tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-58677377402924269292024-03-18T21:58:17.837-07:00Broudos unpluggedUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger143125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867737740292426929.post-45031741063222127402013-06-18T16:06:00.004-07:002013-06-19T08:20:14.701-07:00One last empanada for the road ...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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By the time March 31st came along, Marc and I had been traveling in South America for three months. Although our Spanish had hardly improved and we were still by all accounts strangers in a strange land, it was clear to both of us that we would be leaving, wanting for more. You can be sure this will not be our last South American adventure! <br />
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After a short visit to Cordoba, we returned to Buenos Aires for a few last days before boarding Holland America’s MS Veendam for our month long cruise back to North America. <br />
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To embellish on a Bob Dylan tune, on our final day in Buenos Aires, we had — one last “empanada/SA style pizza” for the road, in a famous neighbourhood eatery. It was Easter weekend, and Buenos Aries was packed with locals and tourists alike. The aroma of fresh basil on bubbling pizza and crispy pastry filled with meats and vegetables greeted us as we walked through the door. Hungry patrons lined the “standing only” tables, hardly taking a breath as they devoured the savory morsels in front of them. We soon joined in the eating frenzy, after figuring out how to order! It was a nice send-off for us, both the last truly South American meal, as well as the festive environment. <br />
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Our last night was booked at our favourite Hotel, the Park Silver Obelisco, so we had a chance to see Laura one last time and thank her again for taking such great care of us. <br />
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The next morning we packed our bags for the last time on South American soil and crossed the widest boulevard in the city to catch a cab to the Cruise terminal.<br />
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As I promised myself, I used the time aboard to catch up on my blog posts. And with this post I am writing now, I can finally tell myself that I have finished the task. I also have given myself permission not to detail the 34 day journey, since to be completely honest, I would probably be going on and on about the food and the entertainment on board, and very little about the ports. I know just admitting that is quite embarrassing, never mind actually following through on it! And if I am coming clean about everything, I have to also say that my camera was pretty idle for the last month even though I had it with me at all times on and off the ship. <br />
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You may get the impression from this long line of apologies, that the experience was mediocre. That couldn’t be further from the truth! <br />
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The Cruise was amazing. — Every second and every meal and every conversation with our fellow travelers. Even when we missed three ports due to bad weather and we all felt sea-sick, it was great. OK, we did get a bit frustrated when a lot of people got sick and our servers had to serve us our bread with gloves and tongs instead of us putting our germy hands directly in the bread basket … but that is hardly a complaint. <br />
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It was the perfect way to reach the other side of the world. And you can be sure this will not be the last time we use this mode of transportation! We arrived in Boston refreshed and clean! We hopped on a bus in Boston and a few hours later we were back in New York. A quick subway and we were back in Brooklyn safe and sound with Aaron and Melissa. <br />
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Even though there were not very many of them, it took until now to go through my photos. I decided that the best way to sign off from South America was to post the best of them from the last month of the trip — all in one post. <br />
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For a little context, here are the ports we visited: <br />
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Buenos Aires, Argentina, Montevideo, Uruguay, Puerto Madryn, Argentina, Strait of Magellan, Punta Arenas, Chile, Cockburn Channel CO, Beagle Channel CO, Glacier Alley CO, Amalia Glacier CO, Chilean Fjords CO, Puerto Montt, Chile TR, Valparaiso (Santiago), Chile, Coquimbo (La Serena), Chile, Callao (Lima), Peru, Salaverry (Trujillo), Peru, Manta, Ecuador VC, Fuerte Amador, Panama ON TR, Fuerte Amador, Panama TR, Panama Canal Balboa CO, San Blas Islands, Panama TR, Cruising San Blas Archipelago CO, Cartagena, Colombia, Falmouth, Jamaica, Georgetown, Cayman Islands TR, Fort Lauderdale, Florida, US, Boston, Massachusetts, US. <br />
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How about I let you figure out which photos are where?<br />
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What was very special about this trip was the opportunity to visit South America overland — and by sea. There are so many ways to see the world. We are glad we have added cruising to the mix!<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867737740292426929.post-62833967488169164872013-06-14T07:30:00.000-07:002013-06-14T07:30:26.527-07:00An Argentinean wonder that should not be missed: Iguazu Falls<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Hotels in Iguazu Falls come in two distinct categories. Big expensive all inclusive resorts which are outside of town on the way to the Falls and very basic hostal/hotels in town. When doing my research, neither seemed appropriate. We would be arriving late morning, so we decided to take our chances and see what was available once we arrived. In general, we like to be in the centre of things, close to restaurants and tourist information, so staying in town seemed like the best bet. <br /><br /> The town itself was far from amazing. It was quite hot and we had our bags to drag around with us. I stopped in at several less than appetizing hotels before we made our way to an apartment hotel recommended to us by someone at the bus station. Funnily enough the addition of a small refrigerator was enough to designate the basic room we were shown as an apartment — but it would do for a night or two. <br /><br /> Entrance to the Park and the Falls was by a day pass, and we had already lost part of the day, so we spent the rest of the afternoon and evening getting acclimated to our new surroundings. We took a nice walk to a high spot in the town where we could view the point where two rivers join. From there you could also see the not so far off lights of Paraguay. We walked back into town and had dinner and called it an early night.<br />
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The next morning we made our way to the bus station, where busses leave every half hour for the Iguazu Falls National Park where an amazing wonder awaited us. We had been told that it takes a full day to visit all of the different areas of the Park, so we got an early start. We were a bit nervous that we may be headed for Disney Land and prepared to be disappointed. Our visit to Niagara Falls had been a bit shocking last summer so we were ready for almost anything. <br /><br /> I am glad to report that we were very pleasantly surprised to find an absolutely wonderful park with lovely walkways to several vantage points of one of the world’s most spectacular attractions! There were a lot of tourists to share the experience with, which took a bit of patience, but we had all day and we took advantage of the time we had to marvel at mother nature and the be dumbstruck by the power of rushing water. We both snapped a lot of photos and took many movies. None capture the experience of being there, but here are a few from that very memorable day.<br />
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We got back on a bus at the end of day and returned to the town of Iguazu falls, stopping at the bus station to book our bus to Cordoba with a stop at San Ignacio.<br />
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San Ignacio was one of the large complexes of the Franciscan monks who came to this part of Argentina in the mid 1600’s into convert the local indigenous peoples to Christianity. We found, once we arrived that the region is full of the ruins of these massive walled Monasteries/indigenous villages. We only had a few hours between buses, so we could not visit any of the others, but we none-the-less found the experience very interesting and the ruins quite impressive. <br /><br />After our visit, we hiked it back to the bus stop and caught our bus to Cordoba, our last stop before heading back to Buenos Aries. <br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867737740292426929.post-75885981355829283782013-05-21T14:39:00.003-07:002013-05-21T14:39:55.088-07:00Two glorious weeks in Buenos Aires<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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At first glance, we felt like we were in Times Square. And the comparison to New York does not end there. Buenos Aires is a very cosmopolitan city with amazing fine dining, Theatre and shopping of all descriptions. The city is made up of many neighborhoods, each with its own character. Although we later learned that it can be quite unsafe to do so, we enjoyed the city by foot, bus and subway without incident. We walked for hours from neighborhood to neighborhood stopping to window shop, and to enjoy the local cuisine. <br />
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Restaurant dining is less ethnic than in New York, but the experience is taken very seriously. Lunch begins at noon and lasts for several hours. As in Europe, dressing for lunch or dinner is a must and waiters are well trained and dressed for the occasion. Tables are beautifully set and each course is delivered with enough time to savor each morsel, and each sip of wine. You are never rushed to finish your meal and it is not unusual for the duration of each meal to last several hours. It took us a while to get used to this. <br />
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Also as in Europe, dinner starts late, so any hope of finding a good restaurant for dinner open at 6:00 is unheard of. After all, they just finished cleaning up the lunch crowd at 4:00!<br />
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The Park Silver Obelisco Hotel is aptly named, located on Buenos Aires’ largest boulevard just opposite the city’s towering Obelisk landmark. From our 5th floor hotel room, we had a view of the Obelisk and the huge traffic circle surrounding it and the amazing scene behind it. The boulevard called Cerrito, is certainly the widest boulevard in the city and has been called the largest in the world. We found that this is not at this point in time accurate, but it is so wide, that it takes two green light segments to get across it even if you are running to try to get all the way across in one light. The buildings on both sides of the street are towering in height and grand architecturally with large lit up billboards covering the top floors to remind you that you are in one of the world’s most impressive cities. <br />
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Buenos Aires is famous for Tango. Shows begin late and can be combined with dinner. There are many options, from small private theatres to large extravaganzas. Just a few blocks from our hotel was a beautiful old theatre and we decided to go for the extravaganza style show. We made the right decision! The show was electrifying and we were blown away by the performance. And the the dancers were accompanied by a full live orchestra.<br />
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We also took in a ballet at the Colon Theatre, which was also just a few blocks from our hotel. We were treated to a live orchestra again and a wonderful performance of several classical pieces as well as a couple of modern ones.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5Om2MLcUBJyHzrAeB4K3CzJfvlHhE17xvQwXA7wNzsG_5I5SQrWNgagQ-FRZs2KB1s48Ugiiq1CszWTISAnhVByYvcRJ3y6oIi3u4Z_CqryJpNpk7pamed2jerJ69yqnrDQvT1gLh8_iN/s1600/apple+reseller.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5Om2MLcUBJyHzrAeB4K3CzJfvlHhE17xvQwXA7wNzsG_5I5SQrWNgagQ-FRZs2KB1s48Ugiiq1CszWTISAnhVByYvcRJ3y6oIi3u4Z_CqryJpNpk7pamed2jerJ69yqnrDQvT1gLh8_iN/s1600/apple+reseller.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We took a trip to the one and only official reseller in BA. I had to take a photo ...</td></tr>
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As in New York, There are neighborhood street markets of all kinds, and we took in a Sunday craft and flea market in San Talmo. This market takes over the neighborhood each Sunday, closing the main street to traffic. Tables are setup and all kinds of goods are for sale. In the square, a bustling flea market is selling a colourful array antiques, gently and not so gently used clothing, and everything else you can think of. The local restaurants add outdoor tables and musicians have set up shop at street corners. And of course there is the smoke and aroma of the barbequed chorizos and fried onions wafting from the small openings in the fences leading to the inner courtyards where beer gardens are overflowing with weekend visitors.<br />
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On Saturdays, crowds take the hour-long train ride to Le Tigre, a suburb of Buenos Aires, for yet another massive market. This one is much more similar to Vancouver’s Granville Island, than New York’s typical street markets. The focus here is on shops opening up their doors and restaurants are filled to the brim with tourists and locals enjoying a family lunch together. There are boat rides and an amusement park for the kids. The train, part of the BA commuter network, takes you from the centre of the city through many bedroom communities until you reach Le Tigre.<br />
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The town itself is quite quiet when you arrive, but you simply follow the crowds till you reach the market. At some point in time, this area was a huge local produce market, but now there is no sign of fresh fruit. Instead there are dozens of Parillia (barbeque) restaurants serving huge piles of steaming meats and innards to your table on small coal fed barbeques. <br />
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We had always planned on staying in BA for a period of time. It is the kind of city that takes time to explore and after a few months on the road, it was a good place to just relax and catch up. We also wanted to plan the last weeks of our South America trip and book our return flight to New York. It was clear to both of us, that we had not crossed everything off our South American bucket list, but we had missed our window weather wise to spend any quality time in Patagonia and Antarctica was not in the cards for this year. So we resigned ourselves to making another go at this part of the world on another trip. And truthfully, we were tired. Or at least I was. <br />
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I am not sure why I even did this, but I found myself typing in a search for cruises leaving from Buenos Aires. Marc had been researching flights from BA to NY and had not found anything that was perfect timing wise or price wise, so I was trying to see what other options we had. The first thing that came up in my attempt was a 34 day Holland America cruise leaving BA on March 31st, arriving in Boston May 4th. <br />
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I guess the stars were perfectly aligned. It was about March 15th at that point, giving us two weeks to make our way to Iguazu Falls, San Martin and Cordoba with a couple of days left over to spend in BA before boarding the Holland America Veendam with 1200 other tourists! We took a couple of days to decide, but it was too perfect to miss. The cruise would take us down the Argentine coast, around the Straits of Magellan, up the Chilean fjords, and through the Panama Canal. We would get in a bit of Patagonia (albeit from the comfort of our cruise ship), and cross the Panama Canal off our bucket list. And best of all, we could unpack — and I would not have to book another hotel room for 34 nights! <br />
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But how were we going to deal with nine formal nights on board with our shleppy travel clothes and hiking boots?<br />
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That problem was solved with a couple of days of power shopping all over Buenos Aires! Our little hotel room was soon filled with shopping bags full of dresses for me, a suit, tie and dress shirt for Marc, proper footwear for both of us and some costume jewelry for me. We packed all of our party clothes into one of our travel bags to be left at the hotel in BA while we traveled north to Iguazu falls. Laura once again helped us out by booking us on an amazing bus (really first class with champagne olives and cheese as we were settling in and much more during the rest of the 12 hour ride) to Iguazu.<br />
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Our bus left late the next day. We spent our last day in BA doing a couple of walking tours, the last of which we did with travel bags in tow arriving at the bus station as we finished our tour. <br />
