We've been hanging out (doing a little programming, playing a little poker) in a new section of Lima, about a 15-minute walk from the ocean. The ups include our extremely (really, extremely) friendly hostel owner and Lima's continual overcast weather. The down is that there are far fewer restaurants in this district, but since there's a big supermarket close-by we've started cooking for ourselves in the hostel, which is perfect. (I still like to get the excellent fried yuca at the local chinese restaurant).
Two great supermarket deals: A whole pineapple for 60 cents, and three delicious croissants for 60 cents. That's a great breakfast right there (minus the coffee). Speaking of which, for a coffee exporting country, it is extremely difficult to find good coffee. Everyone drinks nescafe. This means that cafe con leche is really leche con cafe, since they bring you a teacup of heated milk, into which you stir the instant coffee.
Another difference that has gone uncommented so far is the extremely high incidence of honking in the streets. Depending on the city, it's not uncommon for 2 of 3 cars on the street to be taxis which, if empty, will honk twice as they pass you to let you know they're available--even if it's perfectly clear you don't want a taxi. You can imagine how this honking adds up. Taxis also honk pretty regularly at each other as a kind of navigational aide to let the others know they're there. I've become pretty used to crusing into a 4-way, totally unctonrolled intersection at about 20mph because the taxi drivers seem to know their business pretty well. I also figure this is good training for Asia where matters are likely to be a whole lot more hectic.
We were going to be hiking in the north around this time with Club de Mochileros. Sadly, their main trip seems to have fallen through, and we've been having trouble reliably contacting them. Today we decided between the beach town of Trujillo or the mountain town of Huaraz, and opted for Huaraz on the theory that we'd see lots of beaches in SE Asia, and we like a good hike in the mountains. We don't have the time or supplies for any of their really serious treks (though this is something I'd like to come back and do a different trip), but we'll probably take a good day-hike or two.
A final peculiarity. When we bought our bus tickets online, they wanted our mother's maiden names, which we dutifly filled-in, being in form-completion mode. Only when the process was completed did we realize they wanted them to force their matriachical naming conventions upon us for our printed tickets.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Our trek pt. 3
I woke up on the third day with that kind of groggy out-of-it feeling I have when I get sick. I also seemed a little hot. On the other hand, it was early, and I could well have been sun-burned. How can one tell? I took an advil, and we started our third day of hiking.
Most of the morning hike was on a very uneven, rocky trail about a foot and a half wide with a sheer drop on one side that started at a few hundred feet, and grew to over a thousand feet as we climbed. Suffice it to say, it was a morning of very careful, awe-filled walking.
The map we had discussed had us climb to about 3/4ths the height of Cabanaconde on the other side of the canyon, then descend again to a town that sounded like "wasi". Here we could decide to spend a 3rd night if we wanted to. Otherwise, we would do a straight climb from the canyon floor, 3,500 feet back to Cabanaconde. Here is a shot mid-morning of that third day. Across the canyon you can see about the first half (maybe a little less) of the trail leading back up to Cabanaconde.
And here's a photo of me a little further along the same trail (with some really cool terracing).
Somewhere along the trail, it dawned on me that the town that sounded like "wasi" was actually "oasis" (imagine saying it quickly in spanish and de-emphasize the final 's'). From the hot, dusty trail above, it was not hard to see why:
After 5 hours of walking, we finally made it to Oasis. Here's a shot of Jen crossing the bridge that leads to the camp:
Jen had a dip in one of their lovely pools, and we both had a delicious lunch with some French tourists (there were a lot of French and German tourists in Cabanaconde). Having forgotten entirely about my morning discomfort I felt excited to attempt the climb back to town, and Jen agreed.
After lunch, we proceeded to walk up very steep switchbacks for about 3.5 hours, occasionally watching other people pass us riding mules as sweat soaked and exhausted as we were. Near the top, it was a real fight for both of us, but we finally made it, very proud of ourselves.
I bounded into town (as much as I was able), ravenous for a big dinner, only to discover the entire town had closed to watch the final bull fight, so I had to wait another two hours before I could eat!
It was only later in the night that it occurred to me I should have taken it a little easy instead of pushing myself, because I had a strong fever with a lot of coughing and sniffling into the night.
