Who's got jungle feevah?

I wake up feeling quite excellent on Monday, October 13. So we decided that it was time to leave Cusco. Finally! We’re both so excited and we begin researching at once. We can’t go too far because we’re still waiting for Nate’s jacket to be mailed from Ecuador. So we decide to execute a last-minute trip to… Puerto Maldonado.

Where? Ok. Here’s the deal. Peru can be divided into three sections: the coast, the mountains, and the jungle. We’ve experienced the coast, the mountains… but not the jungle. Fantastic. Let’s go.

The Lonely Planet’s information is out of date, slightly. It says it takes 3 days to get to Puerto Maldonado, riding on the top of a gasoline truck over the bumpy roads. Ummm… Sounds like fun to me, but Nate is weary. But we find out that since the LP’s copyright date, the roads have been improved and buses have taken over this tedious journey. So we buy two tickets for Tuesday. It’s settled, we’re going!

Tuesday morning wake up. Eat. Oh no. Maybe I’m not entirely better. My head does the swimmy, nauseous feeling. Oh no. Maybe we can’t go. But we have to; we’ve already paid for the ticket. As 3pm drew closer, I felt worse and worse. I was fighting back urges to throw up. So we called a doctor, who was phenomenal and came within 10 minutes. She was super helpful and gave me a consultation and some anti-nausea pills at no cost.

So we sped off for the Terminal Terrestre with 15 minutes to the bus’s departure. We arrived and, after paying the exit fee, found the right bus. Apparently the company that we had booked had been in an accident the day before and weren’t deploying any buses. We had to change our ticket for another company. We hopped aboard and it was not what I had expected. It smelled weird and was rather dirty. Nate said he heard someone say something about us “gringos.” The circumstances were not ideal, but what other choice did we have?

We left the bus terminal late. We got stopped by police who asked for our Ids and checked for seat belts. My seat belt was non functioning, so I tied it together and hoped for the best.

A man tried (for about an hour) to sell us ginseng tablets and other cure-all Chinese potions. Nate and I were having none of it (lucky Nate could tune him out), but the other passengers were eating it up.

We stopped for a bathroom break, which was on top of a hill. We filed out of the bus and out into the open country side. The men walked a few feet and proceeded to relieve themselves. The women had to go off a little ways. It took a little bit to get me comfortable with the idea of peeing in public. The bus almost left me behind.

The TV had to be held into place with tape. A goat bleated from somewhere in the bus. The mother across the aisle from me laid her daughter down on the dirty aisle to sleep. Passengers had to walk over her to get on and off the bus, whacking me in the head each time they did. The woman behind us kept coughing up some terrible sounds (some of them in my hair). It was disgusting.

They served us a Styrofoam box of dinner each accompanied by some rice pudding. Some passengers took one look at it and tossed it straight out the window. During the bus ride, the rice pudding somewhere was spilled and was tracked throughout the bus.

I slept. I guess I was tired.

Throughout the night, I snuck peaks out of the darkened bus windows. The trees closest to the road sported bigger, tropical leaves. The air changed from cool and dry to warm and humid. And the road itself was rough and so narrow that only one car could pass at a time.

It was around 5 or 6am when the bus woke up. I felt disgusting. The bus was humid and dirty; I could almost feel the germies in the air. Everyone seemed to be coughing up something terrible. It was hot. But to add to that, it started raining. Normally, buses keep out the rains, but this one let it loose… onto my head. I put on my raincoat in the bus and got drip drip drip dripdripdripdriped on for a little while.

We started getting close around 9am. We could tell because the crowd in the bus held a collective invisible expectation. The bus made frequent stops to let passengers off and food vendors on. Nate and I split a yucca rellena for 1 sol, which ended up being pretty awesome.

It was 11am when we finally pulled into Puerto Maldonado, concluding our 20-hour disgusting bus ride. Our backs and faces were covered in sweat. Welcome to jungle territory.

But it wasn’t what either of us had expected. No all-encompassing green foliage. No exotic birds everywhere. Just a dusty city with few paved roads and lots of 2- or 3- wheeled transporation. We hopped a motorickshaw to the plaza de armas, thinking that would be a great place to start. The government-run tourist information office, however, would be another motorickshaw ride away along a dirt road. We get some information and then back to the plaza de armas to find another tourist information office.

It was pretty frustrating. We were spending a whole lotta time and money running around this ugly boiling hot city AFTER spending 20 hours on a filthy bus. We got to the second tourist information office and looked at guided tours that were more than we really wanted to pay. I’m not a fan of tours. You pay a bunch of money get shuttled around from place to place and talked at. I like to do it myself, at my own pace. But this time we had no other option, because you weren’t allowed to enter the National Reserve without a guide.

So we chose between the tour options and found one that would be a whole day of jungle stuff. A woman, Luz Marina, came up from seemingly nowhere and jumped in along with us, lowering the per person cost. Sweet.

When it was all done and paid for, we set out to find the cheapest hostel in town. We ended up at Hostel Moderno, which despite its name, offers nothing modern. The rooms looked like large chicken coups with mesh walls near the ceiling for ventilation. The bathrooms were shared and mildly unpleasant, but it was cheap. The first thing we did was shower. No hot water, but none needed. The brutal sun took care of everything else. I don’t remember the last time I’ve been somewhere that hot.