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For the next 12 hours we luxuriated in the comfort of our fully reclining seats and before we knew it we were well rested and in Iguazu falls. </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867737740292426929.post-88180739479172447322013-05-15T17:54:00.002-07:002013-05-16T07:57:29.537-07:00An apple a day ...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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After many days of searching in vain for a charger and one very long bus ride (17 hours loooooong) we had made it to Buenos Aires. The bus station was the first clue that we were in a big vibrant city. Although the lady behind the information booth at the bus station gave us directions to take a local bus, we decided to take the short cab ride to our hotel in Central Buenos Aires. <br />
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It was still quite early when we arrived at the Park Silver Obelisco Hotel. While we were waiting for the official check in time, Laura the very kind hotel receptionist took at least an hour out of her busy day to help us with our “Apple problem”. “Mercado Libre” is South America’s E-Bay equivalent. Between Laura and the bus boy, who had a better handle on the website, we had a lead on a charger within an hour. Things were looking up! <br />
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An email was sent to the seller and almost immediately, the seller had called the hotel and was speaking directly to Laura. After a fairly long conversation, with me chiming in to be sure we had the right charger, we had directions to (what we thought was) a shop in an area called Linieres — a subway ride plus a long bus ride and a short walk away from where we were staying. Laura wrote out clear instructions and even lent us her bus card so that we didn’t have to figure out how to obtain one. The most important detail was that we must arrive before 1:00 pm, so we had no time to waste. <br />
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Marc and I set out immediately on our first adventure in Buenos Aires, not knowing what we would find. There had been so many false starts that we tried not to be overconfident. We found the subway and figured out where to get off. Then hopped on a bus, asking the bus driver where to get off in broken Spanish. So far so good! After we got off the bus, we were a bit turned around, but with the help of a gas station attendant we found the street and the address. We found ourselves in front of an apartment building on a residential street and not a retail store as we had expected but we were not discouraged. <br />
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The first clue that we were in the right place was the name in the directory beside the apartment number we were given — mini.mac. I had to hold back a laugh as I buzzed. When a female voice answered through the intercom I gave her the password (which was “Laura”) and in a minute or two she came down and unlocked the door, took a quick look in both directions motioned us into the building’s foyer with a smile and closed the door behind us. It was a bit unnerving, but once I saw the charger in her hands, I was almost in tears with happiness and relief. We made the exchange — I gave her the money — she gave me the charger — and we were soon retracing our steps back to our lovely hotel in Central Buenos Aires! As simple as that! <br />
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I owe Laura a big debt of gratitude for saving the day and maybe even our whole trip. We stayed in four different hotels while in Buenos Aries, but Laura and all of the staff at the Park Silver Obelisco Hotel made us feel so at home and went out of their way in so many instances, that I have to say it was one of the best hotel experiences we have had in all of our travels. Without Laura, who knows how we would have managed. <br />
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With disaster averted, we settled in to enjoy everything Buenos Aires had to offer. </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867737740292426929.post-41953192288514330962013-05-10T08:54:00.000-07:002013-05-10T08:55:02.986-07:00 Apple Obsessed via: San Pedro, Salta, Cafajate and Tucuman<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghbeLrBVWzh0VWj3DEeC_Z0wPIpdrjaslsICNMNsQ_jZxl3xGggrJPL6iUjGO910qpPviLtKbfTVJujQeTd0ULuuGczh_xdjBJXfYaElmY7ZBuZLHQuZXHpsf3aIQPmLV0SWQedAGq_Yq6/s1600/San+Pedro_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghbeLrBVWzh0VWj3DEeC_Z0wPIpdrjaslsICNMNsQ_jZxl3xGggrJPL6iUjGO910qpPviLtKbfTVJujQeTd0ULuuGczh_xdjBJXfYaElmY7ZBuZLHQuZXHpsf3aIQPmLV0SWQedAGq_Yq6/s1600/San+Pedro_2.jpg" /></a></div>
I can’t lie. From the moment my daypack was stolen with my computer charger and camera charger, I could think of nothing else but getting to a place where I could replace them. I was possessed, cranky and inconsolable. We realized quite quickly that replacing my computer charger was next to impossible until we made our way to Buenos Aires which was very far away and there were a lot of places we had intended on visiting before getting there. Argentina is a very large country and we had planned on spending at least a month or more exploring it. <br />
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<i>(As an aside, it was also amazing to be in countries indifferent to the existence of apple products! It was truly culture shock of a new kind to ask electronic stores if they had any apple products and to realize that they had no idea what I was talking about. They are all walking around with smartphones and tablets of all descriptions, but none of them had the — oh so familiar — apple icon shining back at you). </i><br />
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There were moments I was ready to get on a plane and return to a world that had apple stores in every mall. It got that crazy. But sanity prevailed and Marc kept us on track, though he was pretty worried about me, and my crankiness … <br />
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Now back to the actual story … We got on the bus in Calama right after being robbed — there was nothing else to do — and arrived in San Pedro de Atacama, Chile a few hours later. The town was as charming as advertised and we tried to enjoy it for the next two days. My mood took a toll on my photo taking from this point on, so I have little to share. A sign I guess that my heart was not in it. And, of course, I had no charger so I was not sure how many more pictures I had before my camera would stop responding.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjja_Bj3X7PtFotOS5Y9G8w1rMZp23MZp38yDQPBHCGr1P5DjS3N_ZVmPDrs-AXfiWuIlMPB7zczMKQpBFNFjBfXBizN8JCS2GuS_bUddpodofBTHTZzZowbJknNrLoyBoLd0vVBVx_Grxn/s1600/San+pedro_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjja_Bj3X7PtFotOS5Y9G8w1rMZp23MZp38yDQPBHCGr1P5DjS3N_ZVmPDrs-AXfiWuIlMPB7zczMKQpBFNFjBfXBizN8JCS2GuS_bUddpodofBTHTZzZowbJknNrLoyBoLd0vVBVx_Grxn/s1600/San+pedro_1.jpg" /></a></div>
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After San Pedro we updated our itinerary to include larger towns — that may have an apple reseller! The first of these destinations took us across the Chilean border into Argentina to the charming city of Salta. The bus situation improved 100 fold since leaving Bolivia and our trip to Salta was very comfortable. On the way we saw some amazing scenery that we managed to take a few pictures of even in our state.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_AauKxjB0WJuzjDBow4Us1VHoIw0CT2OCZ_eOUSwzDdUW6b-ckFL6bvvFmgJq47SK6AdA40v5lPSP2Sd2qgSPQEKAL5V1a5ohwJ_jo9E0qTeKROBZpUziAqQecqnQmtYVeGWhaIUIGplm/s1600/San+Pedro+bus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_AauKxjB0WJuzjDBow4Us1VHoIw0CT2OCZ_eOUSwzDdUW6b-ckFL6bvvFmgJq47SK6AdA40v5lPSP2Sd2qgSPQEKAL5V1a5ohwJ_jo9E0qTeKROBZpUziAqQecqnQmtYVeGWhaIUIGplm/s1600/San+Pedro+bus.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Desert</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTIuyOSf0R4j91D1PhrKMtkiAjMEwR0uj7Mz5OJzSfGL_bSCzfJW4hCAsoKJnxoLBYrEuPkbA3IQOTEcEOJcaARnj6PP2JiwRFaMQ6MwO3Nt1fXSinbjM34gFxkDw2W0ZIROpoDnWoD_GK/s1600/saltflats.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTIuyOSf0R4j91D1PhrKMtkiAjMEwR0uj7Mz5OJzSfGL_bSCzfJW4hCAsoKJnxoLBYrEuPkbA3IQOTEcEOJcaARnj6PP2JiwRFaMQ6MwO3Nt1fXSinbjM34gFxkDw2W0ZIROpoDnWoD_GK/s1600/saltflats.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And Salt flats</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIqo7mhwx6Gh6xcdfzWa4KoZlY-1k_09QDXLG19Fv6gkvLDmOwPntVvpFtmICALrRUQ4FXf1X2jMROFZZl1XWi_tgV2QxMRu2PjYGrPORFfBl8NMSTHQ3YW8eKcl0UpNfl84Yc4oiLDxle/s1600/scenery.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIqo7mhwx6Gh6xcdfzWa4KoZlY-1k_09QDXLG19Fv6gkvLDmOwPntVvpFtmICALrRUQ4FXf1X2jMROFZZl1XWi_tgV2QxMRu2PjYGrPORFfBl8NMSTHQ3YW8eKcl0UpNfl84Yc4oiLDxle/s1600/scenery.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And beautiful green valleys</td></tr>
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We had booked two nights at the Hotel Ghala, located conveniently a short walk from the central bus station. The walk took us past a beautiful park around a small lake with food and craft vendors lining the pedestrian pathways. We loved it immediately and after finding our huge room at the hotel to our liking, we immediately booked another two nights to give ourselves a chance to thoroughly explore the city before heading to our next destination. <br />
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It was evening when we left the hotel to walk the few blocks to the Plaza de Armas. When we hit the square, it was already dusk and the beautifully lit Cathedral was breathtaking. In fact, everything was breathtaking. There were beautiful shops with interesting high-end souvenirs and lovely restaurants with outdoor seating. The temperature had risen several degrees and it felt like summer finally.<br />
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We managed to find a tourist information office open with a very nice English speaking person behind the desk. We asked our usual tourist questions and then asked the million-dollar question — ”Is there a computer store in Salta that sells apple products?” <br />
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Her answer was actually shocking and very sad for me. She went into detail about the new laws put into place a couple of years ago by the new President. The new law states that any electronic product sold in Argentina (all of Argentina) has to be at least in some part manufactured in Argentina. For that reason, Apple does not have any Apple stores in Argentina (and we soon learned in all of South America). There are some resellers and some online sites that purportedly sell Apple products, but the prices are very high and you really never know if you will get what you thought you were purchasing. <br />
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A cloud was forming over my head as we left the tourist information booth. We sat down for dinner at a very nice outdoor café. A glass of wine was in order. We decided we would spend the next day investigating for ourselves (the woman we spoke to gave us some leads on a few stores to visit to see if by chance they had a charger or knew where to get one). If our search did not bare fruit (of the a Apple variety), we were going to get on with enjoying Salta and forget about my charger for a few days. We spent the entire next day walking all through the downtown area of Salta with only blank faces staring back at us as we asked if they carried Apple accessories. With that we accepted defeat. I did manage to find a charger for my camera that day so at least I was back on track with my picture taking!<br />
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We spent the next two days enjoying the city. We walked the pedestrian
malls, visited the Cathedral and a few other Churches that were open. We
had some lovely meals. We did some window-shopping as well and enjoyed
the warm weather. Off of the pedestrian mall, was an extensive covered
market full of everything from clothing and shoes to restaurants and a
fruit, vegetable and meat markets. We took a walk down a few of its
bustling narrow streets and enjoyed a cold beer and empanadas. On the
food front things were improving with each day. We were certainly not
going to starve anywhere in Argentina!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We stopped at an empanadas bakery and ordered a dozen with a large bottle of coke. Then proceeded to eat them all in one sitting with the entire litre of coke! Yummmmm!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRLnejFJ-KaXj8l9eWq1mAoxTX_FEdEoeNTL0945d__iOKuMS3VfOIkQnLPIitFtPcvbEChrO1K87VqZN2Xfjc243i2OZTW4sW88pRItVlG0f4-XCqk-qNQveChvxfLWlcBnKPq-NGK6lk/s1600/street+market_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRLnejFJ-KaXj8l9eWq1mAoxTX_FEdEoeNTL0945d__iOKuMS3VfOIkQnLPIitFtPcvbEChrO1K87VqZN2Xfjc243i2OZTW4sW88pRItVlG0f4-XCqk-qNQveChvxfLWlcBnKPq-NGK6lk/s1600/street+market_1.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The covered market was incredible.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZDhU6qjRgnloXZ0WoLQY3EHCQbhkl5sw1W9hPwYA4y7Iv6uhPJbFdYYc7X6IqmFnvktIBeojWbie1pbFTMHiViG18sjAatdcWG8MK7iJl-0yOK2Nr8B0ueDGs54TlyxWozD5tnWOvlQFZ/s1600/view+from+the+top.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZDhU6qjRgnloXZ0WoLQY3EHCQbhkl5sw1W9hPwYA4y7Iv6uhPJbFdYYc7X6IqmFnvktIBeojWbie1pbFTMHiViG18sjAatdcWG8MK7iJl-0yOK2Nr8B0ueDGs54TlyxWozD5tnWOvlQFZ/s1600/view+from+the+top.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A view of of Salta from up high.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRyARgv08vRnzgYbywnqBvMJ6SsZbemRU6OzX4rtp4tTKxeo31lrxM4uo8-Nphifs2F9ri1W2pkYYoHrkBON5uu6KZzbgUtp27pfr3ZM9WQoTRk9tZ7JUMGa3qgr_ZTPeq0pl6q0XPOhWa/s1600/weaving.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRyARgv08vRnzgYbywnqBvMJ6SsZbemRU6OzX4rtp4tTKxeo31lrxM4uo8-Nphifs2F9ri1W2pkYYoHrkBON5uu6KZzbgUtp27pfr3ZM9WQoTRk9tZ7JUMGa3qgr_ZTPeq0pl6q0XPOhWa/s1600/weaving.jpg" /></a></div>
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Our four nights in Salta passed very quickly and we made plans to
take a bus into wine country. A small town called Cafajate (pronounced
Cafachate) was our next stop. When we lined up to get on our bus, we saw
a familiar face! Peter, who we had met and shared a wonderful day with
in Tupiza, was standing in front of us with his wide brimmed sombrero on
his head and a big smile on his face. He was headed to Cafajate as well
with a ticket on the same bus! As always, Peter was a great source of
information and we learned about a great day trip offered in Cafajate
that we all decided to book once we got there. <br />
<br />
Like San Pedro in Chile, Cafajate is a quaint town full of small shops and restaurants — and wine. After arriving in the bus station, we went our separate ways to get settled in our hotels and made plans to meet for dinner in the square. Peter had last been in Cafajate 12 years ago, but little had changed, and he felt at home immediately. Our hotel, Cerro de la Cruz, was a bit of a walk from the bus station, but it gave us a chance to see what the residential part of town was like. We got settled and met Peter later for a very enjoyable dinner in the Plaza de Armas. Cafajate is famous for their Torrontes white wine, so we of course had to give it a try. <br />
<br />
The tour we all took part the next afternoon was, by far, the highlight of our stay in Cafajate. The surrounding countryside is breathtaking and we spent four hours taking it all in. Here are the highlights in photos.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTMcsLvZ0NdZV-sqG3rgpjraEG-3nc0JGth0sarS7kRUFmmnFeJOPuX-7E5NZdUzuUrS2n5fUxHQDq8e7IgqLohwolOszHZl65ubUksEgiH9SfWlQueefiB2JYsK8PTUxWmQhnHsiYvP7n/s1600/hotel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTMcsLvZ0NdZV-sqG3rgpjraEG-3nc0JGth0sarS7kRUFmmnFeJOPuX-7E5NZdUzuUrS2n5fUxHQDq8e7IgqLohwolOszHZl65ubUksEgiH9SfWlQueefiB2JYsK8PTUxWmQhnHsiYvP7n/s1600/hotel.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our hotel</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I think this was a restaurant. It was closed when I was walking by it, but I had to take a photo!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ1NbyCPzf3H-qmkLiKprcW4qkxa3edK7_U9rgeaOrMYdWcrWP05ELaXh4AKORgtqNbbAPxYHv10F66mgqSn-TcJpBkJ1-j8VP09rc71WrOaJfT_2xXNszAjzT6JUzEVR8nDMAzYECIsQd/s1600/winery.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ1NbyCPzf3H-qmkLiKprcW4qkxa3edK7_U9rgeaOrMYdWcrWP05ELaXh4AKORgtqNbbAPxYHv10F66mgqSn-TcJpBkJ1-j8VP09rc71WrOaJfT_2xXNszAjzT6JUzEVR8nDMAzYECIsQd/s1600/winery.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cafajate is full of small wineries. This is one of them.</td></tr>
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We left Peter in Cafajate two days later and boarded a bus headed to Tucuman, yet another large Argentine city where we hoped to find my charger. Another long bus ride where a very hot and humid city awaited us — without an Apple reseller!!! <br />
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We had a comfortable night at a nice hotel in the middle of downtown Tucuman. By the next morning we realized it was time to stop the bleeding and go straight to Buenos Aires — which was a 17-hour bus ride away. That seemed like complete torture, but what could we do? My addiction to my computer had gotten the best of me. I was miserable and it had worn us both out. <br />
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To worsen our mood even further, we ended up walking to the bus station that morning in the midst of a rain-storm. There was kind of a flash flood going on, and the streets were immediately running with a foot of water everywhere we needed to cross a street. When we got to the bus station we literally had to wade through this rushing flood of nasty water carrying our travel bags over our heads to get across the street. We were soaked once we got there and sat down to catch our breath and change our shoes. It was definitely a low point. I sent Marc off to find us the best and most comfortable bus for our trip to Buenos Aires. And he came back with good news. We booked ourselves on an executive level (big leatherette seats that folded almost into beds, with meal and wine service onboard) bus which left a few hours later. <br />
