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!

El Choro Hike: Downhill, in clouds, through different climates. And my good friend, el baño natural..

We slept for 10 hours last night, something I have not done since I've been traveling.

After nearly three full days of hiking (the majority of which was downhill - a literal pain in the ass), camping in 2,000-3,000 meters a.s.l. at near freezing temperatures (sans alcohol), we needed it. Definitely the most rustic camping I've done. No toilets, a hose with running water was where I'd splash water on my face or rinse off my toothbrush.

So how was the hike itself? Well. You might say our group was spoiled. Having had to leave Chris behind at the hostel due to an inconvenient case of traveler's stomach/altitude sickness/ food poisoning, or a combination of the three, we were a pack of five hikers instead of six, plus a guide and two porters. The porters carried our food, sleeping bags, tents. We had day packs with our clothes, snacks, water, etc.

Making up the group was myself, Judy (who finally decided to tell me last night, over a week into traveling together, after a very strong margarita made of Bolivian tequila, is actually named Judith, hates the name Judy, and thought I had taken it upon myself to give her a nickname. Oops. Plenty of apologies and laughter ensued); a maybe-couple (we never got the full story) consisting of a Peruvian woman from Lima named Pilar and a French dude from SW France, Johan; and a solo traveling Frenchie who currently lives in Australia, Guillaume. Guillame, Judith and I eventually formed a clique, as the couple/ not-couple were in their own little world. Guille had spent a year traveling Asia and has hiked Nepal. Judith of course has the Alps in her backyard and has done Patagonia, as have I. The three of us also just finished the salt flat safari. So you could say we were used to some pretty fantastic landscapes. This, in comparison, was just... okay.

Perhaps unfair, but true. Sure, we started at 4,900 meters a.s.l. where we were dressed in our full winter gear, the landscape was arid, and within hours we were in moderate climate, pulling layers off, until finally we were in the jungle, below 2,000 meters, in tanks and shorts, swimming in the river, walking through waterfalls. That part was cool.

Seeing llamas at the top, almost purring like kittens, also cool.

Being above the clouds for the majority of the hike, taking pictures of them floating in the valleys. Cool. Seeing the rustic Bolivian countryside, clamoring across old rickety bridges reminiscent of Indiana Jones,

traveling back in time where houses are made of stone and thatch roofs, have no running water, with chickens running amok, feeding children along the path chocolates, getting them to smile when they at first were all frowns, very cool.

Meeting a doubled-over 78 year old Japanese hermit who has lived at least two hours from anyone else for over 50 years, who has hand-drawn maps of the world to mark where his visitors are from, who rushes to bring out a book about Austria written in Japanese to show Judith, super cool. (Look to the right in the picture below, there he is with his book):

Okay, so it was a good hike. Like I said, we may just have been spoiled. The food was surprisingly decent, with homemade veggie soups at dinner, spaghetti or rice, fresh vegetables, chicken, fruit, yogurt and muesli at breakfast. Not sure how the porters carried it all, but, hell they're strong.

The nights were spent playing Who Am I, drinking mug of tea after mug of tea, until eventually it was 9:00 and we felt it was late enough to call it a night. By the end of the three days, we had exhausted our life stories, and were at the point where we comfortably discussing bowel movements. Living in the wild will do that to you.

Returned to civilization yesterday afternoon in Coroico, a quaint, not-yet-overloaded-with-backpackers mountainside town three hours outside of La Paz, where the three of us scored a private triple at a picture perfect hostel with a view of the valley to write home about. And a pool that was a scary color of yellow, and thus avoided.

Found a Mexican restaurant that had 3 variations of 3 dishes on the menu: meat, chicken or vegetarian: tacos, enchiladas or burritos. We decided to share everything and went for a meat burrito, chicken enchilada and veggie taco. They all came out looking exactly the same, two rolled tortillas covered in black beans, with whatever the appropriate filling was. Pretty funny. Not so funny this morning when we all woke up running to the bathroom. Like I said, we'd gotten pretty close at this point.

