kally563's TravelStream™ — Recent TravelPod.com entries TravelStream™ news feed for member kally563 on TravelPod's free travel blogs service http://www.travelpod.com/syndication/rss/kally563 en-us Copyright ©2009 TravelPod.com Sat, 15 Aug 2009 22:29:32 -0400 http://www.travelpod.com Back in Time to Wrap it Up — Trujillo, Peru http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kally563/7/1250386789/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kally563/7/1250386789/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kally563/7/1250386789/tpod.html Sat, 15 Aug 2009 22:29:32 -0400 Finding More Places to Stick Out
Trujillo, Peru

1987 was a great year to be a collector of pre-Columbian artifacts. Suddenly, the black market was flooded with gold, silver, and ceramics. Beautifully worked necklaces, standards, and headpieces were available, and it wasn't long before US Customs in Miami started recovering crates of ancient treasure previously bound for wealthy American collectors. Peruvian archaeologist Dr. Walter Alva realized these artifacts were coming from somewhere near Chiclayo and with careful questioning, discovered the Sipan mounds. Immediately, the government went into action, securing the area after some bloodshed and halting the smuggling of Peru's national treasures. The former grave robbers (who were more poor opportunistic peasants than hardened criminals) were trained and given jobs excavating the site, and everyone lived happily ever after, mas o menos.Over the centuries, a variety of peoples have made Peru's northern coast their home. from the time of Christ to 800 AD, the Moche lived along the ocean and made the beautiful ceramics for which they are most famous. Near Sipan, they built enormous adobe brick pyramids for ceremonial purposes and buried assorted important officials in and around these structures. The pyramids still exist today, but being made of adobe, they have eroded significantly with time and now look more like dirt hills in the middle of sugar cane fields. I didn't even realize I had been standing on a pyramid until I read about it several hours later in a museum. Which are the other things Chiclayo has, world-class museums to display the Sipan findings.I wish Cuzco had something similar, having been generally disappointed with the quality of Cuzco's museums. The only thing I fail to understand is why two excellent museums, built in the last 10 years, and representing significant investments would contain only Spanish signage. Perhaps it's Anglo-centric of me, but it seems that if you wanted to attract tourists, you would have signs in English, and preferably French, too, since they're all over Peru. It can't cost that much to translate signage.Regardless, I start my day at the Museo de Sitio by the old pyramids, a museum so new, I might add, that it's not in my guidebook. Inside, I am introduced to the history of the Moche people and shown select artifacts from their culture. It's all very interesting without being information overload. You don't get to the point of, oh...look...another case of arrowheads...yawn. I find the ceramics the most interesting. The Moche made small containers in the shape of all sorts of animals and they are so well preserved that I have a hard time at first believing that they are originals. Additionally, the museum does an excellent job of showing how assorted artifacts were made, making them more interesting than just a bunch of old stuff in cases.Outside, I head over to the tombs where everything was found. Just holes in the ground, really, but the main tombs have been outfitted with replicas to show how they looked when discovered. In the most impressive tomb, the "Lord of Sipan" was found in a wooden coffin surrounded by worldly goods to help him in the next life, as well as three young women and a boy. Placed slightly above the tomb was a guard with his feet cut off to protect the inhabitants from bandits. All in all, close to twenty tombs have been found and as work is on-going, you can wander around and look at both what has been excavated and current projects.From the Sipan site, I get in my hired taxi and head for the town of Lambayeque and the first Sipan museum. The burial mounds are 30 km southeast of Chiclayo and Lambayeque is 10 km northwest. My bus arrived too late for me to get on the day's tours (if there were any, Chiclayo is refreshingly free of tourists) and public transit to the sites is sparse and purportedly dangerous, as is wandering the sites alone. Add to this that I had no where to store my bag for the day and hiring a registered taxi for $35 (there goes my budget) makes a lot of sense.Now's as good a time as any to talk about safety in Peru, described by Lonely Planet as "one of the most dangerous countries in South America" (notice how I'm doing this just before I leave?) In addition to opportunistic robberies, the country's buses are plagued by hijackings, particularly on overnight routes. Additionally, taxis sometimes kidnap tourists, taking them to deserted ATMs and making them withdraw cash. But, the country is working towards safety, starting with a real push to get people to wear seat belts - a first for developing countries I've travelled in. Additionally, there are armed guards and police everywhere, as well as more high tech measures. Arequipa had the most of it. The town was filled with papers with tips for tourist safety and getting into a taxi from the from the bus station, I was surprised to find myself being videotaped by a policewoman. She asked for my name and where I was going before videoing the taxi driver and his credentials. This was not done for all Arequipa taxis, but a taxi carrying a lone gringa at night (8pm) clearly seems a good target for heightened security. I was also often videoed (along with other passengers) getting onto buses, and I could never buy a ticket without my name and passport number. If I went missing, the government could quickly track down at least the last town I had been in.But there remain problems. Arriving in Lima at 7 pm, I proceeded to walk 200 ft from the bus terminal to buy a hamburger and was warned by several people to not go walking about by myself. Later, while walking an extra 500 ft to a busy bus stop, I had a friendly woman worrying up one side and down the other for me. She asked if I was scared, suggesting I should be, and I was a little, but the registered taxi drivers at the station seemed to think I'd be ok on a bus to the airport at 7 pm, and it turns out I was. I'll say this, though, it makes me glad that though I've been through Lima three times, I've never stayed there for more than a few hours.But back to the story...the Museo Tumbas Reales de Sipan is four times the size of the Museo de Sitio and packed with cool stuff. I stumbled through more Spanish explanations (it's exhausting reading all that information in a foreign language) and appreciated the artifacts: gold, and lots of it. Now we're talking. I had been disappointed in Cuzco at the lack of Inca gold on display. You hear so much about it, and the Spanish couldn't have made off with all the treasure, right? But the Moche make up for the Inca. They musth ave alloyed their gold with copper, because when it was found, it was all green, but it has since been restored to sparkling splendour. I especially enjoyed the large necklaces on display, ten balls of gold shaped into human heads, an octopus necklace with legs spiraling off, a necklace of gold and silver peanuts. Many of these were shown next to photographs of the site where they were found, and it was amazing to see the extent of the restoration work performed. Additionally, there were enormous, intricate gold and turquoise earrings with deer, ducks or the Lord of Sipan on them, and large collars constructed of tiny pieces of spondylus seashell.The museum kept me occupied for several hours and then it was onto my next destination: the city of Trujillo. I arrived in the dark on a Friday night, without a hotel reservation. I don't like doing that (just like I don't like when the book say it's a two hour bus ride and it's actually four) I found a friendly middle-aged taxi driver (endorsed by a female attendant) and asked him to find me a hotel. We had to try several, but finally found one with a room, though I balked at the $20 price. I haven't paid more than $10 since...well...since I was in Africa. But it was a nice room and it was safe (several good people of Chiclayo had been concerned that I would travel in Trujillo alone) and I reminded myself that when I start paying rent in Edmonton, it will be significantly more than $20 a night.So what does $20 a night get you in Trujillo? Well, I was a block and a half from the Plaza de Armas, I had a TV with 60+ channels (some in English), tile floors in the bathroom, and no ants (which had been a problem in Huacacina). Unfortunately, $20 a night will not get you a truly hot shower in a Peruvian city of 800,000. That'll have to wait for Washington, DC.I moved quickly in Trujillo and within an hour of arriving, had a hotel, a tour booked for the next day, and dinner in front of me. In the morning, I lazed about my hotel room and mozied out to meet my tour at 11. I had thought to visit Trujillo's archaeological sites on my own, but again with the safety thing. When I found out that for $8, I could get transport to five sites and a guide for a full day, my mind was made up.The tour was a Spanish affair (it's been three days since I spoke to anyone in English) with visitors from Lima, Piura (in the north), and Argentina. There was one girl from France. We pretended we didn't speak each other's languages and conversed en Espanol.Our first stop were the Huacas del Sol y de la Luna, more Moche pyramid-temples. The Huaca del Sol is the largest single Pre-Columbian structure in Peru, but like the Sipan mounds, it has melted away with time and now resembles a muddy hill. The Huaca de la Luna, however, has had extensive excavation work done, revealing centuries-old paintings that used to adorn the temple. Figures of Moche gods as well as various sea creatures are carved into the walls and painted in bold colors. There's something about old paintings that impresses me (Egyptian tombs had a similar effect two years ago when I discovered they had been painted) and I can easily imagine how imposing the temple must have looked thirteen-hundred years ago.In the afternoon, we visit Huaca Iris, a smaller temple much more thoroughly restored with more paintings, but this time, only hints of color. Huaca de la Luna actually went through several phases and remodelings during its use, meaning old paintings were plastered over, better enabling them to survive until today.On the drive from Iris to Chan Chan, the three year-old on our tour decides she wants to sit with me and plops down and starts asking questions. First, she proudly declares "Vivo en Lima!" I live in Lima, and then starts with "Porque tienes pelo amarillo?" in a whiny voice. "Why do you have yellow hair?" I reply, "Por que mi madre tiene pelo amarillo." Because my mother has yellow hair. Not good enough. She asks again. I turn the question around. "Porque tienes pelo negro?" Why do you have black hair? She doesn't think she needs to answer and moved onto my eyes, why are they celeste? (light blue) Because God made them that way (neither of my parents have blue eyes and lying to a child seems in poor taste) She seems to accept this and moves on to prattle about other things. I try to ignore the fact that this three-year-old can talk Spanish circles around me.With the ruins of Chan Chan, the largest adobe city in the world, we move forward several hundred years to the Chimu people. The Moche people, as with most Pacific coast civilizations were victims of dramatic El Nino cycles, which caused torrential rainfalls in their normally desert climate and the ultimate collapse of their empire as their mud cities became water-logged and their crops failed. The Chimu people rose in the Moche's place and were then victims of El Nino themselves several hundred years later and were conquered by the Inca. Their capital was once covered in glittering gold and towering temples, but all that this gone now (the Spanish being especially thorough in search of treasure) and the remains of the city, millions of mud bricks, are slowly melting back into the sand.That is, of course, with the exception of the Tschundi Complex, which has been extensively restored and redone, to the point of seeming a little fake in places for all its perfection. We visit this enormous section of the town after a whirl through the mediocre Museo de Sitio. Large squares and plazas are adorned with geometric patters, simpler than the Moche but still imposing.From Chan Chan, we make a token visit to the beach town of Huanchaco. In the low season, it looks like a great place to chill for a few days, if only I had more time! I wander along the shore, ignore the vendors and their tacky souvenirs, and instead look out at the surfers floating in the water. I decide that surfers waiting for waves are a lot like snowboarders at the top of a half-pipe, many people sitting around and very few doing anything actually worth watching.Back in Trujillo, I spend my last night vegging in front of my spiffy television. I am tired. In the morning, I head for Lima and then on to the US and the end of my international travels.
]]> Lines, Dunes, and Guano — Huacachina, Peru http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kally563/7/1249603205/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kally563/7/1249603205/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kally563/7/1249603205/tpod.html Thu, 06 Aug 2009 20:18:08 -0400 Finding More Places to Stick Out
Huacachina, Peru

