documentary in English, which just happened to be showing in an AC auditorium (which was extremely welcome). After 2 hours or so, I returned to the driver who was waiting for me.<br /><br /><br />I had the chance to observe a lot of the suburbs and surrounding towns on the drive to and from the Killing Fields, and here, in no particular order, are some of my observations:<br /><br />- Cambodia is developing very fast. There was a tremendous amount of construction.<br />- Lots of women seem to enjoy wearing pajamas as their day wear. Curious?<br />- There was a lot of pollution in the rivers....plumes of grey and purple chemical froth pools clogging up the area.<br />- Most people and families get around on their moto (motorbike). It was very common to see 4 people and children seated on one bike dodging the traffic.<br />- I saw several babies "attached" and sitting behind their moto driving mothers simply by a too large cardigan that forced their little arms out straight like ram rods and their mothers then took the long sleeves and tied them around their own bellies!<br />- Most businesses are open air and simply line the main street.<br />- Stray dogs are everywhere as well as lots of water buffalo.<br />- People of all ages were hard at work in the fields.<br /><br /><br />Anyhow, I'll end it there. I got the six hour bus to Siem Reap that afternoon (nearly forgetting<br />my passport at the hotel!!) and funnily enough, Andrea wasn't on the bus! Oh well....adventure at Angkor Wat lay ahead.<br /><br /><br />Will write Part II tomorrow from Bangkok as Tuesday I fly to Nepal for my Everest Adventure!Anitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15626168590750165296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4491582739399341065.post-8694633926466179852010-03-21T18:19:00.000-07:002010-07-27T14:26:15.038-07:00Thailand Part II<div>I'm back in Chiang Mai and preparing to fly to Cambodia tomorrow, while fighting a weird cough/cold. It has not dampened my enjoyment and its been a full week here in Thailand.</div> <div><br /></div> <div>So I last left you on my last evening in Chiang Mai before heading out on a 3 day/2 night trek into the rural hills north of the city to visit the indigenous Karen tribe villages. We spent that last evening travelling up to Doi Sudathep, a temple perched on a mountain about 20 mins outside the city which boasted incredible views of the sunset. After taking in the views, the five of us headed out for dinner and drinks to bid farewell (only Raizel was joining me on the trek) to our group of five. It was a memorable evening punctuated by the obligatory Irish pub for another St. Patrick's day spent away from home. (and of course, there isn't a city in the world that doesn't have an Irish pub!)<br /><br /><br /></div> <div> </div> <div>After a quick breakfast and picking up my airline tickets for Cambodia the following Monday, we piled into a van to head out to the start of our trek. There were seven of us in the initial group, with only four who stayed for the full 2 nights of the excursion. We began our adventure with an elephant ride through the jungle. Now, I've been on elephants before, so I wasn't initially that terribly enthused to give it a try, but decided that it was included and the elephants looked pretty happy and well treated. So up we went, Raizel and I.<br /><br /><br /></div> <div> </div> <div>Whoops of excitement from both of us prompted Raizel to point out that we were being rather "loud American tourists", and we both vowed to tone it down a little. The scenery was beautiful and the elephants trotted along nicely with the weight on their backs. Then came time to feed the elephants, including the two baby elephants who came along sans riders to partake in the fun. We were given bananas to place gingerly into the elephants' trunks which kept "snaking" into our laps hungrily almost immediately after a banana had been swallowed. It was once we were out of bananas that all hell broke loose. The elephants started to snort in discontent, flinging a mucous banana-filled spit all over us, and causing Raizel to begin shrieking at the top of her lungs. Add to that the fact that the baby elephant was ever more persistent in snottily rummaging through our legs, arms and laps with his hungry and snotty trunk, and you have two very loud "American tourists" screaming. To make matters even worse, our guide, who up to that point had been sitting on the elephant's head navigating for us, decided to just jump off and let the elephant we were riding just do its own thing. That got Raizel into a complete frenzy as she recalled frightening memories of being thrown from a horse. The elephant sometimes would break out into a little run that made Raizel scream so hard it hurt my eardrums as I tried to soothe her by saying all was well (which of course I didn't know for sure). One couldn't help but notice as well that the snotty trunks very closely resembled the male sex organ which made their pursuit of our scared beings more...tasteless, shall we say? It all became even more entertaining when the whole group of us headed into the river and then the banana snot became fountains of muddy water, rocks and no doubt elephant poop all raining down over us. We should have worn plastic parkas!<br /><br /><br /></div> <div> </div> <div>It was all easily forgotten as we witnessed the baby elephants playing in the water and whooping for joy with their mom's. It was wonderful to observe.</div> <div> </div> <div>Filthy and covered in banana mucous, we headed to the trail head and happily hiked our gear ten minutes in to a raging waterfall. It was idyllic. We ate fried rice from little plastic bags and then ecstatically cooled and bathed ourselves in the turbulent water which was just cold enough to be bitingly refreshing.<br /><br /><br /></div> <div> </div> <div>After our swim, we hiked for a couple of hours to the location of our first night's camp: a Karen village complete with a bamboo "hut" made for our shelter. It was delightfully devoid of tourists (which I had feared would be lining up to buy knick-knacks at souvenir stalls) and actually quite authentic from what I could tell. The village held about 10 different "homes" and we witnessed families returning from the rice fields' and a days' work, children running barefoot and playing with the chickens and the colorful outfits that adorned the married women (single women in Karen tribes wear only white to make it easier for the men to court them!)<br /><br /><br /></div> <div> </div> <div>Settling down to our outdoor table for a deserved chilled beer, I noticed that there were some pretty dark grey clouds looming towards us over the horizon. Our guide, Det (spelling??), said that he had heard on the news that a storm was coming tonight. This was very rare because we were slap bang in the middle of the dry season. Hmmmm. We waited, anxiously, as the "atmosphere" created by the dark clouds, the sticky heavy air, and the gathering winds spelled weather to come. Before we could start dinner, the first raindrops began to fall. And then, the heavens opened and unleashed their fury for the next several hours. It was one of the most violent downpours I've ever witnessed, churning the ground into a sea of red gushing mud, furiously plummeting down the hillsides. Needing to pee required running through a small exposed area between our shack and the outhouse, and we were soaked by the brief exposure to the elements. Safely inside our bamboo hut, we were incredulous as we began to hear the sound of giant hail pounding on the roof together with the rain. Hail? In Thailand? In this heat? <br /><br /><br />Apparently, yes.</div> <div> </div> <div><br /><br />We ended up dining inside our sleeping quarters, a wonderful red curry with rice, and then shared songs and stories to the sound of the storm outside.<br /><br /><br /></div> <div> </div> <div>We slept on little mattresses spread out on the bamboo floor, and I cursed myself for not bringing my cotton "mummy" liner as I looked on at the filthy pillow covers and sheet less beds with blankets that may not have seen the inside of a washing machine this past decade. Not expecting the rain was one thing, but none of us expected the temperature to plummet the way it did. It was so cold during the night, that all regard for sanitation vanished and I pulled four blankets tightly around every exposed piece of skin, shivering away. Brrr.<br /><br /><br /></div> <div> </div> <div>The next morning we awoke to a fresh air that had been cleaned from the smoke of the last 3 days (all the crops are being burned at present, creating horrendous smog in the area and difficult respiratory conditions) and no signs of damage from the storm, except for our chilled bodies which responded well to a fresh cup of hot coffee. After scrambled eggs and toast, we strapped on our backpacks and headed out on the trail.<br /><br /><br /></div> <div> </div> <div>We past several more villages this day, witnessing farmers at work in the fields, women gathering frogs to eat for dinner, a tarantula which our guide "poked" out of its nest with a stick (it emerged with such speed that the guide had to take a leap backwards to get out of its way...it was epic!), and lots of farm animals such as water buffalo, pigs, and chickens. It was beautiful countryside and only the heat kept us rambling at a comfortable pace. We said goodbye to our 3 "2night" friends and continued on our way to our lunch spot.<br /><br /><br /></div> <div> </div> <div>This was taken in a villager's little bamboo home and it was a very memorable part of the trip as we watched four of the Karen people prepare their own authentic lunch of frogs, a BBQ bird which resembled a small chicken but clearly wasn't, and a grilled concoction of red ants and larvae! Our Dutch companion, Dave, was brave enough to try all 3... including the bird's brain and liver. We happily took pictures of him doing this and smiled at the offers to try for ourselves as we ate our safe noodles in broth.<br /><br /><br /></div> <div> </div> <div>Our guide, Det, was a fey little man, and he told us that he was in "training" to lead this tour himself. It was difficult to form an opinion of him because his English was so terrible. Whenever you asked a question, rather than admit that he didn't understand a word you were saying, he would do the classic Thai "saving face" move of giggling lightly and then responding with the last word in your question, an incomprehensible word that was not English, OR, my personal favorite: just "yes" or "no". On several occasions, he hit on Raizel and suggested that the "bunk" together...so after that, I didn't trust him at all and he really got on my nerves. </div> <div> </div> <div>After lunch he offered our group more noodles and then laughed at me implying I shouldn't have a second helping because I was "fat", at which point he poked me in the tummy. Irritating little man.<br /><br /><br /></div> <div> </div> <div>Things got a little amusing, albeit embarrassing, when we were offered chocolate bars for dessert which we happily agreed to pay 10 baht for. The bars were called "Beng Beng", and when it came time to pay, each of us offered up information on how many "Beng Bengs" we were responsible for payment for. Our guide kept giggling at us, and it was difficult at first to determine if this was just his regular giggle that he did constantly, or if there was some unknown reason for his amusement. Eventually, he started telling us that "Beng Beng" was a bad word in the Karen language. "What does it mean?" we asked, shocked at our innocent mistake, realizing that since the Thai don't have the same alphabet, they would have no idea what the name of the chocolate bars would sound like in the English language. He literally took out his dictionary and drew a little diagram of a vagina and said "it means middle of woman". I couldn't believe it! We didn't know how to say hello, thank you, please, or goodbye, but we managed to repeatedly say "vagina" to the Karen people who hosted our lunch! Unbelievable.<br /><br /><br /></div> <div> </div> <div>We walked on another couple of hours and found ourselves in a rather muddy section of agricultural land. I gingerly took steps to avoid sinking into the mud, and heard Raizel mockingly comment "Is it a little muddy, Anita??" at which moment I heard her shriek as she herself stepped knee deep into the bog. I smiled broadly and said "Be slow to point out other people's shit for you will soon step in your own!"<br /><br /><br /></div> <div> </div> <div>That evening brought us to another waterfall where we happily dragged on our swimsuits and jumped in the cool water. Marley and Dave (from the Netherlands) happily made out in front of us under the cascading water, so in love that they were oblivious to our onlooking stares. Its always so lovely to see people madly in love...except when you yourself are so very single.... I gave them both a hard time which they took extremely well ;-)<br /><br /><br /></div> <div> </div> <div>Filing into our jungle camp for the evening, we came across a lone Korean man whom I fondly named Mr. Bath, because of his fascination with asking nonsensical questions about showers/baths/spas the following day. Apparently, he had been with a large Korean group, forgotten his towel in camp, dropped his bag to go fetch it, and then gotten horribly lost. He was very sweet, but communicating with him made communicating with Det seem easy as pie. It was painful even trying to convey agreement or refusal. After choosing a bamboo bungalow as far away from the "lovers" (who no doubt were going to make the most of having a private room) as possible, we all sat down to enjoy a cold beer before dinner. We noticed, to our chagrin, that storm clouds were gathering AGAIN, and this time...with two beers muddling my brain and lowering my defenses, I gave up some raucous entertainment singing my heart out as the clouds rolled in and my new onlooking fans (including ardent audience member Mr. Bath who kept saying "encore") played the drums with their hands. It was an evening I will not soon forget. The rain started pounding down shortly after our dinner of yummy spiced vegetables and rice, and we had no choice but to retire to the storm safety of our huts as early as 8pm.<br /><br /><br /></div> <div> </div> <div>The storm was not quite as violent as the night before but it did provide some wonderful lightning and thunder claps. It was extremely engaging and I thoroughly enjoyed laying in my hut and listening to the sounds of the sky and watching as the river and camp light up with each strike of electricity.<br /><br /><br /></div> <div> </div> <div>Our last day involved a relatively short hike out to our waiting truck, which was colored by Mr. Bath's insatiable questions about our hotel, whether they had showers, baths, or air conditioning. Mr. Bath was apparently very particular and after answering Raizel's pleading glares to come and "save her" from her constant 'I'm sorry...I've no idea what you are talking about" pleas, we together managed to ascertain that he was actually enquiring as to whether we knew of a public bath house available in Chiang Mai? We suggested he ask for a "spa" and hoped he'd give up with his ceaseless questions. Mr. Bath really was very sweet and I'll not soon forget him. He was "picked up" by his lost group at the place we stopped at for lunch and we waved fond goodbyes.</div> <div> </div> <div>Our truck took us safely (standing in the truck bed holding on for dear life) to a lunch stop before our Bamboo Rafting experience. Another first, which I love! We ate Pad Thai noodles, fried rice, and melon greedily.<br /><br /><br /></div> <div> </div> <div>The rafting experience was definitely improved by the fact that there had been such a significant down pouring of water the previous two evenings...the river was rather swollen. We imagined calmly sitting on this pontoon-like structure whilst being gently glided down the river, but the reality was rather different. We were soaked to the skin almost immediately by a combination of waves lapping over the rafts and our laughing river guide slapping down his oar on the water sending a wave of water over our heads. It was very good fun, especially when we navigated over the albeit mild rapid sections, because the raft itself was so flimsy. We watched as other groups capsized, and cheered ourselves as we managed to stay afloat through the last series of turbulent water.<br /><br /><br /></div> <div> </div> <div>I was very happy to get back to our guest house after the 2 hour drive home in a bumpy truck, though the ride was definitely aided by our hilarious recollections of Det, "Beng Bengs", Mr. Bath, and the amorous forays of our Dutch friends.<br /><br /><br /></div> <div> </div> <div>We showered, re-humanized, and had an amazing organic salad dinner before heading out to the "Silver Temple" for "Monk Chat", an opportunity to talk to a Buddhist Monk and ask random questions about his studies/life/Buddhism, and a free two hour class on meditation. Our "Tuk Tuk" driver dropped us a short walk from the temple and we navigated what turned out to be a wonderful Saturday street market full of Thai vendors selling everything from waffles to leather handbags. On arrival at the temple, which was a glorious aluminium/silver building, we were informed that the meditation teacher was away in Quebec, and that only the monk chat was available that evening. Slightly disappointed we sat down with the eager young monk to try out our questions.<br /><br /><br /></div> <div> </div> <div>His name was Thuy, which he told us meant "Fat", but that after his nephew was given the same name, his parents added "Big", so his name was "Fat Big"....which I thought was very sweet. We asked lots of questions like, "How old were you when you became a monk?", "why did you choose this for yourself?", "what's a typical day like?", and "Why can't you be touched by a woman?". He calmly and in his rather good English explained that in Thailand, it is a matter of cultural pride for every family to have at least one boy enter the Buddhist monastery..so he wanted to do that for his family. He entered at 18 and had been there for 3 years as a novice, sleeping on the ground while the monks each had an assigned bed. He said that his monastery focused on studying Buddhism, as opposed to studying meditation, which was interesting to learn. He also explained that he can't be touched by a woman because it may lead to "Sexual Misconduct". He was earnest, endearing and very encouraging of our exploration of his faith and beliefs.<br /><br /><br /></div> <div> </div> <div>After navigating the market back home, and guiltily stopping for a banana waffle filled with chocolate sauce which was so good it brought tears to our eyes, we happily crashed in our beds, ecstatic to be between clean sheets tonight.<br /><br /><br /></div> <div> </div> <div>Today brought a wonderful new experience of a Thai cooking class, which I was determined not to miss despite waking up with a horrible cough and stuffy nose. It lasted all day, and began with an informative tour of the local market where spices, vegetables and fruits were classified for us, and we all went back to the school laden with baskets straight out of "The Sound of Music". </div> <div> </div> <div>I really enjoyed the style of learning and the hands-on attentive teachers. I learned how to make Pad Thai, Chiang Mai Curry, Red Curry Paste, Mango with sticky rice, Seafood coconut soup, and Green Papaya salad. The group was lively and happily shared travel stories in between dishes, which we individually happily consumed as reward for our tested skills. By the end of the day, my tummy was so full I could barely move, and needed to take the rest of the day to "recover" and take it easy before my flights tomorrow to Cambodia. So, I've been writing this, and uploading my pics, which I hope that you enjoy!<br /><br /><br /></div> <div> </div> <div>SO ....that's all for now, the next installment will no doubt be from the Khmer capital of Phnom Penh. I bid goodbye to Raziel sadly, happy that she will not be far away for me to visit when I get back to Seattle. I await further adventures!!<br /><br /><br /></div> <div> </div> <div>Much love,</div> <div> </div> <div>Anita</div>Anitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15626168590750165296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4491582739399341065.post-60178910753537994472010-03-16T23:13:00.000-07:002010-07-27T14:26:15.039-07:00Thailand Part IFriends,<br /><br />Its hard to believe that this is only Day 4 of my trip thus far to Thailand. Feels like weeks have passed by. It was also very difficult to wrap my head around the speed at which I progressed from my job offer, to my travel plans, to actually leaving- five days in total. It sort of made my head spin. That was pushing it, even for me! I was filled with the usual anxieties of traveling alone, going somewhere exotic that I’m unfamiliar with, and not having done enough in the research department to calm my usual detail-oriented nerves. However, the moment I stepped on my first of three flights to Bangkok…everything dissipated and I was filled with a sense of excitement for yet another Anita Adventure extraordinaire. <br /><br />My journey was extremely smooth and I cannot recommend Cathay Pacific more highly. They were incredibly particular about every detail of their flight service. I initially flew to Vancouver to catch my overnight flight to Hong Kong where I lost a Saturday night going over the dateline (but at least I didn’t need a date!) It was great seeing all of the Olympic paraphernalia again, and I managed to purchase a little Olympic Mascot keyring of “Quatchi” – the little furry Sasquatch that I liked so much in Whistler. I thought he would be a good little omen for me, and make my photos of tourist sites much more interesting when there was no-one around to take pictures for me.<br /><br />My only complaint on the flight was that the Indian Mumbai-bound gentleman sitting next to me on my flight to Bangkok insisted on picking his feet for the duration of the 3 hour journey. Yuck. I arrived, bleary-eyed at Bangkok International at 1:30am local time. I’d been traveling for more than 25 hours. I was quite proud of myself for thinking that it might be best to pay for luggage storage at the airport itself for my giant duffel bag full of gear for my Everest trek, rather than lugging it around Thailand with me. I found left luggage for a little under a buck a day- and then grabbed a cab heading to my guest house for what was left of the night.<br /><br />The city was buzzing. The driver of my cab assured me in broken English that he might be able to drop me “while walk from hotel” because of the “big meeting”. What was he talking about? “It’s not dangerous”, he assured me, “just many many traffic. You not hurt” Hmmm. I was not feeling reassured. As we drove towards the city centre, it became immediately apparent what he was referring to – thousands of red-shirted people protesting in the streets carrying anti-government banners, and lots of police dressed in full riot gear with bottles of tear gas. Oh, lovely. What a great date I picked to arrive… My “while walk” ended up just being a few hundred meters hopping through a mob of backpackers all drinking and partying up the night in the streets. <br /><br />Once inside my hotel, I was very impressed by the cleanliness of my room and the peace and quiet within. I showered and quickly fell asleep. The next morning I awoke around 7am and took off for a wander around the nearby streets. I immediately grabbed a fresh fruit shake for breakfast (under a dollar) and noticed that every other storefront offered a variety of massages for about 6 dollars per hour. I was in heaven. Just leave me here!! Looking for a certain travel agency, I asked 3 people sitting to breakfast what street I was on, and promptly struck up a conversation, ascertained that they were all from Manchester, England, forgot all about my morning errand, and joined them on a jaunt to see The Emerald Buddha and Grand Palace.<br /><br />On arrival, our wits were tested by an official looking man who informed us that the temple was not open until 11am and that we should take a cab to go visit another temple and then return…his “friend” would take us there for only 10 Baht each. This registered in my brain as a scam and we promptly moved on past him and entered the main entrance to find hundreds of other people enjoying the clearly open historic site. After the girls were given clothes to cover our shoulders and knees, we headed in to the site. I rented an English audio tour- I always get so historically nerdy and think that I really want to learn everything about a site like that…and then the heat hits me and I realize I’ve been listening to “Number 8 – The Chadi” for five minutes and I have no idea what’s been said. <br /><br />The buildings were amazing, ornate and all built by one of the “Ramas” (1-4 if my memory serves). I took lots of pictures and took off my shoes to sit cross-legged in contemplation in front of the Emerald Buddha. I melted. After a refreshing Singha beer and lunch we all headed back to our rooms for a little kitty nap and met up later for some meandering around Khao San Road, shopping, and dinner. Feeling exhausted from jet lag, I eagerly paid 6 bucks for the Thai massage and got pummeled into oblivion. I kept screaming every time she worked on my foot’s surgical site, my English and frantic pointing to my scar apparently not enough to deter this tiny but mighty Thai lady from insisting on punishing it with her fists. Small price to pay for bliss everywhere else. <br /><br />The next day, my new friends (Drew, Katie and Lucy) and I took a day trip to the Damnoen Saduak Floating Market, the bridge on the River Kwai, and the Tiger Temple. It was a full-on day… The market was extremely touristy but I didn’t care- it was full of the iconic picture-perfect boats overflowing with produce and straw hat wearing old ladies trying to sell you Mango with sticky rice. We happily sat in our canoe-like boat and enjoyed our water-based shopping trip for a couple of hours before we headed to the town of Kanchanaburi and the World War II museum overlooking the famed Bridge on the River Kwai. <br /><br />I found the museum fascinating and moving as I read of the over 100,000 POW’s who perished building the railway the Japanese used as a supply and escape route from Thailand to Burma during WWII. There were lots of displays of authentic Japanese armored vehicles, currency and signs from the occupation of Thailand, as well as harrowing stories told by some of the survivors. A walk across the now re-build bridge took me back in time as I imagined what it would have been like to be forced to march out onto this bridge knowing that the allied planes were about to drop bombs on it. Chilling. They say that the river ran red with blood for over 4 days.<br /><br />Another long drive took us to the controversial Tiger Temple, where about 30 tigers live and roam the grounds offering visitors the chance to get up close and personal with pictures and nervous petting (really? Petting? The tigers? I didn’t believe until I saw…) I had to buy a new pair of pants on arrival as I was informed that red and orange could make the tigers aggressive. I handed over cash very willingly upon hearing that for a blue pair of “fisherman’s pants” (which took me another 2 days to figure out how to tie properly I was a little uneasy about how the tigers were treated, especially since most of them were leashed and seemed very habituated to the humans stroking them. I did get my photo taken, my favorite encounter being with the cutest little tiger cubs. <br /><br />After the 3 hour journey back to Bangkok, we were relieved to hear that we had managed to secure beds on the overnight sleeper train to Chiang Mai leaving in a couple of hours- so after a quick shower, we grabbed our backpacks and braved the crazed streets via taxi to the train station. <br /><br />The train journey was quite a surreal experience: very exciting, romantic and patience-testing. Thank goodness we managed to secure the air conditioned cabin- the faces of the pained travellers sitting in the "fan-only" cars said it all. I slept extremely well despite the fact that they kept the fluorescent lights on all night (thanks to Cathy Pacific's eye sleep-cover thingy). <br /><br />In the morning, we stumbled down to the restaurant car (after taking an obligatory pee in the toilet/standing hole over the train tracks while holding your nose for the stench) and ordered coffee and coffee. While only 8am, the "manager" was blaring Thai pop tunes at a decibel that required yelling for passable conversation, and insisted on singing (badly) over the top of it at the same time. He was clearly on a controlled substance of some kind as evidenced by his inexplicable euphoria, announcement that he "does boys and girls, you know", and then tendency to pass out when someone wanted to pay their check, muttering in Thai and shaking his head.<br /><br />A few hours later, it became pretty obvious that we were going to be delayed because the train kept stopping every 10 minutes. We could but hope that the restaurant manager wasn't sharing his drugs with the train driver. A lovely waitress came by and served us sandwiches for lunch as we sat hunched over on our bunk beds, unable to sit up because of the low ceiling. We made a new friend, Raicay, from Seattle (!!!) and sat laughing for hours at the situation, especially when the waitress would break out into a little song and dance for no reason.<br /><br />Four hours late, we pulled into Chiang Mai station, and were immediately assaulted by the afternoon heat. Negotiating a fair price for a Sorng Taa ou to a guest house, we headed into town, checked in and then grabbed another mouthwatering delicious meal. <br /><br />The food in Thailand has been outstanding so far. Fresh fruit and juices, and tons of veggies in every meal combined with delicious amounts of coconut milk and spices. Its been a huge part of the experience thus far and I look forward to every meal to try something new. In fact, I intend to take a day's cooking class (wish you were here Magda!!) on Saturday after returning from a trek.<br /><br />This morning I headed out around 6am ( I know - I'm NOT a morning person, but for some reason when I travel I metamorphosize) on a solo walking tour of the city temples when the peace and coolness of the morning was briefly interrupted by a terrifying encounter with a stray dog who attacked me. I did not provoke it in anyway, he just came right at me and bit me on the leg...THANKFULLY not puncturing the skin. A saffron-robed Buddhist monk came to my rescue and hit the dog with his stick getting him off of me. It was rather unnerving but after another twenty minute walk, I had brushed it off.<br /><br />The temples were beautiful and I snapped a hundred photos before wandering back to the hotel via this Internet cafe. <br /><br />Tomorrow, my new Seattle friend and I are heading north to do a 3 day hill-tribe trek, staying in traditional bamboo huts with the Karen people. I'm looking forward to it and getting some cardio exercise in. I will write again on my return.<br /><br />Much love, AnitaAnitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15626168590750165296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4491582739399341065.post-5840305782677524162009-06-16T19:04:00.000-07:002010-07-27T14:29:25.592-07:00EpilogueI always start with the best of intentions to write a summary of my travels once I'm home. Something about the return to the familiar surroundings of reality usually squishes any creative impulse left in me to write; its as if the inspiration created by the constantly new stimuli fades away leaving nothing but...despair.<br /><br />Yes. The culture shock of coming home is bad. All who have traveled for an extensive period of time are aware of this. Well. Let me tell you: it is made even worse by 1 - not having a job or significant other to come home to, and 2 - not having a crowd of people ready to throw you a "welcome home party".<br /><br />I was not even enthused significantly when I discovered that I had passed the CFP examination that I had been studying so hard for, during the months leading up to the trip.<br /><br />Or worse yet: friends who've had you off their radar for so long they won't even answer your wall-to-wall on <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Facebook</span>.<br /><br />As you can tell, I am sad to be home. And I'm going to need a lot of encouragement if I'm going to finally put pen to paper (figuratively of course) and make this blog into a book which I've been talking about writing for at least ten years, and still have done nothing about.<br /><br />So, a conclusion of sorts to my time in Central & South America. That's what I've been asked to write. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Ok</span>. I think I only have the strength to do this in list format. So, here goes:<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">1 - What were your favorite things about Central America?</span><br /><br />- Its always warm enough to throw on a tank top, shorts, and a pair of flip flops.<br /><br />- The men will ALWAYS remind you that you are a sexy, desirable, woman by hollering at you from every possible vantage point.<br /><br />- People have an incredibly apparent sense of community and family. They stop and talk to each other on the street (forget <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Facebook</span>!) They offer rides to each other as they drive down the street. They go out as families in the evening. They all live together under one roof and share everything they own. They take care of their elders.