Most of the morning hike was on a very uneven, rocky trail about a foot and a half wide with a sheer drop on one side that started at a few hundred feet, and grew to over a thousand feet as we climbed. Suffice it to say, it was a morning of very careful, awe-filled walking.
The map we had discussed had us climb to about 3/4ths the height of Cabanaconde on the other side of the canyon, then descend again to a town that sounded like "wasi". Here we could decide to spend a 3rd night if we wanted to. Otherwise, we would do a straight climb from the canyon floor, 3,500 feet back to Cabanaconde. Here is a shot mid-morning of that third day. Across the canyon you can see about the first half (maybe a little less) of the trail leading back up to Cabanaconde.
And here's a photo of me a little further along the same trail (with some really cool terracing).
Somewhere along the trail, it dawned on me that the town that sounded like "wasi" was actually "oasis" (imagine saying it quickly in spanish and de-emphasize the final 's'). From the hot, dusty trail above, it was not hard to see why:
After 5 hours of walking, we finally made it to Oasis. Here's a shot of Jen crossing the bridge that leads to the camp:
Jen had a dip in one of their lovely pools, and we both had a delicious lunch with some French tourists (there were a lot of French and German tourists in Cabanaconde). Having forgotten entirely about my morning discomfort I felt excited to attempt the climb back to town, and Jen agreed.
After lunch, we proceeded to walk up very steep switchbacks for about 3.5 hours, occasionally watching other people pass us riding mules as sweat soaked and exhausted as we were. Near the top, it was a real fight for both of us, but we finally made it, very proud of ourselves.
I bounded into town (as much as I was able), ravenous for a big dinner, only to discover the entire town had closed to watch the final bull fight, so I had to wait another two hours before I could eat!
It was only later in the night that it occurred to me I should have taken it a little easy instead of pushing myself, because I had a strong fever with a lot of coughing and sniffling into the night.
Our trek pt. 2
Since we left at dawn, and were hiking in the bottom of a very deep canyon, we managed to do almost the entire day's hike in the shade--a vast improvement over the sweaty first day. We hiked a relatively gentle incline for several hours, followed by two hours of quite steep ascent to our second day's destination. About 5 minutes out from the small town a 13-year old girl ran out to meet us. She told us her name was Lucy, asked all about us, and told us that she had a hostel, which she enthusiastically walked us to. The rooms--indeed the whole village--is perched on a steep slope a few hundred feet above the river (high up one of the valleys, about an hour's walk from a waterfall).
Here are a few shots of our 2nd night's rooms:
The town itself is larger than this small cluster of houses. The rest of the town is uphill from where we stayed. All together, there were maybe 10-15 families.
Here's a shot of Jen helping Lucy's younger brother tie his shoe.
Almost against our will, we succumbed to a nap in the afternoon, and walked without our pack to the waterfall and back. Through pure dumb luck I also managed to beat Jen for the first time in gin rummy.
Our room was somewhat less solidly built than that of our first night, and the tarp they stretched under the thatching of the roof flapped in the wind off and on through the night. It woke us up, but was kind of exciting and fun (I thought) nonetheless.
Here are a few shots of our 2nd night's rooms:
The town itself is larger than this small cluster of houses. The rest of the town is uphill from where we stayed. All together, there were maybe 10-15 families.
Here's a shot of Jen helping Lucy's younger brother tie his shoe.
Almost against our will, we succumbed to a nap in the afternoon, and walked without our pack to the waterfall and back. Through pure dumb luck I also managed to beat Jen for the first time in gin rummy.
Our room was somewhat less solidly built than that of our first night, and the tarp they stretched under the thatching of the roof flapped in the wind off and on through the night. It woke us up, but was kind of exciting and fun (I thought) nonetheless.
Our trek p1. 1
We left pretty late in the morning (about 8:30) for the first day of our trek. Most of the first day's hike involved a 3,500 ft. descent from Cabanaconde to the Colca river at the base of the canyon. The size of the canyon is totally impossible convey in words or, I think, pictures, but we did our best.
In this shot, you can see some of the canyon (though not all the way to the bottom), as well as a later section of the trail we'd walk along.
Here we are a little further along. You can see some of the terracing and one of the small villages near the canyon base. You can see the edge of the Colca river in the lower right-hand corner of the shot. Look at how deep this appears and then remember that we took this shot after we'd already descended about 2000 feet.
