South America Journey

Home-Away-From-Home, Lima, Peru

2005-05-09T20:27:00.000-07:00

Diane: I wanted to spend our last week in Huaraz, including a 3-day trek around some gorgeous mountain range. But everybody else wanted to spend our last week in Lima. I gave in, but only after everyone understood that I would be using the computer the whole week.

I also insisted on trying out a new place to stay. In March, we stayed at the very-comfortable HomePeru, with free wireless access (from the living room and only when the signal was strong enough), comfy beds, friendly travelers from all over the world, comfy sofas in large shared sitting areas, a shared TV, and a shared kitchen (dirty dishes and all). What more could we ask for? Answer: our new home-away-from-home, the Guest House Marfil, which has all of the above and in addition a washing machine.

Ooh, aah, ...

We haven't been near a real, live, working washing machine since we left home, so Tom and the kids are practically keeling over from the life of luxury that is lapping at their feet. Now here I'm guessing, but it's not a stretch to imagine that every article of their clothing was dirty upon our arrival in Lima. I've gotten used to doing a little bit of washing each sunny day, so I do not share their open-mouthed feeling of awe. In addition to the washing machine, the Guest House Marfil has a kitchen which is always clean, a strong wireless signal from every room, a microwave, and walls painted full of color.

We arrived here the day before Mother's Day, and when I checked my email from the comforts of my own room, I found that I had already gotten a Mother's Day greeting post-dated to Mother's Day. Very clever.

The clock on our laptop is perpetually off. Every week or two, I change the time, which is in its own random fashion off by 3 hours, 11 hours, even a full day. The clock is evidently pegged to each account, because even after I change it in my account, the clock in TM's account can still be way off. I have been attributing the variety of timestamps that accompany the email in my inbox as an expected complication of the "erroneous clock". However, I just realized today that the erroneous clock is telling the correct time, but the timestamps on my email are still way off.

Interestingly, my email is always timestamped with a time that has not yet arrived. Another way to say this is that I only get mail from the future, not the past. My friends and family are letting me know some of their thoughts ahead of time. This is very considerate of them as it helps me respond appropriately to prevent dire catastrophes that may be lurking moments away on the time horizon. The first time I noticed the timestamp phenomenon was when I was trying to arrange an IM chat with one of Calliope's Florida Virtual School teachers. Although her email referenced "tomorrow", the timestamp on her email already was tomorrow. So which tomorrow was it, yesterday's tomorrow or today's tomorrow? At that point, mail from the future seemed more of a hassle than a powerful catastrophe-prevention tool. But that was just negative thinking; now I see its true potential.

Since I don't actually plan on doing any sight-seeing, important errands, or visiting family here in Lima, this may very well be my last blog entry from South America. I can unhesitatingly say that it has been a marvelous journey. Every new food, Spanish-language AHA, distinct point of view, amazing bit of history that has persevered, cultural idiosyncrasy, surreal landscape, and helping hand that we have had the pleasure to taste, disentangle, encounter, witness, be part of, view, and receive have made this trip extraordinary and memorable. Onward to Sarasota.

Day 3, Ocucaje Desert, Peru

2005-05-05T22:39:00.000-07:00

Diane: After perhaps 3 or 4 minutes looking for shark's teeth this morning, I am ready to call it a day. I have no interest in this obsession. Calliope's enthusiasm level has dropped even lower than mine; she has decided not to bother leaving the truck at all, until we are back in Ica. TM, on the opposite end of the spectrum, is lobbying hard to spend one or two more days here. I know Tom shares TM's desire, but he sees that Calliope would be miserable and he's not sure about me. Since Tom was in charge of the grocery shopping, we have enough food and water for a couple more days. We also have a flexible schedule; in fact we have no schedule for the next ten days.

I decide to spend the rest of my time walking the desert without looking for anything. I really do love the desert, so this sounds like a good time to me. At one of our stops, Calliope changes her mind about leaving the truck. She picks a soft, sandy spot and proceeds to sieve through the sand, finding at least a dozen tiny shark's teeth. Her day is improving.

But then TM makes the biggest find of the expedition this morning - a large megalodon tooth in excellent shape.

He spends no time gloating, because he wants to get back to the land and search every square inch of it. As with Tom's find from yesterday, Roberto feels that the tooth was meant for TM. I am very thankful for this find and this interpretation. Now we can return to Ica today flying high on the grand vibes of finding a large shark's tooth.

At our next few stops, I wander around noticing all the lumps, bumps, and up-and-coming skeletons. There must be so much out here that does not meet the eye, mostly because it is buried. Check out some of these uncovered bones.

They are so big. They are so well preserved. And they aren't surrounded by fences or hidden behind glass panes in a museum. We can sit next to them and play cards or have a family squabble. Not that we're doing that. We are looking for megalodon teeth in the general vicinity of whales. Because megalodon ate whales.

While in Arequipa, Tom and I stopped in the Peruvian/North-American Cultural Center. They had an open stack library, which is rare in this part of the world, so we spent some time in the periodicals section. There was an English-language archaeological magazine that caught Tom's eye. He found an article in which the author retells his account of accompanying some Peruvian huaqueros on a successful nighttime raid. It was eye-opening for us, even though the article was 2 or 3 years old. Since Roberto used to be a huaquero, he showed us how you determine the presence of a tomb and whether it holds bones or ceramic pieces. The laws of Peru are very interesting when it comes to archaeological finds. People have been looting tombs for centuries and selling their stolen loot to private collectors. Such activities are now illegal. But it is not illegal to own such articles. So the rich collectors have protected their investments, while the huaqueros (tomb robbers) continue their secret and lucrative digging.

The laws of Peru are also interesting when it comes to paleontological finds. Roberto showed us how to read the land to determine the most likely spots for fossils. He gave us some tips concerning spotting shark's teeth, once you were in an area with good potential.

You may be wondering what we are planning to do with the shark's teeth we have found. Isn't it illegal to take them out of Peru or at least unethical to remove them from the desert? The answer appears to be "No" and "No". As far as the legality, it is against the law to dig for shark's teeth. However, if they are lying on the ground in an area that is not a nature reserve, they are fair game. The Ocucaje desert is not a nature reserve, so we are safe on legal grounds. Moral grounds, as usual, are a bit trickier. Roberto says that after a shark's tooth has been exposed to the air for three months or more, they disintegrate entirely. So, if you just leave a shark's tooth in the desert, it will turn into so much dust in very short order. If you take it with you, you then have the ability to protect it from the harsh rays of the sun and the accompanying changes in humidity. You can also show them to others, sharing the wonder of ancient shark's teeth. We found many, many partially disintegrated shark's teeth that bore testimony to Roberto's view.

It was a windy day as are most days here. Tom took a picture of me looking like an inflatable pool accessory with the whipping wind filling out my clothes.

I took a picture of Tom decked out in his bandana face-covering to protect him from that same whipping wind.

On our way back to town, Roberto stopped by some very recent human remains. The clothing and nails were still discernable.

It was a reminder of just how harsh the desert is. If you run out of water or your car breaks down or your buddies abandon you, it is not "Hasta la vista, baby. It's more like "Adios amigo". I haven't mentioned the extra precautions Roberto has taken with his truck to make it desert-ready and desert-rugged. Suffice it to say that I wouldn't have gone so far into the desert without supreme confidence in both our guide and his vehicle.

Our last stop in the desert was a whale with its brains showing. I had a hard time believing that the translucent yellow rocks were once whale brains. Why didn't they just decompose into the orangeish-mustard dirt like the rest of the fleshy material? Why hadn't someone carted it off to a research lab to check the DNA? The cynic in me was and still is wary.

After some time deciding which shark's teeth to restore, we are luxuriating back in civilization's hold. Our tummy's are digesting a cooked meal and we have bathed away some of the grit and dust from the crevices in our skin. Tomorrow we will fill them with sand, for we will be sand boarding the enormous dunes surrounding our hostal in the oasis of Lago Huacachina.

Day 2, Ocucaje Desert, Peru

2005-05-04T22:38:00.000-07:00

Diane: We woke up to a layer of dew on all of our things. Roberto didn't care for it and said he had never seen so much moisture in the desert. The sun only took a few minutes to dry our gear, and we were off. The first stop today was a beautifully preserved whale's mouth.

Now that's what I'm here for.

The megalodon shark was the most notorious of its kind. Their huge teeth are reported to have been as large as 8 inches in height. Now that's what Tom's here for. The teeth are very similar to those of the current day great white shark. The body of the megalodon, however, was much larger - estimated to reach up to 50 feet long, about three times the size of the great white. They also disappeared off the face of the earth about 2 million years ago. We drove deep into the desert today hunting the megalodon's long lost teeth.

I found a few small Mako shark teeth today, but I wasn't drawn to them. I could easily have left them where I found them. Tom, on the other hand, found a large megalodon shark's tooth at the end of the day. Roberto felt strongly that Tom was meant to find this tooth. There were no other teeth in the area and Roberto had chosen a different area to walk, missing the tooth entirely. Roberto has the well-honed ability to spot shark's teeth from many feet away, while driving in his truck. So, he doesn't generally "miss" a tooth. In any event, Tom was absolutely ecstatic and I think he could have gone on all night looking for more teeth.

Instead we set up camp, which was only slightly more complicated today. It was quite hot and I had had quite enough of fossil hunting and dust in my face, so the first thing out of the truck was the canopy. This was followed by the lawn chairs, which were set up in the shade of the canopy. Now that camp was set, I took a look around and saw clearly that we were just a few specks in the face of all this desert (look closely to see our truck and canopy).

Having washed my face, downed some juice, and found a nice spot in the shade, I curled up with my book and a jar of peanut butter. After a bit, I set my book down and speculated on the history of this place. Long ago, I could imagine that high above me would be the ocean's surface. Although our traveling elevation is somewhere in the vicinity of 400 meters above sea level, this used to be the ocean floor. Due to tectonic plates bumping up against each other about 12 million years ago, the land here has been shoved up and bent at odd angles.

