Traveling solo

I knew something was wrong when walking up 10 stairs winded me and left me sweating and needing a break.  The  young Peruvian woman carrying a a full load of goods to sell up high, who passed me, asked if I was ok, assuming it was the altitude.  No, no, I responded.  Only a week or two ago, I was at 6,000m.  She looked at me dubiously, but passed on.

ruins in pisac

I pushed thoughts of sickness out of my head – not now, please not now.  I am visiting the sacred valley for just two days and then a trek, I thought to myself.  I racked my brain for what I could have eaten in the past few days that would make me sick.  I tried to think of others around me who were sick. Nothing came to my, no reason why I should be feeling this way.  I hadn’t even been eating street food (well, not that much!).

As I reached the top of the hill, I collapsed onto a rock (yeah, it was probably sacred, but I really needed a place to sit at that moment), coated in sweat  and shaking slightly.  What was wrong?  What was wrong?!   not now, please….

more pisac ruins

After taking a few pictures (to remind myself I had been there), I made my way down and caught a bus to Ollanta, the town where I planned to spend the night.

the ruins at pisac

After two bus rides and a conversation with a man on the bus (who told me that my spanish was good — whoa, he must not be used to gringas speaking spanish!) — I clumsily made my way to a hostal.  At that point, I was ready to collapse….

Fortunately, the first hostal had  a room at a good price (though I might have paid anything!).  Shivering, I crawled into bed with all my clothes on and prayed for sleep.  It was 3:30 in the afternoon.

17 hours later, following shivers, sick dreams and worries that I was really sick, I decided I had to get out of bed — at least to make it back to Cusco.  I tried a light breakfast, I did see the ruins in Ollanta and I did make it back to Cusco (though I skipped the ruins in Chincero in favor of more rest).

impressive ruins of Ollanta

But during those 17 hours, in between worries that I had the flu or worse, giardia,  I realized that no one knew where I was at that moment.  There I was, sweating it out in Ollanta, feeling like hell, and no one who loved and cared about me knew where I was at that moment.  No one was going to come in with chicken noodle soup (which I desperately wanted).

the view down into the impressive village of Ollanta (which has not changed much in 700 years!)

I have lived on my own for a number of years.  I have traveled, I have been independent (fiercely so at times), I have taken care of myself.  But, for the most part, people have known where I am.  People can get in touch with me.  I can get in touch with people.  I might live alone, but I am not alone.

Traveling solo, I have had a few moments like this — when I am acutely aware of how alone I am.    I love traveling solo.  I love the freedom of choosing where I want to go, when I want to go, how I want to go.  Traveling solo has given me the freedom to talk to strangers, to meet people and share dinner.  And also the time to spend with myself, to get a sense of what I want and where I am going (more on that in a week or so….).

But, there have also been these other moments, when I am sick or tired or scared….  when I feel utterly and totally alone.  When I cannot (due to lack of connectivity or sickness or distance) reach out to others around me.  Those are the tough moments.  Fortunately, there have only been a few of those.  But after I recover (which I seem to have now — fever and pain free!), I am always so happy to connect with friends and family – I have new appreciation for those connections.

old rocks, new flowers

I have not always made people my thing, opting for skiing or climbing, hiking or travel — by myself if need be, in order to get out and go!  But, one of the big lessons on this journey for me, has been to start making people my thing.  To start opening my world to those around me and, maybe not less to the things I want to do, but more sharing in the things I want to do.  Being in that room, 17 hours of utterly-alone-time, I know that I do not want that. 

So, here’s to Inca ruins and traveling solo and making people my thing!

and special thanks to C.P. for reminding me of that!