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It took at least 17 hours, but we did make it to Buenos Aires. I even managed to sleep through a good deal of it. And thanks to Laura at the Park Silver Obelisco Hotel I had my new charger in hand within 6 hours! But that was a great story in itself so I will leave it for the next post. <br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867737740292426929.post-64272940568472914102013-05-07T12:06:00.002-07:002013-05-07T12:22:25.054-07:00It is a pit — literally<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSBB-nJiy0gswJ4VEmjYQApvQcWUJ4qjNrQJvK31Jcyz-ZVJKmj2zN3xKHyjDrR_CGWgO8SbNDDKjfLGynGR_PXQG1oZo2ARBva4I32ElOOOsGnn9CuKsIfN9SUCDRZwXjvezCVQ06pVQT/s1600/Open+Pit+mine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSBB-nJiy0gswJ4VEmjYQApvQcWUJ4qjNrQJvK31Jcyz-ZVJKmj2zN3xKHyjDrR_CGWgO8SbNDDKjfLGynGR_PXQG1oZo2ARBva4I32ElOOOsGnn9CuKsIfN9SUCDRZwXjvezCVQ06pVQT/s1600/Open+Pit+mine.jpg" /></a></div>
Calama, Chile is a mining town. It has no other claims to fame, at least until we arrived. The original town of Chuquicamata right next to it, was built to house the workers for what has become the world’s largest open pit mine. The entire town was abandoned in 2004 due to extreme pollution from the mine and all of the inhabitants moved to Calama. <br />
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We took a tour through the now abandoned Chuquicamata, with its beautiful Plaza de Armas, theatre, banks and schools. There was an eerie feeling driving through an empty, perfectly intact town. At first it was not clear to us why the town had been evacuated and left as a ghost town. Our tour was run by the national company that now owns the mine. Our guide waited until he had taken us through the whole town centre before explaining what had happened. Mining activities were simply getting too close to the town and it would no longer be safe for people to live there.<br />
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The huge copper mine is alive with activity 24 hours a day. Simply stated, the process is to blast holes in the pit and then big diggers arrive and are filled with rocks that are moved up to the top of the open pit on the roads built for that purpose. The rocks are broken down into smaller pieces to expose the copper and the waste rock is dumped all around the town creating artificial mountains. It is not clear what keeps the mountains from falling apart. I guess that is part of the worry about having a town too close.<br />
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Violet and I had many mining clients in our day and we saw a lot of photos of mining operations in South America and Africa. We learned a lot about the activities of mining companies in countries in far off lands and the reclamation process to return the landscape to its natural state. It was quite another experience to see this massive hole in the ground and all that was connected to it. The dimensions are so huge that even seeing it with my own eyes was hard to comprehend, especially seeing the man made mountains towering around us and knowing they were simply displaced waste rock from all of the digging in the pit. <br />
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We were told that there are at least 50 more years of life to this mine that they are sure of. It could be more. <br />
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The mine employs thousands of people. The jobs are well paid. And so it is not surprising you see all kinds of people in Calama from neighbouring countries that have made their way to Calama to get a piece of the action. The miners live in prefab houses and drive big SUVs. Big buses bring the workers to and from the mine site. It is an unreal kind of place. Coming from Bolivia, directly into this strange western environment took a bit of getting used to. <br />
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A visit to the mine was really all there was to see and do in Calama, so we decided right after our visit to head for the bus station to get a bus to San Pedro de Atacama, a quaint resort town just 2.5 hours away. <br />
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Looking back, there were other options that would have changed our fate that day. We could have taken a later bus, or even spent a second night there. Maybe we could have been better rested and more alert. Maybe the scam artist that targeted us would have been watching someone else. I think about that afternoon over and over again. Now more than a month later as I write this post it is clear to me that I will never forget those few minutes that changed our South American adventure. Although I have already written about the “calamity in Calama” and I have replaced the most important items stolen from us that fateful day, the experience has taken something much more valuable from me. From that day forward, I was less at ease and much more suspicious of the kindness of local people. Time, they say, heals all wounds and I hope I just need more of that. <br />
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For now we both refer to our visit here as the calamity in Calama!<br />
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(By the way, Calama is so non-descript and so unremarkable that I realized after leaving that I had not taken a single photo. I looked online today to see if I could fill in other peoples photos. The only photos I found were of the pit! Need I say more?)</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867737740292426929.post-45344868514855038522013-05-07T10:48:00.000-07:002013-05-07T10:48:48.049-07:00Another amazing tale — the journey from Bolivia to Chile<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw6fIvjILR2O2moehfNN0cNapKi0pT4_VIyMH1DtdPZl3E3BdywLuVLhc6wgRKNVpTvlKfw5hTB7uNQbGUNpBx5B-5q2l4r6xFSKDsq01g7IM2gtEEov3Jvfgmxvglch2u2SOhydkdKIMk/s1600/Untitled.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw6fIvjILR2O2moehfNN0cNapKi0pT4_VIyMH1DtdPZl3E3BdywLuVLhc6wgRKNVpTvlKfw5hTB7uNQbGUNpBx5B-5q2l4r6xFSKDsq01g7IM2gtEEov3Jvfgmxvglch2u2SOhydkdKIMk/s1600/Untitled.jpg" /></a></div>
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We purchased what we thought were the last two seats on the 4:00 am bus to the Bolivian/Chilean border and onwards to the mining town of Calama, Chile. Unfortunately, that meant several more hours in Uyuni — oh joy! We had found the only (and I mean only) nice hotel in this god-forsaken town and thankfully they had one room left. After we packed up and said our final goodbyes to Raoul and Noemi we moved over to our new digs, the Hotel Tambo Amaryo. We invited Bjorn and Joachim to join us so they could utilize the reception area to recharge their phones and computers. The hotel would not let us have guests in the room so we all sat in the reception area together for the rest of the afternoon. Considering that just a few hours earlier we were all suffering from food poisoning, it was quite miraculous that we were all feeling healthy. <br /><br /> Around 6:00 PM we gave our Swedish companions final hugs and off they went, as they say, into the dusty sunset, along the unpaved and garbage strewn road to the god-forsaken spot where their dilapidated bus awaited them. We, on the other hand, headed up to our lovely clean and modern hotel room for a luxurious hot shower in a private bathroom with fluffy white towels and toilet paper! Four days without any of this made the experience one to savour! <br /><br /> We managed to get a few hours of shuteye before our 3:15 AM wakeup call (Marc’s iphone alarm). Our hotel was about two blocks from the bus stop. It was 3:30 am when we left the hotel and the streets were dark and deserted. As we neared the bus stop, however, we saw a very large crowd of people boarding our bus which was already there waiting for us. I left Marc with our luggage and I made an attempt to board, to secure our seats at the very back of the bus. By the time I got up the stairs I could see that the bus was already completely full of people in each seat as well as dozens of people in the aisle. I could see our seats way at the back of the bus (with people in them), but it seemed impossible to get to them. No one was moving. A young Spanish speaker looked towards me and said something in Spanish, which I did not understand. Eventually he translated what he had said into English. “They have oversold the seats! If you have paid for your ticket, you have to push through all of the people to get to your seats.” he explained motioning to me to push forward. <br /><br />This was easier said than done. As I have described in previous “bus” posts, people who board the bus with the intention of standing bring all of their luggage with them in the form of woven blankets full of stuff or just wrapped boxes and misc parcels of all shapes and sizes which end up in the aisle. They are also not, may I add, necessarily small people. I worked my way over and around many obstacles to get to the back of the bus and finally into our seats. (I had to politely ask the people sitting in our seats to please move into the aisle.) I could see Marc boarding the bus, now even fuller than when I boarded. I had to actually yell at the top of my lungs from the back of the bus that he was going to have to bulldoze his way through if he had any hopes of sitting for the next eight hours. <br /><br /> By the time Marc got settled, the bus was literally packed like sardines. There were as many people standing in the aisles as sitting in seats. Some of the people sitting in seats were doubled up as well. This was by far the most bizarre bus trip yet. And it had only just begun. We rolled out at 4:00 AM.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnQ4WGGwynxYF7IaTZJEtUehj90RQNngrD1D1aof8Eg7Oc5yVnHjYlZ1DoNLtftfNpYi0XZkYS6GyU9gCyU1P8WUcYKfze4eF8B-WLylqRvGCGr3HZ5Iyn7gOn5PYmOuhSc4_VS5KhqNxi/s1600/bolivian+border.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnQ4WGGwynxYF7IaTZJEtUehj90RQNngrD1D1aof8Eg7Oc5yVnHjYlZ1DoNLtftfNpYi0XZkYS6GyU9gCyU1P8WUcYKfze4eF8B-WLylqRvGCGr3HZ5Iyn7gOn5PYmOuhSc4_VS5KhqNxi/s1600/bolivian+border.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The bus stopped in the middle of nowhere, but there is always a concession stand!</td></tr>
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By about 7:00 am we arrived at the Bolivian border. We all got off the bus where there were the usual food stands with big women in their multilayered skirts serving up huge bowls of chicken soup with potatoes and rice from large tin pots covered with blankets to keep everything warm. Eventually the border office opened and one by one we entered and paid 10 or 15 Bolivianos for the privilege of leaving the country. Marc tried in vain to ask for a receipt (since we all knew that there was not supposed to be a charge to leave the country). But, eventually, we too paid the bribe that went directly into his pocket. <br /><br /> Then we waited and waited and waited, until we finally got back on the bus and traveled for about 15 minutes to the Chilean border. This time we were literally stopped at the side of the road in what looked like nomads’ land. On the other side of the road was a Chilean bus that had just arrived from the Chilean border. Both buses asked their occupants to disembark and take all of their luggage out of the luggage compartment. Then we all waited. And waited. And waited.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaZgtUHFcfU5D0yiE2qotFvzbYjhKxdA1o8EjvOjmX9XIoXL02mcNLVReQax5ryjByqpydPCOapNslMv5y28Rv2M3WOwVTvXNDfJfZxxB79XZvGExMfbYaQnWnwHbyXKr6qrWxy3K01mgA/s1600/waiting.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaZgtUHFcfU5D0yiE2qotFvzbYjhKxdA1o8EjvOjmX9XIoXL02mcNLVReQax5ryjByqpydPCOapNslMv5y28Rv2M3WOwVTvXNDfJfZxxB79XZvGExMfbYaQnWnwHbyXKr6qrWxy3K01mgA/s1600/waiting.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You will notice that someone in the back is knitting. There was time to complete a sweater while we waited!</td></tr>
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The shadow from the bus afforded us some shade but as the wait approached two hours, we were all huddled in the now very narrow area of shade left. Eventually a bus arrived and we all put our luggage into the luggage compartment and boarded the bus — for the 5-minute ride to the actual border!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwhTTm0xum7K5xhIGLIMMy7_LD4GnalLa4nt2XfdCXz_z8MbPd6CL0iHloX98jFNwYQyW3IxVhjYcz_rNKUjt4A7ncfZvN3Js3UWSwdk-OROwipubRTvM8YargB2jEzdW-ShFq7sT6fUlU/s1600/mask.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwhTTm0xum7K5xhIGLIMMy7_LD4GnalLa4nt2XfdCXz_z8MbPd6CL0iHloX98jFNwYQyW3IxVhjYcz_rNKUjt4A7ncfZvN3Js3UWSwdk-OROwipubRTvM8YargB2jEzdW-ShFq7sT6fUlU/s1600/mask.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I don't have pictures to prove it, but there were a cute youngster wearing this mask and the paws that went with it throughout the journey. There was another very cute little boy that was quite sure the mask was real. We were all in need of entertainment, so this was a nice distraction.</td></tr>
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There we worked our way off the bus and took our luggage once again from the luggage compartment and waited to be interrogated and searched by the Chilean border guards. They are very picky about any vegetable matter entering so they check each bag. And then take a very close look at the bus, inside and out, and the baggage compartment. The guards were actually very nice and had fun talking English to us. The search of our bags was, in the end very cursory and we were through quite quickly — and no bribe to pay this time around! <br /><br /> I think by now it was about noon and we had been traveling since 4:00 AM. Within an hour we would be in Calama, a well-to-do mining town at the other end of the spectrum from what we had experienced in Uyuni. So it was really a shock to us that it would be in Calama of all places that we had our first really negative experience of this leg of our journey. And one that changed the tone for the rest of the trip. <br /><br /> A few words on that on my next post! <br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867737740292426929.post-48184085944163756492013-05-07T10:13:00.000-07:002013-05-07T10:13:00.656-07:00And at long last the Bolivian Salar<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<i>Quick note: I know there have been huge gaps between posts. In fact we are already back in New York, but I promised myself I would complete this journey on this blog, so here we go. When they were written each post made sense as a continuation of the previous one. But now it may be very disjointed if you have not read the previous entry. If you are confused, please take a look at the previous <a href="http://broudos-unplugged.blogspot.com/2013/04/four-amazing-days-three-restful-nights.html">post</a> If that doesn’t work, try starting <a href="http://broudos-unplugged.blogspot.com/2013/04/amazing-day-trip-from-tupiza.html">here</a>. </i><br /><br />... If Tupiza could be described as a small and unremarkable town with basic accommodations, Uyuni would have to be described as the godforsaken town at the end of a dusty and garbage strewn road to hell! And I am being kind. Raoul’s mood deteriorated as we drew near. He told us right away that he hates Uyuni and we would soon see why. After three days on the road without a shower, feeling grungy and tired, all of us were looking forward to being in a town with running water. Our hostal was far from the town centre and far from luxurious. There was running water though and Noemi got set up to make us dinner while we all got settled. All of us needed to make plans to exit Uyuni so we walked into town to investigate buses out of town as well as alternative accommodations if we had to stay an extra night. We looked into buses and stopped in at a few hostals that were far from satisfying. We were both feeling we had had enough of roughing it and were looking for an exit strategy that would take us out of this hell hole as quickly as possible! <br /><br />It was about that time that Marc started feeling ill. I was still feeling fine, so we got Marc a sprite and started walking back to the hotel. Bjorn and Joachim arrived back at the hotel at the same time and we exchanged notes about buses booked and plans made. <br /><br />It was about that time that I began feeling ill. I excused myself and ran to the bathroom as gracefully as I could. I think you see where this is going. Within an hour or so, we were all sick, including Noemi. Joachim came to our room to announce that he too was sick and Bjorn was not far behind. <br /><br />I don’t have to tell you what being sick in a hostal with communal bathrooms is far from ideal. But somehow we all made it through the night and felt remarkably healthy the next morning at 4:00am when we all were up for our last day, and most important day of the trip: the visit to the Salar (salt flats).<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhqgfiudPmGvtU0bvJkKaSG_PZmnLNmuftunCXIE5e0iniDzoKC01d8NxNLonMyJSxTddDJhjiAgpsEqfB_h0_439R9mnF35dihVEwi29v6zO7VV9-WQQPIeO6Gr3ALvb7SYJWmXEbe_YX/s1600/sunrise2.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhqgfiudPmGvtU0bvJkKaSG_PZmnLNmuftunCXIE5e0iniDzoKC01d8NxNLonMyJSxTddDJhjiAgpsEqfB_h0_439R9mnF35dihVEwi29v6zO7VV9-WQQPIeO6Gr3ALvb7SYJWmXEbe_YX/s1600/sunrise2.jpg" /></a><br />
It being the summer holiday for South Americans, there were literally hundreds of university students and other tourists with the exact same itinerary. We, and all of the multitudes of tourists, were on our way before 5:00 am driving through the saltwater onto the glistening salt flats to see the sun rise. I could feel Raoul cringing as the salt water splashed on and under his jeep and then the salt from the surface of the salt flats was kicked up by its tires into every crevice of the underside of the vehicle! But for us, the experience was spectacular, even with dozens of jeeps racing past us throughout the morning hours.<br />
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We had breakfast in the first hotel made of salt, which is now a museum.
