After the madness of travelling we made it to Cuzco and found a beautiful little hostel up on a hill in the hippie, artsy side of town. Cuzco proved to be the most expensive, exploitative and touristed city that we have visited yet. Since we pretty much came to Cuzco early to acclimatize for our 9 day trek (on which we would be seeing tons of ruins) we decided to skip a lot of the really touristy (and therefore expensive) sights and do some serious relaxing. We visited a museum and an old inca site or two but mostly we played cribbage and rummy and snacked in various cafes all over town. I have never been harassed so much by people trying to sell you shit in my life, plus since we were in gringo world everyone could all of a sudden understand our english...it was kind of like taking a soundproof barrier away from our conversations.
But that was almost two weeks ago now, and since then we have trekked to Machu Picchu, which seems like a much more interesting topic for a blog.
The day before our trek we had a scheduled meeting. At the meeting we are introduced to our guide Felix and the two Australians, Pat and Kate. Felix speaks decent english, but Leif, Kelly and I kind of wish he would just explain in spanish, easier to understand. Felix shows us our route on the topo map and just looking at and talking about the plan makes us all start to get giddy with anticipation. During the meeting Kelly is kind of giving Pat a funny look.
¨Do you know Brendan so-and-so?¨ she asks him?
Turns out yes, he does and Kelly knows him from the semester she spent in Australia. Yet more proof that this world is really not as big as it seems.
Day 1:
The first morning we get picked up early by a minibus where we meet three more members of our crew. The cooks, Alfredo and Tigre are sitting in the back, quiet, mysterious and there is a new gringo in the front. His name is Eric and he is from Montreal, apparently he joined in on our trek the day before, last minute. It´s hard to say exactly what it was but Eric immediately rubbed me the wrong way, and I knew that only after a few hours he would be getting on all of our nerves. We pick up the Australians at their hotel and set off on a four hour drive to the town where we will start our trek from.
We get to the town and meet our muleteer, Zeus, he is all smiles and super friendly. Felix and Zeus escort us to a small shop where the cooks are preparing our first lunch. Felix tells us it will be about 45 minutes and that we should explore the town. He then disappears for a bit (which will become a trend on the trip) and drinks some chicha with his buddies.
So we spend some time wandering around the town, getting to know each other. The Aussies are environmental scientists who work for some big company in Western Australia. Eric is a civil engineer and a bicyclist, hates rain and cold weather. All of them are on much longer trips, travelling for almost a year each. We wander to a plaza and glance off into the snow-capped, cloud-enshrouded peaks that we will be heading into in just a few hours.
When we got back lunch was ready. As most of our meals would turn out to be, we got white rice, veggies and a bit of meat. Fried goodness, french fries. Let me just say that the food was spectacular from a backcountry perspective. As we are wrapping up our lunch Felix tells us the plan and gives us a little cultural story which will become a standard practice for meals. He tells us about Chicha, the fermented corn super drink that has a bit of alcohol as a kicker. He says that people used to put babies hands in it to make it sell fast. Then he tells us that underwear was usually soaking in the bottom of the barrel as well...to make it sell faster.
Okay, it is time to get going, so we introduce ourselves formally to the rest of the crew and they start packing our stuff up on the mules.
The hiking on the first day was not too intense, we hiked up a valley towards the epic range in the near distance. Took a break and then descended very rapidly down to the Apurimac river valley, the hike was about 5 hours total, but our knees were screaming by the time we got to the bottom...too much downhill. On the first day the difference in our hiking speeds became evident. And the trend would hold for the rest of the trip. Eric, listening to radiohead, was practically running down the trail, taking pictures every five minutes. Kelly, Leif and I were steadily hiking in the middle. And Kate and Pat were in the back, Kate had a bit of a bad knee...which unfortunately only got worse as we went along.
We made it down to our campsites...which were definately not what I think of as backcountry camping sites. The first one we passed had fully functioning bathrooms and showers, a caretaker and a room full of guinea pigs (probably for eating). The site we were staying at had a small field with papaya trees, a cornfield, a minibar, and some small huts. When we got there the tents were already set up (the muleteers haul ass to the campsites before all of us), and food was being prepared.
We had a good little stretch session in the field (apparently Kelly, Leif and I are the only ones who know the value of stretching after excercise) and had some dinner which is always preceded by a huge plate of popcorn and some crackers. Pat and Kate bust out some rum and cokes, we have a drink and pass out in our tents.
Day 2:
This is supposed to be the hardest day, Felix says we hike down to the river for about an hour and then pretty much straight up for about five. Kate´s knee is worse. On our descent Leif and Felix converse in spanish about various subjects ranging from basketball to drugs. Take a break at the roaring, I mean huge, river that has standing waves in it, and then head up the switchbacks. Again Eric is practically running up the hill, he seems to think that everything is a race and that he needs to win it. Leif and I are mobbing up too, sweating small streams, with Kelly shortly behind, and the Aussies way down with Felix. Leif and I have in depth conversations about the benefits and drawbacks of Port Townsend for the summer...talk about climbing.
