Argentina - Mendoza - Adios to the Americas

So in about 48 hours, I´ll be boarding my flight from Santiago to Auckland. And 48 hours after that I will arrive in New Zealand, despite the fact that the flight is only 13 hours. That´s right, I have discovered time travel and will be skipping March 3rd this year. I never cared for that date anyway, so no big loss. We´ll see how the jet lag pans out...

While I´m definitely looking forward to getting to New Zealand and shamelessly abusing Mike and Ashley´s hospitality in Dunedin when I arrive, I´m also sad to be leaving the Americas, which have proved both challenging and amazing. For now, I´m chilling in Mendoza again en route back to Santiago for my flight on the 2nd and trying very hard not to spend money since I´m already outrageously overbudget for this leg of the trip.

I have to say Argentina was a stand out for me, for any number of reasons, but particularly because they have solved three problems that affect me regularly in my Canadian life:

1) Serviettes. Here, there is a cloth napkin for your lap and then a supply of paper (or plastic) napkins on the table. This solves my long term dilemma over shuffling the one serviette I´m given in Canada between my lap and the table.
2) Individual servings for purchase at the grocery store. I can buy just one yogourt, or just one granola bar. I don´t have to buy the club pack of anything.
3) Most importantly, they have invented ice cream delivery services here. I can´t tell you the number of times I bemoaned the unavailability of this service when I was too lazy to drive 20 minutes to the nearest DQ or Baskin Robbins.

That´ll be the last post from the Americas, my readalongers. And if anything really important happens on March 3rd, pass it on.

Argentina - Mar del Plata - Vacation from Vacation

Ah yes, it´s good to get away from the daily grind of seeing amazing new places and cultures.

Actually, it felt a bit weird taking a vacation from my year long vacation, but we have been in forests, deserts, mountains and urban cities for awhile now, and we can´t have the beach feeling neglected now can we?




The bus ride here was up to par for service and quite pretty - the sky here is the same colour as the Argentina flag, very pale blue because the sun is so bright. And picture those endless Saskatchewan wheat fields and replace the wheat with sunflowers. Not too shabby, having sunflowers as far as the eye can see.

Mar del Plata was literally the colour of silver even in the sun. Hopeful fishermen (and I say fishermen because we didn´t see one chick fishing in four days of walking the boardwalk) lined the boardwalk casting off into the surf, but we didn´t see any successes.

The most entertaining part of this city was the party buses. There were almost ten of them lined up on one side of the oceanside plaza, aglow with tacky Christmas lights, packed full of hyper kids, weary parents, shouting hosts, and characters such as Winnie the Pooh, Mickey, Goofy, Snow White, Barney and Spiderman. They then take the tourists on a party drive around the city, dancing and singing all the way. Highlights include seeing Snow White getting crunk to Rompa by Daddy Yankee and other Reggaeton gems, and being swarmed myself by 2 dancing Barneys and a Spiderman while walking on the sidewalk while Mick continued on ahead completely oblivious. Thanks a lot, Australia. Clearly on your game.

One serious downside was some incredibly disappointing meals. I went to bed still hungry two nights in a row after some sad pizza and dodgy fish meals. Made me all the more excited to go back to Mendoza on our way to Santiago, where the food was excellent everywhere we went.

And naturally before leaving the beach, I did get a sunburn. A nice raw one across both shoulders, right where the backpack sits. Great.

Argentina - The Sandwich Intervention

Dear Argentina,

We need to talk. About your obsession with sandwiches. Now I love sandwiches as much as or more than the next person, but you´ve taken it to a pathological level.

Let´s start with your triples. They are very upsetting. There is so much more you could do with a sandwich than square layers of sanddust tasting white bread with the crusts cut off with probably unrefrigerated ham and overly salty cheese. And for heaven´s sake, let´s go easy on the mayo, shall we?

And when you´re not mass producing the triples on a frightening scale, you´re putting full, otherwise appealing meals onto bread and calling it a sandwich. Like the lomito. Steak is amazing as a main course. Why can´t you leave it be? Put down the white flour, put down the yeast. The white bread is not a plate... you don´t have to serve everything on it.