We sweated all through lunch, which was filling and good. I got extremely tired after eating so we passed out after an ice-cream cone in our ridiculously hot hostel room.

Dinner was at a Chinese restaurant over an Argentina-Chile soccer match. Food did not make me feel good, but I ate what I could because, with my illness, I’ve lost a considerable amount of weight.

The hostel was sweltering and ridiculously noisy. We lay awake to people hacking up terrible sounds all night long. Nate says a radio started blasting at 4am, I know that I am eternally grateful to my earplugs.

We awoke the morning of Thursday October 16, sweating and tired. After a rushed breakfast of grilled chicken, rice, and salad we waited for our guide at 8am. The sun was already frantically attacking our bare skin; it’s gonna be a long day, I thought.



The guide came and we took some motorichshaw taxis to the muelle. Our boat driver and jungle guide extraordinaire was Don Jose. We road the “peke” boat, so named for the sounds its engine makes: pekepekepekepekepeke…




We peked down the river to flight of stairs that marked the beginning of the Reserva National.





Then stepped into the jungle. The air was humid and all around us was the thick vegetation and life that only a jungle breathes. My senses were overwhelmed. There was so much to investigate, so many sounds, sights, smells… It was so unfamiliar and wild; I felt like a naïve intruder. After a short spiel from the park guard, we were let loose into the selva.


Thick vines reached up around us. Millions of plants and hidden animals stared at us as we passed. There was too much for my eyes to take in. The sounds of countless bugs and birds were put on hold as I listened to explanations of different trees and fruits and their medicinal properties. Don Jose was awesome. You could tell that he lived for his jungle. He understood that life comes from nature and we have to reciprocate.

We pass a colony of highly organized agricultural… ants. I’d heard about them in biology class. It was awesome to see them in action. Don Jose picked up a soldier ant, which was huge! Each of the classes of ants had a job. The job facilitated the gathering of leaves. The ants don’t eat the leaves they collect, but rather use them to cultivate a species of fungus inside the ant colony. The fungus is the nourishment of the ants. During the rainy season, they block up all the entrances to the colony and sit inside with their food storage. They are more organized than any civilization of humans I’ve seen.



We saw hundreds of spiders with a collective goal. Butterflies dominated the pools of water. We walked by the home of an anaconda. I could have spent hours walking down the path, trying to take everything in, but we had a plan for the day and so we kept walking.




There’s so much that goes on in a jungle; millions of species working together. The curious little flower has curious little bugs on it. And the two species mutually benefit each other. The monkeys eat the aguaje fruits, depositing the seeds. Species working, surviving, aiding, living together. The harmony is quite remarkable.




We arrived at the Lago Sandoval after 5km of jungle walking. There were monkeys tree-jumping over our heads (one threw an unripe mango at Don Jose). We put on our swimming gear and carried big sticks to scare away the sting rays. The water was a ridiculously warm temperature and felt so good after the humidity. We met some friendly Spaniards and some jovial Peruvians. We all took turns on the rope swing!

Time to eat. The refreshing dip in the water was quickly wiped away by sweat as we started eating. Our group was hilarious and we all got along well. Nate was keeping up quite nicely with the Spanish. I was impressed.



After lunch we hopped into a canoe. We brushed our arms with suntan lotion and put towels and shorts on our heads. The sun was fierce and dehydrating.




We spent some time on the water and saw a lot of birds, tortugas, and even a few caiman! We heard some pretty large animals! I secretly wanted to see a tapir or puma or something, but they were all too well hidden.




After a bit of navigating the perimeter of the lake, we headed back to the path. It was only about 3 or 4pm, but the sky was getting darker. All of the thick leaves kept the pesky sun at bay, but I wasn’t about to wait around until dark. The noises of the jungle are enough to keep me on my toes. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if it was dark.




I was pretty worn out by the time we got back to the boat. We made faces and played games while the two women slept and Don Jose navigated the boat. The sun was setting as we pulled into the dock.









One last picture before we go! What a great group. I guess not all tours are bad.




After a great day, we splurge on a calzone and burrito dinner, which left me feeling not so good. Good night jungle!

After another sleep-strenuous night of people hacking up lungs, babies crying, and terrible music being blasted, we woke up to a day of errands.

Friday October 17. What kind of errands?

Well, we have a bunch, so we rent a motor scooter to save us money on moto-rickshaw taxis. Do we know how to ride one? Well, Nate’s a quick learner , so off we go!

First stop… we get directions for the bus companies. There’s no central bus station in this town, there’s just a street with all the bus companies lined up. We shop around and find one that suits us. We take a look at the bus, looks okay from the outside. We buy our tickets for 2:30pm. Great. What’s next?

Second stop… Mercado. We’re looking for a machete. Not only do they make awesome souvenirs, but you never know when they’ll come in handy against vicious dogs on Laguna Quilotoa trails. Plus, we need to chop up our pineapples some way… So we go machete hunting. But no one seems to sell them with a sheath... and we’re not about to go walking around with a naked machete. Hmm…

Our brain wheels start turning as we have a market breakfast/lunch. After much searching, we find the shoe-repair stalls. We explain our situation to the first shoe repair man who gives us a quizzical look. He agrees to make one for us! So we go to our friend the machete dealer, buy a machete and then have a sheath custom made for us.