Leif and I get to the spot where we are having lunch about an hour earlier than predicted, Eric is there ready to keep going. Kelly rolls in about 45 minutes after us, and then as we are finishing lunch Felix sits down and tells us where to go to get to our campsite.
This campsite is nestled above some old Incan terraces that are right on the edge of the cliff dropping 1500 meters down to the Apurimac. And right below the saddle that contains the old Incan refuge of Choquequirao. We have good weather and some time until dinner so Leif, Kelly and I decide to take the 45 minute hike up to the ruins. I am glad we did. Barely anyone there, the light just perfect, we can see down valleys in three directions. Spectacular, words cannot describe.
The reason I say I am glad we went to the ruins that night is because at some point while we were sleeping it started pouring and we pretty much had cloudy, slightly rainy days from then until we got to Machu Picchu.
At this campsite we were joined by several other groups camping, all doing it on their own, but only one french guy and a group of Argentinians were actually going on to Machu Picchu, the rest were just doing the four day up and back to Choquequirao. At dinner Felix gives us another little lecture/story.
Day 3:
We get up and have breakfast in the rain but by the time we make the hike up to the ruins it is reduced to a drizzle. Felix gives us a little tour of the premises and all of us are internally groaning from sore muscles, the day before kicked our asses, but today we just head down to another river for only a couple hours of hiking. We see a spot where the Incas tied mummies into the walls and would take them out to parade them around at holidays. There is a party (sacrifice?) field up on the near peak, epic views.
We trek up and over the edge of the ridge and the sun breaks out of the clouds bringing body drying heat into the valley. By the time we made it to the campsite the heat was more than just drying...Leif and I don swimming shorts, no shirt. Now we have the afternoon to relax, play cribbage, read.
Felix gives us a talk about orchids, hundreds and hundreds of orchids. Luckily we are doing this trek in the off season, which means more rain, however it also means wildflowers and less tourists. The valley in the busy season is all brown, dried out, for us it is green, lush, full of butterflies, flowers, birds, and wasps as long as your hand that could easily be mistaken for a small bird.
Day 4:
Clouds greet us for our second river crossing and steep ascent. Today is a similar hike to the second day, down, across a valley and up, up, up. At this point the French guy and the Argentinians are still camping with us, but one of the Argentinians seems to have a very badly injured knee, she can barely walk. And the French guy is carrying all of his gear, seems to be getting tired.
The stratification of the hikers is similar to the previous days. Eric runs off ahead, we are in the middle, and Kate is in the back with Pat, trying to take it easy on her knee. The river is large, and this one doesn't have a bridge, we will have to cross it. This is the Rio Blanco and if it had been raining a lot before our trek this crossing could have been impossible and would have forced us to take a different, not as cool trek. We, along with Alfredo, the cook, try to find a good way to cross, but in the end Leif just goes for it, almost slipping in his big mountaineering boots. Kelly and I take our shoes off and careful of every step, balance our way across.
Leif and I again mob our way up the hill, getting to the campsite just as the cooks and muleteers do. Eric apparently beat them, missed the campsite, went way too far ahead, and so was nowhere in sight. Tired, stretching in the drizzling rain, Leif and I wait for the others. Fog flirts with the ridge above us, tomorrow we will cross our first pass at 4130 meters.
That night Felix breaks out a box of wine at dinner and we celebrate another successful day of climbing. We talk about humming birds, they come in all sizes and we will get to see lots the next day.
Day 5:
Again we wake up to fog. During our ascent to the pass it is drizzling and the trail is pretty much just mud. As we get higher in elevation the cloud forest transitions to more desolate and rocky paramo. When we reach the pass it seems like the fog will burn off but as we descend down the other side it becomes apparent that it won´t. We are hiking just below the ridge on a trail that is cut out of the hill with an endless drop off to our left. I wish we could see, the view would have to be amazing. On our right there are small caves that are entrances to mines built in the early 1900s.
We drop a bit below the clouds and a village appears through the mist. We think we might have missed the turn off to our campsite so we turn around and head up a ways. After a obligitory pointless detour that we seem to always find ourselves taking, we get back on the orignal path and descend down to the village.
The community is perched in a valley above a raging river at the feet of grasping peaks. Stone walls wind through the houses containing sheep, cows, horses. We follow the trail and see Zeus´s brother beckoning to us. We follow him to our campsite which he explains is in the yard of his and Zeus´s house. This is their village. We relax while they head off to the river to catch trout for our dinner.
It is the equinox, we have champagne. It rains still.
Day 6:
Today we have the longest hike of the trip. We are hiking for around 9 hours, but this day is more gradual and we cross a pass at 4800 meters. We follow the river up the valley with small glimpses of glaciers visible through the clouds. We enter a flood plain and another hour up and we are at the pass. This is the first place where I actually felt cold, the wind and rain cut through my jacket and bit at my fingers. We hurried on, as we were rushing down the other side of the pass, I felt my first taste of altitude sickness (I think thats what it was), I felt nauseous and had to slow down.
