Okay, okay. I'll write something!

Enough people have asked me to write something so I'm writing that I'm still volunteering in Pisco, really enjoying the work, the people and the atmosphere. Decided to stay on a bit longer than planned, and maybe stay even long term if nothing develops with wineries for the fall harvest... vamos a ver as we say down here.

There is a four day weekend starting tomorrow, as Peru's Independence Day just happens to be my birthday. A very happy Peruvian birthday to me as the whole country will be celebrating with me. Must grab a feliz 28 de julio poster!

Tomorrow a group of us head to the beach for the weekend to lay by the waves, give our callused hands a rest, and quite possibly learn how to surf.

And here are a few pictures to give a taste of where I am...

Besos chicos.

PSF's first modular house and one of the sons who lives there:

Garden of Eden party last Saturday night, complete with tuk-tuk for its sound system:

Local kids playing on a PSF-built playground:

A week in Lima: Like Miami, sans sun and with lots of ceviche

A slight change in plans... last week I decided to apply to Pisco Sin Fronteras, where Judith was signed up to volunteer, for two weeks. Rather than selfishly bask in the sun on a beach in Northern Peru and take surfing classes for three weeks, I'm taking up carpentry, plumbing, dry walling and/or painting and helping the town of Pisco rebuild (having been devastated by the 2007 earthquake). They are overstaffed at the moment so I'll have to stay in a hostel down the street rather than in the organization's house. They have something like 80+ volunteers at the moment.

We are starting tomorrow, which gave us a week to relax and hang out in Lima. A very long, relaxing week. In Lima "winter" means eternal gray skies, a lingering mist, and an average temperature in the low 70s. We stayed in Miraflores, the yuppy part of town along the beach, with leafy cul-de-sacs, dogs dressed in sweaters and juice bars, cevicherias or coffee shops on nearly every corner. Add on the non-indigenous looking locals who ooze American trends and style, and it really reminds me of Miami. And they take credit card! And you can put toilet paper in the toilets! Back in civilization, folks.

We spent the week taking advantage of the crazy cheap almuerzos del dia, meaning $4 two or three course meals, full of fresh off the boat ceviche and fish. The wet weather made us feel quite lazy, and much time was spent watching movies in the hostel, as the movie theaters are overrun with bad American kids movies such as Transformers 3 or Pirates of the Caribbean or some penguin movie with Jim Carrey. We went one night and saw the least bad looking movie, Limitless, which was of course less than par for Robert DeNiro, and then we made it a double feature by finding an actual Spanish movie with Javier Bardem, Biutiful. Unfortunately since it was already in Spanish, there were no subtitles, and a lot of the already bizarre movie was lost on us.

Feeling like we needed a dose of culture, we ventured into central Lima one day, walked around the Plaza del Armas and the Central Mercado. Colonial architecture was surprisingly beautiful.

Found a little street outside the Plaza, near the water, with stand after stand of local artisinal treats, as well as anticuchos, which my dad warned me away from (grilled cow hearts? No thanks!) After much debate, we settled on an arroz con leche kind of dessert, mixed with some syrupy fruity stuff.

Before getting to Lima, my dad made me promise to check out Haiti Restaurant. He ate there in the 70s and was still dreaming of their chirimoya pie. Haiti still exists, in all its 1970s-business-men-who-lunch glory, but unfortunately the chirimoya pie does not. The waiter said they stopped serving it in the 70s, but suggested I try the carrot cake instead. It. was. the. best. carrot. cake. of. my. life. I will still be dreaming of it when my kids head to Peru in 2030.

Due to all the desserts, I dutifully made it to the beach a couple of mornings for a few runs along the coast, with parks full of kids skateboarding, people playing tennis, artsy statues and other runners. Felt like home.

Now off to Pisco to hammer and nail for the next two weeks.

Happy 4th of July Weekend. With Love, from Peru.

Huacachina, Peru.

Macchu Pichu, Colca Canyon, Pink Eye and a Cold

So I've been a bit delinquent in writing due to many factors: days and day of trekking, shit internet connection in the hostels, a mild head cold mixed with a lingering case of pink eye, and the basic lack of desire to type. A three night bout of insomnia finally ended last night after having a few drinks in Arequipa, the second largest city in Peru, known for its white buildings and proximity to the Colca Canyon.

So back to Cusco, the Salkantay Trek, and Macchu Pichu. The five day, 100 km trek was definitely the hardest camping/trekking I've done, which really doesn't say much considering my lack of real hiking experience, but I still felt really good about it.