I just wanted you to know that I´m concerned. Sandwiches can be amazing, delicious meals when employed with some discretion and tasty toppings. Just not for every meal, ok?

Regards,

Me

P.S. And seriously, lay off the triples. I may never want ham and cheese again.

Argentina- San Carlos de Bariloche - Bumper Cars and Pricey Chocolate

We drove through guess what?



That´s right, more desert (and deserted) mountains in making our way south from Mendoza to Bariloche in the Lakes Region. Bariloche is known as the gateway to Patagonia, so technically we made it to Patagonia on our trip. Very technically. To be fair, as we neared our destination, lakes started appearing in the desert around us, but the trees were shy and only really showed up once we were in town.

Bariloche itself is a postcard ski resort town. It sits picturesquely on a lake ringed with mountains (with the slightest dusting of snow on toop). Its streets are lined with flowery trees, chocolate and ice cream parlours and outdoor sport stores. It took Mick and I all of 5 seconds to decide we were going to get bored here pretty quick, so our first afternoon activity was booking a bus elsewhere. While Bariloche was central to the Lakes region and some spectacular hiking in national parks, in order to get to said parks, more bus transportation was required. And that was just not in the cards. And since this leg of the trip is winding down, we´ve become a bit more budget conscious. Plus, it was cold. Not Canada cold, but coming out of 30+ Mendoza to 10 degree Bariloche was a bit harsh. Know what destination came to mind for us? The beach. So we booked tickets to Mar del Plata, a big oceanside resort city on the Argentina coastline.

In the mean time in Bariloche, we figured we should try some of this legendary chocolate of the region, seeing as there was literally a chocolate factory or shop on every block in the town. And then we looked at the price tags. The record holder was Mamuschka chocolate at $50 per kilo! No joke.

My other favourite incident was watching the locals parallel park on rather steep hills. One guy had gotten a bit boxed in and was doing a seventeen point escape from his parallel parking spot. However due to the incline and his obviously standard car with rollback complications, it was inevitable that he hit one of the other two cars. Much to my amazement, he shamelessly backed up into the car behind him, bumping it back up the hill to gain the space he needed to exit. This explains so much about the scratched up bumpers on all the cars in Argentina...

Argentina - Mendoza - Perfect.

After sitting down to do some serious bus and budget calculations, Mick and I concluded that our time and money would go to better use if we didnt go as far south as we had originally planned. So we veered east from Santiago and put Argentina back on the itinerary. And what a fabulous decision that was.

After our desert ordeal, we were more than ready to chill out and where better to do that than the wine capital of Argentina, Mendoza?

Mendoza didnt have any particular sights or activities or events in the four days we spent there, so I dont have any funny stories. Let me sum up an average day for you and then youll see, there are far worse places to do nothing than Mendoza:

Imagine a beautiful summers day with a sunny sky and 32 degree weather and mandatory siestas from 1-5pm. Stroll along wide sidewalks shaded by trees and littered with patios as far as the eye can see. Throw in a big grassy plaza with fountains every four blocks. Add delicious restaurants serving awesome pastas and steak and excellent $6 bottles of wine.



Perfect.

Chile - Santiago - Deja Vu and Street Fights

I boarded the Tur bus to Santiago with a good deal of anxiety. No, maybe it was despair. When is 24 hours on a bus ever something to look forward to?


Oh, it is more than bearable in Chile or Argentina:



The cama seats we had almost fully reclined, with an angled leg rest and more space than first class seats on a plane.



I had a very great nights sleep, reasonably good meals-snacks, and watched a number of episodes of Fresh Prince and the Nanny. Mick and I both agreed that push come to shove, we could have stayed on for longer if needed. It was that comfy.

We stayed right downtown in Santiago for two nights to get our laundry under control and to give ourselves a break from transit. I had expected Santiago to be on the European side. But that wasnt quite it. As we wandered around with street cars and city transit bustling on the roads and parks between malls and busy sidewalks, I couldnt shake a sense of familiarity. And then I got it - Santiago uncannily reminded me of downtown Toronto, if Toronto had more Spanish colonial churches around. Very strange.