We made it down from the cold and crossed another small river. Well, actually we just jumped over it. Descended into another valley and crossed another river on slightly sketchy logs piled on the rocks. The ecology changed again, we now saw what appeared to be blue berries everywhere, don´t worry, we didn´t eat them, that would be a stupid way to go. The valley bled into another community and we stopped at someone´s house for lunch. Children played with toy trucks and axes while defensive dogs chased butch roosters.
Another two hours of hiking and we met up with the popular alternative Machu Picchu trek called the Salkantay trail. As we arrived to the community where we would camp there was a league soccer game going on...in the Peruvian Andes. There are three nearby communities (well a couple hours hike each) and they have soccer teams. There is also a small store and we get some beers to celebrate. Felix introduces us to "Macho Tea" which is the local sugar cane liquer mixed with a bunch of fruitiness. This was the longest day and the end of the difficult trail. Now we just join up with the Salkantay trail, which is a piece of cake.
Day 7:
We start out on a five hour pretty much flat hike along the Salkantay river to the small community of La Playa where we will have lunch. Early on it seems like it is going to be a beautiful day, but after a few hours it is raining again on and off. Pretty much right when we get to La Playa it just starts dumping. About half way through this day we started hiking on a road anyways and we decide to take a minibus to a different campsite where we can visit some hotsprings. Of course we almost die on the minibus drive. The woman driving obviously has very little idea how to drive a stick or how to back up. Luckily Alfredo takes the wheel.
At this point we are officially back in civilization and I get stressed out again. We are camping in the yard of a half finished hostal. There is a small monkey jumping around, chirping and messing with our tents. We hang our stuff out to dry and hop in the bus to the hot springs.
The hot springs are amazing, not that hot, but gorgeous. We relax, eat pringles, drink a beer, chat about the last week, it is a good wind down from the hike.
When we get back to the campsite we get more beers and eat popcorn while dinner is being prepared. A huge bus with three Salkantay trek groups get off, loud, we don´t care, we´re louder. They leave anyways and head to the hot springs just as we are finishing dinner and starting a camp fire. We are joined by a guy named Mystic. He wears oversized wool, dreadlocks and a glazed facial expression. He gets a gourd of Chicha and tries to interest us in a San Pedro or Ayahuasca ceremony, hallucinogens that are supposed to connect you with the earth. Mystic is obviously a bit out there...he won´t even admit that these are drugs... We end up sitting around the fire late into the night enjoying each others company.
Day 8:
We spend the morning in a bus getting to the train station that leads up to Aguas Calientes (the small town at the base of Machu Picchu). The train doesn`t leave until the afternoon though, so we hike the two hours to the town. Along the hike it is evident that we are on the "eyebrow" of the jungle. Kelly and I see familiar palms, and other vegetation. Mealy Amazons and Oropendulas fly above us.
Aguas Calientes is similar to Cusco in that there are gingos everywhere and prices are ridiculously high. We have a pizza lunch and check out our riverside hotel. Kelly and I have a huge room with four beds over hanging the insanely large, fast flowing river. We shower after 8 days of not being able to only to put on our same smelly clothes. Coffee, ice cream, cribbage, and dinner. Then off early to bed so we can wake up early to get up to Machu Picchu.
Day 9:
It is 5:20 in the morning and the line of gringos waiting for buses to Machu Picchu is crazy. Probably 13 or 14 bus loads of people get sent up the hill. People are rushing through the gate to get in line for the Wayna Picchu hike (an hour hike up to a peak next to the city with some ruins and a great view). We are lucky we get near the front of the line and the weather finally clears up. Everything falls into place.
It is hard to describe the magnitude of Machu Picchu. Words fail me, it is beautiful. Well except for the thousands of tourists scrambling all over it. Tour guides everywhere. Must have been amazing to discover. Even though it was Machu Picchu it still kind of paled in comparison to the trek that took us there. It felt like a very ingenuine experience...everyone does it, these ruins and Aguas Calientes are not Peru, they are an isolated experience, they could be anywhere in the world.
After getting our fill we make our way back to the town, have some food and get on a train back to Cuzco.
Flight to Lima, night in Lima, flight to Guayaquil, 8 hours in a bus station, 9 hours on an overnight bus.
Now we are in Vilcabamba, livin it up at a cheap resort. Pool, Ping pong, hiking, delicious german food...what more could you ask for?
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Friday, March 13, 2009
31 Hours of Insanity
It´s a good thing Riobamba was so relaxing, because the leg our journey that followed was completely ridiculous...
We had initially planned on heading to Cuzco for two weeks (to embark on a 9-day trek) at the end of March. But in Baños we discovered that there were two more people who wanted to join the trek, if it could be moved up a bit. No problem. In Guaranda we discovered that this plan might fall through, so everything was up in the air. Once in Riobamba it seemed like it might be on again, if we could get to Cuzco on the 14th. After much fretting and rearranging of plans, the trek was back on for the 17th. Hoorah! Now we just had to get to Peru.