Land of the Incas

One of the delights of this year has been traveling in places where the history is OLD.  Where it is almost unfathomable how long stories have been passed down and how rich the history of the land is.  To be in places where everyone is tied together by a common past that roots them in their present.

woman overlooking Lake Titicaca

I sometimes feel lame coming from America (and don’t get me wrong, I love my country) as our history is not as long, not as old.  Sure, we all come from a deep, rich history – and we live in a land that has its own deep, rich history.  But we are not all united by ONE story, by one creation, one myth.

kids playing on the shore of lake titicaca

So, I love learning about the stories that unite other countries, other lands.  What I have found fascinating is the mixing of cultures through history.  For example, when I was in Ladakh, India (not this trip – but when I went with Sarah and Lindsay with Fund for Teachers), I found it fascinating how religions were combined.  When Buddhism took over the region, the people simply incorporated it into their own beliefs and mixed the two.  The same in India, as well as probably most of the world.

a cross on one of the hilltops on the island

of course I don't totally know what this represents, but since it was in front of a church -- it seemed to me to be "inca meets virgin mary'. but i could be wrong

Seeing the relics of the Incas is similar – where they took over from the Waris (the people before them) and then how the people here incorporated Christianity and their own Inca beliefs.  Whether it is the black Jesus in the church (because for Incas black was the color of purity) or the crosses on the hilltops of Isla del Sol (the birthplace of the Incas), there is an amazing mixing of cultures in order to keep the peace.

flowers left in front of a cross on the mirador in copacabana

pre-Inca temple on Isla del Sol (probably from 2000 A.D.)

Here is some of what I observed and learned in traveling to Copacabana, Isla del Sol and now in Cusco:

mountains from Lake Titicaca

• The incas were amazing stone masons – these walls?  No cement or mortar or whatever you call it between the stones.  They cut, measured and lined them up perfect. Impressive work.

the incas were quite the stone masons

• Lake Titicaca – though seemingly sounding like it means differently from what it actually means – it means Rock of the Puma – named after a rock that looks like a Puma, which is the birthplace of the Incas.

Inca trail across the ridge of Isla del Sol. I hiked the ridge line following this path.

• Many of the traditions of food, native plants, animals, and festivals are still practiced.  And many of them have just incorporated Christianity into the mix.  For instance, Carnival, which is celebrated throughout South America – is partly a festival of abundance (a la mardi gras) but it is also a festival based on traditional, Inca times (time of harvest, etc.).  Coming up is Santa Semana (easter week) – which is a big festival with lots of partying and has both Inca and Christian rituals.

this is an example of the blankets that the women use to carry everything from food to babies. This one was full of the native, traditional plant that grows in the highlands

terraced hillsides. Terraced since the Inca days

• Cusco is a beautiful city with 512 churches.  Each church was built over the site of an Incan temple.

Inca ruins from their administrative headquarters. This was where the highest Inca king ruled from (outside of Cusco)

• The math, the planning and the skill that went into the Inca buildings is pretty incredible.  For instance, their walls were built at an angle so they could withstand earthquakes.  They built irrigation systems that are still working today.  They moved HUGE rocks over great distances.  Pretty amazing stuff.

inca ruins with Cusco in the distance

I have enjoyed Cusco so far — mostly just walking around, sitting in the plazas.  I have a fruit stand I have gone to each day to buy my daily avocado.  I have had lots of conversations with locals (starting to be able to speak a bit more spanish — though it is a bit painful to listen to!).  People are warm, friendly and quick to smile (it could be because it is the most touristy city in South America!).

more flowers, more crosses

Tomorrow I am headed to the Sacred Valley for an overnight journey — a DIY – which I hope works out well (mostly tours around here for all the tourists) and then I will come back for two days in order to prepare for a 6-day trek, called Ausungate, which looks amazing.  Then, I hope to do another trek which will hopefully take me into Maccu Pichu, but that is still up in the air!

In any case — hope you enjoy the pictures and that you are well!

much love — AK

Where are all the Americans?

The other day on my bus ride to Copacabana, all the passengers had to sign in.  I was struck, glancing over the list, that I was the only American.  The list was full of Brits, Germans, Frenchies and, of course, many Israelis.

Over the past 7 months, I have met very few Americans.  Oh, sure, one or two here and there.  I have heard American accents once in a while.   But, by and large, Americans  are not traveling the world.  The hostels are full of young Euros and Israelis, and here in South America — other South Americans.  But no North Americans.

I find it curious.  Why aren’t we traveling?  Surely it is within our reach — well, other than our abysmal health care system that has the potential to cripple young people without insurance.  Oh, and those college loans that other young people from around the world do not have.  Ok — so other than those two details — why aren’t we traveling?  Sure, it can be expensive, but I am making it on 30$/day(mostly) and there are plenty of resources out there to make it happen.