After so much time in the desert, I was anxious to lay eyes on some green scenery. Santiago is ringed with mountains, like La Paz, but without the incredible steepness of streets. There was a river through the city, which we walked to, only to be disappointed by a half foot trickle of muddy water littered with garbage and dog carcass. The area around the universities was pretty nice with a big pedestrian promenade full of artsy shops, patios and cafes.

Most remarkable moment was when Mick and I were walking back to our hostel in the middle of the day, going about our business, when a rather shady possibly homeless older man... um, not super sure how to describe this but... dance-attacked Mick. It wasnt quite a punch, it wasnt quite a dance step, lets call it a feint. Totally out of the blue. We were totally confused and unsure whether to be alarmed or to laugh. So weird. He left off after a few minutes, but seriously - what??

Chile - San Pedro de Atacama - I'm So Over the Desert

Our driver Edgar dropped (ditched?) us on a bus at the Bolivian border. We were told it would be up to a 4 hour wait to drive to San Pedro in Chile. One small revolt on the part of several passengers hurried the driver along and we were on our way in an hour.

Now Mick and I had been looking forward to parking it in San Pedro for a few days to get a break from moving vehicles. We were even talking up local activities such as sandboarding and sunset tours of the Valle de la Luna to our new friends from the Uyuni tour, Sebastian, Lisa and Sebastian. Not a typo. There were two Sebastians.

But then we drove into San Pedro and saw four by four streets of a dusty red sand town. Yes! More desert!



I was trying to think of a way to break it to Mick that I would cry if we had to spend anymore time in the desert when he taps me on the shoulder and asks if I would mind very much if we went straight to Argentina that afternoon. That is why I like traveling with this guy. We are usually on the same page.

Alas, our escape was not meant to happen that day. Trips to Salta, Argentina only left every three days and we had just missed it. We scouted other options and the best we could do was a 24 hr overnight haul to Santiago the next afternoon. While I cried a fair bit on the inside at the thought of 24 more hours on a moving vehicle after almost a straight week of transit, I hated the idea of staying any longer in the desert more.

San Pedro had a lot of potential for fun for those who hadn't just emerged from the desert and hadnt had access to a shower in three days. But it was not for us at that time. Best part of the less than 24 hours we spent there was the 2 Cristal beers I had in the afternoon when we arrived and the amazing steak I had for dinner.

Worst part was jumping into the promised hot water shower before bed at the hostel to find out that the water only ran from 6-9am and usually ran out by 5pm. I have never felt more cheated or desperate to see a tree or a body of water. By 4pm the next day as I boarded the bus I was more than happy to say Sayonara to San Pedro.

Bolivia - Uyuni - Part Two: Rooftop Chicken and the Flying Dutchman

Now on this whirlwind tour by Jeep of the Bolivian desert, I have already mentioned the cooler with no ice. What I failed to mention was that on top of the cooler with no ice was a plastic grocery bag. Contents - two raw chickens. Huh. Coincidentally, chicken was the main course for dinner that night. Even Mick was enthusiastic to embrace a vegetarian diet for the rest of the tour seeing the grey meat on the plate. Our fellow passenger Sebastian was more adventurous and ate said chicken that had sat on the 45 degree roof for hours in the sun before being cooked. And boy was he sorry the next day. ALL DAY.



Part way through the morning on day two, on our way to see a volcano, we came across a flood on the plains. Being told it was dangerous to cross alone as a vehicle because the road would sink, we waited on two other Jeeps to join us.


The second in the caravan was the red Jeep (which would later break down every 200m for the last four hours of their drive), who was accompanied on this trip by a biker, who we nicknamed the Flying Dutchman:



Surprise surprise, he is Dutch, and was working his way from New York to Tierra del Fuego on his motorcycle. Very impressive. However, he was also a teensy bit bipolar and tended to curse you out as easily as he told a story about biking through Colombia. Kind of hit or miss.