While we’re waiting we grab an aguajina juice, made from the juice of aguaje. Apparently the fruit itself contains a fair number of hormones, so men should drink it in moderation. Not a problem for either of us, because we find that the yellow-orange drink is not so appetizing. But it’s always awesome to try something new, especially something so typical of the region.

We return the motor scooter, convinced that we’ll have to do it again some time… We check out of the hostel and sit around with the guy at the desk talking for a bit. Then back to the market to check on our machete.




Whadda think? It’s rugged and perfect! We thank the shoe repairer (who I think was more than happy to take on our out-of-the-ordinary request to spare him from the monotony of shoes) with a picture.




Then we sit down to a pair of refrescos of maracuyá and cocona. The woman who serves us the drinks sits pealing an aguaje. She sees our puzzled looks and offers us some. The pealing was the fun part, the aguaje itself was sour and quite the acquired taste. We thank her though and head off to wait for our bus.

Waiting for our bus brings us into contact with a strange looking jungle animal that a family has decided to adopt as a pet.



The bus takes off a little late, but it’s much cleaner than the last one. We make good time bouncing over the dirt road. Of course there’s time to pick up a pineapple on the way out of town.

Breaking News!

Last minute change of plans. We're going to the jungle. Tomorrow.

See you all in a few days!

I'm turning into a pharmacy.

October 9, 2008

I woke up better. Not perfect, but better. We packed up and got down to the Aguas Calienes train station for our 9:30am departure. I tried to sleep on the train. Nate said I slept with one eye open. Creepy.

Ollantaytambo was the same as when we left it. We stopped by the awesome restaurant for some food. I could hardly finish my veggie soup. When my trips to the bathroom became more frequent, I knew that something was wrong.

We caught a colectivo to Cusco, which dropped us off at the doorstep of good ol’ Loki. We check in and, shortly after, we call the doctor. The fever is gone, but everything else is worse. The doctor comes, gives me some new pills (I’m turning into quite the pharmacy) and says that I have some kind of parasite. Giardia, he said. G-love and Special Sauce, Wes said.

Ugh. Gross. For a description of what that is, I suggest wikipedia. And if you don’t want too much information, I suggest that you stop reading now.

I couldn’t eat my soupy dinner. As I tried to sleep it off, my stomach pains got worse and my belly swelled up to gigantic proportions. It could very well have been an alien baby growing inside me. I was in so much pain that I asked a girl in the dormitory to get Nate. We called the doctor again. I was moaning and groaning in bed. The pain was almost unbearable.

The doctor came. I was panicked. He listened to my stomach growth and, after searching for a vein, injected some medicine into my arm. Shortly after, I got up to go to the bathroom where I let out some of the most tremendous sounds that I’ve heard since the last Jim Carrey movie. But before I was finished, I started getting dizzy. Really dizzy. I panicked. I knew I had been losing nutrients. There was nothing of substance in my digestive tract. How was I going to fend off this illness? My head was swimming. Would this be the end? Would I not have enough energy to beat this? Would Peru be my last stop? I honestly thought I wasn’t going to make it.

I could hardly make it back to the room. But when I did, I was so frantic that I must have really scared both Nate and the poor doctor. The room was spinning and I was losing control of my health. The doctor helped me into bed, took my pulse and my blood pressure (twice). He explained that the dizziness was due to the medicine that he just injected and that it would pass. My pulse slowed as I realized that, for the time being, I would be ok. I wasn’t going to die. I would recover. Whew.

That night I drifted in and out of troublesome sleep, faithfully taking my meds.

October 10, 2008

The next morning, I was great. I felt wonderful and even had my appetite back! Nate, however, had developed one of my unpleasant symptoms. We went to see the doctor, who gave Nate some pills and was relieved to see me smiling.

As the day progressed, I didn’t feel quite as awesome. But I kept taking my meds and eating my soups.

October 11, 2008

I am teetering on the edge between well and sick. I’m sticking to my medicinal schedule, which doesn’t let me sleep for more than 6 hours at a time. Both Nate and I are dehydrated, but overall his stomach seems to be handling things better than mine. I don’t really like staying in Cusco this long, but I really want to feel better before we move to Puno.

Machu Picchu Maniacal Pursuit

October 7, 2008

On our first day in Aguas Calientes I was ready to for the city to redeem itself. The continental breakfast that we were promised was non-existent. And there was no one to be found in our hostel. The rain was still coming down. We set off walking in search of a new hostel, which was not hard to find. There was one on every corner and, since it is the beginning of the slow tourist season, they were all eager to impress. We inquired about services and prices at perhaps 10 of them before we decided on the place across the street from our previous hostel. We’d be paying less than half the price and the room was nicer.

Next, we kept ourselves busy running errands. Market for food stuffs, tourist office for Machu Picchu tickets, artisan market for killing time, lunch for grumbly tummies, and by the afternoon we had completely exhausted the city.

Bedtime was early… to prepare us for…

October 8, 2008


3am wakeup time. It was still raining and dark outside. We ate a quick breakfast and shivered into our clothes. Layers, lots of layers, including the all-important rain layer (ponchos and plastic bags over our feet). I wasn’t feeling spectacular and attributed it to the altitude. Too bad we couldn’t awake the sleeping staff for hot water for coca tea. It was about 4am when we set out from the hostel.