Part of it, I think, is that we have so much in our own country.  I mean — I could a year (or more!) and travel to all the national parks in the US (and how awesome would that be?!  Add that one to the bucket list….).  I also wonder how many Americans I would meet if I was, say, backpacking through Europe?  Would it be different there?

Then, of course, there is the American mentality of work-work-work.  We work a lot.  Like – a lot a lot.  Maybe it is chasing the American dream.  Maybe it is to pay off the student loans.  Or maybe it is just to have health insurance.

But — all that got thrown out the window when I discovered the answer to my question:  Where are all the Americans?

In cusco.

They are all in Cusco.

I have been overwhelmed in the past few days by the number of Americans who are here.  Sure — it is the jumping off point for Maccu Pichu.  But….  there are pretty incredible places to see all around the world (how about the beaches of Southern India?  or the mountains of Nepal?  The temples of Thailand?  the list goes on and on…)

But, no, they are HERE.  So…  why here and not…. there?

I am not sure.  Perhaps it has something to do with safety?  We are fed, in the US, a steady stream of news about how the world reacts to us.  There can definitely be a feeling of… defensiveness, maybe?  If you were to watch the news or read the paper in the US — it is hard to not feel insular.  Tough to not feel that the world is not a friendly place.

But of course — nothing could be further from the truth.  Even in Vietnam, even in Bolivia — places where our governments have had… er… differing opinions, people are kind, generous and ready to help (even if they don’t smile much in Bolivia!).

I love that I have students who read this blog (as well as friends and family)  — and I hope that they view the world differently.  I hope that they go out there and check it all out and discover how great it is out here!

 

Change in Plans

Note to self….  if you are quoted a price, always make sure you ask if it is in dollars or in bolivianos or pesos or rupees or whatever currency you are currently using…..

Yeah….  the quote for the second climb – WAY out of my budget.  Like, out of the ballpark.

Unfortunately, I have been hanging out in La Paz waiting for the climb for two days.  And though it is a great city, I am so ready to get the hell out of dodge.

So, tomorrow, I will head to Copacabana on the shores of Lake Titicaca and then visit Isla del Sol before heading into Peru.

My time is quickly dwindling, which is very sad indeed.  For those of you who don’t know — I am leaving  South America on April 30th to fly to NY to then fly to Denver.

What???  you ask?  well…..

On day in Vietnam, on a whim, I applied to present at the National Expeditionary Learning Conference (http://elschools.org/) .  To my surprise, I was accepted, which will be a great experience — however, it meant cutting my trip short.  But — since I am returning to South America – to Ecuador — in July with a group of students, I figured I would be still getting 5 months in South America.

So — that means that I have just 5 weeks left….  which is a little mind-blowing to me.

Better start livin’ it up…..

Gettin’ my climb on

As I have told you all, Bolivia is the land of amazing geography — from salt flats, to one of the highest plateaus in the world to amazing mountain ranges, Bolivia seems to have it all.  Among mountaineers, Bolivia is well known for the Cordillera Real (the Royal Range) – home of some of the highest mountains in Bolivia, many of them over 6,000m.

the view up the glacier and the mountain

[side note for all my American readers -- I know that we are still stuck in the world of feet and inches and pounds and gallons, alone in the world, sticking to our guns... er, measurements.  But, as you probably also know -- the rest of the world has agreed to all use the same measurements, making it easy for everyone else to understand meters and celsius without needing to do quick math in their heads.  My tactic?  Just go with the crowd....]

In any case, if you know me, you know that I have a thing for mountains.  Especially the big snow covered variety.  And since every tour agency in La Paz offers a climb to Huayna Potosi, I decided to investigate.  Turns out that I could take a guided climb for 3 days and try for the summit, 6,088m.  I spent a while talking to one tour agency run by a Bolivian doctor who is also a climber (and starting some studies on high altitude health).  We had some fun talks about mountains and though he was quirky (to put it mildly), I felt pretty good about the agency and decided to sign on.  It took a few days for their to be a group for the day(s) I wanted, but finally it looked like it was a go as one other person signed up for the day I wanted to go!