The third car in our caravan was the black Jeep. We learned from two irate Aussies in that car that the driver was new, not just to the salt tour, but to driving full stop. He in fact could not reverse the car. And it was an automatic. Yikes. So obviously, we had lucked out with our driver Edgar (who as it turned out was the owner of Colque tours... right).

I had seen enough cars bogged down offroading that I was relieved to know Edgar knew what he was doing. Until Mick pointed out that none of the three cars had a shovel or recovery equipment of any kind. Super. Thanks Mick. Cant you let me enjoy my false sense of security for even a nanosecond? It turned out not to matter, since ten minutes into driving through the flooded plain, Edgar decided it was too dangerous and redirected everyone to a detour route. So no volcano again. Im convinced its fated that Mick and I and a volcano can never be in the same place at the same time, since this was our fourth effort to see one.

The rest of the day was spent stopping at Laguna this and Laguna that. There were some flamingos, which were cool, but not whole day amusement kind of cool. Really, day two was a bit of a let down all in all.

Day three was mostly just an absurdly early morning. We were packed up in the FREEZING cold Jeep at 5am (for reference, everyone was huddled together in coats and blankets in their seats for at least two hours... and the blankets came outside with us when we stopped for photos). Except we had a tiny delay. Red and Black Jeeps were having issues. Black Jeep was dealing with a mutiny, as the Aussies were demanding to drive the car since their driver was so inexperienced. Red Jeep´s driver was still drunk from the night before, although our driver claimed ´he always walked stumbly like that´. Terrible lies. Anyhow once that was sorted, off we went. Saw some geysers, which were surprisingly loud and just as smelly as I imagined. I cant believe I got up at 5am to watch the earth pass gas. Really?

The landscape improved from there... we drove through the ´countryside of Dali´, i.e. the land where surrealist artist Salvador Dali got his inspiration.



The rocks and mountains are straight out of his paintings... or the other way around I guess. Very beautiful.




Another highlight was the Stone Tree, a rock thats eroded from wind and water into the shape of a tree.










There were also some hot springs that looked very inviting, but I was just too damn cold from the morning to even think about a swimsuit. Mick assures me it was worthwhile. The tour ended at Laguna Blanca with cheese sandwiches for breakfast. Yum, right? On Bolivian bread. Sigh.

Bolivia - Uyuni - Part One: You Know It's Too Hot Outside When The Aussie Starts Complaining

Several cranky hours later, we pulled into the town of Uyuni at about 5am. Almost instantly, Mick and I were justified in our decision to go straight into the tour instead of overnighting it in town and heading out the next morning. Uyuni was about four streets large, with no shops opening until 9am. If theres one thing to make a sleep deprived Holly even more cranky, its hunger. I havent been so glad to see breakfast in quite some time.

We booked the three day 4WD tour of the salt flats that would get us to the northern Chilean town of San Pedro de Atacama with Ripley Tours. Yep, just as sketchy as it sounds. It actually turned out to not matter - when they can´t fill up a Jeep, they merge with other companies anyways. In fact, none of the people in our Jeep even booked with the operator, Colque Tours. Go figure.





Day One was pretty cool, although much of the amazement of the Salar, the salt flats, was dimmed by my overwhelming exhaustion from not sleeping the night before. The Salar is 200 square km, 12 feet deep, with salt as far as the eye can see. We began by seeing the Train Cemetery, a glorified junkyard that was incredibly unimpressive. It was the site of the first rails between Bolivia and Chile and they used to build and repair all the cars there. Now its a railway, some rusty old cars and a whole lot of desert plains.

The salt flats were very cool, though blinding. Is there such thing as salt blindness? Was very glad for my sunglasses, though even they weren´t enough at times. We learned lots of trivia about salt production, none of which I can remember now, but mostly we just took pictures.

