rickwastaken's TravelStream™ — Recent TravelPod.com entries TravelStream™ news feed for member rickwastaken on TravelPod's free travel blogs service http://www.travelpod.com/syndication/rss/rickwastaken en-us Copyright ©2009 TravelPod.com Thu, 04 Sep 2008 15:27:51 -0400 http://www.travelpod.com Isla del Sol in Copacabana, Bolivia — Copacabana, Bolivia http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rickwastaken/south-2006/1156903260/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rickwastaken/south-2006/1156903260/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rickwastaken/south-2006/1156903260/tpod.html Thu, 04 Sep 2008 15:27:51 -0400 Que será, será in South America
Copacabana, Bolivia

My apologies, to all 4,966 of youI can't possibly imagine the anguish you must be going through. The intense fear. The anticipation. I really appreciate your concern, and I want you to know that I am doing well and am still quite alive. Undoubtedly you have noticed that my entries terminated abruptly in Puno, Peru, leaving you disagreeably positioned on the edge of your seat since last August. So here's what happened: I was somewhere in Bolivia and had a decision to make. The evening is approaching. Do I (1) go out and explore the city or (2) settle into an internet cafe for a few hours of travelogue updates? This decision brought me back to a quote that has stuck in my mind ever since I first saw it on the statue of sailor-historian Samuel Morison on Commonwealth Ave. in Boston:"Dream dreams and write them - aye, but live them first."Who can argue with that? I mean, he uses the word "aye"! I can only hope to one day have a quote attributed to me that has the word "aye" in it. So the decision was made. I would put the travelogue on hold so that it could grow deeper. I would stop writing and start living (more). I did, however, take daily notes on where I had been, who I had met, what I did, and what I paid. All this so that I could synthesize that data, along with scores of pictures and memories, into a complete travelogue ending for you, the reader. I know, I'm a saint.At last count, this travelogue has received 4,966 hits. That's a lot of people waiting for an ending! Actually, I'm pretty certain that 4,946 of those hits are from my mom. The other 20 are likely from me updating the travelogue. So, mom, I proudly present to you, with no further adieu, the second chapter in my South American Adventures:Bolivia and Beyond<i>(I hope you like it)<img src="http://images.travelpod.com/users/rickwastaken/south-2006.1156903260.cimg0387.jpg" alt="cart to bolivia" width="200">My trip from Puno, Peru to Copacabana, Bolivia was excruciatingly mild and safe. Joao Carlos and I took a van packed full of people to the edge of the border around noon (this was actually one of the most uncomfortable rides on the entire trip for me as I just couldn't fit in my seat). We then hired an old man riding a bicycle carriage to take us to the actual border. There was some misunderstanding regarding the price of our ride that ultimately led to a heated argument between Jaoa and the "driver", followed by our exit from the bike and walk for the rest of the way. The border crossing was fairly painless, and upon crossing Joao and I sat down for a beer while we waited for a vehicle that could drive us into Copacabana.Turning Water into Wine on top of Cerro CaldivarioCopacabana is a quaint town on the Bolivian edge of Lake Titicaca. It has a slight "beach" feel to it, with heavy boating and fishing industries. There are a number of opulent churches (like in every South American town I've been through), as well as a couple of sprawling marketplaces and a large hill overlooking the lake. In what seems to have become a trend on my trip, Joao Carlos and I decided to climb to the highest point we could see, which happened to be a hike up Cerro Caldivario.Before starting our trek up this hill, we found a hotel to leave our stuff at and bought a bottle of wine for our enjoyment at the top. The hotel seemed nice enough, within a few blocks of the water and conveniently located. Oh, and did I mention it was only 10bolivianos/$1.25 per night? Gotta love the 8:1 exchange rate.The hike to the top of Cerro Caldivario was a little strenuous, but relatively short and scenic (it took just about half an hour). There are two things you will note should you ever climb to the top of Cerro Caldivario:1. Like many peaks in Latin America, it is adorned with Christian symbols. Early missionaries knew how indigenous cultures praised mountains as being gods. Thus, they shrewdly placed crucifixes atop nearly every apex in Latin America. As you hike up Cerro Caldivario, you pass through each of the stations of the cross, to reach a large sanctuary at the top. It is a mini pilgrimage for many people to climb this hill.2. Like many places in Latin America, it is littered with trash. There doesn't seem to be much of a widely-accepted environmentalism or cleanliness movement in most of Latin America yet. You will constantly find beautiful scenery scarred with dots of waste. Cerro Caldivario was no different. It was a little sad.Upon reaching the top, Joao and I opened our wine and a couple of candy bars we had purchased from a child on the hike up. I don't want to spoil the surprise, but if you look at my pictures for this entry you will find a "miracle" that occurred on top of this peak.<img src="http://images.travelpod.com/users/rickwastaken/south-2006.1156903260.cimg0404.jpg" alt="Joao Carlos and Copacabana" width="100%">From the top of Caldivario, we could hear the perpetual hum of festive music coming from somewhere below, deep inside the city. We scanned the rooftops and gardens, attempting to triangulate the source of this music. We decided to find the festivities upon our descent back into the town.The Real Life Wedding Crashers: CopacabanaAfter a quick meal by the water and some investigative questioning of the locals, Joao and I discovered the music was coming from a wedding. Apparently the whole town had been invited. We found our way to the party, that was being held in a gated courtyard. Have you ever wondered what grandma would look like if she was completely wasted...and Bolivian? Well, wonder no more. We had made it to the post-wedding debauchery. Everyone was dressed up and dancing around as they sang and greeted each other merrily.<img src="http://images.travelpod.com/users/rickwastaken/south-2006.1156903260.cimg0407.jpg" alt="wedding drinks" width="350">Joao and I skirted the edges of the celebration, leaning in a little nook by the entrance. We noticed a pattern. A guest would approach the gateway to the courtyard, carrying a crate of beer. They would enter and be immediately greeted by the bride, the groom, and a terribly sloshed old woman who I can only imagine must have been the mother of one of them. The greeters would hug the new guests, and pour confetti on their heads. Then, a couple of waiters would appear carrying trays of alcoholic beverages. The guests would go through each of the drinks in turn, gulping down the intoxicating goodness. This sure was a way to party. I don't want to imagine grandma's hangover the next day. Check my photo section for the brief video clip I took when I worked up the courage to brandish my camera.Goodbye, Joao CarlosJoao Carlos and I had decided to catch a boat the next morning to the Isla del Sol ("The Island of the Sun"). The Sun figures prominently as the greatest of all the gods of the Incan people. This island was a part of the mythical capital of Incan heritage. Along with Machu Picchu, it was a link in the chain of the supernatural.At 7:15am the next morning, having rested very well for only $1.25, Joao Carlos and I woke up to the shouts of our host at the Arcoiris ("Rainbow") hotel. You see, we thought we would have plenty of time to make it to our 8:30am boat ride to the Isla del Sol. What we didn't realize, however, was that we had unwittingly passed into a new time zone upon entering Bolivia. It was 8:15am and I was very thankful for having passed the details of our plans along to the hotel manager. As another unexpected turn of events, Joao informed me he would not be joining me on the tour. Instead, he would try to find his way to a bus in order to make it back to Brazil. You see, Joao had been traveling for quite some time. He started in his hometown of Sao Paulo, Brazil, and continued north along the countless amazing Brazilian beaches. He then cut into the jungle and passed (nervously) through Venezuela and Colombia, continuing down into Ecuador and Peru (where I met him in Puno). However, he had a fixed date at which he was to meet with his girlfriend in southern Brazil, and that date was fast approaching. He figured the only way he could make it in time was to leave that morning. So we exchanged contact information and parted ways as I headed down to the docks for the next adventure.In search of the Great Puma on the Isla del SolI barely made it to my boat on time. I couldn't argue too much about the price, though (17bolivianos/$2 for a round trip ride to the island). I would be left off on the north side of the island, and then make my way south to a port where the boat would pick up all the passengers who had chosen to hike across the island. There is an easier option of staying overnight on the island, but I decided I would not gain that much from an extra night on this island, and I was eager to continue on my journey south into Bolivia. I figured one day would be enough to explore this magnificent place.On the boat ride, two passengers