Tom, TM, and Roberto were still out walking these odd angles hoping for more great desert treasure. My thoughts took a jagged turn. Imagine this was gold we were all after and there was a multitude out here with us, all desperately searching for the same thing. Those same strong urges that have propelled Tom and TM to continue their search in the mid-afternoon sun would have resulted in a lot of unmarked graves. Here in Peru, it would have attracted the attention of the Spanish Conquistadors, who killed and exploited the people already here. I went back to my book.

Once the sun neared the horizon, I decided to explore the area. It was extraordinarily windy and I was thankful that Roberto knew the ins and outs of finding a camping spot pretty much out of the wind. I spotted a plant. A cluster of plants really. They seemed to grow similar to spider plants and they were covered in a thick layer of dust.

We had a twinkling night sky totally filled with stars. The kids looked for shooting stars. The desert at night puts me in a reverie.

Day1, Ocucaje Desert, Peru

2005-05-03T22:36:00.000-07:00

Diane: I called the Desert Man, Roberto Penny Cabrera, from the Flores bus station as soon as we arrived in Ica. This turned out to be both a good decision and a bad decision.

It was a bad decision, because the bus station was teeming with noisy people, located on a loud road. Although I am proficient enough with Spanish to handle a simple phone conversation, the ambient noise drowned out any possibility of hearing what the man on the other end of the phone line was trying to say to me. About 5 feet away from the telephone, sat the bathroom custodian looking a bit bored. When I asked him to help me out on the phone, he jumped up, grabbed the phone, and determined that the Desert Man was indeed there and gave me his address.

It was a good decision, because the timing couldn't have been more perfect. Although I didn't know it when I arrived, the Desert Man had just returned from a trip out into the desert and was sitting at the next table sharing a hearty meal with his clients. He had upcoming trips planned, but enough time to squeeze us in. We met up with him again that evening to look at some of the desert artifacts he keeps in his home - some fossils, maps, shark's teeth, etc. Roberto puts his clients into one of two general categories - paleontologist/scientist or tourist. The paleontologists generally have a good idea of what they are looking for and what they need from Roberto. The tourists, on the other hand, aren't always so sure, so Roberto gives them some idea of the geology behind the desert, the distances involved, shows photos, and then gauges their reactions. That is how we ended up in his home.

Roberto's home spoke a bit to his family's history, Ica's history, and perhaps the history of South America in general. It was a colonial mansion on the central plaza. The fancy exterior belied the almost total lack of ornamentation or furniture of any kind immediately inside the entryway and interior patio area. The rooms were large with high ceilings, harking back to the family's wealthy days. One of Roberto's ancestors was a founder of Ica. At one time, the family had a museum, which the government took away from them, ostensibly for the public good. Today nothing remains of the museum; the individual pieces are now in unknown private hands.

Roberto has spent some time in the military. After that he worked for mining companies. And his occupation that most closely resembles what he does now was that of huaquero (tomb robber). Now, he looks like he fits in the desert.

Our first stop was a cemetery in the village of Ocucaje. Roberto pointed out the wall of the graves of newborns and toddlers. The numbers were staggeringly high for such a small town. And then he pointed out that the numbers dropped off to almost nothing in the 90’s. This was when President Fujimori was in power. He actually went about the task of setting up health centers with doctors in every city, town, and village in Peru. This is not to say that he wasn’t corrupt; just that he did something in addition to steal money. The deaths were back up in the 2000’s, once he was out of power. Roberto held that he would make a good president again, even if he had have to govern from jail.

Our first stop in the desert was a well-preserved whale, whose remains are being slowly uncovered by the process of erosion in the desert. We could see the spinal column quite clearly.

Although Tom came to the desert intent on finding shark's teeth, I came to see a bit of marine and geological history. As Roberto explained it, this part of the desert was once an ancient bay. In the rocky and hilly areas we traverse, it's hard to imagine a bay here, but the wide open sandy/pebbly expanses provide fodder for the imagination.

The largest, fiercest marine predators ever known to exist swam freely in this area. The bones of the whale we saw today are bleached-white and interspersed with an orangeish-mustard soil, the result of decomposition of its fleshy, organic material. The orangeish-mustard color is a good indicator, when searching for fossils.

At this point in geological history, the primary force of erosion here is the wind, since it pretty much doesn't rain here and there are no rivers. So the wind blows away the sand, leaving small bumps in a layer of sediment.

Or bones start to reveal themselves amongst the pebbles.

Over time, more and more of the animal remains are exposed, revealing skeletons, decomposed flesh, and shark's teeth. The wind also blows sand leaving unending panoramas of partially-exposed, visually-appealing rock formations. These formations may have been the result of erosion caused by ancient water channels.

Layers of sedimentary rock are everywhere, the remains of shells and bones built up over time.

We are surrounded by a huge variety of landscapes, yet none of them include vegetation or animal life as far as I can tell without a microscope.

We set up camp, which consists of taking the lawn chairs off the roof of the pickup and setting them up around the fire pit.
DONE.
Tents aren't needed here in such an arid area. The sleeping bags come out only as the desert cools down. Roberto starts a fire by dousing a couple of blocks of wood with kerosene, spraying them with fire starter, and lighting them with a lighter.
DONE.

The kids are totally dazzled, having only been exposed to the more environmentally-friendly and arduous back-country methods of starting fires. For us that means scavenging for firewood, building tenuous structures made of different size branches, fanning the small flames, and gradually feeding the fire larger pieces of wood as it grows. I was dazzled by the really cool, dense piece of wood that burned in glorious patterns for most of the evening.

Although Roberto appears to live on jerky and Coca Cola in the desert, he did break out some canned food for dinner. He doesn't believe in cooking in the desert, not based on high moral principles, but based on his experience that many people get sick, when they accidentally eat calcium carbonate that blows into their food as they cook it (Tom says its the magnesium sulfate, but I suppose it just boils down the desert dust). Now here we are in 100% agreement, albeit for different reasons. I never cook, when I camp - too much prep-time, clean-up, and additional gear to tote around. Tonight the kids learn how to heat canned beans over a fire. I make sandwiches. According to Roberto, the adventure starts tomorrow.

Nasca Lines & Colca Canyon, Peru

2005-05-02T11:42:00.000-07:00

Diane: Watching condors fly over a beautiful Peruvian canyon after enduring a bumpy 6-hour bus ride to be followed by a bumpy 6-hour return bus ride did not strike me as a pleasurable way to spend my time. Unfortunately it did strike Tom and boatloads of other travelers that way. Tom and I came to a compromise in that we would spend at least 2 nights in the canyon, if we were to go. I was hoping that perhaps we would do an overnight backpacking trip down into the canyon. Or maybe spend a day at one of the hot springs in the area.

The results are now in. Condors fly nicely in their native habitat.

The hot springs at the Colca Lodge were luxurious, although I could get neither Tom nor TM to join us for this night-time foray. We were told that you couldn't get to the Lodge from Yanque, the town closest to the Lodge. Then we were told it was not walkable. Then we were told that it was exhorbitantly expensive. Then we were told that you couldn't drive there from here. This information all came from different people, who genuinely had our best interests at heart.

This is so common in Peru that I've gotten used to asking different people the same question over and over, until I get the answer I want to hear or until I get close enough to be able to figure it out myself. This is not my usual mode of operation, but I have adapted. I remember when we first got to Peru, we were in a small town looking for the largest straw hat in the world. When I say small town, I mean a population in the hundreds, if you count the recently dead. We had no trouble finding the town, but once we got there, the local people sent us from one side of town to the other and back again. We must have asked at least 10 people, before we found it. I don't know why this was, but I do know that it was not due to a communication gap, since we were riding with a Peruvian who lived less than an hour away.

Given this history, Calliope and I eventually headed out on our own on foot in search of the hot springs. It was a bit of a challenge finding the route, ending in some narrow footpaths on a very steep incline. But the pools of varying temperatures overlooking a beautiful river and a clear night sky with a path lit by gas lamps made for a great adventure.

That was a couple of days ago. In the wee hours this morning, we arrived in Nasca. Nasca is another extraordinarily popular tourist destination in which I had no interest. From the air, you can see what look like stylized drawings of various animals. There has been a lot of speculation about aliens and UFO's over the years. In my opinion, once you've seen photos, there is no need to actually fly over them in an airplane. Tom and I struck up another compromise. If we could get in and out of Nasca on our way to our next destination, without staying overnight, I was game. So, off we went.

Calliope enjoyed sitting up with the pilot

Once up in the plane, you could really see just how dry this area is and that rivers used to flow here. You could also see just how big these "drawings" are by comparing them to the dry river beds and current roads in the area. From an airplane, the drawings are very obvious; unfortunately, it may be hard to pick them out in photos with low resolution. There was a spider,

a hummingbird,

a compass,

and a monkey

amongst others.

Arequipa, Peru

2005-04-27T22:32:00.000-07:00

Diane: As soon as we arrived in the center of Arequipa, I could tell that we would be comfortable here. Since Tom needs to fully recover from his sinus infection and Calliope seems to have contracted another full-blown case of tonsillitis, I decided to find accommodations that we would really enjoy. The rest of the family waited patiently, and then expectantly, and then worriedly as I tracked down the perfect-for-us Colonial House Inn. After a round of complaints, I was inundated with gratitude at this wonderful find.

It is made from sillar, the white volcanic stone from which the majority of the buildings here are made, including the elaborate archways and facades of the finer mansions and churches. The walls of our room are about a meter thick, maybe thicker. The rounded ceiling has a small opening to light the interior. As the sky brightens early in the morning, it shines on my bed. As the hours of the day go by, each area of the room brightens as the light reaches there. We also have glaring fluorescent lights, when natural light is insufficient. Our window looks out on the interior courtyard, which even has a fig tree with some mature fruit hanging from it. Upstairs, the rooftop dining area is surrounded by potted plants. There is an exchange library of English-language books and common areas where the kids can watch TV, cook, do laundry, etc.

Our first meal in Arequipa was in a restaurant that appeared to be the exact same dimensions as our room, made from sillar with rounded ceiling, just as our room is. At first I thought it was the stock size of all sillar rooms in Arequipa. As it turns out, many rooms are long and low to the ground to prevent earthquake damage.