A long time ago in the country that would become Perú lived a people called the Nazca with amazing powers of seeing the future. They could see that Perú would one day become a major tourist destination with highlights in Cuzco, Puno, and Arequipa. But, they thought, there will be nothing of interest along the coast! So they went into the desert and began removing stones in the patterns of animals, revealing the different-coloured earth beneath them and creating lines to be named after their civilization. Or at least this is my theory, as no one really knows why the Nazca lines exist.

What people who are given to studying these things have figured out is that the lines, over 1200 of them covering 500 square kilometers, were constructed between 100 and 900 AD. What thousands of tourists have figured out is that the lines make a pretty convenient stop over between Arequipa and Lima.

So I get off the bus and let a tout take me to the airport and sign me up for an overflight, as the lines can only be properly appreicated from the air (another mystery, as it seems unlikely the Nazca knew how to fly). At the airport, there's a short wait as it has become too windy to fly, but soon enough, we are in the air. Our plane holds six people and I have been assigned co-pilot! Fortunately for the others on board, they have removed my controls and I won't be required to do anything.

We take off and head for the first line of interest. Our affable pilot Manuelo puts the plane into a steep bank and shouts into our headsets "there's the whale, under the right wing!" I look, but the desert is crossed with tracks and I can't make a whale out of any of them. Lines made by cars in the 1920s still appear on the desert floor as it is so dry here. Then, I see it, clear as a day, a whale, but it's smaller than I thought.  try to take a picture, of course, but in the bright sunshine, it's anyone's guess if it will turn out. Then, the plane is banking again, pulling into a tigh counter-clockwise circle so those on the left side can see the whale.

We continue this for half an hour, looking at the astronaut, the monkey, the spider, the condor, the hummingbird, and many others. Manuelo is great at pointing out the lines (in English for me and two Belgians and in Japanese for two passengers in the back) and in spite of the perpetual banking one way and then another, I don't get sick. Soon enough, we are landing and I takxi back to town and head for Huacacina. The overflight was not cheap at $60, but to me, it was definitely worth it.