The streets were cold, dark, wet, and empty. We looked awful silly in our getups, but we knew better than to be self-conscious about our attire. Besides, who’s gonna judge us? The sleeping guy on the plaza bench? The store owner who tries to sell us water? The closed store fronts and the barren railroad tracks?

As we left the city lights, we adorned our headlamps. The pale beams of light kept us from sidestepping into the rushing river to our left. The plastic bags on our feet and the hoods on our heads kept us from immediate chill, but it was only a matter of time.

We passed the abandoned buses that, in about an hour, would be shuttling tourists up and down the path to Machu Picchu. Our goal: to beat the buses and their tourists to be the first people to the top.

Down the dirt road, past unseen landscapes, we arrive at a bridge. Following Nate’s advice, we cross the bridge and arrive at the bottom of the path up. There’s the buses’ road and the pedestrian’s stone stairway. Arrowed signs mark the start of the ascent.

Our shoe bags started ripping. Our breaths began to quicken. We stayed hydrated with bottled beverages. The pre-sun morning was still pitch black save our feeble headlamps. The rain was still falling.

Up up up up upupupup! The stairs kept going. We heard dogs in the distance and our memories flashbacked to Laguna Quilotoa! We quickened our steps.

At some point I looked up, and realized that the sky has lightened. The edges of the hills surrounding us were emerging. We switched off our headlamps; it couldn’t be too much farther.

Our shoes were wet and my pants were soaked by the time we surface at the top of the stairs. Bienvenidos a Machu Picchu! We made it! We took some time to congratulate ourselves.

But to our (mostly Nate’s) dismay, we found out that we were not the first people there. A group of three Australians had beat us up. They said that they had left the hotel at 3:30am! And without headlamps! They had followed the railroad tracks and had stumbled through the darkness all the way to the top. We commended them on a job well done! We surrendered the crown of hardcore to them.

More people started arriving after that. I wrung out my socks and munched on some bread before the gates opened at 6am. When we entered the ruins of Machu Picchu, there was a blanket of white clouds over everything. We ran through the crumbling rock walls, up and down stairs, past lounging alpaca to the entrance of Wayna Picchu. We had heard that only the first 400 people into Machu Picchu got tickets to climb up. So we had to get there, and fast!

We ended up being first in line for Wayna Picchu. They opened the gates at 6:45am and Nate and I started up the trail. The trail curled up and around the hill. The sky was bright white. We had no concept of how far we were going and what was around us.

Up and up we climbed. The trail was muddy and rocky and arduous at times. We crawled into caves and up ruins on the other side. Finally we got to the top.

Whew.

But all we could see was white. We knew we were high up, but we didn’t have surroundings to verify that. We knew we were supposed to see a spectacular view of Machu Picchu. But all we could see was white.

It was still only 8am and we assumed that the sun would start to burn off the clouds. So we decided to wait it out; we had time. The early morning hike caught up with me. I put my head down in Nate’s lap to rest.

Very shortly after, Nate said that the clouds were clearing. Sure enough, little snippets of ground became visible. Over the next few hours, we saw more and more. It was breathtaking. And the blanket of cloudy mist added a certain mystical element to the whole scene.


We stayed for a few hours marveling as the spectacular view swung in and out of view.

We headed back down and made a stop at Huchuypicchu, a smaller version of Wayna Picchu. It had a surprisingly good view so we lingered for a few pictures and some munchy snacks.

We then headed down into Machu Picchu to wander through the ruins. Nate seemed more interested in the big slabs of rock than the actual ruins, but who can blame him? It’s been a while since he’s climbed anything. I was not feeling spectacular. I was tired, weak, tired, cold, and tired! At least the rain had let up a bit.

Nate wanted to climb Mountain Machu Picchu. Why hike only two out of the three surrounding mountains? My body was telling me not to, but Nate and my stubbornness were telling me to try it. What harm could come from it?

We started up. I took it slow. Very slow. Step by step. Could altitude be the culprit? Could it be the fact that we’ve only munched on bars all day and not actual food? Could it be the weather? The early departure time? All of the above?!

At a certain point near the top, I sat on a rock. Nate promised to run to the top and back down again. Ok. I had a pretty great view. I’d wait.

Nate danced up the stairs and I put my head down. I flirted with sleep until I felt the first view drops of rain. I tried to take cover under some trees, but the incessant drip drip drip covered my rain coat.

I continued to wait, sitting in the rain. Come on, Nate. Half an hour went by. I questioned the people coming down and they verified that he had indeed run up the mountain. I started shivering and debating descending without him. A trail maintenance worker waited with me making conversation. A bit later, Nate appeared out of breath and sopping wet. I said goodbye to the kind man who kept me company and we skipped down the mountain. I was not feeling well. That was a fact.

I just wanted to get back to Aguas Calientes as fast as possible. I sprinted towards the exit. We weaved in and out of stubborn tourists who liked to walk painfully slowly and not let anyone pass. The rain was still coming down. My rain jacket felt inadequate. My sneakers were soaked. My pants clung to me. And my body was shaking.

The line for the bus back down to Aguas Calientes was way too long and uncovered. I put on all my layers, turned to Nate, and declared I was ready to head back. Step step step. Eternal stairs.