Having now visited a couple of universities and cultural centers made of the lovely sillar, I can say that no building quite captures the heart and soul of this architectural style as the Santa Catalina convent. We took a family outing there today, to visit the city within the city center of Arequipa. It was a cloistered convent for 400 years, until 1985, housing daughters from many wealthy families. Since 1985, the remaining nuns have been half-cloistered. The buildings have sustained significant earthquake damage over the years, but most were restored in the 1980's, and the nuns now live off the convent entry fees. The sillar is everywhere as are the cobblestone/river-rock streets and lovely archways that lead from one tranquil space to the next.

The woodwork on the doors as well as the solid columns both add to the safe and solid feel of the place.

Even the roof lines are lovely. You can see where rainwater would come off the rooftops. There are well-organized stone gutters running in the streets as well to catch this falling water.

This was not a communitarian convent. I'd estimate that we saw at least 50 kitchens. Each kitchen had been well-used as evidenced by the grimy black ceilings.

A couple of centuries ago, after a visit from the archbishop, an order came down to limit each nun to one servant. This order met with such disapproval and organized resistance, that the final result was the resignation of the archbishop.

The only reason our room at the Colonial House Inn is not as tranquil as the convent is that WE are living there. Once we leave, it should take on the same serene air we encountered at the convent. Until that time, only the ceiling truly reflects the spirit of our room.

Day 3, Salar de Uyuni Tour, Bolivia & Chile

2005-04-22T14:41:00.000-07:00

Diane: Although the shortest day of the tour, it was the most visually exciting for me. We headed out at 6:30 a.m. and headed straight for the fumaroles and mudpots. They were exceptional and we could walk around as well as right up through the center of this volcanic activity. At first, the very land we were walking on was shrouded in the steam of the fumaroles. It was hard to keep track of Calliope, my walking companion

Some of the mudpots contained muddy water; others contained watery mud; and yet others, had hardened up entirely. The subdued gurgling and popping belied the extreme heat and danger at the edge of our shoes.

Every view held its own attraction.

As the sun rose, the steam and bubbling mud, danced in the light of a new day. The mineral and sulphur smells only added another sensation to the mix.

From the bubbling mud and steam, we continued to some nearby hot springs, translated in one of our brochures as the "thermal bathrooms". We have come across hundreds of humorous English translations during our travels. It makes me wonder about all the funny things I must be saying in Spanish. For the most part, nobody corrects me, so I'm sure I add a bit of internal merriment to those I interact with each day. Wearing my long underwear, heavy sweats, and warm hat and looking at a pool with water at a mere 85 degrees, I didn't dare venture into these hot springs. So, we headed off to San Pedro de Atacama, Chile.

We would have taken the bus back up to Peru tonight, but it was full, so we'll head out tomorrow. Since we now have an extra day on our hands, I thought we might go to the Moon Valley (Valle de la Luna) tomorrow. This is the third Moon Valley we've come across in the past week or so and I hear it offers up panoramas that are markedly different from those on our LandCruiser tour. Speaking of our tour, I decided to complain to Colque Tours about our guide who hadn't provided us with breakfast or lunch today. After a short discussion, the owner of the agency offered us free tours to the Moon Valley - I like these guys! Since we are here an extra day, I am also trying to make an adjustment to the Chilean currency - 565 Chilean pesos to the dollar. Everything costs thousands of pesos, which makes me jump at first when I read a menu or calculate bus fares.

Day 2, Salar de Uyuni Tour, Bolivia

2005-04-21T14:40:00.000-07:00

Diane: Last night, my Land-Rover-mates hit the hay fairly early. Another group could be heard laughing in the dining room. And another group was singing old Beatle songs accompanied by a guitar. I decided to join the singers. They welcomed me with rum and coke. A couple of the young men took turns playing the guitar. The young women would then join in singing, if they knew the song. The point of playing the guitar seemed to be to get the women to join in singing. Eventually all the women, except for me, headed off to bed singly and in pairs. At this point, the men showed off their guitar-playing prowess to one another. A couple of the guys were from Argentina and spoke Spanish as their first language. As the motivating force behind the evening, I slowly realized that they were vexed as to how to stay involved with the women who were already trying to sleep in the adjacent rooms. Finally they hit on the idea of serenading one of the rooms filled with women with the song "Hotel California" - a song that everyone would know. They invited me. And so for the first time ever, I participated in a night-time serenade.

The women, who weren't quite asleep, but were still a bit groggy, slowly realized what was going on, grabbed their cameras and started snapping flash photos through their darkened window. This added additional fuel to the fire of the serenaders. We were stars for the only-somewhat-dressed paparazzi. Of course, we were loud enough that I'm sure we woke the entire hostel.

Only upon subsequent reflection did I fully realize that these Argentinian men had probably spent the whole evening wooing these primarily European women. Between their rum-and-cokes, their guitar playing, sharing of cultures, friendly conversation, and serenading, their whole evening was a bit of a hunting game. I was entirely off the radar, I assume due to my age. However, I was delighted to be welcomed as a participant-observer. Tom and I had noticed at dinner that we were the oldest people at this hostel, housing some 30 or 40 people. This is always a welcome change from Sarasota, where we are many times the youngest people in a group of 30 or 40.

There are just so many stereotypes in this little story clamoring for my observation and attention that I don't know where to start. I am wimping out and, instead, I notice the date of this entry and realize that somewhere in the U.S., someone is probably celebrating Earth Day. Today, we celebrated this vast earth by visiting a remote corner and drawing in its serenity, tumultuousness, vibrant colors, and harsh contrasts all at the same time.

Nothing big and obvious lives on the Salar we drove over yesterday. Although today we were back on "regular" ground, as we rise in elevation (4500 meters above sea level), I find that nothing big and obvious lives here either. Unexpectedly, in an area entirely devoid of vegetation, Vicuna grazed contentedly. Our guide said they were living on micro-organisms in the soil. The llama and alpaca did not live at these elevations. We did pass a herd of domesticated llamas with their cute, little, red ear tassels. They were living in an impossibly small pen, and despite their reputed bad temperaments did not mind having their pictures taken.

Their owner, on the other hand, felt that she deserved to be compensated for our photo opportunism. I would have taken a picture of her demanding, scowling demeanor, but she probably would have wanted my weight in silver for such a golden opportunity.

The landscapes we passed through, passed from surreal to sculptural to inviting to barren. We passed a smoking volcano.

We stopped in canyon country for a chance to clamber around the rocks. Surrounded by red rock that reminded me a bit of the Garden of the Gods in Colorado Springs were what looked like small boulders covered in bright green moss. It turns out there was no boulder, just a plant, called yareta.

The views were stark.

All of the rocks had a covering much like eggs have a shell. These covering sheets of rock were eroding away to reveal the underlying base.

We ate lunch near a lake with a flock of wild flamingos who avoided us as best they could. The next lake we came to boasted another flock of wild flamingos also doing their best to avoid us.

Tom, the outlaw with his bandana wrapped around his face, fell asleep on the way to the Stone Tree.

When we arrived at the Laguna Colorada, our guide informed us that the red color of the lake was due to micro-organisms. There was also a lot of borax in area, enogh to climb on in fact.

The last bit of terrain today was very bare. Some of the mountains had a painting-like quality to them. In another area, large rocks were randomly plunked down in a vast emptiness. All majestic in their own way.

It is very cold tonight. There is neither running water, nor hot water in our very basic hostel, the only kind of accommodation available in the area. I told the kids to think of it as camping, but with the benefit of a building, a bed, and a warm meal at the end of the day. This didn't seem to help raise anybody's spirits, so I retired to my sleeping bag, while I was still warm. No singing tonight.

Day 1, Salar de Uyuni Tour, Bolivia

2005-04-20T14:39:00.000-07:00

Diane: Yesterday, we finally got to ride a long distance train! Many of the South American passenger train services have been abandoned one by one over the years. In Bolivia, a once thriving industry now runs at just a fragment of its former capacity. According to our guide for the Salar de Uyuni tour, the train company used to employ 7000 employees in Uyuni alone. Now there are just a handful of employees. As it turns out, our guide is not a terrific source of information, except for the prices of various commodities, such as quinoa or salt, and our current elevation, so I take this with a grain of salt.

Although we sat on the sunny side of the train and kept the shades down for the most part, the large expanses of land were easily viewed through the large windows on the opposite side. The most extraordinary portion of the journey was riding through a large marsh/lake. It seems an unlikely spot for railroad tracks.

Today we started our tour of the Salar de Uyuni, salar meaning salt flat and Uyuni being the name of the nearest town. It was a fantastic spectacle - a white lake of salt, up to 120 meters deep at its deepest. Small portions of the salar were still underwater following the rainy season, meager as it was.

We traveled by Toyota LandCruiser, 6 passengers to each vehicle.

We stopped in a small town where they refine salt and make salt sculptures to sell to tourists. Salt certainly left its mark.

The walls of the store were made entirely of salt bricks. Calliope took a taste just to be sure.

The most popular construction method involved the use of calcified rock for the foundation, adobe bricks for the walls, and grass (paja) roofs.

Our next stop was to examine the salt mining methods used on the Salar. As the water in the Salar dries up after the rainy season, locals create large mounds of salt. These mounds dry in the sun for about a month, and then are loaded into the back of a pickup and for the most part, carted off to be refined for personal use.

Still traveling on the Salar, our next stop was the Salt Hotel. The building is made of salt; the chairs are made of salt; even the beds are made of salt.

This building is no longer used as a hotel, so they call it a museum now.

We ate lunch at Fish Island, so called, because as you approach it from a distance and from a certain angle and at a certain time of year, it looks like a fish. We evidently didn't hit it quite right. It is covered with wonderfully huge cacti and craggy volcanic rock.

We continued, carefully skirting an area of the Salar in which cars would sink if they weren't careful, even taking a road where necessary.

Our hostel for the evening was located in the small town of Chuvica. The crusty dirt, salt, and plant formations along the edge of the Salar were captivating.