In the middle of the coastal desert surrounded by colossal dunes is a brown, murky lagoon, and on this lagoon is the backpackers' paradise of Huacacina - if only I went in for such Eden's. The town is little more than hostels, restaurants, and bars, and the party goes 'til six in the morning. I know, because I woke up at six and took out my earplugs only to discover the hostel bar was still playing music and going strong.

But it's a good place to chill for a couple days. I go for several hikes up the towering dunes, and they are indeed hikes. Climbing in sand is hard work! Your feet slip back and sink with each step you take and then you have to drag them out to keep going. I wonder if sand shoes could be effective like snow shoes. At the top of the dunes, of course, you have wonderful views, and then comes the best part: running back down. The dunes are steep and each step forward takes you several down, and with each step, you sink into the sand, creating a bouncing sensation. I run, bounce, and leap my way down the dunes in a zig-zag pattern, laughing all the way and collapsing in an out of breath heap at the bottom. Next step, a shower and seeral hours spent trying to get the sand out of my ears.

In the morning, I am up early for my trip to the Islas Ballestas. The last few days, I have been following Perú's gringo trail to the letter adn this is the last stop before Lima. I sleep on the ride to Paracas and then duck down as the boat speeds its way to the islands. My camera has consumed too much sand in Huacacina adn is no longer working, so I try to fix it, but with no success. I'll just have to remember everything I do today.

The boat slows as we approach the islands, countless seabirds soaring overhead. I'm glad I have a hat as a direct hit of guano seems likely. The government actually collects these droppings every few years and sells them as fertilizer. Until the 1960s, guano was actually Peru's biggest export. The birds include Peruvian boobies and commorants, red legged commorants, and guano commorants. Hiding on the rocks among the fly birds are penguins, and the real reason I came to the islands. Humboldt's penguins, the only penguins found in Perú, are tiny and incredibly cute as they waddle about, crawl up rocks, and shake water off their feathers. They easily steal the show until we round a corner and come across sea lions lazing out of the water on this overcast day.

Sea lions trying to climb rocks have got to be some o the most awkward sights in the world. Their flippers can't really grip anything, so they just wriggle about until they get somewhere. Later, we see a fur seal (I think. The loud speaker wasn't always that easy to hear) only the second our guide has seen in ten years of leading these tours. Pretty cool, but soon, we are turning around and heading back to shore for breakfast. The tour will return to Huacacina, but I am going north of the capital for my last three days in country. Stay tuned.
]]> The White City — Arequipa, Peru http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kally563/7/1249602197/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kally563/7/1249602197/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kally563/7/1249602197/tpod.html Thu, 06 Aug 2009 19:59:24 -0400 Finding More Places to Stick Out
Arequipa, Peru

Arequipa, Perú's white city, got rave reviews from two weeks of travellers at Pachamama, so I was really looking forward to visiting. Unfortunately, it failed to charm me, and I didn't spend much time there. Perhaps it was too much of a city for me. Too much hustle and bustle, too difficult to cross the street in the flood of taxis jostling for position. Perhaps I had just been in the country for too long. Or maybe it's just that it's difficult to keep a "white city" clean. Anyway you look at it, to me, Arequipa was no Cuzco, no Quito, and no Cuenca, and I only stayed for a day.

But it was a busy day. Drop the laundry off in the morning (I've gotten far too lazy to do it by hand) and hit up a travel agent to organize the remainder of my trip. I had thought to go white-water rafting on the nearby Rio Chili, but all the work for only half an hour on the river didn't seem worth it. Instead, I just bought a bus ticket out of town. Pack up the hostel room, grab a chicken sandwich for lunch, avoid touts selling city bus tours, and hit up Arequipa's premier attraction, the Monastery Santa Catalina.

The monastery (or convent, really) dates back nearly to the start of the city and occupies over 5 acres. It was founded by a wealthy widow who admitted only select Spanish ladies to her life of penanace and reflection. Rather than strictly adhere to their vows of poverty, however, the ladies typically had one to four servants or slaves adn would host frequent parties adn social gatherings - not a bad life for the unwanted daughter of a wealthy Spaniard. Of course, the fete couldn't last forever, and reforms were instituted in 1686 limiting the nuns to one servant or slave a piece. What trials!


In 1871, however, the Vatican really and truly cracked down, releasing all servants and slaves, confining the nuns to the convent, and implementing a communal kitchen and dormitory. The convent continues to operate today with about three dozen nuns cloistered in an area closed to tourists.


Because the convent, which is 430 years old, was perpetually under construction, it offers an excellent example of different architectural periods, and apparently merits an $11 entrance fee, unspeakably expensive for Perú. If Lonely Planet hadn't assured me it was a site not to be missed, I would have given it a pass.


Inside, the convent is immaculate with walls painted in bold red or blue. It is labyrinthine to wander, so the map and walking tour provided is appreciated. I start in the "parlours" where the nuns could sit behind lazy susans adn pass goods to the outside world or receive goods without being seen. Near here are the novice's cells, clustered around a beautiful courtyard. I had always considered a cell to be a small, bare room with a bed and maybe a table. These rooms, however, are huge (gotta have space for those servants) with many furnishings.


I am impressed until I get to the full-fledged nuns' cells. These are apartments! A bedroom, a sitting room, a kitchen, and sometimes a toilet. Each apartment is different and I can only imagine the social and political manouevering that must have gone on to secure the best rooms. I feel like convents, in spite of the whole reflective religion thing, must be incredibly catty places, especially when the nuns are made up of formerly wealthy daughters with a tendancy towards being spoiled.


From the cloisters, there is a bathing area, a clothes washing area, several chapels, and a gallery of religious paintings. I have never liked religious paintings. I don't care if they're the Quito school, the Cuzco school, or the Calvin and Hobbes school. The infant Christ always looks like a miniature human instead of a baby, with an expression on his face that just freaks me out. So I skip the art gallery and sit by a sunny fountain in one of the courtyards and watch goldfish swim about.


By this time, of course, I am feeling hungry. Fortunately, Arequipa has a grand selection of chocolate cakes at little shops on the main square, so I have a slice of one. It is delicious. However, the cigarette smoke from neighboring tables is less enticing. What is with Europeans? I can't wait to get away from their dirty habits. (and yes, that's incredibly stereotypical, but it's almost always Europeans. Peruvians don't smoke). Then, pick up the bus ticket, pick up the laundry, get some money from the ATM, and enjoy Happy Hour with some randomly met friends from Cabanaconde. The Pisco sour isn't as good as Lui's, but it's cheaper! Share a taxi to the bus station, two hours of internet, four pieces of bread for 1 sole, get security checked for weapons and alcohol, and board the bus to Nazca. Wonder that they're showing an old Clarke Gable film, put in ear plugs, recline seat, curl up under blanket, go to sleep.