There are now a couple of others that have popped up that are fancier
and much more expensive. We did not visit them, but were able to view
them from afar. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm72BB2F7_1qkCLL1D5cIUbv5HQJgrgPVpE90H5Wti5MK699PRynHc75wa6itfRgG9rgG4BK8U9XK2l4g3DpTcdoRjdhwfl_1x2i_tXpLc5gyJQgyqGL5xmegqZRQOumT9EvR-U6vZehR6/s1600/breakfast_salthotel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm72BB2F7_1qkCLL1D5cIUbv5HQJgrgPVpE90H5Wti5MK699PRynHc75wa6itfRgG9rgG4BK8U9XK2l4g3DpTcdoRjdhwfl_1x2i_tXpLc5gyJQgyqGL5xmegqZRQOumT9EvR-U6vZehR6/s1600/breakfast_salthotel.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Everything is made out of salt including the furniture. Sort of like an Igloo made out of salt blocks instead of packed snow.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYh1vjWn1AAt2q3VcTE6jSKSP3JI9dzl8hNRsQQYc7cxOwdqV9lHv5CidmadhMWavBsmof9-Wx4y1cMSn4wQHPPfIvj-uCEzrR1wlT9UV3FRBCp8pQ65zJCDkIYH-o7QwEDNYK9CYh1NN1/s1600/salthotel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYh1vjWn1AAt2q3VcTE6jSKSP3JI9dzl8hNRsQQYc7cxOwdqV9lHv5CidmadhMWavBsmof9-Wx4y1cMSn4wQHPPfIvj-uCEzrR1wlT9UV3FRBCp8pQ65zJCDkIYH-o7QwEDNYK9CYh1NN1/s1600/salthotel.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All made out of salt!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfQuBIr6AM24YcqvAPg5DT_lDpPEvUJrHnIA4UG6N-8RpQ50eTtnrR3QwwKf6HZyRKwBpYI2Z0fFLTWdCjQ-6PwUx8cc8TNtLYBDkxCCU0yISWU6BfFncN58SbJ1yg0V-9gLFOmZItCoTO/s1600/can_flag.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfQuBIr6AM24YcqvAPg5DT_lDpPEvUJrHnIA4UG6N-8RpQ50eTtnrR3QwwKf6HZyRKwBpYI2Z0fFLTWdCjQ-6PwUx8cc8TNtLYBDkxCCU0yISWU6BfFncN58SbJ1yg0V-9gLFOmZItCoTO/s1600/can_flag.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Canadians have been here!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">As well as everyone else!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Raoul taking a quick nap while we took in the amazing scenery. I guess he has seen it a couple of times!</td></tr>
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It seems there is a tradition of taking funny pictures on the salt flats. Not sure where this idea originated, but Raoul had all sorts of ideas and had us pose in all sorts of ways that were actually hysterical. The boys really got into it and they were out there posing and snapping photos long after Marc and I were too cold to stay outside any longer.<br />
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Raoul then took us further onto the salt flats where we witnessed the family teams scrapping salt into heaps for drying while others moved dried salt onto trucks for transport to facilities where the salt is further dried, cleaned and processed for table and artisanal salts.<br />
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The last stop on our tour was what is called the Train Graveyard. It is a place where train cars no longer fit for service are laid to rest. They are over time disintegrating with the help of the salty air as well as disappearing piece by piece with the help of entrepreneurs looking for ways to make a bit of extra cash selling scraps of iron. Graffiti artists have also had some fun here. I don’t know what it is about trains, but people just have to climb on them. And so the Train Graveyard has become a living sculpture, ever changing as people climb on and off the cars.<br />
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And with that final tourist attraction, our trip was over. Raoul drove us back to the hostal, and Noemi prepared our last meal. Bjorn and Joachim had a bus out at 7:30 pm to Potosi and we had a 4:00 am departure to the Bolivian/Chilean border and onwards to Calama Chile. We sat together at our last lunch filling out a comments form that Raoul had given us, exchanging email addresses and talking about our amazing journey together. <br /><br />Just before we all went our separate ways to finish packing up, I turned to the boys and told them that one of the biggest highlights of the trip for us was sharing it with them. I had to hold back a tear or two. We were going to miss them very much. When traveling, you meet people on the road and share your life with them for a few days or a few weeks. Each time it is a different experience. But this encounter was very special. And of course that is because these two young men are very special. I would love to meet their parents one day to congratulate them on raising such good boys! <br /><br />The rest of our Uyuni story includes yet another incredible bus journey, which deserves its own post! </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867737740292426929.post-70740051568300811902013-04-21T09:34:00.001-07:002013-05-06T04:06:21.536-07:00Four amazing days three restful nights in the Bolivian wilderness<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The scenery as we left Tupiza</td></tr>
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Our excursion from Tupiza to Uyuni would be by jeep with two other tourists, a driver/tour guide, and a cook. Everything we read and everyone we talked to about the trip warned that the accommodations were very basic and the drive rough. But everyone and every article and every review agreed that the scenery was outstanding and the food delicious and this trip was not to be missed. We had chosen a tour company that had received good reviews so we knew we were in good hands. All that remained was to meet our travel companions, our guide and cook. We knew ahead of time that we all spoke English as we had all paid an extra levy to have a guide that spoke English. <br />
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We finished our breakfast and walked to the tour agency office at the front of the hostal. There I was greeted by a very polite and very tall Swedish young man named Bjorn, who introduced himself and shook my hand. Shortly thereafter Joachim, his travel companion (just as tall, but dark hair instead of blond), arrived and similarly introduced himself with a smile and a handshake. We soon learned that Bjorn and Joachim had known each other since elementary school and were on a 6 week trip together through Argentina, Chile, Bolivia and Peru (sound familiar?). Luckily for us, they had started their trip in the opposite direction than we did, so we were able to advise them on Peru and Bolivia and they were able to advise us on Chile and Argentina. <br />
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We soon were also introduced to our driver/guide Raoul and our cook Noemi (no I did not spell that wrong, her name was very similar to mine). We were both amazed we had almost the same name! It must be a sign!!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCFxmldgjllBNHcegGbIUQRYQRjUW7-HJqHFM1jCrxDQhZGf2huRt4LbE7zzXCP_94rQXWpwsmcScDU_momogvfdy70qMrmyV9dJOkBolmgLC4g4Ly7218eM6Bso6G0x2cFGXKjnRbSG3H/s1600/sand+dunes2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCFxmldgjllBNHcegGbIUQRYQRjUW7-HJqHFM1jCrxDQhZGf2huRt4LbE7zzXCP_94rQXWpwsmcScDU_momogvfdy70qMrmyV9dJOkBolmgLC4g4Ly7218eM6Bso6G0x2cFGXKjnRbSG3H/s1600/sand+dunes2.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">sand dunes ...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZTF2Mr0Sek1h3KHgelXVCpFV_lM6KoikF85q91cmtoVEjL9nOZ3srYq45mhyext8KbFghCKuFodVat8cUdI1KfPRLpRJXkk2kEsO7gOS2ckwSUuVrHc_YO9j5u2-40S2JtgxodTTf-hHo/s1600/sunset2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZTF2Mr0Sek1h3KHgelXVCpFV_lM6KoikF85q91cmtoVEjL9nOZ3srYq45mhyext8KbFghCKuFodVat8cUdI1KfPRLpRJXkk2kEsO7gOS2ckwSUuVrHc_YO9j5u2-40S2JtgxodTTf-hHo/s1600/sunset2.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And snow capped mountains!</td></tr>
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Marc and I and our Swedish travel companions were immediate friends and the first long day of driving flew by as we talked about our respective travels and exchanged tips from our experiences in each of the cities we had traveled through. Although there was a huge age difference between us, the language of travel seemed to melt the years between us away and two generations melded as one. They spoke perfect English and we really could not have asked for a more perfect group. <br />
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Soon after leaving Tupiza any semblance of paved roads were left behind. For that reason, the extraordinary care our driver Raoul took to keep us on the road safely was a good indication we were in good hands. As we watched some of the other drivers racing over gravel roads raising dust and stones in their wake, we were thankful we were in Raoul’s car and not any of the others. Noemi had the back of the jeep packed with provisions, and the top of the jeep was packed with our bags, tanks of water and a cooking stove.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUiapfWuxETJVBy149ADbeSIT2HtJecAiE7k9f3TVFXGYMO1KKnwfvcaPr-LMX5OoWEMAor6g0BE-fNOeQ5fyeA2Wq4K9bTjyKT1AC1k9ehffs4L35DtevQ7u0qyo966nvHMB3RGrKut4x/s1600/accommodation+night+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUiapfWuxETJVBy149ADbeSIT2HtJecAiE7k9f3TVFXGYMO1KKnwfvcaPr-LMX5OoWEMAor6g0BE-fNOeQ5fyeA2Wq4K9bTjyKT1AC1k9ehffs4L35DtevQ7u0qyo966nvHMB3RGrKut4x/s1600/accommodation+night+1.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">room we shared with the boys!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY3Dw5RkU8dyUBQ4ueGdyCICT-IXPqiAAZ7sM2hROUkz7GJOc-TPTKE33T_PXTUBqUlOFvENMK3AdXW2Kf_UfNn6wsAEA4ESgb8WpQq9kDyhHQNPUSxsAygJgWAXdzpsJRF2zlAw9PVd7o/s1600/dinner+being+prepared.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY3Dw5RkU8dyUBQ4ueGdyCICT-IXPqiAAZ7sM2hROUkz7GJOc-TPTKE33T_PXTUBqUlOFvENMK3AdXW2Kf_UfNn6wsAEA4ESgb8WpQq9kDyhHQNPUSxsAygJgWAXdzpsJRF2zlAw9PVd7o/s1600/dinner+being+prepared.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Noemi preparing our dinner</td></tr>
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Breakfast each day was at our hostal where we spent the night. Lunch was prepared in the morning and packed in the truck, to be unveiled in some beautiful scenic spot along the way. We marveled each day at what Noemi had prepared for us in the middle of nowhere. In addition to a full hot entre and hot side dishes, there was always a fresh salad and soft drinks as well as bottled water. Dinner was prepared in the kitchen of the hostal where we would be sleeping. Although we all asked, Noemi would not let us help with preparation or cleanup. So, although the conditions were basic, we were really being treated as royalty. Raoul also kept his jeep sparkling clean, which was a feat in itself considering we were in the desert and then driving over salt flats, intermittently driving through rivers where the road disappeared altogether. <br />
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What didn’t we see on this trip? Looking back, it is hard to believe we managed to see and do it all in just four days. The itinerary was packed with so many attractions each day, that without our photos, it really would be impossible to remember what happened when. But there was one moment of this trip that will stay with me forever. When I will think back on our trip from Tupiza to Uyuni, this experience is what will summarize the very special nature of this journey.<br />
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It is a very rare moment for us, to be in a place so magnificent that it brings tears to your eyes. Where you gaze upon the scene in front of you as if you were an explorer coming upon this turn in the road for the very first time. Here we were, the six of us, in our jeep, all alone in the wilderness between Tupiza and Uyuni. No other vehicle, no other human beings. Just a vast lagoon stretching along the horizon, as if a mirage. The surface of the lagoon, like glass, was dotted with what looked like small specs of pink reflected in the water. On second look, the specs begin to move and soon fly from the surface into the air as our vehicle approached. In disbelief we watched hundreds of pink flamingos take flight in formation and resettle far enough away from us to be safe from our intrusion.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlLMMBCHL_fh8P3H9PomPwYP16OsUFcgyDa7PvkK8SXW9ubgKSR-w6ZUro98biH2YaAOHQrSImLb3IcYpniA10KAjdPjV7uGsKs85PSBH85EumR5HqW8NQNbdp9xoNe9XtaI7l7kP6f3Ld/s1600/flamingo1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlLMMBCHL_fh8P3H9PomPwYP16OsUFcgyDa7PvkK8SXW9ubgKSR-w6ZUro98biH2YaAOHQrSImLb3IcYpniA10KAjdPjV7uGsKs85PSBH85EumR5HqW8NQNbdp9xoNe9XtaI7l7kP6f3Ld/s1600/flamingo1.jpg" /></a></div>
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I turned to Marc, barely able to speak. We have been travelling for almost two years. Never in all of that time, have we been able to experience this kind of wonder in such a pure way. In this vast wilderness, our jeep was also just a spec on the horizon. For the first three days of our trip, we rarely saw another human being. Just our jeep, our provisions and mother nature. <br />
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That is the essence of this trip.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyLclHpcx39b5R1lcwl7q5CKDfFAE_DDdpYFaqxzwCc3y4hgyiwIeVVLQLceMyyooV9IDWOXy0LWq48QWxW58EZzP4oPGQM_yo5hWdKAryXU_Gl8cglWZZyIS0Aw64-lOp-hOgeuFO7_On/s1600/hot+springs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyLclHpcx39b5R1lcwl7q5CKDfFAE_DDdpYFaqxzwCc3y4hgyiwIeVVLQLceMyyooV9IDWOXy0LWq48QWxW58EZzP4oPGQM_yo5hWdKAryXU_Gl8cglWZZyIS0Aw64-lOp-hOgeuFO7_On/s1600/hot+springs.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Marc enjoying the thermal waters at the edge of the salt flats</td></tr>
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The distances were far, and we were for the most part in the jeep traveling over all sorts of terrain, stopping to view flamingos, volcanic rock gardens and geysers. Each night we rested our weary bones in hostals along the way and Noemi cooked us dinner. We were all ready for bed as soon as our meal was completed. Raoul then went to work cleaning his jeep and making sure all was well for the next day’s journey.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheC_mJDKuLVz5G0VribB-k6k9p_Y_HI26_RmGPVqKtYL1YclxYoflLZgH6dRNr7Lz27pXtWS5a3WG44m4zi2FvFror5zYEgsGFbZ1hIgwXUjHRUdpYIu22DtdgR32IxoO7QVo-PVrBCsZy/s1600/geysers4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheC_mJDKuLVz5G0VribB-k6k9p_Y_HI26_RmGPVqKtYL1YclxYoflLZgH6dRNr7Lz27pXtWS5a3WG44m4zi2FvFror5zYEgsGFbZ1hIgwXUjHRUdpYIu22DtdgR32IxoO7QVo-PVrBCsZy/s1600/geysers4.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Geysers!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9TH8R5UsXVrWD55ticw-z_Ntjgw8AlRsRna-FrovVP-4Vl5zPNrYh-pi7nQqF2pjAM3TBOkwkYLHlnIbroRm8ohSulaehcboUd6Jobu8DBM27MZbjK8u5esFClZR3Al5PduDwx1j1rJ4V/s1600/packing+the+car.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9TH8R5UsXVrWD55ticw-z_Ntjgw8AlRsRna-FrovVP-4Vl5zPNrYh-pi7nQqF2pjAM3TBOkwkYLHlnIbroRm8ohSulaehcboUd6Jobu8DBM27MZbjK8u5esFClZR3Al5PduDwx1j1rJ4V/s1600/packing+the+car.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our jeep being packed for the journey</td></tr>
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As we got closer to Uyuni, the illusion that we had this landscape to ourselves vanished as we began to see dozens of jeeps like ours parked at each viewpoint. There were still beautiful things to see, but they were now for the masses. Most trips to the Bolivian salar (Salt Flats) begin in Uyuni as you can make it to the salar and back in one day from there. <br />
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Our last lunch was a spectacular one with everything left in the larder. Roasted potatoes of all shapes and colors, corn on the cob, salad, cooked vegetables and roasted chicken. We managed to find a quiet place for lunch away from all of the other jeeps and crowds of tourists. Then we headed for Uyuni. <br />
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Shortly after lunch we encountered a jeep at the side of the road in need of help. The driver had a flat tire and no spare! It also looked like he was completely unprepared. Raoul of course was the opposite, so he jumped out of the jeep and got out his tools and his spare tire and helped his comrade out of quite a jam. We were all mumbling in our jeep about how ridiculous it was to be out here without a spare tire! And of course we were all very happy to have such a good and prepared driver. The ordeal took quite some time and even after the tire was replaced, it was discovered that the replacement tire was not really the right size. So the solution was to move the spare to the back wheel and the back wheel to the front. So two more tires to change. Eventually both vehicles were back on the road and in an hour or so we all made it to Uyuni. <br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867737740292426929.post-76391088694741170582013-04-21T09:06:00.001-07:002013-04-21T09:07:17.528-07:00Amazing day trip from Tupiza<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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By 4:00 am we were both asleep in our comfortable hostel bed and awoke a few hours later, quite refreshed in time for the breakfast promised us with our reservation. The hostel is a converted hacienda and the breakfast room was a converted dining room. Although the breakfast was very sparse and unsatisfying in itself, the surroundings somehow made up for it. And we knew we were at the beginning of a great adventure, so stale bread and jam (and almost anything else) was just fine. <br />
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We spent the morning checking out the town and doing our research to find the best tour company for our four-day three-night excursion from Tupiza to Uyuni, through the Bolivian salar (Salt Flats). Our Belgian friends Janne and Sami, that we had met in Sucre, convinced us to start our excursion in Tupiza rather than in Uyuni and we were soon to learn that his was very good advice. <br />
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Aside from having a great time on our excursions from Tupiza, we also met incredible people which I will elaborate upon shortly. <br />
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After doing our usual Broudo “shopping around”, we decided to book with the tour company associated with our hostal (La Torre). In order to get the best deal, we also booked a day trip with them to explore the geological phenomena around Tupiza which was our first taste of what was to come on the days that followed. <br />
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When we boarded our vehicle for our day trip, we found that our tour guide/driver had brought his son with him. It was a school holiday so we were happy to have him with us. This young boy (we think he was maybe 8 years old) was an absolute sweetheart. Extremely well behaved and able to keep himself entertained throughout the entire trip with out being any trouble to anyone. He was thrilled to be out in nature with his dad and was climbing rocks and trees at every opportunity. The only “toy” he had with him was a bottle of water, which he converted into a sailboat whenever there was a puddle along the way. He had obviously done this trip with his dad many times and helped us find our way. This boy was full of joy. Having him along was a real gift. <br />
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Our guide Fidel and his son did not speak a word of English, but luckily for us, our companion on the trip — Peter, a retired man from Germany, spoke Spanish and English well and was able to translate between us and our guide and the other way around. Peter had been traveling around South America as we had for several months and we had lots to discuss and many experiences to share. <br />
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Peter was also an amazing addition to our trip. Full of energy and travel stories, he reminded us of our friend Bob that we met on our India trip. Peter has been traveling extensively since retiring and is the kind of person that really “experiences” each place he travels to. He is a chef by trade and finds a way to cook for people everywhere he goes. Each story he shared with us was full of local colour and local flavours as well. <br />
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As you can see, we had great companions for our day trip and the places we visited and the sights we had a chance to experience were as remarkable as the company. <br />
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Our guide took us through amazing sandstone formations and canyons along a meandering river. A hot lunch had been prepared for us which we ate under the shade of beautiful trees in an unbelievably gorgeous spot. There were cactus gardens in bloom along the way. And endless mountain “slices” seemingly growing out of the ground. Our cameras were clicking non-stop as we traveled through the area. <br />
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Although the town of Tupiza itself had little to offer, the surrounding area was proving to be extraordinary. And our excitement was mounting for the four days still ahead of us.<br />
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We arrived back in Tupiza in the late afternoon amazed and exhilarated by the scenery we had experienced and the good company we had shared the day with. </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867737740292426929.post-38783886851583654002013-04-21T08:57:00.002-07:002013-04-21T08:57:51.953-07:00Sage advice: When travelling by bus in Bolivia — Pee before you go<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span id="goog_456878423"></span><span id="goog_456878424"></span><span id="goog_604443622"></span><span id="goog_604443623"></span>I can’t remember where I read that, but it is very good advice. We had graduated from buses with locked bathroom doors to buses without any kind of bathroom at all. <br />
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We boarded our bus in Sucre headed to Tupiza, the jumping off point for excursions to the Bolivian salar (salt flats) around 6:00 pm with a full complement of passengers ranging in age from infants suckling at their mother’s breast to grandparents dressed in indigenous garb. This includes, for the women, many skirts one on top of the other and many layers of upper garments including of course the obligatory woven blanket full of food and possibly a grandchild or two or at least a week’s worth of luggage. <br />
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We left the Sucre bus station full – but managed to stop every 10 minutes or so to pick up additional passengers until we were full to the rafters. <br />
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Now — the advice to pee before you go is all well and good, but if the bus ride is overnight and more than eight to 10 hours, all the pre-peeing in the world is not going to convince my body or the bodies of the many children and elderly on board not to need to pee! I was curious to see how this was going to play out. <br />