Musings, La Paz, Bolivia

2005-04-17T11:18:00.000-07:00

Diane: Although I had anticipated only a day or two of rest in La Paz to split up a 20 hour bus/train ride, we ended up staying 6 days. Everybody but me was strongly affected by the altitude. The airport in La Paz is at around 4000 meters above sea level. Most of the city is built on a downward slope from about 4000 to about 3500 meters above sea level. Although Cusco is at 3300 meters and we didn't suffer there, La Paz was a different kettle of fish. We found an apartment on the tenth floor with lots of light and a great view of the city. Julia, the amiable owner is a single woman and she rents out 2 small bedrooms - one with two twin beds and one with a full-sized bed. With my usual flair for timing, it was as if she was waiting for us, since neither room was occupied. The alternative accommodations in the city center were overpriced, smelled terrible, had tremendous street noise, or were just plain decrepit, so this was a great find!

Although a big, dirty city with lots of poverty, I am very comfortable in La Paz. There are several vegetarian restaurants to choose from within a short radius of our apartment. Even better, a lot of the street food is vegetarian. There are lots of street vendors who make carrot juice or orange juice right on the spot - and not the watery, gloppy juice I learned to avoid in most of Peru. There is a lot of hustle and bustle, but most of it is not directed at foreigners, so it feels very authentic after a couple of weeks in the Sacred Valley of Peru, whose economic base is tourism. As in most cities we have visited, many of the women continue to wear their traditional clothing. But here, it feels like a much larger percentage continues their traditions. At this altitude, the temperature is generally cold year round. Consequently, the women dress in layers, so to my eyes many of them are an unexpected Christmas-tree shape when all is said and done. There embroidered blouses and shawls shimmer a bit in the daylight. Many women street-vendors wear colorful blue and white checked aprons. None of these women used backpacks; they used the colorful blankets of the region to cart their loads. The ubiquitous bowler hats complete their wonderful outfits. I'm still hoping for some good pictures of this to show up on my computer.

Since we stayed so long, I had an opportunity to tour some of the city's more interesting museums. The Coca Museum chronicles the long and somewhat convoluted history of the use of coca leaves in Bolivia. I am aware that the United States has been heavily involved in attempting to eradicate the drug economies and fields of many South American countries, but there was a lot more to it. For example, during colonial times, there was a double standard. Spain made the use of coca illegal in Spain, but legalized it in Bolivia, with the intent of increasing the hours worked by the indigenous miners. To this day, miners live and work in substandard conditions.

Calliope and I went to a street fair on the Prado today. Half of it looked like street fairs at home, with public safety displays, games and races for kids, dancing groups, people hamming it up in costumes, and jugglers.

But, the other half was almost entirely political. Huge illustrated panels explained the plight of miners. And I wasn't the only one reading them. Each block held a new petition to sign. Several important indigenous rights activists are being held indefinitely in detention in La Paz without trial. There were bands with anti-free-trade songs. As I understand it, Bolivia is the poorest, most exploited South American country. There are strikes here regularly that affect everything from the availability of food to the passage of traffic on primary roads. With such a highly activist population, I do not understand why some sort of justice has been so slow to get here. There must be so many unpublicized tragedies here.

I also had time to visit the Museum of Musical Instruments. Not many cultures could support an entire museum devoted to musical instruments, but Bolivia has a strong and vibrant musical history. The guitar and its many variants are standard fare in Bolivia as well as the rest of South America. Young men grow up learning to play the guitar in order to serenade the women of their dreams. The museum displayed guitars made from animal hides and shells and in many shapes and sizes.

There was one room dedicated to musical inventions. I'm not sure how you'd play a two necked guitar, but the display certainly got me thinking.

How about a 5 necked stringed instrument?

There are many traditional percussion instruments as well. Many shaker-type instruments are made from various plant products. But some are made from metal.

Yet others are made of coins!

As in Peru, wind instruments play a large role in the musical sounds of Bolivia.

Evidently, as in Peru, no Bolivian museum is complete without a mummy.

Although the mummy was an antique, many of the instruments on display were made recently. The art of making musical instruments is alive and kicking in Bolivia.

A couple of days ago, I lured TM out of bed to join me in a short expedition in search of the perfect acne cure. I had seen the impressive witch's market in Chiclayo, but the one in La Paz was larger with a wider selection, so I figured our chances for success were pretty good. There were a lot of love potions,

llama-fetuses,

thank-you offerings,

and cures for the most incurable of conditions.

Really, they seemed to have just about everything, except acne cures. And then it hit me - the indigenous people here don't get acne. So of course they wouldn't be selling acne cures.

Most-Crowded Aisle on a Bus to Cusco, Peru

2005-04-11T17:59:00.000-07:00

Diane: Yesterday, Tom and I took the local bus from Pisac to Cusco. Since we hopped on in the middle of the route, it was no surprise that most of the seats were taken. There were two aisle seats next to each other, and another couple of empty seats in the very last row. We nabbed the aisle seats and talked a bit about where we want to go next. I am all for heading down to the Salar de Uyuni, whereas Tom still wants to go to Lake Titicaca.

Within about 15 minutes, we had picked up a boatload of young school-children who filled the center aisle of this bus. Bodies now obscured Tom's face and we could no longer talk. A teenage woman was leaning all over the back of my seat and onto where my head was resting. Additionally, squeezed between her and the seat in front of me were 2 small boys - one standing awkwardly along my armrest and the other bent at a 45 degree angle over my legs. And that was just on my side of the aisle. On Tom's side, there was an adult taking up half the aisle.

I started thinking about taking a picture to show just how crowded the aisle of a bus could get. I wasn't sure I'd be able to get far enough away at a good angle to capture all the bodies. As it turned out, those thoughts were irrelevant, because with this many people leaning over me, I didn't have enough room to reach my daypack, which was sitting between my feet and legs.

Within another 5 minutes, a group of adult-sized students had boarded the bus. Although hard to imagine, 2 of these large newcomers had squeezed beside the 3 people next to me. There were now 6 people standing in the aisle separating Tom and me. This was an ordinary-sized aisle, perhaps a little smaller than usual, but certainly not larger. I could neither hear nor see Tom at all.

At this point, I spotted the bus assistant 2 rows in front of me collecting fares. I struggled to get some money out of my pocket. But the assistant struggled a lot more than I did. Nobody would make way for him, so he had to pick people up and move them forcefully to make his way through. This was full-body-contact bus-riding for those in the aisle. As a seated passenger, I felt that I was getting VIP service. I paid the fare for both Tom and myself, but the bus assistant returned it to me. This was a first. As I sat contemplating this, I heard Tom's voice wafting my way, saying that he'd already paid the fare.

With people hanging in all directions, the windows were pretty much blocked in all directions. It seemed that I would have to use my finely-honed intuition to decide when to get off this bus, or wait until the end-of-the-line. Luckily, the end-of-the-line turned out to be our stop :-). Although this challenging busride was over for us, I realized that these school-kids must ride this severely overcrowded bus every day to school.

Pisac, Sacred Valley, Peru

2005-04-10T17:58:00.000-07:00

Diane: While in Cusco, we had stumbled upon Ana, our German friend who was studying Spanish in Cuenca when we arrived. She had broken up with her boyfriend from Germany, before embarking on her trip around Ecuador and Peru. Without having to worry about the wishes of a fellow traveler, she ended up living and working in Cusco. She is helping at a local primary school, and she lives on the premises. Since we last saw her, she has had several Peruvian boyfriends, has decided to put off going to University (perhaps indefinitely), and now prefers to speak with us in Spanish rather than English.

After several months in Cusco, she was also well-versed in the local disco scene. Which worked out quite well, since we had decided to go out dancing for Paul's final night before returning home. After we sorted out the various levels of sickness and tiredness amongst us, Miki, Calliope, Ana, and I finally hit the dance floor of what seemed the least-crowded venue around (not!). As we danced, various friends of Ana's joined us. Like Ana, they were young blond women, which seemed strange since we haven't stumbled across many young blond women in our travels in Peru. There were lots of interesting things to comment on about the evening, including -

why we didn't pay a cover charge, even though there were men at the door who appeared to be collecting money,

one Peruvian who wanted to dance with our group of 6 foreign women asked Miki's permission to dance with us,

Ana and her German/Swedish/?? friends seemed to know the words to the English music blaring from the speakers better than I did,
...

I only bring all this up, because that night Ana told us that she liked the ruins at Pisac better than those at Machu Picchu. So, when we decided to spend a couple of nights in Pisac, rather than Cusco, I invited Ana to join us for a romp around the ruins. Ana sent me an email this morning letting me know that she had stayed out all night, and had (wisely) decided that her time would be better spent in bed rather than clambering around mountainside ruins on her one day-off.

Yesterday, just after arriving in Pisac and finding a place to stay, our family and Miki parted ways. After almost 3 weeks of sharing close quarters as well as some of Peru's most stunning sites, it was an emotional farewell. This left Tom, TM, Calliope, and I on our own for the first time in several weeks.

Pisac was the first set of Incan ruins we had come across that looked "lived-in". Like Machu Picchu, it had a little of everything: separate areas for agriculture, warriors,

ceremony,

nobility,

and commoners.

These areas were spread out over a hilltop and connected by paths and stone stairs.

There were lots of nice places to sit and take in the views along the way.

And the surrounding mountains provided a beautiful backdrop.

From the ruins, I could see just how small Pisac was and just how large their famous Sunday market was. From the ruins, I could see that the stalls were covered in blue and white awnings. And these awnings overflowed the central plaza and snaked down 3 of the streets emanating from the plaza.

After walking another hour downhill, we too were snaking our way through those streets. Our boots have been getting a good workout.

Machu Picchu, Sacred Valley, Peru

2005-04-07T17:42:00.000-07:00

Diane: Machu Picchu was visually exciting, historically revealing, architecturally staggering, and truly lived up to its reputation. This entry is more scrapbook than diary, so enjoy the pictures. Here's the view upon entry to the site. You can see Wayna Picchu, the big peak on the right.

Off to the left is where our guide said the nobility lived.

Also to the left is the Temple of the Sun. It is the only round building we saw in Machu Picchu. During the June solstice, our guide said that the sunlight lights up the boulder inside. She even showed us a copy of photo of what it looks like on that day. For the most sacred building at the site, this doesn't seem like much of a solar marker.