boarded who caught my attention. One was a relatively young, light-skinned girl with her hair dangling lazily in amber dreadlocks. Her companion was a darker man, who lacked some of the harsher features found on the local peoples. I struck up a conversation. As it turned out, Laura (pronounced "La-oo-rah") was from Colombia, but lived for a period of time in Florida with her family when they moved there. Aaron was a mexican student studying abroad in Cordoba, somewhere in central Argentina. They had met each other just the previous day.The three of us formed a bit of a trio and continued together upon entering the northern shore of the island. At that point we also ran into Julien. Julien is a swiss guy who was traveling through South America for almost a year. He spent a very large amount of time just in Ecuador learning spanish and immersing himself in a family there. He is a testament to the power of fully embedded language learning. He lived with a family on the scale of months and raised his skills close to the level that I had attained after studying spanish on the scale of years (about 9 years, to be a little more exact). It was interesting hearing some of his stories. I really enjoyed speaking with him.We eventually found the great Puma rock. Legend has it that the first Inca sprang from this very spot. I thought it looked more like a frog. <img src="http://images.travelpod.com/users/rickwastaken/south-2006.1156903260.cimg0441.jpg" alt="puma rock" width="100%">The hike was truly amazing just for the spectacular scenery. The Isla del Sol is basically a long ridge with various mounds dotting the way. We walked mostly on the spine of this island, allowing us to get amazing views of Lake Titicaca in all directions. This is definitely a place worth visiting again.<i>Important Note: <img src="http://images.travelpod.com/users/rickwastaken/south-2006.1156903260.cimg0415.jpg" alt="sun dog" width="200"> Should you ever find yourself hiking on the Isla del Sol, please make sure to look up at the sky periodically. I was wearing a hat at the time and might have missed an incredible natural occurrence had Aaron not been more perceptive. You see, on the Isla del Sol there is a rather frequent ambient occurrence known as a "Sun Dog." A what? A Sun Dog. They don't call it that there, though. There it is just an "arcoiris" or "rainbow". But this isn't any rainbow you've ever seen before. This is a full circle. That's right. A ring of rainbow. And on top of that, there were multiple rainbows at the same time! It was amazing. It really would have been a great "I told ya so" moment for my dad. When I was younger he used to say I was blocking out 30% of life by wearing a hat. He was right.Late nights and cold showersLaura and Aaron had been planning on staying overnight at the island, but after we spoke with Julien (who had stayed over the previous night), we decided it really would be better to take the evening boat back and continue with our respective journeys. However, upon our return we found that there was absolutely no way to leave the city. All methods of transportation were currently shut down in what was commonly known as a "Paro". This was basically a strike...performed by the entire transportation industry on a regular basis, and seemingly at random times for random durations. And it was dangerous to violate this paro (you could be attacked or stoned). So we settled down for another $1.25 night at the Arcoiris hotel. Laura, Aaron and I went out to a bar that night and had a lively conversation with a Paceno (term for a man from La Paz, Bolivia). He told us about how much he loves this country, regardless of its small problems (like the sporadic collapse of all national transportation). After having a few drinks, we found ourselves completely locked out of our hotel. We tried climbing up a pole to no avail (the window for our room looked out on the street). Finally, we decided to pound on the uninviting steel door, and then cower several yards away. The manager eventually came and opened the door for us. He did not look happy, and I'm pretty sure he was cursing at us. I guess you get what you pay for.<img src="http://images.travelpod.com/users/rickwastaken/south-2006.1156903260.cimg0448.jpg" alt="international association" width="100%">Aaron left very early the next morning (the three of us had shared a 3-bed room that night). I guess he was in a rush to get to the next place on his journey. Laura was more concerned with getting a hot shower (which was promised on the sign in front of the hotel). However, she found the water to be meticulously set at penguin-loving sub-arctic temperatures. This resulted in a very interesting "conversation" between her and the hotel manager. I sat in the room as I listened to her yelling (in spanish) at the manager. It went a little something like this:Laura: "This hotel guarantees a room with hot water, and the water is freezing!"Manager: "You already took a shower with hot water."Laura: "What?? I have not taken a shower here yet!"Manager: "Yes you have."Laura: "Are you calling me a liar??? Do you want to SMELL ME???"She won. She ended up getting him to open up a hot shower in another empty room. I was happy to get a hot shower, too. After wandering the streets of Copacabana that morning, we decided to do some shopping before heading out. There were a bunch of artisans with goods sprawled on blankets on the sides of the street. Many of them were actually from Colombia, and my association with Laura bought me high status with these wandering gypsies. I ended up purchasing an earthen-toned woven bracelet from a very nice Colombian woman. I remember how carefully she tied it onto my wrist. I haven't taken it off since. Not out of some mission to wear it forever. That would be weird. More because I've never had a particular reason to take it off, and she did such a good job of putting it on anyway.Laura was going to be continuing south towards Buenos Aires, so I thought I might have found a travel companion for some large chunk of time (and a Colombian at that!) Of course she'd be able to negotiate our way out of any future hijackings. Alas, things don't always work out as you'd hope. Laura ended up deciding to stick around in Copacabana a little longer with the street hippies. They were going to be continuing south to some festival a bit later. <img src="http://images.travelpod.com/users/rickwastaken/south-2006.1156903260.cimg0450.jpg" alt="goodbye laura" width="350"> I considered joining them, but decided I had to continue on my own path for now. So with that, Laura and I decided to part ways in hopes that we'd run into each other again at some point between there and Buenos Aires.You know, as I always say: "Friendship makes the travels grand - aye, but solitude makes the traveler grand. Aye keep it real."And you can quote me on that.Quantifiable SummaryVan ride from Puno to Bolivian border (10soles/$3, 2.5hours, very cramped)Hiking Cerro Caldivario (~30 minutes, great views)Wedding Crashing (free, priceless)Hotel Arcoiris in Copacabana (10bolivianos/$1.25, good location, have to fight for hot water)Isla del Sol Boat Ride (17bolivianos/$2, 8:30am til ~6pm, amazing scenery)
]]> Bizarre scenery in the World's Largest Salt Flat — Uyuni, Bolivia http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rickwastaken/south-2006/1157418000/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rickwastaken/south-2006/1157418000/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rickwastaken/south-2006/1157418000/tpod.html Thu, 19 Jul 2007 01:06:38 -0400 Que será, será in South America
Uyuni, Bolivia

On the final leg of my Bolivian adventure I took a three day jeep trek through some of the most bizarre scenery I have ever encountered in my life. Southern Bolivia is painted with mysteriously colorful lakes, hallucinogenic salt flats, and sizzling thermal spouts. I've heard it described as the closest you can get to being on an alien planet without leaving Earth. I'd agree with that.I'm going to try something a little different for this entry. Rather than tell you about all of the amazing landscapes, I'll just direct you to the photo album for this entry. Just scroll through the images I managed to capture and you'll get a glimpse of how spectacular southern Bolivia really is.Here's a quick taste:<img src="http://images.travelpod.com/users/rickwastaken/south-2006.1157418000.cimg0558.jpg" alt="la paz" align="right" width="100%" /><img src="http://images.travelpod.com/users/rickwastaken/south-2006.1157418000.cimg0498.jpg" alt="la paz" align="left" width="100%" /><img src="http://images.travelpod.com/users/rickwastaken/south-2006.1157418000.rick_geiser2_edit_copy.jpg" alt="la paz" align="right" width="100%" />Quantifiable SummaryAs another twist for this entry, instead of the usual summary of numbers for the trip, I will simply paste in the actual set of notes that I kept while traveling.Friday 9/1Buy train ticket at 9amGo to bus station and catch bus to Oruro at 10am (25bs mas 10bs for heavy bag, 3.5hours)Arrive in Oruro at 1:30pmCheck in luggage at train station, go to internet cafe til 3:15pmTrain leaves at 3:15pm, arrive in Uyuni at 10:30pm (52bs) Saturday 9/2Wake up at 8amInternet in morning/stamp passportMeet group at 11amJeep ride to Salar de UyuniSleep in San Juan; Beers with 2swiss, 3 french Sunday 9/3Wake up at 7:30amVisit lots of lakesEnd at Laguna Colorado-Freezing!Eat dinner, sleep Monday, 9/4Wake up at 4:45amLeave to visit Laguna VerdeCross Chilean CustomsBus to San Pedre de Atacama (included in tour, about 1hr)Still alive.