The rain didn’t stop that night. But when we finally got back to the hotel, we changed into dry clothes and I hopped into bed. Nate didn’t let me stay there for long. We had to get something to eat. All that trekking on empty tummies is not good. We had brought energy and candy bars, but those only go so far. Real food was imperative.

But for some reason I wasn’t hungry. No, I just didn’t have an appetite. Hmmm. We sit down to a nice dinner. I order quinoa soup and a quinoa risotto to replenish my protein for the day. But when the food came, I was shivering and didn’t feel like eating. I forced myself to eat the soup, but soon felt nauseous. I made it to the bathroom before I puked.

I couldn’t eat anymore and apologized to the waitress. We hardly made it back to the hotel before I puked again. Nate ran out to the nearest pharmacy and (all in Spanish) explained my situation. He returned successful with some pills. Way to go, Nate!

But soon after I took the pills, I started burning up. Worse than before. Nate got worried when he felt my face. My eyes were bloodshot and my cheeks were flushed. I knew something was very wrong with me. Nate went to the reception to call a doctor and I whimpered in bed until he came back. I was so tired and feverish.

Finally the doctors came, yes there were two, and asked some questions. They gave me some more pills and some pink rehydrating liquid. They said that I’d be fine to travel by tomorrow. My fever was hovering between 100-102.3 degrees Fahrenheit.

Cusco to Aguas Calientes! No transit strike will hold us back!

October 4, 2008

The bus ride was long. Very long. I guess I woke up around 7am when the sun was up. We received a roll and a half of a Styrofoam cup of tea for breakfast courtesy of the bus company.

I guess it was around 10am when we had to stop to change the tire. One of the travelers had a soccer ball, so a few of us kicked it around for a bit. There was also a fairly large group of Peruvian high school kids on the bus on a field trip. We challenged each other to a match, so it was five against five. I thought that they would whoop us, but we gringos held our own. I was the only girl playing and (if I can pat myself on the back) I was responsible for a large percentage of the goals and steals. The game was over when we kicked the ball one too many times into the dirty stream down below. We won.

After 19 hours on the bus, we pulled into Cusco. Driving into the city, I was not impressed. We shared a cab with two English girls and ended up paying 75 céntimos each to get to the Plaza de Armas. We shouldered our packs and walked to Hostal Quechua, which promised free internet, breakfast, and tea. The friendly receptionist poured us two mugs of coca tea upon arrival. Mmmm… I had always heard of the supposedly cure-all coca leaves (my mom swears by it for altitude sickness and Bolivians use it for everything!), but I had never had it before.

It was then that we opened the flood gates to the coca tea.

We walked around to get our bearings in this new city. We found the tourist information, the market, and all the cute side streets. Cuzco is nice. Very touristy, but what else can we expect for the jumping off point to Machu Picchu, the Inca trail, Pisac, and other spectacularly preserved ruins?



We walked around for a long time trying to find the ellusive Indian food restaurant, so we settled for Alpaca and pizza instead. My Alpaca dish was delicious! Nate's pizza was not very good. We shared both dishes, which ended up making me quite sick.

Back in the hostel, there was no internet. And we were paying an obscene amount of money for the room. So we told the receptionist 'thanks, but no thanks' and packed our bags. We gave them $2 each for the showers, but opted for the backpacker party mecca called Loki. Free internet, breakfast, coca tea, and kitchen privileges. Perfect!

But whenever we're in Loki, there's always some kind of drama. One of our dormitory-mates came in at 4:30am and had smashed his front teeth into his bottom lip and had no idea how it had happened. I put on some clothes and provided some moral support for his girlfriend until the doctor decided to take him to the hospital.

Sunday, October 5, 2008

Got up leisurely. Spent some time walking around the city. Took advantage of the kitchen to cook up some lunch and dinner. Met some wonderful American women with Obama pins in the Plaza de Armas. And internet internet internet.



Monday, October 6, 2008

Another travel day means getting up early. We hopped down to the train station to get our Ollantaytambo- Aguas Calientes train ticket. But no. The woman at the desk said that they were all sold out. You see, because of the transit strike the next day, all the travelers are booking their tickets in advance. The next available train would leave on Thursday. Thursday?! We don't have that kinda time.

We hop back to the hostel brainstorming all the way. We decided to go to Ollantaytambo anyway and then sweet talking our way onto the train. If that failed, well we didn't have a back up plan, so it couldn't fail... right?

Made some eggs and hopped a colectivo to Ollantaytambo. We missed the 12:11pm train, so we bought slightly more expensive tickets for the 18:58 train. That meant that we had at least 6 hours to explore this quaint, yet grossly touristic town.

It was raining, so we hopped in a restaurant for some yummy food! And then took a stroll around the town. We still had 4 hours to kill.

So we strolled around again. And again. Vendors tried to sell us coca candy, bags, ponchos, ANYTHING! But we fended them off. The main ruins of the city were 40 soles to enter. 40 soles? eek.

So we opted for the free ruins across town. To get there we had to go through a family's back yard and scramble up the rocky hillside. The children pointed the way. The air was thin and we were getting some good training for Machu Picchu!

We explored the ruins. And then spotted some more ruins and hiked to those.