]]> Into the Canyon — Cabanaconde, Arequipa, Peru http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kally563/7/1249600657/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kally563/7/1249600657/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kally563/7/1249600657/tpod.html Thu, 06 Aug 2009 19:44:11 -0400 Finding More Places to Stick Out
Cabanaconde, Arequipa, Peru

No time in Cabanaconde would be complete without a few condors and a proper hike into the canyon, and being one to save the best for last (or a procrastinator, depending on how you look at it) I did both of these at the end. July 31st was my birthday and in celebration, the hostel crew schlepped otu to Mirador Tapay to see some condors in action. The most famous look out is Cruz del Condor, but they charge 35 soles or about $13 admission, which seems a bit steep to stand on the edge of a cliff. Mirador Tapay is basically the same thing but for free and closer to Cabanaconde.

Andean condors, the largest flying birds in the world with wingspans of up to 3m, live in Colca Canyon's cliffs, inaccessible by land and safe from predators. In the mornings, they ride warm air currents up to the top of the canyon, creating a spectacle for tourists from around the world. To see the condors, in a nice change for wildlife viewings, you do not have to get up early. Although invariably there are tourists staked out at miradors at 5:30 am, the air doesn't get warm enough for the condors to ride up until between 9 and 10.

So the master plan was to stay up late playing poker Thursday night (Liv won, though all she got were corn kernels) and catch the 9 am bus out to see condors...except that the bus was full and wouldn't stop for us when we tried to flag it down, so we had to wait for the 10-o-clock bus and probably missed the best of the show. No matter. The scenery was spectacular, the day was sunny, and we managed to see one lazy condor working his way up the cliff. Even better, we flagged a bus back into town and saved an hour and a half hike on dusty roads.

In the afternoon, we went on another short hike along the canyon edge and saw quite a few more condors returning from their day's activities. One soared around us for a good fifteen minutes, the three of us taking pictures like fools. I had to remind myself to look out from behind my camera, too, and just appreciate the bird in front of me. They're pretty magnificent.

The next day, I had planned to begin a three-day hike across the canyon, but after the Oasis, my knee had been giving me trouble and I wasn't sure it was up to such an ambitious itinerary. At the same time, Live was doing a one-night trip to Llahaur, which she claimed to be the most beautiful part of the canyon. I decided to tag along.




The day was wonderfully overcast when we started off around 1 in the afternoon (Liv is really not a morning person) which darn near drove me nuts, sitting around in a hammock waiting for her to be ready to go. We hiked along the canyon ridge for a while before beginning our descent to another trail about a third of the way to the bottom. Liv can be forgiven for starting treks late because when she hikes, she moves. Flats are taken at a brisk walk and on the downhills, we run. It's much easier on the knees and faster, so long as you slow down for the switchbacks. About an hour into the hike, we start overtaking people who left Cabanaconde quite a bit before us, and in the end, we do the five hour hike in three and a half, including a long break in the middle.

The first downhill goes well, but after a short, flat walk, we begin the second descent all the way to the bottom, and here, there are too many stones and we cannot run. It's a long way down, but soon, my knee starts hurting. I do everything I can think of favor it (looking ridiculous in the process) but you can't just hike down on one leg, and I don't have trekking poles. If this is part of getting older, I don't like it. But I have no choice, so I continue hobbling along, gasping every now and then when I put my weight on my leg wrong. At least the pain in my knee distracts me from the blisters on feet, which I will later find are just awful, too.

I am nearly in tears by the time we reach the bottom, but at least, we can take a break (the trail going down is really too narrow to stop anywhere). We sit on the bridge for a full 45 minutes, enjoying the sun and eating snacks, before hiking the last little bit to Llahuar (mostly up or flat, ok for my knee).

In Llahuar, which is raelly just two guesthouses on the river, we stay with Virginia in her beautiful garden home. It is warm and bright, pink flowers blooming everywhere. A dog, a cat, and a few chickens wander about the place and two turtle doves roost in the trees. Virginia arranges for us to use a nearby hot springs, and we sit in the warm water as the sun sets and the stars come out. Before long, I'm getting hungry, so we wander back for a wonderful dinner of rich vegetable soup and fresh trout, caught by Virginia's sons that afternoon. Later, a campfire is built and one son performs traditional songs on a little flute. Soon enough, I crash into bed and a solid sleep. What a wonderful retreat at the bottom of the canyon!

In the morning, we are up at 7 for a breakfast of pancakes before hiking an hour and a bit to Soro. Virginia's son leads us along the river, over rocks, and through fields of prickly pear cactus. In Soro, which is more of a place than a town, we wait for the 10 am supply truck to take us back to Cabanaconde. The truck arrives mostly on time and unloads its supplies (bottled water, Coca-Cola, beer - these are clearly for the tourists) before loading on passengers for the return journey. It is a bumpy 2-hour ride along dusty switchbacks, stopping now and then to add more passengers. Normally, the truck comes twice a week, but this Sunday trip is extra so there are fewer passengers.

Finally, we arrive back in Cabanaconde with just enough time for a quick shower, lunch, and an ice cream before heading to Arequipa.


]]> Gurus — Cabanaconde, Arequipa, Peru http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kally563/7/1249350224/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kally563/7/1249350224/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kally563/7/1249350224/tpod.html Thu, 06 Aug 2009 19:42:36 -0400 Finding More Places to Stick Out
Cabanaconde, Arequipa, Peru

So at the end of a year of backpacking (over the course of two years) it has finally happened - the traveller has become the host. I have taken a job at a hostel. It happened unexpectedly over dinner two nights ago. My gringa waitress was leaving in the morning for Bolivia for two weeks and seeing that the restaurant/bar was hopping, I got to thinking...I wasn't exactly relishing the idea of three weeks on the road alone, and I was pretty frustrated with high season travel in South America. You really can't escape the tourists. Cabananconde is far enough off "the track" to have reduced numbers of tourists, and the hostel owners were really friendly. I put my proposal to one of the owners, figuring if she said no, I'd continue my trip as planned, what did I have to lose? But they decided they could use some tri-lingual (and German in a pinch) help with table waiting, and here I am for two weeks, hopefully getting to see a bit more of "real" Peru.