]]> Biking the World's Most Dangerous Road to Coroico — La Paz, Bolivia http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rickwastaken/south-2006/1157079660/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rickwastaken/south-2006/1157079660/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rickwastaken/south-2006/1157079660/tpod.html Mon, 18 Jun 2007 04:53:32 -0400 Que será, será in South America
La Paz, Bolivia

After saying goodbye to Laura in Copacabana, I boarded the (mostly) empty bus that would be taking me to La Paz. There were two interesting things about the 3.5 hour bus ride from Copacabana to La Paz. The first interesting thing was a stop where we had to get off the bus, get on a small (and shaky) boat, and ferry across part of Lake Titicaca (as we watched our bus get ferried across on a much larger boat). The other interesting thing was German.A Brief Detour: FlexiplanningPerhaps now would be a good time to briefly define my traveling philosophy. Not that you have much of a choice about what I say right now. I guess you could skip this paragraph, but then you would be wondering what the next couple of sentences say (and you've already invested this much into reading the paragraph, you feel like you might as well finish it). A number of people have asked me: How do you plan for one of these trips? Do you do a lot of research beforehand? How do you find cool things to do?When I have the luxury of traveling for an extended period of time (greater than one week, and preferably more than three), I like to do what I call "Flexiplanning" (TM). It's not quite planning. But it's not quite a random walk either. The extent of my planning generally involves the purchase of a travel book (usually Lonely Planet). While I'm on the bus ride into a new country, I'll read up on some of its history and some practical notes for traveling there (how much hotels/cabs/food should roughly cost, what some of the points of interest are, etc.) This is more about education than planning, just so I can make semi-informed decisions later (it's important to have a rough idea of what things should cost so you don't get ripped off). Then, upon arrival, I see what happens. I combine the rough information I already have with what I learn from talking with people upon arrival and usually end up finding good deals on hotels and activities. No reservations needed. In fact, on my entire South American journey, there has only been one instance where traveling without reservations ended up being costly. Back in Esmeraldas, Ecuador Brett and I had big problems finding a hotel with any room at all. Of course, we arrived late on the busiest evening of the week, during the busiest time of year, to the busiest part of town (right on the beach). We just ended up having to take a motorcycle-powered ride ~10 minutes away from the beach to find a place that was reasonably priced and available. The ride was totally worth it, though.My most common human sources for activity information have generally been 1) People I meet on the bus (always talk to the person next to you!) 2) Waiters/owners of food places (you paid them for a service, now take advantage of their hospitality and ask for the real deal on the city) 3) Hotel/hostel workers (that person behind the counter knows a lot about what's going on in the city - and what to avoid).While it is much easier to not have to stress about planning and reservations, Flexiplanning (TM) is not laziness. It's "strategic availability" (incidentally, that's how I described my position when I was briefly unemployed). With Flexiplanning (TM) and a little luck, you end up being ready for whatever adventure comes your way. My next adventure came from a German Spanish teacher.Germans are funny peopleIf I had my way, I'd always travel with a German. I don't know about you, but most every German I've ever met has been really funny in a very genuine, self-aware kind of way. Maybe I've just been lucky. Deder was a bit older than me (I would guess he was in his 30's), and he had a very jolly persona. He also loved bicycling. I didn't know this when he sat down behind me on the bus. I remember there being a few minutes while he was sitting behind me when I wondered to myself: "should I turn around and introduce myself?" One remarkable thing about traveling alone is that the answer to that question usually ends up being yes. It was a good thing, too, as he would be the source of my next adventure.Deder was a Spanish teacher in Germany who was briefly traveling through part of Bolivia. He was just a fun-loving guy learning more about the language and culture that he had devoted his life to. For some reason I found it really amusing to picture a German teaching spanish. At some point I mentioned my hijacking story to Deder (it ends up being a great conversation starter) and he was amazed. He said he had an interesting story as well, though not quite as crazy. He was traveling on another bus (I think it was in Peru) and the person sitting behind him asked if he had any scissors. That's a kind of odd question. It turned out there was a woman on the bus going into labor. And the bus kept going. She delivered a baby while the bus was in motion! Then the passengers all decided to put some money together as a gift to the new child. As a sort of game, the mother decided the person giving the highest donation could name the child. What? Yes, name the child. A Swiss guy ended up winning. Personally, I wondered whether this was just some ingenious money-making scheme. Bring a small baby on board with you and fake a birth every day. I wouldn't even be surprised if it was in fact a real birth, specifically planned to occur on a tourist-filled bus for donation purposes (I've seen lots of creative ways to separate you from your money while on buses). Anyway, if you run into a Deitleheim (or something similar) while traveling through Bolivia, you'll know where that came from.Back to Deder and his plans. I found out he would be biking down the world's most dangerous road the next day. Apparently the "death road" was located very close to La Paz. I was intrigued. After he told me a bit more about it, I decided I would go with him. Good thing I was flexiplanning (TM).Getting High in La PazLa Paz is the highest capital city in the world...as far as altitude goes. It was an amazing world to enter. As you come across the ridges of an icy mountain range, the city materializes in a deep valley surrounded by snow-capped peaks. Upon arrival, Deder and I wandered around looking for a hotel. Deder had heard of a nice one from someone, and I confirmed in Lonely Planet that Hostal Milenio would be a decent choice to stay at (although at 25bolivianos/$3 it was a bit pricey for me).<img src="http://images.travelpod.com/users/rickwastaken/south-2006.1157079660.cimg0451.jpg" alt="la paz" align="right" width="100%" />The service at the hostel was great, and we were able to book a bike trip for the next day right from the hotel counter. We then ventured out into the city for an evening meal. The streets were full of activity. Lots of people wandering around, plus many booths selling anything from leather cell phone cases to fried chicken.Towards the center of town we saw a large gathering of people circling some spectacle. With our herd mentality, we got closer to see what everyone else was looking at. There was a street magician/comedian performing (for some reason he reminded me of the annoying comedian from The Nutty Professor...I think because of his bounciness and his strategy to target people in the audience). I scanned the rest of the audience and soon realized we were the only gringos (non-bolivians) there. Like Peruvians and Ecuadorians, Bolivians have a very dark, indigenous look to them. We stood out, and the magician quickly noticed.Almost as soon as we arrived, the magician directed everyone's attention to my new German friend. I wish I had a transcript of what was said (or just a better memory). He made some jokes about us, perhaps not realizing we spoke Spanish. Deder retorted with a thick European accent. The magician asked if he was from Spain and was shocked to hear he was actually from Germany. The two went back and forth with the magician issuing jokes about the German and receiving quick, witty responses from Deder. Deder ended up becoming the main attraction of the show, and even pointed out that the magician should be paying him. It was all very amusing for me.Biking Down the Death Road<img src="http://images.travelpod.com/users/rickwastaken/south-2006.1157079660.img_5928.jpg" alt="road view" align="right" width="300" />We woke up early the next day to begin our adventure on the World's Most Dangerous Road. The "Death Road" takes you from the mountains circling La Paz at a chilling 4,700 meters (15,420 feet) down deep into the jungle of Coroico at 1,200 meters (3,940 feet). That's an 11,480 foot elevation loss (in what ended up being about a 6 hour timespan). On top of that, the "road" is extremely narrow (generally only wide enough for one car) with a huge, steep drop on one side. According to the BBC, "every year it is estimated 200 to 300 people die on a stretch of road less than 50 miles long". It is also the only access road leading down to the village of Coroico. But the bike ride down isn't the most dangerous part. I mean sure, you can mess up and fly off the cliff on your bike (which a number of people have done - our guides even pointed out a part of the trail where one of their fellow guides had gone over not too long before). However, I figured I was pretty good on a bike and could control it enough to keep away from the edges. No, the really dangerous part of the bike ride was that the same winding, steep, dangerous road you fly down on a bike is also the only way to get back up (only this time in a van). For some reason I didn't think about that part until after I was on my bike flying down the road.<img src="http://images.travelpod.com/users/rickwastaken/south-2006.1157079660.cimg0453.jpg" alt="bike mountain view" align="left" width="100%" />The way down was spectacular. I really can't emphasize enough how amazing it was. If you've ever been bike riding and had the opportunity to enjoy a long section of downhill, you have a glimpse of what I'm talking about. It's so invigorating to be gliding carelessly down through one of the most scenic landscapes you'll ever see. <img src="http://images.travelpod.com/users/rickwastaken/south-2006.1157079660.img_5967.jpg" alt="death" align="right" width="300" /> The transition from icy mountaintop to a humid rainforest really is breathtaking. And aside from one (fairly tough) uphill section, the majority of the ride is a quick roll with gravity as your best friend. My only complaint was an occasional traffic problem I had because of a French guy who really didn't know how to ride a bike. He seemed to crave getting in front of people, but then once he was in front he would go very slowly. I'm sure you've encountered this before when driving. The car that just has to be in front of you, but as soon as it gets there it hits the breaks. Let's just say this guy didn't do anything to give me a good impression of French people.At the bottom we stopped by the luxurious Hotel Esmeraldas to clean up before our return. The place was run by a German ex-pat, and you could tell. Everything was meticulously designed to perfection. Every room had a balcony with a great view of the surrounding jungle. There was a pool and a hot tub and a restaurant. Five of the eight people in my group decided to stay there for the night, including Deder. <img src="http://images.travelpod.com/users/rickwastaken/south-2006.1157079660.cimg0457.jpg" alt="road ahead" align="left" width="300" /> I know I would've enjoyed the relaxation of a night there, but the price still felt expensive to me (I think it was somewhere around $6 or $12 for the night), plus I had more adventures to get to the next day.I said my goodbyes to Deder and then began the dangerous drive back up to La Paz. Apparently 25 vehicles become victims of gravity every year (that's one every two weeks!) On top of the normal hazards associated with the road, it was also raining during our ascent. As the van was weaving around tight corners, I just tried not to think too much about the huge drop several feet to my right. I was quite relieved when we finally made it to back to the main road in one piece.<img src="http://images.travelpod.com/users/rickwastaken/south-2006.1157079660.cimg0462.jpg" alt="hotel esmeraldas" align="left" width="100%" />So Long and Thanks for the AshtraysBolivia is the poorest country in South America. This poverty can be felt in a number of ways. You can find hotels for $1.25/night. There are shoeshine boys all over the streets (who hide their faces with ski masks and baseball caps, presumably so they won't be recognized). Crime is (supposedly) very common. You aren't supposed to wander around by yourself at night. But where's the fun in that?Upon my return from the Death Road that evening, I decided to hit the streets of La Paz for some celebration. Leaving everything of value locked up in my hostel, I headed out into the streets, searching for a bar, which ended up being more difficult than I thought. I had to wander a good 10 blocks or more from my hostel before finding something (and even then I had to ask around just to find out it was a bar inside).I walked into a dim, smoky bar that was thumping with energy radiating from the live band performing opposite the entrance. I looked around and noticed I was the only gringo in the entire place. The older man behind the bar reminded me of a British butler, and seemed out of place in this noisy, booming underground (but not quite as much as I was). I ordered a Pacena (the drink of La Paz) and sat down at a table on the outskirts of the action.Before I even got a few sips of beer, I heard a startling shout from across the room. "Hey! Gringo!" Uh-oh. Ever since the hijacking I've been particularly sensitive to loud shouting, and since "gringo" is often used in a derogatory tone in South America, I was more than a little concerned about my well-being. I immediately noticed a hefty, drunken man who had been dancing on top of a table across the room. He was staring right at me, much like I imagine a rhino would stare at a helpless ostrich with its head in the sand right before charging it just for fun. I half expected him to do just that. But he didn't.Fernando Refijo lifted his bottle to his lips, indicating I should do the same. I followed. With numerous onlookers, we began a chugging contest. I still remember how cool and heavy the bottle was. We don't have bottles like that in the US. These bottles could knock out a person who would normally be fine after being smashed in the head a couple of times by American bottles. We both slammed our bottles on the table, nearly at the same time (but I'll say I slammed mine down first since I'm pretty sure he doesn't have a travel blog). He let out a jovial laugh and waved me over to his table. In retrospect, it's amazing how the concept of a beer chugging race is so universal. Maybe they just need more keg parties in the middle east.I got up and joined the table of Fernando and four of his friends (including two other guys, and one couple). I had a blast just talking with them and drinking all night. But you can't drink alone in Bolivia. They explained the rule that you could only drink if everyone else drank at the same time. Otherwise it was considered rude. So we'd have a toast "Salud!" ("Health!"). And then another. And another. We quickly filled the table up with beers. I think this is a good way to drink.Fernando is not the most graceful person, but he insisted on dancing as much as possible. He had no idea what he looked like. I guess that's the only way to dance.At several points Fernando tried to give me an ashtray. Right off the table. I still don't really know why. He insisted it was a gift "from Bolivia." He said it was something I could take back with me to the US, to help remember how great the people in Bolivia are (and specifically, to remember my awesome Paceno friends). I've encountered this sort of intense national pride in every latin american country I've visited. It's quite endearing.As the beers started to pile up on the table, I became a little concerned that this could be a set-up (as I said, I've been slightly paranoid ever since the hijacking). Were they trying to get me drunk so they could rob me? As it started to get late, I looked around at all five of them, and then calmly commented on how I really had to get going because my 6 friends were all waiting for me back at the hostel. Yes, they all knew I was here at this bar, and would probably get worried if I didn't head back soon. I was hoping that would keep me safe, just in case. I said goodbye to everyone, but as I was getting up to leave, Fernando jumped to my side, saying he would walk me out. In my gut I didn't feel like Fernando was a threat, but part of my brain was telling me that this was not an advisable situation. He walked me out of the bar, and as we stood on the empty street he told me how happy he was to meet me. He said I really had to come back to La Paz on September 17th for his wedding. He told me to bring my friends, and he'd have a big party for the Americans. He even wrote it down in my little notebook "No te olvides!" ("Don't forget!"), followed by an attempt at saying please: "Pliss!" I told him that unfortunately I wouldn't be able to make it. He gave me a rough hug, the kind only a drunken, jolly, proud Paceno could give. And with that I stumbled at least 10 blocks uphill back to my hostel. For all the warnings about how dangerous it is, I had no problems in La Paz.The next morning I would be catching a 9am train south to explore some surreal Bolivian landscapes before hopping into Chile. This is supposedly the closest you can get to being on an alien planet without leaving Earth. Bolivia is just full of surprises.Quantifiable SummaryBus to La Paz (3.5 hours, 15bs/$2, 1 ferry crossing for 1.5bs)Night at Hostal Milenio (25bs/$3)Biking down World's Most Dangerous Road (~6hours actual biking, $35, including meals, CD, and shirt)Still Alive.