Four stops later, we finally got to the lunch stop, where we became familiar with meal expectations for the next three days. The driver pulls out a cooler. With NO ICE. From which he removes pork chops, cheese, pasta, veggies and ketchup. Now I had some delicious eats in Copacobana, some mediocre in La Paz, but Uyuni tour food was the pits. Ive taken to referring to stale white bread as Bolivian. That is how often the bread was not delicious. I picked at the pasta and veggies and steered clear of the sketchy meat.

Our driver then informs us that we have an hour and a half to explore and hike our current location, the Isla del Pescado, so named because it is shaped like a fish. Let me paint the picture for you... middle of a salt desert, blinding sun and salt, middle of the summer daytime heat, and cactus shade only. Mick and I parked it in the car for almost that entire time. If its too hot for the Australian to be outside, it is definitely no place for my northern icicle self. Thermometer informed us that outside the car in the sun, it was over 45 degrees.

Bolivia - La Paz - Uphill All Ways

Sitting on a smelly bus from Copacobana to La Paz was not the afternoon I had in mind after leaving Isla del Sol, but the surprises didnt end there. Half way into the ride, the bus stops and the bus jockey kicks everyone off with no explanation.

I hunted him down outside the bus to figure out what was going on, to be told that we had to be ferried across the lake in boats separately from the bus. One trend in Bolivia is that Bolivians will think of a toll for you to pay to do anything. Watching the bus get ferried across was fairly entertaining though.

The outskirts of La Paz were not promising - dusty shacks as far as the eye could see. And distressingly, there were mannequin-scarecrows nailed up on a lot of the telephone and power posts. I dont know why. But they were creepy. And then we turned a corner and BAM! La Paz center nestled into a big fabulous mountain valley. As far as city vistas go, this was pretty sweet. Made me forget all about the creepy stuffed humans on poles.



We only had one day to spend in La Paz, as Mick and I had agreed we would rather spend more time in other places further south, so we took a good wander around town, which mostly took so long because with everything going uphill, its hard to work out which direction youre going or where you came from.

The highlight of this stop was the coca museum. For those of you who know the Australian, you will already be familiar with his general distaste for museums and galleries, so you may be surprised. We spent a good couple of hours there. The museum was comically small - two rooms and an upstairs cafe, but very quality. For the $1 admission, we learned about the entire history of the coca plant in a very balanced narrative that addressed both the profound cultural significance of the plant to Andean culture as well as the dangers and problems of its derivative drug cocaine. I also learned that precolumbian civilizations in South America were able to sail across the Pacific to Tahiti in reed boats. Not really related to the coca plant, but cool trivia nonetheless.



After educating ourselves at the museum, we then wandered around the witches market. Yes, actually. You could buy anything there from potions to amulets to dried llama fetuses, which are buried under new homes to bring good luck.




All that walking was intended to make us tired, as we had a 12 hour overnight bus to Uyuni to catch that night. While my expectations of Bolivian buses and roads were clearly lower than those in Peru, I have to say it was the worst bus ride so far. Not the worst bus ever, but bad enough. Although the seats were semi cama, and thus reclined a very reasonable amount, the design of the chair was such that you slid right out of the seat if you lay reclined. And the windows were sealed shut, yet I had a wall waterfall next to me in the window seat that soaked right through my blanket and created a puddle on the floor (making the sliding all the worse). They did play a movie for us (Death Sentence with Kevin Bacon) in which everyone gets shot. Nice bedtime pick. I opted to watch the massive thunderstorm outside the window (source of wall waterfall), and the lightning striking the altiplano was pretty cool. But the charm wore off by hour five, when I was still awake and not very happy about it.

Now we had been told there would be a stop for dinner. I assumed it would be around 10 since the bus left at 6pm. So I stayed awake. Big mistake. Stop wasnt until 1am, when the bus literally pulled over in a field. Which happened to have a roofed building with food carts inside. Nice. I grumbled my way finally to sleep once back on the bus, thinking Id at least get 5 or 6 hours in before reaching Uyuni. Not so much. The road from Oruro to Uyuni was awful. Not like Costa Ricas roller coaster roads - this felt like the bus was literally driving over boulders right and left. The bus would literally tilt on an angle that raised concern the bus would roll over. Not conducive to sleep at all! And we were headed right onto the salt flats tour of Uyuni that very morning. Which was so very unfortunate for Mick, since all many of you know, Holly who has not slept is not a happy camper at all.