The terraces are in beautiful shape. They never needed to be reconstructed. My guidebook says that this was due to the extensive drainage and support system underneath. It then goes on to say that most of Machu Picchu was built on top of a landfill that was terraced underneath for support.

There are gorgeous views in every direction.

Miki was here 9 years ago. He said that everything was pretty much identical, except that there are a few more areas cordoned off and one or two areas have started falling apart, including the Principle Temple.

Off the same square as the Principle Temple is the Temple of Three Windows, with windows that make a perfect frame for the not-so-distant mountains.

In the small square itself, there is a kite-shaped stone that our guide said represented the Southern Cross constellation. Climbing up to the top from here, there was a large stone with an impressive name, Hitching Post of the Sun, that our guide said was used to make astronomical observations. She also said it was aligned with all the mountains. No specifics were forthcoming, so I have no idea what this meant. This piece of rock was probably the most-photographed object at the site. Just to leave no sacred stone unturned, at the farthest end of the site, where the climb up Wayna Picchu began, stood the Sacred Rock, purported to have high energy properties and also to mimic the shape of the mountain behind it. I saw one tourist, whose guide gave a detailed demonstration of the ritual touching of the rock, using their hands, face, chest, back, and turning around several times. Even though I tried hard to suspend my disbelief, I couldn't help but turn away and burst out laughing.

My favorite piece of real estate was a home in the Secular Area, where the common people lived. From this home, the views were extraordinary.

Wherever I looked, there was a lot of great stone work.

After a bit of deliberating over what appeared to be an impossible ascent, we decided to hike up Wayna Picchu.

We waited at the entrance for TM's blood sugar to return to normal and had an opportunity to see the sweat-smeared faces and hear the panting of those returning from the walk. The hike up to the top included a steep path of stone steps, cable handrails, and exceptional views.

Near the top of the climb, we watched one woman use a rope to climb over a rock slab. She burst out in tears after getting on solid ground. I immediately recognized in her, my own recent episode with fear-of-heights in Vilcabamba. It's nice to know you're not the only one to suffer such irrational feelings, so I went over to share some water and some of my own story. Another woman joined in, who had been scared of heights all her life and was currently on medication to control her anxiety. If we had talked louder, I wonder if we wouldn't have attracted enough people to start a support group. We were all laughing soon enough and I know I felt a lot better.

To make our way to the next site, the Temple of the Moon, we went through a cool tunnel, climbed some of the Incan stone ladder steps up the side of a large rock, clambered down a steep rock face, and then began the steep descent. The Temple of the Moon was built in a natural cave with high-quality Incan stone work. It had fit in precisely with the natural sculptural shape of the existing rock.

It was damp inside, and as a result, there was one rock face covered in moss, that had accumulated a large amount of graffiti over time.

Although TM had been bed-bound for 3 weeks due to back problems, he had rebounded and none of us could keep up with his hiking pace. After reconnecting back at the Sacred Rock, Calliope and Tom found that the energy from the rock was not sufficient enough to reinvigorate them for any new climbs in the area. They went in search of a bathroom and a relaxing spot to have a couple of liters of water. TM, Miki, and I unwittingly headed over to the Caretaker's Hut and then opted to hike to the Inca Bridge. My guidebook says that this hike is only for those who are good with heights. Since I no longer count myself in that category, I am glad that I did not have the foresight to review this section of the guidebook before embarking on the walk. We passed a rainbow, almost always a sure sign that you're on the right path.

Before encountering a bridge, the path petered out into vertical rock, so we lay down on a slab jutting out over the edge.

From there we spotted the bridge, which had no apparent function as it petered out into steep impassable terrain. How did they build this bridge anyway?

Upon returning to the Caretaker's Hut, we were treated to a classic view and seemingly powerful photo op that compelled each of us to pose in the same spot.

Moray and Salt Pools of Maras, Sacred Valley, Peru

2005-04-06T13:59:00.000-07:00

Diane: Another day of exquisite walking. This time to two Incan sites: one an Incan legacy and the other an Incan mystery. The Incas took a warm salty spring and by building thousands of terraced pools, created a salt mine, which is still in operation today.

Sunlight evaporates the water in each pool, leaving a thin layer of salt. There are narrow paths that crunch underfoot as one explores the pools. The vertical sections of the terraces are covered with thick deposits of salt, creating a patchwork of crystalline sculpture.

Although the pools cover an immense area of hillside, the spring itself does not have that large a flow. By the time it reaches some of the lower pools, it looks more like wet mud than the source of a terraced wonder.

These salt pools are not enigmatic. Unlike many of the ruins we have seen, there are no large unanswered questions, such as "Did slave labor build these enormous, elaborate constructions?" or "Did they use that carved channel in the rock for warm llama blood or warm human blood?" or "Is that rock supposed to represent a condor, a serpent, a guinea pig, or a mountain?" Since the mine has been in continuous operation, the explanations are far more straightforward: the local people work the mine and salt is exported.

Today, some construction was going on across the gorge at the top of the facing mountain. Large boulders were being pushed off the edge, creating small avalanches as they bounced and rolled to the bottom of the gorge. The salt pools provided front row seats.

All of the directions we had received were a bit sketchy, but having tanked up on Kola Real, an awful-tasting Peruvian soda, we were ready to tackle the long, dusty, unknown road to Moray.

We stopped for a break near some sort of large power or communications tower. Miki went over to see if perhaps his cell phone would get a signal. Cell phone communication is a bit different here in Peru than it is at home. There are tons of telephone stores; even street vendors sell cell phones. Lots of people carry cell phones, but almost nobody has any minutes. Once in a while you'll actually see someone talking on a cell phone, but for the most part, people tend to check them frequently, read the display, dial a lot of numbers, and make funky cell phone music with the multitude of rings available. Rather than talk on a cell phone, the majority of communication involves text messaging. Even I tried this out, when we left Chiclayo. By logging on to a special account, I used the internet to send a text message to Miki's phone. Today, Miki was looking for an opportunity to check his text messages, since he wasn't getting any signal in Ollantaytambo, where we are staying.

While I'm on the subject, I'll mention that people here also use the internet to communicate in a slightly different manner than we do in the U.S. Everybody uses MSN Messenger to chat, which they just call Messenger. In the ubiquitous internet cafes that can be found in almost every city, town, and village in Peru, if I glance over at someone else's monitor, I am more likely than not to see either Messenger or Hotmail up on their screen. Many people also use Messenger in combination with a headset and microphone to have the equivalent of a phone conversation with their buddies. Although I don't intend to eavesdrop on others, it is almost impossible to avoid, due to the fact that the machines are generally lined up very close to one another.

So, here's the difference. In the U.S., most of the people I know use their personal email to communicate with others at their convenience - when the baby is napping for half an hour, in the middle of the night when they can't sleep, perhaps early in the morning when their friends are still asleep. You don't really have a full-fledged dialog, but you have more frequent contact. Additionally, you can let many people know what's going on, when there's a major life event, e.g. a death, a birth, or how you felt when Kerry lost the last election. But in Peru, people use the internet for real-time communications, chatting away on Messenger.

And now, back to our walk.

After a bit of probing on my part, it turns out that Miki had received a text message from his girlfriend of 5 years. They had had a fight on Messenger a couple of days ago and now she was evidently breaking up with him with a text message. These text messages only support a couple of hundred characters (256?), so she must have been very succinct. TM maintains that last fall, one of his friends was dumped over IM (the chatting application most popular in the U.S.). And here we have one of the more unimaginative, wimping-out uses of the latest technology.

We did finally arrive in Moray and we were not disappointed. We had seen pictures of Moray's perfect circular terracing. Unlike the clearcut nature of the salt mine, these terraces were a bit of a mystery.

The first and largest terraced sinkhole we came to, looked like an amphitheater. But, they say it ain't so. The latest theory holds that Moray was an agricultural research station. It was built to create different microclimates with gradations of sun, shade, elevation, and therefore temperature as well. The perfect irrigation channels from terrace to terrace, and the discovery of different seeds on different terraces support this theory.

Scientists hypothesize that this might be where the Incas learned to grow corn and potatos in a variety of conditions, which would have provided them the ability to expand their empire.

We passed a professional videographer on our way down to the bottom of the sinkhole. When we arrived, Miki sat down in the center to compose a letter to his now ex-girlfriend. I starting putting together apple and cheese sandwiches.

Tom took our picture. And, Calliope set her attention on the videographer, who was now filming us, and the narrator who thought we were preparing for a spiritual journey or at least an offering to Pachamama. There's a rather coarse line between spiritual rituals and eating, but I have confidence that they will realize their mistake before airing this footage.

If you click on the photo above and enlarge it as much as you can, you'll be able to see us more clearly. Additionaly, you can see the zigzag steps that lead from one terrace to the next. We had to take huge steps to descend. The indigenous people here are very, very short, so we are all a bit confounded as to why the Incas would create steps that appear to be designed for long-legged people.

Shortly after arriving at the bus station to take our return bus to Ollantaytambo, Miki's cell phone rang. In a very unusual move, he actually answered the phone. We found our way to the proper bus and Miki ended his conversation, just as we started to board. He and his girlfriend had reunited! A joyful ending to a delightful day.

Pumamarca Ruins, Sacred Valley, Peru

2005-04-05T09:35:00.000-07:00

Diane: After several days of bus rides and primarily short city walks, I thought we should start getting in shape for Machu Picchu. The Machu Picchu site spans an altitude difference of 1000 meters!

And so we set off to Pumamarca, walking up a gently sloping river valley. We passed many stone terraces, generally of inferior construction to those we saw yesterday in Ollantaytambo, but just as big. Each terrace was taller than me (click below and blow up the photo to see just how small I am).

They don't appear to be cultivating anything on these terraces.

Part of our hike took us alongside a stone irrigation channel that had been maintained for centuries. Even so, the land on either side consisted of overgrown grasses and bushes.

I thought the terraces might make good grazing spots, but we saw no cows or sheep happily munching away. The stone steps that led from one terrace to the next were nothing more than large stone rungs sticking out from the terrace walls. Climbing these large steps was exhilarating. They were still functional after who knows how many centuries of disuse.