]]> Floating Islands in Puno — Puno, Peru http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rickwastaken/south-2006/1156739040/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rickwastaken/south-2006/1156739040/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rickwastaken/south-2006/1156739040/tpod.html Thu, 21 Sep 2006 03:27:53 -0400 Que será, será in South America
Puno, Peru

I set off on a five hour bus ride from Arequipa to arrive in Puno around 6:30pm. I was greeted in the terminal with the usual taxi/hotel pushers. <i>"Buscas un hotel?" I ended up finding someone who was offering a hotel for the right price, in a good location, and with hot water. It was dark, so I was mildly concerned about being robbed and the guy didn't seem too trustworthy, but sometimes you just have to take your chances. Besides, I've taken four jiu jitsu classes. If anyone tries anything, I'll just jiu jitsu them to the ground. And by anything, I mean if they punch me directly in the center of my chest with their right hand. Slowly. Then it's all over. Best four classes I ever took. The taxi driver (who actually ended up driving one of the motorcylce/carriage hybrids, not a car) was true to his word and brought me to Posada Real where I would end up staying for the night. The same guy from the taxi then walked me up to my room and pulled out some pamphlets with information on tours of the various islands in Lake Titicaca. Puno is the major city from which tours shove off into the Peruvian side of Lake Titicaca. He offered a tour that would take me to the floating reed islands, as well as a couple of other islands, including all transportation and one night's stay with a local family on the islands. The cost was 10 soles ($3) more than what I had heard it should be, but I figured I would just pay the extra money for the convenience of having everything set up for me from bus terminal to hotel to boat to islands. That night I decided to wander around the city of Puno a little. Most places seemed to be closed, but I found the main street where there seemed to be a fair amount of activity. It felt very strange for me, though, because I was the only gringo walking these streets. Everyone else had that dark, indigenous Peruvian look to them. It was a stark contrast with the gringo-infested streets of Cusco. I was so glad to finally be somewhere where I didn't belong. I ended up finding a club that had a crowd of people outside waiting to get in. I felt terrible because the bouncers signaled for me to come in...past all of the locals who were waiting. They must've seen my gringo face and had american dollar signs spinning around in their minds. I only bought one beer while inside. It was a nice club, packed full of people. Again, I was the only gringo in the entire place. It was great. I stayed for about an hour, and left after I had heard Shakira for the 100th time (don't get me wrong, I love Shakira...it just seems to be an obsession here). I was happy about my first night in Puno, things were looking good. I woke up bright and early at 8am the next morning to the rushed greeting of a van driver who would be taking me to the docks. I didn't have time for a shower, and I had found that the water was actually cold anyway (sometimes, they lie about hot water). We arrived at the dock to see that the boat was packed full of people. There were maybe 20 people on our boat as we shoved off into the murky waters of Lake Titicaca. I had found where all the gringos were hiding.So this island floats...I was mildly disappointed with Lake Titicaca at the start of our trip. I had heard about how beautiful and clear the water was, and how spectacular the views were due to the dizzyingly crisp high altitude (did I mention that Lake Titicaca is the highest navigable lake in the world?).The water was green. Disgustingly green. And I was surrounded by obnoxious tourists. Perfect.I sound very negative here, but the views really were spectacular...and the water cleared up as we got farther away from shore. Eventually, we chugged out of the maze of reeds that we had been navigating for the first hour or so and we entered the Island system of Uros (the "reed islands").The "reed islands" are pretty self-explanatory. They're islands, made of reeds. And it's not just the islands. <i>Everything is made of reeds. The houses. The boats. The beds. The towers. The people there even eat the reeds! This was a golden paradise nestled in a quiet cove of the world's highest lake.The indigenous people living on the reed islands had a history of hundreds of years living hand in hand with the reeds, using their buoyant world as an escape from other aggressive peoples. Little had changed since they first moved to their floating homes, although now you could see solar panels powering their lights. I suppose it makes sense since the alternative is to see your island where absolutely everything is made with dry reeds by the menacing illumination of candles. Also, the people now had about 30 tourists roaming their island every day. But I'm sure that didn't affect their culture any...Livin' la vida localAfter bouncing around on the springy reed islands, we shuffled back onto our boat to head towards the island of Amantani where we would be staying with host families for the night. As we pulled up to the rugged docks of Amantani, a large group of identically dressed women materialized on shore. They each wore carefully stitched white shirts above flowing black skirts. Their heads were draped with long black shawls baring uniquely designed patterns sewn in brilliant colors. These were our host moms.We were split into groups and I ended up staying in a house with Janet, mainly because we were the only people there who weren't in any kind of group. Janet was an American, about 40 years old, who had been traveling around much of the world. She appeared to be quite an adventurer, with an insatiable desire to climb every mountain she could find. She had been climbing a mountain in northern Peru that I think is called Huarez. She also told me about a time when she had attempted Cotopaxi some years back but turned back during the trek due to poor weather conditions. She still seems to regret not having made it to the top.After a short 45 minute hike to the top of the highest peak on Amantani, we returned to our host families for dinner. We had heard from other people that their host families were giving them large meals including guinea pig and other tasty treats. I think our family must've been particularly poor because our meals very simply consisted of soup followed by some sort of potato. The kitchen was carved out of earthen bricks in a small room dimly lit by a solitary candle. I couldn't help but wonder whether this was really how the people here lived, or whether they had a real house just over the hill with electricity and a heated pool. It would have been a clever act, a sort of Indigenous Disney World. But I think these were real people. And they really spoke Quechua, a language used by the Incas centuries ago. This was as close to the real deal as I could find.There was a small fiesta for everyone later that night. It included a live band (playing guitars, drums, and pipe flutes), festive dancing, and local outfits for all of us to wear. I got a large gray poncho while Janet got an outfit similar to our host mom's only lacking some of the patterns on the shawl. Overall it was a pretty fun evening.After our fiesta, we returned to our respective host families for a good night's rest. I ended up chatting with Janet a little while. Her path in life was bold. She had done a great deal of traveling, but had done little to save any money for her future. Her husband was the same way. She was a physical therapist who recently went back to school to get a teaching degree but now she was unsure of whether she really wanted to teach. Either way, her future was uncertain as she had very little money saved up. She was living for that day. She was living for the day before it. She was living for every moment up until the edge of tomorrow. She took a look at my knee and decided I probably had an inflammation in my IT band that was causing the intense pain I had felt on Cotopaxi and in the Colca Canyon. It didn't seem like it would be too serious. I was relieved to know I wasn't causing myself any permanent damage.The next morning we said goodbye to our host families and then rushed down to the boat that would take us to our next destination: the island of Taquile. Other than some beautiful views and some rich history, Taquile didn't seem much different from anything else I had seen in Peru. I enjoyed the island for what it was, but didn't take anything special away from it. It was nice.South American AmigosOn the boat ride back to Puno from Taquile I met a group of travelers that included two Portuguese, two Uruguayans, and a Brazilian. I got along very well with them so we all decided to meet for dinner later that night. I ended up switching to the hostel where the two Uruguayan girls were staying and I shared a room with the Joao Carlos, the Brazilian guy.The next morning, Joao and I said our goodbyes to Uruguayans who would be continuing north into Peru. Joao and I had our eyes set eastward towards Copacabana, the Bolivian town overlooking Lake Titicaca. We hopped a crowded van over to the border. I was happy to have found an interesting and laid-back travel companion. The next leg of the trip was sure to be exciting.Quantifiable SummaryBus from Arequipa to Puno (Flores, 15 soles/$5, 5 hours)Sleep at Posada Real (15 soles/$5)Floating Islands/Amantani/Taquile tour, including everything (60 soles/$20)Bahia hostel (12.5soles/$4)Van from Puno to Bolivian border (2.5 hours, 10 soles/$3, very cramped)Still alive.