It was getting dark when we made our way down. So we headed to the train station to wait. The train came and we hopped aboard. Dinner and cramped leg room were included in the price. The rain drops plopped against the windows.

Aguas Calientes met us with a hectic welcoming crowd shoving hostel brochures in our faces. But we had booked ahead. A guy held a sign with my name and we followed him in the rain to the hostel.

I was a bit disappointed at the first impressions of Aguas Calientes. Expensive tourist town. Raining, but my pasta was ok and Nate's alpaca was good.

We fell quickly asleep that night.

After sandboarding in Huacachina and Nazca lines, we're off to Cusco!

October 2, 2008.

We awake in a beautiful desert oasis nestled among palm trees and hammocks. Towering sand dunes fill in on all sides. We take our time getting up. The kitchen is at our command. Soup for me and my tummy. Pancakes with fresh fruit, bathed in chocolate for Nate. Fair? I think not!

Intrigued, we head down to the water’s edge to do a perimeter walk. Scout out potential lunch places. The weather is flawless and the sun glistens off of the water.

We make friends with Jamie and Daniel back at the Banana Hostel and end up talking so long that we almost don’t make it to Ica. I bargain with the cab driver for a speedy ATM and grocery run and we’re back in Huacachina before we know it!

A comfortable lunch (with an ice cream scoop for dessert?!) and we get ready for… SANDBOARDING! I am so excited and have no idea what to expect. I have gone snow boarding on a couple occasions, but sandboarding?!

4:30pm arrives and we coat ourselves with suntan lotion. Nate and I claim the two front seats of the dune buggy. Click. Buckle our seat belts. And off we go!

The driver puts the buggy in gear and floors the gas pedal. We fly out of the little town and into the great wide desert sand. We climb up a dune and cruise down the other side of it! It’s like a wild rollercoaster ride. The driver grins as we gasp wide-eyed and plummet into the sand valleys. Not a journey for the faint of heart, but rather a journey for the adrenaline junkie.

We pull up onto the top of a hill and file out of the buggy. The view is spectacular! Rolling sand dunes with pockets of green hidden away. But here’s the fun part… we are each handed a board and a candle. We “wax” down our boards with the candles, strap them to our feet and try to make it down the hill.


I try it lying down first. Clutching to the straps, I fly down the hill, going much faster than I had expected. What a rush!



For the next hill I get a little braver. I strap the board to my feet and cautiously peer over the edge. Here goes nothing! I make it down, slow at first, steadying myself with my hand. Whew!


Third hill, I am more confident, but still scared out of my mind.


The fourth hill was the last practice hill. Nate was the second to last person to come down. Jamie, our friend from the hostel, was the last. All eyes were on him as he started his descent. He went straight down. He picked up speed, but stayed crouched down to steady himself. As he stood up a little, the board caught in the sand. We watched as if it were in slow motion as Jamie fell, hitting his head, and summersalting over and over. When he came to a stop, he lay there face down in the sand.

Panicked we all sprinted towards him. He regained consciousness and could respond to questions, but he was clearly in shock. A kind nurse steadied him as we waited for him to recover. What a scary moment! He ended up being able to walk back to the buggy, but we were all still worried. He had been going so fast and hit his head so hard! We all feared long term damage.

We hopped in the dune buggy and set out for the longest and most awesome hill yet. After Jamie’s incident, we all decided to tackle this one laying down. This hill was so steep that there was a part of it we couldn’t see over the edge. It’s terrifying to put your confidence in an activity that you can’t see.



And it was so scary! But so much fun! We were going so fast down that hill and the only brakes we had were our feet behind us. I tried to brake so hard, but I still ended up going the farthest! What a fun day!


We started our drive back as the sun was setting. We bounced in and out of the dunes. The driver kept pushing the buggy, faster and faster! And around tight corners. It was so fun and so beautiful!
We had a lot to talk about that night. Poor Jamie was still recovering from his fall. Nate and I cooked up a mean soup before heading over to the next hostel to watch the second half of the Vice-Presidential debate. It was a little painful to watch.

After hanging out with the other passengers on the dune buggy ride, we retired to our bungaloo.

October 3, 2008. Which also happened to be my 23rd birthday.

Nate let me sleep in! I woke up to more soup. Soup soup soup.

The laguna of Huacachina is featured on the back of the 20 soles bill, so we decided to climb up one of the sand dunes for the view. Sand walking is tough. For every step you take, your foot slides down half a step. Step, slide, step, slide.




We finally got to the top and had a wonderful 360 degree view. We saw the laguna of Huacachina below us, Ica 5 km away, and sand sand sand extending in all directions after that. It was beautiful!

We ran back down the dune taking giant steps!

Quickly packed and headed to Ica. Bought our tickets to Nazca and sat in the waiting room munching on animal crackers and watching bad TV. As we boarded the bus, the security guard told us to hold our bags on our laps, not under the seat and not overhead. Gotcha. We’ve had this routine before gracias a Latacunga. Apparently the successful culprits passed on their knowledge. But we’re not falling for it this time.

We arrived in Nazca and convinced a pretty pricey hotel to watch our bags until our night bus. Then we set off walking. Goal: get to the mirador to see the Nazca lines.

