The Inca Trail

There aren´t words to describe the last 4 days. Well, there are some (exhausting, painful, difficult, trying).... but the real (awesome) essence of the experience is difficult to capture. The Inca trail is a 4 day, 42 km hike over Andean passes an valleys to the famed ancient Inca city of Machu Picchu. No one really knows what Machu Picchu is or was. It dates from around 1500 at the height of the Inca Empire though it wasn´t discovered until 400 years later. Sitting at about 9000ft above the Urubamba river in the saddle between two peaks, Machu Picchu (from where the site gets its name) and Wayna Picchu (the towering peak in all the pictures), it was clearly a special place. It may have been an ordinary city, or a ceremonial one. Or maybe it was a vacation getaway for the Inca king. The city´s houses, temples, fountains and stairways (there are over 300o steps) are constructed mainly of precicely cut, interlocking, giganitic granite blocks. There are sundials, astrological calendars and windows carefully aligned to capture the rays of the solstice sun. It is an architectural and historic wonder.
The Inca trail runs over new trails and ancient, stone-paved Inca roads and stairways. With ascents and decents of up to 3000 ft at a time, it is quite the adventure. Our small group of 3 hikers and a guide was supported by 6, yes 6, porters who doubled as cooks and camp crew. Without them, we could never have done it.
Day one started at 4:30 am in Cusco (50 miles away) and ended at our campsite at about the same afternoon hour. Atmospheric clouds and fog began to fill the valley below our 12,000ft position. Exhausted, we were asleep by 9. Day two brought steep climbing over two passes at 14000 and 12000 ft and day 3 a decent of about 3600 ft. A landslide earlier in the month had closed the usual last leg of the journey to Machu Picchu forcing us to make camp in the town of Aguas Calientes, the usual jumping off point for day trippers to Machu Picchu. The final push began with a 3am wake up scratch on the tent. Another 1200ft up to make it to Machu Picchu by sunrise.
The road had been difficult but gorgeous. Our ascents brought us to gorgeous views of snow-capped peaks (some of the tallest in Peru) dotted with billowy, white clouds and our decents to sub-topical jungle replete with thick mosses, orchids, tangled vines and knotted trees. Along the way we visited several small but beautiful Inca sites - temples, resting places for messengers, terraced farms, homes. For me, the trail and sites put Machu Picchu and the Inca Civilization in a clear context I would never have grasped otherwise. Living in difficult mountainous conditions, the Incas seemed to face nature saying nothing will get in our way. We will worship mother nature (pachamama) yet conquer her through our building and sheer force of living.
Machu Picchu itself is immense (5 sq mi) and breathtaking. The background peak (Wayna Picchu) is even more impressive in reality than in pictures. The details of construction are mindboggling. I spent the day learning a bit from the tour and mainly just sitting, watching, letting it all soak in.
There are many more impressions- ask me about the porters- than I will describe here. Needless to say, the Inca Trail and Machu Picchu will stay with me.

Bollywood in Peru?

I walked into the central market (a bustling place packed with vendors of every imaginable item from food to pots and pans to clothing) in Cusco, Peru today and what was blaring over the loudspeakers? Old Indian film songs.. yes, Bollywood has hit Cusco too. I chuckled my way through the isles and sat down for a delicious hot chocolate because I couldn't cut short the experiene of listening to Indian music in the middle of the Peruvian Andes.
These last few days brought a brief visit to La Paz and a few relaxing days on the shores of Lake Titicaca. La Paz is unimaginable. Set at about 3600m altitude, it is a city in a bowl. Imagine the convergence of a valleys surrounded by snowcapped Andean Peaks. From the top to the bottom of the valley walls, forming a circular bowl, sat thousands, probably millions of terra-cotta colored houses. La Paz is a congested, slightly dangerous, developing world capital city, but it is like no other in its setting. In my 24 hours there, I explored the alleys of colonial architecture, the witches' market where you can find dried llama fetuses, and handicrafts stalls - and ate some delicious Lebanese food!
From La Paz, I jumped on a bus to Copacabana, on the shores of Lake Titicaca. At 3800m, it is the world's higest navigable lake. In it sits Isla del Sol, the site of the Inca creation myth. With a couple of others from the UK, Canada and the US, I explored the simple villages and terraced, green hills of this beautiful island.
As I headed to Cusco, my final destination, Copacabana was filling up fast with Bolivian pilgrims for Good Friday and the yearly candle-lit vigil of thousands. I was sorry to miss the spectacle, but Machu Pichu was calling.