We averaged about 20k a day in 4-7 hours, lots of ups and downs (highest point was almost 5,000 meters above sea level). It went from below freezing the first night to jungle conditions with coffee and banana plantations on all sides on the fourth day. Second day, view of the valley where I felt like Jurassic Park was filmed:

By the time we got to Aguas Calientes, the jumping off point for MP, on the fourth afternoon, we were all looking pretty rustic. Fortunately the third afternoon treated us to a few hours of relaxing in newly created hot springs, so we were smelling okay. (First shower after 4 days was in Aguas Calientes).

First taste of Inca Cola on the 4th Day of trekking:

The fifth day was the climax of the trek, waking at 3:30 am to get to the gates of the entrance to MP city by 4:30, as they open the gates at 4:50, and the first 400 people up get passes to climb Wayna Picchu. After a very tough 45 minutes of climbing gigantic stairs (in the dark- Judith had a head torch but I left her halfway in, so had to tag along with strangers with lights) to the gates, passing people who were panting, sitting, or vomiting on the sides of the stairs, I was maybe number 20 in line. Got my 10am stamp for Wayna Picchu, and then it was time to wait again, until the real gates to MP city opened at 6am. We got in, and it was a cloudy overcast over all the city:

Once we were in, our guide Walter gave us a two hour tour, explaining the ruins and history of the ancient city. By 8am we were left to our own devices to explore, get coffee, and wait until we could climb WP at 10.

Judith and I headed in 15 minutes to 10, and started the ascent. Having not read anything about WP or knowing what to expect, I was more than surprised when I got near the top and the teeny tiny steps climbing what it felt like 90 degrees. I was literally holding on to the side of the mountain, not looking down, and wondering if this was really what we were supposed to be doing. Seeing other equally scared and surprised people behind me, I kept on going. Reaching the top, after just under an hour of steady stair climbing, I was dizzy with fear and adrenaline. Never having been afriad of heights in my life, I was actually scared to climb the last little ladder that reached the top rocks. I waited 15 minutes for Judith to reach me, and after her assurance that it was okay, I went up the ladder.

Tiny stairs that I went down on my butt:

And what a view. MP was a blip on the ground below, we were in the clouds, we were on top of the world. We stayed for almost 2 hours, taking pictures, snacking on fruit, and really just too damn scared to go back down those teeny tiny stairs. The Incas were a small and crazy people. View of MP from WP:

Now we're in Arequipa, having just spent 2 days in Colca Canyon on an incredibly boring touristy tour that Judith had booked back in Austria and that I went along with. We saw some condors (a lot of condors, and very up close actually) and went to some more hot springs, but other than that, not much to write about. She bought me a cocktail (a Colca Sour - made with a sour kiwi-like fruit from a cactus) because she felt bad about dragging me along on this tour. We were the youngest on the tour, save for a brainiac 8 year old on vacation with his parents.

Tonight we're on another overnight bus to Ica and Huacachina, 10 hours north, an oasis in the middle of a desert, wineries, pisco distilleries, and sandboarding (like snowboarding but with sand).

Five Day Trek of Machu Picchu begins at 4:30am mañana

I can say I have walked across a closed Bolivian/Peruvian border amid a strike.

Sunset in Copacabana, Lake Titicaca

And that's all I'm going to say about it... for now. No need to worry the parentals. It all worked out okay, but it'll definitely be my South American Story I'll love to tell.

Upon arriving at the boat bus pick-up at 7am, the original 7:30am boat somehow became a more expensive, but faster, boat that was to leave at 11:30am. Befriended a group of 3 Aussies, one of whom we had met the night before at a bar/cafe, having been suckered there by flyers promoting live Latin-Afro music (a bongo, a guitar and an aging rasta hippy does Afro-Latin music make?). Anyway, Peter and his friends were in the same boat as us (literally and figuratively), having had to spend an extra day in Copa anxiously waiting for news of the border to open, and taking chances on the boat rather than waiting who knows how long for the bus route to open.

After being told our 7:30 boat was now a 11:30 boat, the five of us spent our remaining Bolivianos on breakfast at another cafe where I taught them my version of the card game Asshole and they spent 3 hours trying to dethrone me from my seat at President. Caught the bus to the border at 11:30, where our boat was to meet us after we got the appropriate stamps. Easier said than done. There were about 20 backpackers intended for our boat. We all ended up waiting two plus hours at the border, in limbo, having had our passports stamped to exit Bolivia, but not able to get to the Peruvian immigration office due to the protesters blocking the way. Limbo in South America is an interesting place to be. Nothing to do but sit on a rock and wait. While snacking on inflated corn and joking about what an adventure this was sure to be.