]]> Mummies, Canyons, and Condors in Arequipa — Arequipa, Peru http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rickwastaken/south-2006/1156566120/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rickwastaken/south-2006/1156566120/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rickwastaken/south-2006/1156566120/tpod.html Thu, 07 Sep 2006 23:11:31 -0400 Que será, será in South America
Arequipa, Peru

A ten hour bus ride took me from Cusco to Arequipa, Peru. If you are taller than 5 feet, I highly recommend not taking such a long bus ride with Cromotex. This was by far the most uncomfortable bus ride I have been on during the whole trip. There was absolutely no place for my legs. It's times like these it would be convenient to have detachable legs so you can just store them neatly under your chair.I arrived in Arequipa around 5am and was immediately met with the usual taxi/hotel peddlars. One guy offered a place for 10 soles ($3). That sounded fair to me, so I got a ride with him to Hospedaje The Tourist House, a few blocks away from the Plaza de Armas. I immediately checked into my unnecesarily large room and soaked in some much-needed sleep after a restless night. The ceiling for this room was maybe 20 feet high, I felt like I was in a warehouse.I finally got up around noon and headed out to see the city. Arequipa is a town in southern Peru that is known for its strong regional pride and political activism. The people here seem to have more province pride than national pride. The Plaza de Armas for this city is spectacular, featuring a classical church, palm trees, and snow-capped mountains framing the whole picture. These people live inside a postcard.There are four things to do in Arequipa:1) Visit the Santa Catalina Monastery: This is a huge monastery, often called a "town within a town." It's a very nice (but expensive) tour. I ended up doing the night tour for 35 soles.2) See Juanita: Juanita is one of the best-preserved bodies ever found from the Incan time period. She was a young girl who was sacrificed to the mountain gods. She was remarkably preserved in an icy grave until eruptions at a neighboring volcano caused a snow melt that revealed her.3) Visit the Colca Canyon: Some people say that this is the deepest canyon in the world, although I've read that it was decided that a nearby canyon is actually deeper by about 100 meters. This is also one of the best places in South America to view the wild condor.4) Climb a volcano: There are plenty around here, as with most of the places I've been in South America.The first three activities are by far the most popular, and I managed to experience all of them. I spent my first afternoon in Arequipa wandering the town from travel agency to travel agency. You could tell they would do anything to sell you the same thing that everyone else was selling. In general, you should be able to get a Colca Canyon tour for about $30-40. I ended up paying $35 for a two-day tour.Ninth wheel in the Colca CanyonI ended up venturing deep into the Colca Canyon with a group that included a British couple, a Swiss couple, a French couple, and a couple of abnormally physical dogs that mysteriously joined us in the beginning of the hike. It's cute seeing other couples on my travels. Often times, they will even be wearing the same cute matching outfits. They will make cute gestures in response to cute inside jokes. It's very...cute.I was going solo, and even the two random dogs were all over each other. I felt bad for the dogs, actually. You see, the guy was a small beagle-looking dog while the girl was a rather large black dog. The guy dog kept trying to do his thing with the girl dog, but wasn't successful at all during the whole trip (from what I saw). And they tagged along with us from the top, to the bottom, and back up to the top. I felt bad for both of them. Our guide told us that dogs will generally hop onto tours to get food from people at the end. It worked because the British couple fed them a few biscuits.At some point on the three-hour hike down the canyon, my knee pain from Cotopaxi reasserted itself. Once again, I was unable to bend my knee without feeling needles stab through the side of my leg. At the bottom of the canyon we had a relaxed lunch before doing another three hour hike along the Colca River to arrive at a place known as the "Oasis." We swam and slept at the Oasis and I once again killed my knee during the three-hour ascent that started at 3am (I really have to stop these late-night hikes...)I could tell you various anecdotes about talking with the French guy, or translating for the Brits (who didn't speak a word of spanish), or almost leaving the French girl at the bottom of the canyon...but I'm tired and these entries are too long as it is.After reaching the top in my semi-crippled state, we took a bus over to La Cruz del Condor. Here is where we would get some amazing views of wild condors. You can check out my pictures for some of the images and info, but these animals are truly incredible. Their wingspan can be up to 10 feet! And they were circling all around us. Just amazing. We ended our tour of the Colca Canyon with a relaxing dip in the thermal baths of Chivay.Walking in a horror movieI ended up getting back into Arequipa just in time to see Juanita. This was really a spooky experience for me. To be staring through a bilayer of protective glass at something that was walking the planet over 500 years ago is incredible. And this isn't a mummy. No, this is a person. She has skin. She has hair. She has a spooky expression on her face. Too bad no cameras were allowed inside.I couldn't stare at her very long because my imagination would race ahead of me, producing all of the theatrics necessary for a horror movie scene. Did her hand just twitch? Did her head tilt towards me? No... Is she moving? Wait, where did the protective glass go? Ok, I have to get out of this dark room...My next stop: Lake Titicaca. Sweet.Quantifiable SummaryBus from Cusco to Arequipa: 25 soles($8), 10 miserable hours.Night tour of Santa Catalina: 35 soles($10), 2 hours in english.Hospedaje Tourist House: 10 soles ($3)/night/person. Big rooms, hot shared shower.Colca Canyon Tour: $35, 2 days, incredible.Juanita Tour: 15 soles ($5), 2 hours, spooky.Still alive.
]]> And then there was One in Machu Picchu — Aguas Calientes, Peru http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rickwastaken/south-2006/1156100460/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rickwastaken/south-2006/1156100460/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rickwastaken/south-2006/1156100460/tpod.html Wed, 06 Sep 2006 19:44:53 -0400 Que será, será in South America
Aguas Calientes, Peru

For the entire trip up to this point, I have been walking in the shadow of the Incas. Their footprints dot most of the South American coast, and their legacy paints rich traditions everywhere I've been. But now I was going to Machu Picchu. The Incas were no longer some phantom echo in the wind. No, this was their famous lost city. This was a sacred place buried deep inside mountains and jungle, never to be discovered by the Spanish as they plundered and destroyed one of the world's greatest empires. This was the closest you could get to staring an Inca in the eyes...with about a thousand other gringos at your side. I squeezed into a small colectivo (or van), along with an older Peruvian couple and an Austrian couple. We had about an hour and a half ride to get from Cusco to Ollantaytambo. From there, I would be taking a scenic two hour train ride to Aguas Calientes, the launch pad to Machu Picchu. The young Austrian couple had been traveling for a while now. They were doing a 10-month expedition around the world. This seems to be a common trek for many Europeans and Australians, but is relatively unheard of for Americans. To this point, I have only encountered three main types of Americans in South America: 1. Service workers: These people do community service in one area for anywhere from 2-4 weeks, and then do a quick tour of the surrounding area. Azalea would fall into this category.2. Retirement searchers: These are older couples that speak questionable spanish but that are traveling through South America in search of a cheap and exotic retirement home. Dan and Paula (from the Cuyabeno jungle trip) fall into this category. 