Here's another shot of the mountain village across the way. (We actually never stayed at that one. On the first day we passed it from below, and on the third day we passed it from far above).
After the long descent, we crossed a bridge, and hiked more or less along the river (a few hundred feet up) for two hours, passing below the town in the photo above. Finally, we arrived at the second bridge (pictured below), and our accommodations for the first day (which you can make out on the very left-hand side of the photo).
It's more of a camping-outpost than a town. There are just two families right above the river. The trail terminates in a covered wooden balcony overlooking the river with tables to sit at. After our long hike, we were happy to sit and enjoy the view. Lip had told us to try and lodge with "the family on the right", though, so after a quick break we went across the trail and found Virginia.
She had a beautiful place. Here is a shot of our rooms from the side.
And here is the view from our door.
She makes some of her income renting these rooms to hikers, but much of her income comes from cactus farming. Here is a shot of our bathroom with some of the cacti.
Jen asked if she sold the cactus fruit, but Virginia told us that a whole bag of the fruit can only get 20 centavos. Instead, a species of insect lay their eggs on the surface of the cacti (what Virginia called a "plague"). Though it looks white, when you scrape it off, it's a deep blood red color. Virginia says that she scrapes the cacti every three months to sell this as a dye.
Virginia also has several sheep, ducks and chickens, a pig, a cat, two dogs, and a small garden where she's planted several kinds of trees. Jen and I talked with her for several hours about all kinds of things--she said it was nice to have guests who spoke Spanish because then we could get to know each other much better (instead of just "hola!"). She cooked us a delicious lunch and dinner, and agreed to have a breakfast ready for us at 5:30 the next morning for our second day of hiking.
In this shot, you can see some of the canyon (though not all the way to the bottom), as well as a later section of the trail we'd walk along.
Here we are a little further along. You can see some of the terracing and one of the small villages near the canyon base. You can see the edge of the Colca river in the lower right-hand corner of the shot. Look at how deep this appears and then remember that we took this shot after we'd already descended about 2000 feet.
Here's another shot of the mountain village across the way. (We actually never stayed at that one. On the first day we passed it from below, and on the third day we passed it from far above).
After the long descent, we crossed a bridge, and hiked more or less along the river (a few hundred feet up) for two hours, passing below the town in the photo above. Finally, we arrived at the second bridge (pictured below), and our accommodations for the first day (which you can make out on the very left-hand side of the photo).
It's more of a camping-outpost than a town. There are just two families right above the river. The trail terminates in a covered wooden balcony overlooking the river with tables to sit at. After our long hike, we were happy to sit and enjoy the view. Lip had told us to try and lodge with "the family on the right", though, so after a quick break we went across the trail and found Virginia.
She had a beautiful place. Here is a shot of our rooms from the side.
And here is the view from our door.
She makes some of her income renting these rooms to hikers, but much of her income comes from cactus farming. Here is a shot of our bathroom with some of the cacti.
Jen asked if she sold the cactus fruit, but Virginia told us that a whole bag of the fruit can only get 20 centavos. Instead, a species of insect lay their eggs on the surface of the cacti (what Virginia called a "plague"). Though it looks white, when you scrape it off, it's a deep blood red color. Virginia says that she scrapes the cacti every three months to sell this as a dye.Virginia also has several sheep, ducks and chickens, a pig, a cat, two dogs, and a small garden where she's planted several kinds of trees. Jen and I talked with her for several hours about all kinds of things--she said it was nice to have guests who spoke Spanish because then we could get to know each other much better (instead of just "hola!"). She cooked us a delicious lunch and dinner, and agreed to have a breakfast ready for us at 5:30 the next morning for our second day of hiking.
Views around Cabanaconde
Cabanaconde sits on the edge of the canyon, hemmed in by mountains on the other side. Beyond the central plaza, there are shops and hostels for 2 blocks along the main road which quickly turn into houses and then terraced farmland. There are no cars. When there's no festival going on, it's quiet enough to hear the whistling of the wind, and the air has that crisp, clean quality of being in the mountains. I really liked it.
Here are two shots of the central plaza:
On our first morning, we hiked up the hill from town to a small church and lookout point. Here's a shot of the edge of town from the hill. This view makes it clear just how abruptly the canyon drops away at the town's edge.