Cabanaconde is a village of 1300 right on Colca Canyon and I am working at the Pachamama Hostel. I like to think it's the nicest budget place in town, but I haven't checked out the others yet, and I might be a little biased. Regardless, to me, it's everything a hostel should be: good common areas for meeing people, hammocks (a must in South America), fair prices, colorful interiors, a good restaurant and bar on site, and friendly staff, myself included. I worked at Applebees, remember? I know how to lay on the perky.

The hostel is owned and run by a pair of Peruvian brothers and the Belgian girlfriend of one of the brothers, Liv. Together, they speak Spanish, Quechua, English, French, Flemish, Dutch, Italian, and some German. This is an asset as in this town, it is necessary to meet the four daily buses and try to convince tourists to stay at one hostel over another. There is tight competition among the places in town, and if one does something, most of the others follow suit. One hostel even sends an employee two hours to the town of Chivay everyday to bring the 2 pm bus back and convince its tourists to stay at their hostel during the ride. But when buses arrive, our hostel has the advantage because Liv in particular can match the language of just about anyone getting off.

As for me, I tidy the restaurant in the mornings, wait tables sometimes in the afternoon and always at night, and in exchange, get room and board. When I'm not working, I hang out with other travelers or the staff or wander the town and countryside, absorbing scenery and hoping to see the condors the area is famous for.

]]> Reviews — Cabanaconde, Arequipa, Peru http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kally563/7/1249350780/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kally563/7/1249350780/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kally563/7/1249350780/tpod.html Thu, 06 Aug 2009 19:42:03 -0400 Finding More Places to Stick Out
Cabanaconde, Arequipa, Peru

And now, my time in Cabanaconde is coming to an end. What have I done? What have I learned? Well, I have learned that I am no good at volleyball, after several friendly games in town. My team typically did well, in spite of my abysmal efforts, but it's not not my calling, even though I'm quite tall compared to many Peruvians. I have also read eight Shakespearean comedies (I find him much more palatable than I did in high schools - perhaps because I just skim the profound speeches about life, death, and love) and I have improved my French, though I can't escape my Quebec accent. I have learned to make Pisco Sours and Cuba Libres, and gained a new appreciation for the effort behind fresh fruit juices.

I have been perpetually frustrated by life in a small town of "no hay." No hay means "there is not" and though we have a menu, we frequently lack certain items on it because they simply don't exist in Cabanaconde at the moment. Frequently, there is no bread for sandwiches and no pesto for spaghetti. One time, the Coca-Cola truck didn't come, so we had no sodas, and since I have been here, there has been no salami or anchovies for pizza. "We don't have/Nous n'avons pas/No tenemos/Wir haben nicht" is a common refrain of mine as I explain to tourists why they can't have what they ordered.

Additionally, I have become an excellent errand girl, running out to get candles, coca, eggs, tea, napkins, or rum in the middle of the dinner rush. Inventory is not our forte. The upside to this is that the man who runs the tienda across the street knows me now and doesn't try to rip me off any more.

I have also gained a new appreciation for fresh food. Each afternoon, our cook takes some money and wanders the shops in town to buy ingredients for dinner. At 5:00, the vegetables and meat are cut and refrigerated. The soup is made from scratch (at Applebees, the soup arrives frozen in bags) and the spaghetti sauce is prepared. The pizza dough is made in advance, but the crusts are cooked throughout the evening. All this means the food may take a while to arrive, but it will be hot, fresh, and good when it gets to your table.

During my time here, I have waited on people from around the world, but I still can't quite figure out how Europeans want to be treated at table. In North America, the waitstaff is part of the dining experience, checking back from time to time to make sure everything's ok. I get the impression that Europeans would rather be left alone - but then how do you know if they want something?? They'll signal, right? So I try to be available for signals, or make it easy for them to catch my eye, but they never do. Then, the second I turn my back, they shout that they'd like some salt. I don't get it. And the split second it takes me to settle on a language and think of something to say just creates an awkward silence. But at least I'm not working for tips.

After unerringly leaving 10% everywhere I went with Gautam, I have discovered that we were definitely the exception to the rule. Here, I can go all night, 10-12 tables without any tips, and it's not because the service is bad. Tourists with a bill of 58 soles will give me sixty and then wait five minutes while I search my, Liv's, Luis', and cooks' pockets for their 70 cents of change. I'm not complaining really, because I definitely didn't take this job for the money, it's just interesting.

But outside of work, what have I been up to? Well, the scenery here is absolutely gorgeous. From the roof where I hang my laundry to dry in the afternoon sun, the mountains are so beautiful I did a little video of just them. The skies are generally wonderfully clear and sunny, but after the occasional rains, the views get even better as there will be fresh snow on the mountains.

After the worst day of rain, I hiked down into the canyon with Liv and two visiting friends from Belgium. Our destination was Sangalle, cleverly marketed to tourists as "the Oasis." It sits at the very bottom of the canyon, more than 1000 m below Cabanaconde. We descended for an hour and a half through switchbacks on a well-marked trail. One of the myths perpetuated by Arequipa-based tour operators is that you need a guide to hike in the canyon. You really don't. The trails are clear and there are people to question should you get lost. Pachamama sends people into the canyon every day and they all come back all right, and yet 80% of travelers trek in the canyon on guided tours.

But anyway, we descended to the oasis, watching it slowly draw closer and increasingly dreading the hike back up. At the bottom, we removed our shoes to check out the damage to our feet (my blisters from Ecuador had finally popped and rubbed off, leaving me with fresh, pink heels) and went for a swim in one of the many pools. It was a little cool, but as long as you kept moving, refreshing. But then we had to hike up.

I was convinced I was going to have to cave and hire a mule to carry me, but I thought I'd give it a try on foot first. I decided to follow Liv (I'm terrible at setting paces) and slowly, we worked our way up the mountain. Mules passed us as the Oasis shrank from view, bit by bit, and still we kept going. When Liv used to do this hike three times a week, she could make it up in an hour and a half. The average tourist takes three to four hours.

I had expected the hike to be pure misery and so was surprised when Liv announced we were half way to the top. Great! I thought. I can do this! But the trail was cruel and the second half was littered with boulders you had to step over and in addition to being already tired from the first chunk of climbing, the air was getting thinner. It was tough going, but eventually there was no more up to go and we were at the top! Our time? Two hours and twenty minutes, quite impressive all things considered...which meant that I had just enough time to shower before lighting candles, squeezing lemons, and waiting tables for five hours. Boy did I sleep well that night.