Waiting outside the Bolivian border control

Passing the protestors' discarded rocks on our way to the boat

We made it into Peru! Fingers crossed we get to the boat..

We finally got to our boat at 3:30 (first having to do a bit of hiking through farmland, then calmly dealing with an encounter with a small mob of angry protesting villagers who were not happy to see us on their side of the border- who came armed with sticks and stones - and who we had to pay off to let us pass through to the waiting boat. Okay maybe I said too much). The boat was surprisingly comfortable, the five of us able to sit together and play round after round of Hearts. By the time we landed in Puno, on the Peruvian side of Lake Titicaca, at 7:30, we were desperate for hot showers and strong cocktails.

Followed our hostal's recommendation for dinner and had some amazing pisco sours, quinoa soup and quinoa coated trout. Craving more than just a pisco sour, we found a bar that allowed us to continue our card playing frenzy, and I proceeded to teach the Aussies and Judith the classic American college drinking game known as Kings. About six games later, the morning's scary adventure was laughed off and visions of happiness in Peru abounded. The Aussies left for Arrequipa first thing this morning so Judith and I spent the morning lazing about in the hostel, wandering around town, seeking out its central mercado (of course), buying too much local exotic fruit, inflated corn, corn nuts and other local snacks for our 12 hour bus ride to Cusco tomorrow. The afternoon was spent being cultured; we ventured out to Los Uros, the floating islands, made entirely of reed. We had heard it was super commercial and touristy, but that didn't help us from feeling depressed about the whole thing. These people choose to live on these floating islands, about a 30 minute boat ride outside of town, with no industry to speak of except for a little fishing, and thus depend almost entirely on tourism. The whole tour reeked of exploiting both the Uro people and the tourists visiting them. Cool to see the islands, huts and boats, but definitely low on the list of my favorite tours.

So, Cusco is next.

Sure, we got INTO Peru, but that doesn't mean the rest is a piece of cake. The road from Puno to Cusco, which normally takes seven hours to traverse, is blockaded, again by protesters, so we must take an alternative route that takes 12 hours (hence the Aussies going to Arrequipa first. They'll probably meet us in Cusco mid-week). We're taking a tourist bus, recommended by guidebooks to be safest, and it makes a few stops in different towns and includes a sit-down lunch at a restaurant. If all goes well, we'll be in Cusco tomorrow night, ready to take on Machu Picchu Monday or Tuesday.

Fingers crossed.

And Happy Father's Day, Dad and Schwartz! I think you're the only two dads reading this.

Stuck in Bolivia? Annoying but things could be worse.

No WiFi in Copa so this is from an internet cafe, thus no pictures and bad punctuation. Sorry!

Arrived in Copacabana Monday afternoon after a bit of drama with the bus at 8am. My transfer was supposed to pick me up at the hostel between 7:15-7:30 and take me to the bus station. At 7:35 I asked the front desk guy if it was normal for them to be late. No. He looked at my ticket (purchased through a travel agency and didnt list which bus company I was supposed to take) he made a few phone calls, then told me he´d be right back. 10 minutes later it's 7:45 and he hasnt come back. I grab my backpacks and dart to the main street to hail a cab and tell him muy rapido, por favor. (I was traveling solo as Judith had bought her ticket already through an agency at home and had a separate transfer).

I get to the bus station 5 minutes to 8 and start asking every bus kiosko if my ticket works for them. As I'm trying to find the right office, an elderly Boliviana woman sticks her hand in my face asking me for money. My water bottle is falling out of the side pocket of my backpack, the bag of granola I have for the bus is also on the floor. Meanwhile I'm trying to find out in Spanish where my bus is and everyone is pointing in different directions. The only word I could get out at the begging woman was NO. Felt like a Seinfeld episode.

Finally find the right office, and the lady tells me, calm down! No problem. Bus leaves at 8:30 and your hostel called. Just wait. I wait. And wait. Just as I decide to put my heavy ass backpack down, one of the workers calls me over and tells me to wait outside the bus station, where he will meet me. And not to tell anyone. Hmm. Ok. I walk outside amid the crazy La Paz bus and taxi traffic and spot 2 of the other backpackers from the same bus office. I ask them if they're also waiting for this shady bus guy. Yep, they laugh. Finally the man comes running over to us and tells us to follow him. We walk about 10 minutes away from the bus station, me trying to keep up, cursing my backpack and everything in it. Finally get to the bus, which looks like it's circa 1982 and named "Freedom" (yeah, Dad!). Get the last real seat in the front, and the other 2 guys are forced to sit jumpseat with the driver. Meet Judith at the tourist info office in Copa as planned, tell her how glad I am to see her, and we settle on a decent hostel which happens to have a great breakfast but no heat. And it gets pretty cold at night. Another night of sleeping in all my clothes.