 

Now, I have never done a guided climb before, being the guide myself or going with friends.  But, not having any firends here to go with, it makes it a whole lot harder to go climbing.  I tend to not love guided trips – as I do not like people waiting on me and I always want to help – which makes them uncomfortable (as that is not how it is done).  But, as one friend pointed out, how nice would it be to show up and have all the food already taken care of?  Good point.

on the way up the mountain (which is behind me in the clouds)

In any case, our group of 3 — Feliciano – our guide, Elad – an Israeli navy lieutenant traveling in South America for 4 months after his 7 years of service, and myself, headed up to the mountain.  Feliciano, who is 40, has been spending time in the mountains since he was 14 and has been a guide for 16 years.  He has climbed all the mountains in Bolivia, and most major peaks in Peru, Argentina and some in Ecuador.  We had fun talking about Aconcagua (he has climbed all the routes there — which is super impressive!)

Feliciano, Elad and I on the way down

The refugio we were staying at the first night was pretty close to La Paz — just 14 or so km from the city boundary.  After arriving and eating lunch, we headed up to the glacier for snow school — which was pretty much just learning how to use an ice axe, walk with crampons and play on the snow.  Technically, I probably did not need this day as walking in crampons is something I feel pretty confident with — but at the same time, it was nice to go out their with the guide and feel confident about their skills and their method of teaching.  And, I will always take a day to go play in the snow!

Elad and I after climbing school -- don't mind the krusty the clown look.....

In any case, before I bore you non-mountaineering-types with stories of snow and ice, the schedule was to get as much sleep as possible the first day and then to head up to the high camp the next day (which can take our guide close to 40-50 minutes, but took us about 3 hours – but more on that later), eat dinner there and then try and get a few hours of sleep before waking at midnight to head up to the summit (anywhere from 4-8 hours).

 

The walk to high camp was beautiful — though cloudy.  But we got some great views of the glacier, distant peaks and the valley below.  Plus Huayna Potosi is a beautiful mountain (see for yourself).

the summit is the peak on the right

I would not say that I am in the best shape of my life — exercise has been intermittent, coffee and brownies are indulged in on a regular basis (‘oh, just a little treat for myself’), Bolivia hasn’t been super kind to my digestive system and every hostel I stay in seems to have a gazillion smokers.  But, I tend to do well at altitude and my strength has always been in my ability to walk up hills for hours, albeit slowly.  This trip proved to be the same, and though I don’t feel like I am in the best shape ever, I am definitely more in shape in comparison to other tourists.  And when you are in a group, you know who’s speed you walk at……

front pointing.... up a very small hill. fun none-the-less

The high camp refugio was small, basically a shack with a kitchen — an upper and lower bunk where at least 12-18 could sleep (if you were really crowded in).  Us 3 showed up early, but then a group of 5 Israelis, 1 Dutch girl (the only other girl around), and their 3 guides showed up — making it a home for 12.  After an early dinner of ramen noodles and hot dogs ((I know you are jealous), we tried to go to sleep at 6:30 for our midnight wake-up call.  Between nerves (I am always nervous before a climb — just ask my climbing partner how I did the afternoon we spent staring at the west face of shasta before we climbed it!), listening to a roomful of snoring boys, and how hot a tiny shack can get with 12 bodies crammed into it — all I could do was rest my body as my watch registered the hours (and yes — I heard them all from 7 until 11, at which point I resigned myself to pulling an all-nighter - which of course lead me to try and remember the last time I pulled an all-nighter… but I digress).

 

Alpine starts are one of my favorite things about mountaineering.  I don’t know why, there is just something so cool about waking up before everyone else and heading up the mountain.  I love climbing in the dark – seeing the stars, faint outlines of the mountain before me and the sight of headlamps making their way up the mountain.  And the reward for that?  Seeing the sunrise from high up on the mountain.

sunrise on Huayna Potosi

This time was no different.    We started off at 1:40 (following a cluster in the refugio as tired folks struggled to put on harnesses, plastic boots, and crampons – new for most of them) with Feliciano leading us up the mountain, followed by Elad  and then myself.  Though the climb was really hard for Elad, I was really impressed with his ability to steadily keep moving.  Others (the other climbing party) were struggling — frequently throwing themselves to the ground desperately needing a break.  But Elad really pushed himself and kept moving.  Though we started at least half an hour after the other climbing teams (each rope team had two clients and one guide), we quickly caught up with them and leap-frogged with them for the rest of the climb.