<br /><br />- It seemed perfectly normal to be drinking beer at 10 o'clock in the morning.<br /><br />- Oh! 50c beers! Ladies drink for free!<br /><br />- Less than 40 feet of visibility seemed like a good reason not to go diving. (WHAT was I thinking??)<br /><br />- Chicken buses with blaring music and a strobe light on the ceiling!<br /><br />- Volcanoes<br /><br />- Same power outlet voltages as back home<br /><br />- Lots of adrenaline activities to try out - white water rafting/kayaking, canyoning, zip-lining canopy...<br /><br />- No one is in a hurry to DO ANYTHING<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Things I hated about Central America:</span><br /><br />- No one is in a hurry to DO ANYTHING<br /><br />- Each time you past a roadside store, restaurant and shop, it would be a requirement for there to be at least two stray dogs, and at least one, if not several crying, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">underclothed</span> children.<br /><br />- The idea of buying fast food fried chicken, and the speed at which it would happen is the equivalent to placing an order with God on a slip of paper.<br /><br />- Forget trying to complain. About anything. Ever.<br /><br />- Trash, everywhere...especially plastic bottles. People throw trash into rivers, and out of the windows of moving vehicles.<br /><br />- Can't order ice with your drink, or drink tap water anywhere except Panama City.<br /><br />- Rice and beans does not constitute a good breakfast food item.<br /><br />- If you sit down to order a meal in a restaurant, the wait staff will quickly think of ways to actively ignore you, for fear they might be required to actually do some work<br /><br />- Chicken buses. That do not cater to the leg length of any individuals past Grade 8.<br /><br />- "Is it safe?" is a question you have to leave behind in the hotel room.<br /><br />-<span style="font-weight: bold;"> What were your favorite things about Peru and Bolivia?</span><br /><br />- When my mountain guide told me how beautiful I was. And then proceeded to explain how all foreign women are SO BEAUTIFUL.<br /><br />- Vast, breathtaking <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">altiplano</span> expanses.<br /><br />- The incredible Andes mountains with their jagged snow capped peaks which begged me to climb them, altitude sickness be damned!<br /><br />- Coca leaves. Observing what an active part of the culture they play. How chewing is as socially acceptable among friends as meeting for a drink is back home. How black it made <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">everyone's</span> teeth.<br /><br />- Llamas. And Alpacas. How cute they were. And how tasty!<br /><br />- Inca Kola. How yellow it was. How popular it was- way more than Coca Cola.<br /><br />- How almost every conversation, with every traveller you met, started with: "So, where are you from? Where are you travelling? Where are you going next/<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">where've</span> you been? How long are you going to be away?"<br /><br />- How many conversations I had that last more than a few hours, at which point I realized that I didn't know the person's name.<br /><br />- Ordering a meal which includes cocktails, wine, steak, and dessert for under $10!<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">- Things I hated about travelling in South America:</span><br /><br />- Hostels that have become overrun with groups of Israeli backpackers, who clearly did not leave their country to experience any other culture other than their own.<br /><br />- Paying for toilets. And the "whammy" system (which usually came out as just one whammy). Single whammy - toilet was clean enough to stomach using. Double - it had toilet paper. Triple - there was hand soap (which usually moved me to tears), and finally, Quadruple whammy - when you didn't have to pay for it!!<br /><br />- Long overnight bus journeys that contained every human endurance test known: <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Blaring</span> loud violent movies to sleep through, temperatures ranging from a modern convection oven to the arctic. Seats that lovingly promised to recline which then failed to. Seats so large you bounced around in them like a ball in a ping pong machine. Death by Pan Flute music. All night. Creepy, secluded bus stations full of a few people who will hound you as you sleepily stumble off of the bus at 3:30 in the morning.<br /><br />- How there are basically two directions you can travel through Peru and Bolivia in...and for a while, how each time I met somebody really cool that I could hang with- they would be travelling in the opposite direction to me.<br /><br />- How you could never let your bags out of your sight. Even in Public bathrooms...hauling your backpack into the stall with you, being hardly unable to close the door!<br /><br />- Never getting used to the altitude, past <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Cusco</span>. I was always huffing to walk up a steep street. Knowing that people here are just born with a different lung capacity to my own.<br /><br />In any case...I had a fantastic journey, which I must now turn into a book.<br /><br />In summary:<br /><br /><br />Days away from home -76<br />Separate flights flown - 13<br />Countries visited - 7<br />Number of friends connected with on <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Facebook</span> -24<br />Number of men I kissed - 3<br />Days spent at altitude -36<br />Days spent on bikes - 3<br />Archaeological sites visited - 5<br />Days I got up before 5am -12 (!!!!)<br />Days spent on buses (entirely) -11 <br />Days spent in the jungle -5<br />Days spent in cities -19<br />Days of diving - 1<br />Days of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">snorkeling</span> - 7<br />Days on tropical beaches -13<br />Nights in a tent under the stars - 6<br />Days spent hiking or climbing a mountain - 17 (!!!!)<br />Nights spent on overnight buses - 5<br />Religious festivals observed - 3<br /><br />AND....number of first things attempted!<br /><br />-Canopy "zip lining"<br />- <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Canyoning</span><br />-Riding a scooter<br />- Eating Alpaca/Llama<br />- Sand buggy/boarding<br />- Climbing a 20,000 foot mountain<br />- Going to a wrestling match<br />- Biking down the "world's most dangerous road"Anitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15626168590750165296noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4491582739399341065.post-933879381491037972009-06-03T13:47:00.000-07:002010-07-27T14:31:58.992-07:00Panama Adventure III am sitting in an Internet cafe in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Alajuela</span>, a tiny town north of San Jose that is just a five minute cab ride from the International Airport. At 8am tomorrow, I will board the first of three planes bound for Seattle. What an incredible journey and experience it has been. I plan to write an epilogue of sorts when I get home (I'm sure I'll have more perspective then too!) but for now, here is the last week of my time in the beautiful country of <span class="il">Panama</span>.<br /><br /><br />I last left you in the mountain town of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Boquette</span>, as I was <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">de</span>-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Bocasing</span> and coming down from the high of constant sun and parties. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Boquette</span> was a very quiet town. And quite chilly and rainy. Sadness! However, saying that, it really was beautiful and surrounded by lush cloud forest and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Volcan</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Baru</span>...the highest point in <span class="il">Panama</span>. It was also famous for its whitewater, and Abraham and I decided to do a raft trip for the following day.<br /><br /><br />The alarm sounded at 6am, and we dragged ourselves out of bed to ready for the big day. I was very very sleepy, but the sight of extremely hot rafting guides in the van soon woke me up. he he. It was a two hour ride to the river, which we were told was in peak condition, for it was well into the rainy season, making some of the class IV rapids more like Class IV.5<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">ish</span>.... We'll see!<br /><br /><br />The trip turned out to be very thrilling indeed. This was probably my sixth or seventh experience doing this, but I can honestly say I've never been through water this rough before. There were definitely moments where if you fell out of the boat you would have to kiss your own sweet ass goodbye. Curtains. Abraham did fall out of the boat, but luckily it was not in one of those places. It all happened so fast, and I went to move over to drag him back in the raft but found myself pinned down by the guy in front who had also fallen over by the ferocity of the water. Once all were safe and back in the boat, it was all a bit funny.<br /><br /><br />We were well and truly smashed by the end of the 3 hour long trip which included several portages and a lot of very heavy paddling. Lots of fun though, and once I had gotten more used to the constant rapids (there was no waiting between them like I'd found floating on other rivers, the thrills just kept on coming) I was able to relax a little more and just enjoy it.<br /><br /><br />By the time we got back into town, we both needed a nap which was glorious. Then we decadently returned to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Boquette</span> Bistro, and this time fell upon the Baked Brie and Chicken <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Teriyaki</span>. Yum.<br /><br /><br />On our second day in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Boquette</span> I was starting to have difficulties deciding on my next travel destination. I had heard that Santa Catalina was a pretty coastal town that offered access to some of the best diving in Central America at <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Isla</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">de</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Coiba</span>. However, communication with the scuba company, or indeed any hoteliers down there was proving fruitless. On top of that, I was told it was an epic 8 hour journey there. Abraham and the girls were leaving for <span class="il">Panama</span> City on the overnight bus, and if I went with them, I would have just enough time to visit the islands of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Comarca</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">de</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">Kuna</span> Yale and the city before needing to come back to San Jose. It was either <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">Coiba</span> or the islands. Once I found out that a two tank dive was going to cost me $140 plus two days of travel time...I opted to head out that night to David and on to <span class="il">Panama</span> City.<br /><br /><br />Trying to decide what to do that day, we stumbled across a place that rented scooters, and they looked like they would be a cheaper (not to say more fun) option for visiting some of the local waterfalls and hikes in the area. Abraham was very excited to try them, and since I could barely stay upright as I tried to drive one down a side street, we agreed that he would drive and I would be the passenger. We donned cute little helmets, filled the tanks with $2 of gas..and off we went into the hills to explore.<br /><br /><br />This was another "first"". I love doing things for the first time, and the scooters were a blast to ride and offered a unique perspective on the countryside around us. Abraham was loving the speed and corners, that is, until we were faced with giant hills where the tiny little engines sounded like they were issuing their last dying breath and at one point we were forced to dismount and push. Miraculously, we found the trail head to a 2 hour hike the owner of our hostel had recommended. It was a very pretty walk and I was enjoying the effortless way I seemed to be climbing uphill with the abundant oxygen in the air.<br /><br /><br />Driving back down to town I was determined to give "holding the reins" by driving the damn scooter myself another try. We fell about laughing as I crashed and burned several times, screaming along the way because there was a semi coming. At one point, Abraham had to reach over me and grab the brakes because we were "going down". But I was determined and after learning to trust the bike itself (kind of like riding a push bike for the first time) I managed to drive all the way back to town, switching before traffic got too intense. Thank you for putting your life in my hands, Abraham!!<br /><br /><br />Heading back to the rental place, the heavens opened and pelted rain upon us. We got completely drenched, whereas our friends, who were five minutes ahead of us, stayed high and dry. But we'd had a great time.<br /><br /><br />We were to be on the 7pm bus to David, the second largest city in <span class="il">Panama</span>, and then the overnight bus which was leaving at midnight. It was going to be a long night. David was by far one of the roughest cities I'd had the misfortune to spend a few hours in on this trip. Abraham and I walked around for hours looking for any restaurant that might be open, and we were told that everything was shut because it was...wait for it...8:30pm! Date night in David must be really hot and heavy. Eventually, after walking through dark rainy streets which looked like the perfect hangout for gang activity, we happened across a semi decent Chinese place before heading back to the terminal.<br /><br /><br /> How I dislike overnight buses. This one turned out to be not so bad, actually. Somehow, having a seat which didn't really recline very much helped me to fall asleep. Before it had felt like five minutes, we pulling into the bus station in the capital at 5:45am. Dazed and confused, we muddled out and got in a taxi bound for <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">Casco</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">Viejo</span>, the older part of the city where the hostel Abraham had stayed at before was located: Luna's Castle. Since beds weren't ready yet, and Abraham was leaving that afternoon for Colombia, I offered to take him out for a final breakfast together before I made the most of the morning by visiting the <span class="il">Panama</span> Canal. We found the best little cafe and ordered a slamming breakfast of fresh bread, eggs, bacon and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">goooooooood</span> coffee for $4 each. It was fantastic, especially after that bus journey. I was very sad to see my Dutch friend leave, but he promised to meet up with me, maybe this year, and go diving together in the Red Sea....which I will hold him to!<br /><br /><br />I grabbed a cab and headed to the world famous waterway, trying to get there for 9am because that was when the big ships usually passed through. It was all rather fascinating though I was a little disappointed not to see any big cruise ships coming through. On top of that, my ex Jonathan, musician extraordinaire had only just finished his gig aboard Princess cruises and had been transiting the canal over the last several months and we'd missed each other by a few weeks. That would have been fun...to wave at him from the cafeteria as he stood on one of the ship's balconies. Kind of like when we met up in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">Civvitavechia</span>, hey <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">Jonny</span>?? ;-)<br /><br /><br />I watched two ships pass through the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">Miraflores</span> locks, one a container ship and the other an oil tanker. Seeing how little clearance the vessels have on either side is really astonishing, and how many people it takes to guide the ships through without hiccup. I really enjoyed the museum exhibits too which detailed future plans for two new sets of locks which would allow for much wider ships..up to 56 metres instead of the current 38 (gee, I hope I got that right...?) They also had a display on all of the bugs of <span class="il">Panama</span>, and displayed dead samples of some of the largest and ugliest beetles, spiders, stick insects, crickets and moths.<br /><br /><br />By the time I got back to the hostel, my dorm bed was ready for me, and Abraham was still there with a fresh new hair cut. I gave him the gift I'd bought him at the canal...an emergency rain jacket, after what had happened on the last afternoon in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">Boquette</span>. I bid my adieu, and then took a very needed shower and nap, hanging out in the hostel for the afternoon, arranging my trip for the next morning to head to San <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25">Blas</span> (<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26">Comarca</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27">de</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28">Kuna</span> Yale) and more Caribbean Paradise...<br /><br /><br />The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29">Kuna</span> are an indigenous people in <span class="il">Panama</span> and have retained autonomy from Panamanian government and basically self govern. I was looking forward to seeing them and their beautiful costumes...the women in particular have a distinct look: short hair with a headscarf, lots of gold jewellery, layered very colorful print clothing, and most notably, large and ornate jewellery for the legs which cover from the ankle to the knee. I would be staying on an island called <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30">Senidup</span> which was going to be a 90 minute boat ride from the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31">Carti</span> Airport where I flew into. <br /><br /><br />The flight I booked was only $40 (I didn't know how long I was going to stay so I decided I would probably take the jeep option back to the city) and originally was scheduled to leave at 6am. So you can imagine my relief when I received an email stating that it would be delayed until 10! <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32">Yay</span>!<br /><br /><br />I was meeting two friends that I'd made in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33">Bocas</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34">del</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35">Toro</span> on <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_36">Isla</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_37">Senidup</span>. The transfer there went pretty smoothly but on arrival, I came to be informed by my friends that despite the fact that the island itself was only the size of a football field, there were two owners of two distinct set of huts. Turns out, I had reserved the huts on the wrong side of the island... No problem, right? Well, apparently, the two owners have kind of a war going on between them, and during my 3 day stay, it felt very much like I was in an episode of Lost, and I was one of the "Others", because the two groups of backpackers staying on either side didn't seem to mingle that well. Given the size of the island, it was a little ridiculous.<br /><br /><br />As was what happened when I first got there. Explaining to the owner that I wanted to stay with my friends on the other side of the island, he got very agitated and started demanding that I pay, and at one point, he and his 3 buddies had me cornered in a straw hut screaming about money and threatening to throw my bags in the ocean. The fact that this was supposed to be the idyllic paradise "get away from it all" island didn't seem to be applying to my first encounter here. It turned out just to be a language mix up because all they had wanted was for me to pay for my boat transfer, which was easily accomplished by handing over $7. Phew.<br /><br /><br />Those 3 days were a very strange, wonderful and unique experience. I've visited many incredibly isolated and beautiful islands in my life...but I've never stayed on one that was this basic and untouched. And it was so cheap..one of the cheapest things I've done in my entire 3 months. The price was $20 a night for your hut, including breakfast, lunch and dinner! The days consisted of sleeping in till about 9am, walking around barefoot everywhere (even the straw huts had a sandy floor), eating meals in the communal straw hut, reading in hammocks looking over the crystal blue waters, snorkeling around the island's reef about twice a day, sunbathing, napping, drinking, taking another swim, chatting to other travellers, playing cards, another nap...you get the picture? That first day I also took a day trip over to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_38">Isla</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_39">Perros</span> and had the distinct joy of snorkeling an artificial reef created by a shipwreck of a vessel that had the sense to sink in 20 feet of water. It was incredible and the visibility was great as was the variety of the fish.<br /><br /><br />It was a really relaxing time and I enjoyed the company of my fellow islanders <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_40">muchly</span>, especially Katherine and Fabio (who owned a restaurant in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_41">Casco</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_42">Viejo</span> which they invited me to come visit when I got back to the city) and a Brit named Gabi who, like me, escaped England to go work abroad in Austria 8 years ago. She especially liked my singing, and in the evenings, I would become a human jukebox and sing songs on the beach around a fire as we listened to the only other sound which was the waves lapping the shore. Of course you all know how much I must have hated that. :-)<br /><br /><br />The afternoons on the island also brought thundershowers. It was a unique place to watch the lightning, especially in the evening when it lit up the entire sky. On my last morning there, we had a violent thunderstorm about 3am which lit up the whole island like it was daylight. Rain pouring in to my hut woke me up pretty suddenly...I had to switch bunks to avoid getting wet. My friends had left, and I admit to being a little frightened by the power of the thunderclaps which lasted for hours. What a memory though.<br /><br /><br />The only sad thing that happened during my 3 day stay in Paradise (other than the violent welcome I received) was that I accidentally dipped my camera in the ocean. Oops. It has stopped functioning, and whilst I may still be able to fix it, I am relieved that this happened near the end of my journey and not near the middle. At least my memory card is safe and had lots of pictures taken during the one really good day of weather on <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_43">Senidup</span>.<br /><br /><br />That jeep ride home was pretty rough going as we climbed up and over the central mountain range of <span class="il">Panama</span> before arriving back to the Pacific coast and the city. I ran into Gabi back at the hostel and we happily scampered out to grab dinner at Cafe Havana before she got a night bus to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_44">Bocas</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_45">del</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_46">Toro</span> which was her next destination of choice. We happily chatted over <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_47">mojitos</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_48">ceviche</span>, and Cuban sandwiches...and Gabi tried to convince me to grab my bags and come back with her to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_49">Bocas</span>. I must admit that I was very tempted indeed, especially since I had to head back to Costa Rica in any case. However, since I'd already given money to someone to buy me my bus ticket to San Jose and I hadn't really seen <span class="il">Panama</span> city yet, I reluctantly declined.<br /><br /><br />In hindsight, I kind of wish I had just gone with her, but then again, it might not have had the same magical appeal as the first visit did, and it would forever alter my perception of it. and the time I had there.<br /><br /><br />I had two more days in <span class="il">Panama</span> city and I explored. The first day I walked, for miles, around <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_50">Casco</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_51">Viejo</span> and took in all the major sights and monuments to a <span class="il">Panama</span> city of yesterday, that is experiencing much investment into renovation and restructuring. In fact, you could generally hear drilling from 7 in the morning from my hostel which made early starts much easier. Right before the afternoon rainy season storm, I grabbed a cab to the bus station (my friend wasn't able to buy my bus ticket without my passport! So I could have gone to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_52">Bocas</span> and not felt bad about that!) and bought my ticket for Tuesday night to San Jose (arriving at 3:30pm the next day) then went to catch a movie and some needed air conditioning. It was hot, hot I tell you!<br /><br /><br />That night I went to visit Katherine's restaurant, Indigo, and dined like a princess. The food was amazing, I enjoyed a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_53">passion fruit</span> infused <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_54">ceviche</span> of Sole, followed by fresh baked goat cheese and spinach <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_55">spanikopita</span>, and topped off with the softest fudge chocolate cake ever and coconut ice cream. And a bottle of wine. Fantastic. At Katherine's request, I stayed and sang songs too until about 2 in the morning, and developed my Panamanian fan base. They all plotted to keep me there and enter me for Panamanian idol. It was a wonderful night to remember!<br /><br /><br />My final day I went north for a hike around the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_56">Parque</span> Natural <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_57">Metropolitano</span> and promptly left after 15 minutes and about 1000 mosquito bites! ouch! A cab picked me up and scolded me for walking around the area alone, telling me that it was very dangerous. I agreed, but primarily because of the mosquitoes. I asked to be taken to Ave Balboa, to a spot where I could enjoy a stroll along the water. Of course, I was told. Yeah, my ass. Ave Balboa was completely closed due to construction, and I ended up walking through it to a neighborhood where I could hail another cab, all the while enduring constant whistles and cat calls from the construction workers I passed. I have never in all my travels, met men who felt they had more of a right to vocalize their intentions towards women as I found in <span class="il">Panama</span> city. Nearly every passing car, some guy yelled out to me, sometimes sweet things, other times more vulgar. That's not counting all of the "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_58">Chica</span>"", ""<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_59">Amore</span>!", "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_60">Corazon</span>!"" shouts I counted. At times I thought maybe I should be flattered, but the thing is this: the cat calls are not discriminating...they are directed to most all women. Its just an everyday normal thing.<br /><br /><br />Finally I visited the causeway which joins 4 islands together and has great views of the city, the canal, and the rest of the ocean on the other side. I rented a bike and went for a casual ride, stopping for a delicious lunch of garlic shrimp. After some last minute shopping, I returned to Luna's, showered, re-packed, ate some sushi and grabbed a cab with my fellow traveller, Sarah, for the international terminal. <br /><br /><br />That bus ride was a nightmare. They had the air con blasting so much it must have dropped below 50 degrees Fahrenheit. I was wearing every layer I had and burying my face into my sweater to stop my nose icing over. Couldn't sleep it was so cold. Then we were awoken by the loudest music imaginable at 5am to tell us we were at the border with Costa Rica. The border crossing took 3 and a 1/2 hours because they strip searched our bus for drugs. I've never stood around just waiting in the heat for so long, when I was so tired before. What made things worse was my last minute realization that my flight home from San Jose could have been changed to return from <span class="il">Panama</span> City!!! I simply hadn't considered this as a possibility until the last day, and then I was faced with having to come back to San Jose because I had left 1/2 of my luggage here!! That's travelling brain for you...where has mine gone I ask you?<br /><br /><br />I managed to sleep for the next few hours despite the LOUD and horrifically violent movies they seem to always play on buses. We arrived in San Jose and jumped on another bus for <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_61">Alajuela</span> (the town closest to the airport) and checked into the hotel where I had stashed my things two weeks ago.... After pizza, we came here, I wrote this letter....and now its time to end....go back and pack.....and face the fact that my odyssey has come to a close.<br /><br /><br />My flight is at 8am tomorrow so I'll be leaving around 6am. I plan to write an epilogue of sorts on my return and provide some overall observations of my time spent here.<br /><br /><br />I look forward to seeing many of you in the coming days and weeks!!!Anitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15626168590750165296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4491582739399341065.post-67715093070142960532009-05-28T13:44:00.000-07:002010-07-27T14:29:25.595-07:00Panama Adventure I<div>I have changed my flight yet again...for the last time, I think! I fly home on June 4<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">th</span> and am very very sad that my journey is coming to an end. It has been an incredible trip that interestingly has improved as the weeks went by...I feel like I am finally in the groove of travelling, and alas, it is time to return to reality and look for work. Sob.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />I last left you on my return from the top of the world after my climb up <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Huayna</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Potosi</span>. I spent the next two days in La <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Paz</span> as I was unable to change my flight to leave earlier to go back to Central America. As it turned out, I really needed the rest. The first day I just slept, got a massage, did email and then spent the afternoon going out with the boys to see the Sunday afternoon locals´entertainment of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Cholita</span>´s wrestling. What is a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Cholita</span>? It is an indigenous Bolivian woman living in the city who continues to wear traditional dress. It was supposed to be riotous fun.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />It was not. I don´t know what had happened on the day that other travellers went, who had recommended this activity to me, but I´m not sure if I could describe it as fun. Public display of female abuse would be a more appropriate description. Whilst the fighting is only supposed to look ¨real¨, the message that it sent to the crowd was extremely disturbing. </div> <div> </div> <div><br />We watched as guys fought, as the opening act, and then the first set of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Cholitas</span> appeared (one was a dwarf, or is it midget? <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Can</span>´t remember which is politically correct) and we basically watched them get repeatedly punched, slapped, kicked and beaten to a pulp. At one point, the midget was hit so violently in the skull that fake blood poured down her face. Just as she was cowering and crying in the corner of the ring, the aggressor took one of her pigtails and lit it on fire. It was very disturbing and a bunch of people left. We just kind of sat and stared. </div> <div> </div> <div><br />Afterwards, I felt quite tormented. The boys and I took off for a slap up meal which we found at the first restaurant I had visited upon my arrival in La <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Paz</span> two weeks ago After, to dull the visions of beaten <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">cholitas</span>, we all went to the movies to see Angels and Demons which was a lot of fun. Then we said our goodbyes as the boys were leaving in the morning for Sucre. Ah....alone again! Sniff.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />My final day in La <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Paz</span> took me around the city actually as a tourist for the first time. I visited the Coca museum to learn the history of the leaf that is so negatively viewed back home (source of cocaine production), the Witches Market, strolled down the Prado and visited the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Sopacochi</span> neighborhood.