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After about three hours the bus stopped at a roadside restaurant for a 20 minute dinner break. The restaurant was ready for us and served up heaping bowls of chicken, rice, carrots and potatoes to anyone that was willing to partake. The rest of us in more urgent need to relieve ourselves walked in the dark towards the makeshift latrine where the women in their multi-layered skirts were maneuvering in and out of a very tight space. No one was happy about his, but you gotta do what you gotta do and somehow we all managed within the 20 minutes allotted to us to pee and have a snack before reboarding the bus. The facilities from this point on only got more primitive. <br />
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Sometime past midnight we stopped in a town that could only be described as a banyo central. All you could see in all directions were hand lettered signs barely visible in the dim light saying BANYO. Under each sign were several women ready to provide you with a wad of toilet paper for a few coins. Buses of all sizes and descriptions were parked on both sides of the highway and tired, unhappy, bleary eyed passengers were making there way to one shack or another to do what needed to be done. <br />
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At 3:00 am the bus dropped us off at the bus station in Tupiza. At that hour, the town was completely quiet. I had booked a room at Hostel El Torre which was 200 meters from the bus station. We easily walked to the hotel with some directions from a cab driver or two along the way. The night receptionist welcomed us warmly and showed us to our room, which was remarkably nice considering we were in the middle of nowhere on the edge of a vast wilderness of salt flats, black, green and red lagoons filled with pink flamingoes, and volcanic rock gardens so amazing you have to pinch yourself to be sure you are not dreaming. But we had yet to experience any of the natural wonders of this very special place. We were simply happy to be off that horrible bus and in a room with an actual toilet that flushed, a bed with clean sheets, and the anticipation of the amazing adventure that awaited us. </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867737740292426929.post-70802253320179982102013-03-16T18:30:00.002-07:002013-03-16T18:31:03.390-07:00Sucre did not disappoint<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Our hotel, the second night in Potosi, was probably the highlight of our time there, which was not saying much. The room was really large and we had a king sized bed, but the furniture was so stained that it was hard to feel comfortable sitting anywhere except in bed. So when it was time to check out and make our way to the bus station we were very relieved. <br />
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We had thought we had time for a quick snack, but after a quick consultation with a travel agent/tourist excursion booking office we realized that if we got in a cab right away we could make an earlier bus — which sounded like a great idea. Finding a taxi proved to be a bit more difficult than we expected, but we managed to make it to the station with a few minutes to spare. And, even though we were getting our tickets at the last minute, we managed to scoop seats one and two, which was an amazing feat. <br />
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The bus was full of tourists and we felt like our luck had finally turned and we were momentarily going to be on our way to a better place. There was one small glitch right away, but luckily it ended up not being a big issue. <br />
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The nice lady selling tickets seemed to have over sold the seats on the bus (two other people had tickets with our seat numbers). But for some reason, she was willing to give us priority. The bad news was that she took our tickets in order to figure things out and then disappeared without giving them back to us. The problem with that scenario is that tickets are collected just before the bus arrives at its final destination, which was several hours away. Was the bus driver going to remember that we indeed had tickets when we got on the bus, but they were taken from us from the ticket lady? We managed to forget about this for most of the trip, but, as we approached Sucre, we were getting a bit worried. <br />
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But our luck was indeed changing. The bus driver remembered that we had tickets and Sucre was beautiful. Our hotel, The San Marino Royal, was elegant, comfortable, and there were real restaurants and real food. We had arrived in heaven! <br />
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What a difference a few hours of bus travel make!<br />
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We settled into our lovely hotel room and went out looking for food. We ended up in an Italian restaurant and had, of all things, a pizza and a Greek salad, but both items were actually made with the right ingredients and tasted like real food! We savored every morsel. Still euphoric over the black olives and goat cheese, we walked around the corner and spotted the La Patisserie Salon de Te, where scrumptious French pastries were on display. We ordered the chocolate volcano cake and pecan torte, hot chocolate, and cappuccino and, as soon as it all arrived, we devoured both cakes to the last crumb between sips of our steaming and delicious hot beverages.<br />
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It had been so long since I had real coffee that I didn’t sleep a wink that night, but it was worth it! <br />
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Marc booked a mountain bike excursion for the next day and I caught up on ketubah orders and email with a nap to catch up on the sleep I missed the night before. Marc was back early afternoon after an exhilarating downhill and strenuous uphill ride with Marlena (from Holland), Janne and her boy friend (whose name escapes us both at the moment) from Belgium and Fidel, their local guide. <br />
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We all met for drinks and appetizers at the “Amsterdam” bar to debrief about the day’s events and later moved to a French restaurant that Janne had found on Trip Advisor called La Taverne. All I can say is AMAZING doesn’t even begin to describe the food. I think this may have been the best looking and tasting food we have had so far on this trip. Marlena chose a perfect Bolivian red wine to go with our dinner. <br />
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What a wonderful and delicious evening with a lovely group of new friends! <br />
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We said our farewells to Janne and her boy friend who were leaving the next morning. Marlena would be joining us the next day for a walk to the local waterfalls, which she and Marc had arranged with their mountain biking guide. We made plans to meet at the square at 10:00 am.<br />
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Marlena kindly brought us all hot saltenas (hot pockets of pastry filled with vegetables, chicken or meat) and our wonderful day got started brilliantly! We all hopped on a combi (local bus), which took us to the outskirts of town. From there we walked for an hour or so until we hit the first of three waterfalls. There had been a lot of rain the night before so the water was as they call it here “chocolate” coloured. We climbed from one waterfall to the next and rested viewing the gushing chocolate water as it churned up the brown clay as it moved its way down the mountain.<br />
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Our guide had brought a picnic lunch for us which we helped him assemble beside the third waterfall — fresh tomatoes, cucumbers, avocados, white cheese, corn, bread, and bananas for dessert. Out in nature after a few hours of hiking, this lunch could not have been more perfect. <br />
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From Sucre our next stop was to be Tupiza which was a long bus ride away. Our tour guide kindly took us to the bus station after our hike and helped us choose a bus company that was reliable (remember my post about buses …) we booked tickets for the next evening at 6:00 pm.<br />
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We took it easy on our last day in Sucre.<br />
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We stopped in at the Folklore museum and then took a walk to the Ricoletta Convent which was at a high point in town where you could view the city. There was a nice restaurant called something like Gourmet Mirador. The food was indeed gourmet! We had a beautiful salad and sandwich combo with fruit juice while taking in the view. Then we walked back to our hotel, picked up our bags and took a quick taxi to the bus station. <br />
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The bus station in Sucre is not at all like the beautiful historic centre of town. It is gritty and sour and for the first time in Bolivia I felt on edge and unsafe. I was glad when the bus arrived and we took our seats. 8 more hours to go until we were to arrive in Tupiza at 3:00 am. No toilet on the bus so it was sure to be an interesting night. <br />
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More on that later … </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867737740292426929.post-58752779567262756072013-03-13T16:12:00.000-07:002013-03-13T18:24:45.868-07:00Oruro and Potosi<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4462elqIgovDL2cgd9Wq0b9ulJiWEFyMoBupzoarslhyphenhyphenokCQpaRfeuXgFskJCEjEIDa_5l5S008FZwLhoSMjJmSa6Kqpq0EUCZfIzpdsveuNLbW3xkNxXrV20utxtdp2J7_gByPgxNsX3/s1600/potosi1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4462elqIgovDL2cgd9Wq0b9ulJiWEFyMoBupzoarslhyphenhyphenokCQpaRfeuXgFskJCEjEIDa_5l5S008FZwLhoSMjJmSa6Kqpq0EUCZfIzpdsveuNLbW3xkNxXrV20utxtdp2J7_gByPgxNsX3/s1600/potosi1.jpg" /></a></div>
I said I would not take the time to write about these two towns that we spent a long time getting to and couldn't get out of fast enough. But for the sake of documentation, I will add a few photos so that I remember that I was there. In fact, when I looked through my photos, I realized I did not take one photo in Oruru. Not even a one. I guess that is telling.<br />
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There were only a few photos of Potisi. Unfortunately, I neglected to photograph the pile of dog poop in the treads of my shoe that took me hours to clean up. But I do have a few photos to share. We will leave it at that.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867737740292426929.post-38127478877730761852013-03-11T15:53:00.000-07:002013-03-11T15:53:02.205-07:00Getting a grip<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I realized this morning, that not having my computer charger should not deter me from catching up on all of the things we have experienced before and since the <i>calamity</i> in the mining town of <i>Calama</i> (where my day pack was rudely taken from me). There had been a lot of really great and memorable experiences after our trip to La Paz (...that is, if I leave out Oruro and Potosi, which I will definitely not take the time to write about). And if I wait for my charger that may take another week or so to purchase, I may never catch up.<br />
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It has been a hard few days for me to get over the incident. All I could think about was writing about how it happened and how sad I was about it. Mostly about my little box of earrings.<br />
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I am realizing that I need to get this off my chest before I can move on and tell you about the wonderful town of Sucre and our overnight bus ride to Tupiza and meeting the nicest two Swedish boys you could ever meet - and spending four days with them discovering the salt flats of Bolivia. And of course how we all got food poisoning together. You know, the experiences that bond you forever ...<br />
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But first lets go back a few days. In the last three days we have been in three countries. We left our Swedish friends in Uyuni, where we finished our amazing four day trip. We boarded a bus to cross the border into Chile and stayed a night in Calama which is a very well-to-do mining town where stealing my day pack really should not have happened. Everyone drives a big car there and restaurants are full of local mining types drinking beer and eating steaks and fries. Everyone lives in a nice prefab house, dresses well, and from what we could tell, no one there had any need for my cute purple day pack or my camera charger and computer charger. OK, I admit it. I am still angry ...<br />
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Our plan was to leave Calama and take a bus (which we did, sans one day pack) to enjoy the wonderful resort town of San Pedro, before taking another long bus ride to Salta, Argentina, where I am sitting at a computer terminal writing this post.<br />
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Losing my daypack, my chargers and a few other replaceable items was traumatic and embarassing. Embarassing because our clean record is now ruined. Up until now, I could say nothing bad has happened to us in almost two years on the road. It is not that we let our guard down. It is simply a reality that shit happens and eventually even with the best of precautions, it can happen - even to us. Which means it can happen again, which is the traumatic part. Even though we are ok and nothing really bad happened, it still is amazingly unnerving.<br />
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And then there is the deep sense of loss. When you are traveling as long as we have been, with few possessions, you become attached to what you have in a very different way. Although you can replace things, the items that get lost or stolen along the way leave a deeper scar.<br />
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I had a small cardboard box of earrings in my day pack. I think there were 5 or 6 pairs in total. They were carefully chosen to go with my travel clothes and they were my most favorite. Each pair was from another country and they each had a story. Now they are gone. Sure I can buy new ones, but I will never be able to replace them. That stings.<br />
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I have one pair left that I was wearing. As luck would have it, they are white 9mother of pearl) and go with all of my summer travel clothes and we are now in warm weather. So I guess there is a silver lining to every grey cloud. And I hold on to that everytime I get mad about the man who tricked me into putting my day pack down for one minute to clean the shmutz off my big bag (that he put there to take me off my guard).<br />
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I am going to get a grip, and get past this because there are a lot of good stories to tell and I need to get to them all! <br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867737740292426929.post-77754256072462577612013-03-06T06:10:00.004-08:002013-03-13T16:04:15.793-07:00La Paz update — photos included<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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(A few days ago, we had an unfortunate encounter with a scam artist, and my day pack, became his day pack. My computer charger and camera charger which will be of no use to him are now his along with a few other things that will be very unuseful to him but were important to me. Such is life on the road. The other very unfortunate thing is that we are now in Argentina where Apple products as well as Canon products are not available. I have found a work around for my camera, but a charger for my computer will have to wait until we hit Buenos Aries in a week or so. I know that without the photos, this post will not be as good as it could be with the photos I took to illustrate it, but I wrote this so long time ago and it deserves to be posted. I will add the photos once I have my computer back...)<br />
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We got off to a bad start in La Paz. It was raining cats and dogs as we arrived in town as the last night of a raging festival was in full swing with loud speakers blaring jarring music and streets littered with shmutz stinking from beer mixed with confetti, streamers and urine. Finding a hotel/hostal had proved difficult due to the busy festival and we had decided to wing it. As I said in the last post, our cab dropped us off a couple of blocks away from the Hostal Milton, which had received reviews like “Good choice for the price.” and “Not bad considering the choices in La Paz in this price range”. We had been on the bus all day and we’re tired and cranky when I took a look at the room. It was clean and cheap and it would do for at least one night until we got our bearings.<br />
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We got settled and went out in search of day trips to Tiawanaku, the last set of ruins on our list. Tiawanuku is said to be the oldest of the pre Incan sites — where it all began. We were extremely lucky and found a tour with an amazing guide who brought the history of the Tiawanaku civilization to life.<br />
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One of the things we are continually impressed with after several visits to Incan and pre-Incan sites is these civilizations’ division of life into three spheres. The life above represented by the condor flying free in the skies above, the life on earth represented by the puma and the life below the earth represented by the serpent. In Tiawanku we visited a temple representing the underworld. What we found there were depictions of what I thought was something like Noah’s ark. The walls of the depressed chamber contained carvings of faces, hundreds and hundreds of faces, all different. Some were people, some animals. The explanation we received was that these were images of spirits that would be reborn. Their belief of the underworld is not of hell, fire and brimstone, but of rebirth. Just walking around the structure looking at the faces was amazingly spiritual for me.<br />
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The next day we spent visiting museums and churches which are always a must in any large city we spend a few days in. Two notable visits were to the Coca Museum and the MUSEF (Museum of Ethnology and Folklore). Unfortunately, both did not allow photos, which was really frustrating. Especially MUSEF. The Coca Museum was very informative about the ancient ceremonial and therapeutic uses of coca as well as the political evolution of the use and misuse of coca after the Spanish arrived on the scene as well as multinational corporations, the likes of Coca Cola, who continue to take advantage of their clout in Bolivia. MUSEF simply blew me away. I have never been in a folklore museum so well curated and so full of amazing artifacts. Drawers and drawers of weaving pattern samples from villages all over the region — and no documentation in English and no photos allowed. I was in agony!! The museum covered weaving, pottery, feather work, masks of all kinds and musical instruments. Each area had a video component as well, which showed you how the villagers today still follow ancient traditions. Totally fascinating, even though I could not understand any of the documentation.<br />
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On our third day we bid the Hotel Milton good by and good riddance and moved into the Hotel Rosario, which is a museum in its own right. The Hotel was designed by artists with common walls of the hotel as well as the guest rooms adorned with beautiful fiber artworks. They took my breath away because they were modern pieces using found archival and tourist level weavings and trinkets. I had not seen anything like it thus far in Peru or Bolivia and I was very impressed. The pieces were produced specifically for the Hotel, so when I asked where I could find similar work, the answer was that these were in fact unique and commissioned for the Hotel. I imagine if I pressed a bit harder I would have found the artists, but of course, I would have no where to put any of these beautiful works, so I did my usual and took photos to remember them virtually rather than physically.<br />
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Behind the hotel is the local market where the indegineous people who have migrated from their farming communities to the city for hope of a better life do all of their shopping. We walked through the market for a couple of hours completely fascinated by the scene unfolding in front of our eyes. I was snapping photos like crazy trying to be discrete!<br />
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We did a city tour that afternoon on a double decker bus with earphones linked to information in many languages. Aside from filling in a lot of blanks about La Paz from a cultural and political point of view, and taking us through several neighbourhoods in the sprawling city, it also delivered us to the Valley of the Moon. This is a very interesting geological phenomenon just outside of the city limits. The attraction has been Disneyized unfortunately, and it felt a bit more like a set for a movie than then a natural site, but we enjoyed it anyways and took lots of photos! <br />
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On the way back from our tour we chanced on a great pub/restaurant called Sol Y Luna, where of all things, we had a middle eastern plate of hummus, babaganush, tsastiki, olives, and pita with a local beer they had on draft. We had had other great local fare in La Paz, but this just hit the spot, especially since everything was almost authentic! <br />
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Sadly the next morning we had to check out of the wonderful Hotel Rosario knowing the next few stops along the way would not have accommodations as comfortable, breakfasts as tasty, or hotel staff as accommodating. <br />
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Our next destination was Oruro, which proved to be so unremarkable that even though we contemplated staying two nights, we backed out of our reservation only to get on a bus to Potosi, which we liked even less if that is at all possible. Both towns offered us horrible accommodations at inflated prices. What I will probably remember most about Potosi is that I stepped in a large pile of dog poop just outside our hotel, which took me a good part of the afternoon to get out of the deeply treaded walking shoes! <br />
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The good news is that our next stop was Sucre, a mere 12 hour all night bus ride away. And even with that ominous introduction, our stay there was glorious from every perspective. </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867737740292426929.post-44054606897931121782013-02-28T17:22:00.001-08:002013-02-28T17:23:14.493-08:00Transportation impressions though Peru and Bolivia <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span id="goog_1484236348"></span><span id="goog_1484236349"></span>I have been thinking about the interesting progression/deterioration of our overland bus travel over the last seven weeks and felt it was worth a blog post to document the evolution. It has kind of crept up on us with each new bus reservation. And even as I write this post, we are heading off to yet another bus station to reserve yet another bus trip, which will undoubtedly be another notch down in class, comfort and cleanliness.<br />