 

It was a beautiful night, not a cloud in sight, fairly warm and no winds.  In other words, a perfect climbing night.  The snow was crisp, if just a bit sugary, and the climb was fairly straight forward.  We snaked past some gaping crevasses and climbed a pretty awesome 45 degree slope over a crevasse (front pointing is ALWAYS fun!).  The approach to the summit was steep and exposed, with the finally approach along the ridge to the small summit (that dropped off to the extremely steep west face).  It was probably one of the more exposed climbs I have done, which was fine on the ascent, a bit spookier on the descent (requiring full attention which is why I unfortunately do not have any pictures of it).

Cheesy grin after summitting

We arrived at the summit just in time for the sunrise, which did not fail to impress.  Mountains in all directions glowing from the rising sun and the pink clouds below us.  But, in mountaineering, the summit is just a small part of the journey, so we took some pictures (weak shots as there was not enough light) and then headed down in increasing day light.  I was astounded as we descended at how beautiful it was — Bolivia at that moment owning my heart (sorry Patagonia, India and Nepal).

horrible shot, but that is us on the summit

Our descent was fairly quick and involved some fun ‘skiing’ down some slopes (once we were past the glaciers) and we arrived back at the lower refugio in time for an early lunch and our ride back to La Paz.  My second highlight of the day?  Playing with the concinera (cook’s) daughter.  She was adorable, I only understood about a third of what she said (ok, make that 1/8th, so I just said ‘no se’ a lot), but we had so much fun playing outside!

was the summit the highlight of my day or playing with senorita?!

Feliciano, seeing my skills and knowing that I had climbed before, offered to guide me up other mountains if I wished.  We spoke last night (my first spanish conversation on the phone!) and then texted today and I decided to try for Illimani later this week.  It was a bit of a spur of the moment decision as he texted me saying I needed to decide quickly as he was headed back up the mountain with another group today.  There were plenty of reasons to say no (money, spending more time in La Paz since we cannot go until Friday, money and more money), but then again  — when will I get a chance to climb the second highest peak in Bolivia with a private guide?!

 

I’m a little nervous (when am I not?) as this peak is higher, a bit more technical and potentially longer.  But, I guess that is why I have a guide!  And, I’ll tell you what, it felt damn good to be up on a mountain again.   I remembered that my goal on this adventure was to climb and trek as much as possible — and so this seems to be a good way to achieve my goals!  So now, I am going to try and figure out how to entertain myself and not spend a lot of money for the next few days!

I took this picture 3 times trying to get myself pointing at the summit....

City Livin’

i love the pepsi sign in the background.... new and old

La Paz is a city of contradictions.

Peaceful protests, police in riot gear

Women in traditional dress, men dressed in handsome tailored suits

Young mothers working at street stalls nursing babies, business women conducting meetings on the phone as they rush by in their high heels

“Some people here call me a gringo, but i love country” – said the Bolivian doctor.

“Evo [morales, the first indigenous president here] showed us anyone could be president” — said the college student

Cobble steone streets, high rises, street stalls with traditional medicine

People for cocoa, people against it.  Farmers fighting for their rights, kids listening to hip-hop.

San Fransisco, the main cathedral and plaza in town

La Paz is liveable, diverse, and an interesting mix of new and old, indigenous and ‘gringo’.  There is an intensity here that I have not felt in other South American cities.  Maybe it has to do with being tabouthe capital city or maybe it has to do with the fact that Bolivians seem anything but apathetic.  Every morning, when I am out walking around, I see people lined up at the news paper stalls, reading the daily headlines.  Every day that I have been here, I have seen some sort of protest, some sort of street blockade.  One seemed to be against violence, another was in support of farmers, another was in support of cocoa growers (from what I understand an extremely powerful lobby).

one of many very cool cobblestone streets in La Paz

It is a pretty great city though — music, art, and other cultural events happening daily.  My ritual this week was to get a paper, sit in the Plaza San Fransisco (along with tons of other people and pigeons) and ‘read’ (as much as I could) the paper and people watch.  Oh, and I am now hooked on Suduko (well if you count buying 4 papers hooked).  Though i pretty much suck at it.  I have yet to finish one!  Dammit.