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />The next day was an epic journey day. I took a cab at 6am to the airport and flew from La <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Paz</span> to Lima where I had a 2 hour layover before my flight to San Jose. On arrival in San Jose, I took a cab to an airport hotel where I unloaded half of my stuff in storage as I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">wouldn</span>´t be needing all the winter clothes whilst travelling in the tropics. Back in a cab, we navigated a torrential thunderstorm to get me to the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Caribe</span> Terminal where I boarded a 4 hour bus bound for <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Puerto</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">Viejo</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">de</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">Talamanca</span>, a southerly Caribbean beach town near the border of <span class="il">Panama</span>. </div> <div> </div> <div><br />I was absolutely exhausted upon arrival and opted for my own hotel room where I could just take a shower and get some needed rest. I was hounded by some locals as I walked the five blocks to the hotel, and learning how many people were mugged over the next day in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">Puerto</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">Viejo</span>, I realise now how stupid I was to walk there alone in the dark.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />It was very strange to feel the humidity in the air again...and to be able to breathe!! I was back at sea level, and very excited to experience some BEACH.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />The following morning I set about deciding if I was going to stay in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">Puerto</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">Viejo</span> for the day, or if I´d catch the bus straight to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">Bocas</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">del</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25">Toro</span> in <span class="il">Panama</span>. I set out for some breakfast to mull the decision over coffee and met up with 3 lads from Montana who promptly invited me to stay at their hostel and hang out with them for the day. We decided to rent some bikes and ride down to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26">Manzanilla</span> stopping at beaches and snorkeling along the way. Sounded like a great idea, and they even offered to carry my bags for me! Never gonna be concerned with travelling alone ever again!</div> <div> </div> <div><br />The day was perfect. The ride was leisurely and the scenery lush. We spotted monkeys as we cruised along, stopping a couple times to swim and frolic in the surf. At <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27">Manzanilla</span> we enjoyed one of the best lunches I've had on the trip: Garlic shrimp and coconut rice. Delicious.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />Getting back to our hostel, I headed over to the beach to watch the sunset and met 3 people who would become friends over the next several days in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28">Bocas</span> Del <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29">Toro</span>: <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30">Aurelien</span>, Matt, and Kelly. We all decided to head over to a bar after dinner that was playing live music (I was hoping to be able to sing, which I did! <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31">Remey</span>, one of the three guys I'd met at breakfast was quite the musician and played guitar while I sang "Me and Bobby McGee" made famous by Janis Joplin). It was a good evening followed by dancing at a club downtown which we arrived at in style after hopping on to the tailgate of a passing truck. Ah, good times.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />In the morning, a group of us jumped in a minivan headed for the border and the backpacker haven (or should I say pit of sin) of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32">Bocas</span> Del <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33">Toro</span>, situated on the beautiful <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34">Isla</span> Colon in the blue Caribbean azure. The town didn't look like much as we sweatily clambered off of the water taxi that had brought us here, but it would soon grow on me in its affection. I knew where I wanted to stay and began to haul my bags north up the main drag, losing the guys in the process to a haggler trying to sell them a dorm at his hostel. Weak, I tell you!</div> <div> </div> <div><br />I was very happy with my digs, named <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35">Mondo</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_36">Taitu</span>, which became as much a character in my stay as the islands themselves. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_37">Mondo</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_38">Taitu</span> has a funky appeal with bright colors, hammocks littered across balconies, and a free pancake breakfast. Each night hosts happy hour with prices that make your head spin: beer for 50c and cocktails for a buck. We never missed a happy hour. </div> <div> </div> <div><br />Matt and Kelly were already there and I added Christina, Abraham, and Carina to the list of friends whom I made during my stay. We became quite a connected happy little bunch. After a shower and a happy hour, I decided to lay down for five minutes in my dorm before heading out. </div> <div> </div> <div><br />I woke up the next morning at 8am.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />Wanting to head out and see more of the islands, I joined a sailing trip aboard a catamaran which took a leisurely day out to such points as Dolphin Bay and coral key, stopping along the way at choice snorkeling spots. I'd been told that the visibility was particularly bad here, but I was pleasantly surprised by the color of the coral which we found in the shallower areas. It poured out of the sky in the early afternoon and we all had to take shelter inside the boat and wait for it to pass. All in all, by 4pm I was completely mellowed out and operating on island time, blissfully ignorant of the time on my watch except for when it would signify happy hour, of course.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />Stopping by the supermarket on my way back to the hostel, I was stunned to find they had fresh milk for sale. Not being able to resist, I bought the half a gallon bottle together with a slice of fudge cake and sat in the sun gloriously gulping down the white stuff that I hadn't imbibed in nearly 3 months. It was spectacular. </div> <div> </div> <div><br />Walking into the hostel I was greeted by a familiar face from <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_39">Puerto</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_40">Viejo</span>: <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_41">Aurelien</span> (from Paris) had decided to travel south and spend a few days at <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_42">Mondo</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_43">Taitu</span> as well. The whole "crew" from Rocking J's was here. It was going to be a good stay.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />That night we all got a taste of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_44">Bocas</span>' night life, where every single night, women drink for free. It is shamefully hedonistic and blatant in its marketing, but it seems to work, because the entire town seems to visit only one specific different bar each night of the week, which makes for a fun, if slightly high school atmosphere. I happily danced the night away until sleep beckoned. Even then, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_45">Aurelien</span> and I ended up hanging out on the balcony outside my room for the next several hours anyway...</div> <div> </div> <div><br />The next day, having woken too late for a boat trip, Matt organized us into a beach targeted group and we grabbed a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_46">collectivo</span> to the north of the island and a stretch of beach called <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_47">Bocas</span> Del <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_48">Drago</span>. It was picture perfect with little surf, swaying palm trees, white sand, and lots and lots of starfish. It was the perfect beach day with swimming, a delicious lunch of red snapper sitting in swim gear, snorkeling, exploring, and taking lots of pictures. This was paradise. Little did I know it could get even better.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />The following morning <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_49">Aurelien</span> was distraught as his ATM card didn't seem to be functioning. I offered to buy breakfast, and during the meal it occurred to me that when the same thing happened to me in Copacabana, Bolivia, I went to a hotel and they kindly ran my card through their merchant machines in order to give me cash back. After trying the story out at several retailers we found a dive shop who was willing to give him cash. Relieved at being able to "do" things again, we immediately booked a boat charter out to the one island I desperately wanted to visit before leaving this place:<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_50">Isla</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_51">Zapatillo</span>. It is supposed to be the most beautiful and unspoilt of the islands, completely uninhabited and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_52">circumnavigable</span> on foot in about 30 minutes.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />Despite being horrendously delayed by this very strange Persian man who insisted on making 7 of us wait an hour for him while he ate lunch at a stop along the way, it was an incredible day. I felt like I was in a movie and luxuriously breathed in the incredible scenery and utterly crystal clear water that lapped at our toes. It was so so beautiful, and I think honestly to say it was the best beach I've ever seen in my life. We ate a picnic under a palm tree and then happily lazed away the next five hours or so we had before being forced (literally) to get back in the boat and head back to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_53">Isla</span> Colon. </div> <div> </div> <div><br />I knew I needed to leave this place the next morning in the same way I know I need to leave <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_54">Las</span> Vegas after 3 days. This kind of self indulgence was starting to get to me. So after another memorable night spent at a club that was designed around a sunken ship and artificial reef, complete with sand, I packed up my bags, and Abraham (lovely sweet Dutch guy from Utrecht who had been travelling with Christina for the past month and who was headed back to Columbia) and I headed down to the docks for our water taxi and subsequent buses on to the mountain, and coffee town of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_55">Boquette</span>.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />After five hours of buses, Abraham and I felt the shift in climate and donned another layer. It was a welcome relief to experience a little chill, and watch the daily afternoon downpour come down over the cloud forest, and this little town which is apparently rated as the third best place to retire in the world! Walking over to our hostel in the rain, I couldn't help feeling disappointed at the unearthly quiet that abounded. I was <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_56">de</span>-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_57">bocasing</span>. It was going to take a day or so. I was already missing my friends. The parties. The happy hour. The beaches. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_58">Mondo</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_59">Taitu</span>! But no, it was time to move on and travel.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />After setting down our bags in our hostel of second choice (the first was full! Damn!) we headed out for a good meal to lift our spirits. And we found it in a little American owned restaurant called Bistro <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_60">Boquette</span>. As soon as we arrived, a server came over and poured us both ice water. It was so beautiful it almost brought tears to my eyes.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />We happily dined on rather expensive (for travelling that is) <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_61">fillet</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_62">Mignon</span> with garlic mashed potatoes, red wine, and a brownie with ice cream for dessert. It was fantastic. After booking a trip to go white water rafting the next day, we settled in for the night at our hostel by watching a movie with our fellow <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_63">roomies</span> (some of whom had also arrived from <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_64">Mondo</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_65">Taitu</span>).</div> <div> </div> <div><br />I'll leave it there for now as its getting rather long...I am in <span class="il">Panama</span> City now and will be leaving for the San <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_66">Blas</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_67">Archipegalo</span> in a few days for my last dose of sunshine before heading Stateside. </div> <div> </div> <div><br />Much love to you all!</div>Anitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15626168590750165296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4491582739399341065.post-50909995115822064212009-05-22T13:40:00.000-07:002010-07-27T14:20:57.214-07:00Bolivia Adventure Part II<div>By the way!! I have FINALLY uploaded pictures from the last month on Picasa...here is the address (haven't had time to write captions yet, but I will!)</div> <div> </div> <div><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/anitalgray/Boliva2009" target="_blank">http://picasaweb.google.com/<wbr>anitalgray/Boliva2009</a>#</div> <div> </div> <div><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/anitalgray/PeruvianAmazonAndLakeTiticacca" target="_blank">http://picasaweb.google.com/<wbr>anitalgray/<wbr>PeruvianAmazonAndLakeTiticacca</a><wbr>#</div> <div> </div> <div><br />I write this from the Carribean shores of Bocas Del Toro in Panama. I feel very behind in recording my adventures during the middle of my time in <span class="il">Bolivia</span>, and if I do not complete my story with due haste, I feel it may be overtaken with the far warmer memories I am creating at this moment.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />I already wrote to you about climbing Huayna Potosi, and the previous email, I believe, left off with me the night before I joined a tour of the Salt Flats and the volcanic region south of them, on the border with Chile.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />We left early in the morning for the train station as we were told that there were strikes going on in downtown La Paz and the journey to the bus station might be slow going. As it was, we were fine. The station was an experience for its toilets, which were quite disgusting..and like so many bathrooms in South America, inexplicably gave you a ticket for paying to use the facilities. Why do they do this? Are armed police going to raid you in the stall, mid pee, and demand to see your ticket?</div> <div> </div> <div><br />The bus journey to Oruro was uneventful (yet again, I was the new addition to the group of 10 travellers and they didn't seem too keen to engage me) but I was very happy to see Michael, Tiago and Samara at the train station as we collected our tickets for the 7 hour train ride to Uyuni...one of the coldest placest on earth with temperatures in the winter of up to -100 degrees celcius. We all lunched together and then got on the train.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />Unfortunately, they were playing The Curious Case of Benjamin Button on the train. Whilst I love this movie, it is a very sad memory for me when I saw it for the first time, and that coupled with the fact that it is a very sad movie overall, had me crying for about 3 hours of the journey and arriving in a rather sour mood which was not aided by the fact that none of my new comrades wanted to share a room with me. Probably for the best, I cried myself to sleep.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />We piled in groups of 4 into our 4x4's for the next 3 days and headed off to see the world's largest salt flats. The tour itself turned out to be somewhat disappointing with absolutely no interpretation...we were just driven around and told to get out at various points of interest and take photos. Not that the locations were not stunning, because they were. </div> <div> </div> <div><br />The first day was a highlight for me as we took a lot of perspective photographs in the area of blindingly white ground, piercingly blue sky, and sun that could burn your eyes if you walked around without protection. The idea was to have objects in the foreground appearing to interact as if in the same plane and space with objects (usually other people) way way in the background, creating unique illusions. This was a lot of fun, but took a good while to get a hang of together with a lot of patience. </div> <div> </div> <div><br />We also visited a very strange mountain covered in cacti which stood in the middle of the salt and seemed very oddly out of place. The entire area was like an illusion, especially as we drove on the horizonless "freeways" of salt that carried no mark or indication of direction. I would not want to be stuck out here with my own car.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />That first night we stayed in a hostel that was made entirely of salt. Really. You could lick the walls. The ground was covered in thousands of salt crystals which crunched as you walked on them. Definitely an alternative to floor vacuuming and cleaning. ?</div> <div> </div> <div><br />It was very cold that night, but thankfully our room, though not heated, had good protection against drafts. The evening meal was spent bundled up and ladling soup complete with gloves. My new group seemed to love playing cards, but I didn't join in, opting to read instead. Later, some musical talent from a local school stopped by to sing and dance for us. That was very sweet and we all tipped and thanked them.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />The next two days we continued our journey south stopping at incredibly colorful lagoons scattered with flamingoes, unusual rock formations that stood out in stark contrast to the unending desert behind them, and beautiful volcanoes that had a pretty sprinkling of snow on top of them. </div> <div> </div> <div><br />Our second night was far more frigid than the first and we resorted to wearing nearly ALL of the clothes we'd brought with us whilst trying to keep warm in the silly thin sleeping bags the company provided, all the while inside the beds covered in 7 more woolen blankets. If you didn't lay awake from the cold, it was from fear of being smothered by the weight of the covers. Just turning over was quite a task.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />That morning we had to ready ourselves in the dark (other than a plastic roof which let in a blustery wind, the hostel only had electricity from 7-9pm) using our headlamps and set out into the night sky at 430 in the morning. our first stop were some steaming geysers and bubbling mud pots, which ended up being quite wonderful to stand in front of, trying to warm our butts and hands in the steam.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />The thermal baths, therefore, came as a very welcome sight. Our guide had said she didn't like them because they were too hot, but I for one think she is mad, and after dipping in a toe, needed absolutely no encouragement to strip in the frigid cold and dive right in (keeping my wooly peruvian hat on, of course). The water was fantastic and Tiago and I were the first ones in. Lots of people came up to the water, hesitatingly putting in their toes only despite our shrieks for them to f*%^*ing get their kit off and get in! "Oh, but it'll be too cold to get out again!" Clearly none of them had lived in a ski resort long enough to know that if you sit in a hot tub for 30 minutes, you're very much protected from the chilly night air for at least a few minutes after you get out. After much whining, we were joined by more people as they got up the nerve.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />I bid goodbye to my friends that afternoon as Michael headed back to La Paz on the night bus, and Tiago and Samara went on to San Pedro de Atacama (which, ironically was only about 20kms from where we were...and where I had spent such a fantastic time in March, 2008). I loved meeting you guys and hope that we stay in touch!!</div> <div> </div> <div><br />That night getting back to Uyuni, we were all in need of some solid gringo food and fell upon the most delicious pizza, apparently, in <span class="il">Bolivia</span> and washed it down with fresh homemade chocolate cake (heated!!) and ice cream. It was fantastic.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />The following day we had a long, hungry, bus journey to Potosi, followed by an even more famished trip to visit the world famous unesco world heritage silver mines of Potosi. Somehow our guide had neglected to realize that the mines would not be worth visiting in the morning as it was a Sunday, and therefore had last minute arranged for us to have a late afternoon tour on Saturday. However, it didn't afford us any time to stop for lunch. By the time we had our second meal of the day it was 945 pm! Luckily, I had leftover pizza from the night before to tie me over.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />The 3 hour or so visit to the mines will stay with me for a very very long time. The mines are now almost stripped of silver, during the time of Spanish conquest, thousands of African slaves were brought over the ocean to work the mines in unbearable circumstances, sometimes being forced to stay in and work in the mines for six months at a time. The descendants of the lucky few slaves who survived make up the tiny african bolivian population who live in the north of the country. We all bought gifts for the miners which consisted of coca leaves (which the miners chew religiously to battle symptoms of altitude, since the mine is at 4300 metres, as well as to suppress appetite and provide energy to work in the deplorable conditions) cigarettes, unfiltered, and sticks of dynamite. The mine is a cooperative, and each miner is not salaried, his wage is determined by the amount of mineral he is able to extract and sell. The principal minerals being sold today are tin and lead.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />These miners work in horrifically cramped spaces, at 4300 metres, in temperatures of 45 degrees celcius (115 degrees fahreinheit), breathing air that is full of noxious fumes such as cyanide, and silica dust, carry loads of rock up to 100 kilos at a time on their backs several times a day through miles and miles of back breaking low clearance tunnels, risk their lives from accidental death or dismemberment due to explosives, and generally have a life expectancy of about 15 years after entering full time work in the mines, at which time they usually contract silicosis pneumonia. We asked several groups of miners how much they were able to make for a day's work: Their answer? Between $6 and $9 a day. If they have to stop working due to a loss of lung capacity of MORE than 50%..they can earn a pension of $1.50 a week.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />I will never again complain about the working conditions of any job I have back home again.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />We were all completely filthy and having great difficulty breathing after just two hours in the mine. Just walking was hard enough. I couldn't begin to imagine actually spending 8-10 hours a day here. It was too difficult to contemplate. The passageways were impossibly cramped and my heart was racing at some points from the fear created by such enclosed spaces. At some points we literally had to crawl on all fours and squeeze through the narrowest of halls. When asked if we wanted to go visit a blast site a few of us volunteered.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />I soon asked myself what on earth I was doing as I found myself climbing up a ladder with more rungs missing than present (definitely no health and safety code in <span class="il">Bolivia</span>) all the while with rocks and silica crashing down on my helmet and clothes. The passageway at the top of the ladder was not only tiny, but it had a significant degree of slope to it. Susie, who was ahead of me, was having a very hard time and eventually decided to back out. We were told that during the day, as many as 10 men would be working in this tiny tiny space. We all backed out and had quite a difficult time squeezing back down the shaft, not able to look down. I was very unnerved by it all.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />Thankful to be back out into the fresh air (still hard to breathe though because of the altitude, Potosi is the highest town of its size in the world) we were next given the opportunity to experience a dynamite explosion. How cool? Well, first I managed to get a photo of me holding the lighted stick of dynamite before a volunteer together with the guide ran down the hillside to set the charges before legging it back to where we were. When the first bang came, I almost fell over from the sheer force of it. It was incredible. Forget taking a picture..I practically dropped my camera.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />After a memorable morning spent wandering the streets of Potosi, which had many seemingly moorish influences in its architecture, we all jumped in cabs for the 3 hour ride to the capital of <span class="il">Bolivia</span>> Sucre.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />Our hotel was lovely, and at this point, I was enjoying my unpopularity in the group because I was still enjoying a room all to myself. After a yummy dinner we headed out for karaoke which Sole, our guide, had arranged. Of course, everyone in the group just wanted to have fun and I wanted to SING. And I wanted to sing alone, not with the entire group crooning drunkenly along with me. <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">That's</span> not karaoke for me, at least (but as you all know, I'm weird and a voice snob). Disappointed, I headed back to my room and settled in for a delightful if subtitled movie in bed. <br /><br />Much better.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />I thoroughly enjoyed exploring the white capital of Sucre the next day. It was a stunning little city, and one in which I think I could happily live for a while. There were parks and trees everywhere with little outdoor cafes and lots of places to sit and watch the world go by. I was thrilled to find a beautiful <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Potosi</span> silver ring for a ridiculous price, and drink glasses of fresh "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">tambo</span>"...unripe passion fruit juice, at the local market. In the evening, a few of us took a cab up the main hill to a cafe called <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Mirador</span> which had an incredible patio view over the entire city. It could have been Spain or Tuscany with the setting sun warming our toes as we sipped tea and ate fantastic chocolate cake. I was in heaven.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />On our last day in Sucre, 3 of us decided to go on a guided walk through the mountain range east of the city, the Cordillera <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">de</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">los</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Frailles</span>. The route took us first down an original Inca trail (apparently part of the trail that connected <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Buenos</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Aires</span> to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Machu</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Picchu</span>), through villages inside an ancient volcanic crater strewn with violet and red rocks, and then several miles further over hills to a set of original and fossilized dinosaur footprints. They were fantastic and much better than expected as we could walk right up to them. Anywhere else in the world and these incredible <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">artifacts</span> would be cornered off away from tourists and viewable only by binoculars. The scenery was also very different from all else I'd experienced thus far on this trip, and together with the green hills, dramatic rock shades, glorious sunshine, and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">abundant</span> eucalyptus trees, I would have guessed I was in Australia. </div> <div> </div> <div><br />It was a long 18 km hike followed by a two hour off road drive through rivers and over many boulders. We were wrecked by the time we got back and after a shower, I barely had the strength to make it to a restaurant and get food to go.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />The next morning a few of us boarded a plane back to La <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Paz</span> as the rest of the group continued on their South American odyssey on to Santa Cruz and Brazil. I was looking forward to doing my own thing again...and as I mentioned in my last email..I decided on that flight to climb <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Huayna</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Potosi</span>. The rest you know!</div> <div> </div> <div><br />OK...I will leave you there and pick up next time with my last two days in La <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">Paz</span> before flying back to Costa Rica and journeying on to Panama where I am now.</div>Anitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15626168590750165296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4491582739399341065.post-25136407380904662902009-05-17T13:34:00.000-07:002010-07-27T14:20:57.215-07:00Bolivia Adventure Part III (part II coming later!)For the first time since my <span class="il">adventure</span> began two months ago, I am going to write to you out of sequence. That´s because I just completed what has to be the greatest physical challenge of my life to date...the 3 day expedition I took to climb <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Huayna</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Potosi</span>, a stunning mountain in the Cordillera Real of Northern <span class="il">Bolivia</span>, just a few feet shy of 20,000 feet. It was the worst and best experience simultaneously, however, by far I believe it will be the most memorable moment of this trip (if not of recent years) and something I will look back on in utter disbelief for many years to come.<br /><br /><br />I returned to La <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Paz</span> on the 13<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">th</span> of May and had a flight booked to San Jose, Costa Rica for the morning of the 14<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">th</span>. For some unknown reason, however, I had it in my head that I wanted to tackle this 6088 m peak...and set out to explore my options for joining an expedition, and whether changing my flights was even a possibility. My Kiwi guide whom had accompanied me on the World´s Most Dangerous Road had told me that he had climbed the mountain the week before, and that whilst it was the most gruelling trek, he said that the views and experience was <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">otherworldy</span>. So, I had been thinking about it over the past week, and I don´t know why (I really need my head examining) but I decided I had to do it on the flight from Sucre to La <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Paz</span>.<br /><br /><br />On arrival in La <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Paz</span> I went to a travel agency and called the trekking company my guide had recommended, and was disappointed to hear that they <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">didn't</span> have a group leaving for the summit until May 22. A few more calls to other agencies left me similarly disappointed. Just when I thought I should give up and leave <span class="il">Bolivia</span> in the morning, I came across an agency by the same name as the mountain, and they had a group leaving for the 3 day trip in the morning! I walked there and spoke for a while with the owner, a mountaineer and ER doctor with a crazy and generous personality, and pondered my options. He explained the route, the ice climbing training on the first day during <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">acclimatization</span>, the risks of altitude sickness, physical fitness requirements, and all the gear that I would need to rent if I had a chance at success. He seemed very pleased that I had essentially been at altitude for a month, and assured me that I <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">shouldn't</span> have a problem, but that he would give me some drugs in the event I started to feel sick. <br /><br /><br />When I explained that I needed to first check and see if I could alter my flight...he offered to take me directly to the airline office because he wanted an excuse ¨to get out of the office for a while!