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I will start with a little background (which I am simply making up from my observations). There are hundreds of bus companies in Peru and Bolivia. It seems that if you can buy a bus, come up with a name for it, and decide a route you would like to take, you have a business plan. In every bus terminal there are at least 30 stalls selling tickets to three or four destinations each. All have photos of beautiful new buses, claiming their bus looks just like the photos. As you enter the station, you hear voices calling out city names, like auctioneers, beckoning you to their booths for the next departure.<br />
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If you take a look in the parking lot of any bus station, there are dozens of busses that all look similar. They are all painted in bright colours, with “Tourist Class” or something similar on them, and the name of the bus company. Most of them have two levels with more expensive seats on the bottom floor that recline and are more comfortable and upstairs seating for a reduced price. They all claim to have movies, music, air and even some with wifi. The sales people gloat endlessly about the features as if they actually exist. <br />
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Our first bus ride with Cruz del Sur, from Arequipa to Cuscu in Peru, was absolutely luxurious and I think we got completely spoiled as they delivered everything they promised, including leaving and arriving on time. But each ride since then has been a steadily declining experience. But somehow, the fact that it has been so slow, it is only now that I have realized just how low we have actually come!<br />
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Here is my theory: All of these buses (except Cruz Del Sur) must have had another life somewhere else in the world where there were standards of cleanliness and there were technicians that could fix all of the basic workings of the bus (like the ventilation system, televisions and toilets). When they were deemed unfit for use in their country of origin, they were shipped to Peru and Bolivia. They arrived here with broken windshields, TV screens that no longer work, unusable toilets and upholstery that had not seen a shampoo since Inca times. In other words, in perfect condition to begin service here! <br />
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On our first bus ride with a cracked windshield (we were in seats 1 and 2 to be able to see the view), we both wondered if the cracks were due to an external cause (rock or another bus hitting the windshield) or an internal cause (heads hitting the windshield from inside the bus). We tightened our seat belts and hoped for the best. Every bus we have travelled on so far has had cracked windshields! <br />
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If you recall, I raved about Cruz del Sur providing meals and drink service on our bus from Arequipa to Cusco. Well, in subsequent trips, and especially now that we are in Bolivia, the tides have changed dramatically. There is definitely food onboard, but not the kind that is served to you by a steward. You have seen the photos I have posted of the women here in their wide skirts and shawls full of babies or huge amounts of goods they are carrying from one place or another. Just imagine how much cooked chicken or ham, and other greasy packages of food can be hidden there? Once the bus leaves the station, the food appears, with everyone eating with his or her hands and using the upholstery for napkins. <br />
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And then there are the entrepreneurs boarding the bus at each stop, selling potato chips, jello in plastic cups with whipped topping, pop, plastic bags of white cheese in brine and assorted other messy snacks. Let your imagination go wild. The reality is much messier than you can imagine!<br />
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Initially each bus ride was booked with pre-selected seats, and baggage tags neatly stapled to them. At this point it is a free for all, with people standing in the aisles, bags thrown in the storage or wherever they will fit. <br />
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Which brings me to our bus ride from Copacabana to La Paz — the inspiration for this post. <br />
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When we got off the boat after our trip to Isla del Sol, we stopped in two bus company booths along the main drag. They were both bidding for our business calling out the special features of their sparkling tourist level buses to La Paz. The one that promised wifi got our business, even though we were quite sure that was not going to pan out. She quickly filled in our ticket voucher and sent us on our way with no seat selection and barely any idea of where we were to find the bus. Copacabana does not have a bus station, just lines of buses on the road out of town. <br />
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When the time came to find our bus, we did find an office with our bus company’s name on it and a growing number of people waiting for our bus. We managed to get seats together near the front of the (not nearly as sparkling as the photos) bus. The ticket taker even gave us a password for the wifi(that worked for about 15 minutes). So far so good. <br />
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But the fun began about an hour later. Traffic came to a halt in the middle of a town we had just entered. Was this a lunch break? Was there a police incident? For what seemed like ages, no one knew what was going on. Eventually, the driver and his wife who was travelling up front with him (This is a normal state of affairs. There are any number of passengers in the driver’s section of the bus sitting on the steps or the floor.) said a few sentences in Spanish (which we did not understand) and everyone filed out of the bus.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We could see our bus being ferried across.</td></tr>
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What we could see once off the bus was that we were at the edge of a raging body of water and, one by one, the vehicles were being loaded on barges (no larger than the size of the bus) to cross it — but no passengers were allowed. So how do we get across and how to we meet up with our bus on the other side? We saw some of the passengers buying tickets at a ticket booth and were getting on small boats to get to the other side. There was a lot of confusion and consternation from all of the tourists on the bus. Finally, we too bought tickets and got on a small boat which took us to the other side.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All of us on a small ferry boat</td></tr>
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The other side was a big place and we wandered around trying to remember what the people on our bus looked like so that we could figure out where to wait for our bus that was floating precariously on a barge half submerged halfway across the river. We could see it in the distance and could see where the dock was for the barges, but were not sure if we were to wait in the town or at the barge dock. A bit nerve wracking, but somehow, after so many months of travel, as unbelievable as it may sound, we were quite calm.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our bus finally coming down the street for us!</td></tr>
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Eventually as is always the case, it all worked out and the people gathering around us started to look more or less familiar. Our bus did finally appear and we all got back on and eventually arrived at our destination — La Paz where a rowdy festival was in full swing. And the adventure was not over yet. <br />
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The bus stopped at the side of the road, outside the bus station and reluctantly everyone filed off the bus. None of us really knew where we were. There were other South American tourists on the bus who had expected to be dropped off in the centre of town. The driver and his wife had no intention of driving to the centre of town, where we all wanted to be, so off we went to fetch our untagged bags. <br />
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Unbeknownst to us, the backpacking section of town where our hostel was located was the centre of the festival’s beer garden/street discoteque, and the first couple cabs we hailed were not interested in driving anywhere near the area. After a bit of panic, not understanding why no one would take us to where we needed to go, a lovely local women directed us to walk up the hill to a street going in the other direction where we would have a better chance of convincing a cab to stop for us. <br />
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This worked and the cab driver was able to drop us about two blocks from our final destination. The street in front of us was filled with costumed women, beer in one hand, dancing to blaring music. We wheeled our bags through confetti, spilled beer, and general street party grunge till we got to the door of the Hostal Milton where we would be spending the night. <br />
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It had been a very long day and it looked like it would be a long night of street noise, but we had made it to La Paz in one piece with all of our belongings…feeling thankful. </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867737740292426929.post-28425188141204929412013-02-17T14:34:00.001-08:002013-02-19T04:24:44.633-08:00Adiós Peru, hola Bolivia<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Crossing the border into Bolivia was simple. We boarded an international bus in Puno and a couple of hours later we were in the border town of Yunguyo. Our bus attendant explained very clearly, in Spanish and English, what the procedure was. Get off the bus, have the police review the exit paperwork to leave Peru, then have border personnel stamp your passport. Next step, walk across the border and have the Bolivian border control stamp your passport. He told us the bus would meet us on the other side. And miraculously, it happened exactly as described. Marc and I were the first to cross and the first to step on Bolivian soil. No one asked for our yellow fever inoculations (as per web published visit requirements) or for anything else for that matter. The only request when we arrived in Copacabana was a tax of 1 Boliviano each (that equaled about 15 cents for each of us!).<br />
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Twenty minutes later we were in the enchanting town of Copacabana. Copacabana is situated on the southern shores of the Bolivian side of Lake Titicaca. We were here to experience another excursion to an island on the lake, this time, Isla del Sol. But first we would view the beautiful lake from our very quirky accommodation, Hostal Las Olas. We read about this place in our guidebook, and had to try to get a reservation for at least one night. It is so special that booking months in advance is not unusual. I sent an email two days before our arrival and was very lucky to get unit #2 for one night.<br />
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The Hostal owner must have been inspired by Friedensreich Hundertwasser or Antoni Gaudí. Each apartment is a different shape and theme. All of the structures are very organic and very unique. Each boasts views of Lake Titicaca from every window. Quite a treat in an otherwise ordinary town from a hotel perspective. Our apartment was two stories, with a sitting room on the main floor with leaded glass windows floor to ceiling with a large boulder situated in the middle – half inside and half out. The bathroom was so organic, there were plants growing out of nooks in the shower and the floor. There was a full kitchen with a stove, pots and pans and a wonderful wooden sink. We had a fireplace and wood for our one night stay. Our bedroom was up a wooden staircase which complemented our view of the lake. But the apartments are just part of the complex. There are gardens throughout with hammocks to relax on while viewing the lake and the natural environment as well as a hot tub. <br />
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The only difficulty is walking up the hill to find the Hostal! But it is worth the climb.<br />
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Since Bolivia is considered an inexpensive travel destination, we found Copacabana full of young backpackers drinking cervesas in cafes on the main drag leading to the beach. The scene was pretty chill and it was easy to spend a couple of days here. There is a beautiful Moorish style Cathedral in the main square which is a beautiful centre piece to the town. There are many souvenir shops and endless restaurants serving fried or grilled freshwater fish from the lake.<br />
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Copacabana is very hilly and at a very high altitude (1380 meters), but that didn’t stop us from climbing two mountains while we were there! One climb, which was a bit tricky, was to view an Incan observatory. I let Marc climb the last bit on his own. The second hike, Cerro Calvario, north of town climbs past the 14 stations of the cross. Once at the top, we witnessed families making offerings to Pachamama.<br />
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Unlike our excursion to the islands on the Peru side of Lake Titicaca, the trip to Isla del Sol was a self-directed journey. Boats leave the dock in Copacabana early in the morning and drop people off at the North end of the Island. From there, you have the chance to view some very nice Pre-Incan ruins as you climb to the top of the ridge of the Island. It is about a four hour walk across the island, which we did, once again huffing and puffing. It is possible to do it all in one day, taking the last boat back to Copacabana, but part of the experience is to stay overnight in one of the villages on the south side of the Island. We saw many backpackers equipped for camping, but we chose instead to stay at a lovely spot called Palla Khasa Ecological Hotel. We were pooped by that time we got there and were ready for a hot meal, a hot shower and a cold beer. All were awaiting us at this picturesque hotel.<br />
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The next morning we walked the last 30 minutes through the village, which was full of restaurants and hostels and shops, down to the dock and our boat ride back to Copacabana.<br />
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We picked up our luggage, which we stored at our hostal, bought our bus tickets to La Paz and prepared for the next leg of the trip. That bus ride proved to be an adventure in itself! I will tell you all about it in the next post.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867737740292426929.post-2597721365527767962013-02-14T05:25:00.001-08:002013-02-14T05:26:13.636-08:00On the shimmering waters of Lake Titicaca<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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We signed up for a 2 day/1 night excursion to visit the floating villages of Uros, experience a home stay on the Island of Amanthani, and learn about the male knitters on the Island of Taquille.<br />
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We boarded our boat at the dock in Puno with 8 other tourists, met our guide Hugo, and within an hour we docked on the edge of a floating Island. We learned from Hugo how these islands are constructed with a base of the thick root structure of the reeds native to these waters. Blocks of these root structures are actually sawed under water, grouped together with stakes and tied. An anchor system keeps the islands from floating away. The Island we visited was very small as you can see from the photos, yet it sustains several families. The small huts are home to 7 or 8 family members. Amazingly, the people of the floating Islands of Uros have been living this way since the 1400’s.<br />
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While we were there, we had the chance to ride in a boat also made completely out of reeds. The money from the boat rides helps them purchase the solar panels that give them electricity. We found this to be the only modern convenience on the ‘island’. A very primitive lifestyle indeed, but one they are content with. No taxes to pay, no worries. I think we all found the experience very eye opening, and we were all thankful our home stay was on a real island and not one of these floating ones!<br />
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We got back on our boat and two hours later we arrived at Amanthani, a stunning Island where women dressed in red puffy skirts, embroidered blouses and black embroidered shawls greeted us and escorted us up the steep hill to their homes where we would be billeted. Marc and I stayed with an amazing couple, Gladys and Adolfo who we liked immediately.<br />
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Gladys and her mother in law cooked us a traditional lunch on a wood fireplace in their small kitchen. Everyone on the island by the way is a vegetarian. First course was a thick quinoa and potato soup that was delicious. The main dish or segundo as they say here, was fried salty cheese (very similar to feta), white rice, steamed potatoes and a slice or two of tomato and cucumber for garnish. Simple and delicious. Over lunch we got to know them with a bit of English and a bit of Spanish and a lot of descriptive hand movements.<br />
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We got settled in our room upstairs and at 3:00 pm we all walked up to the top of the mountain where three times a year the local people have ceremonies for pachamama and patchatata (mother and father earth) It is not a long climb, but very steep. And we were over 4000 meters so it was a tough climb. The views were spectacular and it was a spiritual experience to be there. As the sun set, we walked back down to the local restaurant, where many of us had a hot drink, then we were hosted again by Gladys and Adolfo for a hot dinner.<br />
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The evening’s entertainment was a fiesta organized by the village for all of us tourists. Gladys dressed us all up in traditional dress (including Marc) and we joined about 30 other tourists and 30 locals for the party in the main hall. There was local music, dancing and beer, and soon Gladys pulled us to the dance floor with the other local people doing a folk dance something like the hora all around the room. The young tourists in the group were quite taken by the whole thing, but Marc and I were out of breath very quickly and ducked out as soon as it was reasonably safe to do so. It had been a long day and it was time to tuck ourselves in and get some sleep.<br />
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Early the next morning we had a farewell breakfast with our family with whom, by that time, we were completely in love with and so sad to leave behind. They were so kind and so welcoming. Our short visit with them affected us much more than we anticipated. Gladys walked us back to our boat where we said our final farewells.<br />
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Next stop Taquille! On this Island they are known for their knitting and weaving — and the unusual part is that the men are the ones knitting! You can see men and woman walking together, the woman spinning yarn and the man with three knitting needles in play working on a hat. The first hour of the visit entailed yet another uphill climb to the main square of the village where we visited the co-op where the men and women sell their wares. Hugo gave a detailed description of the customs of the people of this Island before we sat down to a trout lunch (not vegetarians on this Island, but almost). After lunch we walked the rest of the way around the island and back to our awaiting boat. We had a three hour ride back to Puno, so most of us had a nice long siesta dreaming about the people we had met, the traditions we had learned about and the food we had enjoyed on three of the hundreds of Islands dotting Lake Titicaca.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggPthzb07BcEpFCOcgNi0-QVpnnzaGQNyfOJVqv40DSlz75r2lKleme4V0XiOTo0nBvyFTbl_v7dh3h8GsGzZAIAJxHNhwlN9LJRkvMcCJ634S2qW-JGPsQIJkZzTv8uasG70cfi67VLOW/s1600/knitting.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggPthzb07BcEpFCOcgNi0-QVpnnzaGQNyfOJVqv40DSlz75r2lKleme4V0XiOTo0nBvyFTbl_v7dh3h8GsGzZAIAJxHNhwlN9LJRkvMcCJ634S2qW-JGPsQIJkZzTv8uasG70cfi67VLOW/s1600/knitting.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I found this on the internet, I was not brave enough to photograph the men myself.</td></tr>
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We arrived back in Puno in late afternoon, knowing this would be our last night in Peru. What a way to end an amazing trip to an amazing country. <br />
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The next morning we boarded a bus that would take us across the border of Peru and into Bolivia. Next stop Copacabana! </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867737740292426929.post-13467720208463574172013-02-13T01:37:00.001-08:002013-02-13T05:13:09.975-08:00Puno — A cultural experience from start to finish.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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We left Cusco by bus to our next stop — Puno, which is an unassuming town on the shores of Lake Titicaca, the highest and largest navigable lake in the world. As we entered Puno, it seemed at first to have little character, dusty and forlorn. But what awaited us was a cultural experience we could not have dreamed of.<br />
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We were in Puno for two specific reasons: to experience the Candelaria Festival (Dance competition and local festival) and to visit three islands on Lake Titicaca.<br />
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We arrived Friday afternoon as the town was setting up for the celebration. Saturday morning there was a special outdoor mass at the main Cathedral, which we attended, followed by a procession of the Virgin Mary around the square. Several streets were blocked off as the dance troops created iconic art representative of their local home. They used a base of what we think was sawdust and plaster and water tinted with food colouring and then adding flower petals for decoration. Large groups were involved, some drawing the outlines of the designs, others spreading colour and brushing it into place. The results were spectacular.<br />
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In the streets, hawkers were selling raincoats, sun umbrellas, ice cream, folding chairs and an assortment of local food to the crowds that were accumulating. We also started to see dance troops arriving in full costume for the dance competition that was to begin at 7:30 am Sunday morning in the local stadium, with 80 troops listed to perform.<br />