Disappointed to find out there were no massage joints in town, the hot springs we dreamed about were really just little waterfalls (low in water as this is the dry season), the hostel shower went from scalding hot to freezing cold in nanoseconds, and the best restaurant in town was German with the rudest waiter I've ever encountered, we decided to come back to La Paz earlier in the day today than planned. Took the local bus the 3 & 1/2 hours, Judith jammed on the seat above the back tire, Guille squished next to a larger than his seat local man, and me in a fold out seat in the aisle between them, feeling every bump of the dirt road, I somehow was able to enjoy a This American Life podcast and the fresh mountain air coming in through the cracked windows.

My view for 3 1/2 hours. Very typical Boliviano.

This is what three days hiking with no shower will do, in case you're wondering:

Now we're back in La Paz, just Judith (not Judy), and me. Chris has gone on to Copacabana (on Lake Titicaca, not Rio!) and then Peru, as she only has two weeks left before she returns to Germany. Tomorrow we'll check out the colonial bit of town, get some much needed beauty maintenance (haircuts, pedicures, massages - taking advantage of the Boliviano as much as we can), and finish touristy shopping at the markets. Tuesday morning we're off to Copacabana ourselves.

Cheap eats, crazy colorful textiles, great markets, fresh fruit on every corner, hiking for days. Bolivia is right up my alley.

A week and a half into Bolivia, and still loving it. It is interestingly enough the poorest country in SA yet the richest in the world with natural resources. Over 60% of the population is indigenous, and the traditions are strong. At least with the older generation, it seems. The younger population seems to be a bit more modernized and liberal. Check out this dude, shepherding potatoes via donkey over the Inca Trail, which took us 2 hours to climb:

So we were able to meet up with Jurgen and Mike for dinner Saturday night before our hike on Sunday, where we hit the Inca Trail and 2,000 year old cave paintings:

To prove the liberalness of the youth, we stumbled upon a gay-pride demonstration on Monday in the plaza in Sucre, complete with rainbow flags and a live theater performance. We then met up with J and M again for lunch in the Mercado Central, where they showed us the upstairs dining area, full of stalls with women hawking soups, stews, pastas, meats, all for about $1-$2. I had an interesting goulash type stew Jurgen had recommended (with actual spice!). Then they showed us the juice bars, all lined up in a row, with a rainbow of fresh fruits bursting over the counters, aching to be made into smoothies.

Each section of the Mercado had its own designation (fruits over here, spices over there, big raw cow carcasses yonder, etc.). After my dad's suggestion of trying to hunt down cherimoya, his favorite fruit of all time, but only found in SA, I thought I had lucked out when I found cherimoya wafer cookies before the desert safari ride. THEN I found the actual fruit in the mercado, and we bought a few for our hike. THEN I found an ice cream stand with it as the flavor of the day. THEN I had a fruit juice with it mixed with pineapple juice. Yes, it is delicious. A bit creamy, a bit melony.

After the mercado, we beelined it to the sombrero factory, Chris and I having decided on the bus ride from Uyuni to Sucre that we were envious of the local girls' amazing traditional hats and the ease with which they wore them. Dora, our guide from the hike, had told us about the factory, and that the hats should only cost us about 60 Bolivianos (a little over $8). Spent over an hour trying on all the different styles, and I finally settled on a gray wool Indiana Jones type bucket hat, while Chris got more of a traditional bowler/derby that sits just so on your head. I've already rocked mine a few times. Tourist, who?

From the factory we hit the REAL market, where the locals shop, not the touristy artisinal markets in the center of town. (Also by recommendation of Jurgen, Mike and Dora). We went a bit crazy with the fabrics (blankets or table cloths? napkins or nightstand covers? does it matter?), each of us buying more than we could carry in our backpacks, excited about the plethora of interior decorating possibilities that awaited us (and maybe a gift or two).