¨¨ How kind. We hopped in a taxi which took us down to La <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Paz</span>´main thorough fare of The Prado whereupon he helped me secure a flight out on Tuesday next week, giving me two more days in La <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Paz</span> after we got back. It seemed a lot of time, but then again, I would probably be needing at least a day of rest on return (too right) and then one more day to actually SEE La <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Paz</span> (which I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">hadn</span>´t yet) before departure. So, it all worked out and we cabbed back to the office where I proceeded to pay the $140 for the whole trip and sign my life away for the <span class="il">adventure</span>.<br /><br /><br />Funnily enough, one of the girls from my 10 day tour of <span class="il">Bolivia</span>, Helen, who had the same flight booked as me tomorrow but connecting onward to Santiago, also decided to come on the trek after hearing me talking about it on the flight from Sucre! I asked her if she had any idea what she was getting herself into, to which she happily responded ¨no, but a great spur of the moment decision, right?¨¨ As yet, I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">wasn</span>´t so sure...I was pretty anxious but excited at the same time.<br /><br /><br />I called my sister back in England and told her about my plans and asked her to try and dull the details to my mom. I tried to tell her not to worry, and that I would be in touch as soon as I returned to La <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">Paz</span> on Saturday afternoon.<br /><br /><br />It was a somewhat restless night as I contemplated postponing my departure until the next morning so I could have one day to rest before this gruelling excursion...but Helen convinced me to come along with her. OK, then.<br /><br /><br />If I´d had one more day to really contemplate what I was about to do, I may have pulled out anyway!<br /><br /><br />Off we set for the van which took our trekking group of 8 (though one of the trekkers, Wolfgang from Germany was setting out to complete the ascent in two days instead of 3) to the company´s equipment rental store where we were all kitted out with gloves, crampons, gaiters, plastic boots, ice axes, jackets, down jackets, head-scarf combos, extra wool socks, backpacks, and climbing harnesses. Each pile of necessary gear was enormous and I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">wasn</span>´t looking forward to carrying it all up to high camp...<br /><br /><br />The drive was 2 hours and we all excitedly chatted about what lay ahead and stopped a few times to get photos of the massive peak as it got bigger and bigger as we approached. I kept thinking...was I going to make it?<br /><br /><br />Arriving at base camp, I was pleasantly <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">surprised</span> at the charming little <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">refugio</span> where we were to spend the night. It had several rooms filled with bed bunks, and a cozy living area with combo dining room-kitchen and a lovely open fireplace providing the only heating in the building for the chilly night ahead at 4700 metres. <br /><br /><br />After a home cooked lunch, we strapped on our gear and harnesses and headed out for the hour walk to the foot of the glacier for some ice climbing-crampon-ice axe training.<br /><br /><br />I had some experience with this equipment so I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">wasn</span>´t too nervous. Turned out that it was a good thing I was there as I was the only person on the trip who could speak Spanish well enough to translate the guide´s instructions to the group about the various methods of ascent and descent. We spent roughly 3 hours there, ending with a rappel down the side of the ice. Lots of fun and hopefully the information had stuck enough in our heads and bodies to be of help on summit day (though at the time it <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">didn</span>´t really dawn on me just how much harder it was going to be to scale a wall of ice and snow in complete darkness).<br /><br /><br />After our trek back to the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">refugio</span>, we were famished and dined heartily on vegetable soup and pasta...<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">carbing</span> it up for tomorrow. After some welcome Coca <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">de</span> Mate tea around the fire with my new companions, I headed upstairs to my sleeping bag and an early night. Of course I filled my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25">Nalgene</span> with hot water first to serve as a welcome hot water bottle for my frozen toes.<br /><br /><br />I slept <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26">surprisingly</span> well, despite the altitude (insomnia is notorious at these heights) and after breakfast, we welcomed the group from that morning´s summit attempt (including Wolfgang) as they trickled in around 10-11:30 am. I was very disturbed to learn that of their group of six, only three had made it to the summit. The other three (all girls, I might add) had turned around after just a few hundred metres higher than high camp, vomiting and suffering from horrendous headaches and disorientation. They looked pretty shaken and weary. But then again, so did the triumphant three who had made it. I asked them about their experience and it did little to <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27">allay</span> my own fears. Very tough, difficulty breathing, narrow ridges with extreme sheer drops either side, harder than they had thought it would be, yet entirely amazing, were all descriptions of what lay ahead. <br /><br /><br />Gulp.<br /><br /><br />After lunch, our group geared up and set off for the 3 hour or so ascent to 5300 metres and the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28">refugio</span> at <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29">Campo</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30">Argentino</span>...high camp where we would attempt to get some sleep before our 12:30am wake up call to begin the summit day. (NOW THAT´s EARLY!) I found the walk to be pretty easy and was pleased at how well I was breathing. Saying that, I had copped out just a little and paid a porter to carry the heaviest items of my gear...and I´m not ashamed of it! I wanted to have the best possible chance at making the summit, and I thought that saving my legs was probably a good idea. Helen agreed with me and we shared the cost between us.<br /><br /><br />The views as we climbed got more and more spectacular, but the peak still seemed an impossibly distant and far away treasure. We got to the snow line around 4pm and scrambled up over rocks where we could to reach the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31">refugio</span>. Watching the sun set over distant <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32">Illimani</span> and the other peaks of the Cordillera Real range was a sight that was breathtaking...especially with all of the clouds hovering below where we stood, seemingly at the top of the world. <br /><br /><br />But no, that was for tomorrow (or tonight, if you think of midnight that way!)<br /><br /><br />The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33">refugio</span> was tiny but very cute...we all lined up like sardines on the one top ¨´single´bunk bed, happy to be close to one another for warmth. I was very much enjoying the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34">camaraderie</span> that was developing between our happy little international group : countries represented amongst us were France, the US, Canada, the UK, and Israel. We chatted happily and shared stories from our travels and conjectured about what may lay ahead, over bowls of chicken soup ( which I had to force down my throat because I was not hungry at all).<br /><br /><br />The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35">refugio</span> also contained the worst outhouse I´<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_36">ve</span> ever seen, it does not even bare description, lets just say it was ¨´overflowing¨¨ and one was far better off choosing to do one´s business behind a rock despite the bitterly cold night air.<br /><br /><br />We all agreed on lights out at 6:30pm, and despite the early hour, attempted to crawl into our bags and get some shut eye before our ridiculously early start. I lay there, anxious and heart pounding from the altitude, feeling a little out of breath just from turning right or left in the bed, or re-arranging the bag. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_37">WTF</span>. Shit.<br /><br /><br />I got maybe an hour of restless sleep. It was just too high to get hard sleep. And I lay there for an hour trying to convince myself to get out of my sleeping bag because I needed to pee, not wanting to step out into the icy night. It was time to prep for the big day, and it was madness in the tiny <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_38">refugio</span> as the seven of tried to sort out our day packs, water, gear, headlamps, and plastic boots.<br /><br /><br />Stepping out into the still of the night, I will never forget the excitement and thrill that lingered in the air, the bright stars shining overhead lighting up just the outline of the majestic peaks surrounding us. And the cold. God it was cold....around -15 degrees <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_39">Celsius</span> without the wind factor. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_40">Brrrr</span>.<br /><br /><br />I was going to be in a rope team with just my guide...<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_41">Gualberto</span>, since we were an odd numbered group (plus, he´d probably correctly figured out that I was going to be the slowest of the group). <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_42">Gualberto</span> helped me as I struggled to tighten the second pair of plastic boots I had (the first were horrendously too big and he had another pair sent up from La <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_43">Paz</span> for me) and affix them to my crampons and thick gaiters. Affixing my headlamp onto my <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_44">woolly</span> hat to light the few feet ahead of me, we set out into the dark silence. My heart was racing.<br /><br /><br />It was 2am, and my team was the penultimate to leave.<br /><br /><br />The going was tough and looking back on it...it was also somewhat of a mental blur. I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_45">couldn</span>´t think of anything more but trying to control my breath, attempting to get more oxygen in my lungs by forcing air in and out through pursed lips. It helped at first but got more and more difficult with every step, with every gained metre. Roped up with <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_46">Gualberto</span>, I soon fell behind and was visibly the slowest one of the team. I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_47">didn</span>´t care much, and the owner had told me that the key to success on the day was to travel as slowly as possible. Having said that, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_48">Gualberto</span> kept pushing and pushing me to keep going, not really allowing me to take breaks when I felt my lungs might burst if I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_49">didn</span>´t rest. <br /><br /><br />It was gruelling.<br /><br /><br />About an hour into the climb, I fell into a rhythm that was almost hypnotic as I listened only to the sound of my ice axe and crampons crunching into the snow. Every few minutes I looked up, horrified at the sight of the peak which still seemed an impossible distance away from my tiny and insignificant little speck of a body. <br /><br /><br />As the slope became more intense, I realized that I needed to go to the bathroom, and number two as well. I´m not sure I´<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_50">ve</span> ever crapped in such an uncomfortable state in my life (far worse than on the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_51">Salkantay</span>) with my bare arse exposed to the blistering wind, trying to remain stable on an impossibly steep slope, and my guide standing a few feet away, hopefully with headlamp pointed away. <br /><br /><br />However, I was definitely able to climb in an improved fashion afterwards.<br /><br /><br />The silence was comforting in some way. Until it was disrupted by a deep rumble that suddenly grew in volume and my mind cleared enough to comprehend that what I was listening to was an avalanche which seemed to be hurtling towards us. Unfortunately, one <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_52">couldn</span>´t see anything and I had no idea whether we stood in its path. My heart <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_53">leaped</span> into my throat for a few seconds as I saw my guide, frozen, seemingly contemplating whether to make a run to the right or left. As he was about to make such a decision, the rumbling stopped, and the mountain fell quiet again but for the sound of our breaths. ¨¨That was very close¨¨ <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_54">Gualberto</span> said. ¨¨We are <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_55">ok</span>, lets go¨¨. <br /><br /><br />Trying to remember to keep up my energies by eating chocolate and drinking water, we plodded on, each step increasingly more painful and breathless. At one point, I saw that the first real ice climb just lay ahead and I was sure that I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_56">wasn</span>´t going to be able to keep going. I asked <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_57">Gualberto</span> how much further? He looked at his watch and was concerned, telling me that we were running late. For what exactly, I asked? Apparently, the descent becomes hazardous too late in the morning as the snow becomes soft and falling deep as you tread an additional danger. I was up against the clock which <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_58">didn</span>´t help my nerves one bit, nor my aching muscles. ¨¨We have another 2 and 1/2 hours to go to El <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_59">Cumbre</span>¨¨, he said. More devastating words I could not have imagined him saying.<br /><br /><br />What on earth was I doing, and why? Why was I putting myself through this? Why not just give up?<br /><br /><br />Trust me, these thoughts plagued me, and even more when we passed up one of my companions, Matthew, who had turned around due to a bad stomach. I so wanted to go with him, but something deep inside pressed me to keep going.<br /><br /><br />That first ice climb was ridiculous. It was then that I realized doing what we had practiced a few days before was completely <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_60">different</span> when attempted in the middle of the night. I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_61">couldn</span>´t see where I was going, nor how far down the drop was below my feet. I was utterly terrified. To make matters worse, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_62">Gualberto</span> kept yanking on my rope, urging me to climb faster as I gasped and gasped a few feet below him. I kept screeching ¨¨No <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_63">puedo</span>! Me <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_64">Espere</span>. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_65">Momento</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_66">por</span> favor!!!!¨¨ which means, I can´t, wait a moment, please! I can´t count how many times I tried to yell this, out of breath, only to have him continue and tug on the rope.<br /><br /><br />The top of that first technical climb was a welcome relief, until my headlamp lit what lay ahead. This time, only swear words entered my head and I felt like crying. I was numb from cold. I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_67">couldn</span>´t feel my feet. I asked <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_68">Gualberto</span> if I could rest a while, to which he responded (as he did many times)...¨¨in another twenty minutes, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_69">ok</span>?¨..though of course, in Spanish. Thank God I could speak Spanish. I wondered how my friends were managing to communicate with their guides... I could see their headlamps in the far off distance, moving slowly up the side of the mountain. God, they seemed so far away from me! How could they be going so much faster?? Ugh.<br /><br /><br />At one point I had to stop and re-tie my boots. My left foot had no blood running through it and my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_70">neuroma</span> was being aggravated. That was the last thing I needed, because once acute it would not be weight bearing. I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_71">couldn</span>´t afford that to happen today.<br /><br /><br />I told my guide that I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_72">wasn</span>´t sure if I could make it. ¨¨No <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_73">te</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_74">preocupes</span>, Anita. Yo <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_75">te</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_76">ayude</span>. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_77">Vamos</span> a la <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_78">cumbre</span>!¨¨ he said...encouraging me not to worry, I will help you, lets go to the summit!! Wiping tears, I pulled on my down jacket and another hat, put my ice axe to the mountainside. Onward.<br /><br /><br />And onward. Breathing was ridiculously difficult. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_79">Gualberto</span> stopped and told me I had one more hour to go, but that it was going to be much harder climbing than before. Once we started he said, we could not stop. This was my last chance for chocolate and water. I was terrified at this point, my legs ached, my heart pounded, and my head started to throb from the altitude.<br /><br /><br />I absolutely do not know how I managed that last 35 degree slope. Every swing of the ice axe was exhausting, every step felt like an effort coming from a place that <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_80">wasn</span>´t my body. Pulling myself up on to Polish ridge (so named for the Pole who fell from it in 1994 during a solo ascent) I was greeted by the incomprehensible sight of a ridge of snow just a foot and a half in diameter with 3000 foot drops either side...one stretching to La <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_81">Paz</span> and valley, the other to snow capped mountains to the west. It was quite a sight. To add to the magnificence, the sun chose that exact moment to pop above the horizon and shed its golden rays over us. I was overwhelmed. I could see the summit. And I could see my friends already making their way down.<br /><br /><br />It was another twenty minutes, and we had to stand on a treacherously thin sliver of shelf to allow my group to pass us on their descent. Weary, they offered words of cheer, and we climbed on. When I finally hauled myself to the top of the world, I broke down in hysterics.<br /><br /><br />I had made it.<br /><br /><br />As it turns out, crying is much more difficult at this height also. I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_82">couldn</span>´t catch my breath between gulps of tears and I tried to calm myself. The view was beyond words. I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_83">couldn</span>´t believe I´d done it. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_84">Gualberto</span> hugged me in congratulations and we proceeded to snap lots of victory poses as I tried to choke back emotion. Wow.<br /><br /><br />After 15 minutes or so enjoying the sunrise and the glow of victory it was time to head down. Luckily I´m far more adept at descent than I am at ascent and we quickly caught up with the others.<br /><br /><br />It started to make more sense why we start the climb in the middle of the night...its not just for the snow conditions. You simply <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_85">wouldn</span>´t attempt the climb if you saw what lay ahead. Simple as that. Bloody stupid. <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_86">That's</span> all I can say.<br /><br /><br />Deep treacherous crevasses that I had jumped across without a thought in the night suddenly became lightened caverns of death. We saw the results of the avalanche and stared in disbelief at its proximity to the route we had taken. <br /><br /><br />It was so very beautiful and it was on the descent that I could take most of the pictures to remember the ascent by. On and on we trudged, our knees taking a beating with every step. At one point I fell down, my head dizzy from altitude and exhaustion. A little chocolate helped.<br /><br /><br />After a couple hours we were back at the refugio where we were welcomed with some hot tea. I would have welcomed breakfast but alas! we had to wait till we descended to base camp. I was spent, beaten, unable to move. I lay down and quickly became very cold by my wet underclothes. I quickly changed, re-packed all of my equipment, and then headed down with the others, thankfully back in my hiking boots.<br /><br /><br />That 2 hour hike is a blur. My head hurt so much but I thought it must be from hunger and tension as much as from altitude. The sun beat down on us like meat on a grill. I was so so happy to see the lake, to cross the dam, and enter the refugio a full 10 hours since we had set out.<br /><br /><br />After a cold shower, I sat down to a bowl of soup followed by chicken and rice. I felt like hell. But I had made it. This image of eating lunch at the table with my fellow climbers (and with the anticipatory group for the next day) had got me through I think. ¨¨How was it?¨ I was asked by the nervous looking new group. ¨Hardest thing I´ve ever done in my life¨¨ I replied, truthfully.<br /><br /><br />After two hours in the van I was ecstatic to crawl into bed back in my hotel room which I was sharing with Helen. After a 3 hour nap, I felt somewhat jetlagged as I showered and changed to meet the group for a celebratory curry. It was the perfect ending to a unbelievable day.<br /><br /><br />Anyway, hope you enjoyed reading this...I must ge going...we are off to watch Cholitas wrestle in El Alto. I will write Part II very soon.<br /><br /><br />Meanwhile, here are some pictures taken by Ezra a member of my team. I should be able to upload my pics in the next day or two before I fly to Costa Rica and on to Panama. What a relief sea level, sunshine, and the beach will be after this....<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/ecyashar2/HuaynaPotosi6088mAboveSeaLevel#" target="_blank">http://picasaweb.google.com/<wbr>ecyashar2/<wbr>HuaynaPotosi6088mAboveSeaLevel<wbr>#</a><br /><span style="color:#888888;"><br /></span>Anitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15626168590750165296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4491582739399341065.post-74230363386384800282009-05-11T13:30:00.000-07:002010-07-27T14:20:57.216-07:00Bolivia Adventure Part I<div>I write to you from the UNESCO World Heritage site of world-famous silver mining town of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Potosi</span> in South central <span class="il">Bolivia</span>. Much has happened since I last wrote, so I will endeavor to get caught up...and attempt to concentrate on doing so despite the horrendous din of a practice parade outside this coffee shop window.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />I left you last travelling on an overnight bus to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Puno</span> and Lake <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Titicacca</span>..finally saying goodbye to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Cusco</span>...and hello to my first day in <span class="il">Bolivia</span>, as I would be continuing on that next afternoon to Copacabana on the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">lake shore</span> (no, not the famous beach in Brazil).</div> <div> </div> <div><br />Well, the bus was yet another experience not to be forgotten. This time, not for the uncomfortable seats or bad incessant music...no, this time for the heat. I had a heater right by my foot which was jetting out <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">oven worthy</span> temperatures over the 7 hour journey to the extent that I <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">couldn't</span> even place my feet on the floor and I felt like a rotisserie chicken. Multiple pleadings to staff fell on deaf ears. By the time we arrived in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Puno</span>, at 345am I might add (another lie told to me by a bus company...that we would arrive around 6am) I was Medium well done.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />My plan had been to hang out at the bus terminal until around 7 before catching a cab to the harbor and a boat tour to the famous floating reed island of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Uros</span> people. However, I was quite pleased with myself after I managed to <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">finagle</span>, in Spanish, a free room for 4 hours of sleep, before going on a tour that included the boat trip, transfers, and the bus ticket to Copacabana. </div> <div> </div> <div><br />And it was worth it. I needed that shut eye and a refreshing shower before heading out at 830 to meet the boat and my tour guide. </div> <div> </div> <div><br />I had been warned by other visitors that the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Uros</span> Island tour was very tacky and fake. I, in fact, enjoyed it thoroughly. These islands are made entirely from <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">totora</span> reed who´s roots literally float, allowing them to be tied together and then heavily stacked with layers and layers of reeds on top, then the entire "island" is anchored to prevent it from drifting out into the lake, and voila! You´re ready to build your <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">totora</span> reed houses on top and your <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">totora</span> reed boats to get from A to B. </div> <div> </div> <div><br />The lifestyle of these people is fascinating. They seemed very happy to see us and clearly rely heavily on tourism for their income. Their costumes and hair braiding was uniquely colorful and ornate. It was just so strange to be walking around on ground that had give to it. I´<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">ve</span> learned how many things in my life I´<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">ve</span> taken for granted...but living on solid ground was never one of them before this experience.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />Unfortunately, we were told that due to the extreme and damp conditions...most kids raised on the islands had rheumatism and arthritis by the age of 20 and were unable to walk by the time their 40<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">th</span> birthday rolled around. We were told that this generation was probably the last to live in this traditional (no electricity except for a few solar panels that powered TV´s!!) method, the mainland and its modern conveniences being too strong a pull.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />Upon return to the bus station, I was alarmed to be warned that I might have trouble entering <span class="il">Bolivia</span> on my British passport because I used my US passport to enter Peru. I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">couldn</span>´t understand why that would be an issue, and there was nothing I could do at that point on the bus...so I fretted for the next 3 hours until we reached the border.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />On arrival, I spent what Peruvian money I had and waited to get <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">Bolivianos</span> from the border´s ATM. </div> <div> </div> <div><br />There was none.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />And to my dismay, the border officials demanded that I continue to travel on my US passport and pay the $138 for a visa. I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">couldn</span>´t believe that the completely benign decision I made a month ago to use my US passport upon entering Peru was now going to cost me. And worse yet, I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">didn</span>´t have any money. I was screwed.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />To my amazement, a couple from Brazil (who later became fabulous travel companions for the next week or so, Samara and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">Tiago</span>) handed me 2 $100 bills and told me I could pay them back later. I was so grateful.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />After miserably and intentionally stalling for time, the border guard threw a form at me and told me to fill it out. Meanwhile, Samara told me to hurry up as the bus driver was getting <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">antzy</span> and wanted to go without me! This was stressing me out and I started to panic.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />THEN...the official told me that one of the bills was fake..which was an absolute lie. I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">couldn</span>´t believe it...he actually wanted to deny me entry into <span class="il">Bolivia</span>. Luckily, Michael, an American on the bus, lent me the other $38 in a mixture of Soles and dollar bills. Just when I thought I was going to get a visa, the official demanded to see proof of my yellow fever vaccination (which no one else had been asked to produce). Thank God, I had it..albeit about 1 year before expiration (I had had a shot on the USS Explorer doing Semester at Sea when our itinerary was changed to include Brazil). He made me go photocopy it twice along with my passport.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />At this point, Samara and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">Tiago</span> were literally standing in front of the bus to stop him from driving away...and with my luggage!</div> <div> </div> <div><br />If it <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25">weren</span>´t for them, I would have been staying the night sleeping on the pavement outside immigration in nothing but a fleece for <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26">warmth</span> and no money to even buy a bus ticket back to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27">Puno</span> in the morning!! What a nightmare.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />Thankfully, I got my visa (which they then messed up by granting me permission to remain in <span class="il">Bolivia</span> for 5 instead of 1 year!!) and we journeyed together to Copacabana.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />On arrival, it turned out that my hotel had given away my reservation. Could this day get any worse? Well, yes, as a matter of fact, it could.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />There was no ATM in town, and the bank was closed for the next 3 days for a festival. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28">WTF</span>. What was I going to do?!</div> <div> </div> <div><br />Well, thankfully, Michael, myself, Samara, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29">Tiago</span> and two lovely Canadian girls (Arielle and Christine) found ourselves staying at the same hotel and we hung out together for the next two days before heading to La <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30">Paz</span>, and they kindly subsidized my existence during that time. I don´t know what I would have done without them! THANK YOU!</div> <div> </div> <div><br />By the time we had checked in, we were all in need of a stiff drink and some good food. So the six of us headed out and found a lovely restaurant at the hotel that had given away my room (<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31">bastardos</span>) and promptly ordered a red wine and tried to laugh away the stress of the day. We then gorged on an amazing <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32">swiss</span> fondue and other dishes that left us full and exhausted. It was a wonderful meal with wonderful company.