Option 1. Flying
This was the option we had hoped for all along. Getting to Cuzco requires first going to Lima, which is a long way away from Ecuador. Check a map. A direct bus from Guayaquil takes 24 hours. A 2 hour flight is preferable, hands down. Both guide books and online forums speak of magical cheap, frequent flights from Guayaquil to Lima. We could not find these flights. Online searches were useless. Flights from Guayaguil to Panama City to Lima?! Guayaquil to Santiago to Lima?! Round trip flights for thousands of dollars...Completely insane and unbelievably frustrating.
Option 2. Taking a bus
We did not want to take a bus. 24 hours on a bus sounds horrible. But the bus only costs $60 (one-way). We think about the positives: it would be direct, border crossing procedures would be taken care of, and we could see more of Peru! It wouldn´t be THAT bad, would it? Of course, there´s no way to book the bus online, and the website of the bus company has zero information about schedules or booking or anything. Our Lonely Planet book, as well as interenet forums, say buses leave daily at 2 pm. We decide to bite the bullet and take a bus. Perhaps we´ll fly back if it´s horrible.
Of course, getting to Guayaquil is the first step in this whole process, so Wedesday morning we depart on the 6 am bus. The Most Annoying Radio Program Ever blasts in our ears as the bus bumps along though construction. At one point we stop for about 20 minutes waiting for construction, but we remained in high spirits. We were on our way to Peru! 5 hours later we pulled into the Guayaquil bus terminal, which is really nice, and wander around looking for the Ormeño office. When we get to the office it is closed. Some people nearby direct us to go outside, so we do, and we are told that the bus only leaves at 11:30. It´s 11:45. While wondering what to do, we see the bus that we should be on drive by. It looks nice. We later find out that the bus on Thursday is booked, and that if we want to go on Friday we have to buy tickets now. A Friday bus would put us in Lima on Saturday, where we would probably have to spend the night and get a flight to Cuzco on Sunday. Sunday is too late. Impossible.
A taxi takes us to the airport, where a airline agent tells us he can only sell us expensive tickets, and that we should look online for cheaper deals. We spend time at the overpriced computer hub cursing in frustration until we finally find flights that are still to expensive, but not unbearably expensive. Having seemingly no other options, we buy the tickets out of exasperation. The flight leaves at 5:30. Oh, but wait, now we have to find a way to get to Cuzco! Searching for Cuzco flights is even more ridiculous. These are flights that shouldn´t be more than $75 each way, and we can´t find anything under $200 (one-way). One website has cheap flights, but when Leif goes to book them, it says they´re no longer available. The ticket agent says he can only sell us tickets for $400 round trip. What the hell is going on?!?! Time is running out to get through customs and security, so we give up and decide to try finding tickets in Lima. We go through security, find a little bar, split two beers between the three of us and watch a soccer game.
On a high note, the LAN flight that we took to Lima was the nicest plane I´ve EVER been on. I wish we were flying LAN back to the States...
My excitement over the nice plane ends in Lima, where upon arrival in the airport we immediately begin our search for tickets to Cuzco. A woman at one of the airline desks says she can sell us tickets for $180 round trip. Not horrible. But there are these other business-y looking guys who are checking prices on cell phones saying they can get us cheaper tickets. "Go ask," they say, "but we can get you cheaper tickets." They offer $140 round trip. They also seem a little shady. And they say we have to come to their office, which is 5 minutes away on foot. We spend some time discussing what to do--cheap tickets would be nice, but getting ripped off in some kind of shady scheme does not sound nice. The woman at the desk says those guys are there all the time. We hesitantly agree to go with them.
After 5 uneasy minutes of walking with all of our stuff through the dark, crowded streets of Lima, over a highway overpass and through a parking lot, we come to what does indeed appear to be a travel agency. It COULD be an elaborate hoax, but it looks an awful lot like a travel agency. We talk to a different man behind a desk, who is very nice, and tells us the cheapest tickets he can find for us are $171 round trip. $9 of savings. The flight leaves at 5:30 in the morning, which we prefer, so we book the tickets and feel even more uneasy as we hand over all of the cash that we have (credit cards are not accepted). The first guys escorts us back to the airport, and we immediately head to the counter to check in. Turns out the tickets are legit.
Rather than paying for a taxi to take us to a hostal, where we´ll sleep for 4 hours before hiring another taxi to take us back, we decide to spend the night in the airport. By the time we checked in it was 8ish, so we didn´t have THAT long to wait...we found some less-than-delicious food court fare and played cards for a while. Around midnight we cleared security and were delighted to find a quiet gate with seats without armrests. Not a bad spot to get a couple hours of sleep...
At 4:45 we board our flight. At 5:30 they said the flight was delayed. At 6:10 the flight was cancelled. We got of the plane. We got our luggage. We sat in the shapeless mass of people was supposed to be forming a line. For what? Nobody knew. Some amount of time later a girl told Mike we were waiting for new boarding passes for a 9:20 flight. If we didn´t get passes for that flight, we had to get in another line to get passes for a 9:25 flight. When an airline agent finally comes to the desk, everyone mobs forward, yelling. There is no order. The whole situation is stupid.