The mountain views were spectacular. Although the valleys of this region were part of the breadbasket during Incan times providing food for 100,000 or more, the surrounding mountains were harsh.

Pumamarca is, for the most part, a pre-Incan site, constructed over several centuries, revealing varying construction techniques. Tourists don't come here, because they are too intent on getting to Machu Picchu. Even those who stay in nearby Ollantaytambo for a couple of days don't bother with the 22km round trip hike. As a result, many of the rooms were smothered in wildflowers.

As soon as we arrived, everybody else lay down for a nap, either in the sun or in their own hat-created shade.

Linguistic Aside: For those of you who, like me, enjoy teasing out the common roots in words, take a look at the word "sombrero". It means "hat" in Spanish and when I think of a sombrero, an image of a farmer working in the fields with a broad brimmed straw hat comes to mind. There are other Spanish words for different types of hats, such as bonnets or warm winter knit hats. But sombrero has the same root as the word for shadow or shade, "sombra". So if looking at the roots of the word "sombrero", you might literally translate "hat" as a "maker of shade". And so, in Spanish, the phrase "hat-created shade" might be a bit redundant.

In any event, since we were the only ones there and the sun was shining, we had found a perfect resting spot. Lunch would have to wait.

TM climbed way up above the Pumamarca ruins to capture a bird's eye view of this walled enclave.

My favorite building looked like a face, with two eyes, a nose and bushy eyebrows.

The Ruins, Ollantaytambo, Peru

2005-04-04T18:57:00.000-07:00

Diane: We are in this neck of the woods to see Incan ruins. And, we are inundated!

The terraces we saw from town that were dwarfed by the surrounding mountainside are now dwarfing us.

Above the terraces, some of the larger stones are pieced together perfectly

In one area, super-sized stones had been quarried and brought to the site. Although unfinished, it was still impressive.

Typical of the Incan ruins we've seen to date, there were lots of stairs and a multitude of construction techniques. The variations in the quality of stonework may have been due to their uses (e.g. doors and foundations tended to demonstrate superior quality), the owner's level in the hierarchy, and/or the time period of the construction.

From the ruins, we had an overwhelming view of the mountains that dwarfed the small town of Ollantaytambo.

Magical Ollantaytambo, Sacred Valley, Peru

2005-04-04T18:56:00.000-07:00

Diane: We arrived in Ollantaytambo last night in the dark. After passing the central plaza, the bus let us off at the train station (go figure). There was no public bathroom in the vicinity, so I walked into a crowded restaurant to use their bathroom, which required that I go out a back door, through the mud, and by some people's bedrooms in the dark. Once back on the street, I was ready to find one of the hostals recommended in our guide. I asked one of the street vendors where the hostal was. Neither she nor anyone around her had heard of it. We decided to find a taxi and let them help us figure out where the hostal was. The cab driver had not heard of the hostal, or the street where it was located, Atoq K'ikllu. I could tell we were in the Ketchua heartland just by that street name. Ketchua or Quechua or any variant therein was the language of the Incas and is still the primary language spoken by many in the Andes of Ecuador and Peru. The taxi driver did drive us around the 3 or 4 streets that made up the town, but was unable to locate the street or hotel we were looking for. He dropped us in the central plaza, overcharged us, and went on his way. A woman approached us, who evidently worked at the hostal we were seeking, the Hostal Chaskawasa (more Ketchua). Well, someone was looking out for us. We walked up a narrow cobblestone street, so narrow that no cars would fit there.

We woke up in the morning to a spectacular view of straight-up mountains seemingly just outside our room.

The view looking out the hostal's front door was equally amazing, but for different reasons. You could still see the fine original Incan stonework at the foundation of the building across the way. The wall above was newer, used smaller stones, and filler between the stones, but the lower stones bore the unmistakable markings of Incan stonework. These buildings have been inhabited continuously since Inca times (the 1400's). Way cool!

Everybody else slept in, so I went for a walk around town, checking out the construction techniques. Two streets over is an irrigation canal that flows right through the center of the town. The flow is so strong, there are patches of white water. One street over, in the other direction, there is another one. More evidence that the Incas were experts at manipulating water flow. Unbelievable that it is also still fully functional. Large flat stones provide small bridges over these canals to each of the homes lining the street.

The cross streets provided wonderful views up into the mountains. Right next to me a rock wall leads up to some homes with red tile roofs. Following the line of the wall, my eye comes to Incan stone terraces running up the hillside. Above the terraces, a large mountain of rock looms. Each construction is magnificent in its own way.

Each street I walk down, each direction I turn, provides another majestic view from human construction to the mountains on all sides.

They have kept the tradition of rooftop sculptures here. They call them, torritos, "small bulls".

Each of these streets is too narrow for cars. I see only pedestrian and wheelbarrow traffic. Now I understand, why the taxi driver didn't know where to go last night. He never drives these streets, because cars don't fit here. A taxi driver does not know the street names in his own town. I got a map of Ollantaytambo from the "tourist office" in the local museum. Although it does show the town's soccer field (cancha), it lacks any street names.

As it turns out, this map was neither very useful, nor very necessary.

Everybody I came across, seemed friendly. They spoke to me, but in their native Ketchua. Only after I spoke Spanish did they respond in Spanish. And once they said, "Good morning", they'd exhausted their knowledge of Spanish and, smiling, we went our separate ways.

I love this place. It seems a bit of magic, a place out of time. The trains and buses full of tourists arriving from Cusco and Machu Picchu are, unfortunately, a strong force for change. Already, it's hard to find a non-tourist-oriented restaurant. I'm rooting for Ollantaytambo to preserve its way of life, its identity, its bit of magic.

Getting Out Of Town, Cusco, Peru

2005-04-02T18:54:00.000-08:00

Diane: Today we took a taxi out to the Incan ruins of Tambomachay and then walked 8 km back to Cusco passing 3 other ruins on the way. Our guide, Arturo, gave us some background on the ruins as well as helped us find our way back to town. The rainy season is with us here in Cusco, but we had sun for most of the day.

In Tambomachay, the Incas took a natural spring and channeled it into 3 waterfalls, which several hundred years later continue to work perfectly. The water flow never varies throughout the year.

The nearby hillside was covered with locally woven blankets, making a colorful scene.

Just beyond Tambomachay was Puca Pucara, a good photo opportunity, but not terribly significant as far as Incan ruins go.

We walked through fields to get to the Moon Temple, which protected us from the midday rain. We continued through the countryside to Q'enqo, which means zigzag. Carved into the rock were perfect zigzag channels, which may have flowed with llama blood during religious ceremonies. There were also steps that didn't really go anywhere. Additionally, there were faint carvings of a puma and a condor on the rock.

Beyond Q'enqo, we stopped at a trout lake and restaurant. Miki and Arturo spent half an hour with bread crumbs trying to catch trout with their hands. After Arturo gave up, Calliope decided to give it a try. I've seen Miki catch ducklings, cuy, a sea animal called a muy-muy, and a bug that makes a cool noise every time you press on it. So, fishing with his hands was quite in character.

And then on to Sacsayhuaman, which was my favorite stop of the day. We went through a cool, totally dark tunnel.

Then we passed through a field of ruins covered with flowers.

Finally we found ourselves overlooking a grand meeting area across from three immense rock walls.

Only the largest stones here remain. As late as the 1930's, people were still using this site as a quarry, taking away beautifully cut stones for their own uses.

The amusement-park highlight was a natural stone slide. It looked to me like the slide had smoothed over the years from all the people sliding down, but perhaps the Incas had also figured out how to polish stones. I felt there needed to be water flowing down the slide in order to make it slippery and there should be a gentle leveling off of the slide at the end to promote a safe landing. Without either, I wimped out and waited for some of the others to slide down first. What a blast, when I finally decided to take the plunge.

After tearing ourselves away from the non-water slide, we moved on to the White Christ overlooking Cusco. It's not a quaint little town.

Finally we headed down a couple thousand steps into town. As a newcomer to town, I was quite impressed that Arturo chose stairs that led directly to our hostal.

Logistics, Cusco, Peru

2005-03-31T18:52:00.000-08:00

Diane: We arrived in Cusco early this morning after a relatively sleep-free 25 hours on a bus. This following piece from one of the local museums clearly demonstrates how we all felt during the night.

At this point, Tom and TM are ready to choose our next destination based on where the train goes.

After making a sweep of many of the budget lodgings, we found our current home-away-from-home in a quaint neighborhood of narrow cobblestone streets and Incan stone foundations. A couple of blocks away are the infamous 12-sided stone, carved to fit perfectly with the surrounding stones.

As it turns out, the place is also crawling with trendy restaurants, laundromats, chocolate shops, travel agencies, and women dressed in indigenous outfits holding baby goats ready to pose for a picture for a dollar. When I walk down to the central plaza, there are also tens, maybe hundreds, of touts luring me into the closest restaurant, pub, or disco, who have no compunction about pinning things on me, putting things in my hand, grabbing onto my clothing, and trying to unzip my sweatshirt pockets. I almost forgot to mention the vendors, who want to polish my purple sneakers, shove cigarettes in my face, or hold a large bag of individually wrapped hard candy next to their imploring faces. Gosh, I can't help but love it here ;-).

Maybe not today, but very soon we need to attend to the logistics of leaving Cusco. This is not because I can't wait to leave, but because the trains, buses, planes, and hotels here tend to fill up even in the low season. The only way to get to Machu Picchu is by train or to walk in with a guide. Consequently, not only are the train prices jacked way up, but the trains tend to fill up as well. And TM's best friend Paul needs to get back to Lima to catch his connecting flight to Miami. And lastly, we need to buy our onward tickets, which begs the question - where are we going next?

Quinua, Peru

2005-03-28T12:00:00.000-08:00

Diane: After the final Easter procession and a couple of wild days with little sleep, most out-of-towners were on their way home. We, on the other hand, decided to stay a couple of extra days to chill out and enjoy the surrounding countryside.