]]> The Incan Empire — Cusco, Peru http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kally563/7/1248032773/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kally563/7/1248032773/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kally563/7/1248032773/tpod.html Sun, 19 Jul 2009 16:17:43 -0400 Finding More Places to Stick Out
Cusco, Peru

Cuzco is indubitably the tourist capital of Peru (and perhaps all of South America) and having traveled through the country twice now, it was finally time to go. Cuzco was the capital of the Inca Empire and later, a Spanish colonial city. Today, the old town is wonderful to wander (though G prefers Cuenca and I prefer Quito) with beautiful stone and white buildings and brilliantly sunny plazas. Of course, the downside of being in Cuzco are the touts. As I walk down the street, everyone offers me massages, manicures, and pedicures. Each restaurant, and there are many, has a salesman outside with a menu asking if you want to eat. There are wonderful benches in the plazas, but if you sit on them, you will have tot ell someone "no gracias" every minute as they try to sell you hats, finger puppets, and paintings. I had forgotten how annoying touts are! But it's quite lovely nonetheless, and G and I spend a day exploring in between running those errands that creep up on you when you travel.Our second day in Cuzco, G's mother and brother arrive from Canada. They will be traveling with him for ten days before they all fly home, and I will be around for bits and pieces of their trip. Having traveled all day Wednesday and rising early Thursday to fly from Lima to Cuzco as six, I am impressed when after breakfast, they are ready to see the city. We wander slowly, they are not used to the 11,000 ft elevation, and enjoy another sunny day.In the afternoon, while his family retires to rest, G and I hit up a few museums. The Museo Inka has quite a  few artifacts, but they are poorly displayed and almost all explanations are in Spanish. Much better is Qorinkancha, once the site of the richest temple in the Inca empire and later, a Spanish church. Inside is an odd mixture of Inca walls and Spanish church with religious paintings. We latch onto various tour groups (they're everywhere!) to learn that the amazingly well-fit walls are held together as jig-saw puzzles. Some stones have portions protruding and some have holes missing so that when you stack them all together, they hold. The church has been destroyed twice by earthquakes (Cuzco is full of signs telling you where to stand in case of such disasters) but the Inca walls remain standing.Cuzco's perennial popularity, of course, is a result of its proximity to South America's premier tourist attraction: Machu Picchu, and the next morning, we begin our trip to the Lost City of the Incas. Machu Picchu is not particularly easy to get to. You can hike for four days along the Inca Trail (a trip which sells out at least three months in advance) or you can take the train, which is highly overpriced because PeruRail has a monopoly on the line and also sells out in advance, as we found out. G and I knew when we wanted to go to Machu Picchu, but it's difficult to buy tickets if you're not in the country, and when we finally got to Peru a week before we wanted to go, the trains were sold out for all four days his family possible had in Cuzco. Bloody package tours. Which is the other problem. Machu Picchu is such a pain to get to that you almost have to do it on a tour. It really doesn't need to be that difficult.Fortunately, a new option has opened for unorganized backpackers. In the last year, a road has been opened, making it possible to drive almost all the way to the base of the mountain, and left with no other options, we book a tour for this route. And thus began the worst fiasco in a year of backpacking. DO NOT travel with Reserv Cusco Ltda and if possible, avoid all the 2D/1N Machu Picchu trips, too. Take the train.The tour starts late. We are supposed to be picked up at 7:40. The driver comes at 8:15. We were told the tour would be 8 or 9 people. By the time we finally leave Cuzco at 9:15, we are 14. In Ollaytaytambo, where we are supposed to have a twenty minute break, the driver asks if anyone needs a bathroom (we think he'll point us in the right direction) and when no one does, we just keep going. We skip a break at the top of Aba Malaga pass at 4300 m (the scenery is gorgeous - snow capped mountains and plunging valleys) and continue straight to Santa Teresa for lunch at 3:00. Protests are futile and the last two and a half hours are on dirt road, some of it the most dangerous Andean road I have been on. It is barely wide enough for one car, let alone two the few times we meet on-coming traffic. By lunch, we have been in the mercilessly uncomfortable van for seven hours. My legs barely unbend. Such things might be accepted on local buses, but when you pay over $100 for a tour and get an itinerary in writing, you expect more.At lunch, members of our van fluent in Spanish complain to the company's representative who has been in another van. He threatens to abandon them in Santa Teresa if they don't shut up. At least the lunch is good.From Santa Teresa, it is another bumpy 40 minutes to a train which, after some confusion, takes us to Aguas Calientes at the base of Machu Picchu. In Aguas Calientes, however, the tour agency has dropped the ball on making hotel reservations (really, how difficult can it be?) and so, we spend an hour and a half wandering around with yet another guide (who is actually quite nice) trying to find a place to sleep.Our inefficient arrival in Aguas Calientes means dinner is pushed back to 8, which becomes 8:30 after an unexpected fiesta in the main square. the last three days have been the celebration of the Virgen del Carmen. No one can tell me her story, but the festival involves poor marching bands (Sousa would have been loved in Peru) and people dressed in crazy costumes. Many of the men have long, knobby noses attached to their faces or masks with leaves stuck about them. The women wear boldly colored dresses and together, the parades stagger drunkenly through town. I think the parade is supposed to involve a certain amount of dancing forward and then dancing backward, and the beers everyone is holding only help make the scene more chaotic.Each parade is 20 to 30 people and now, they are all pouring into the square in a frenzy. They dance around clock-wise, dragging unsuspecting tourists into their midst. I nearly run off with a particularly fetching black-masked man when G isn't looking. The party is still gong half an hour later when our group finally finds itself (we had agreed to meet from our respective hotels in the square) and heads for dinner. The food is good, but it doesn't arrive until 9:30, and it's after 10 by the time we wearily traipse back to our hotel. Tomorrow's wake up time? 4:15.Machu Picchu is a test of endurance, that's all there is to it. You have to beat the crowds, so you have to be on the first bus to the ruins (or you can climb 1200 ft straight up starting at 3:30 am) and even if we didn't care about crowds, we have to leave the site by 11 to go back to Cuzco (even though the tour itinerary said we'd have until 12:30) so we need to make the most of our time there.By 4:30, we are in line. G and I are waiting to board the buses (which don't start running for another hour) while his mom and brother wait in a separate line to buy the tickets. They will join us later. Machu Picchu buses are numbered and we make it onto bus 11. At 30 people per bus, this means 300 people are head of us, plus the early morning climbers. Only 2500 people are allowed to visit Machu Picchu each day and the bus line stretches interminably behind us. So much for beating the crowds.Watching the sky lighten and the mountains appear out of the darkness as we climb is spectacular and we arrive just before the gates open at 6. Of course, the 300 people are still in front of us, so it's a while before we're actually on the mountain.Once inside, a mad dash ensues to the far corner of the site for tickets to Wayna Picchu, the mountain rising behind the ruins. Only 400 people are allowed to climb each day. The competition never ends! But we only have five hours at the ruins anyway, and I'm not going to spend two of them climbing and descending a mountain. I'll just look at pictures.Our guided tour starts at 6:50, but not being one to stand around listening to someone talk, I wander off on my own. G will fill me in on the highlights later. The ruins are impressive, though their effect is dulled somewhat by the many pictures I have seen. I admire the intricate stonework, the remains of houses and temples, the insane terracing that looks like a ridiculous amount of work for a tiny amount of farmland. No one really knows what Machu Picchu was used for, though they know it had religious significance from the temples. It had been under construction for 80 years when the Spanish arrived, but then it was abandoned, incomplete. It remained unknown to the outside world until being rediscovered only in 1911.The tour finished and G's family and I climb some terraces on one side of the ruins to get some good aerial views.Question: How many pictures of Machu Picchu can you take?Answer: 63.Really, I thought I had taken more, though I do have the same aerial photo about fifteen times. G and I hike out to an old Inca bridge in the jungle, which kind of makes me wish I had done the Inca trail, and then its time to start the trip back to Cuzco.You'd think knowing what to expect would make the return trip more bearable. It doesn't. Not surprisingly, our hour-long lunch in Santa Teresa is canceling and instead, we are given an unnecessary bathroom break. Three hours later, our driver magnanimously gives us another five minute break and then it's straight to Cuzco, arriving at 9 pm. I hate the I have such trouble sleeping on transportation and somehow stumble through dinner and a deliciously hot shower before crashing into bed. Machu Picchu was great and I'm glad I went, but was all the hassle really necessary?
]]> Chillin' on the Lake — Copacabana, Bolivia http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kally563/7/1248030611/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kally563/7/1248030611/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kally563/7/1248030611/tpod.html Sun, 19 Jul 2009 15:46:11 -0400 Finding More Places to Stick Out
Copacabana, Bolivia