We, of course, do not get passes for the 9:20 flight, so we make our way back up to the check-in area to get in the new line. This new line that we get in is really just a line of the same people that were crowded down in the other "line". The people who have boarding passes need to check in their luggage. The people without passes (us) need to GET passes. The line is insanely long, and as we wait everyone just cuts up to the front, anyway. We are disgusted. The time approaches 9:00 and we are still in line. By the time we get to the ticket counter, we are last in line. Everyone else has been issued passes for the 9:20ish flights. We get tickets for 11:50. Whatever. At least now we can go find some coffee.
Miraculously, our flight from Lima leaves on time, and an hour later we land safely in Cuzco. We hire a ridiculously expensive taxi, which takes us to the hotel we´ve decided on. The book lists it a budget choice, but when we arrive we´re told that rooms cost $40 each. No way. In a sleepy daze, we wander the narrow, cobblestone streets of the San Blas neighborhood, and stumble into a hostal that fits our budget. We find food. We return to the hostal at 3:30 in the afternoon and pass out. We sleep for 17 hours.
We had initially planned on heading to Cuzco for two weeks (to embark on a 9-day trek) at the end of March. But in Baños we discovered that there were two more people who wanted to join the trek, if it could be moved up a bit. No problem. In Guaranda we discovered that this plan might fall through, so everything was up in the air. Once in Riobamba it seemed like it might be on again, if we could get to Cuzco on the 14th. After much fretting and rearranging of plans, the trek was back on for the 17th. Hoorah! Now we just had to get to Peru.
Option 1. Flying
This was the option we had hoped for all along. Getting to Cuzco requires first going to Lima, which is a long way away from Ecuador. Check a map. A direct bus from Guayaquil takes 24 hours. A 2 hour flight is preferable, hands down. Both guide books and online forums speak of magical cheap, frequent flights from Guayaquil to Lima. We could not find these flights. Online searches were useless. Flights from Guayaguil to Panama City to Lima?! Guayaquil to Santiago to Lima?! Round trip flights for thousands of dollars...Completely insane and unbelievably frustrating.
Option 2. Taking a bus
We did not want to take a bus. 24 hours on a bus sounds horrible. But the bus only costs $60 (one-way). We think about the positives: it would be direct, border crossing procedures would be taken care of, and we could see more of Peru! It wouldn´t be THAT bad, would it? Of course, there´s no way to book the bus online, and the website of the bus company has zero information about schedules or booking or anything. Our Lonely Planet book, as well as interenet forums, say buses leave daily at 2 pm. We decide to bite the bullet and take a bus. Perhaps we´ll fly back if it´s horrible.
Of course, getting to Guayaquil is the first step in this whole process, so Wedesday morning we depart on the 6 am bus. The Most Annoying Radio Program Ever blasts in our ears as the bus bumps along though construction. At one point we stop for about 20 minutes waiting for construction, but we remained in high spirits. We were on our way to Peru! 5 hours later we pulled into the Guayaquil bus terminal, which is really nice, and wander around looking for the Ormeño office. When we get to the office it is closed. Some people nearby direct us to go outside, so we do, and we are told that the bus only leaves at 11:30. It´s 11:45. While wondering what to do, we see the bus that we should be on drive by. It looks nice. We later find out that the bus on Thursday is booked, and that if we want to go on Friday we have to buy tickets now. A Friday bus would put us in Lima on Saturday, where we would probably have to spend the night and get a flight to Cuzco on Sunday. Sunday is too late. Impossible.
A taxi takes us to the airport, where a airline agent tells us he can only sell us expensive tickets, and that we should look online for cheaper deals. We spend time at the overpriced computer hub cursing in frustration until we finally find flights that are still to expensive, but not unbearably expensive. Having seemingly no other options, we buy the tickets out of exasperation. The flight leaves at 5:30. Oh, but wait, now we have to find a way to get to Cuzco! Searching for Cuzco flights is even more ridiculous. These are flights that shouldn´t be more than $75 each way, and we can´t find anything under $200 (one-way). One website has cheap flights, but when Leif goes to book them, it says they´re no longer available. The ticket agent says he can only sell us tickets for $400 round trip. What the hell is going on?!?! Time is running out to get through customs and security, so we give up and decide to try finding tickets in Lima. We go through security, find a little bar, split two beers between the three of us and watch a soccer game.
On a high note, the LAN flight that we took to Lima was the nicest plane I´ve EVER been on. I wish we were flying LAN back to the States...
My excitement over the nice plane ends in Lima, where upon arrival in the airport we immediately begin our search for tickets to Cuzco. A woman at one of the airline desks says she can sell us tickets for $180 round trip. Not horrible. But there are these other business-y looking guys who are checking prices on cell phones saying they can get us cheaper tickets. "Go ask," they say, "but we can get you cheaper tickets." They offer $140 round trip. They also seem a little shady. And they say we have to come to their office, which is 5 minutes away on foot. We spend some time discussing what to do--cheap tickets would be nice, but getting ripped off in some kind of shady scheme does not sound nice. The woman at the desk says those guys are there all the time. We hesitantly agree to go with them.