The brightest spot on earth

Earier this week I visited the Salar de Uyuni in central Bolivia. This was, hands down, the most amazing visual experience of my trip. At over 3000 square miles, the salar de Uyuni is the worlds biggest salt flat. From space, the Salar is the brightest spot on the earth. It is a dried up, prehistoric lake with a rocky island in the middle covered with cacti. A few minutes into a stroll on this island one realizes that the rock is not rock, but ancient coral.
One usualy visits the salt flats on a 3 or 4 day 4-wheel drive journey from Bolivia or Northern Chile. I started in San Pedro de Atacama in Northern Chile. Atacama itself is known for its moon-like desert landscapes. I piled into an old landcruiser with 4 other travellers- Jean and Vincent from France, Andrew from the States, and Laura from the UK- and Sandro, the quiet, knowledgable driver (his job description also included guide, cook, mechanic and people-herder). We set off on a journey I believe none of us will ever forget.
Day one brought us to bubbling, gurgling steaming geysers at about 4000m elevation. The heat and force sent mud flying in all directions. The sounds of mud burping and belching were accompanied by giggles all around. We got to experience the heat of he earth ourselves as our next stop was a hot spring in unforgetable desert surroundings. The heat of the springs were followed by the cold of a high-altitude night, but we all surived bundled in sleeping bags and layers of wool blankets.
Day 2 began with a sunrise over Lago Colorado, a lake colored red by the microorgnisms within. For this reason, the flamingoes, yes flamingoes, that fed on this lake were the pinkest of pink. Not only did we see a red lake, but a green one as well due to oxidizing minerals (we even saw it change from blue to green over the course of about 15 minutes), and a purely white one due to ice and precipitating salts. All of these were at over 3000m elevation. This night we stayed in the Salt Hotel on the edge of the salt flat. Walls, floors, tables and chairs were made purely of salt. You´d think it would be kitchy, it was, but cool as well.
Then came day 3, the salt flats. Words cannot describe the experience of stepping out onto a flat plain of pure, blinding white as far as the eye could see. This white was met by the bluest sky and the brightest sun. Parts of the flat were covered in a few inches to a foot of water creating a bright white lake that was continuous with the reflected sky. THERE WAS NO HORIZON. It was an oddly dizzying, disorienting, and even vertiginous experience for some.
We crossed the dry and wet flats in our vehicle without roads or landmarks. Without compass, the drivers navigated by experience alone. At least 4 flat tires and a 2 hour ordeal digging a truck out of the mud later, our caravan completed it´s unforgetable adventure.
Pics aren´t up yet, but will be soon.

So what happened?

So I left you at the Bolivian transportation strike. That was April 4. As the day moved towards night, travellers started finding eachother to pass the hours until we could leave the border town. Rumors flew as to whether there would actually be transport. Maybe at 6pm, maybe at 9. Maybe a taxi to the next town. So we waited till the next morning when we thought transport would resume and we could move onwards but no such luck! No trains for 4 or 5 days and a new strike at the next town prevented any entries or departures along the connecting road - the only road to our destination. Again rumors flew - the block was only 2 km from the next town, we could walk from there, no..... it was 30 km away..... and who knew if there would be yet another strike the next day. These two strikes represented very different causes. The first, stopping transport, was initiated by the shipping and transportation companies in protest of paying (any) taxes to the government to do their work. One wonders why the Bolivian economy is in the pits. The second, by workers of all kind, protesting in support of workers rights in general. And for good cause - as we passed the border, we witness hundreds of Bolivians (young to old) running repeatedly across the border with 50 lb sacs of cement on their backs. Why? If the goods were transported across the border by trucks, the companies would have to pay import duties. With this human transport, the border crossing was free, but at what price?
So, there was no reliable information regarding our transport situation. In the end, I found Xavier, a Frenchman living in Holland, also travelling on his own. We packed up and returned to Argentina - again! 8 hours back to Salta and then another 7 across to Chile the next day. Gorgeous drive, but what an adventure!