Puno is on Lake Titicaca, a really high, really big, and really beautiful body of water, and the reason we had spent so long on buses. Puno, however, is frankly a dump, but on the Bolivian side of the lake is the Isla del Sol, the Island of the Sun, and I love it there. I had spent one night on the island last year and convinced G that it was worth an eternity on buses to go back.From Puno, we catch a bus across the border and some quick footwork in the coastal town of Copacabana gets us on the afternoon ferry to the island. From the dock, it is a solid 45-minute hike uphill at 4000 m with packs to the ridge where we find a hotel overlooking the west side of the island - perfect for sunsets. We spend the afternoon soaking up the sun on our terrace, periodically going inside to put on more layers. Isla del Sol is wonderfully peaceful, with a decent number of tourists, but no party scene. I find it incredibly relaxing, but it is not warm. At 4000 m, it is quite possible for the temperature to drop below freezing at night - and the good people of Isla del Sol do not believe in heat.A search for warmth leads us and another couple to a pizzaria for supper. The big pizza oven keeps the place warm and it is great to have someone else to talk to after sitting next to G on buses for three days. I am finding that I much prefer having a travelling companion to going it alone, but I miss meeting other travellers the way you're forced to when there's no one but yourself to talk to. In South America, it's also quite affordable to stay in double rooms, so we've only spent one night in a dorm so far.Monday is hiking day. We get up after a night spent under excessive numbers of blankets and proceed to walk from the south end to the north end of the island. I had done this walk last year, and it really is beautiful, though at the end of the rainy seasons last year, it was a bit greener.After two hours (I have no idea how we walked so fast) of impressive terracing, small villages, and donkeys, we reach the Incan ruins on the north side. The ruins aren't particularly impressive, but we explore a little before sitting to rest and just soak up the sun. G has come up with an interesting experimento f tracking our resting heartrates at assorted altitudes. Here, mine is a ridiculous 96 beats per minute, compared with the high 60s at home.From the ruins, we have two options: we can wait an hour and a half for the ferry to the south side of the island, or we can just walk back. We opt for the latter. The way back is filled with hills that I swear weren't there when we set out, and we are almost, kinda-sorta sweaty by the time we return. Perfect timing for a shower.My time in the Andes has made me appreciate the bathing habits of Europeans in the Middle Ages. We have been blessed with some form of hot water everywhere we have stayed, but what is meant by hot water varies. Generally, we experience at least one of the following problems:1. The hot water is only a trickle.2. The hot water only lasts 2-3 minutes.3. The shower actually cycles somehow between hot and cold water.Now, I could deal with these challenges if I had a heated room to retreat to after my mediocre bathing experience, but when the room is 50 degrees at best, there's minimal incentive to even take of your clothes in the first place, let alone stand under an imaginary trickle of agua caliente. And don't even get me started on the trials and tribulations of washing hair at altitude. How do you get the shampoo out, and then how do you get it to dry without freezing to death first? It's impossible! See? This backpacking stuff ain't easy. Dreads and body odour are looking better and better by the day.But to get back to it, I manage to take a shower and then shivering like a fool, jump under four heavy Andean blankets to warm up before sitting out on the terrace to dry my hair in the sun. No sign of pneumonia yet.
]]> A Never-Ending Journey — Puno, Peru http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kally563/7/1247711296/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kally563/7/1247711296/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kally563/7/1247711296/tpod.html Wed, 15 Jul 2009 22:38:38 -0400 Finding More Places to Stick Out
Puno, Peru