I drank too much coffee (and some really good coffee at that), ate too much street food, walked around a lot, saw enough art to fulfill my cultural needs for awhile and people watched a lot.  I met up with some CS’ers, went to a yoga class (yahoo!), and got lost in the back streets.  I went to dinner with the doctor who runs the climbing company that I am hiring for my climb (Huanya Potosi — see link below!) – who entertained me with stories of Che and living Bolivia in the 70s and mountaineering in Bolivia.

view from the San Fransisco mirador

And though I find La Paz interesting and liveable and fun to walk around, I am ready to get out of the city.  It is way too easy to spend too much money here and am ready for a new adventure.  So – I am headed out to climb Huayna Potosi, a peak just over 6,000m. that is close to La Paz (http://huayna-potosi.com/mountaineering.html#huayna).

I look forward to telling you all about it.  take care friends.

3-headed monster

I am used to being stared at.  Being a lone female traveling in Asia solicits stares like you wouldn’t believe.  There is no way for me to not stand out.  I look different.  Or when you are negotiating a busy street in Kathmandu with your friend and you are both carrying big backpacks.  You get stared at.  Or when you are the only white person, not to mention woman, on a bus in a rural area in India.  You get stared at.

I am pretty used to it at this point.

At first it bothered me.  Made me feel self-conscious and very aware of my actions.  But then I started to smile when they stared.  Or I said hello (or whatever the culturally appropriate greeting was).  But mostly I started to smile at the stare-ers.  And usually, it caught them off guard.  But, for the most part, I got a smile back.  Sometimes that smile started a conversation, sometimes it got me offers for food, got me a cup of chai, sometimes it got me invites to join their family.  But most frequently, I got a smile back.

South America is different.  Here, I get stared at, though I don’t think I look all that different (especially when I get asked if I am Argentine or Spanish).  Here, I get stared at, though I dress fairly conservatively (especially compared to the teenage girls).  Here, I get stared at, and I don’t get a smile in return.

I have been surprised.  I do not find the people here (so far in Bolivia and Argentina) to be all that warm and friendly.  They do not return smiles, instead, quickly averting their eyes (‘what, me?  No, I wasn’t looking at you.  no, not me.’).  Of course there are exceptions to the rule, but for the most part, my smiles fall on cold faces.

And it is hard.  It is hard to not take it personally.  It is hard to still feel open.  It is hard to feel compassionate and warmth towards the people here.  It is hard to keep smiling.

One of my goals on this journey was to open myself up to the world – to not let fear stop me from new experiences and new people.  To build bridges and not walls, something I sometimes struggle with.  I have been forced to build bridges along the way – to trust strangers and new friends.  To make allies where I can and to smile at strangers.  To laugh at myself and believe in the inherent goodness of others.

South America is testing me.  It is hard to remain open, to want to build bridges, to keep my guard down (and not build walls) and not cocoon myself.  The looks I get sometimes, the unfriendly, cold stares — sometimes I feel myself retreating back in — and I want to fight it, but at the same time, I want to protect myself.  Sometimes all I want is to go back to where I look different from everyone else – because at least there I got smiles.

and that is not to say that there were not cold looks in asia and there are people here who smile….

So, perhaps this is my test – to learn to stay open to the world, even if they are not open to me….  to remember that it is about me and how I present myself to the world – not about how others react to me.

Potosi and Sucre

i haven’t posted in awhile about my travels….

after the salar de uyuni tour, I was so toured out — all I wanted to do was sit and read and wander and drink coffee and NOT ride in a jeep, going from sight to sight.  So — that is pretty much what I have done for the past week.  I spent four days each in Potosi and Sucre, two cities in SW Bolivia.

Potosi is an old mining town — they have been mining the main mountain, Cerro Rico, for about 500 years — mostly silver.  The city sits at close to 4000m and has a working town feel to it.  Sucre is a university town, much lower in elevation (I think around 2600m), and feels young and vibrant.  It was definitely a contrasting experience being in both places.  My friend Stephanie said that Potosi is like the old man who has fallen from wealth, but still dresses the part and Sucre is the young, new money.