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We arrived at the stadium Sunday morning around 9:00 am. On the way, we witnessed many of the troops that had completed their performances dancing in the street, or settling in for a day of drinking and eating along the main street outside the stadium. Even at 9:00 am, the scene was almost overwhelming.<br />
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The first weekend of the two-week festival was more of a local affair. Although there were tourists in town, primarily we sat with local townspeople in the stadium to watch the large dance troops perform. The troops have anywhere from 50-200 participants, each dressed in their local costumes. Almost all the troops included a band of bamboo wind instruments as well as percussion instruments of some kind. Each performance included an introductory dance to get them all out on the field and then another synchronized dance routine taking them all over the stadium field twisting and turning in full regalia. We were out of breath just watching them run around in heavy costumes at 13, 000 ft! <br />
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The locals were better prepared than we were for the weather and the long day in the stadium stands. Many came with picnic lunches, blankets and umbrellas. But as we witnessed the day before, hawkers were out in full force to sell you anything you forgot to bring with you. Women with bags of cooked corn, fried cheese, bread, fried trout, big hunks of cooked ham, guinea pig and chicken, chopped salad and cut limes were setting up for the lunch crowd. You could buy litre bottles of soft drinks with paper cups, ice cream, and snacks, plastic sheets or rain ponchos. Anything your heart desired was at close reach.<br />
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We took a break from the stadium after a few hours to take in the street scene. By then, thousands of dancers were in the streets, eating, drinking and dancing. A beer garden was set up, as well as endless food stands serving fried meats, chopped salads, and pressed or iced fruit juices. We had never seen anything like it.<br />
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That night there was a procession through town of all the dance troops and a party that went on until all hours of the morning. We could hear the drums in the distance from our hotel room well into the night. <br />
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When we woke up the next day, it was as if it never happened. The beautiful street art had been swept away. The dance troops had all left town. Puno had returned to its quiet self. But just an hour away, on the islands of Lake Titicaca another cultural experience awaited us. </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867737740292426929.post-86295401522190789112013-02-11T18:18:00.000-08:002013-02-11T18:18:23.679-08:00The living pueblos of the Sacred Valley<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Visiting the Sacred Valley is not all stones and terraces. Near the archeological sites of Pisac, Chincherro and Ollaytaytambo, are living Inca villages by the same names; designed in the same way they were in Incan times, using the same barter systems for trade, and the same system of moving water through their streets. It is a great experience to see the ruins and then see a living example of how it once was.<br />
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We stopped to visit the local market in Chincherro where women sold their wares to tourists and bartered their produce between themselves. We also watched a demonstration of how the local people use natural elements to dye the wool they weave and knit into hats and shawls and sashes for their local costumes. The young woman who gave the demonstration had a great sense of dry humour in both Spanish and English which made it very entertaining! There was the hope, of course, that at the end of the show we would buy souvenirs, and most of us did if only to support the local economy. Although they use the barter system as much as possible, there are things they need to buy in the big city and having cash is still a necessity.<br />
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We spent the night in Ollataytambo, a very charming town, on the way back from our visit to Machu Picchu. We stayed in a wonderful Hostal situated right at the train station. And I mean right beside the tracks. We simply got off the train and rang the bell at the door of our Hotel (El Alberque)! The place is owned and designed by Wendy Weeks, an artist from the US who settled in Ollaytaytambo. We also climbed to the ruins of Incan granaries we had viewed from the official archeological site and walked the original narrow Inca streets of the town. There we watched the clear water flow through the gutters on each side of the narrow streets, clean and fresh as in Inca times. No garbage or sewage to be seen. Our guide a few days before had explained that, to the Incas, water was sacred. Without clean water there would not be life. In today’s pueblos, in the homes built on the foundations of their ancestors’ dwellings, these people follow the same practices.<br />
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With the help of a local man in Urubamba we found and visited the studio of Pablo Seminario, a very interesting artist who has been creating ceramics using the methods of the Pre-Incan and Incan cultures. We were given the chance to visit with him and his wife in his workshop and discuss his process. After a short discussion about where he found his inspiration, he laughed and told us, his work could be called “Post-Inca”! One of his staff took us on a tour of the studio and we watched the crew of talented artists he employs throw and hand build pieces, apply coloured slip designs to them, and later burnish the painted pieces with smooth stones (as he believes through his research that the ancient people of this area would have done). We saw the large kilns the pieces are fired in and also admired the finished pieces in the Gallery Seminario. <br /><br /> The studio is also home to his extensive collection of Pre-Incan and Incan art that he studies for inspiration. His wife told us he has visions in dreams that inform his work. From talking to him, you got the sense he was a very special and spiritual man trying to keep the techniques of his ancestors alive. And of course there is the business side of things. We read that his inspired works can be found all over Peru and even on the shelves of Pier 1 Imports! <br /><br /> We travelled between these villages by combi (small local buses) or collectivos (shared taxis). In all cases we were treated fairly and felt very safe and at home with the rural Peruvians we had the chance to share a ride with. When we needed help, there was always someone to give us directions or even escort us to our destination. Often times we were speaking different languages, but the job got done. <br /><br /> Our visit to the Sacred Valley left us with a better understanding of the culture and heritage of this region. In the middle of it all we took the train to Aguas Calientes and the short bus ride to Machu Picchu where we walked through (as the heavens rained down on us), one of the most intact Inca cities in Peru. With that experience under our belt, our trip to the world of the Incas was nearly complete.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867737740292426929.post-2876368690293201322013-02-11T17:46:00.002-08:002013-02-11T17:47:25.769-08:00If the stones could talk …<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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There is much written about the Incan Empire. How large it was, how short lived it was, the customs and the culture of the people who built the huge stone temples, farmed the endless system of terraces and built the roads from Cusco in four direction. But in reality — it is only theory, because all that remains of this great empire and those that came before — are polished interlocking stones. <br />
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There is no written language to give us clues, only the decorations on shards of pottery found during archeological excavations or robbed from the graves of their well preserved mummies. And until recently, much of the pottery found all over Peru was not even correctly classified. Interestingly, there’s a linear evolution in the styles of pottery. The motifs found on Pre-Incan and Incan sites make it clear that the early peoples of Peru worshipped similar gods, ate similar foods, and led similar lifestyles. But many pieces of the puzzle are still a mystery. <br />
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For instance, it is hard to imagine how the Inca temple at Sacsayhuamán in the shape of a puma, which reportedly took over a hundred years to build, could have been accomplished without any written or at least symbolic plans that could have been passed down from work manager to work manager to complete the work. Or how the enormous stones were moved into place, or even the simple question of how they cut these large stones.<br />
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Some things are easier to piece together. The extensive terraced mountainsides surrounding every archeological site in Peru clearly indicate that the Incan civilization, and the cultures preceding it, were serious farmers. The results of their collective agricultural experimentation have provided the modern world with thousands of varieties of potatoes and other tubers. Their knowledge of micro-climates and how to utilize them for different crops was phenomenal.<br />
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I am not an historian or an archeologist, but there are clear links to the past that we have witnessed in the five weeks we have travelled through Peru visiting archeological sites and the towns, villages and cities that are within, alongside and on top of the stones laid hundreds of years previous. You can feel the connection to their rich heritage in every aspect of their lives. The deep connection to mother earth is evident in the way they rotate their crops and the way they use the barter system to manage their agricultural work and exchange of goods. From what we have learned, the many cultures that lived here through the last couple mellenia were communal in nature, and we have witnessed that modern day rural Peruvians still follow this model.<br />
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It is clear when viewing the clean shapes of the interconnecting stones at any of the archeological sites in Peru that the people who built them were very precise and organized. They planned their cities with geometrical precision. Their systems for moving water were so well planned that they are still in use today. They worshipped the earth and the sun and took great care not foul that which provided them with life. Modern day Peruvians follow the same traditions. Their streets and their homes are spotless. Their fields are beautifully planted. They live in harmony with nature leading simple lives. They work hard and celebrate hard with respect and recognition for Pachamama and Patchatata that make their lives possible.<br />
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So when you view these photos taken of what looks like piles of stones, consider the huge contribution the architects of Cusco, Machu Picchu, Sacsayhuaman, Ollantaytambo, Pisac and endless other Incan and Pre Incan cities had on the culture of modern Peru. </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867737740292426929.post-89912677599488145052013-02-02T19:01:00.000-08:002013-02-02T19:03:15.593-08:00Arequipa to Cusco first class<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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We arrived at the Arequipa bus terminal about 8:00 pm for our 8:30 departure for Cusco. This would be our second overnight bus ride in Peru, and we decided to spare no expense this time, travelling on the Cruz del Sur bus line in the superior section of the bus which was set up with spacious leatherette reclining seats, movies, dinner and hygienically sealed blankets and pillows. And of course wifi for the 12 hour ride. <br />
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The waiting room was a clue that indeed this was a classy operation. After paying our regional tax to leave Arequipa (2 soles each) and tagging our luggage, we were escorted into the very modern lounge equipped with wifi, leather seating, and TV to wait for our bus to arrive. <br />
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The bus arrived punctually and within a short time, we were comfortably seated. I have to say this is the closest we will ever get to first class travel. I am not kidding. Lots of legroom, comfy seats, and wifi (well not all the time, but still…). The bus left promptly and we even arrived half an hour early. Kudos to Cruz del Sur for a job well done! We were at our hotel, Los Andes de America within 20 minutes and shortly thereafter we were settling in to our upgraded suite. Life is good!<br />
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As we soon learned, even though it is rainy season, the mornings in Cusco are sunny and views of the Central Plaza as you enter from the side streets are spectacular. All of the architecture is stone construction, in many cases, colonial additions to Incan and Pre-Incan foundations. A mosaic of history calls to you from every stone, every oil painting, and every cedar-wood carved church alter meticulously painted with gold leaf. After a day or two visiting the designated tourist sites outlined in Frommer’s and included on the Boleto Touristico (a package of entrance fees required for both museums and Incan ruins in the Cusco vicinity and the Sacred Valley), we found ourselves with more questions than answers. The Inca and pre-Inca civilization/empire astounds and baffles at the same time.<br />
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The historical centre of town is home to the El Cathedral, Convento de Santa Catalina, Qoricancha (Temple of the Sun), numerous churches and many interesting local museums highlighting pre-Inca and Inca culture, popular and modern art, and regional history. It is also the meeting point for numerous day trips to archeological sites that literally dot the landscape in every direction from Cusco, through the Sacred Valley to Machu Picchu. If you want to catch everything several days are required. We, of course, wanted to do as much as possible, so our three days turned quickly into four and eventually into five, with a couple of extra days away to see Machu Picchu and experience the scared valley first hand. Even having spent a full week in this part of Peru, there are many stones left unturned. As a matter of fact as I am writing this post, on our bus to Puno, we just passed the town of Urcos, (that is not in any guide book) which was in full-blown local market mode as our bus passed through it. I guess we will have to catch that experience on our next trip to Peru …<br />
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The down side of being in the centre (or bellybutton as they say here) of the Incan Empire, and the jumping off point for tourists interested in trekking the Inca trail, or taking the train to Aguas Calientes to see Machu Picchu, is that it is a tourist trap. From the moment you arrive until the moment you leave, you are accosted by hawkers of day trips, raincoats, coca candies, paintings, restaurant meals, and souvenirs. If you don’t do your homework, you are likely to overpay for something if not everything. It took us a day or two to get over the feeling of being taken advantage of and realized that underneath it all was an amazing place with much to offer.<br />
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We took a half-day city tour, the salt pans of Maras, the Incan terraces of Moray, the Chinchero Sunday market, and a full day Sacred Valley tour. All were excellent with wonderful guides that shared their knowledge with us and prepared us for our trip to Machu Picchu. We learned not only about the ingenious architectural feats of the Incas, but also their knowledge of astronomy, mathematics and physics. We learned about their experimental farming that has resulted in hundreds of varieties of potatoes and other tubers that we still enjoy today. (<a href="http://www.potato2008.org/en/potato/origins.html">http://www.potato2008.org/en/potato/origins.html</a>) And all of this without any written language. <br />
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A very interesting aspect of our city tour was the descriptions of the paintings in the Cathedral. When the Spanish conquered the Incan Empire and began to convert the Quechua people to Christianity, they used paintings of depicting people and stories of the New Testament as educational tools, since there was not yet a written language for the indigenous people they were trying to convert. What came out of this was the Cusco school of art (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cuzco_School). The indigenous people became accomplished artists following European styles. The result on the walls of Churches in Peru are Renaissance style artworks, painted not by the masters, but by Indigenous people. The most interesting part of this story is that they managed to embed into these paintings symbols of their own religion, making these paintings unique as religious art.<br />
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To give you a couple of examples, a huge oil painting of the Last Supper has Jesus and the apostles feasting on guinea pig, which is the national Peruvian food for special occasions. Another interesting example is the way the Virgin Mary is depicted in all of the paintings we saw. The Quechua people, as I have mentioned in previous posts believe that the mountain symbolizes their God. When they painted the Virgin Mary, they styled her dress in the shape of a mountain. When you view the painting, there is a subliminal theme of worshiping the Virgin Mary and the mountain at the same time. The way our guide put it, his people managed to bring two religions into the Church at the same time. And it remains that way today. <br />
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Cusco is also no slouch when it comes to fine dining. We enjoyed several meals at upscale restaurants, all located in historic colonial buildings, outfitted with the best in modern kitchens and classically trained waiters looking out for our every need. Local cuisine as well as Western options were plated beautifully and taste as good as they look. <br />
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On the art scene, there are numerous shops selling local Alpaca products. Most are fakes and it is hard to find the real deal anywhere we have been. But here it seems to be even more outrageous. On the other hand, there are high-end shops selling some nice items. I can’t say fashion has hit the same highs as the food scene here. I have not found anything I wanted to buy (if I was in the market to buy anything), until we by chance found the working studio of Antonio Olave.<br />
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The studio is called Museo Taller Galleria Arte Olave. Antonio is considered a national treasure and we could very quickly see why. The master and his family were at work on several types of pottery and ceramic dolls when I walked in. I was not able to take any pictures of the work so these are from the internet. Even there, I was not able to find very many examples. Every piece is hand painted. Olave takes his inspiration from ancient cultures such as Inca, Paracas, Chimu, Moche Wari, and Nasca. His work is very detailed and each piece is unique.<br />
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On the other side of the spectrum, he also paints religious themed paintings and produces hand painted dolls. The whole family works on the dolls. We saw him working on the plaster heads and, while the woman folk in the family were hand sewing elaborate dresses for them. It was a great chance encounter with some really well made and interesting artifacts. <br />
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Even with the high altitude, and the aggravating hawkers at our feet, and the knowledge that no one leaves Cusco without being scammed at least once, our five days in this magnificent city were full of memories to last a lifetime. And hey, if we overpaid here and there, we like to think we have supported the Pruvian economy at the same time!<br />
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I have left the rest of the Sacred Valley for the next post. </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867737740292426929.post-24670624469651486962013-01-30T18:09:00.000-08:002013-01-30T18:14:32.635-08:00Arequipa Impressions<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Although my last post was from the Colca Canyon, there are four days in Arequipa and four days in Cusco that have not been documented. I have decided to keep my Arequipa post to photos only. We had a great ime there visiting museums, Monestaries and Churches as well as a half day city tour that took us Casa Fundador which was the home of the founder of Arequipa as well as to Paucarpata incan terraces.<br />
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Areqiupa is a beautiful city with a wonderful Plaza de Armas, Cathederal and quaint streets. We stayed in the Casa Andina on Jerusalen street, which was a great location to see the sights and enjoy the food. One of the highlights of our stay was dinner at ZigZag listed as the #1 eatery on trip adviser. We both concur that the reviews were correct. You will see in the photo, that we are wearing bibs. This is due to the fact that all of the meals are served on sizzling lava rock. The bibs are to take care of the spray from the cooking going on as you eat your meal.<br />
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The city is clean and colourful as you will see from the photos. Enjoy!<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867737740292426929.post-4952450691992293702013-01-30T04:41:00.000-08:002013-01-30T18:18:07.579-08:00A mixture of ups and downs in the Colca Canyon<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Arequipa is the jumping off point for a growing number of excursions to the Colca Canyon. These trips come in all shapes and sizes at different levels of comfort and difficulty for as little as one day or as many as four days. There are dozens of tourist outlets in the centre of town eager to explain the trips to you in great detail. Each sales person points out the “unique” itinerary only their company can provide. After two or three sales pitches, the details begin to blur and it becomes more and more difficult to connect the price to the content.<br />