3. Two-weekers: These are the short-term tourists that are only visiting a few highlights of South America before returning to the real world. It's a brief dip, barely penetrating the surface. This tends to be people who just can't get the time off of work to do more. For many of the foreigners that I have met, their countries seem to encourage them to just take a year to fly around the world. Australians do it because it's cheaper to buy a round-the-world plane ticket if they're visiting the Americas anyway. I think there's something in the American mentality that tends to prohibit such reckless abandon. If we put a year somewhere, we'd better see some results. We need to be constructive with our time. We can't just go sightseeing and abandon our lives for a year. The Austrians could, though. I was green with envy. Nine weeks is not long enough. Phantoms in Machu PicchuI met up with Brett in Aguas Calientes that evening. We wandered around a little, even tasting some of the local cuisine (guinea pig!). We stayed at a nice, cheap hostel that night, conveniently located near the bus terminal for trips up to Machu Picchu. We decided we would wake up early the next morning to get to Machu Picchu when it opened at 6am. At 5:15am, there was no way Brett could be separated from his bed. He said he would meet me later as I would be spending all day on the ruins. I set off for the ruins with the two Austrians. We got to the terminal just before 5:30am, so we could catch the first bus up to Machu Picchu and maybe get a view of the ancient city before the plague of tourists descends on it. Upon arrival at the bus stop, we encountered about 200 people with the same idea. The bus cost us $6 each way, and we had to pay about $40 for admission into Machu Picchu. They could charge whatever price they wanted, and they knew it. As it turns out, it isn't really worth arriving at the ruins as soon as it opens at 6am. The clouds are thick, blocking any kind of view of the ruins. The crowds of tourists are thicker, blocking any kind of hope for solitude. We wandered around the ruins a little, finally ending up at the base of Wayna Picchu on the side opposite the entrance. The Austrians decided they would rather not wait in the long line to ascend Wayna Picchu, so I was left alone to climb yet another peak. When traveling, you encounter many phantoms. You meet someone whose path is temporarily aligned with yours. They are a passing cloud. They have no past, nor future. They are just stories of places they have been and places they may go. They only exist in the present, before fading away into the depths of memories forgotten. Travel is an accelerated microcosm for relationships back in the real world. You become intimately close with someone for a few ephemeral moments, or years. Then they disappear. Time passes, seasons change. You begin to wonder whether they ever really existed, whether you ever really could've been so close to something that is so far away. Then you stop wondering. In travel, such encounters usually end with "I'm sure we'll run into each other again" or various forms of the phrase. Sometimes the world is small enough to bring truth to your words. Most times it isn't. I parted from the Austrians with the idea that we would meet up later that afternoon. The ruins weren't too big, and certainly we'd run into each other again. I never saw them again. The hike up Wayna Picchu was rather steep, but I made it to the top within 35 minutes (just under the recommended 1 hour climbing time). On top I met some Americans of the Service Worker variety who had been building something in a nearby city and were now doing their short excursion before returning to the states. The views weren't so great from Wayna Picchu and I decided the hike was more just to say you did it than anything else. I spent the day floating around the various ruin sites. I did a short walk to the Inca Bridge (which basically just looked like someone had thrown a few boards across a chasm) and met more phantom tourists: a Spaniard and two Colombians. Brett still was nowhere to be found, and I had wandered every corner of the ruins (I had about 12 hours there!). I met mother/son traveling duo of the Two-Weeker variety who were just doing a short trip through parts of Peru. I told them a few of my stories from traveling so far. I also mentioned my plan to drive from Maryland to San Francisco, CA upon my return to the US (I start work on October 2nd, so that leaves me a week and a half to get across the country). Patty (the mother) offered her house to me as a place to crash at any point if I needed while driving. She's also a journalist for the Lincoln Journal Star. Maybe I'll make the headlines.I returned to Aguas Calientes on a bus with Patty and her son. I had been around the city the night before so I showed them around a little before heading back to my hostel. Aguas Calientes was a small town, so we said a rushed goodbye, accompanied by a sincere "I'm sure we'll run into each other again." I never saw them again.The Agua is Caliente in Aguas Calientes...But the Bars Aren'tAfter parting with the Nebraskans, I made a trip to the natural hot baths at the very top part of the city. The water was murky and steaming. I met a few Irish travelers who had been together bouncing around the world for the past 10 months and still had a couple months to go. The trio consisted of two girls and a guy. I can't possibly fathom how you could find two other people whose mindsets and interests were aligned well enough to survive 12 months of traveling together. They seemed mentally sound on the outside at least. You don't find Americans doing this. We ended by jumping into a pool of freezing water. It's supposed to be good for closing your pores. I think it's good for making the gringos look ridiculous. We then went to the locker rooms to change. I decided to take advantage of the warm showers here to clean off some of the sweat from a day of hardcore tourism. Aguas Calientes was small, though, so I said goodbye to the Irish trekkers with a sincere "I'm sure we'll run into each other again." I never saw them again.After leaving the hot baths, I wandered the streets looking for my new Irish friends. I couldn't find them in any bars. I soon realized, I couldn't find anyone in any bars. And it wasn't that there was a lack of bars. Every other building was a bar or a pizzeria. No, this town was just empty. I couldn't believe it. This is the only place that feeds into Machu Picchu, the tourist mecca of all of South America. Nobody was here!I ended up settling for a restaurant that just had one older couple. I sat at the table, drinking my beer and eating my burger. I was really alone, for the first time. I asked my waiter if Aguas Calientes was always so empty (it was a Saturday night, afterall). "Siempre." He explained that most tourists just come and go in one day, not even staying overnight. I have no idea how all of these restaurants and hotels support themselves. It's almost as mysterious as the ancient Incan ruins.Machu Picchu, Day TwoI wasn't planning on visiting Machu Picchu again on Sunday, but when I awoke to beautiful blue skies I decided it was worth the $40 splurge on another day, considering the blue sky barely peaked through the clouds the entire previous day. This time I knew better than to show up for the 6am cattle rush. I got to the ruins around 1pm and strolled around. I did a short hike to the Sun Gate (check the photos), and ended up meeting a girl from Korea at the end of the day.Mihyeon was from Korea but had been studying the past year at UC Davis in California, within 15 minutes of where I will be living upon returning to the US. We ended up grabbing a cheap dinner at a local place. She had been traveling for a month more than me, and had been through parts of Brazil, Argentina, and Bolivia. Did I mention she didn't know any spanish before arriving in South America? Did I also mention that her english was not quite fluent? Wow. And she was traveling alone! I warned her to stay away from northern Ecuador at night.After dinner, I headed off for my train back to Ollantaytambo, followed by a quick bus ride back to Cusco. She would be in Cusco the next morning, so I gave her my hotel name. "I'm sure we'll run into each other again." I never saw her again. But I have heard from her through e-mail. She's doing well.A change of plansAs you may know, my original plan was to travel to Brazil after Machu Picchu. I would be working alongside Jina Kim to construct a diagnostics facility for a clinic associated with an orphanage in an isolated part of the Amazon jungle. However, I heard from Jina that she would no longer be able to make it (I actually found out back when we were hijacked in Ecuador). She had very legitimate reasons for dropping out, but this left me in a tough place. Considering the following points, I decided not to continue with the trip as planned:1. I don't speak portuguese.2. Brazil is expensive. I would also have to get a Visa, and pay $100 just to get in.3. The place we would be going, Jacunda, is very isolated and would be tough and possibly even dangerous to get to.4. Without Jina, I would be much less effective doing this project alone.So now what?I decided I would continue southward, keeping to the spanish language. I roughly set a goal of going through Bolivia and Chile, to end up at some point in Buenos Aires. I had no idea if this was reasonable or worthwhile. I guess I'll have to see.As it turned out, Brett never ended up making it back to the ruins, and his trip promptly came to an end. He would be taking a flight from Cusco to Lima and then Lima to Tumbes, followed by a bus to Quito and a flight to Boston. I never ran into Brett after that morning when I saw him asleep before heading off to Machu Picchu. Oh well, I'm sure we'll run into each other again.Quantifiable SummaryColectivo from Cusco to Ollantaytambo: 10 soles ($3), about 2 hours.Train from Ollantaytambo to Aguas Calientes: $26 roundtrip or $34 one-way, 2 hours.Hostal La Fortaleza in Aguas Calientes: 20 soles ($6)/person/night.Entrance into Machu Picchu: 118.50 soles ($40)/day, half as much for students with ISIC card.Bus from Aguas Calientes to Machu Picchu entrance: $6 each way, about 20 minutes.Still alive.
