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).