In the other direction, you can see more farmland, and their bull fighting arena. Apparently they held two bull fights on the last two days of their festival, but we were hiking at the time. In any case, Lip told us on our return that the tourists who had gone said it was pretty sickening so perhaps it was for the best. (All the vegetarian restaurants we've been in all over Peru have anti-bullfighting stickers with the slogan "ni arte, ni cultura" which mean "not art, not culture").
In the afternoon we made our way back to Pachamama and sat down with Louie and Lib to talk about hiking in the canyon. Our guidebook discussed several ways to hire local guides (or men with burros) to organize your trek. Since Louis was a trekking guide, we thought he should know, and it soon became clear that we didn't really need a guide. He gave us a map and talked us through a 3 day/2 night trek that he liked a lot. We wouldn't need to camp, because we would be hiking between small mountain villages which could house and feed us overnight. Unlike the Sierras, there are no dangerous animals.
There is a native plant whose milk can burn your skin or blind you if you get it in your eyes, but you have to break the stems to get the milk out, and it only grows in a small portion of our hike. So we figured as long as we didn't go breaking any stems we'd be fine. The trails are also extremely obvious, because they are all narrow paths along the canyon walls. From the lookout point at Cabanaconde we could see many of the trails we'd be taking into and along the canyon. In addition to their free trekking advice and map, Louie and Lip also let us securely store our bags at their hostel for our 3 days, free of charge. We made it a point to eat there as much as we could--which was easy because their restaurant was delicious--and we ended up spending our last night after the hike with them.
Here are two shots of the central plaza:
On our first morning, we hiked up the hill from town to a small church and lookout point. Here's a shot of the edge of town from the hill. This view makes it clear just how abruptly the canyon drops away at the town's edge.
In the other direction, you can see more farmland, and their bull fighting arena. Apparently they held two bull fights on the last two days of their festival, but we were hiking at the time. In any case, Lip told us on our return that the tourists who had gone said it was pretty sickening so perhaps it was for the best. (All the vegetarian restaurants we've been in all over Peru have anti-bullfighting stickers with the slogan "ni arte, ni cultura" which mean "not art, not culture").
In the afternoon we made our way back to Pachamama and sat down with Louie and Lib to talk about hiking in the canyon. Our guidebook discussed several ways to hire local guides (or men with burros) to organize your trek. Since Louis was a trekking guide, we thought he should know, and it soon became clear that we didn't really need a guide. He gave us a map and talked us through a 3 day/2 night trek that he liked a lot. We wouldn't need to camp, because we would be hiking between small mountain villages which could house and feed us overnight. Unlike the Sierras, there are no dangerous animals. There is a native plant whose milk can burn your skin or blind you if you get it in your eyes, but you have to break the stems to get the milk out, and it only grows in a small portion of our hike. So we figured as long as we didn't go breaking any stems we'd be fine. The trails are also extremely obvious, because they are all narrow paths along the canyon walls. From the lookout point at Cabanaconde we could see many of the trails we'd be taking into and along the canyon. In addition to their free trekking advice and map, Louie and Lip also let us securely store our bags at their hostel for our 3 days, free of charge. We made it a point to eat there as much as we could--which was easy because their restaurant was delicious--and we ended up spending our last night after the hike with them.
Adventure to Cabanaconde
Arequipa is about 100 miles from the Colca Canyon--a canyon twice as deep as the Grand Canyon and home to the endangered Andean condor--where we were planning to hike for a few days. We left the Arequipa bus station (pictured below) at about 2pm for a 7 hour bus ride to the small town of Cabanaconde. This shot is only about half the bus station. Notice how much bread the small shops have. We have no idea how they can possibly sell that much bread since we didn't witness even a single purchase during our hour wait.
The bus company we booked with was called Senior De Los Milagros (lord of miracles). Jen joked that she hoped their name didn't reflect their operating policy when a man at the front asked for everyone's attention while he prayed for the safety of our journey. Thankfully, he wasn't an official representative of the bus company, and this was only the opening ploy in his effort to sell children's instructional materials (books about physics and chemistry!) for a dollar a workbook. His 20-minute harangue was just one of several examples we would suffer of the refined rhetorical art of the hard sell. (My favorite part was his descriptive portrait of the scam artist, and how we could rest assured that he wasn't one--"I'm a just an ordinary guy like you all, telling you what I think").