From Puerto Lopez, we had a week before meeting G's family in Cuzco, Peru, but what to do with it? We had done everything we wanted in Ecuador and would be covering the highlights of southern Peru with his family. Nothing Lonely Planet said regarding northern Peru seemed particularly interesting, so somehow, we hatched a plan to make a mad dash to Bolivia.Now, Bolivia is no where near Puerto Lopez. Rough estimates put the distance between the two at 3200 km. At first, we weren't sure if some of this distance was to be covered by plane, but we couldn't figure out any more from Puerto Lopez, so we headed to Guayaquil at 7 am Thursday morning. Remember that time.In Guayquil, our plan had been to check with Ormeno (the prefered company for international bus travel in these parts) to see what time the bus left for Lima (Peru's bapital, about half-way down the coast) and then head to the airport to see what sort of a deal we could swing on flights. We showed up at Ormeno at 11:35. The daily bus to Lima left at 11:30. If we ran down the block, the ticket man assured us, we could catch it. We forgot about the planes and tore down the street, waving our arms frantically at the bus. It works, and soon, we were headed to Lima.Now, if you didn't read my blog last year, you might not understand the quality of long-haul bus travel in South America. The seats are comparable to having your own Lazy-Boy, reclining quite a ways and with hordes of footroom. TVs are dispersed through the bus with movies shown with English subtitles or even in English if there are enough gringoes on board. Three meals are served each day by the stewardess, who also comes by with drinks from time to time and blankets at night. The bus is a double-decker, equipped with quite acceptable men's and women's bathrooms, and rather than give just a few people the front picture window, a small seating area and table is placed at the front of the upper deck so anyone can watch the scenery go by.From Guayaquil, it is five hours to the border and we continue into northern Peru as the sun sets. In the morning, we are served breakfast and arrive in Lima around 2 pm. Hour 31. Km 1700.Somehow, flights are forgotten again and we sign up for the 4 pm bus to Puno, near the Bolivian border. We stop in Ica and Nazca as night falls and wake up just before Arequipa. Unfortunately, at this point, one of our rear tires blows and it's an hour to change it. Later in Arequipa, it becomes obvious that something is wrong with our radiator. So that's why the bus was so hot and climbed to 2500 m so slowly! Hour 52. Km 2600.Two hours to fix the radiator and we make tracks for Puno. The scenery is gorgeous, but I am getting cranky and just want to get there. We had hoped to cross into Bolivia Saturday night, but as the border closes at 7 pm and we don't arrive in Puno until 7:15, this plan is abandoned. We finally stumble off the bus at hour 60, km 3000.In Puno, we allow a lovely woman named Nancy to take us from the bus station. She hooks us up with a tour to Macchu Picchu (we kinda screwed that up, waiting so late to make plans) finds us a hotel for the night (at a discounted rate), and gets us bus tickets to Bolivia for the morning. It is all quite efficient and soon we are having a later dinner, a wonderful shower, and crashing into bed - three full days of travel since leaving Puerto Lopez. And I thought my flights to get to this continent were bad.
]]> Down to the Beach — Puerto Lopez, Ecuador http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kally563/7/1247677242/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kally563/7/1247677242/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kally563/7/1247677242/tpod.html Wed, 15 Jul 2009 22:28:07 -0400 Finding More Places to Stick Out
Puerto Lopez, Ecuador

Well, the Andes are nice and all, but after a while, they get cold, so we ehaded for the coast. The Reina del Camin tout assured us it would be a ten hour ride to Puerto Lopez. In the end, it was thriteen. Par for the course in South America. We had considered the night bus option, but Lonely Planet warned of twisting roads, steep descents, reckless drivers, and hijackings. G's two closest friends in Cuenca had both recently been on hijacked buses (they put up blockades, stop the bus, and relieve the passengers of their valuables, and then hopefully let the bus go on its way) so we decided on the day-time option.Coming out of Quito was a truly fantastic descent on a cross-strewn highway. We went down for 30 km through swtichbacks and along sheer cliffs. The scenery was gorgeous; watching other vehicles overtake each other on the two-lane road was harrowing. I am pleased to report that our driver seemed to have a good head on his shoulders and a healthy fear of plunging into the abyss, which kept us from ill-advised driving acrobatics and safe from oblivion.Unfortunately, the exciting descent could not last forever and the last ten hours of the trip seemed interminable. I read two books from cover to cover as the bus collected assorted passengers from the sides of countless roads and spent ten, twenty, or thirty minutes at makeshift bus stops for no apparent reason. I think I've had enough of inefficient local buses.Puerto Lopez is a beach town, but July is not the time to go to the beach in Ecaudor. The entire Pacific coast is blanketed in thick clouds and the temperature hovers in the low 70s. Fortunately, we hadn't come for the beach. The weather may be cool, but the water is warm, perfect for humpback whales. They gather in the coastal waters to mate before beginning a 3000 mile migration to Antarctica and better feeding grounds. It is the longest mammalian migration on Earth.The only way to see the whales is on a tour and so Wednesday morning, we set off, two intrepid travelers in a group of 80. Fortunately, each boat is limited to 16 people, so we all had good views as we searched the waters for a tell-tale fin. No such luck. As we motored for an hour towards the Isla del Plata, our second destination, the seas were calm.Finally, a humpback is sighted off the port side. We motor closer for a better look and see some dorsal fins, a tail fin, and a side fin before the whale swims off. Ok, I think, as we turn and head for the island, that was a whale, that's fair, if nothing phenomenal - but there was more.Approaching the island, we fin a trio of whales and manage to follow them for a goo 15 minutes. The back two mainly show their dorsal fins, but the front one puts on quite a show. He (I'm arbitrarily making him a boy) slapps his fins on the water and does several of those humpback jumping lunges his species are known for which has everyone on the boat's observation deck going "oohhh" and "ahhhh" and cursing the difficulty of catching such acrobatics on camera.Eventually we leave the whales alone (they can hold their breaths for twenty minutes. I'm trusting that if they had wanted to leave us, they could have easily disappeared beneath the waves and surfaced several miles away) and head for the island.Isla del Plata is also known as the Poor Man's Galapagos, and here, we divide into two groups with naturalists to tour the island. This time of year, the island is dry, shrubby, and inhabited mostly by birds. First up, we see the famed blue-footed boobie. Now, I was pretty excited about these guys who are pretty much just seagull sized birds but with blue feet. The feet come free eating sardines and as the bird ages and eats more and more sardines, its feet become a darker and darker blue. We are taught the calls of the males and females and other differentiating characteristics before taking excessive numbers of photos and moving on.Off the cliffs, we see turkey vultures and other black-headed scavengers soaring on the updrafts, as well as ubiquitous frigate birds. Rumor has it that the island is called Isla del Plata, Island of Silver, for the silver sheen the rocks have taken from years of guano.Rounding a corner, we come across a colony of Nazca boobies, large white and black birds, many with molting young. The babies, now almost as big as their parents, look like pathetic cottonballs, feathers shedding off everywhere. Such untidy creatures. Returning to the boat, we see a lone female albatros guarding her egg. The island is a bit out of her normal range and when her mate returns, she may have to venture ten days in search of food, but she is quite majestic.Back at the boat, we motor out to the reef for a bit of snorkeling. It's rather lackluster with dim coral a long ways down and few fish, but it's good to be in the water before a windy ride back. The whales are still around and we spot five or six doing their acrobatic thing on the return trip along with countless pelicans in dive-bomber formation, gliding eerily between the waves.
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