After 5 uneasy minutes of walking with all of our stuff through the dark, crowded streets of Lima, over a highway overpass and through a parking lot, we come to what does indeed appear to be a travel agency. It COULD be an elaborate hoax, but it looks an awful lot like a travel agency. We talk to a different man behind a desk, who is very nice, and tells us the cheapest tickets he can find for us are $171 round trip. $9 of savings. The flight leaves at 5:30 in the morning, which we prefer, so we book the tickets and feel even more uneasy as we hand over all of the cash that we have (credit cards are not accepted). The first guys escorts us back to the airport, and we immediately head to the counter to check in. Turns out the tickets are legit.
Rather than paying for a taxi to take us to a hostal, where we´ll sleep for 4 hours before hiring another taxi to take us back, we decide to spend the night in the airport. By the time we checked in it was 8ish, so we didn´t have THAT long to wait...we found some less-than-delicious food court fare and played cards for a while. Around midnight we cleared security and were delighted to find a quiet gate with seats without armrests. Not a bad spot to get a couple hours of sleep...
At 4:45 we board our flight. At 5:30 they said the flight was delayed. At 6:10 the flight was cancelled. We got of the plane. We got our luggage. We sat in the shapeless mass of people was supposed to be forming a line. For what? Nobody knew. Some amount of time later a girl told Mike we were waiting for new boarding passes for a 9:20 flight. If we didn´t get passes for that flight, we had to get in another line to get passes for a 9:25 flight. When an airline agent finally comes to the desk, everyone mobs forward, yelling. There is no order. The whole situation is stupid.
We, of course, do not get passes for the 9:20 flight, so we make our way back up to the check-in area to get in the new line. This new line that we get in is really just a line of the same people that were crowded down in the other "line". The people who have boarding passes need to check in their luggage. The people without passes (us) need to GET passes. The line is insanely long, and as we wait everyone just cuts up to the front, anyway. We are disgusted. The time approaches 9:00 and we are still in line. By the time we get to the ticket counter, we are last in line. Everyone else has been issued passes for the 9:20ish flights. We get tickets for 11:50. Whatever. At least now we can go find some coffee.
Miraculously, our flight from Lima leaves on time, and an hour later we land safely in Cuzco. We hire a ridiculously expensive taxi, which takes us to the hotel we´ve decided on. The book lists it a budget choice, but when we arrive we´re told that rooms cost $40 each. No way. In a sleepy daze, we wander the narrow, cobblestone streets of the San Blas neighborhood, and stumble into a hostal that fits our budget. We find food. We return to the hostal at 3:30 in the afternoon and pass out. We sleep for 17 hours.
Lazy Riobamba
The last time we (Mike) updated the blog, we were in the city of Guaranda, the capital of Bolivar Province. Turns out there´s not a whole lot to do in Guaranda, although we did procure some of the famous cheese and chocolate from nearby Salinas, which we unfortunately didn´t get a chance to visit. The chocolate was spectacular. The cheese was a little dissapointing. After spedning a ridiculous amount of time trying to find food to eat for breakfast on Sunday morning, we were fed up with Guaranda and headed out of town on the 2 hour bus to Riobamba.
The road from Guaranda rose steadily out of the green patchwork valleys and hills that the town is in nestled in, up into the shrubby Ecuadorian páramo, which looks an awful lot like parts of New Mexico. The highway skirted around Volcán Chimborazo, Ecuador´s highest peak and the furthest point from the center of the earth (due to the earth´s equatorial buldge). The mountain looked stunning, surrounded by the eerie páramo where we could see wild vicuñas (relateives of llamas) roaming around. Mike and I had been considering hiking to the climbing refuge at Chimborazo, but after considering the area we´d be hiking in (which was beautiful in a shrubby desert sort of way, but not particularly interesting) and the costs involved, we decided against it.
Upon our arrival in Riobamba, we took a taxi to the lovely Hostal Oasis, and then immediately set out to find lunch. Lonely Planet´s summary of Riobamba on a Sunday proved to be accurate:
"Riobamba is an important commercial center for the central highlands. Except on Sundays, when it seems you could easily starve searching for someplace to buy food..." The city was deserted. The wide, paved streets were populated by blowing sand and garbage, and the doors and windows on the grand, old buildings were boarded up. We wandered. We found Chinese food. We were happy. The evening was spent playing cards, talking to other travelers (more American´s than we´ve met, like, the whole trip), making chili, and being awed by novelty of television in English (CNN! Dangerous...).
Monday transformed the city completely, and we spent the morning dodging huge crowds of people and traffic as we wondered about. Much time was spent online, blogging, uploading photos, and fretting about travel plans. Generally speaking, our time in Riobamba was not partucularly exciting. We walked around a fair amout, bought and made food, played cards, hung around the lovely courtyard at the hostel, and watched football. Sometimes you need a vacation from being on vacation.