Nazca lines? They’re actually pretty cool. They are a network of over 800 lines, 300 geometric figures (geoglyphs) and some 70 animal and plant drawings (biomorphs) drawn over 500 sq km of desert. They are huge pictures carved into the earth and can only be appreciated from the sky. No one really knows what they were used for or what inspired the Nazca people to sculpt them over 1500 years ago (before technology was invented to view them!).

Flights, however, were beyond our meager budget. At $60 per person for a half an hour flight, we figured that that money would be better off spent elsewhere. We opted for the mirador, a 30 foot tower in the desert 30km outside of town, from which you could see maybe three figures.

We had been told that a taxi to the mirador would be 60 soles, so when the taxi driver quoted 40 soles, we jumped in. But then the driver did something strange. He called over a person who sells phone calls. He made a call and said something along the lines of “I have two tourists. I’m taking them to the mirador.” Nate and I looked at each other. We had heard of taxi drivers taking tourists to the middle of nowhere or a deserted part of town and then a group of people would come out of nowhere and mug them. We were carrying not only our computers, but our wallets, our camera and our passports. Everything that was valuable or important.

As we started driving out of Nazca, I nervously struck up a conversation with the driver. My reason being that if he got to know us, he’d be less likely to hurt or steal from us. The conversation was awesome. We told him about us (what we studied in school, where we were from, about our trip) and he told us about himself (about his wife and children, about Peru, and about himself).


We pulled up to the mirador and I was still a little nervous. We were in the middle of the desert. But the driver had delivered on his promise to take us to the mirador and there were some vendors selling trinkets, so we weren’t all alone. The view itself was less than spectacular, but I’m sure we would have regretted not coming. On the way back into town, a man at the mirador asked if he could share the ride with us. At first I was uneasy about it, but then figured that it’d be safer with more people.

The whole ride back we gave the man Chinese lessons.

Lunch! They forgot our mate de coca, but otherwise it was good. Our overnight bus left at 8pm, so until then we wasted time sitting in the Plaza de Armas, interneting, and buying a huge box of donuts (it was my birthday afterall). The donuts ended up being less than desirable, so we ended up giving them out to people on the street. People were skeptical, quizzical, and then thankful for the free treats.

As the sun set the only thought on my mind was: Cusco here we come!

Paracas: The good, the bad, and the delicious

Tuesday September 30, 2008. My alarm disturbed my slumber at 5:15am. Quick shower, warmed up soup for breakfast, packed and headed out.

It was our first ever experience with Cruz Del Sur, supreme luxury bus. The prices are so high that only foreigners and very rich Peruvians ever take it. The bus station reminded me of an airport. The bus was double-decker with foot-rests and nearly fully reclining seats. The bus-attendant went through a safety talk before serving our breakfasts. Not soon after, we began a bingo game for a bottle of pisco. The next step up would have been back-of-the-seat entertainment.

I almost didn’t want to get off at Paracas, a beach town 15 km south of Earthquake-rocked Pisco. We were met with a hot sun and persistent hostel representatives. Nate and I opted to walk into the center of town. We looked at each and every hostel. Price, services, staff friendliness.

The sun was very hot and we had all of our bags on. I started getting crabby. The guys from certain hostel keep following us, which just turned us off more. We hiked all over town looking for places and ended up at one that gave us a good deal on a boat to the Islas Ballestas. Sweaty and exhausted we dropped our bags and headed out to eat.

What to eat in a beach town? Seafood? Ok! We feel adventuresome enough to try the ceviche de corvina (raw fish marinated in lime and hot pepper topped with onion) and the chicarrón de calamar (mmmm… fried calamari). Both dishes were big steps for Nate and I commend his efforts to chip away at his food-phobias!


The ceviche came first. Moment of truth, would he like it?? Would I like it?!


It was odd at first, but then we both decided that it was quite tasty! Mmm… I loved the spicy sauce and the combination with the onion. The texture was a lot like sashimi (hey, I wonder why?!).





Next came the calamari, battered and fried. And… Nate liked it! Success on all fronts! Hooray for delicious seafood!





With nothing to do for the rest of the day, we set out walking for the National Reserve. They all said it was too far for us to walk, especially that late in the day, but what else were we going to do? So we faced the sun and set out walking. We passed luxurious houses with beautiful flower gardens, we passed the sites of future development exploiting the natural beauty of the coast, uninhibited desert winds, friendly dogs and unpaved roads.




We finally arrived at the entrance of the park where we met a friendly park guard. The sun was on its way down as we started our walk back into town.



Dinner was a little bit of a disappointment after our spectacular lunch. And my stomach wasn’t having anything to do with it.

Wednesday October 1, 2008

I woke up at 2am in pain. I woke up at 4am in more pain and weak. I knew it was time to set aside my pride and just get medical help. Around 6am, Nate went downstairs to ask about the nearest hospital. There was only a clinic in Paracas, but that didn’t open until 11am. I put on some clothes and we headed out to Pisco. The people in our colectivo were super nice. The driver tried to ask for more money than he was due.

The earthquake a few months ago flattened much of Pisco. The hospital was one of the buildings destroyed, so much of the complex is tent city. I paid my 4 soles ($1.33) for an emergency room consult and was attended to almost immediately.

I got a prescription from a friendly doctor and we returned to Paracas. No IV because my dehydration wasn’t severe enough to warrant one. We got back to the hotel at 8am sharp. We had a boat reservation for that time. Let's go!