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />The next morning was when we discovered that the bank was shut. Thankfully, I was advanced a few <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33">bolivianos</span> by a sympathetic hotel owner on my credit card, just enough to cover my hotel costs and a bus ticket to La <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34">Paz</span>. Michael would loan me the rest.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />After all the traipsing around town to sort out money, we were left no other option than the shorter afternoon tour to the beautiful <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35">Isla</span> Del Sol on Lake <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_36">Titicacca</span>, and after lunch, Michael and I caught the ferry together.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />It was a long, slow crossing, hell, I think I could have rowed faster than this boat travelled. But the view up top was beautiful albeit freezing with a biting wind. </div> <div> </div> <div><br />The island itself was very <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_37">Mediterranean</span> in appearance..it felt like Spain..with lots of rolling green hills, pastureland, and of course the dramatic backdrop of the lake itself. Unfortunately, the boat only gave you 40 minutes on the island before you had to turn around again, so Michael and I opted for a longer tour of the island for a couple of extra bucks (which was added to my tally) which would allow us to take a hike along the south shore to a different boat heading back to the mainland.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />It was well worth it, despite the altitude that had us huffing and clutching our chests as we climbed and climbed.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />Back on the mainland, being gluttons for punishment, we decided to climb <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_38">Cerro</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_39">Cavalrio</span> which is a giant hill view point overlooking the town, and it was supposed to have an amazing vantage point for sunset. It was an exhausting climb but we were rewarded with not only views over the city and lake as the sun set into the water, but also of the revelries going on in the main square as severe partying got underway for the Festival of the cross.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />By the time we arrived at the top, huffing and puffing, it was already getting dark and we realized that we better hurry if we were going to get down safely. We chose the alternative route down, and whilst I was pretty comfortable, Michael was not enjoying the lack of visibility and the steep jagged rocks underfoot. We made it back the city <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_40">OK</span>, just very ready for our evening meal.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />Meeting up with our fellow travellers we enjoyed a wonderful meal in a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_41">fire lit</span> restaurant of the local speciality: <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_42">Trucha</span>, or trout. It was delicious, and I had perked up because the manager had assured me that the bank would re-open in the morning.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />Of course, it <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_43">didn</span>´t. How shocking. Not.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />After dinner we walked back up the hill towards the sound of trumpets blaring and thousands of<br />people cheering and having fun.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />This party was unlike anything I´<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_44">ve</span> ever experienced. First of all, towns from all over the region had come to Copacabana and were represented by their own brass band. Each brass band played their own song which was intricately choreographed (though not often intricately executed due to the fact that most of the musicians were blindingly drunk). Now, imagine all 8 or 10 bands, playing different songs, all very loudly.....AT THE SAME TIME. It was a cacophony of noise, yet somehow, it roused the locals to their feet in a frenzy of dancing.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />What <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_45">surprised</span> me the most about this Bolivian party (as opposed to a street festival back home) is that all generations were represented- young mothers with children, elderly couples all decked out in indigenous attire, as well as the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_46">twenty something</span> crowd. It was fantastic to observe: everyone was having a blast and getting very very wasted on the FREE booze (a peach hot tea with brandy) that was being passed around.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />In addition to the music and dancing, each town let off its own fireworks display in a sort of competition style. What was unique was that the fireworks went off in the middle of the crowd! <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_47">Every time</span> there was a giant Catherine Wheel you had to turn and run for your life or falling pellets of fire would smelt your clothes.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />It was certainly a night to remember.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />The following day, after a final morning in the town running errands, saying our goodbyes to Arielle and Christine, and booking a day trip¨for Michael and I in La <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_48">Paz</span> to mountain bike ¨´The World´s most dangerous road¨, we boarded a bus bound for La <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_49">Paz</span>.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />It was a stunningly beautiful drive, and another unique bus experience, this time because we had to get off the bus at the crossing for Lake <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_50">Titicacca</span> and proceed by boat while the bus was loaded onto a cargo barge. Descending into La <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_51">Paz</span>, with the incredible Cordillera Real mountain range all around was a breathtaking sight. The city was enormous and completely filled the deep valley and dotted the hillsides all the way up to the famous suburb of El Alto. The city is comprised of thousands of red brick houses and a large proportion of the buildings are incomplete because property taxes are not due on unfinished building projects.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />Upon arrival we checked into a hotel that was recommended to me by <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_52">Mirjam</span> (thanks, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_53">Mirjam</span>!)<br />which had giant painted murals on the walls, then headed out for a dinner at a place that was recommended to Samara for its Llama steaks wrapped in bacon. The first stop, however, was an ATM, and I was so overjoyed at being able to withdraw money that I had my group take several pictures of me in happy glee at my renewed self reliance.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />The Llama was VERY VERY good....</div> <div> </div> <div><br />I was truly enjoying the company I was in. In all these weeks of travelling I realized that what I was really yearning for was to connect with one or a group of people. Other than <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_54">Mirjam</span>, I really <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_55">hadn</span>´t at this point. Surrounded by other travellers, I have still felt very lonely and the pain of my break up was still very strong and causing me to weep daily. I have been so sick of feeling sad and depressed, and angry with myself because I should really be enjoying this experience...the travelling has been so wonderful. Unfortunately, I just feel like a part of me has died from disappointment, so I was so very grateful to spend just a few days with my new friends because they allowed me to breathe in a sweet yet short reprieve from my torturous thoughts. </div> <div> </div> <div><br />The next days´ <span class="il">adventure</span> was, I think, the high point of my journey thus far. It was a truly remarkable and memorable experience. The world´s most dangerous road (so named for the number of vehicle fatalities that occur annually and over its history) stretches 75 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_56">kms</span> from La <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_57">Paz</span> to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_58">Coroico</span>, and descends over 3800 metres (<span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_59">that's</span> 12,500 feet!!) with one section of climbing. The scenery was incredible. We began at 4900 metres, cold, barely able to gasp oxygen, surrounded by <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_60">mountain</span> peaks, and SEVEN HOURS OF ALMOST COMPLETE DOWNHILL riding...we were in the hot, humid, sweaty jungle at 1100 metres, breathing easy. The views were beyond belief. As was the knowledge that at almost every bend in the road, a 1200 metre sheer drop was waiting to accept you and your bicycle if you skidded, hit a rock just wrong, or fell off. At some points, the road was barely wide enough to <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_61">accommodate</span> a single vehicle and extra caution had to be taken at blind corners to make sure nothing was coming the other way.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />Our guides (and the brakes on our bikes!) were incredible and gave us lots of guidance along the way. We were warned to enjoy the first 22km of asphalt as an opportunity to get really comfortable with our bikes, and with going much faster than we were comfortable, to get used to going around the tight corners with correct footing and balance, and being able to do so without depressing the brakes. The logic here was, that if we travelled too slowly on the dirt road sections, we were much more likely to crash, and we had to learn to trust the bikes that were designed for the rigors of the downhill rough.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />It was astounding that I made it without completely freaking out. Sometimes, our guide would come along side me and tell me that I needed to go faster and just relax. HOW?? I could die at any moment! He suggested that I sing to myself, which I did.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />It helped immensely.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />I soon got the hang of the speed and whizzing around sharp bends with confidence. On arrival at the jungle, we were directed into an animal sanctuary (the third I´<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_62">ve</span> visited now) where we were given congratulatory ice cold beers (God, they were good) and invited to take showers or swim in their pool. Heading to the pool, I was greeted by a group of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_63">Kapuchin</span> Monkey, one of whom took a liking to me and proceeded to want to play pat-a-cake by clapping my hands together. He was adorable.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />After a filling lunch we piled back into the bus, completely spent, and began the long, winding climb back up to La <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_64">Paz</span>, all the while staring in disbelief at the crazy <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_65">drop offs</span> that we had <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_66">maneuvered</span> on our descent.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />What a day.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />Samara and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_67">Tiago</span> were waiting for us when we got back, and Michael and I excitedly relayed our day´s experiences over an incredible plate of Cuban food in a restaurant we had stumbled across a few blocks from our hotel. They had decided to leave for <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_68">Uyuni</span> and the salt flats in the morning as well...so it turned out that we would probably be on the same bus and train in the morning (I had booked a different tour when I was in Peru). Michael decided to join them, so we all toasted to the next 3 nights which were going to be COLD and test our endurance of basic basic basic accommodation that was without heat, water, or electricity in subzero temperatures. </div> <div> </div> <div><br />I hoped I would see my 3 friends throughout my trip...which I did!</div> <div> </div> <div><br />I´ll leave it there for now..and write again (probably later today) and fill you in on my trip to the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_69">Salar</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_70">de</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_71">Uyuni</span> and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_72">Potosi</span>.</div>Anitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15626168590750165296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4491582739399341065.post-15669010498021346462009-05-04T13:26:00.000-07:002010-07-27T14:22:38.507-07:00Peru Adventure Part VII write this to you from the Lake Titicaca Bolivian town of Copacabana. I<br />am leaving in a few hours for La <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Paz</span>. Bolivia has been a bit of a<br />NIGHTMARE, I was forced to pay $135 to enter the country as they refused to<br />accept my British passport, there are NO <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">ATMs</span> in the town, and the bank is<br />CLOSED for a festival. If it were not for the kindness and generosity of a<br />couple of fellow travellers, I would be sleeping on the streets and unable<br />to eat. More about THAT later...<br /><br /><br />I left off with me arriving in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Ollantaytambo</span> in the Sacred Valley after<br />completing the trek and having spent the day in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Machu</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Picchu</span>. I slept 14<br />hours that night...i really needed it.<br /><br /><br />In the morning, feeling like a new person, I packed up my bags and headed<br />downstairs to have some breakfast. I met a group of Americans from LA who<br />invited me to eat with them. They were so nice and sympathised greatly with<br />my story about getting ripped off, in fact, one of them was Peruvian and<br />recommended that I complain officially by going to the local consumer<br />affairs office in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Cusco</span>. They even paid for my breakfast.<br /><br /><br />I headed out to check out the Inca ruins in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Ollantaytambo</span> and the rest of<br />the town. I was a little "ruined out" but these were completely different,<br />and again, in an outstandingly beautiful natural location. The entire time<br />I was walking around (and CLIMBING..the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">incas</span> loved their stairs and steep<br />locations) I kept hearing this sheep bleating. It was incessant, very loud,<br />and it sounded like there were several animals crying out in excruciating<br />pain. I asked a guide whether that was a herd of sheep or just one sheep,<br />and she said she believed it was just one. This may not seem significant,<br />but I tell you, the bleating went on for 2 hours without stopping. As I was<br />leaving the ruins by the river...I saw the sheep..tied up next to the river<br />in a little patch of grass. I approached and the sheep literally ran<br />towards me and head butted my knees. He stopped bleating and looked at me<br />with amused anticipation. I sat down on a tree stump and he started happily<br />eating the grass, looking up at me every few seconds and ensuring that<br />I was still there.<br /><br /><br />The sheep had just been lonely.<br /><br /><br />I sat there and sang him a song. I know I sound completely mad, but I felt<br />an affinity with this sheep. I´<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">ve</span> been so lonely on this trip sometimes that<br />I´<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">ve</span> felt like bleating for 2 hours. I understood, and it was really hard<br />to leave him because he immediately started bleating again.<br /><br /><br />That afternoon I wandered around the town...this was the only place in <span class="il">Peru</span><br />where people are still living in original <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">inca</span> buildings. It was so<br />beautiful, the original <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">inca</span> irrigation channels flowing through the<br />ridiculously narrow streets, where people lived in homes with the skulls of<br />their grandparents sitting proudly above the fireplace (I know, weird huh?)<br /><br /><br />Then began the transportation <span class="il">adventure</span>...I took a ¨<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">collectivo</span>¨, or<br />van first to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Orumba</span>, and then hopped on a bus bound for <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Pisac</span>. I met<br />a lovely local indigenous lady selling her wares on the first bus.<br />Her name was Daisy. Seriously. She was only sixteen, but already<br />carrying her heavy load in her brightly colored back shawl.<br /><br /><br />On arriving in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Pisac</span>, I bartered hard for a cab ride to see the ruins.<br /> The cab driver was a bit of a maniac driver, but we arrived safely<br />and he said that he would accompany me as I toured the site. At first<br />I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">didn</span>´t think anything of this, it all seemed normal. Then when it<br />dawned on me that there were no tourist left (it was 4pm), I started<br />to feel a little uncomfortable having him with me. That was worsened<br />by what I saw next. A man of about 55 sitting next to the sacred<br />temple, staring at me while he patted a machete into the palm of his<br />hand. The hairs on the back of my neck stood upright and I began to<br />ask myself how I had been so stupid to get myself into this precarious<br />situation. I promptly set off up the hill, hoping that they <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">wouldn</span>´t<br />follow me.<br /><br /><br />It began to thunder and rain.<br /><br /><br />As I tried to decide what on earth I was going to do about getting<br />back to the city...I bumped into a lovely Australian guy named Nick.<br />I told him about the guy with the Machete and he said that it would be<br />perfectly fine for me to accompany him back down. I was relieved.<br /><br /><br />It was lovely chatting to Nick who had recently left his job working<br />for a hedge fund in London to work for a non profit micro finance<br />company in New York City. I listened intently as he described what he<br />did, and I found myself fascinated. A job in finance where you can<br />make a difference in the world by encouraging business and<br />entrepreneurship to women in East Africa and Cambodia. He explained<br />that I should consider the field since I had a background in finance,<br />could speak multiple languages, and was not harried by the thought of<br />travel to extreme impoverished locales in the world. I was very<br />intrigued, as he offered to email me job opportunities that he knew<br />about.<br /><br /><br />A potentially nightmarish afternoon had been turned around into a<br />potential career opportunity. How exciting.<br /><br /><br />And then 2 rainbows appeared. Maybe a sign from the universe. We shall see.<br /><br /><br />Nick then offered to give me a ride back to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">Cusco</span> with himself and his<br />parents in their beautiful privately rented van (it had leather<br />seats). I gratefully accepted.<br /><br /><br />I chatted happily with his folks who were from Melbourne. They shared<br />personal anecdotes from the recent <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">bushfires</span> that killed so many<br />people in Victoria. It was shocking to listen to.<br /><br /><br />After kindly dropping me off at my hotel, I showered and hurried out<br />to meet my trek guide, Nico, for dinner. We had a lovely meal, and<br />then he introduced me to a friend of his who organized treks to the<br />Amazon jungle in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">Puerto</span> Maldonado. I happily took the information and<br />headed off to bed.<br /><br /><br />The next two days I recovered and relaxed in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">Cusco</span>. I met up with<br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">Mirjam</span> again and went to see my final <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">inca</span> ruin at <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">Qoricancha</span>, which<br />was actually very fascinating since it was an <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25">incan</span> ruin with a<br />Catholic monastery, complete with modern day monks, built on top. I<br />booked my flights and trip to the jungle, did some last minute<br />shopping, rested, and saw the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26">chiropractor</span> again to sort out my back.<br />It was just what I needed...but I was eager to leave <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27">Cusco</span> again that<br />Monday morning.<br /><br /><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28">Mirjam</span> decided not to join me in the Amazon, which I was sad about,<br />because I was booked to travel only with 2 couples, which I had<br />reservations about.... As it turned out the couples, from France and<br />South Africa respectively, were delightful and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29">didn</span>´t make me feel<br />like a fifth wheel at all. My flight was smooth and I revelled in the<br />blast of steaming hot air that attacked my face as I stepped off the<br />aircraft and onto the tarmac. We met up with our guide, Alberto, and<br />set off in a van to meet our boat on the mighty <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30">Madre</span> De <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31">Dios</span> River<br />for our hour long boat transfer to our <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32">Tambo</span> Jungle Lodge.<br /><br /><br />I immediately was loving the scenery and the environment. The river<br />was a dark muddy brown, and navigating its waters provided a delicious<br />breeze which cooled our sweaty brows. We were very quickly out of the<br />city and I noted that the vegetation was far denser than any other<br />jungle type place I´d visited before...this was the real thing!<br /><br /><br />I loved our lodge. It was so...I don´t know....Hollywood B movie from<br />the 1950´s...netted dining room, cute little thatched bungalows with<br />giant screens and mosquito nets to keep out the critters, and the<br />obligatory five macaw team of pets.<br /><br /><br />What I loved about my three days at this lodge was that it was the<br />perfect combination of activity and sloth. We would head out very<br />early in the morning, often before sunrise and the heat of the day,<br />head upriver and start our hiking explorations before returning for<br />lunch, a cold shower (which was fantastically welcome for a change!)<br />and a nap in the shade of your mosquito net or outdoor shaded hammock.<br /> Then there would be another activity and meal. It was all very well<br />organized.<br /><br /><br />The first evening we visited Monkey Island and saw <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33">Kapuchin</span> and howler<br />monkeys. On the way home in the dark, our guide used a huge spotlight<br />to hunt for the glow of red eyes of the animals near the riverbank.<br />We spotted a pygmy marmoset and a dozen or so <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34">caimans</span> lurking near the<br />surface. I was so blissfully happy to just sit and relax in the boat,<br />just absorbing the absolutely stunning sunset on the river, and just<br />drink in the ambiance of it all. I felt as if I were in a movie.<br /><br /><br />Our second day was spent in a nature reserve that took care of injured<br />and abandoned animals, as well as providing a hair raising canopy walk<br />that raised you 45 metres into the tree canopy above to look for<br />birds. I did enjoy it thoroughly, though it was upsetting to see<br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35">Preciosa</span> the jaguar, who was kept in captivity because the centre<br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_36">didn</span>´t have the resources to transport her deep enough into the jungle<br />that they could be assured that she <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_37">wouldn</span>´t continue to seek food<br />from human sources such as farms, since this is what she had grown<br />accustomed to.<br /><br /><br />I also learned that pink toe tarantulas make their home inside<br />pineapple plants. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_38">Hmmm</span>. They don´t tell you that at Del Monte.<br /><br /><br />The evenings at the lodge were spent in very relaxed games of chess,<br />glasses of beer, and conversation with both our group and the group<br />that had arrived the day before us. It was just lovely.<br /><br /><br />Our second day we completed a 14km return hike to Lake Sandoval where<br />we canoed through beautiful inlets lined with more wildlife such as<br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_39">caimans</span>, snakes, lots of birds (can´t remember all the names),<br />spiders, and squirrel monkeys. I enjoyed it, but by the end of the<br />hike, which was done entirely in gumboots because of the knee high mud<br />in places, I was spent and felt at one with my clothes as they were as<br />dirty and sweat ridden as me myself. Ugh. Cold shower was fabulous,<br />once again.<br /><br /><br />That night was the highlight of my stay. We headed out after dinner,<br />in the dark, with headlamps to do a night walk in the jungle environs<br />of the lodge. It was terrifying because Alfredo would make us turn<br />off our lights and just listen to the sounds of the jungle. Not<br />knowing what the calls, screeches, and various rustling noises were<br />around you added to the suspense as you <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_40">weren</span>´t sure if something was<br />going to just jump out of the jungle and grab you. My imagination run<br />rampant.<br /><br /><br />At one point, Alfredo hushed us as we heard the snorts, sounds, and<br />running of what seemed like a group of large mammals. He said they<br />were wild pigs or <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_41">pecarys</span>...and as he listened intently, he informed<br />us that we were standing very close to a group of about 25 of them.<br />We shone our lights out into the jungle and were met with a bunch of<br />evil glowing red eyes. Alberto said that they could be dangerous if<br />provoked, and after bearing it for a few minutes, instructed us to<br />back up slowly and head back.<br /><br /><br />That was exciting.<br /><br /><br />On the way home we found jaguar tracks...Alberto said that it was more<br />than likely hunting the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_42">pecaries</span>.<br /><br /><br />Good stuff!<br /><br /><br />The final morning was rather disappointing as we awoke at 4am to<br />journey 1 1'2 hours upriver to view a salt lick that attracted<br />hundreds of parakeets. Whilst seeing the sunrise on the river made<br />the trip worthwhile, I was rather disappointed by the far away view of<br />the parakeets and wondered why I had awoken at such an ungodly hour<br />just for this.<br /><br /><br />After it was time to head back to our lodge to pack and head to the<br />airport and the cold brisk air of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_43">Cusco</span>.<br /><br /><br />This was to be my last afternoon in the former <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_44">inca</span> capital, and I did<br />some shopping and had a final celebratory meal with <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_45">Mirjam</span> before<br />hopping in a cab bound for the bus station to take a night bus to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_46">Puno</span><br />and Lake <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_47">Titicacca</span>.<br /><br /><br />I would be spending just the morning visiting the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_48">Ouros</span> Islands,<br />before catching a bus headed to the Bolivian lakeside town of<br />Copacabana.<br /><br /><br />And that is where I will leave it for now...(I am actually now in La<br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_49">Paz</span> and have to go pack for my four day trip to the wonder of the<br />world that is the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_50">Salar</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_51">de</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_52">Uyuni</span> in the morning. I hope to write<br />again soon!Anitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15626168590750165296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4491582739399341065.post-1796629880303128772009-04-26T13:18:00.000-07:002010-07-27T14:22:38.508-07:00Peru Adventure Part V<div>I know its only been a day...but I´m heading off to the Amazon jungle tomorrow for four days so I need to take this opportunity to journal my time since I arrived in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Cusco</span> last Friday. Because a LOT happened to me. Some tragic, but all funny when told in hindsight.</div> <div> </div> <div><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Mirjam</span> and I spent the first two days in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Cusco</span> acclimatizing, and trying not to do too much. The first morning, after recovering from the Death by Pan Flute Express, we went out for brunch at a restaurant called Jack´s that was recommended to me by the people I met in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Huacachina</span>. It did not disappoint. I had the best breakfast with fresh baked bread, eggs, tomato, potatoes, avocado, fresh orange juice and a piping hot latte. I needed a little bit of home.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />We then headed up the hill to check out the beautiful little neighborhood of San <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Blas</span> which was just charming with lots of very steep narrow streets that twisted and turned endlessly. Continuing up we decided to visit the original <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Incan</span> fortress of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Saskaywaman</span>...which tourists affectionately refer to as "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Sexywoman</span>". From there we could admire the incredible stone work of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">incas</span>...some of the rocks used to construct the fortification weighed up to 3 tonnes, and yet were carved and put together to stand for over 600 years without the use of mortar or clay. And none of the stones were rectangular, they were all polygon shapes fitted together like a giant jigsaw. From the top of the hill we could appreciate a bird´s eye view of the entire city of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Cusco</span>, the oldest inhabited city in South America. It was much larger than I had expected and surrounded with <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">beautifully</span> lush green hills and valley as far as the eye could see...with just a few snow capped peaks visible in the very distance.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />Coming back to the city ...I hopped in a cab to have a chiropractic appointment and sort out my bus ravaged body. Getting back I attended the first orientation for my five day trek..and it was a complete waste of time. The agency <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">couldn</span>´t answer my questions, I was the only one from my group in attendance...oh well! This is the Peruvian way, I´m beginning to appreciate.