Peru's first empire builders, the Wari, built their capital near current-day Ayacucho. The Incas successfully covered the tracks of prior cultures, so speculation rules the day when it comes to the Wari. Current evidence suggests that the Wari empire spanned most of Peru as far north as Chiclayo and as far south as Arequipa. They worshiped mummies. Their stone carving abilities probably provided the foundation for the great advances made by the Incas. The Wari expanded their empire combining the cultures of their predecessors and then evangelizing, rather than fighting and enslaving (Update: I have subsequently read sources that indicate the Wari were no different than most other empire builders, fighting their way to the top. This is certainly a more believable version of events; although I would love to stick with the evangelizing version of events). Current estimates suggest that in its hey-dey, the capital spread over between 740 and 1000 acres. Although largely buried by sand, the ruins of the Wari capital are being preserved in an archaeological preserve that visitors may wander through. Still visible above ground are walls up to 12 feet high. Although harder to spot, Calliope can be seen there as well.

However, the large majority of ruins are covered by a beautiful forest of prickly-pear cactus.

Although the Wari ruins are on the way to the small town of Quinua, the combis (buses) that passed by were all full. After an hour or so, we ended up catching a ride in the back of a large truck hauling glass, paint, miscellaneous building supplies, and workers to a school construction project in Quinua. Just before the town, as the truck slowed to a stop, one of the passengers in the cab hopped out, grabbed a stone, and put it behind the right back tire. The stone was a tad too small and the truck started to roll downhill. We braced for impact. The back tires rolled off the road and crossed an irrigation ditch, lodging with an air of permanence. We hopped out and continued into Quinua on foot. I was fervently hoping that our additional weight did not cause the brakes to fail.

Quinua is known for its "iglesias de Quinua", miniature clay churches on top of their houses that are purported to bring good luck. We learned about the custom of placing small sculptures on rooftops back in Cuenca. In Cuenca, the sculpture usually embodied Catholic iconography, generally including a cross. In pre-Colombian times, they were displayed for good luck. After the Spanish came, displaying a cross on the roof demonstrated their newly-imposed faith. Almost as an aside, these small sculptures were also effective lightning rods.

In Quinua, these rooftop sculptures ranged from simple affairs to elaborate productions.

We filled up on soda before heading uphill to the extremely quaint central plaza and then out of town to the Pampa de Ayacucho. A stone obelisk has been erected there to memorialize the final battle for South America's independence fought and won in 1824.

My guide book says that the "battle began at 10 a.m. after relatives and friends on opposing sides were allowed to greet each other." 44 years earlier there had been an indigenous rebellion against the Spanish. As recently as the 1980's and 1990's, this area was the home of an 11-year civil war that claimed thousands of Peruvian lives. There isn't anybody left to talk with concerning the battle for South American independence, but there are lots of people to talk with about the more recent violence.

A 25-year-old Ayacuchan, who would have been born just as the most recent violence erupted says that nobody in his family will talk about those years. His Mom just starts crying, even though they only lost one family member.
Other older Ayacuchans I spoke with say that the terrorists came from other towns and from the countryside and that the movement really didn't have local roots.
A foreigner who married a local woman and has lived in Ayacucho for the past 8 years says that most of the educated Ayacuchans fled to Lima and that after the violence ended, the terrorists all moved into the drug trade or moved to Lima. He felt that the people who are left don't have much interest in politics.
Cedy, with whom I shared Spanish and English conversations, says that there were uprisings here, because the poverty was so much more intense than elsewhere. After the agrarian reform in the 70's, when land was taken from the large landholders and redistributed to those who worked the land, campesinos here found themselves in an untenable position. Mining had been the regional economic base. The campesinos here didn't have the expertise needed to run successful mining operations; that knowledge had departed along with the large property owners. Yet, the land was too rocky to be farmed. Although the government provided assistance to the local people; it was all directed toward improving farming methods, which was a futile activity.

It was obvious that most people were reluctant to talk about this tragic chapter in Ayacuchan history. However, there was one group that was interested in remembering it. They put out an alternative tourist map and distributed it for free. Instead of showing churches, plazas, and markets as primary points of interest, it highlighted sites of government violence, rebellions, and resistance.

I have a rule of thumb that I have lived by while in South America - I don't take much stock in anything anyone tells me, unless another independent source tells me the same thing. Perhpas there is a little bit of truth in all the accounts of recent history, but no two people gave me the same perspective. As a result, I'm not going to speculate on this, except to say that I'm impressed/baffled/blown-away that such a strong desire for independence has apparently been passed down through the generations for a couple hundred years.

Regardless of its prominent place in history, the Pampa de Ayacucho provided one big photo op.

Fireworks, Ayacucho, Peru

2005-03-26T15:06:00.000-08:00

Diane: I had seen castillos in Cuenca - large structures erected for the sole purpose of launching fireworks, generally surrounded by large, admiring crowds. These castillos had been 3 or 4 stories high. Each story would launch separately, starting at the ground level working up to the very top. It was all very dramatic, with the most exciting bit saved for the finale. But in Ayacucho, the castillos were far larger and more elaborate with 8, 9, and 10 stories.

Bands played as they set off fireworks. The risk-takers in the crowd, danced within 20 feet of these structures. The rest of the crowd hung back a bit, so as not to get singed by flying sparks. And every few minutes, we were taken by surprise as a new creative display lit up the sky.

To bring this pyrotechnic display more in synch with the sacred nature of the week, most of these castillos included some sort of religious iconography.

By 2 a.m., there were still plenty of unlit castillos adorning the plaza. It was becoming clear that this would go on all night. We went back to our hostal to sleep a couple of hours, before the final pre-dawn Easter procession. We returned to the plaza before dawn to find piles of burning aromatic sticks and a mass being conducted inside the cathedral. The last monumental float sat inside the cathedral holding thousands of unlit candles.

They were still firing off castillos. We watched with thousands of other Peruvians, as they set off a couple more magnificent displays. We did not stay to see the final float paraded around the plaza, as the crowd had grown to crushing proportions and we were exhausted.

Running the Bulls, Ayacucho, Peru

2005-03-26T06:15:00.000-08:00

Diane: TM's best friend, Paul, arrived in Ayacucho early this morning just in time for the final activities of Semana Santa.

The marvelous pedestrian promenade was now the site for "running" the bulls. I had read reports that young men were seriously injured every year trying to run with said bulls. Regardless - we headed to the plaza to be part of the action. As we waited, we watched small processions pass by every 10 minutes or so.

There were marching bands.

There was drinking.

And there was non-stop dancing in the streets. It was a very mild form of dancing, in which the revelers hold hands with one person leading the line in twists and turns and figure-eights in time to the music.

TM and Paul joined in, spending hours dancing around the central plaza. A panic would arise every 15 minutes or so, when all those in the street thought that a bull was coming. They would all lunge for the assumed safety of the sidewalks. I managed to keep my position on the sidewalk, but I was pushed, pulled, and jangled in any number of directions. Thankfully, I befriended a family standing next to me, who helped protect me from being run over by the crowd. Sometimes these false alarms were the result of horses riding through the crowd. And sometimes, I had the feeling that a bull must be somewhere near due to the level of intense alarm all around me, but I never did see one.

It was a hot afternoon and those dancing, including TM and Paul, were working up a sweat. The local firefighters brought a pumper truck to hose the crowds down every half hour or so. In between the large water blasts, many in the crowd implored those watching from upstairs balconies to pour water on them.

After a few hours in the midday sun with no bulls in sight, TM came running back to me to report that he had just touched the horn of a bull that had come charging down the street. There was corroboration from Mikki. TM had been trying to run away from the bull, but the bull had been more successful at running away from its driver and had come within inches of maiming my sweet baby.

Calliope and Tom had decided that they'd had enough of standing around sweating and had already retired to the hotel. TM and Paul decided to join them.

I hadn't realized that any bulls had actually been in the vicinity, but now it seemed that all those around me had seen several. I decided to make my way past any security and get a front row seat in one of the balconies. I was intent on seeing a bull. The hard part was breaking through the crowds on the sidewalk. After that, the rest was easy. Mikki and I walked into a building, found the stairs leading up to a restaurant, and joined in with those on the balcony. We must have been charmed, because there were thousands of people on the streets who would have loved to do the same thing, but there were only a couple dozen of us who had succeeded. Although the feeling upstairs was not as spirited as down below, we did have a great view of the firefighters spraying water on the crowd. We also watched from above as folks created human pyramids.

We watched caballos de paso prancing down the streets. And finally, we watched a bull run through the central plaza!

After finally seeing a bull come ploughing through the crowd, I went home to review the videos I had shot. I was astonished to find that I had shot footage of several bulls running through the plaza, even though I had not actually seen any at the time. I had been holding the camera over my head, so it's possible that all the bodies in front of me had obscured my view. However, this was unlikely, since all the short Peruvians around me had seen the bulls. As a thought-provoking aside, with these videos, I have created a new reality of my own experience.

Tom Buys a Rug, Ayacucho, Peru

2005-03-25T11:59:00.001-08:00

Tom: Semana Santa takes place mostly at night; the candlelit processions, ornately decorated floats, elaborate street murals and massed chanting faithful all appear mainly at night. During the days the people of the Ayacucho region put on displays of the products of their quotidian labors. These fairs encompass agricultural products, livestock, traditional functional and artesanal crafts, music and dance. Today, we went to a fair that highlighted locally produced honey, luscious jams, idiosyncratic wines and liquors, fat and succulent cuy (guinea pig), highly detailed ceramics and colorful and exotic textiles.

During the course of our trip, I have been tempted by lots of gorgeous wall hangings, rugs and garments. I have not bought anything mainly because I have not wanted to carry anything along as we travel. I also am leery of returning to Florida with delicious llama or alpaca wool treats to feed the legions of the moths and other hungry critters who share our living space. Today, I found something I wanted and felt secure about bringing home.