On the move

Just spent a rainy few days heading up north towards Bolivia. Northern Argentina is spectacular. Miles of land with no evidence of man in sight. Colorful gorges, snaking rivers and tiny towns dot the landscape. The indigenous influence becomes far more evident as you go north. By the time I reached the border, it was clear I was heading into a very different country. I´m in Bolivia now, but stuck at a border town because of a transportation strike! It´s supposed to be lifted tonight.
At my last stop in Argentina I encountered an unusual peanut vendor. He was young, dressed in all black including a fedora style hat, and pensive. We chatted, he asked me where I was from. When I said the States, he said, "Ah the United States, they say we [Argentinians] can´t call ourselves Americans anymore." He then pulled out the book he had quoted from. The passage went on to discuss how the States has usurped the word. Though very controlled, the anti-USA ill-feeling has been palpable in all parts. It is clearly directed towards the government and not the people, but still leaves you with a sinking feeling.

Cacti

Heading north from Tucuman, I hit Salta. The big city of the north, atmospheric as my guidebook describes it. The architecture is colonial and colorful. Northern Argentina is known for some very delicious regional dishes. I´ve faithfully sampled each of them.
Locro is a rich stew of beans, beef (meat and other parts I think) and hominy- very similar to cassoulet. Empanadas are like small baked pastries filled with meat or cheese and baked in a big oven. They´re found all over Argentina, but are particularly savory here in the north. Humita is kind of a cross between a tamale and corn chowder. A salty or sweet puree of corn and cheese steamed in corn husks. They eat llama up here too. My favorite has been the locro.
I took a daytrip to a tiny village about 3 hours outside of Salta called Cachi. The drive takes you through a spectacular gorge and valley. The valley walls are covered in lush, green brush, low trees and grassess, so evenly distributed it has the appearance of silky velvet. A snaking dirt road winds its way along the valley floor and up out of the gorge to Cordones national park. Imagine thousands of cacti strewn along these lush green mountainsides (hard to imagine no?). And these cacti are huge - candelabras of 2 to 10 arms with more buds in every direction, 15 feet and taller.
Very intermittently one spots a tiny house, church or school, though they are usually hiding behind hills and trees. Cemetaries dot hilltops reflecting the Inca and indigenous influence. They both believed the world of the dead exists above the world of the living, closer to they sky. So this is where we find the cemetaries. And this is where some explorers found 3 child sacrifices- at about 6000 meters elevation, on a volcano.


More stories and pictures to come...

Argentina, again!

So I couldn´t stay away. I thought I had left Argentina for good a few weeks ago but now I am back! In Chile I decided to come back and head north through Argentina rather than through Chile. I guess there´s something about this place....
So, I´m in Tucuman, Argentina´s Philadelphia, the birthplace of its declaration of independence and constitution. The fight for Argentina´s freedom began after Napoleon invaded Spain in 1808. 8 years later, Argentina was free. Its independence is celebrated on July 9th and most cities, like Tucuman, have a major avenue named after this date. Argentina was actually supposed to be the United States of South America - that is actually what is written on its declaration of independence.
From here I go north to Salta and the cities in the Andean region above. Plans are still in flux, we´ll see what the future brings.
Oh yeah, by the way, I took a 30-hour bus ride to get here. Not as bad as it sounds.... and lots of thinking time.

Road Trip!

So my new found British friends (Lucy and Dominick) and I set off for a road trip on the 20th after we disembarked from the Navimag. After a bit of usual delay, car keys in hand, we sped up highway 5 - a true highway- from Puerto Montt to Pucon. There we planned to climb a volcano. Seeing a country by car is a whole different experience. You stop where you want to stop, go where you want to go. The views from the highway were spectacular, especially a purple and pink sunset bathing the perfect, snow-capped cone of a volcano.
In Pucon, we got our fill of hot springs (went twice, once at midnight!), waterfalls and a volcano. See my pics and you´ll know. The Volcan Villarrica is a perfect cone capped with snow. We were geared up with water¨proof¨clothing, crampons and even a gas mask! We climbed about 3000 feet over the course of the morning to arive at the top for wonderful views and a noseful of sulfurous fumes! Going down may have been the best part as we did it on our butts!

And then there were two. Lucy and I parted way with Dominick and headed off in search of more hot springs. Our plan was to see the lakes region and we did so driving on dirt roads through gorgeous green farms and uninhabited lakes. The rains came which made us look at the map again. "Look! There are some hot springs!" Several lakes, bumpy roads and 5 hours later, we arrived at our destination, Aguas Calientes, Chile. Ready for a warm soak under the stars, we ran into the office to find the springs closed! So much for spontanaety.
But all was well, we found a perfectly cute little cabin on the shore of one of the largest area lakes and cooked ourselves a great dinner. Sometimes the best times happen when you least expect them.