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />However, it was my birthday and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Mirjam</span> and I had invited a bunch of travellers to come out and celebrate with me. In all, 11 people showed up and the drinks started to flow. We were even joined by a guy from Miami, originally from Israel, who´s birthday it was too! It was a great night out which ended in a karaoke bar (of course!!) with lots of singing and dancing... I even managed to get a very nice good night kiss from my fellow birthday boy (unfortunately he was flying home the next day). </div> <div> </div> <div><br />The next day, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Mirjam</span> and I awoke with a serious hangover. I stayed in bed most of the day and only ventured out to buy some last minute needed items of gear for my trek like rain pants, and a poncho. Then we went out for a lovely meal and I tried to get to bed at a reasonable hour because I was being picked up at 4:15am the next day!</div> <div> </div> <div><br />Of course, I hardly slept. And the pickup was an HOUR late. Which pissed me off. However, I got in the van and tried to sleep, to no avail, all the way the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">trail head</span> at <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Mollepata</span>. Beginning to converse with my fellow hikers, I was shocked to discover that I had paid FOUR TIMES what each of the other 11 trekkers had for this trip. This put me in a horrendously bad mood as I felt completely cheated, robbed and lied to. It <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">wasn</span>´t so much the money...but that I had been told that the 19 April was SOLD OUT and that the company was making an exception adding me at the last minute. Well, everyone had booked the trip in the last three days. My poor impression of tourism operators in this country continues to be formed.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />Our first day of hiking we covered 19 kilometres and climbed 1000 metres to our first camp at <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">Soraypampa</span>. The scenery and weather changed drastically...we started in very humid, mosquito infested, semi-jungle, and then climbed into an alpine valley with lush green meadows and snow capped peaks in the not too distant horizon. By the late afternoon we had piled on our jackets, pants, gloves, and hats...Our porters (the cooks) and the pack mules were way ahead of us and had laid out a lovely spread of hot tea and popcorn (okay!!) for our arrival. It was so lovely and cozy, I could definitely get used to someone carrying my shit, and cooking for me when I backpack. So spoiled were we. To add to the atmosphere of it all, there was even a little ginger kitten who curled up in a ball on my lap while we ate and drank. </div> <div> </div> <div><br />Dinner was not disappointing either...we had cream of asparagus soup, strips of sirloin steak with rice and vegetables, followed by jello for dessert. Yum! After several rounds of cards with my new group of trekkers, I was ready to crawl into my -15 sleeping bag for a good night´s sleep. Thankfully, it was.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />Day 2 was going to be the toughest, with over 11 hours of hiking and climbing over the pass at 4950 metres- 15250 feet. I felt ready for it, physically, but was still nervous about the altitude. We were extremely blessed with fantastic weather, and the clouds soon dissipated to reveal glorious 6000 metre peaks all around us. I found the trekking poles very helpful as we began the gruelling switchbacks, up, up , up to our goal. I was the fifth to make it to the top and felt really good, just a little breathless. The biting wind also took a hold once you had stopped for a few minutes. After taking in the vistas of the glaciers overhead, and hearing them crack and move, it was time to move on to our descent back into the sub alpine green meadows and then further down into the jungle.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />After nearly 7 hours of walking we stopped for lunch and ate ravenously. I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">couldn</span>´t fathom that we still had 3 hours to go. That section of the trail was the toughest, and your aching muscles just willed the campsite to come into view as we went around each and every bend. I was starting to feel very weak, my stomach was hurting badly, but it <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">wasn</span>´t until I arrived into camp that I began to suspect that there was something very wrong with me.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />I sat down, exhausted, on arrival. Then I thought to myself: ¨"oh, I´ll just lie down for a few minutes before I get into my tent and change". <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">That's</span> when everything went downhill. In a matter of minutes, I began to feel nauseous. Then the world started spinning around me, and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">every time</span> I tried to sit up I was sure I was going to be sick. I was feeling really bad and worsening. Then I started to shiver, and I realized that I was lying on the ground in my sweat soaked clothes, and that I needed to get out of them quickly. I just <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">couldn</span>´t move and I began to panic. I willed someone to help me, but no-one seemed to notice me lying on the ground. Eventually, my tent mate asked if I was <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">ok</span>...I explained, though terribly embarrassed, that I was going to need help getting in the tent. With her´s and Nico´s help, I got in the tent, and somehow managed to get into dry clothes and curl into my sleeping bag. </div> <div> </div> <div><br />No sooner had I got in my bag than I needed to get out again..and crawling just steps from my tent, I threw up. That was when things got bad, and things started exiting me from..um..both ends, shall we say? A fever began to spike and I was unable to keep water down.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />What had I eaten or drank different from anyone else? I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">couldn</span>´t think of anything. My guide, Nico, was convinced I had altitude sickness. All I knew is that things were bad and I wished to be anywhere but in the middle of nowhere.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />Concerned with dehydration, my guide gave me hydration tablets and lots of water, which I promptly threw up. Nothing was staying down. It was so awful. He fetched me some Gatorade from another campsite, and I managed to keep sipping that throughout the night, thank God.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />It was by far one of the longest nights of my life. I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25">didn</span>´t sleep at all, but just lay there writhing in pain and nausea for over 12 hours. In the middle of the night, I knew I had to go to the bathroom, but I had no idea where it was, or how on earth I was going to muster to the strength to walk there. I woke my tent mate who explained that it was about 200 m east of the tent, and that I should just head to the river.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />There I was, in pitch black darkness, stumbling horrendously with my headlight trying to stay upright to get to the latrine. I stepped in donkey shit. In sandals. I tried to avoid chickens and nearly walked into a mule. Finally finding the outhouse, my heart sank as I saw that these toilets were no more than holes in the ground.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />Now, as any of you who´<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26">ve</span> had the pleasure of using such facilities will know...a good ¨"aim" is difficult at the best of times...but when you are delirious and have <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27">diarrhea</span>....well, lets just say, that I missed....and creating such a disgusting mess that I threw up again. </div> <div> </div> <div><br />I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28">couldn</span>´t go back to the tent like this...so I tried to find the water bucket that is used to flush the toilet...it was empty. So I hobbled down to the river and tried to rinse my feet and sandals, but the current was so strong I nearly got swept away. </div> <div> </div> <div><br />Its all really funny to recall now, in retrospect, but I can assure you that at the time, it was severely lacking in humor.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />Back in the tent, I was so uncomfortable and sick, that the only relief I could find was in scratching all the mosquito bites on my legs. Well, that soon got out of hand and I think I scratched myself till I bled.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />In the morning, my guide came over and told me that I had to get up and walk. I just wanted to crawl up in the corner and die. God. How was I going to walk? </div> <div> </div> <div><br />I can´t even begin to describe how hard it was to get ready and start walking when I felt like collapsing at every step. I was so dizzy and nauseous, it was a battle of the mind just to keep going. At one point, unable to go any further, I sat on a rock on the trail and just started to cry. It was especially difficult not having anyone else that I knew there to offer even so much as moral support. Some hiker came over and pointed out that I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29">didn</span>´t look so great. "What an astute observation," I thought to myself sarcastically...but when he explained that he was a doctor...it was like music to my ears.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />Turned out, he thought I had caught a virus, and promptly gave me some drugs which he explained might help with the nausea and dizziness. He said that if I still <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30">wasn</span>´t keeping liquids down within 6 hours that I should stop and have an IV administered.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />Yeah, that´s likely in the middle of the jungle.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />Thankfully, the drugs helped a little and I was able to keep going and keep some liquids down. After about an hour, a local came by on horseback, and after some negotiating, I managed to bargain my way onto his horse in his stead. It was a relief not to be walking, but the horse trotting and crossing rivers and large rocks jolted my insides so bad that I threw up a couple more times.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />After what felt like eternity, we reached our lunch stop for the day, I slid off the horse and crawled over to a nearby tree and lay down in the grassy shade, so incredibly grateful to not be moving anymore.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31">didn</span>´t eat much those next 2 days, but I was beginning to feel better by that evening...even well enough to go to the Hot <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32">Springs</span> in Santa Maria with the rest of the group. It was an incredible setting, and it was so nice to get a sense of cleanliness after 3 days of roughing it.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />Thankfully, the next day was pretty easy, without much climbing...just a long trek along the River <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33">Urumbata</span> towards the train tracks leading to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34">Aguas</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35">Caliente</span>...the town at the foot of the mountains of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_36">Machu</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_37">Picchu</span>. It was now lush green jungle and we saw lots of beautiful birds, cascading waterfalls, and got eaten alive by swarms of mosquitoes.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />The night before our dawn climb to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_38">Machu</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_39">Picchu</span> I was again, unable to sleep a wink. The entire next day I ran entirely on adrenaline and the excitement of seeing a sight I´d been dreaming about for nearly 20 years.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />We set out at 3:30 in the morning with headlamps to tackle the very steep climb up the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_40">incan</span> stairs to the entrance gates of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_41">Machu</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_42">Picchu</span>. It was a ridiculously steep climb, but it felt worth it when we claimed one of the first places in line to be allowed in. Walking into the ruins just as dawn was breaking is a spectacle I will not soon forget. Nothing can prepare you for that first glimpse of this wonder of the world, and as I gazed on this lost city of the Incas, surrounded by the mist <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_43">enveloped</span> green peaks, I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_44">couldn</span>´t help but be overcome with emotion and tears flooded my eyes. It was so unreal...to finally be here.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />We all raced through the ruins to get " in line " for permits to climb the famed <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_45">Wana</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_46">Picchu</span> mountain, since only the first 400 hikers are permitted to get to its summit on a daily basis. Nearly 5000 tourists visit <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_47">Machu</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_48">Picchu</span> on any given day.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />After a two hour tour led by our guide Nico on the history and story of the city, it was time to head up the peak. I was so tired that I nearly fell asleep standing during the tour, so I´m not sure how I managed to summit the 700 metre climb. It was ridiculously steep and narrow, and having to make room for some people descending as we climbed was particularly precarious. I was a puddle. My legs shook with the effort. Just when I thought we´d reached the summit...we had to CRAWL through a very narrow tunnel like cave in order to emerge on top on the other side. It was barely large enough to push my body through.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />The view made it all worthwhile...the ruins below us formed the shape of the condor and looked like a small spec all those metres below us. The bridge we had crossed the river on the day before was but a brown spec on the valley floor below us. </div> <div> </div> <div><br />Most unfortunately, despite being the one person who had paid through the nose for this trip, I also seemed to be the one person singled out to return to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_49">Ollantaytambo</span> and on to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_50">Cusco</span> on the 2pm train- everyone else on the trip was reserved on the 6pm train. I was very upset at having to leave the site early as I wanted to spend the day there. Having said that, by the time I descended from <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_51">Wana</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_52">Picchu</span>, and climbed up to the Guard House to take some of those iconic photographs...I had been walking for nearly 10 hours and I was completely wrecked. I would never have suspected that of our gruelling 5 day trek, the day in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_53">Machu</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_54">Picchu</span> was going to test me physically the most.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />I was so dead that I decided to take the bus back down to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_55">Aguas</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_56">Caliente</span>. Sadly, I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_57">didn</span>´t even get to say goodbye to the rest of my group, only Nico, who had tried unsuccessfully (bless him) to change my train ticket to the later departure. </div> <div> </div> <div><br />By the time the train pulled into <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_58">Ollantaytambo</span> 3 hours later, I was convinced that I was going to spend the night here and get some rest, and take advantage of the location to see the Sacred Valley before heading back to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_59">Cusco</span> the next evening.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />Turned out to be a good decision. Actually relieved to be all alone for a change, I ate a quick dinner and then promptly fell asleep around 7pm...only to awake 14 hours later at 9am the following morning. I had needed it.</div>Anitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15626168590750165296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4491582739399341065.post-49376410008775184092009-04-25T12:46:00.000-07:002010-07-27T14:22:38.509-07:00Peru Adventure Part IV<div>It has been too long since I last wrote, and if I don´t put pen to paper soon, figuratively speaking of course, I will forget what I have done this past week or so. I have just returned from a six day trek through the Peruvian Andes, the "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Salkantay</span>", ending in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Machu</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Picchu</span> and the Sacred Valley...but before I get ahead of myself- I will continue my travel account from where I last left you...standing alone in the middle of the night outside my hostel in Arequipa waiting for someone to let me in.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />Here is the latest link to pictures from my last trek-</div> <div> </div> <div><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/anitalgray/CuzcoSalkantayTrekMachuPicchuAndTheSacredValley2009" target="_blank">http://picasaweb.google.com/<wbr><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">anitalgray</span>/<wbr><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">CuzcoSalkantayTrekMachuPicchuA</span><wbr><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">ndTheSacredValley</span>2009</a>#</div> <div> </div> <div><br />Well thankfully, someone eventually listened to my persistent banging on the door and cries for help. "No, we are not open all night,¨I was told by a solemn faced young man who finally came to my rescue. ¨"Well, then <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">don't</span> advertise that you are on your website!" I madly responded as I set my bags down in my room which would be my home for the short four hours I had before my tour leader to the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Colca</span> Canyon was picking me up.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Colca</span> Canyon is advertised as the deepest canyon in the world (which technically <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">isn</span>´t true..the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Cotahuasi</span> Canyon a few hundred kilometres from there is 150 metres deeper), over twice as deep as the Grand Canyon. I was excited to hike down to the bottom of it and spend a couple of days exploring its famous villages that house people who live at the bottom, isolated from the world around them, separated from the conveniences of public transport and a grocery store by a five hour climb straight up!</div> <div> </div> <div><br />It was about a four hour drive to the canyon in our minivan...and I tried to sleep, to no avail. The altitude immediately started affecting me, especially since I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">hadn</span>´t spent any time in Arequipa, and we were driving over a 4900 Metre pass. I felt lightheaded, dizzy, and generally quite out of it. We first stopped at the "Stone Forest" for some pictures, and though it was only a five minute walk, I was completely winded by the time we got back to the van.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />My travelling party consisted of a lovely Dutch girl by the name of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Mirjam</span> (who I´<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">ve</span> been travelling with on and off since), as well as a couple from France, a couple from England, a guy from Montreal, Francois, and myself. It was a lovely eclectic group, but I struggled yet again with the fact that the French language is stored in the exact same space in my brain as the Spanish language, and switching one to the another is next to impossible! </div> <div> </div> <div><br />After a fabulous buffet lunch we continued on to the "Condor" viewing area and took a few kilometre walk to reach it. Unfortunately it had begun to rain and the temperature had plummeted to the point where I was extremely grateful I had bought that winter jacket in Nazca. We <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">didn</span>´t really spot any condors and by the time we made it to our hotel on the canyon rim for the first night in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Cabanaconde</span>, we were all shivering and chilled to the bone. Some hot coca tea helped warm us up and (though I never really felt it) alleviate the symptoms of altitude. </div> <div> </div> <div><br />The town itself felt extremely authentically rural Peruvian. There were only dirt streets, and women walked carrying their traditional parcels of goods wrapped around their shoulders, muddy children ran playing in the streets, chased of course by the obligatory plethora of homeless street dogs. </div> <div> </div> <div><br />I slept under six blankets that night, and though I felt smothered, managed to keep somewhat warm (no heating in the hotel).</div> <div> </div> <div><br />The next morning we started bright and early on our long trek down, down, down, into the canyon. We were blessed with warm sunny skies this morning much to our relief. The views were stunning (as <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">you've</span> probably already seen in the pictures I´<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">ve</span> sent) and the shades of grey rock turned to yellow and orange as we got closer and closer to the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">Colca</span> River. Upon arrival at the "Oasis" where we would be sleeping, I was <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">surprised</span> to find an almost "resort like" set of swimming pools, palm trees, lounge chairs, and green grass...where our guide was busy setting up our tents. We all relaxed and swam in the pool while our lunch was prepared.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />The food on this trip was amazing...the freshest of soups..asparagus, corn or vegetable, lots of stuffed avocado, chicken with rice and salsa...all home prepared. Wonderful. </div> <div> </div> <div><br />After lunch, a few of us set off for our excursion to the next village up the canyon, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">Mallata</span>, which was another 2 1-2 hour hike away. First we descended to the bridge across the river where we hungrily snapped pics of the churning frothy rapids before huffing it up the switchbacks over to the next "valley" within the valley itself. We had Alicia, an indigenous girl from <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">Cabanaconde</span>, accompany us on this trip and she showed us many of the plants along the way and the medicinal uses they had. For instance, we came across the Aloe Vera Plant, and placing its juice directly on the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">sun burnt</span> arms of one of my fellow hikers, within five minutes there were two healthy brownish patches of skin in the middle of the red...amazing. Alicia was also a force of nature, hiking with barely any water, without let up straight up the hill wearing sandals. When it got really dark on the way back, she <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">didn't</span> even need a flashlight...it was as if she knew the location of each and every stone as she walked. </div> <div> </div> <div><br />The town of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">Malata</span> was fascinating...so small and full of mud and stone huts, a little town square where we engaged a group of local kids in an impromptu game of soccer. I tried imagining what life would be like here, so far from the world far above, and found it very difficult. As I had mentioned before, it was dark by the time we made it back to the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25">Oasis</span>, but hiking with headlamps and seeing the glow of the stars overhead just added to the atmosphere and <span class="il">adventure</span> of it all.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />After another fabulous meal we all exhausted headed off to our tents. I had a quick swim in the pool under the night sky first, and climbed into my sleeping bag feeling somewhat <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26">worrisome</span> alert as opposed to sleepy.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27">didn</span>´t sleep a wink that night. I tossed and turned and felt each hour drag by till the dreaded time of 4am approached and I knew we had to wake and tackle the monster climb out of the canyon before the heat of the day hit home. I later realized that insomnia is one of the popular symptoms of altitude adjustment. Ugh. To make matters worse, my period had started. <br /><br />FANTASTIC!</div> <div> </div> <div><br />That climb kicked my ass. I was beginning to wish I had decided to book a mule the night before for the 1400 metre climb, which took over 4 hours. It was horrendous. I don´t know if Ive ever been so tired in my life. But I made it through a sheer force of will.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />Back in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28">Cabanaconde</span>, we greedily packed away a second breakfast before collapsing in the van and making our way to the hot springs! That was a welcome refreshment and offered some relief to my aching limbs. </div> <div> </div> <div><br />I tried sleeping on our drive back to Arequipa but was unable to because of the windiness of the road we had to drive. However, after bidding our adieus, I grabbed my bags from the stupid hotel where I´d spent the first night and checked into my hostel which was just a few blocks from where <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29">Mirjam</span> and Francois was staying. Knowing that if I <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30">didn't</span> go out for dinner right away I would simply pass out....I set out to find my new friends and grab some drinks and food with them.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />We found the cutest little pizzeria and ate the melted cheese and welcome "taste of home" washing it down with a glass of red wine. It was some of the best pizza Ive ever tasted. At about 9pm, I´d been awake for over 48 hours and I crawled into my bed bunk and passed out.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />The next two days were spent in a blissfully relaxed fashion, and I needed it after the crazy travelling of the past week. The first day I had breakfast with <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31">Mirjam</span> and some of her friends she´d met in Bolivia in the main square overlooking the cathedral....they were a couple from Canada-UK and were travelling for TWO YEARS!! Wow. They had quite some stories to share...and encouraged me to move to Vancouver! <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32">Hmmmm</span>..Food for thought. I then wandered the streets with <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33">Mirjam</span>, dropped off some laundry, bought our night bus tickets to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34">Cusco</span> for the following evening, and then we both decided wed treat ourselves to massages!</div> <div> </div> <div><br />Well, we got a little more than we bargained for. A cab driver dropped us off at a massage place....and the strange thing was that all the masseuses were blind. Weird, eh? Well, I thought....Blind people might make excellent masseuses since they have such a stronger sense of touch. Wrong. My female masseuse, who refused to listen to even the most BASIC Spanish commands like, "NOT SO HARD", or "THAT HURTS", kept insisting on punching me with her fists with all her might, and then trying to loop her arms around my neck and legs, contorting me to try and crack my spine. NO WAY. I put a stop to that. </div> <div> </div> <div><br />Turned out I fared better than <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35">Mirjam</span>, who´s male masseuse also massaged her breasts, which made her extremely uncomfortable. Feeling very weirded out, we ordered some chicken mole burritos and tried to laugh over the whole strange event.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />That afternoon, I watched the sun set on my hostel terrace while swinging in a hammock. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_36">Ahhhhhh</span>. Lovely. Then I treated myself to a movie! My hostel had a little cinema room with tons of pirated DVDs and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_37">Mirjam</span> and I settled in with some chips and hot tea to watch "The Last King of Scotland"...which was a riveting albeit disturbing film which I enjoyed thoroughly. It was the perfect antidote to the last 3 days of hiking.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />On my last day in the beautiful, white, second largest city in <span class="il">Peru</span>...I decided to go be a tourist and spent the morning and most of the afternoon wandering around the incredible Catalina Monastery...a veritable city within a city. Nuns still live a cloistered life here, but in the times of the first Spanish settlement, they had quite the life complete with servants, flowing wine, and lots of parties! The buildings were absolutely gorgeous, all brightly painted in hues of blue and orange set against the white volcanic rock of the buildings themselves. If I had to be a nun, I would do it here...I thought to myself. </div> <div> </div> <div><br />After more wandering, repacking of my backpack, collection of laundry, trip to the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_38">Internet</span> cafe, and a lovely meal...it was time to meet <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_39">Mirjam</span> for our cab ride to the bus station....and our bus journey of 11 hours to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_40">Cusco</span>....a journey that I shall fondly remember as "Death by Pan <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_41">Flutë</span>".</div> <div> </div> <div><br />Music videos of some guy playing Pan Flute for the first two hours was replaced then by incessant Pan Flute music for the rest of the journey while we tried to sleep in our reclining seats, which were so large, that for small women like <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_42">Mirjam</span> and I...made it impossible to get comfortable since we were sloshing around in them each time the mad driver took a hairpin mountain road bend doing 60mph...like feet in shoes four sizes too big.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />We were exhausted upon arrival in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_43">Cusco</span> (I seem to have begun a trend of a good nights sleep followed by a night of no sleep, and then a night of good sleep etc etch) but I was happy to see someone greeting our bus with a sign with my name on it! We got to my hotel (which was included in my trip to trek the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_44">Salkantay</span>) around 6am...and were told that check in <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_45">wasn't</span> until 11am. However, the very kind man at the front desk gave us a key to a twin room where he said we could sleep for a few hours until my real room was vacated. I could have kissed him, I was so elated. And I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_46">didn</span>´t even have to tell him that it was my birthday!!</div> <div> </div> <div><br />I´ll leave it there for now and pick up from here, probably tomorrow, where I will relate my stories of the trek and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_47">Machu</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_48">Picchu</span>!</div> <div> </div>Anitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15626168590750165296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4491582739399341065.post-10604768047054645622009-04-19T12:44:00.000-07:002010-07-27T14:22:38.510-07:00Peru Adventure Part III<div>Its 4.30am and I am waiting to be picked up for my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Salkantay</span> Trek which ends in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Machu</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Picchu</span> next Thursday. It is going to be one of the hardest hikes of my life, covering 75 kilometres and going over a 4950 metres pass! I am excited, exhausted, and terrified at the same time. One things for sure, I´ll be coming back thinner.