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The difficult part of the decision for us was whether or not to trek into the canyon or just enjoy it from the top. And the even more difficult part was knowing exactly what we were getting ourselves into if we did. Aaron and Melissa had done a two-day trip into the canyon on their visit to Peru two years ago and that got us thinking we should give it a go. <br />
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I think it was the fourth sales person we had invested half an hour with that seemed to be able to put a trip together that included all of the pieces of the puzzle we were interested in. We soon learned that he was from Ayacucho, which endeared him to us even more. The trip would be four days three nights and included many interesting stops we knew about and, in the end, many we didn’t that were very pleasant surprises. But there were also parts of the trip that were much more difficult than (I) expected. We had definitely signed up for an adventure. <br />
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Marc reminded me yesterday that it is the most challenging parts of each trip you remember the most when the trip is over. No pain, no gain as they say. But for me, the 12k downhill, extremely (this is an understatement) difficult second day of our four-day trip into the Canyon may be the experience I choose to forget! There are so many good things about the trip that I choose not to dwell on the difficult in this post, but rather on the wonders of the natural environment in the canyon, the friendship of two young Australian couples we shared the experience with, the delicious local food we consumed along the way, the thermal pools we soothed our sore muscles in, and the gracious local people we had the pleasure to meet. <br />
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There were some really funny parts as well that brought back memories of Southeast Asia. Let me start there. <br />
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As I was beginning to explain, we were dealing with apples and oranges as we discussed options with many tourist agencies, so when we finally had paid for our trip, and were waiting to be picked up the next morning, it was completely unclear what was actually going to happen. Many tour buses of many sizes and shapes passed by our hotel picking up people. The time we were supposed to be picked up came and went, and we were still sitting patiently on the steps of our hotel. We had tried calling the tour operator (who assured us he was available 24/7) to no avail. Marc decided to walk down to the office, which was a couple blocks away from our hotel, and found our gracious Ayacucho tour agent sitting in his office with his phone charging and turned off. He was surprised to see Marc, but immediately made a call and assured him that our bus would be coming by any minute. By the time Marc returned, someone had arrived to escort us to our bus. If you have read any of my posts from Southeast Asia — this will sound very familiar. <br />
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Over the next 24 hours, we were escorted on and off three different vehicles at different stops along the route. Each with different guides and a different assortment of passengers. And before we returned to Arequipa, there were a few more adjustments to our transportation. But the good news is that none of this bothered us at all. In fact, it seemed to add to the excitement of the trip! <br />
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The first day’s itinerary took us from Arequipa to the town of Chivay, which is the jumping off point to Colca Canyon. There were numerous stops along the way. First, we stopped to pick up water, coca leaves and coca candies, which were all definitely items we would need. We stopped soon after to have a cup of tea including coca and two other herb ‘infusions’, while viewing interesting geological formations, on yet another stopped to see llamas, vicunas, and alpacas up close. Our next stop was a viewpoint at the dizzying elevation of 4910 metres (16,109 ft) where we could see the peaks of the numerous active volcanoes that keep Peruvians at the edge of their seats waiting for the next big quake.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisZ30UftQAHWB3rWNbL-3Xwq5uMoF6N1zZWeV8KZNEbll5LqGd-hGHXiyZY_kffWxi6DEUA3zJja6LdCNAQ7i_nve-9XEQb1aRPUrNu05mbRSIaJv0Zis12O36jnJD2GW-1Wg_mOmzcoms/s1600/handicraft1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisZ30UftQAHWB3rWNbL-3Xwq5uMoF6N1zZWeV8KZNEbll5LqGd-hGHXiyZY_kffWxi6DEUA3zJja6LdCNAQ7i_nve-9XEQb1aRPUrNu05mbRSIaJv0Zis12O36jnJD2GW-1Wg_mOmzcoms/s1600/handicraft1.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Everywhere we stopped there were local woman selling handicrafts.</td></tr>
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We arrived in Chivay in early afternoon, where we were treated to the most amazing buffet lunch of every possible local delicacy. Even with the elevation and our uneasy stomachs, we could not resist plate after plate of this delicious food. After being dropped at our hotels, the activity for the afternoon was a trip to the local hot springs, which we declined in order to relax a bit and walk around the centre of town. But that was not the end of the day’s activities. We were picked up from our hotel at 7:00 pm and delivered to a folkloric dinner restaurant where we were entertained with local music and folk dances performed by two very talented dancers who changed into different costumes for each dance routine. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSPJgkvGOTeqHU0Q3PkBJe0q-BI2vlr2m543PZt1RKkf8WFPVaXCvv1CIvxOtNkJc0lv7cS0saG67NiyagxOJ5WdFo25ml0u-FmtQma0tPCucR4gg7a3nfOXR72s6PJ-_U9CvB7nquB3-2/s1600/churches.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSPJgkvGOTeqHU0Q3PkBJe0q-BI2vlr2m543PZt1RKkf8WFPVaXCvv1CIvxOtNkJc0lv7cS0saG67NiyagxOJ5WdFo25ml0u-FmtQma0tPCucR4gg7a3nfOXR72s6PJ-_U9CvB7nquB3-2/s1600/churches.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There were white Colonial Churches in each town we visited. Always in the Plaza de Armas.</td></tr>
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And that was only day 1!<br />
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Day 2 is where the adventure began in earnest. Everyone else we spent day 1 with was returning to Arequipa the next day. So it took us a couple of additional vehicle transfers until we found ourselves with Pepe, our new guide and fellow trekkers Bret, Ainslie, Tracy and Joe. (We were old enough to be their parents, and my “Oh my god, how will we be able to keep up with them?” radar was fully operational.) <br />
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Our first stop that morning was Cruz del Condor, which is the lookout point to view the mighty condors, the Quechua symbol of the heavens. At this spot if you are lucky you will see large numbers of condors catching the wind currents as they glide above the canyon. We were not that lucky and only had a chance to view a couple from afar. But the views of the valley were spectacular, so our 20-minute stop was still enjoyable. <br />
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We then found ourselves in the quaint town of Cabanaconde for lunch, where Pepe sat us down and drew a diagram of each day of the trek, indicating the terrain, the difficult areas and the number of hours each part would take. I knew I was in trouble immediately, but hoped for the best. The first day was 12k, for the most part straight down in difficult terrain. The second day would be for the most part straight up for another 12k and the last day he warned, was the most challenging! Yikes … I asked Pepe to arrange for walking sticks for us, and started preparing myself mentally for the grueling downhill trek. <br />
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Then we began our trek. <br />
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The landscape was beautiful, but it took a lot of concentration for all of us to stay upright so much of it was lost on us. The trail was loose gravel at a fairly steep grade and each step had to be taken with great care. Pepe, with a heavy pack on his back, was practically running down hill. The other four were hot on his trail. Marc and I were watching each step seriously using our walking sticks to help us along. I was convincing myself with each step that my legs were getting stronger rather than weaker, but it was a losing battle. <br />
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Luckily our final destination was an amazing hostal: Llahuar Lodge at the bottom of the canyon, outfitted with two thermal pools. Marc and I were the last to arrive (no surprise!). It had taken every last ounce of energy to get my jelly legs across the finish line and I was more than a little concerned about the next two days … You see we were at the bottom of the canyon, and the only way out as far as I knew was by foot — or donkey, which was not a comforting thought, considering the terrain. <br />
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I have to say there were a few moments of panic, but very quickly Marc, my knight in shining armor, had a quick talk with Yolanda who was helping Robert and his family run the Lodge, and we had a plan. They would drive us back to Cabanaconde the next morning in their 4x4 Jeep. We would stay the night there and meet up with Pepe, Bret, Ainslie, Tracy and Joe for the drive back to Arequipa. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirSiulEagi4bE8y3aog88uhbEm_Dmabg1lcSNFwmmhnfUIUmFR9XkptrmA06MLk4D_Kp3KjV2B4EDZEV54CNi1pR6TWlqXQ24jKFIMiaJr2gicU-M-bRO68Ty9BI0pwzl4nQPtq4-ipid0/s1600/fellow+trekkers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirSiulEagi4bE8y3aog88uhbEm_Dmabg1lcSNFwmmhnfUIUmFR9XkptrmA06MLk4D_Kp3KjV2B4EDZEV54CNi1pR6TWlqXQ24jKFIMiaJr2gicU-M-bRO68Ty9BI0pwzl4nQPtq4-ipid0/s1600/fellow+trekkers.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bret, Ainslie, Tracy and Joe</td></tr>
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With personal disaster averted, we all headed down to the thermal pools to relax and stretch our very sore muscles. Meanwhile, Yolanda, Robert and the rest of the staff at the lodge were preparing dinner for us. Refreshed after our soak, we sat down to a great corn soup followed by a fish fry, fresh from the gorge with green beans and potatoes. We all had lemon grass tea with our meal which was delicious! We all finished every morsel looking out over the amazing scenery. <br />
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The lodge, we later learned, can accommodate 40 trekkers each night. Robert and his parents had cleared the land (the lodge is on the side of a cliff) and brought all the materials down by donkey to create this oasis in the middle of nowhere. Until they purchased the 4x4 jeep, all the food for all of their guests had to be brought down by donkey as well. Sleeping quarters are in adorable bamboo huts. Accommodations are basic to be sure, but kept very clean and are so appropriate to the surroundings. <br />
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Yolanda, Robert and Robert’s mama drove us back to Cabonaconde the next morning. Robert and Yolanda have been a couple for the last seven years, Yolanda explained on the way to town. On and off she said, but they make a good couple since Robert is different from other Peruvian men. He supports her desire to be a modern woman. We found her fascinating in so many ways. As Robert maneuvered the tricky mountain gravel road, I asked Yolanda about the embroidered hats all of the women in the canyon wore. <br />
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She explained that the designs on the hat and its shape told the story of her people. The Quechua, like many indigenous peoples, believe in mother earth or Pachamama as the creator. God for them, is represented by the mountains. Different indigenous groups in the area worshipped different mountains and therefore wore hats in different shapes. One of the mountains was flat, another was pointy. <br />
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The hat Robert’s mama wore had a flat top, which indicated which region she came from. The design on the top of the hat depicts the mountains in a circular pattern creating a star representing the constellations in the sky, which was also an important part of their religious beliefs. Decorating the rest of the hat are motifs from nature in the region. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yolands, Robert and his mama</td></tr>
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Robert’s mama was taking the trip into Cabanaconde, with several donkey sacks full of “tuna”, the Peruvian word for prickly pears, which she had picked that morning. When we arrived in town, we all helped carry them to the public bus she was taking to another town where she would sell or trade her fruit for other supplies required at the lodge. That is the way things are done here. Before she hopped on her bus, she in turn gave her son, Yolanda and both of us a warm hug and kiss and bid us farewell. In a matter of hours we had become part of their family! <br />
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Robert and Yolanda took us to a couple of hostals to be sure we were well situated in town before we embraced them both and thanked them for all of their help and kindness. Although we had missed out of the rest of the trek, the time we had with this family will truly be cherished. <br />
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The next morning we were reunited with our group where we shared a hot breakfast and heard their stories about the trail. It was very challenging, but they all made it through and were feeling sore but exhilarated. We were very happy for them that they had survived the challenge. I remained relieved that we had made the decision we had made! <br />
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The ride back to Arequipa was again full of interesting stops, including another thermal pool, which we all had a soak in. This one was nice and hot. We all enjoyed the therapeutic effects of the waters. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We saw views of the Volcanoes on our way back that were spectacular. This is Misti. </td></tr>
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Several hours later we were back in Arequipa. Tracy and Joe were taking a bus a few hours later to meet their Inca Trail trekking group in Cusco. Bret and Ainslie were catching a bus to the Peruvian border and on to Chile. We had one more night left in Arequipa before heading to Cusco ourselves to discover the Sacred Valley and Machu Picchu. We exchanged contact information and warm hugs and parted ways. <br />
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An amazing four days with great people in a very special part of Peru — the Colca Canyon. </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867737740292426929.post-45153118607205934912013-01-25T06:49:00.002-08:002013-01-25T06:57:40.538-08:00Drawings from 400 and 650 AD, mummies from 200 AD and Pyrimids from 500 AD all in one place<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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The lovely staff at the <a href="http://www.hostaltambocolorado.com/home.htm">Hostal Tambo Colorado</a> in Pisco, not only organized our tours while we were there but they also took care of our transfer to the bus station and our tickets to Nasca which was the next destination on our itinerary. <br />
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Accommodations in Nasca, from everything we had heard, were very basic so we decided to create a short list and take our chances. It is a small town and we figured it would be easy to walk from one to the other once we got there. We let our guard down a bit and were not prepared for the swarm of hotel reps and cab drivers that met our bus. <br />
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Out of the din of cab drivers calling out their fares, came a voice in perfect English. We looked in that direction and met for the first time, Juan Carlos (Carlos for short), a very kind and helpful man who took great care of us for our two days in Nasca. We also had the good luck to find a last minute deal on expedia for the only decent hotel in town, Casa Andina. So in quick order, we were settled and getting organized for yet another unique Peruvian experience. <br />
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The town of Nasca is <i>unremarkable</i> in every way. But the surrounding area is <i>remarkable</i> in EVERY way. Everywhere you move some dirt or sand around within 15 or 20 km in this desert landscape, you will either come up with 1000-year-old ruins of the Nascan civilization, or completely preserved mummies with hair teeth and skin in place. And if you fly over the area you will see the famous Nasca lines that archeologists have been trying to figure out since they were first discovered by the Peruvian archaeologist Toribio Mejia Xesspe in 1927. <br />
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For most, a visit to Nasca includes a flight over the lines and a quick exit out of town. Since we have nothing but time, we decided to stay two days and see what we could see. We spent our first afternoon and evening visiting several tour companies and figuring out a game plan. <br />
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First problem when we woke up the next morning was that Nasca was fogged in. Hum, we thought. Good thing we have two days. No use taking a flight over the lines if we couldn’t see anything. So we headed back in the direction of the tour companies and the bus station. That’s when we bumped into Carlos again. He took us over to his office and within a few minutes we had a whole day planned. <br />
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Getting to know Carlos that day was as interesting as the places he took us to and the amazing things we saw. He had done so many things in his life and worked so many different jobs, and lived in so many places that he had a depth of knowledge that was astounding. And, lucky for us, he had spent several years in the US and could share it with us in almost perfect English. <br />
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We first went to the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cahuachi">Cahuachi Pyramids</a> archeological site, which was a major ceremonial center of the Nasca civilization from approximately 1-500 AD. The construction of the pyramids was all adobe bricks which have withstood the test of time. There are dozens of pyramids throughout the site, but only one has been completely uncovered and reassembled. A second pyramid is being uncovered now by an archeological team from Italy. From the discoveries here and in other sites nearby, archeologists and historians believe that it was the Nasca civilization that created the figures etched into the flat desert landscape not too far away, known as the Nasca Lines. Designs on pottery and woven cloth found in excavations resemble those found etched into the ground. But how did they create them and why? Who were they creating them for since they can only be seen from the sky? There are many theories, and I will let you read more about it <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nazca_Lines">here</a>. <br />
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Carlos then took us to the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chauchilla_Cemetery">Chauchilla Cemetery</a><b>, </b>a very eerie place that we still can’t get our heads around. The Nasca people, like the Egyptians, buried their dead after preserving them in mummy form. The dead were cleaned and placed in a fetal position, wrapped in cotton and cloth and buried facing east to be able to see their sun god in the next life. They were buried with beautifully painted pottery and other artifacts from life. Due to the desert climate and their methods of preservation, many mummies have been found completely intact. We visited a cemetery where several mummies are still (supposedly) exactly where they have been since Nasca times. These photos are not for the weak of heart. I am still having nightmares! <br />
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(We later visited the Museo Antonini that further documents all this with beautiful pottery and additional mummies that have been set up in the museum and in the beautiful garden in the back of the museum.) <br />
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On the way back to Nasca, Carlos stopped at a field of cacti to show us something we had never seen before. The cacti had a white powdery fungus growing on them. Ends up, under this fungus is an insect called cochineal from which the red coloured dye carmine is derived. He pressed some of the insect eggs between his fingers and instantly they were red in colour. This natural dye historically used to colour fabrics is now used for cosmetics amongst other things.<br />
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When Carlos discovered that we had not yet organized a flight over the lines, he called his contact at the airport to be sure we got seats in the smallest plane. Just Marc and I and two pilots. He said it would be easier for us to see the lines and to hear the pilots as they described what we were seeing. <br />
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A taxi picked us up at 7:25 AM the next morning and we made our way to the airport. Shortly after 9:00 am we were in the air. Or at least our bodies were in the air. If you ask Marc, he would say his stomach was still on the ground. The plane was very small and we were doing loops so that both of us could see the ancient geoglyphs below us. Both of us were trying to take photos, see what was going on, and concentrate on not losing our cookies in the process. I did better than Marc, but we were both glad to be on terra firma again 30 minutes later.<br />
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Truth be told, they are quite hard to see, and in the few seconds you have to figure out what you are seeing and then take a picture of it without barfing, our photographic results are not stellar. But I have found some images on the internet along with the best of our shots to give you an idea of what the lines look like if you are looking down upon them from above. We can tell you first hand that they do exist. What we cannot verify is who or how they were made, or how they still exist after so many centuries. It is a mystery, which made the experience that much more exciting. <br />
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Carlos picked us up at the airport and brought us back to our hotel and we saw him a couple more times before we left. He came to see us at our hotel to bid us a final goodbye and to pass on information for our stay in Arequipa. He even arranged for someone to be at the bus station in Arequipa to guide us to a safe taxi. We felt like we had really made a friend, and I guess the best way we can thank him is to let you know that there is an amazing tour guide named Carlos in Nasca who will show you an amazing time. Juan Carlos Rojas can be reached at <a href="mailto:juancarlos3891@hotmail.com">juancarlos3891@hotmail.com</a>. <br />
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