The rest of Monday was spent walking around the little town, which has a really unique cathedral that reminds me of Park Guell in Barcelona with all the colors and tiles. We then hiked up a hill to see the Asiento del Inca, basically some rock formations and a great view of the city. The altitude killed us so we laid in the sun at the top of the hill for a while until we got hungry and ventured down to the beach. Got solicited by a man offering 2x1 happy hour and we sipped mojitos, snacked on olives and cheese, popcorn (didn't know that was what palmitos de maiz was!) and a chicken sandwhich. Then it was time to climb the other big hill in town, the Calvario, to catch the sunset over Lake Titicaca. Was a hell of a hike as the one mojito had quite the effect due to the altitude, sun and lack of sleep I had the night before (couldn't sleep as I had started thinking of REAL LIFE - ugh). Anyway, we made it to the top just in time, snapped some pictures of the cemetary at the top and the bright full moon and then headed to dinner at La Cupula, highly rated in the guidebooks. My trout in caper sauce and quinoa salad was amazing and the price was even better (about $7). The bottle of Bolivian Sav Blanc was not so good but we drank it anyway. Definitely one of the better meals I've had.

Tuesday morning we woke up early for our day hike of La Isla del Sol, an hour and a half boat ride away. Saw some Incan Ruins, including a labyrinth (man they were short!), and hiked the whole of the island, from the North to the South end. Took about 4 hours. Saw and heard lots of animals, from donkeys to sheep to cows and pigs. Really pretty views and a difficult but enjoyable hike. Made it back to Copa in time for happy hour again, where we got more mojitos for our hard work. Then shopped around a bit at the artisinal markets and picked up more insanely cheap local goods. Then it was dinner time and we found this cute looking restaurant we had seen the day before, walked in completely blind as we didn't know anything about it except it had a cute patio. We were the only ones there, and the workers were sitting watching TV. The owner man came running over to us, told us to sit, and we grabbed the table closest to the stone oven and asked him to light the fire. After a few minutes of lighting newspaper and blowing through a long PVC pipe, the fire was started, the TV turned off and music switched on. No running water in the bathroom made me a bit nervous but Judith told me it would be okay. Look how nice the restaurant is! she exclaimed. We ordered the local dishes, Pique Macho and a Criolla Salad. The next few minutes we saw the owner's 10 year old daughter run in an out of the restaurant, buying napkins and who knows what other missing ongredients for us. A dog also made its way in and out of the restaurant and kitchen. I'll repeat ,yself, Bolivia is not for the faint fo heart.

The bread was fresh and the salsa spicy, so that qualmed my fears about the upcming meal a bit as well. The salad was amazing, with quinoa, funky beans I don't know the name of, olives, peanuts, sweet potato, regular potato, tomatoes, red pepper, papaya and corn. The Pique Macho had too-tough meat that I had one bite of, sausage I didn't enjoy, but of course the vegetables were great. More potatoes, onions, tomatoes, olives. A bit too salty so we couldn't finish the dish. But both were reminiscent of peasant fare. Hearty, local and filling. We were in bed by 10:30, all our layers on again, expecting to take the bus today to Puno, on the Peruvian side of the Lake.

As we're checking out, 3 German backpackers are at the reception, telling us their horror story of crossing the border at night. They tell us to wait a few days, it's not good right now. Their bus dropped them off in the middle of nowhere, they walked 2 hours with their backpacks until the found a cab, and made it across the border. The Peruvian side is protesting because of a planned mine that would contaminate their water source. We've know about trouble at the border for a while now, but it opens every day or so, and most people get across just fine. So Judith and I went to the Tourist Information office and he tells us no buses are running at all today. We may be able to catch the boat tomorrow morning, but that's 10 hours and no bathroom (as opposed to 3 hours by bus). Now we're looking at returning to La Paz and either flying to Peru or going back through Chile. Neither sounds great, so we're going to stick in Copa for a day to see if the protest is resolved by tomorrow. Topday is supposedly their Day of Solution. The Tourist Info guy said it could take a month for the border to reopen and the boat may be our best option. That or flying from La Paz. But tickets are looking like more than $300. Oh the woes of traveling South America. Every day is another adventure.

Mom/Dad - I'll keep you posted!