So off to the post office it was; my mom should be receiving a nice colorful package in 20 days... or so they say. Then it was straight to the 7:30pm overnight bus to La Paz, which passed uneventfully, save for the freezing conditions and out of service on-board bathroom. Haven taken a sleeping pill (thanks, mom!), I did not wake for either of the 2 bathroom breaks, and awoke at 6:30 am none the wiser of the broken bathroom. By the time we arrived in La Paz at 7:30am, I was in quite some pain and ran straight to the public baño. Made it just in time. I repeat, Bolivia is not for the faint of heart.

La Paz is a crazy bustling capital city, in a valley of sorts, at 3,600 meters altitude, with small windy, hilly roads full of crazy mini-buses that seem blind to pedestrians and no stop signs in site. No shortage of street food, from nuts and dried fruits:

to fresh squeezed OJ to popcorn to empanadas and salteñas (an empanada-like pastry with a delicious brothy inside):.

Still a lot of traditional garb for the women (none for the men strangely enough). We've gotten some culture in by visiting the San Francisco museum and cathedral, originally built in the 16th century, with a great view of the city from the roof:

as well as the Valle de la Luna (WIKI: It is composed of an area where erosion has worn away the majority of a mountain. Due to being composed of clay rather than rock, over the centuries the elements have created a somewhat odd work of art here, like a desert filled with stalagmites.) The poorly translated brochure told us we must take a moment of reflection in the silence canyon. Here I am, following orders:

Thanks to an old XM coworker's recommendation (he is a La Paz native), we checked out the San Miguel neighborhood, what you could call the SoHo of La Paz, and had a real Westernized lunch in a cafe that MUST be owned by a foreigner. Fresh salads, juices (but of course), followed by real espresso, and a very nice bathroom. Also found our first La Paz supermarket (mostly everything is bought in markets or tiny specialty shops) where we stocked up on snacks for the upcoming hike (anyone know what a lacuna is? I bought some more wafer cookies of the flavor). And then it was time for more artisanal shopping for alpaca woolen goods and even more bright textiles. If not for my mostly black wardrobe, I'd look like a walking Christmas tree with all the neon accessories I've bought. Last night we met up with Yvonne, Ian, Pete and Lucy, who were still in the city. Had dinner at a Cuban restaurant, which again, let me give kudos to Boivia for their culinary variety!

Tomorrow we're up early for a 9am rendezvous to meet our tour guide for a 3 day hike of Choro. The hike should be strenuous enough, with the altitude, two nights camping in prettttty cold temperatures, and a fair amount of climbing. But it should be rewarding as we'll end up Coroico, where we plan to spend at least a night. We've heard stories of people never wanting to leave Coroico. (Again, citing WIKI: Here in this tropical town, you'll find fruit orchards, twittering birds, coca fields, endless greenery, oxygen-rich air, warm weather, and friendly locals. There are also some nice hikes in the area where you could spend a few days in Coroico exploring the area, such as hikes to waterfalls or to rivers.)

So once again, I bid you adieu for at least four days. I'm all stocked up on nuts for the hike, alpaca woolen items for the cold, and toilet paper for the emergencies.

I've also updated Flickr with all pictures. Check 'em out.

A few salt flat pics, and stargazing in the Atacama Desert

(Pictures: one of my many backbends, the hot springs in Atacama desert, me in front of a "stuck" train - it started smoking just as a laid in front of it - the Laguna Colorado and the Milky Way).

Totally forgot to write about our stargazing experience in San Pedro! The Atacama Desert is rated as one of the 10 best places in the world to see the stars due to the extremely dry climate, low light interference and a number of other science-y reasons you're free to look up on Wikipedia if you so desire.

The night before we went on the salt flat safari, we booked a tour through the local astronomy expert, Alain, a displaced Frenchman, married to a Chilean, who could be a stand-up comedian as his second career. We initially thought $30 was a bit steep for a few hours of looking at some stars, but by the end of the night we were more than satisfied.