The road from Guaranda rose steadily out of the green patchwork valleys and hills that the town is in nestled in, up into the shrubby Ecuadorian páramo, which looks an awful lot like parts of New Mexico. The highway skirted around Volcán Chimborazo, Ecuador´s highest peak and the furthest point from the center of the earth (due to the earth´s equatorial buldge). The mountain looked stunning, surrounded by the eerie páramo where we could see wild vicuñas (relateives of llamas) roaming around. Mike and I had been considering hiking to the climbing refuge at Chimborazo, but after considering the area we´d be hiking in (which was beautiful in a shrubby desert sort of way, but not particularly interesting) and the costs involved, we decided against it.
Upon our arrival in Riobamba, we took a taxi to the lovely Hostal Oasis, and then immediately set out to find lunch. Lonely Planet´s summary of Riobamba on a Sunday proved to be accurate:
"Riobamba is an important commercial center for the central highlands. Except on Sundays, when it seems you could easily starve searching for someplace to buy food..." The city was deserted. The wide, paved streets were populated by blowing sand and garbage, and the doors and windows on the grand, old buildings were boarded up. We wandered. We found Chinese food. We were happy. The evening was spent playing cards, talking to other travelers (more American´s than we´ve met, like, the whole trip), making chili, and being awed by novelty of television in English (CNN! Dangerous...).
Monday transformed the city completely, and we spent the morning dodging huge crowds of people and traffic as we wondered about. Much time was spent online, blogging, uploading photos, and fretting about travel plans. Generally speaking, our time in Riobamba was not partucularly exciting. We walked around a fair amout, bought and made food, played cards, hung around the lovely courtyard at the hostel, and watched football. Sometimes you need a vacation from being on vacation.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Chugchilan (I´m surprised we made it alive)
As we waited on the bus to Chugchilan, moods already low because Leif had been robbed that morning, the ecuadorian highlanders filling up the seats, we wondered what the four hour ride had in store. The bus was rickety and our shit was tied to the top. Leif got kicked out of his seat and we spent quite some time trying to get a somber, silent, indiginous mother to let him have the seat he was assigned. As we ascended into the mountains towards the famous Quilotoa loop, we all tried to avoid nodding off...to avoid more robbery. The view was probably fantastic, but we could barely see the side of the road because of a thick fog, we passed the town of Quilotoa and started our descent to Chugchilan. This is how lonely planet describes the bus ride:
"After the turnoff to Laguna Quilotoa, the road turns to dirt, and the bumping begins. The road zigs and zags through 22km of breathtaking Andean scenery..."
But really it should say:
"After the turnoff to Laguna Quilatoa, the road turns to washed-out dried mud, with huge tire-engulfing ditches. Your overloaded, top-heavy bus will tip to near 45 degree angles and the back tires may stray halfway off the under cut edge of the road. Below you the road will give way to a fog soaked drop off, and it will zig and zig through 22km of lifetaking Andean scenery..."
Thats all I think I need to say about that, I'm glad we didn´t plummet to our deaths.
However we had a very refreshing ending to the evening, we found the Hostal Cloud Forest, which for 8 dollars a night including breakfast and dinner, with an honor system bar and dollar hamburgers all day, was one of the coolest hostals we´ve found yet.
There is tons of hiking to do around Chugchilan, so the first day we ventured up a road towards a ridge and a viewpoint. Along the path we were constantly watched and yelled at by sheep and pigs (I wanted to steal the babies, they were picturesquely cute). We made it up to a highpoint and in the midst of goats and cows we had a great 360 view. In the west was a sea of fog and it was evident that there was a lack of mountains, we were on the edge of the Andes. To the east was a spectacular sprawl of patchwork green rolling hills, valleys, canyons, houses with epic clouds moving west. We continued down to a small town and at around 11 AM the fog rolled in and our view was erased. We wandered around while children on a recess break shot holas at us. I tried to match holas but was no match for their numbers. We ate some tuna and white bread (no mayo to be found in Chugchilan) and proceded to get somewhat lost. We took a trail that thought would lead back to the hostal but we just ended up in mud on someone else´s property. When we made it out a man showed us where to go (even though we knew, it was the same trail we came in on) and told us that he was homeless and needed a house. Once out we bade him farewell and good luck and headed back to the hostal.
The hostal provided dinner, which all of the travellers ate together, so there was a mish mash of spanish, french, english and german as we chowed down our pizza. After dinner (and before, well actually anytime there was free time) we played cribbage, we played with a french canadian, a straight up frenchie and a german girl and our games were communicated in four languages.