Though the bus was full when we embarked, another 25 or so people got on at the first stop out of town, filling the center isle. Some of them had brought buckets to sit on, but many just stood or, (as the old woman next to me) elected to sit on another passenger's armrest. Every time we passed a toll booth, everyone in the center aisle ducked so the police couldn't see them from the road. Even though Jen and I are pretty sure this practice of overloading the buses is illegal, we are also sure it's universal, and more or less overlooked. To what extent this compromises safety is unclear. Since sunset is around 5:30 or 6, it was dark for most of our journey there. On the way back I only saw one overturned bus husk. In any case, about two hours outside of town the toll checkpoints stopped along with the paved road.
Around 7pm, we arrived at Chivay, where the only other tourists on the bus decided to get off because they “didn't have a place in Cabanaconda”, the even smaller end-of-the-line 2 hours away where, incidentally, we didn't have a place to stay either. As we waited to go, more and more locals crammed on board, causing the existing passengers to yell “esta lleno!” (it's full!) and “vamanos! Estamos hambre!” (let's go! we're hungry!). Jen and I started to get out our headphones to listen to music when the priest across the aisle advised us that we should be careful with our bags because "they would rob us". We were touched that he used the tu form with us for his warning. I reasoned that, taking confessions, he would probably know, so we discretely tucked our things away.
Two hours later, as we pulled into the narrow streets of Cabanaconde, we noticed somewhere between 50 and 100 squatting men lining either side of the bus, apparently waiting. Even the large cities we've been in shut down early, so the sight of so many people out in such a small town confused and somewhat unsettled us; something was definitely afoot and we had no idea what.
The bus unloaded in the small main plaza, where there was only a small crowd waiting for the bus. We bee-lined for the hostel, not 30 steps away, and secured what turned out to be a very lovely room for 20 soles. Five minutes after we'd settled in our hostel, the mystery of the waiting men resolved itself. We heard a cacophonous homophony of trumpets playing a sort-of bugle call. I captured a little bit of it from the hostel window (before we went out and joined them):
Apparently we had arrived at the beginning of a celebration of the town's founding that lasts 4 days. Though much smaller and less elaborate than the festival in Cusco, the musicians and townspeople more than made up for it in vigor and enthusiasm. As we watched from the center of the plaza, the parade and dancers made 4 or 5 laps around us since the town is so small there apparently isn't really anywhere else to parade to.
We had oven fired pizzas in a neighboring hostel (pachamama ("mother earth" in Quechua)) where we were surprised to find a young Belgian waitress who spoke to us in fluent English, the neighboring table in French, and another couple that entered in German. We would find out later that Lib (the waitress) was the girlfriend of the young Peruvian proprietor (Louie). Lib speaks 6 languages, and Louie had been a hiking expedition guide for 7 years before establishing what is unquestionably the hippest and friendliest hostel in Cabanaconde. The pizzas took a little while since their pizza cook had left for the festival, but it was such a friendly and welcoming atmosphere that we didn't mind just relaxing. At around 11:30 we returned to our hostel and enjoyed a very restful sleep (at least, until dawn when the parade, with its 30 trumpets, 30 baritones, and 20 drummers, resumed where they had left off the night before--directly outside our window).
The bus company we booked with was called Senior De Los Milagros (lord of miracles). Jen joked that she hoped their name didn't reflect their operating policy when a man at the front asked for everyone's attention while he prayed for the safety of our journey. Thankfully, he wasn't an official representative of the bus company, and this was only the opening ploy in his effort to sell children's instructional materials (books about physics and chemistry!) for a dollar a workbook. His 20-minute harangue was just one of several examples we would suffer of the refined rhetorical art of the hard sell. (My favorite part was his descriptive portrait of the scam artist, and how we could rest assured that he wasn't one--"I'm a just an ordinary guy like you all, telling you what I think").