Here are my highlights (and lowlights):

Potosi

statue in Potosi - go mine that way

• eating ranga  stew in the market with the locals, which was mostly good other than texture.  We looked it up later, only to find out that ranga is intestine…

view up to Cerro Rico, the mountain they have been mining for 500 years

• heading out for a hike up Cerro Rico but instead finding a futbol game with the mining cooperative teams.  we were the only gringas in the crowd, solicited a lot of stares and were invited to drink beers with some very drunk miners.  This was on a sunday, their one day off a week

futbol in high potosi

• buying wine at one of the convents in town — in which you ring a bell, put your money on the lazy susan, and around comes your wine (which was pretty much overly sweet grape juice)
• Drinking said wine on a church mirador (look out) overlooking the city

not a great picture, but Benjamin, Stephanie and I drinking wine on the church roof

• being stuck in town for a city-wide protest — no transportation in/out — which pretty much felt like a party in town with people walking the streets
• staying in a gross, gross hostel and getting thrown-up on (well, being on the lower bunk when dude threw up on the upper bunk) — definitely the lowest-of-the-low of my hostel experiences….. (and no, it did not get on me but still…… I feel REALLY over 20-somethings and their partying)

Sucre

• Sucre is a beautiful, very livable city, full of white-washed churches, buildings and houses

style of many of the buildings in sucre

• Students of all ages everywhere!  Young, trendy, hip vibe to the city
• Visiting an indigenous art museum – highlighting the textiles made by all the different indigenous groups in Bolivia (if you are like me, you did not realize there are some many different indigenous groups living in Bolivia still)

view over sucre

• the faux-hawk is alive and well in Bolivia
• Running in the park — always my favorite thing to do in a city/country.  Running with (ok, having them run by me) futbol players, college and high school students, moms, and seeing other folks exercising in the early morning

plaza

• staying in yet another gross, dirty hostel (though I opted for my own room in said gross hostel) and being woken up at 3 in the morning (and again at 4 or later) by drunk 20-somethings partying on a friday night
• Visiting the park in the afternoon – it is THE place to be for families and teenagers.  Fooz-ball tables, popcorn, ice-cream, bikes you can rent, little motorized cars for kids to ride in, a guy in his car pulling a train around the park for the little kids, bouncy-houses.  you name it – it was there.
• eating avocados for days  (seriously, can you get sick if you eat that many avocados?)  The ladies in the market had so many, and so good, and so affordable (if that is all you are eating).

one of the churches in sucre

It was a good week – and I accomplished what I wanted (no set agenda, coffee shop time, reading, sitting, wandering, running).  Last night I took a 11 hour overnight bus to La Paz, where I am now, and treated myself to a fancy hostel (they have a midnight curfew!  that means no drunk brits shouting at the top of their lungs as they flirt with each other.  no offense to my british friends) that is clean and nice and the bathrooms aren’t scary and the kitchen is clean and useable and I have my own room – and, of course, a bit more expensive.  But, I will write more about La Paz as I get to know it.

For now, sending my love from 3660m! 

Home

Sometimes it is hard not being ‘home’, though the longer I am away, the more I think about what makes up a home.  Like other travelers, turtles that we are, we carry everything we need on our backs – moving from place to place, able to make that our home.  Whether it is the dirty hostel or the place I have treated myself to in La Paz (clean, quiet AND friendly – whoa!), I am able to make a bed my home city after city.

But sometimes, I miss ‘home’.  And maybe it is not home, as in a place, exactly – but it is being there for the important things.  Like a friend’s pregnancy, a new baby or a death in the family.

So, today, in my new home (for a few days) of La Paz, I will raise a drink for the father of my mentor who passed away this past week.  I have been thoroughly blessed in my life to have a series of amazing, kind, thoughtful and awesome mentors who have helped shape my life – both personally and professionally.  My mentor’s father, who I met at least a half dozen times, was also kind, thoughtful, and funny.  I always enjoyed meeting up with him.

Being a turtle, carrying my life on my back, allows me to see the world, learn from its people and experience what is our there.  which, my mentor helped me be ready for.  But, being a turtle, I am far away from the people I love.