]]> The best souvenirs in Cusco, Peru — Cusco, Peru http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rickwastaken/south-2006/1155922320/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rickwastaken/south-2006/1155922320/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rickwastaken/south-2006/1155922320/tpod.html Tue, 05 Sep 2006 11:59:36 -0400 Que será, será in South America
Cusco, Peru

The flight to Cusco afforded some nice views of the Peruvian Cordillera. I think I was surprised to find that Peru was mostly desert and arid mountains. For some reason the image I had of Peru was just jungle and tribesmen, not sandboarding on dunes (a popular thing to do in Ica, a place that I didn't have time to visit). You have to go farther east into the Amazon to find the stereotypical image of Peru. Upon arrival at the airport, we got our first taste of what Cusco would be like. We were immediately hounded by brochure pitcher after brochure pitcher. <i>"Buscas un Hostal? Hablas Ingles? You_need_hotel?" After making it through the crowd, we were met with a number of cab drivers. We eventually found one who would take us to the Plaza de Armas for the right price. Cusco was beautiful. The Plaza de Armas has a rich colonial feel, yet it is surrounded by spectacular mountain landscapes. The only problem is that it is filled with gringos, and somehow manages to have way too many vendors for us all. This is where supply and demand come into play. I never took an economics class, but I think it goes something like this: Lots of GringosAbout a million more restaurants/bars/vendors than those gringos could ever use= Desperation for business Here's an example: You walk down a street and have people coming up to you throwing menus in your face. You say <i>"No queremos pagar 15soles. Pagaríamos 10." ("We don't want to pay 15 soles/$5, we'll pay 10soles/$3." You can name your price. Soon upon arrival into Cusco, Brett and I did what has become a custom for us to do...we saught the highest point we could find. It was a strenuous hike up the narrow stone roads to a point beside a church that overlooked the entire city, just before sunset. It was no Cotopaxi, but then there aren't very many highest active volcanoes in the world. We ended up staying at a nice place called Torcasa, a few blocks off the Plaza de Armas. It cost us 20 soles (about $6) per night. It had a shared bath with hot water, and the staff was very friendly. It had no sign on the outside of its door, though. If you remember, we were hijacked in northern Ecuador and my camera was one of the items taken from us by the armed Colombians. After searching through Ecuador for another camera only to find a similar model to my previous camera (but older, and of less quality) for about twice the price, I decided it was better to have a camera shipped from the US. So my dad bought the camera and Cusco was the decided destination via DHL service. It was supposed to arrive a couple of days before us. After much hassle and arguing with DHL, it ended up coming an entire week late. Touring the Area, Hating DHLDuring the time while we were waiting for the camera to come (because you can't go to Machu Picchu without a camera), we would visit various historic places in-between lies and misinformation that we received from various DHL officials. We did a City Tour, which was fairly nice and cheap. It was a half-day excursion that took us to a number of important buildings and ruins in the Cusco area. However, I'd say the Sacred Valley Tour was much better, and a much better value. A bus drives you to a number of towns around Cusco, with a guide describing the various ruins that you go through. Some of the places have ruins that are on par with those found at Machu Picchu. On the Sacred Valley Tour, we met Carmen and her friend (forgot the name, sorry!) who were planning on heading to Machu Picchu on a train that evening. One of the options for the Sacred Valley Tour is to remain at Ollantaytambo, the last stop, and take a train from there to Aguas Calientes (the entry to Machu Picchu). The train ride is then shorter, and ends up being cheaper. Carmen had opted for that. They were both from Lima, Peru, and were traveling to see the same ruins that we would see. They even were using Lonely Planet as their immutable guide (that book is amazing). Carmen's friend was also very useful as she was able to talk down prices quite well. The tour bus dropped us off at an isolated buffet restaurant for lunch (as tour buses tend to do), where we would each have to pay 24soles ($8) for a buffet meal. Carmen's friend said we only wanted to pay 8 soles. Somehow that actually worked, and the four of us had the exact same meal for only 12 soles ($4). Wow. Looking for a wife? Go to Cusco.I will be very brief on this part of the story, because it really isn't my story to tell. No, this is Brett's story to tell. However, I was there for parts of it, so I will give you some of the more interesting anecdotes. So the bar scene in Cusco is quite interesting, there are callers in the street who run up to you and shove fliers for their bars in your face. <i>"Hahppeee Hour! Freee Dreenks!" Anyway, we had a situation earlier in the night where Brett needed to be rescued from a British girl who was overenthusiastically pursuing him and I played the role of lame anti-wingman who had to go back and Brett felt bad leaving me alone since I have a girlfriend. After losing that girl, we went to another bar where I <i>really had to use the restroom. Brett went first. When I came out of the restroom, Brett was already gone. I walked around the dance floor, and he was nowhere. Then I spotted him, over in the corner of the room, sitting and talking with a very attractive latina. Wow, he works fast. As it turns out, she's the one who works fast. Over the next several nights, Brett would meet her in bars and she would be extremely persistent and conspicuous in her motives. For example, one night we were sitting at dinner and Brett asked her to pass the napkins please. She pointed at her ring finger and said <i>"Dónde está mi anillo?" ("Where is my ring?") Another example: we were sitting in the Plaza de Armas talking about our plans to go see Machu Picchu. She said she would be interested in going with us (although apparently the main purpose of their trip to Cusco was just to go to bars and look for husbands). A little later in the conversation, she said that she had been to Machu Picchu once before when she was younger and she promised herself she would not return unless it was with her husband or boyfriend. Damn. She also explained to us the qualities of a "good peruvian wife":1. Smile a lot. You have to look happy.2. Be really good in bed.3. Maintain the house. If you do those three things, you will be likely to have a good peruvian husband (one who doesn't cheat on you). Whoa, I think we just slipped backwards about 50 years somewhere. All in all, Lucia (that's her name) was very nice and I actually really enjoyed talking with her. She had travelled through much of the world and had interesting stories to tell. Of course, I had the shield of a girlfriend to protect me (sorry to use you again, Jamie!). Brett seemed less interested in talking with her, sometimes using "poor spanish" as an excuse. I think I'll keep in touch, since I genuinely think she's an interesting person (aside from the marriage complex). She said she's going to be visiting Vegas in the coming year. If she doesn't find a husband there, she should just give up. Brett left before me for Machu Picchu, as I was still having issues with DHL and my camera. It did arrive eventually, with a $92 hidden fee tacked on. Thanks, DHL. I left for Aguas Calientes the day after Brett. Time to see the most touristy thing in the world... Quantifiable SummaryFlight from Lima to Cusco, Peru: $105, about an hour.Hostal Torcasa: 20 soles ($6) per night, nice place, hot water, nice staff.City Tour: $10, but we went with an expensive company.Sacred Valley Tour: 20 soles ($6).Tourist Ticket (to get into ruins on Sacred Valley/City Tours): 35 soles ($11) for students, twice as much for non-students.DHL sucks.Still alive.
]]> BINGO! on the way to Lima, Peru — Lima, Peru http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rickwastaken/south-2006/1155922200/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rickwastaken/south-2006/1155922200/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rickwastaken/south-2006/1155922200/tpod.html Mon, 28 Aug 2006 21:56:56 -0400 Que será, será in South America
Lima, Peru

Cruz del Sur, El Placer de Viajar en Bus. This bus was ridiculous. It was closer to a flight than any bus we had been on previously. We checked our bags at a counter (of course we could see them just put the bags outside to go under the bus, but still). The bus had two levels of seats even. It was incredible.Brett and I were seated in what is likely the equivalent of First Class. We decided to splurge on this overnight bus, rationalizing it with the money we would save on not having to get a hostel for the night. The seats were extraordinarily spacious, and we were served immediately upon departure. This was my first first class experience ever. It felt obscene. We were separated into the front of the top level of the bus. I felt like some rich pompous jerk. At least I would finally get some sleep, though.Some time into the drive a buzzing voice came over the speakers. The voice was accompanied by an attendant who gave us each a Bingo card. They were broadcasting a Bingo game to us! It was strange, but I decided to play as I had nothing else to do. The numbers were read first in spanish, then in english. Both were very hard to decipher because of the noise in the microphone. Brett decided not to play. I think I had an unfair advantage because I could hear the numbers twice each time, which helped a lot when both languages were so electronically butchered. My card ended up getting completely filled, but I didn't know what to do. I asked the one of the other two people who had also decided to be elitist pricks in first class, and he told me I had to go to the back of the bus where the announcer was. I peered back into the long aisle of seats that cost 3/4 of what I had paid. Was the game rigged?I walked down the aisle with my winning ticket, only to find two other people with the same luck standing by the announcer. As it turned out, she had a normal human voice. She held out a hand with three folded pieces of paper. We each drew to see who the winner would be. As luck would have it, I actually won. Yay. What did I win? They gave me a ticket that was good for the one-way reverse bus ride from Lima to Tumbes (probably a $30 value). Not too shabby. She asked my name. On the way back to my seat, her metallic voice came back over the speakers. "Congratulaciones al ganador...Reech hard." They all clapped as I scooted my way back to the front seat palace. It seemed like this was just rubbing it in. I think I'm done with first class for a little while.Upon arrival in Lima we took a cab to the airport. We were able to book a flight to Cusco for a couple of hours later at 1:30pm. It cost $105, but was well worth it to shave off the 20 hour bus ride that we would have to take otherwise. We were running short on time as Brett's trip was nearing an end. We were entering the last leg of our trip together: Machu Picchu. The most visited, most talked about, most famous place in all of South America. I wonder if it will have very many tourists...Quantifiable SummaryBus from Piura to Lima: 140soles ($45), 14 hours, well worth the sleep.Flight from Lima to Cusco: $105, 1 hour.Still alive.
]]> Shiny boots in Piura, Peru — Piura, Peru http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rickwastaken/south-2006/1155489960/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rickwastaken/south-2006/1155489960/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rickwastaken/south-2006/1155489960/tpod.html Mon, 28 Aug 2006 21:26:19 -0400 Que será, será in South America
Piura, Peru

We arrived in Piura sometime around 8am to find a town that was completely empty. We immediately went to the Cruz del Sur ticket office a few blocks away from the Plaza de Armas in hopes that we could get a southward bus soon. Cruz del Sur is one of the nicest and most reliable bus companies in South America and they even have "cama" seats that recline very nicely. Since we had spent the previous 10 hours on an uncomfortable bus from Guayaquil, we were quite tired and decided it was worth the extra money to get a good night's rest.As it turned out, Cruz del Sur only had a bus leaving at 8pm that night for Lima, so we'd have to spend about 12 hours in Piura. It seemed like our best bet, so we bought the tickets and even splurged to get the first class seats with full reclining action.We met a man at the station who was from the area and we asked him if there was anything interesting to do in Piura. He hesitated for a moment. "uhh...no." Great.We spent the day wandering around the Plaza de Armas (every city in South America has a main plaza, called its Plaza de Armas) and hurriedly tying the loose strings that still connected us with the real world. We probably spent about 6 hours in one internet café.One thing you'll notice in many plazas in South America is all the shoeshine boys. They're all over, and they come up to you and offer to shine your shoes, regardless of what you're wearing. Hiking boots? They'll shine them. Sandals? They'll find material to shine on them. Barefoot? Well they'll give you the shiniest toes in the plaza.There are also many other people selling goods and services and we seem to have found a hierarchy in the whole mess. You start young with shoeshining if you're a boy. The girls try to sell you woven bracelets. Then, they move up to sunglasses. You sell knockoff shades probably into your early 20's. Then, as you advance in years, you get to the point of selling (illegally burned) DVD's. Of course the delicate balance of people selling you things you don't want gets much more complex as you start to throw in food and arts, but I won't go into all that now.We met a young boy named David who wanted to shine our hiking boots. He ended up sitting on the ground in front of our bench for a while, long enough to be awkward. We ended up having a nice convesation with him. He looked very young to me, maybe 10 or so, but he was actually 14 years old. Also, he did in fact have a home somewhere...and about 8 siblings! He even went to school. The shoeshining gig was just what he did during their school breaks. He asked us if we were going to Lima. Yes, we were. He knew because everyone coming through Piura was on their way to Lima. He had been shining shoes for 5 years. Had he ever visited Lima? No. He had never left Piura in his life. He knew Lima was far away, though. He asked where we were from. "Los Estados Unidos." He asked if that was far away. "Si." In his eyes the world must be incredibly large and indeterminately small all at once. Lima is the same as Boston to him. Ten miles is as far as one hundred, or a thousand. The world is big. The world is tiny. It's time to go to Lima.Quantifiable SummaryBus from Guayaquil, Ecuador to Piura, Peru: 10 hours, $10.One day of internet: About 3 soles/hour.Still alive.