We hop down to the pier where there's a massive crowd of tourists. After paying our 1 sol exit tax, we are shuttled onto boats. Vrroooom! We're off!





First stop Candelabra! Next stop islands! And birds. Lots and lots of birds. It was practically impossible to take a picture without a orange life-vested tourist in the way. Sea lions. Dolphins. They call it the poor man's Galapagos. It was definitely cheaper than the 5 day Ecuadorian cruise and we sure saw some wildlife.






Back on land we buy our bus tickets for Ica. The pharmacist runs away with my prescription. We sit in a park until the bus arrives. My poor stomach tries to fend off the bad germies.




Good thing the bus ride was a short one. And since we had the last row, we could recline our seats all the way. Wheeeeeee!



Arrived in Ica and and over-friendly ambitious taxi driver (and tour booker) drove us to the desert oasis town of Huacachina. He drove us to all his friend's hostels and we finally found one within our budget. It was a bungaloo with bunkbeds and shared bathrooms. We'll take it!

The microwaved lasagna makes me feel sick. Bed time.

Funny faces in Sechín and wanderings in Lima "book your hostel in advance" Perú

The alarm goes off early on the morning of Sunday, September 28. We pack up our stuff and eat a little something before we’re out the door by 9am. It’s gonna be a long day ahead of us. Peter meets us at our hostel and we rrrrrrrr down the street in his moto-rickshaw, as Nate carefully watches the mechanics of motorcycle riding. We pick up the bikes and take off!

My bike frequently clicks and snaps. Nate’s is way too small for him. All of the tires are low on air. Good thing it’s only 5km. The shoulder of the road disappeared. Extremely large VOLVO trucks honked us out of their way. The military guards by the speed bump waved at us.

And before we knew it, we were in the country side! We biked along the road past pastures. What a different experience from the inside of a bus. We were out in the countryside instead of just watching it whiz by the window!

My bike couldn’t shift gears, so at times I chugged along and at times I cruised!

We passed over a tiny bridge and turned left, avoiding the larger bridge to Huaraz (sorry Nate, maybe next time). A few more miles and we made it!

Down the gravel road we find the ruins. But wait! We have to pay 6 soles entrance fee. “Museum first, ruins second” says a sign, so we oblige.

The museum is a funny sight. And by funny, I mean pretty darn empty. I think Nate was relieved. We flew through it, excited by the prospects of 3600-year-old ruins of a temple “covered with gruesomely realistic bas-relief carvings of warrior and captives being vividly eviscerated.” (Lonely Planet, South America on a shoe string, Peru) Sweet.



Well, kinda. By my ruins standards, which have been set pretty high from Lebanon, Jordan and Egypt, it’s nothing spectacular. We climb up for a bird’s eye view of the ruins and run back down.





We make faces at the reliefs as they giggle back.






But quickly now! We have a bus to catch!! We hop back on the bikes. My legs feel like jelly; am I really this out of shape?! Heading back to Casma is easier since it’s all down hill! Moto-rickshaws, cars and trucks honked as they passed.



We dropped off the bikes at their homes and walked back to the hostel. We had a good hour to wait until the next bus for Lima, so we waited. Peter stopped by to check in. He ended up waiting with us for our bus. What a good guy! He went above and beyond what we had hoped. We quickly tutored him in English and joked around. It was sad to leave, but Lima here we come!

But not so fast! Our bus received a punctured tire along the journey. We ended up arriving in Lima after the sun had set. I’d read some things about Lima. You know, big city with high unemployment rate. Better to take the secure cabs. Don’t walk in certain parts of the city alone. The woman at the bus company office said that we wouldn’t be able to get a secure cab at that hour. Oh no. Two friendly women hailed us a cab and bargained the driver down.

We kept a careful eye out the window to make sure we were going in the right direction. The cab driver was very nice and dropped us off at the hostal. Whew! We lug ourselves up the stairs only to find that there are no more rooms available. We wander around, tired and hungry until we give up and hop in another cab. The driver is super awesome. He calls all his buddies to try to find out where this other elusive hostel is. With team work, we drive and find it.

The talkative guy at the hostel does not pick up on my "I'm very tired and hungry, please stop explaining how a refrigerator works" look. We find an overpriced Arabic food restaurant and pig out!

On the bus ride from Casma, my forehead started burning. Followed by stomach cramps. Followed by headache and fatigue. Followed by worse stomach cramps. Food just made it worse.

I was in so much pain. And shaking from fever. I don't know how I got back to the hostel, but as soon as I did, I collapsed into bed for a night of feverish dreams.

Monday, September 29.

By morning my fever had subsided a bit. At least I was coherent. We packed our bags and set off for another hostel. After wandering all morning through Miraflores we finally ended up at the backpackers' party central: Loki. We got a bright green wrist-band. Internet, communal kitchen, and comfy beds. Sounds like paradise to me!

Don't remember much about Monday. My stomach was doing all sorts of grumpy things. I spent most of the day in a fetal position trying to convince myself that tea, soup and positive thinking would alleviate my pain. And it did. Kinda.

Soup and wine was dinner. Quite a delicous dinner. We booked our bus for Pisco/Paracas for the next morning! Leave the hostel at 6:00am?! Time to get to bed!