I am thinking of you all.

Southwest Bolivia – Land of the Incredible

Southwest Bolivia – volcanoes, flamingos, llamas, salt flats, cactus, geysers.  It is hard to believe that it is all here.

I have spent the past week or so exploring SW Bolivia – including taking a 4 day jeep tour that allowed us to get into the Salar de Uyuni, one of the largest salt flats in the world.  It also took us past geysers, volcanoes, flamingos and lots and lots of open countryside.

sunrise yoga on the salar

Before the tour, I first spent a few days exploring Tupiza with its red rocks, cactus and high desert mountains.  It was great to get out and explore the landscape – I went for a few hikes, walked around town, bought the paper and tried to translate stories, went to the market for breakfast (cafe con leche and pasteles - basically fried dough) and ate saltenas (like empanadas but better — filled with meat, eggs, olives and other goodies!).

one of the canyons near tupiza

one of many cactus i took pictures of

cross on top of a mirador overlooking Tupiza, we climbed up there for the sunset (which was not epic)

The tour, though very expensive, allowed me to see parts of the southwest that would have been difficult to see otherwise.  I was in a group with 2 Italians, 1 French and myself.  Plus our driver and our cook.  It ended up being great.  The four of us got along great and the views were extraordinary, even with not great weather.

our group – me, Elisa, Tommy and Kevin

Our guide and cook with Elisa and I

Basically, we spent  the better part of 4 days in the jeep and we would get out and look at the ‘main’ sites.  Ed Abbey would hate it.  But, as I mentioned, it would be hard to get into these areas on my own unless I had own vehicle (note to self, next time I visit South America, it should be by bike or by vehicle!).   But, the sites are tourist sites because of how beautiful they are!

probably one of the more photographed rocks in the world

Our day would start with breakfast (mate or coffee and bread) and then we would pile into the jeep and head off.  Half way through the morning, Clemencia would pass back a snack (yogurt in a plastic sleeve or oreos), we would stop at various sites until it was time for lunch.  Then Clemencia would prepare lunch on the back of the jeep and we would eat more, pile into the jeep and head off for more sites.  We saw many many lagunas, llamas, flamingos and mountains.

llamas!

Flamencos at Laguna Colorado

During the afternoon, our jeep was pretty funny.  Chewing cocoa leaves is very common in Bolivia (in fact the president wants to export it).  Our driver and cook chewed it like it was going out of style – popping leaves into their mouths at a constant rate.  We all (Elisa, Tommy, Kevin and I) also had a bag and would ‘chew’ it as well.  Basically, you take a wad of leaves – chew them just slightly and then stuff them into your cheek.  So, there were times when none of us spoke and we all had big wads of coca in our mouths.  The cocoa leaves have a slightly bitter taste and are used medicinally here – good for altitude.  But they are used in teas and for chewing and you can buy them at every market.  The real connoisseurs  (which is every Bolivian) take something alkaline with it to enhance the effects.  Clemencia shared some with us and you can tell a difference.

Besides never seeing cactus and llamas and flamingos in the wild before, I had never seen geysers.  They weren’t epic like I have heard they are in Yellowstone, but they were still pretty amazing.  We got out of the jeep and were able to walk around — some were shooting steam into the air, others were piles of bubbling mud.  It was all pretty amazing!

geysers and bubbling mud

But the part that we were all waiting for was the salar — one of the largest and highest salt flats in the world.  I was pretty excited because we were there during the rainy season – which meant that the water on the salt flat would reflect the sky.  The pictures I had seen were pretty epic.  We went out there early in the morning hoping to see the sun rise, though it was a cloudy morning – though, I am not sure there is a bad day on the salar.

sunrise on the salar

salar de uyuni

Following the tour, I took a bus to Potosi – a town that sits at just under 4000m (close to 13,000 feet) and is well known for the silver mining operations.  One of the big tourist things to do here is to take a tour of the mines (and you can bring the miners gifts like dynamite, cigarettes, beer and cocoa leaves).  I am not sure if I will do it, but the town is quite beautiful (stay tuned for another titillating post!)

Take care friends — hope you enjoy the pictures!