]]> Surfing and birds in Montañita and Puerto Lopez — Montañita, Ecuador http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rickwastaken/south-2006/1155426120/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rickwastaken/south-2006/1155426120/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rickwastaken/south-2006/1155426120/tpod.html Mon, 28 Aug 2006 00:11:29 -0400 Que será, será in South America
Montañita, Ecuador

In order to get from Atacames to Montañita we would have to first go through Guayaquil (it appeared that this would be the fastest route). However, we had heard that the bus route between Esmeraldas (in the north) and Guayaquil (in the south) can be dangerous. Considering our Colombian experience, we weren't too thrilled about having to take an overnight bus on that route, but it was the only option that really worked. At least there was an armed police officer riding in the front of our bus. Within 15 minutes of leaving the bus station, we stopped. Brett and I had no idea what was going on. Everyone just got up and started leaving the bus. This didn't seem like a good start to an 8 hour trip.When we got off the bus, there was one line with all of the adult male passengers and one line with all of the women and children. I was comforted to see that we were actually in front of a police check point. Officers walked along the line checking ID's. This would have made me feel a lot better about the rest of our ride if the police check had been conducted somewhat securely. However, this was done out on a street and the area wasn't really closed off. When we got back on the bus that previously had one person in every seat, there was an extra man standing up. Someone had snuck on at the police check point! Long story short: bus driver stopped after he realized what was going on and there was a big argument with the extra man. However, in the end they just let him ride standing up. That had us concerned, but the rest of the ride to Guayaquil ended up being uneventful. Upon arrival in Guayaquil early Wednesday morning, we got a bus to Montañita. This would be about a 3 hour bus ride along the coast that afforded views of a number of small fishing towns. Unfortunately there was a thick blanket of clouds over the sky in the southern beaches of Ecuador this time of year. We arrived in Montañita later that morning. Hippies in Montañita Just as we had done before in Atacames, Brett and I wandered through the streets in Montañita with our large red packs marking us as tourists. However, unlike in Atacames, the large packs made us blend in here. Montañita was a tourist mecca, a hub for international visitors. It was also full of hippies. We're talking hemp and tie-die, big time. We searched around the city trying to find a hotel for $3/person/night. Most places were giving us a price of $5, which seemed steep for a Wednesday in August (the peak season is around December-February, when surfing is best). We stopped at one hotel that was charging $6, and the woman at the counter refused to bargain with us. At that point another woman came over to us. "You looking for a cheap hotel?" She was from the US. She was ambiguously in her late 30's or late 40's, but she dressed like she was in her 20's. She started guiding us off the main road towards a place that would presumably be cheaper. She moved carelessly, drifting in no particular direction but somehow getting where she wanted. I ventured to ask "How long have you been here?" "Too long." She explained that her daughter did not want to leave, so she had been bumming in this tourist-ridden beach town for some indefinite period of time. Wow. (Gilmore Girls) + (Hippie Ideals) - (Grasp of Reality) = Our personal hotel finder. Unfortunately she wasn't a very good hotel finder as still the cheapest deal we could find was $4/person/night, and at a place that was much lower in quality than the $6 place. We ended up deciding to go to Casa Blanca, the $6 hotel, which was also the nicest hotel in town. We were living richly, with a balcony and personal hammock overlooking the main strip. From there we could see the street full of vendors, surfers, people with no direction in life, and tourists. This was the life. Brett decided to take a nap (the bus had afforded us little sleep) while I wandered through the city. I found some information about surfing lessons, and then went in search of surfer necklace that would really make me fit in. Don't get me wrong, I could already pass off in this town. I had the beard and hair that was just long enough to not be clean-cut. Around here the length of your beard was a badge of pride. It was a sign that said "Look at me and my long beard! Look how long I've been able to stay away from The Man!" The Man was not keeping me down, and everyone knew it. I found a booth that had a nice necklace made with coconuts I think. While browsing, I met Cristian Naranjo. Cristian was a jolly looking guy, about my age, from Quito, Ecuador. I met him the same way that I've met most people on this trip: with the simple question "Where are you from?" As it turns out, Cristian had studied Philosophy in the US and was now in Montañita celebrating his birthday...sort of. He was actually by himself, avoiding too large of a celebration with his friends. I found this curious, but got a good vibe from him in general. We ended up going back to the town to have a beer. We shared various views on philosophy and social justice. I mentioned the Colombia incident and how I had met some people in Ecuador who called Colombians their brothers, and other Ecuadorians who blamed all that is bad in the world on Colombians. Cristian explained the irony in how people in the US are against South American immigration, and then Ecuadorians turn around and don't want Colombians entering their borders. The complaint is the same in both cases: "They steal our jobs." I got Cristian's cell number and he invited me to stay at his place if I needed when I get back to Quito. I fully intend to give him a call. Brett and I ended up doing a 2 hour surfing lesson that afternoon. Montañita is known for its great waves, although we were there during the low season. I had many more problems tackling the waves here than I did at Tamarindo Beach in Costa Rica. This was my second time surfing, but I was only able to get up on the board for very brief periods of time. I'm going to blame the waves. I think Brett agrees. Isla de la Plata The next day, we woke up very early to go on a tour of Isla de la Plata, also known as the "Poor Man's Galapagos." I knew by this point that I would not be going to the Galapagos Islands during this trip as that would cost me over $1,200 in total (including $300 flight and $900+ tour boat). Isla de la Plata had nowhere near the biological majesty that is associated with the real Galapagos, but we work with what we have. The tour included a one hour bus ride up to Puerto Lòpez, the departure point for the island. We met our guide on the shore where he told us a little about the island and the whales that we would see on our way there (this was the peak season for whale watching). It was about a three hour boat ride to the island, during which we saw many whales jumping out of the water. The ride was extremely choppy and by the end Brett and I were very relieved to get solid earth under us again. Our tour group consisted of a number of people from different countries, as well as a family of Ecuadorian tourists. Before we started our hike, the guide told us we could not bring food with us and we turned back to see that each member of the Ecuadorian family had their hand in their own bag of potato chips/snacks. For once the Americans weren't the ignorant tourists. During the tour we saw three different species of birds, including the Piquero de pata azul (blue-footed boobie in english, I think), the Piquero de Nazca, and the Frigata Magnifica. You can look at the stories with my pictures to find out more about the interactions between these birds. I'll give you a teaser: induced vomiting is involved.After walking around the island for a few hours, we took the boat to a nearby cove to do some snorkeling. We met an Australian girl on our tour named Rachel who spoke English and French but no Spanish. She was traveling with a friend who she had lived with while studying in France. Her friend spoke French and Spanish but little to no English. This made for some interesting conversation/translation.On the boat ride back I saw a few whales, however I ended up spending most of the trip focusing intensely on the distant horizon. My stomach was not moving well with the ocean. I was not alone. Rachel, who was sitting right beside me, leaned over the edge of the boat to feed the fishes. A few of the Ecuadorians also made deposits in the Pacific Recycled Food Bank. Fortunately I was able to maintain my focus long enough to survive the 3 hour tour, although I was certain that some of the waves were large enough to pull our boat under. The boat finally deposited us back on land, and not a moment too soon for me.Get your Ecuadorian boyfriends hereThat night we ended up going to a few bars. We noticed something that seemed to be a trend throughout Ecuador (and most obviously along the coastal areas): foreign women seemed to be finding Ecuadorian boyfriends. It didn't seem to go the other way so much, though. When we were in Atacames, there was a girl from the midwest US staying in the room next to us who had been living in Ecuador for a year. She had an Ecuadorian boyfriend who spoke very little english. The bar was filled with gringo female/Ecuadorian male couples. Sometimes this made for an interesting spectacle because Ecuadorian people in general are rather short. You could see an average-sized gringa (wearing all of her beads and other hippy regalia) dancing with a man 3/4 her size. But he could seriously dance. I guess I should learn how to salsa.So if you're a hippy girl and you want to improve your spanish, the best idea is probably to just live in a beach town in Ecuador for a little while. You could get a husband out of the deal, too.The Casa Blanca hotel tried to pull a fast one on us for our Thursday night stay. They tried to increase our rate from $6/person/night to $10, claiming it was some special festival or something. They even pulled out their poorly scribbled poster claiming that Thursday was the beginning of some festival. Ok, fine. We'll give you $7. They eventually agreed with that. Maybe we should've just left, but we paid the extra dollar for the convenience of staying put.The next afternoon we got out of Montañita (only after enjoying a few pancakes). We took the 3 hour bus ride to Guayaquil, and from there we caught the only bus that was available going into Peru, which ended up being a 10 hour bus for Piura, Peru that would get us there around 8am.Ecuador has been nice, but it's time for a change of scenery.Quantifiable SummaryBus from Esmeraldas to Guayaquil: Trans Esmeraldas, 8 hours, $8Bus from Guayaquil to Montañita: $4Hotel Casa Blanca in Montañita: $6/person/nightSurfing Lesson (2hr): $12Isla de la Plata Tour (all-inclusive): $50!!!Still alive.
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