Bolivia - Isla del Sol, Lake Titicaca - Worth the Climb

Getting to and from Isla del Sol from Copacobana was eventful to say the least. We got up early to have a leisurely breakfast before getting on the ferry at about 7am. Only to discover that nothing opens until 8am. Then hanging around on the sidewalk outside our potential breakfast cafe, I was horrified to watch a taxi run over one of the stray dogs on the street about 2m in front of me. The dog miraculously wasn´t killed, but somewhat traumatizing start to the day.



A nearby cafe finally opens and we leap at the chance for breakfast. To be served jam, butter and coffee laced with ants. Day not improving.




And when we arrive at the island 2 hours later, we are greeted by a very disheartening Inca staircase up a respectably steep cliff. I thank myself every day for underpacking my big bag. Did I mention this is still at 4000+m altitude?





30 minutes of hard lung work later, we arrive at Hosteria Las Islas, whose balcony had a phenomenal view of the lake and the Bolivian mountains in the distance:



Alright, I thought, I wouldn´t want to climb those stairs again, but it was worth it. While we probably could have done just a day trip since the island is fairly small, the overnight expedition proved worthwhile in terms of photos alone. The island does lack a bit story wise.

That night, I was having a very nice moment watching the moon rise over the lake.



Until our next door neighbours in the hostel managed to disrupt the serenity of the night with bad techno, too many playings of Katy Perry´s Hot and Cold, a breaking of a big bottle of rum, and alcohol poisoning-related ailments throughout the night.

And then came the rain. We had seen the lightning across the lake rolling in. The storm lasted all night and the rain and hail just kept going in the morning. For those of us taking the 11am ferry back to mainland, this was not good. For those same people who had to descend the evil Inca staircase of the day before that converts into a waterfall in rainy weather while sopping wet, this was worse. For one particular individual of this group who has atrocious depth perception, general clumsiness and poor footing, this was a nightmare.

That being said, I eventually did make it down the evil river staircase, ankles unsprained. Meanwhile Mick was practically racing down the stairs in skate shoes. He must be part mountain goat, I swear.

Best part - on the return ferry on the choppy waves, we sat across from the still very hungover neighbours from the hostel, who literally were turning green as the boat puttered across the channel. If I hadn´t been so worried that they might throw up on my shoes, I´d have laughed.

Bolivia - Copacobana - Wait, HIGHER than Cusco?

The Julsa bus from Arequipa was nowhere near as cool as Cruz el Sur. Compact is the word. It took us to Puno, Peru on Lake Titicaca where we changed buses to go to Copacobana, Bolivia on the south shore of the lake. Or so we thought... 15km shy of Copacobana, the bus pulls over in Yunguno, the border town in Peru. We are directed to get our exit stamps, fill in Bolivian entry forms, etc. Then presumably back on the bus.

Nope.

Instead we are handed our bags and instructed to walk over the border to Bolivia and check in with immigration and customs there. Where the bus will meet us?

Nope.

So into a taxi we went.

Highlight of this stay was the views from the Calvario, the nearby mountain-hill (depends on if you ask me or Mick what it was - my lungs maintain it was a mountain since it sits at 4000+m above sea level, although we didn´t have to climb 3800 of those meters). Unfortunately, although we climbed it with ample time to catch the sunset over the lake, the clouds rolled in and I got the shakes I was so cold with the wind up there.

Although there wasn´t tons to do in Copacobana, I really liked it. Lots of streets to wander around, open air markets and obligatory plazas around, etc.


Trivia fact of the day - they have their cars blessed at the main cathedral twice a day, decorating them with flowers and ribbons and what not.

Peru - Arequipa - Three Things

Alright, it was pouring rain when we arrived in Arequipa, on the southern coast of Peru. And it kept pouring rain on and off all day. So we booked a bus out of there for the next day. So here are the three things that will stand out about Arequipa for me in memory...