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />I am sorry I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">didn</span>´t get a chance to write you all yesterday. I was in bed most of the day suffering from the effects of heavy partying for my birthday. Thanks to all of you who sent their well wishes. It was amazing the fun I managed to have here in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Cusco</span> with only 11 strangers all meeting up at the last minute invite. Lots of fun, and singing, which is all important for me as you know.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />It has been an amazing week leading up to this since I last wrote. I spent 3 days hiking in the worlds deepest Canyon, followed by two days of recovery in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Perus</span> southern city of Arequipa, followed by an overnight bus and acclimatizing in the continents oldest city - <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Cusco</span>!</div> <div> </div> <div><br />My guide should be here for me any second now, so I will probably write off now and write properly from <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Aguas</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Caliente</span> if I can...the night before my big climb to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Machu</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Pichu</span> itself. Its so weird that after all these years of hearing that name, and imagining myself there...that I am actually about to set out on my own to walk to it! Hard to fathom.</div> <div> </div>Anitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15626168590750165296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4491582739399341065.post-19667658292028643872009-04-15T12:41:00.000-07:002010-07-27T14:22:38.511-07:00Peru Adventure Part II<div>Where did I last leave you hanging? I believe that I was just arriving in Pisco, dismayed at what I witnessed, a town that looked like it had been ravaged by civil war for 10 years...</div> <div> </div> <div><br />Nevertheless, I was happy to be out of Lima, and set about using the afternoon to firm up some of my other travel arrangements (still minus an English guidebook!!). I booked a day trip for the following morning to the ¨Poor Man´s Galapagos Islands¨ of Las Islas Ballestas followed by an afternoon tour of the Reserva National de las Paracas. Then I spent all afternoon in an internet cafe arranging accommodation and my Inca Trail Salkantay Trek for when I arrived in Cuzco..(am leaving for Cuzco tomorrow night...so excited!)</div> <div> </div> <div><br />The following day I headed out bright and early to the islands which are a natural wildlife reserve, home to literally thousand of Cormorands, Pelicans, blah blah blah birds (i´m not an orthonologist by a stretch), Humbolt penguins, a colony of 10,000 sea lions, and lest we not forget for the smell we were tormented with during the 2 hour visit...one of <span class="il">Peru</span>´s primary exports= GUANO, or more commonly known as ¨BIRD SHIT. Wow it was bad. Somehow the smell made my already seasick stomach churn all the more and I had to stay seated much of the time, buring my nose into my shirt. The scenery was beautiful, as was the wildlife, but I am just such an, Í don´t know, ¨¨spoiled, over-travelled bastard¨´, that I´m left comparing it to other more spectacular places I´ve been to in the world. I know, I know, its awful. Today I had lunch with a couple who said they knew it was time to head home after travelling through South East Asia when they sat on a beautiful, pristine, white sand, turquiose water beach and thought ¨´Ugh! Another paradisaic beach...I´m so bored with them!´¨ It happens.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />I spent the whole day with a small group of women from Argentina, <span class="il">Peru</span>, and Belgium who had met living in Buenos Aires. It was my third day conversing with other people ONLY in Spanish! By this point, I was getting pretty good...and I even made my first joke in Spanish (though I can´t remember what it was at this moment). The afternoon took us to the Paracas Reserve which was interesting because of its vast sand dunes, rugged coastline ....very damaged by the earthquake, with visible 3 foot cracks in the rock caused by exposed fault lines. Our guide had me on the edge of my seat, as it were, as he recalled that day August 15, 2007...when he had taken tourists down to the beach and walked under the natural arch and cave only hours before the whole thing came down in the 7.8 quake. He explained how the shaking had started vertically and then moved horizontal, lasting an agonizing 4 minutes and completely flattening the city. There was a big celebratory mass taking place in the cathedral and all 400 or so souls inside perished. </div> <div> </div> <div><br />We also learned about the Paracas culture which pre-dated Inca culture, with ruins dating back to 2100 years BC. They are credited with the design of the Nazca lines where I was heading in a few days...</div> <div> </div> <div><br />After a nervous hour waiting at the bus station, with my hands and arms wrapped around my luggage (Pisco is very dangerous...I was told not to walk on the street after 3pm!! WTF!....People are desperate since they lost everything in the quake) I was taken by cab back to the PanAmerican Highway to rendez vous with my bus to Ica. I shared the cab with an annoying buddhist German traveller who kept talking about his infected foot, and how the pain and trouble it has caused him travelling, coupled with the suffering he experienced as a child, was a profound blessing. I bid him adieu with a heartfelt wish that he continued having horrible experiences on his trip that he could learn from...which he seemed genuinely pleased to hear. Bizarre.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />The sunset against the desert from the bus was spectacular. I started worrying about the cab I was going to have to take to get to my next stop...the desert Oasis of Huacachina. Everytime I step into a cab on this trip, a small part of me wonders whether I´ll end up at my desired destination or...God forbid, some other locale where I might be robbed, raped, or worse. Its a worry shared by all solo travellers, especially women. Luckily for me, my driver Tony seemed very pleasant and happily chatted to me all the way to the Oasis.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />I arrived in the dark and it took a while for me to find my hostel. I checked in, dismayed that there was no window in my dorm room...and wandered outside to grab some dinner. Having not spoken to a soul in English in over 3 days (the German dude did not count)...I couldn´t face another meal alone, and invited myself to sit at a table with 2 Australian girls and their mother. It was so nice to talk in English...but, I must admit...after listening to them chatter wildly about their wonderful friends and family reunion hiking the Inca Trail, and how 6 of them were continuing on to Bolivia, and how Mom had flown 36 hours to come spend a week with her daughter...I began to feel very sad about my going it alone. They left when I was still waiting for my meal to arrive...and I admit a few tears were flowing by the time I asked for my check. It was such a picturesque setting, even in the night, the sky full of stars, a nearly full moon reflecting against the lakes backed by mountainous looking sand dunes...but all I longed for was a companion that I could share it with. </div> <div> </div> <div><br />The following morning I met up with two girls who had staggered in drunk to my dorm room at about 3am. They were the craziest travellers I have ever met...arriving in <span class="il">Peru</span> with no money, working in Lima for a month for room and board, hitch hiking on local trucks from town to town, walking the train tracks to Machu pichu because they couldn´t afford the bus or train... They´d been in Huacachina for 6 days and talked to all the locals as if they´d been friends since childhood. We went for breakfast, stopped on the way for Lauren to try and talk one of the local drunks who was still sleeping in the street after their night of revelry into having breakfast with us, an effort which she thankfully gave up on after ¨´Rodofo´´ walked into a lampost and promptly fell down. I listened to another hour of their insane bohemian, drunken stories...and was relieved to go back to my way of travel...heading back to the room to grab my laundry and a book by the pool....how very boring and conservative of me.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />That afternoon I decided to go sandboarding, an activity that Huacachina is famous for. Well, the company I went with had their marketing all wrong. The sandboarding was fun, but HOLY SHIT, the sand buggy we drove up the sand dunes in was absolutely, undeniably, the most insane, bone jarring, neck twisting, stomach churning, gut wrenchingly terrifying thrill ride of my life. These drivers are completely bonkers. I wondered how many people had died being crushed by the rolling steel mass of this cage like rollercoaster of an all terrain vehicle, as they careened around sweeping dunes at breakneck speeds and gravity defying angles. We would accelerate up a sand dune that was near vertical, and I kid you not, literally launch at the crest of the sand before crashing down the other side where the driver would immediately accelerate so that your stomach fell away with the drop like you were coming down a theme park thrill ride.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />I had sand in every single crevice of my being by the end of the three hour...um....ordeal? I was still sneezing gobs of sand 2 days later! And they should have warned contact lens wearers like me that they would be rendered blind by the sand blasting your face while they raced around the moonlike landscape. The scenery was spectacular, and felt like we were on location for the next Star Wars movie. The sandboarding itself was fun except that my feet were too small and kept coming away from the velcros straps invariably throwing me into a cartwheeling fall, head over feet. After two descents, someone said ´´Did you know that someone died here last week?´´ WHAT? Apparently someone fell off their sandboard and broke their neck. Lovely. </div> <div> </div> <div><br />I went down the next four dunes on my butt, using the sandboard like a toboggan. Way more fun, and a tad more safe.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />I was so late getting back to the tour place that I literally had to run (sand clumped in my shoes) back to my hostel, deciding that I just had to shower and change before grabbing a cab back to the highway in time for my bus to Nazca. I still had sand all over me, but it was bearable for the 2 hour journey. I just made my connection.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />Nazca is famous for the Nazca ´´Lines¨´ ...strange shapes of creatures and symbols that can only be seen from the air. There were many theories that I had read about why these Lines were created and how, and I was hoping that my pre flight would include some more information about their genesis. Unfortunately that was not the case.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />After cabbing it to my hotel, we were greeted by a roadblock for another Easter Procession...so I walked the last 4 blocks through hundreds of people, with all my bags, still crunching with sand, to my place for the night. Setting down my bags, I ran out into the street again and joined the throngs of candle waving Catholics eager to throw flowers on the statue of the Virgin Mary...and a glass coffin with an ephigy of Jesus inside. I turned left out of the crowd, ran ahead of the procession and then doubled back on myself to get photos ahead of the crowd. It was quite beautiful.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />Not that hungry, I bought some fruit from a street stall, and after wandering around the city munching away for about an hour, I headed back to my room, re-de-sanded myself in the shower, and collapsed into bed.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />The following morning I woke early, took some travel sickness pills, ate a tiny breakfast and headed out to the local airport. The plane was a 5 person Cessna, and being solo, I got to sit next to the pilot. Despite the medication, I still felt very sick, especially when the plane banked and circled again and again around each figure allowing us to get a good look and hopefully a photo of the shapes below. Overall, the lines were much harder to detect than I had imagined...and despite it being a curiosity satisfier, I was left feeling a bit disappointed in myself for wanting to do this just to have ´´ticked it off´on my to do list of <span class="il">Peru</span>.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />Oh. I forgot to mention my next wondrous experience with my lovely bus company Ormeno. I had booked a trek to the Colca Canyon for the following morning, and the company were picking me up at 8am sharp from the bus station in Arequipa. I had checked, rechecked, and triple checked with Ormeno staff and website to ensure that the bus would not be late. I was assured, repeatedly, that the scheduled arrival time was 6am, but normally it arrived around 7am, and occasionally in heavy traffic 730am. However, on arrival in Nazca at 11pm the night before, I reconfirmed my ticket only to be told, mockingly I might add, that the bus to Arequipa NEVER arrives before 9am, and that EVERYONE should know this. I was infuriated...and was told that I should book the afternoon bus leaving Nazca at 3pm, getting me in to Arequipa at midnight. Could I do this over the phone in the morning? Of course, no problem, I was told.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />Liars. All of them. In the morning I called, having decided to take the afternoon bus, and was told ´´no its not possible, you must come to the bus station to change ticket. Must come soon as its Easter weekend and nearly no seats left´¨. So, after my flight...instead of being able to take advantage of the free lunch and pool at the next door hotel, I had to taxi it another 20 minutes to the bus station, and 20 minutes back to my hotel just to change my stupid ticket. And when I got to the bus station, the guy at the counter just looked at me blankly and said he couldn´´t change my ticket. I learned how to give violent protest in Spanish...to which he shrugged his shoulders, picked up the phone, mumbled for about a minute to someone, then handed me back my ticket and said ¨´its ok...come for bus at 3pm´´. THAT was what I HAD TO COME IN PERSON FOR? To listen to your initial refusal, then one minute phone call? No new reservation, new ticket, new seat assignment? I left in a huff, telling him that not one person working for Ormeno had told me the truth yet. Ugh.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />After a mountain of cab fare, I packed the rest of my stuff and set out in sun baked Nazca to find a winter jacket for my high altitude trek to the Colca Canyon. Where was I going to find this? In the parched desert? I was having no luck, then stumbled on place that had a few reasonable coats, and grabbed the only one that fit, paying way too much for it I´m sure.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />The bus to Arequipa was about 9 hours....and they played 3 action packed, violent, LOUD, movies back to back. Crash, followed by Death Sentence, and a Jet Li film to finish us off. By the time the martial art film came on...about 2-3rds of the bus was trying desperately to sleep, so I went downstairs and suggested that they put the movie on in English with Spanish subtitles (all movies were dubbed in Spanish with English subtitles...weird huh?) and turn the volume down since all were trying to sleep. She nodded, seemingly in a daze. They changed the movie into English...but then turned the volume UP. Jesus. I jammed in my earplugs and tried to sleep listening to the sounds of incessant fighting. Oy.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />The bus was late. I got in to Arequipa at 3am, was dropped off at my supposedly open 24 hour hotel, looking forward to my 4 hours of sleep...only to find that no one answered the door and I was left standing on the street, in the dark, with all my bags, wondering if I was facing a cold night alone on the street....I´ll leave you there...wondering what happened as this letter is long enough by now!!</div> <div> </div>Anitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15626168590750165296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4491582739399341065.post-11598028860787315392009-04-12T12:37:00.000-07:002010-07-27T14:31:58.994-07:00Peru Adventure Part IWhen I last wrote you, I left off at the point where I was saying farewell<br />to Central America and heading to the airport for my solo <span class="il">adventure</span> in <span class="il">Peru</span>.<br />Well, what an <span class="il">adventure</span> it has been so far.<br /><br /><br />We´ll start with the saga of the guidebook. All travellers know that a<br />guidebook is essential to any foreign excursion. Especially when you are<br />doing a ¨<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">DIY</span>¨deal, it is essential to know what there is to do, where you<br />can stay, how you get to places etc. Without said guidebook, one might say<br />that you feel somewhat paralyzed, and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">that's</span> in a country where you speak the<br />language, and buses arrive on time, and people tell you the truth when they<br />are selling a trip. But not <span class="il">Peru</span>. Here, being without a guidebook is<br />extremely difficult. As I found out on Monday.<br /><br /><br />On my last night in San Jose, I went searching for a guidebook in several<br />large bookstores. They had all kinds of books from all of South America but<br />nothing on <span class="il">Peru</span>. ¨You´ll find one at the airport, they told me¨. No<br />problem.<br /><br /><br />SO, at the airport, departing San Jose, there were plenty of guidebooks,<br />hundreds in fact, but they were all for Costa Rica. Not sure why that would<br />be necessary if you´re leaving Costa Rica, but oh well. I figured the same<br />would be true in <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Lima</span>, and I would find myriads of books in the departure<br />area of the airport. I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">wasn</span>´t too concerned. However, upon arrival, to my<br />dismay ' I found lots of travel guides but NONE for <span class="il">Peru</span>...for Rome, Athens,<br />London, Europe, Chile, India, Nepal...anywhere you wanted to go, except the<br />country YOU HAD JUST ARRIVED IN. When I asked, I discovered that it <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">wasn</span>´t<br />that they were out of Peruvian guidebooks, they just <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">didn</span>´t carry them!<br /><br /><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Ok</span>. Deep breath. I´ll find one. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Stela</span>´s family had very generously<br />offered to let me stay with them in Lima. Her brother, Saviour, met me at<br />the airport and we walked out to the car. I then saw her father, 76 years<br />old, Jose ¨Pepe¨ <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Diaz</span> standing in the heat with his walking frame in the<br />heat and I just wanted to give him a hug for being so kind.<br /><br /><br /><br />The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Diaz</span> family were wonderful to me and extremely hospitable. It was<br />also the greatest Spanish lesson of my life, I think I spoke more<br />Spanish in that one day than I have in the last 10 years. I also<br />learned, to my horror, that I´<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">ve</span> been saying certain phrases that mean<br />something completely different than I originally thought. Apparently,<br />when in the past I have commented to someone ¨Wow, its so hot, and I´m<br />so tired...but I´m excited to be here¨ I have actually been saying<br />¨Yeah, I´m hot stuff, and I´m so married....but I´m sexually aroused.¨<br /><br /><br />Oops.<br /><br /><br />I immediately noticed with the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Diaz</span> family just how patient everyone<br />is here with one another. After driving to their family home and<br />dropping off my luggage, Savior and I sat and chatted for a while. I<br />asked him what the plan was..and he said that he was waiting for me.<br />¨Where is your Dad´´ I asked, ¨¨in the car, waiting for us!¨¨ So<br />bizarre. I was sure that I was waiting for them.<br /><br /><br />So off we went to find the local tourism office and enquire after<br />finding an English language guidebook. I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">couldn</span>´t imagine it to be<br />too difficult. Well, they sent us to 3 different bookstores, and we<br />ended up fighting traffic for the next 4 hours, disappointed at each<br />store that had lots of guidebooks, but none on <span class="il">Peru</span>. I felt so awful<br />to be wasting their time, not to mention gas for their car, and the<br />fact that they were all hungry. Pepe kept telling me not to worry,<br />because if I was a friend of his daughter, then I am also his<br />daughter. He was so sweet.<br /><br /><br />This all would be stressful enough, except that, did I mention, Pepe<br />really can´t drive to save his, and ultimately, our lives. The entire<br />time we were in the car I was braced for a metal twisting, screeching<br />brake, people yelling collision. Pepe drove very slow, causing every<br />car to honk their horn at him, yell angrily, and drive madly around<br />him. Because he drove so slowly, he kept stalling the car...when he<br />tried to rev it from 5mph in 3rd gear. We would stall in the middle<br />of an 8 way intersection, and I would just close my eyes and brace for<br />impact. I ts a miracle we survived.<br /><br /><br />At one point, Pepe decided he <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">didn</span>´t want to turn right, and turned<br />left into oncoming traffic, honking his way through cars, in order to<br />make a U Turn. It was absolutely terrifying. I asked Savior why he<br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">didn</span>´t drive, and he said that he <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">didn</span>´t want to pass the exam. I<br />don´t know, I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">wouldn</span>´t let my dad drive me around if I felt that each<br />venture out of the house might be my last.<br /><br /><br />At one point, Pepe just stopped the car dead in the middle of the<br />street and started to get out of the car. It took him about 10<br />minutes, after which he stood there and peed. It was<br />very...interesting.<br /><br /><br />After an exasperating time looking for the damn book, we gave up and<br />decided to go buy my bus ticket for tomorrow to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">Pisco</span>, as the lady at<br />the tourism office had warned us that since it was Holy Week, I MUST<br />buy tickets today, I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">couldn</span>´t buy tickets in the morning, and the bus<br />might be sold out.<br /><br /><br />I kid you not, it took another hour and a half just to crawl through<br />traffic MADNESS to get to the bus station, then another hour waiting<br />in line to talk to an incompetent sales agent who moved at the speed<br />of tortoise on <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">valium</span>. The bus company had been recommended to me..it<br />was called <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">Ormeno</span>' it was supposed to be the nicest of the companies,<br />and the safest. However, I really think they should change their<br />slogan from ¨´We are the people who help people travel´....to ´´We are<br />the people who make it as difficult as possible for you to give us<br />business!!´´<br /><br /><br />The following morning, I arrived, early. The bus was an hour late and<br />wait for it...there were only 2 passengers on board. We had to spend<br />5 hours arranging tickets for THAT. I don´t understand why people<br />can´t just make bookings on the phone or the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">Internet</span>, especially<br />since it is a city clogged to a full stop with traffic. Apparently,<br />as I´<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">ve</span> discovered over the past few days, you can ONLY change your<br />ticket IN PERSON, AT THE BUS STATION, even if that means you have to<br />spend an entire afternoon and taxi fare going back and forth.<br /><br /><br />That evening the family and I went to have Chinese food, which was a<br />little odd for my first day in <span class="il">Peru</span>. However, I did try a Peruvian<br />staple of Inca Kola...the Peruvian soft drink of choice which is<br />bright yellow and tastes of bubble gum. By the time we finished<br />eating it was 11pm, and I still had to go to the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">Internet</span> to print AT<br />LEAST one chapter of the Lonely Planet,...which ended up taking<br />another two hours to print, no laser printers here!<br /><br /><br />Needless to say, I was extremely sleep deprived in the morning, but<br />caught my bus to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">Pisco</span> and felt quite relieved to be leaving the dirty<br />metropolis. I loved staying with the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25">Diaz</span> family, I only wish I had<br />had the time to watch them teach in their local folk ´´<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26">Marinera</span>¨dance<br />school....<br /><br /><br />The bus itself was very comfortable and despite being tired, I<br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27">couldn</span>´t resist watching Marley and Me even though it was dubbed in<br />Spanish. These <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28">Ormeno</span> Spanish movies have been really improving my<br />language skills. I arrived in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29">Pisco</span> having balled my eyes out after<br />Marley had died, and then nearly started crying when I looked at the<br />city I was entering for the night.<br /><br /><br />It looked like what I imagine war torn rural Iraq to look like.<br /><br /><br />The roads were dusty, buildings completely destroyed, thousands of<br />makeshift homes made from mud and clay....The earthquake of 2007<br />clearly had very visible remnants of its impact, and rebuilding has<br />only just begun.<br /><br /><br />I was beginning to wonder what my hotel would look like, but I was<br />extremely pleasantly surprised to find a beautiful, clean, courtyard,<br />with restaurant, and very welcoming room with breakfast for 16 bucks!<br /><br /><br />I have to end there...to be continued! I am currently in the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30">Colca</span><br />Canyon, so I might not be able to write again for a couple of days...<br /><br /><br />Hope you enjoy!Anitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15626168590750165296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4491582739399341065.post-3659532227204359912009-04-10T12:33:00.000-07:002010-07-27T14:31:58.996-07:00Central America Part III<div>I am writing this letter from the Desert Oasis of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Huacachina</span> in Peru...so much has happened since I last wrote to you that I could probably fill a novel with the stories. Which, hopefully, I will one day. I started this account in La <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Fortuna</span>, Costa Rica...so Ill just start there and go chronologically up to Peru...</div> <div> </div> <div> </div> <div><br />I´<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">ve</span> had another incredible day in Costa Rica, perhaps even one to rival the Canopy Tour-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">zipline</span> day! This morning I tried the sport of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">canyoneering</span> for the first time, which includes hiking, climbing through rivers, rappelling down wet rocks and waterfalls! It was exhilarating. <br /><br /><br />Our guides (who were delightful eye candy) picked us up at 7:30am and kitted us out with harnesses, helmets and gloves. We were warned that we were going to get wet, so I just had on my quick dry shirt and shorts with a swimsuit underneath. We were going to be traversing through the jungle, through a canyon called ¨The Lost Canyon” because, apparently, it <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">doesn</span>´t exist on a map. The scenery was lush and spectacular. After a safety briefing we started our first rappel down through the river, holding tightly to our safety ropes, lowering ourselves stepping carefully on the slippery rock, while our guides kicked water all over us.<br /><br /><br />The entire experience was a thrill, especially the 300 foot rappel down the main waterfall. I had to not look down and just trust that the guides were going to keep the rope taught should I lose my grip on my “speed controlling” rope. We also got the chance to jump, swim, immerse, plunge, traverse and get heavily doused in water for the entire morning…and we were spent by the time the tour came to an end and we had to climb back up to the top of the canyon.<br /><br /><br />After a quick shower and change into dry clothes, we were delighted by a fantastic home cooked meal of stewed pork, rice, mango <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">pico</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">de</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">gallo</span>, avocados, coleslaw, black beans, and tortilla chips. Yum!<br /><br /><br />Arriving back to our hotel we all disappeared for a couple hours´ of nap. Then I decided that there is no rest for the wicked and set out to rent a couple of bikes for a ride up to La <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Fortuna</span> waterfall, which I was assured was an “easy, 7km, 30 minute” ride to the waterfall. Lies. All of them.</div> <div> </div> <div> </div> <div><br />The bike ride to the thundering and spectacular La <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Fortuna</span> waterfall was even more challenging that climbing the volcano in Nicaragua. Sweat poured off of me, I finished my water way too early, and to make matters worse, I had to keep stopping to get off the bike and reattach the chain that kept coming off every time I shifted down. My hands were covered in oil, and then my face too as I kept forgetting not to wipe the sweat off of my forehead with my hands! The last section was so steep that I was forced to dismount and haul myself and the bike the last 500 metres.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />We were rewarded upon arrival. Throwing off our clothes we dove into the crisp cool water and swam out to the falls, delighting in the powerful undertow created by the force of the falls. We were told not to swim out too far as some unlucky swimmers had been pulled under by the sheer power , and then drowned because they got stuck in the spin cycle that it creates. I decided to skip that one.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />Heading back we raced against time and the beautifully setting sun to have a couple more goes on the rope swing at the swimming hole (where we had spent the afternoon the day before after our long journey from <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Monteverde</span>). It is a favorite local hangout and the rope is a no joke Tarzan like apparatus which requires you to take a leap of faith and time the release just right so that you plunge 20 feet into the deepest part of the river below. It was a lot of fun, but it took me counting to 3 like 10 times before Angela had the nerve to do it. By the time we made it back into town, it was dark and we were <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">completely</span> spent.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />After a welcome ice cold beer, and a much needed shower, the group headed out for our "goodbye dinner". Thank God. I <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">couldn't</span> wait to say goodbye to these people. Ive never travelled with a more inane and unfriendly bunch in my life. They were the only downside to my time in <span class="il">Central</span> America and I was getting nervous about my organized trip in Peru, for fear it would be a similar experience.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />The following day we had the morning to ourselves before our last van ride down to San Jose. The two girls desperately wanted to go visit this animal sanctuary where they rescued and cared for animals that had been hurt, mistreated, or kept as pets illegally. They needed 3 people to arrange the trip which included 4 hours of volunteer work with the creatures (or <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">bubiks</span> as I like to call the cute ones..its a made up word my sister and I invented). So, being the generous person I am, I decided to sign up as well.