Picked up from San Pedro at 7pm, about 50 tourists loaded the private coach, the majority of whom were 20-something backpackers (was that the right use of whom?). We arrive at the stargazing site and enter a round room made of stone, dimly lit with candles, with 2 semi-circles of stools to sit on, complete with blankets if you're cold, and a wide hole in the stone roof to look at, what else, the stars. introduces himself and gives us a very basic overview of astronomy and then begins to explain what we'll see. Of course the stars in the southern hemisphere are different than those we're used to up north. We've got the Southern Cross down here, Sirius (ugh!), and a number of others. We were also fortunate enough to be there while Saturn was out in full view. After about 20 minutes, we were let outside and shown around to his 8 telescopes, each carefully set to see a different section of the sky. There was Saturn, bright and as beautiful as you'd think, if even a bit fake looking. We saw a jewel box (3 neighboring stars with different colors - yellow, orange, blue), clusters of stars, a double star (Acrux/ Alpha), and the MILKY WAY (see picture). Saturn and the Milky Way were my favorite. You CAN see the Milky Way from the N. Hemisphere, but the conditions have to be very favorable with no pollution. After we each got a turn walking around and checking out the different (very expensive looking) telescopes, Alain pointed out all the Zodiac constellations using an incredibly strong laser pointer that seemed to reach the stars themselves (we all OOHed the first time he broke it out). I got to see Leo (my sign!) for the first time in my life, as well as Scorpio, Virgo, Capricorn and a few others. Cool! He also showed the few of us with SLR cameras (or almost SLR cameras) how to shoot pictures of the stars. Widest aperture possible, slowest speed possible, stable base... see below.

We were then herded back into the round stone chamber where we were served the most delicious (non-powdered) hot chocolate I've had since I can remember. It was the bathroom which made us realize Alain and his family actually live in this building, out in the desert, 20 minutes from San Pedro and hundred of miles from a real city. The bathroom was probably the most luxurious I had seen in Chile -a honeymoon sized tub, separate shower, washing machine. Then it was time for Q&A, where we pounded him with questions about his personal background and how he ended up here, in the middle of nowhere Chile. It sounded like he made his money working for the big research/education system, always working for grants, and got sick of it. He wanted to research what HE wanted to research, without always having to report to the funder, so he broke free. The way he wanted us to understand his world, the way he emphasized certain key aspects of the science, his sense of humor in relating stories of the history of astronomy (NOT astrology!), his passion for the stars really shone through (no pun intended) and I think we all left feeling a bit in awe of a man who has followed his heart and ended up in one of the most naturally beautiful places in the world, doing quite well for himself. ($30 per person x 50 people per tour x 2 tours a night x 7 nights a week + living in the middle of nowhere Chile = you do the math).

So that was the star tour. Haven't felt such respect for the universe since my days in Astro 101 back at PSU. We really are nothing, guys. Small, silly things thinking we're such big deals and everything is so important. Go live your lives! In the end it really means nothing anyway. Wow, sorry Dad, looks like I'm becoming the lefty hippy daughter you've feared. Heh.

Speaking of such, I'm off to the market in Sucre, in search of the Gaucho hat all the women down here rock with such attitude.

Yesterday was a full day hike to see 2,000 year old Incan cave paintings followed by a 2-hour completely uphill hike in the blazing sun on the Inca Trail (there is more than one down here, not just in Peru!). Great views of pre-historic valleys, with meteorite period red rocks and crustracean period green rocks. But hell, my calves are killing me.

Tonight the Austrian (Judy, 25?, ex-marketing chick for Kraft in Zurich), and German (Chris, 30, ex-museum administrator in Berlin) and I are on an overnight bus to La Paz. Really liking traveling with them. There's no drama, no bullshit, just good eating, good sightseeing and shopping, and a lot of German. They also have both succumbed to travelers' stomach, yet somehow mine has held strong, even after drinking the freshly squeezed juices which are made with local water. I'll get to the food in another posting... but I'll leave you with this. The first rule in Bolivia is always carry toilet paper with you. Yep.