1) Sweet bus ride there. We went with Cruz el Sur bus line, which had amazing reclinability, hostesses, meals, blankets, movies, bingo, bathrooms, etc. Greyhound Canada, you need to seriously step up your game.

2) Delicious Crepes. We wandered into the cafe in the local Alliance Francaise where crepes were the specialty on order. Here´s what made it into the crepes on our table off the menu - indian curry chicken, caprese salad and of course dessert crepes!

3) Wet Laundry. Our laundry was sent in at 9am. It was still soaked at 10pm, and at 4am when we got up to go to the bus station. My dental floss has come in very handy as makeshift clothes lines.




To be fair, Arequipa could have been really interesting on a sunnier day, since the buildings are all made of sillar, a volcanic stone that looks eerily lunar. But on a grey day, it all just looks grey.

Also, there was some serious shopping potential for those so inclined (ahem, Michael!), but the rain was a total damper.

Peru - Aguas Calientes and Machu Picchu - The Peruvian Gold Mine

Train between Cusco-Aguas Calientes (Machu Picchu Pueblo) = $48USD each way
Bus between Aguas Calientes-Machu Picchu site = $7USD each way
Entry fee to Machu Picchu = $13USD (and thats the student price, $23 for regular entry)
Bottle of water = $5USD

Now multiply that by a thousand visitors a day. I think I know how Peru sustains its economy.

But still, you cant go to Peru and NOT go to Machu Picchu. Since its the wet season and the Inca Trail, the most popular 4 day hike into the area, is closed for February, there werent nearly as many tourists as there might have been. We managed to catch a 7am bus up the mountain. And as hideously expensive as it is, Machu Picchu is really cool. And HUGE. I really didnt have any sense of how big it was from its pictures. It sprawls across three summits and quite a few Incas would have lived there.



I had deep respect for the snowbird seniors making their way around the site with their walking sticks, as I was huffing and puffing and watching my step on some precarious rock staircases. The huffing and puffing actually yielded the benefit of stopping frequently to ´admire the scenery´(by which I mean catch my breath), otherwise my most clear memories of these ruins would be staring at the stairs beneath my feet the whole time!

Mick had brought me around on attempting to hike Huayna Picchu, the neighbouring peak, as the views were said to be spectacular. However, apparently other people had heard this rumour and beat us to the punch. Turns out they only let 400 people per day hike that trail to protect it and by 930 am, the mountain was already closed. Although genuinely disappointed, I was also just the teensiest bit relieved... the Andes are rather steep cliff faces near the tops. Not easy hikes.

And maybe the Canadian Rockies have spoiled me, but I didnt find the train ride through the Andes nearly as magnificent as Lonely Planet had led me to believe. The Andes are cool in their own way, since theyve eroded in really interesting shapes and so are still nice to look at, but the landscape in Peru is very brown. Lima was desert brown where we landed, the river Urubamba here in the mountains is brown with dirt, and the Andes are brown at the summits. I like a good snow cap on a mountain myself.

One other point where I diverge with the Lonely Planet... they slammed Aguas Calientes as a really awful tourist trap. Granted I would never shop at their markets, which were triple the prices of Cusco. It is certainly overpriced and not the prettiest town with all the construction, but it was still nice enough with the river running through the center of town, lots of walking promenades and nestled right in between some lush forested Andean mountains. Too harsh, LP, too harsh.

Peru - Cusco - Cuisine and Crazy Side Effects

Before leaving San Jose, I did manage to meet up with Will for an incredibly short visit, which was great but too short. Best we could manage under the circumstances though. My favourite was that once he had finished asking after all our friends back in Ottawa, his next inquiry was about Dirienzos and whether their amazing sandwiches were still only $3.50. Cant blame him, I would also consider that a priority issue of concern.

The sadder moment of this night was when I was getting ready to hop in the shower and realized I had managed to forget my quick dry towel and 2 pairs of socks in La Fortuna, much to Micks amusement. I am notoriously absent-minded, but on this trip, I have been trying extra hard to double check when I leave a room. Apparently not hard enough. At least it wasn´t my passport (except Mick is holding on to it. Come to think of it, he may have confiscated it from me...).