The next day we took a camioneta up to the Laguna Quilotoa and hiked around the ridge of the volcanic lake, but not before taking the wrong trail again...we seem to always take half hour to hour detours unexpectedly. The lake was beautiful but not much in comparison to the Laguna Cuicocha that we hiked around near Otavalo. This lake is much smaller and doesn´t have islands in the middle. We made it around the lake with a stop for more tuna and white bread and started down a trail that would lead us through valleys, across a canyon and up back to our town. I think this was my favorite hike that we have taken yet. We had amazing weather, the fog held off till we got back and the views were something else. Plus we found mayonese in a tiny tienda along the way! Mayo makes everything that much better. AND we didn´t even get lost on the way back.
That night we bought a bottle of whisky and played some more crib. Although after a couple drinks I was dead tired and slept hard. The next day Kelly and I woke up for breakfast and relaxed waiting for Leif to join us. After a couple hours though, I was curious...did Leif leave in the middle of the night? What happened, usually he is up bright and early excited, yelling, threatening me, and taking fake jabs at my midsection. No, he didn´t leave, but he did get some kind of bug, so we took the day off and rested our muscles in the sun, and played cards like all day.
Which brings us to today. We woke up at 2:15 this morning to catch the only bus...a 3 AM bus, que tonto, and after about 9 hours of travel we made it to Guaranda a city in a province that has the best chocolate and cheese, Ween would love it. Our next few weeks are up in the air though as we figure out when we are going to Peru for the trek. We do know that tomorrow we will head to a town called Riobamba, and maybe go to the volcano Chimborazo.
"After the turnoff to Laguna Quilotoa, the road turns to dirt, and the bumping begins. The road zigs and zags through 22km of breathtaking Andean scenery..."
But really it should say:
"After the turnoff to Laguna Quilatoa, the road turns to washed-out dried mud, with huge tire-engulfing ditches. Your overloaded, top-heavy bus will tip to near 45 degree angles and the back tires may stray halfway off the under cut edge of the road. Below you the road will give way to a fog soaked drop off, and it will zig and zig through 22km of lifetaking Andean scenery..."
Thats all I think I need to say about that, I'm glad we didn´t plummet to our deaths.
However we had a very refreshing ending to the evening, we found the Hostal Cloud Forest, which for 8 dollars a night including breakfast and dinner, with an honor system bar and dollar hamburgers all day, was one of the coolest hostals we´ve found yet.
There is tons of hiking to do around Chugchilan, so the first day we ventured up a road towards a ridge and a viewpoint. Along the path we were constantly watched and yelled at by sheep and pigs (I wanted to steal the babies, they were picturesquely cute). We made it up to a highpoint and in the midst of goats and cows we had a great 360 view. In the west was a sea of fog and it was evident that there was a lack of mountains, we were on the edge of the Andes. To the east was a spectacular sprawl of patchwork green rolling hills, valleys, canyons, houses with epic clouds moving west. We continued down to a small town and at around 11 AM the fog rolled in and our view was erased. We wandered around while children on a recess break shot holas at us. I tried to match holas but was no match for their numbers. We ate some tuna and white bread (no mayo to be found in Chugchilan) and proceded to get somewhat lost. We took a trail that thought would lead back to the hostal but we just ended up in mud on someone else´s property. When we made it out a man showed us where to go (even though we knew, it was the same trail we came in on) and told us that he was homeless and needed a house. Once out we bade him farewell and good luck and headed back to the hostal.
The hostal provided dinner, which all of the travellers ate together, so there was a mish mash of spanish, french, english and german as we chowed down our pizza. After dinner (and before, well actually anytime there was free time) we played cribbage, we played with a french canadian, a straight up frenchie and a german girl and our games were communicated in four languages.
The next day we took a camioneta up to the Laguna Quilotoa and hiked around the ridge of the volcanic lake, but not before taking the wrong trail again...we seem to always take half hour to hour detours unexpectedly. The lake was beautiful but not much in comparison to the Laguna Cuicocha that we hiked around near Otavalo. This lake is much smaller and doesn´t have islands in the middle. We made it around the lake with a stop for more tuna and white bread and started down a trail that would lead us through valleys, across a canyon and up back to our town. I think this was my favorite hike that we have taken yet. We had amazing weather, the fog held off till we got back and the views were something else. Plus we found mayonese in a tiny tienda along the way! Mayo makes everything that much better. AND we didn´t even get lost on the way back.
That night we bought a bottle of whisky and played some more crib. Although after a couple drinks I was dead tired and slept hard. The next day Kelly and I woke up for breakfast and relaxed waiting for Leif to join us. After a couple hours though, I was curious...did Leif leave in the middle of the night? What happened, usually he is up bright and early excited, yelling, threatening me, and taking fake jabs at my midsection. No, he didn´t leave, but he did get some kind of bug, so we took the day off and rested our muscles in the sun, and played cards like all day.
Which brings us to today. We woke up at 2:15 this morning to catch the only bus...a 3 AM bus, que tonto, and after about 9 hours of travel we made it to Guaranda a city in a province that has the best chocolate and cheese, Ween would love it. Our next few weeks are up in the air though as we figure out when we are going to Peru for the trek. We do know that tomorrow we will head to a town called Riobamba, and maybe go to the volcano Chimborazo.
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