Though the bus was full when we embarked, another 25 or so people got on at the first stop out of town, filling the center isle. Some of them had brought buckets to sit on, but many just stood or, (as the old woman next to me) elected to sit on another passenger's armrest. Every time we passed a toll booth, everyone in the center aisle ducked so the police couldn't see them from the road. Even though Jen and I are pretty sure this practice of overloading the buses is illegal, we are also sure it's universal, and more or less overlooked. To what extent this compromises safety is unclear. Since sunset is around 5:30 or 6, it was dark for most of our journey there. On the way back I only saw one overturned bus husk. In any case, about two hours outside of town the toll checkpoints stopped along with the paved road.
Around 7pm, we arrived at Chivay, where the only other tourists on the bus decided to get off because they “didn't have a place in Cabanaconda”, the even smaller end-of-the-line 2 hours away where, incidentally, we didn't have a place to stay either. As we waited to go, more and more locals crammed on board, causing the existing passengers to yell “esta lleno!” (it's full!) and “vamanos! Estamos hambre!” (let's go! we're hungry!). Jen and I started to get out our headphones to listen to music when the priest across the aisle advised us that we should be careful with our bags because "they would rob us". We were touched that he used the tu form with us for his warning. I reasoned that, taking confessions, he would probably know, so we discretely tucked our things away.
Two hours later, as we pulled into the narrow streets of Cabanaconde, we noticed somewhere between 50 and 100 squatting men lining either side of the bus, apparently waiting. Even the large cities we've been in shut down early, so the sight of so many people out in such a small town confused and somewhat unsettled us; something was definitely afoot and we had no idea what.
The bus unloaded in the small main plaza, where there was only a small crowd waiting for the bus. We bee-lined for the hostel, not 30 steps away, and secured what turned out to be a very lovely room for 20 soles. Five minutes after we'd settled in our hostel, the mystery of the waiting men resolved itself. We heard a cacophonous homophony of trumpets playing a sort-of bugle call. I captured a little bit of it from the hostel window (before we went out and joined them):
Apparently we had arrived at the beginning of a celebration of the town's founding that lasts 4 days. Though much smaller and less elaborate than the festival in Cusco, the musicians and townspeople more than made up for it in vigor and enthusiasm. As we watched from the center of the plaza, the parade and dancers made 4 or 5 laps around us since the town is so small there apparently isn't really anywhere else to parade to.
We had oven fired pizzas in a neighboring hostel (pachamama ("mother earth" in Quechua)) where we were surprised to find a young Belgian waitress who spoke to us in fluent English, the neighboring table in French, and another couple that entered in German. We would find out later that Lib (the waitress) was the girlfriend of the young Peruvian proprietor (Louie). Lib speaks 6 languages, and Louie had been a hiking expedition guide for 7 years before establishing what is unquestionably the hippest and friendliest hostel in Cabanaconde. The pizzas took a little while since their pizza cook had left for the festival, but it was such a friendly and welcoming atmosphere that we didn't mind just relaxing. At around 11:30 we returned to our hostel and enjoyed a very restful sleep (at least, until dawn when the parade, with its 30 trumpets, 30 baritones, and 20 drummers, resumed where they had left off the night before--directly outside our window).
Our time in Arequipa
Our 14-hour bus ride to Arequipa was _a lot_ more manageable than the 21-hour ride to Cusco. Plus, our 2nd-story front-seat view of the road ahead made it feel like we were flying (very very slowly) over the mountain roads.
Arequipa is know as “la ciudad blanca” (the white city) because so many of the buildings are made from a white volcanic stone that comes from the active volcano that overlooks the city. You can see the white stone in this representative shot of a street a few blocks from the Plaza de Armas.
Here is a shot of the active "El Misti" volcano we took on one of our walks. The large vase sculpture in the lower left is one we've seen in many places all over the city.
There are actually three mountains overlooking the city (I seem to remember our cab driver mentioning they were all volcanoes, but only El Misti is active). This is a shot of Jen reading two steps from the door of our room ($9 a night!) with a shot of one of the other mountains.
Of all the cities we've been in so far, Arequipa is our favorite. In our 45 minute walk out and around the city center, we passed through several beautiful parks and plazas.
The Plaza de Armas is almost as touristic as its counterpart in Cusco (though with far fewer and less aggressive hawkers), but outside its very limited area we got the feeling of being in a vibrant, colorful city with an active life of its own. Here's a shot of the Plaza de Armas, followed by a shot of another, smaller plaza about a 25 minute walk away.