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />It was quite enjoyable. We got to play with a gorgeously cute <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Kicachoo</span> called Benjamin who had been hit by a car (kind of a red <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">raccoon</span>), and hold hands with a spider monkey who thrived on human contact. They also had baby sloths and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">racoons</span> that were unbelievable cute. The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">Asis</span> sanctuary was doing good work and had a lot of volunteers who had come to vacation here for a few weeks and work with the animals. We were put to work cleaning a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">raccoon</span> cage...which <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">wasn</span>'t as bad as it sounds...except it was rather strange to be raking leaves for a creature that is considered such a pest back home and often destroyed because of the disease that they carry. In any case, it felt good to be putting some good into the universe for these creatures. I got some adorable pictures too which will follow for sure.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />That afternoon we drove the five hours down to San Jose, and it was so winding that it turned out to be, for me, the worst travel day of the trip thus far.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />I was starting to get nervous, as I still had not received my email confirmation from GAP adventures for my 21 day Peru extravaganza. When we arrived at 7pm and I still <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">hadn't</span> heard, I asked my sister in the UK to call them...and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">that's</span> when I found out that I <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">hadn't</span> made it on the trip. I cried for like 20 minutes at the news, then pulled myself together...reminded myself that I could do the same trip alone and that I would be <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">ok</span>. That this might be a blessing in disguise. That I would meet people along the way, that I <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25">would</span>n't be lonely, that I'd get a guidebook, and book things as they came up. It would all work out. </div> <div> </div> <div><br />Having said that, when<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"> I've</span> travelled alone in the past, it was after extensive research and planning. I had read nothing, and had done nothing except book my flight. I <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27">didn't</span> even know where I{d be staying in Lima, and was nervous about travelling in a country which is notorious for theft and crimes against travellers, especially women.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />SO, it was with great trepidation that I fell asleep that night. Fortunately, my Peruvian friend, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28">Stela</span>, was kind enough to call her parents in Lima, who offered to put me up for the first night. That felt better.</div> <div> </div> <div><br />But oh boy, so much has happened since I got here, and its only Day 4!!</div> <div> </div> <div><br />However, I will leave it there and complete my saga later.....and so it continues!</div>Anitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15626168590750165296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4491582739399341065.post-73906327022916919452009-04-03T12:27:00.000-07:002010-07-27T14:31:58.997-07:00Central America Part IIGreetings from Costa Rica!<br /><br /><br />Let me start by saying a big thank you to those of you who so kindly wrote to me offering words of encouragement and support. It really means a lot to me. I have decided to keep travelling...(what the hell?) since I don't know when I'll get another opportunity like this! And I really need to time to heal, regroup, figure out what is next in my life. On Tuesday, this part of the <span class="il">Central</span> <span class="il">American</span> <span class="il">adventure</span> will end and I will be flying to Lima in Peru!! I'm going to spend about a month travelling through Peru and then end up in Bolivia, flying back to San Jose in Costa Rica (where my original flight home was from) on April 28. SO: if any of you would like to meet me in Costa Rica for a week or so at the end of my adventures....PLEASE LET ME KNOW!! Right now, I've changed my flight home to Seattle to May 13.....! <br /><br /><br />SO! I have the CRAZIEST day today! We are currently staying in the cloud forest reserve town of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Monteverde</span> in Costa Rica. This afternoon I reluctantly agreed to partake in a canopy tour of the cloud rain forest, which basically involves hurtling yourself at high speeds across mountainous chasms (at least 1500 feet up in the air) attached to a steel zip line and a hip harness. Some of the "crossings" were over 2600 metres in length, taking a full 2 minutes to cross. It was the closest thing to flying that I've ever experienced in my life and it was both exhilarating and utterly terrifying. They give you a lot of tips to help prevent you from starting to spin out of control, or worse yet, braking so much that you end up suspended in the middle of the cable, dangling over the canyon...as the only way out of that situation is literally pulling yourself hand over hand upside down to the other side....CRAZY!<br /><br /><br />If that wasn't bad enough- the last canopy "ride" was a Tarzan style swing which was kind of like zip line meets a bungee jump. It was insane, and I don't know how I did it! I literally held my breath and let the guide push me off the ledge where I was standing, where I proceeded to free fall for about 35 feet before the rope held taught and I was flying screaming over the treetops. Exhilarating.<br /><br /><br />I was so exhausted by the end, and it was mostly because of all the built up adrenaline from the afternoon.<br /><br /><br />I left off my last email in the beautiful colonial town of Granada in southern Nicaragua...the poorest country in <span class="il">Central</span> America. On the first afternoon a few of us took a boat trip on Lake Nicaragua to several of the thousands of islands that dot this second largest freshwater lake in all of South America (after Lake Titicaca). Our guide gave us the history of the area as well as some pretty grim statistics of current affairs- 62% unemployment, 71% of the nation is under age 30, and the average wage is $1,000 a year. He said that having a job here is like owning treasure...you cherish it. Gave me a lot of food for thought and helped to explain the events that took place over dinner that evening that I described in my last email. People pushed to the edge just to survive are capable of doing anything.<br /><br /><br />It has been difficult not to notice the extreme poverty in Nicaragua. It was bad in Honduras too...but not quite as evident. A lot more people are begging on the street, many of them young children, and there are plenty of hawkers trying to sell anything they can to those who will part with cash. Many homes for multiple family members are single room abodes with dirt floors and little furniture or creature comforts. For the most part though, everyone I´<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">ve</span> met seems happy- because the one thing that stands out here as being available in an extremely plentiful fashion is...community. Everyone here knows their neighbors, they acknowledge each other and linger in conversation, they offer rides to one another as they drive by, and in the smaller towns, everyone knows each other. Family seems very important too, so it appears that despite the hardships of life, the people have one another and therefore find joy in their day to day lives. That is at least my impression.<br /><br /><br />The next day I went on a tour of the active <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Masaya</span> Volcano. Unfortunately (felt like cheating) you could drive to the top and then peer over the edge into the steaming <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">cauldron</span> of sulphurous gases. I thought it was funny that there were miles of hiking trails, some of which we did, and also signs stating that you had to park backed into a spot, just in case the area had to be evacuated in a hurry!<br /><br /><br />Afterwards we visited a craft market, had a delicious hearty lunch, and visited a ceramic factory where we could try our hands at clay pottery. I was dismal unfortunately- the foot-eye coordination that spinning the wheel and simultaneously molding the clay required was beyond me. :-(<br /><br /><br />That evening we had the worst meal of the trip in this nasty local restaurant lit with blindingly bright <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">fluorescent</span> lights. ugh. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Couldn</span>´t complain though...it cost $2 for a plate of chicken, rice, and beans. <br /><br /><br />Though it has improved somewhat, I was still having a very hard time getting along with my group who seem to have simply excluded me from their conversations. I am looking forward to being with new people come Peru...I´m beginning to wonder if its just me and that I make an awful travel companion?<br /><br /><br />I committed to moving on to doing my own thing, and meeting more locals. Which I did.<br /><br /><br />After a gruelling 12 hour travel day, which began at 5am, we arrived in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Isla</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Ometepe</span>, which is a Volcanic island created by the molten lava flowing between two volcanoes in Southern Nicaragua: Concepcion and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Madera</span>. The heat was astronomical here. It was well over 100 ´F by 10am..and we had most of the journey on HOT, STICKY, I AM NOW AT ONE WITH MY SEAT, chicken buses. We had the added pleasure of riding on the chicken ferry that afternoon too! Don´t ask me what made it chicken. I threw up.<br /><br /><br />Our hotel was located another hour´s bumpy unpaved road away on the beach of Lake Nicaragua. It was a charming little spot...lots of pink cabins cooled only with fans, and lots of hammocks dotted around the grounds and beach front. We were in the middle of nowhere. Lovely. It was so hot, that after I´d ordered my lunch....I got up from the table, walked into the lake (fully clothed), submerged, got up, walked back to the table, and sat down. Sleeping was very hard these two nights....especially when the power went out and the only relief from the fans was cut off. My <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">roommate</span> and I just kept getting up in the night, taking a cold shower, then lying back on the bed sopping wet...giggling at the situation. It was quite funny.<br /><br /><br />The following morning I set out at 6:30am to climb Volcano <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Masaya</span>. I was feeling very brave as it was a 4586 foot mountain, and we were at sea level....<span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">that's</span> quite a day hike, especially in the heat. And I was the only one who wanted to go! I managed to find a guide who was taking another few people from the hotel next door, and joined his group. I hiked with a lovely gay couple from England, and a married couple from Toronto. Our guide, Daniel, was charming and asked for help when struggling with his English (he also let me sing Beatles songs to him all the way down which gave him extra bonus points in my book). Thankfully, most of the hike was in forest canopy, so we were shielded from the unforgiving sun. It was a challenging climb, about a 1-4 of the way up, our English friends said they were headed down to get a couple of Margaritas and sit it out... I was undeterred. I felt SO HAPPY finally hiking again, doing something active, and was so excited to see the cloud forest at the top and the giant crater. It was the first time my surroundings really penetrated deeply, taking me far far away from my life back home, from my relentlessly painful heartbreak, from my job loss, from Seattle...and I surrendered to the wild cat like sounds of the howler monkeys, the heat of the jungle, the hum of the cicadas, and the steady sound of my heart as it burst from my chest with exertion. <br /><br /><br />By the time we <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">summited</span>, after a 4 1-2 hour uphill slog, I was covered head to foot in mud, cuts, scrapes, not to mention sweat. We descended then into the crater which had a lush green floor and beautiful lake. I immediately wanted to swim, and my guide warned me against it saying it was muddy. How bad could it be? In I went, only to discover when I stood up, that I sank, as if in quicksand, UP TO MY CHEST!! Holy crap. Literally. Luckily I had brought an extra litre of drinking water as I had to use it just to get the muck off of my flesh. he he.<br /><br /><br />Upon reaching the car on the way back, we were all completely spent and filthy. Our guide was kind enough to drive us straight to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Ojo</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">de</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Agua</span>...a freshwater swimming hole in the forest, where we all gladly collapsed into the cool, refreshing, water. By the time our cold <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">Capirinhas</span> and chicken tacos arrived (this water hole had a restaurant next to it!!) I was in <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">ecstasy</span>. I met a man by the name of James there, who happened to be from Oregon. Since he was travelling alone, (and kind of cute), I invited him to come have dinner with me later at the hotel. I was pleasantly surprised when he turned up!<br /><br /><br />We had a wonderful 3 hour conversation, and it was exactly what I needed after having felt such a lack of relating to my fellow travellers. About life, travelling, being <span class="il">American</span>, culture shock (when returning to the States), love, family, etc, etc. One of those conversations that are as delicious as a good meal. Then came a shocking coincidence. James lived NEXT DOOR to Korey´s father in the little town of Jacksonville, Oregon. How bizarre is that? To say its a small world after all would be an understatement.<br /><br /><br />I was sad to leave Nicaragua yesterday, and upon arriving in Costa Rica, you could immediately sense an economic and social shift. What do you mean I have to pay more than a dollar for a beer??!!!! Yes, goodbye to unreal prices...hello burgeoning western style tourism. <br /><br /><br />There have been many long travel days on this trip thus far. I haven´t minded them so much as I am about 600 pages into my 1000 page English Middle Age novel ¨"World without End¨". Its weird to be taken away from my <span class="il">Central</span> <span class="il">American</span> "world" into my <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">Gothic</span> English "world" on every bus trip, but it adds an interesting dynamic which I´m repeating after having read this novel´s prequel "Pillars of the Earth" last year in Chile. The only thing that is really bothersome (and I think of you, Monica, when I say this!!) is that you have to exercise supreme bladder control...because we can be leaving at 6am and not stopping for the bathroom for 4-6 hours at a time. Which is really difficult when you take into account trying to stay hydrated because of the heat.<br /><br /><br />All adds to the experience, I guess.<br /><br /><br />Actually, we were quite relieved when we arrived in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">Monteverde</span> yesterday as the climate is much cooler here...since we are in a cloud <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">rain forest</span>, about 1800 feet above sea level. <br /><br /><br />Before going on the insane canopy tour this afternoon, we actually had another <span class="il">adventure</span> this morning, a description of which I will end this email with...as it is already insane in its length. We got up at 5:30am (I know, I don´t know why I find it so easy on vacation!!) to catch the bus to the Biological Reserve in the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">Monteverde</span> Cloud Forest National Park. We hired a naturalist to take us on a guided walk into the forest in search of the diverse wildlife of Costa Rica. Costa Rica, apparently, has more species per square kilometre than anywhere else on earth. By the end of our 3 hour hike, the number of species we saw (some up close and personal) was extremely impressive...and I´m so glad that we had the guide, as there is no way I would have spotted half of these birds-creatures had we just gone the route of many of the tourists there in taking a self guided walk. We saw:<br /><br /><br />At least 7 varieties of hummingbird<br />The VERY RARE <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">Quetzal</span>, both male and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">female</span> (we were so lucky)<br />A <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">Coati</span> (like a cross between a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25">raccoon</span> and an anteater)<br />Howler Monkeys<br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26">Kapuchin</span> Monkeys<br />A Tarantula (got a great pic!)<br />A baby sloth asleep in the canopy<br />A variety of Toucans<br />Countless other vibrantly colored birds including one called "Car Alarm" bird because of the sound it makes!!<br /><br /><br />It was beautiful. I was very impressed and also enjoyed learning about the plant life, especially the two almost identical plants with giant leaves...one of which is pleasantly scented and called "Toilet Paper" plant, and the other being a member of the stinging nettle family. I felt it might be important to be able to distinguish the difference!<br /><br /><br />Anyway...tomorrow we have a half travel day and are spending the night in La <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27">Fortuna</span>. I will write again soon!.Anitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15626168590750165296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4491582739399341065.post-35352506893434054912009-03-29T12:21:00.000-07:002010-07-27T14:31:33.257-07:00Central America Part I<div id=":b" class="ii gt"> <p><span lang="EN-US">I find myself writing this to all of you from the charming colonial town of Granada, in southern Nicaragua. <span> </span>It is a beautiful little town, with colorful stucco homes and cobbled streets, all the brochures talk about its tourist appeal. <span> </span>However, at dinner tonight, the truth of the hardships faced by so many native Nicaraguans painted a much more real picture of this town and land for everyone sitting at my table. <span> </span>We were about half way through our meal when two people, a young male teenager, and an older woman, walked right up to a few of us and stuck their hands into our plates stealing our food from under our noses. <span> </span>We were eating <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">al</span> fresco on the street, and from that point on, we noticed several others lurking behind our table, waiting to be given any leftovers we might have had. <span> </span>After all these years of globetrotting, not much surprises me anymore. <span> </span>This sure did.</span></p><p><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p> <p><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p> <p><span lang="EN-US">I am just over a week into my trip traveling with Gap Adventures through <span class="il">Central</span> America. <span> </span>I chose this company as they provide accommodation and transport only – leaving you to worry only about activities and areas of interest at each stop along the way. <span> </span>As I mentioned in my last email, this trip was very last minute, so I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">didn</span>´t even really have time to plan or read up on where I was going. <span> </span>The itinerary looked very appealing- it was called the Volcano trail for one, and promised opportunities to hike, dive off the coast of Honduras, climb volcanoes, observe a lot of wildlife in jungles, and cover a lot of ground in a short amount of time. <span> </span>Sounded like my cup of tea.</span></p><p><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p> <p><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p> <p><span lang="EN-US">So off I flew from Seattle to Guatemala city via Atlanta. <span> </span>It was a “red-eye” flight and I was very very sleepy when I arrived, especially after having just experienced a grueling 2 day test right before getting on the aircraft. I had a cab drive me to Antigua which was the first stop on my 17 day tour. <span> </span>It’s a beautiful little town and a welcome retreat from the noise, pollution, and horrendous traffic of Guatemala City. <span> </span>I checked into the little “<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">posada</span>” and took a well needed shower. <span> </span>I spent the next couple of hours wandering around the town, which has entirely cobbled streets, narrow footpaths, and colorful buildings. <span> </span>It was also the start of a Catholic festival, and many of the young boys and men were dressed head to foot in bright purple as the town prepared for the afternoon´s procession…which I got to witness right as it began in the town square. <span> </span>One could tell almost immediately just how devout the Guatemalans are, and what a source of comfort their faith is to them. <span> </span><span> </span>After a long nap, I met up with some of my fellow travelers (unfortunately for me…most of them had already been traveling together for the past 3 weeks and formed bonds with one another…I was the new kid and have had a hard time feeling included) and went out for dinner.<span> </span>By around 9pm I was delirious from exhaustion and passed out.</span></p> <p><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p> <p><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><p><span lang="EN-US">This trip has been filled with early morning departures (the second day we left the hotel at 4:45am…its amazing how well I deal with mornings when I´m not at home in the States…I don´t seem to mind them at all!) and quite a lot of time spent on buses, taxis, and ferries. <span> </span>Lots of time to think (not so good for me), and lots of time to read (good because I brought the sequel to Pillars of the Earth – all 1000 pages of it and am loving it). <span> </span>Our first stop was to cross the border into the “Banana Republic” of Honduras (did you all know that?) and deal with the inefficiencies and tedium which has come to characterize many of the customer/service type interactions thus far. <span> </span>Bureaucracy.<span> </span>From there we drove on to the town of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Copas</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Ruinas</span> which is famous for its Mayan ruins of the city of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Copas</span>…the militaristic headquarters of the grand Mayan Empire of long ago. <span> </span>After setting down our backpacks and enjoying a wonderful lunch of a burrito the size of my head, a few of us set out to check out the ruins. <span> </span></span></p> <p><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p> <p><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><p><span lang="EN-US">We ended up getting a tour guide by the name of Mario who ended nearly every sentence with “…and things like that” whether it grammatically suited the phrase or not. <span> </span>He was a dear old man, and explained that he had been working at the UNESCO world heritage site for the past 30 years, and had never missed a day. <span> </span>The ruins were impressive from the perspective of the quality of sculptures. <span> </span>It was not as grand as the Mayan sites I´d visited in the Yucatan, but the artwork was vastly superior. <span> </span>We were also lucky enough to get some close up shots of vibrantly covered Macaws.</span></p> <p><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p> <p><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><p><span lang="EN-US">It was so strange walking around that day in the relentless heat and humidity, thinking that just a short 36 hours before, I was completing at test at Shoreline community college…so weird. <span> </span>Its taken at least a week for my being here to even really sink in.</span></p> <p><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p> <p><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><p><span lang="EN-US">There are 10 of us in the group- from the US, Canada, Australia, England, and Norway respectively.<span> </span>Our tour guide is from Spokane.<span> </span>Small world, eh?<span> </span>I travel to <span class="il">Central</span> America to get a complete change of scene…and my guide is a Washingtonian. <span> </span>Typical.<span> </span>That night we had a wonderful meal and then drank beers on the rooftop terrace of our hostel, retiring early as we had another early start.</span></p> <p><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p> <p><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><p><span lang="EN-US">We spent the entire next day traveling on “chicken” buses through the winding highlands to the east coast of Honduras where we boarded a catamaran to the Bay Island paradise of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Utila</span>. <span> </span>This ended up a hilarious <span class="il">adventure</span> when we all decided to sit out on deck, and enjoy the fresh air of the crossing, only to also enjoy being constantly pounded by waves crashing over the side of the boat and drenching us all to the bone. <span> </span>We laughed without stopping for about 30 minutes straight, at that point it all got rather cold and our sense of fun was taken away by the knowledge that we were only 1-2 way there! <span> </span></span></p> <p><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p> <p><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><p><span lang="EN-US">We arrived, shivering drowned rats, to this tiny little settlement that the next few days revealed to house an assortment of strange characters seeking escape from the civilized western world in one form or another. <span> </span>The hot shower felt so good that night…and our spirits were all raised by the best <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">bbq</span> I´<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">ve</span> ever had…all for a fantastic $7 which included an ice cold <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">cerveza</span>!</span></p> <p><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p> <p><span lang="EN-US"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"><br /></span></span></p><p><span lang="EN-US"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Utila</span> is on the second largest coral reef in the world and I intended to make the most of it!<span> </span>I got to the dive shop at 6am only to be told that the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">vis</span> would be pretty bad as the weather was calling for choppy seas. <span> </span>I decided to postpone my dive until the following day and went in search of coffee. <span> </span></span></p> <p><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p> <p><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><p><span lang="EN-US">A few of us decided to go on a snorkel trip which included a visit to a couple of uninhabited “Robinson Crusoe” like islands, one of which was only 200 metres wide by 400 metres long. <span> </span>Fantastic.<span> </span>It was leisurely day where we all got pretty much roasted by the sun, snorkeled to our hearts content, and lay out on pure white sand and drank beer. <span> </span>Very harsh indeed.<span> </span>It was so beautiful: but I found myself just wishing for someone to share it all with (other than my new, somewhat lame travel companions).</span></p> <p><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p> <p><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><p><span lang="EN-US">I got to scuba dive the following day : the conditions were perfect.<span> </span>As this was also a prime Whale Shark season, I was told that there was even a decent chance of spotting a Whale Shark for a snorkel encounter. <span> </span>After having had Whale Sharks elude me twice so far in my travels, both on the West Coast of Australia and Mexico…I did not want to hype myself up too much in case I was disappointed again. <span> </span>Alas, the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">sharkies</span> did not come to us…as was explained by our very eccentric <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">divemaster</span> from the UK, Adam, who insisted on STANDING on the roof of the boat as we pounded the sea at full speed, screaming at the top of his lungs “NO!! <span> </span>NO Whale Sharks today…I know when they´re around <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">coz</span> I can SMELL THEM!! <span> </span><span> </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">ARRRGGGHHHH</span>!!”<span> </span>Very odd, but entertaining.</span></p> <p><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p> <p><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><p><span lang="EN-US">It was great to be diving again; though the memory of Jennifer still haunted me as I checked my regulator, o-ring, second stage, and tank…feeling tears come to my eyes. <span> </span>The dives on <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">Utila</span> were rather shallow…we <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">didn</span>´t go down more than 60 feet. <span> </span>I´<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">ve</span> been horribly spoiled in my diving experiences…I found the reef to be somewhat lacking in fish, though the diversity of the coral itself was outstanding. <span> </span>All the same, I´m still always filled with that momentary exquisite realization when I dive that is outside of the visual stimuli of wildlife itself- its just that blatant realization of “shit! <span> </span>I´m underwater…and breathing air!! This is fantastic!”</span></p> <p><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p> <p><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><p><span lang="EN-US">The next two days was almost entirely traveling, again in a variety of long, uncomfortable buses. <span> </span>Something I´m used to thankfully.<span> </span>The highlight for me was after arriving in the Honduran capital of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">Tegulcipalca</span>, we experienced the kind of hair raising cab ride that made you feel you were living in a Jackie Chan movie.<span> </span>Our driver was completely insane, about as insane as the traffic, noise, dirt, crowds, and general nastiness of this sprawling <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">megatropolis</span> which I think in all my travels can only be rivaled by Saigon or India for its intensity.<span> </span>I could never live there.<span> </span></span></p> <p><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p> <p><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><p><span lang="EN-US">Our driver would not stop for stop signs.<span> </span>Why bother, when you can risk yours and your passengers lives by flooring it through intersecting moving traffic???<span> </span>And why believe that you should stick to one side of the road?<span> </span>Especially when you´re forced to wait….no!<span> </span>Just pull over into the opposing lane, floor it around a blind corner doing 50 mph, and then simply slam on the brakes for dear life when at the last possible second you see a truck heading straight for you in a near death head-on collision forcing you to put the car in reverse and drive backwards for nearly 3 minutes?<span> </span>And lest I forget, I also learned the importance of short cuts.<span> </span>Why drive a normal street when you can cut straight through an open public market, driving so fast that stall keepers and small children are forced to run for their lives to get out of the way, and there´s barely room for a bicycle to squeeze through let alone a car?<span> </span>Craziness.</span></p> <p><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p> <p><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><p><span lang="EN-US">When we got to our hotel, my 20 year old <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">Norwegian</span> companion just looked at me, finally exhaled, and said “Well.<span> </span>They don´t do that in Oslo.¨” </span></p> <p><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p> <p><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><p><span lang="EN-US">We arrived in Granada yesterday evening. <span> </span>Today I spent much of my day in this <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">Internet</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">cafe</span> and taking a tour of Lake Nicaragua. <span> </span>Will write again soon!</span></p> </div>Anitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15626168590750165296noreply@blogger.com0