We flew into Lima, Peru and spent the night at a very average hostel close to the airport. Why? Because for reasons unclear to us, we booked flights to Cusco for 5am. I continue to puzzle over why we went for such an absurdly early flight, considering I am adamantly against being awake between the hours of 3-5am. That is no mans land. You should not still be awake from the night before and you should NOT be waking up to start your day. And yet... hmmm. We arrived in Cusco at 7am and ready for bed. We lucked out and found a hostel that let us in even that early in the morning and I crashed. For twenty minutes, when BOOOOOOOM! Mick and I stared at each other. BOOOOM! BOOOM! As our luck would have it, there´s some kind of water festival on this whole week, which is celebrated with remarkably echoing fireworks at 730 am and 10pm every day. Sweet.... not. Once the initial shock wore off, I slept till noon.

We went exploring for the afternoon and you know what? I quite like Cusco. It is very touristy, which I can forgive and since its getting into off season, its not crammed with fanny packs as it might be in the summer. Tons of Canadians running around here actually. Red roofs as far as the eye can see, really old school churches everywhere, llamas wandering around and sprawling markets of colourful blankets and accessories. Mick went on a bit of shopping spree... its so easy to shop in other countries. I restrained myself, since anything I buy I have to carry for another 11 months, but the alpaca gloves I bought for $2.50 were an excellent investment, since its really cold at this altitude at nighttime and Peru isn´t really into central heating.

Peruvian food almost deserves a whole post by itself. Before I get to rave reviews, I have to vent on the Andean Grill. After being assaulted by restaurant touts in the Plaza de Armas, this place won our business for dinner. The menu looked amazing and Mick and I both ordered the Rosemary Chicken Supreme. The free glass of wine with dinner was distinctly reminiscent of cranberry juice. Oh well, its free, I thought. The main course arrived and man, it smelled delicious. On a bed of perfectly whipped and seasoned mashed potatoes lay a juicy filet of chicken layered with Andean ham and melted mozzarella cheese, with a tomato rosee rosemary sauce drizzled around. And it tasted just as good.

UNTIL Mick discovered the middle of the chicken was ten kinds of raw. I literally spat out the bite I was chewing and upon investigation of my own filet, the same problem was discovered. My stomach turned and I couldnt even eat the potatoes off the plate. We booked it outta there and I consoled my hypochondriac tummy with saltines and water for the rest of the night. Seem to have escaped salmonella poisoning thank goodness. But that was enough to wreck my evening. Plus it poured rain on us the whole walk uphill back to the hostel too, so I was a bit of a crankypants by the time we got in. One much needed hot shower later, I was restored to mental sanity and Mick was no longer afraid to talk to me.

That being said, there is plenty of amazing to make up for the disgusting. I have to give a shout out to Jack´s Cafe for excellent pumpkin soup and incredible Ginger Lime Honey tea. Other culinary discoveries include cheap delicious alpaca meat from Inca Panaka restaurant and the menu del dia at most places, which allows you to order a small salad (I liked tomato in garlic best), big soup, main course (favourite was lomo saltado - roasted veggies with grilled meat and rice), and either a drink or dessert. Still havent ventured to try cuy al horno, which is guinea pig on a spit, since its pretty expensive here. Maybe in Arequipa (headed there today).

Now, since I randomly caught chicken pox, I have been rather conscientious about taking preventative medicines, so I have been taking my anti malaria meds and the anti altitude sickness drugs to the letter. As it turns out, Im rather vulnerable to side effects as well! The altitude meds, while doing an excellent job of preventing sickness, also cause intermittent pins and needles in my hands and feet. Really annoying. But worse is the malaria pills, because they are causing serious sleep issues, including but not limited to snoring, talking in my sleep on a conversation level and crazy dreams all night. Poor Mick. Ive become the worst roommate ever. Luckily I get to stop taking them, so the nights should get quieter again.