We only spent a day and a half in Arequipa before going hiking in the Colca Canyon (more about this in the next post), but now we're back and have been spending a very relaxing 3 days here before our return to Lima. There's a wide variety of delicious and cheap restaurants and many short and beautiful walks to take from our hostel. It's been a great place to recover from the hike!
Sunday, July 12, 2009
A side note about photography (sort-of)
Here's a brief excerpt from one of my favorite short stories by Italo Calvino: The Adventure of a Photographer...
In any case, I hope you enjoy it!
"…Because once you’ve begun," he would preach, "there is no reason why you should stop. The line between the reality that is photographed because it seems beautiful to us and the reality that seems beautiful because it has been photographed is very narrow. If you take a picture of Pierluca because he’s building a sand castle, there is no reason not to take his picture while he’s crying because the castle has collapsed, and then while the nurse consoles him by helping him find a sea shell in the sand. The minute you start saying something, ‘Ah, how beautiful! We must photograph it!’ you are already close to the view of the person who thinks that everything that is not photographed is lost, as if it had never existed, and that therefore, in order really to live, you must photograph as much as you can, and to photograph as much as you can you must either live in the most photographable way possible, or else consider photographable every moment of your life. The first course leads to stupidity; the second to madness."
"You’re the one who’s mad and stupid," his friends would say to him, "and a pain in the ass, into the bargain."
It's a fantastic story which you can read in full here. I like it for the sheer variety and creativity of different ways of understanding photography it explores. I also like it for its over-the-top main character whose commitment to a misguided ideal of philosophical purity is a funny and sad example of "the examined life" run amok.In any case, I hope you enjoy it!
Zombie manaquins of Cusco
We have noticed many differences during our time here in Cusco.
Whenever you order ice cream, you get a spoon shaped like a small snow shovel. Cars don't yield to pedestrians when turning right; or really, at any other time when they can avoid it. There doesn't seem to be much stigma attached to openly peeing in the street. It's common for strangers to wish you "provecho!" (bon-appetite!) whenever they see you eating. A picture of a woman in a bikini could really be an advertisement for *anything*.
One of the more unsettling differences is the wide variety of stricken manaquins that lear silently from the many small shops south of the Plaza de Armas. Here is a short, but, we feel representative, photo gallery.
Cookout
A few days ago we met up with our friend Jenny's friend Manuel who lives in Cusco. I thought we were just going to have some coffee and chat, but Manuel was saying something about his friend and a party and cooking potatoes in the ground. We said, "Sounds good!" and we were off hiking accross the city to Oswaldo's house.
There were only a few people there when we arrived at what appeared to be a house still under construction with a beautiful vista across the city. We made ourselves comfortable in a narrow fenced-in yard space where there was a small oven-shaped earth construction with a roaring fire in it.
We talked happily for awhile as more people arrived and the earthen stones in the oven turned black. Eventually, Oswaldo collapsed the top of the oven with a stick, and started throwing in potatoes, plantanes, and chicken with fresh rosemary wrapped in foil.
Oswaldo shoveled more earth on top to seal in the heat as much as possible, while others started making fresh guacamole and salsas.
After about 15 or 20 minutes, we unearthed our dinner, and everyone dug in! There were several varieites of potato (including a somewhat sweet one I'm unfamiliar with), and everything was delicious!
Last Day in Cusco
Here is where we've been living for the last 2 weeks:
The two major up-sides to the room were its price and location. Right outside our door is a large, infrequently trafficked street with a lovely median that kids would use for all kinds of interesting activities. Every night on the way home we'd see dancers, skateboarders, or jugglers practicing. Here's a shot of some of some bikers right across the street from our house.
Last night, as we headed out for dinner, we found the street closed-off entirely with a small parade of elementary-school-aged kids with homemade lanterns.
The major down-side of the room was the maximum of 2-3 minutes of hot water a day. Perhaps we were showering at the wrong times, but that was all we could ever get.
So, for our last night in Cusco we decided to treat ourselves to a night in a more upscale hotel. The best way to describe their shower is the feeling of standing under a waterfall. The new room is a wonderful, large place, with a seemingly inexhaustible supply of hot water. After 30 minutes under the steaming falls, we feel thoroughly rejuvinated and ready for another 3 weeks of camping conditions (which is more or less what we're going to be doing in the Colca Canyon and the north of Peru).
Next time we write, we should be in Arequipa! Cheers everyone!
"Now I really feel complete"
Remember the piazza and hamburguesas van from a few posts ago? We had never seen it move from its spot next to our favorite cafe, until last night when we found it awake and operating two blocks down the street! (Selling, from what we could tell, only chicken)
As Jen said, "now I really feel complete; we can leave Cusco"
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Our hike out of the city
Greetings all!
Today we took a long hike out of the city. We're feeling pretty aclimatized by now, and the views were spectacular. Here are some photos.
Here is Jen about to set out from the Christo Blanco (which it's already a bit of a hike to get to). (This was the sweet photo to counterbalance the "tough" photo we had just taken (not pictured here)).
This is a shot (from the side) of the Sacsayhuamán ruins above the city. We had already read about these ruins in the book "The Last Days of the Incas", because one of the Incan emperors fled here to hide out from the Spanish. They were able to throw rocks to keep the Spanish away, but eventually they ran out of rocks and water and were captured.
On the edge of a small town above Cusco we saw this billboard. In case you can't read it, it appears to be advertising a public restoration project for this apparently barren field from 2004 that was scheduled to be completed in 90 days. Regardless of whether this was what they were aiming for, we thought it was nice.
As we continued out into the countryside, we walked through a small town rimming several large fields. To the left of the photo, there were people actively scorching some wheat fields, and behind us there was a large number of workers harvesting what looked like potatoes. Many of the workers stopped to wave and ask how we were doing, and a few tried to interest us in a horseback ride through the country. We're considering it.
Several more switch-backs up the road was this beautiful home, with this beautiful pig tied up across the street.
In addition to the pig, we also witnessed a sheep crossing further up.
The countryside surrounding the city is a patchwork of farmland and occasional houses. If you look at the large version of this next photo, you can see some of the terraces on the hillside.
We left the paved road and started walking along dirt roads and trails somewhere around here...
Here I am hiking through an anonymous field to get back to the road we spotted from the crest of a hill.
And Jen on the trail.
It was a great hike! Afterwards we enjoyed our favorite hole-in-the-wall vegetarian lunch, and had a recuperative coffee at Cafe Punchay. On the advice of our friend Manuel we also went to see the pre-Columbian art museum, but more on that another time.
Today we took a long hike out of the city. We're feeling pretty aclimatized by now, and the views were spectacular. Here are some photos.
Here is Jen about to set out from the Christo Blanco (which it's already a bit of a hike to get to). (This was the sweet photo to counterbalance the "tough" photo we had just taken (not pictured here)).
This is a shot (from the side) of the Sacsayhuamán ruins above the city. We had already read about these ruins in the book "The Last Days of the Incas", because one of the Incan emperors fled here to hide out from the Spanish. They were able to throw rocks to keep the Spanish away, but eventually they ran out of rocks and water and were captured.
On the edge of a small town above Cusco we saw this billboard. In case you can't read it, it appears to be advertising a public restoration project for this apparently barren field from 2004 that was scheduled to be completed in 90 days. Regardless of whether this was what they were aiming for, we thought it was nice.
As we continued out into the countryside, we walked through a small town rimming several large fields. To the left of the photo, there were people actively scorching some wheat fields, and behind us there was a large number of workers harvesting what looked like potatoes. Many of the workers stopped to wave and ask how we were doing, and a few tried to interest us in a horseback ride through the country. We're considering it.
Several more switch-backs up the road was this beautiful home, with this beautiful pig tied up across the street.
In addition to the pig, we also witnessed a sheep crossing further up.
The countryside surrounding the city is a patchwork of farmland and occasional houses. If you look at the large version of this next photo, you can see some of the terraces on the hillside.
We left the paved road and started walking along dirt roads and trails somewhere around here...
Here I am hiking through an anonymous field to get back to the road we spotted from the crest of a hill.
And Jen on the trail.
It was a great hike! Afterwards we enjoyed our favorite hole-in-the-wall vegetarian lunch, and had a recuperative coffee at Cafe Punchay. On the advice of our friend Manuel we also went to see the pre-Columbian art museum, but more on that another time.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)