The Conquistadors left Spain confident that they represented the pinnacle of world civilization. They confronted and destroyed a civilization that was equally certain of its’ being the acme of human achievement. Technology, disease, selfishness, arrogance and serendipity were among the factors that made the Spanish victory possible. When the Conquistadors made their sweep through the Incan empire they were faced with wonders and achievements that made their victories seem unlikely if not impossible. Indeed, the ease with which a huge, well organized and militaristic society was dismantled by a tiny number of men made it clear to the aggressors and the defeated that the Spanish triumph must be the will of God. The success of the Conquistadors was sped by the extraordinary Incan road system. One aspect of the road system that amazed the Spanish was suspension bridges that were far beyond anything that existed in Europe. Suspension bridges were to be one of the wonders of the industrial revolution. Steel cables made possible spans that were inconceivable previously. Four hundred years earlier the Incans made this leap without iron or steel. They hung spans high over impassable abysses containing churning rivers; some of these bridges lasted for centuries after their empire had been destroyed. These wonders of engineering hung upon cables fabricated from twisted fibers of a plant most of us think of only when wondering where tequila comes from, the agave plant.

Ezequiel Gomez is a weaver from Ayacucho.

He does not work in llama and alpaca wool as do the vast majority of his colleagues. He is weaving with agave fibers. These fibers are not attractive to insects, they are extremely durable and they are colored with slow fading vegetable dyes.

The designs used in the piece which I purchased are derived from designs used by the Wari people, a predecessor of the Incans. It is thought that the Incans took many of their most successful ideas from the Wari.

I promised Ezequiel that I would put some pictures of him and his work on the web. I hope you like this Ezequiel.

Caballos de Paso, Ayacucho, Peru

2005-03-24T17:38:00.000-08:00

Diane: Many posters around Ayacucho are advertising festivals. There's a trout festival (don't ask me what they do at a trout festival), a gastronomic festival, several crafts festivals, and lastly a caballo de paso festival. Tom says caballo de paso translates as walking horse. Since I'm not sure this is correct, I'm sticking with caballo de paso. In any event, caballos de paso are known for their graceful gait. Here are a couple of pictures of these lovely horses in the central plaza in Ayacucho. You can see a little bit of how spirited they are, how their front lower legs move, and how decorated they are.

So we headed out to the agricultural fair where the caballo de paso exhibition was being held. We got there an hour after the scheduled start time, but the horses and their owners were still milling around in a disorganized fashion.

We decided to check out the cattle show. They spent a lot of time talking about the various cow/bull varieties, how they moved, how they were hung, their size, and other items whose Spanish translation I did not understand. We drifted back to the horse exhibition after drinking some coconut water and coconut flesh, chowing on a pomegranate, trying on the latest in army apparel,

and checking out the tens of varieties of beans and lima beans. Lima beans are big here. They serve them regularly on the fixed menus. They roast and toast them and eat them as snacks. As I translated the Spanish to English and spelled it out, I realized that "lima bean" was probably named after the city of Lima and the pronunciation altered. Perhaps Lima was where English-speakers first encountered this Peruvian staple. One of the things I love about studying Spanish are all the eye-opening realizations about culture, history, and common linguistic roots. I'll have to check into this one.

But back to the horses. For this exhibition the owners were decked out in bright spanking-clean white clothing, including white straw hats.

The horses were decked out in their finest tooled leather, woven and beaded bridles and reins, cropped manes, and general finery. Mikki has a friend with caballos de paso, who spent $3000 to obtain similar high quality gear. It seems exorbitant sum by Peruvian standards.

The exhibition, although not amenable to still photos, was marvelous.

Flower Carpets, Ayacucho, Peru

2005-03-23T16:50:00.000-08:00

Diane: The guidebooks and promotional literature indicated that tonight would be a "mystical" experience. There were two big differences that I could see, neither mystical but both full of local color. One was that people spent all afternoon into the evening using flower petals and colored powders to create murals on the streets around the central plaza.

Each square sported a sponsor and a "flower painting".

These squares covered the streets. At night, the crowds moved from mural to mural appreciating the artwork, the skill, and the subject matter chosen.

The themes ranged from Catholic imagery to pretty designs to popular cultural icons.

Many of the nights preceding this one had at least one flower carpet. The nightly procession would walk right over it, utterly destroying it only minutes or hours after it had been created. I don't know if the underlying philosophy is the same, but there are undertones of Tibetan sand mandalas here. Several monks traveled from Tibet to Sarasota a couple of years ago. They spent a week creating an intricate piece of sand art, only to throw the whole thing into Sarasota Bay soon after it was completed.

This evening, after the procession came through trampling the intricate flower paintings, young children moved in with small plastic bags, filling them with the used flower petals. The desire to collect memorabilia must be fairly universal.

In addition to a large array of flower carpets there was also a vast array of music blaring from speakers on each side of the central plaza. Instead of having an army band and a small string section or a small vocal section, there were choruses and orchestras from different parts of Peru performing. It was almost a battle of the bands. As I moved around the plaza, the music at one side would compete with the music from the other side.

Palm Sunday, Ayacucho, Peru

2005-03-20T16:48:00.000-08:00

Diane: Directly off the main plaza is a pedestrian promenade. It is a wide street made from stone. From the wee hours of the morning and on into the night, the street buzzes with activity. It leads down through a decorative arch with a clock that tells the wrong time. All of the outdoor clocks here tell the wrong time. The Tourism Institute is located on this street. My new friend, Cedy, works in one of the offices in the Institute. We have worked out an exchange, whereby we spend an hour each day speaking/teaching English/Spanish to each other. Cedy is one of the most dedicated employees I have ever seen. As far as I can tell, she works every day, generally from about 9 in the morning, until 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 at night. Although from my perspective this does not seem healthy for Cedy, it has provided consistent daily Spanish practice for me. It has also given me the opportunity to learn a little more about the history of Ayacucho and the people here.

The Palm Sunday procession paraded down this pedestrian boulevard this afternoon. In anticipation of the procession, we walked in the opposite direction, until we arrived at the staging ground for the event. The storefronts and 2nd floor windows were decorated with creatively woven palm fronds. Palm trees do not grow in this mountain region, but for this important celebration, there is no shortage of palm fronds.

We passed what appeared to be the source of these palm creations. In a small plaza, surrounded by people excitedly awaiting the upcoming procession, were clusters of women weaving and selling palm fronds.

Compared to the nightly processions we have seen so far, the Palm Sunday parade was far more complex. Donkeys were herded down the street carrying large loads of retama (broom) branches with clusters of yellow flowers. The donkeys sported colorful red headwear as well as red and white flags.

The army was also pressed into service carrying bunches or these branches.

They are carried to the main plaza, to be burned over the course of Semana Santa.

At one point, scores of women paraded down the street each with their own palm frond weaving. They stopped in front of us and based on what was being said over the megaphones, all waved their palms at the same time, creating a quiet, yet powerful, swishing sound.

The clergy surrounded on all sides by these women, and also holding various palm creations, came beautifully arrayed in red and white. They were preceded by a police escort. Wherever we go, all facets of life from our lodging to everyday government functions to vendors telling jokes on the buses, all seem to be entwined with Catholic beliefs and practice.

One gentleman walking in the parade played an instrument I had never seen before. It was made from animal horns pieced together to form a horn of its own.

There were some bands and panpipes to be heard during the procession. Groups of llamas with bells at the end of colorful tassles hanging from their ears graced our presence. Finely adorned horses carried finely adorned women. A group of paso horses also came by trotting gracefully, their front lower legs swinging as they moved.

On our way back to the plaza after the parade had finished, we stumbled upon a group of participants and their horses relaxing after the procession.

The horses were unintentionally blocking traffic as they piled into the small plaza.

The women had kicked back and were laughing and drinking beer.

The clowns had taken off their expressive masks to reveal their expressive faces underneath.

Sweet moments to end a vibrant afternoon.

Nightly Processions, Ayacucho, Peru

2005-03-19T18:06:00.000-08:00

Diane: Our friend Mikki from Chiclayo showed up today at our hotel room ready to enjoy Semana Santa with us. He will be with us for an indefinite amount of time, depending on some important life decisions he is making concerning his studies, his work, and his domicile. With Mikki here, I am excited that we will have strong motivation to continue speaking Spanish, while we are on the road. Growing up in Peru, his bargaining skills and command of Spanish come with the territory; hopefully this will diminish the number of misunderstandings we unintentionally wander into. Since Mikki is completing a degree in tourism and newly working in the tourism industry, this should be an opportunity for him to travel to parts of Peru he has not visited, to improve his English, and to increase his understanding of what lurks in the hearts and minds of foreigners traveling in Peru. I'm hoping we all benefit.

Now that Semana Santa has arrived, there are processions every day. Each procession consists of 2 or 3 floats for Jesus, Mary, and sometimes a patron saint of the church organizing the event.

Additionally there is usally a picture of Jesus raised up high with unexpected iconography surrounding it, such as a rooster above the Christ image and a ladder to his side.

Although small, these processions clearly demonstrate the reverence and devotion of the participants. Heading up each procession are a group of people holding candles.

Then comes a small orchestra, followed by clergy. The floats are not based on the traditional flat-bed or pick-up truck. Instead the float rides on 4 or 5 large logs with many people supporting each log on their shoulders. It looks very heavy and cumbersome. As the float moves it sways from side to side as the weight shifts from the people on one side to those on the other.

Each float is adorned with some electric candles as well as many wax candles. As the float moves, the wax candles blow out. There is usually someone relighting these candles, whenever the procession stops.

Every couple hundred feet the procession stops, the orchestra plays, and members of the clergy speak. Sometimes there will be a changing-of-the-guard, when a new contingent of helpers replaces those carrying the heavy load. Each float is generally flanked on each side by military personnel.

Following the float is an army marching band that plays as they move along.

Somewhere near the musicians both in front of and behind the float are megaphones/speakers as well as someone holding out a microphone nearby. There is also a generator that powers the electric lights and the speakers. Although the generator competes with the musicians for sound space, it is possible to hear the music from various angles. People throw flowers as the procession passes. It generally takes over an hour to move around a small plaza. This provides ample opportunity to float in the sacredness of the moment. For me 15 minutes was sufficient.

Since pre-Columbian times, people here have shown their reverence through parades. They hang images from poles, small banners that showed the purpose of the procession. We have seen some of supports for similar banners, hundreds of years old, made from metal, in some of the museums we have visited. This tradition has continued to the present day and is incorporated into these nightly parades.

Although the processions only involved one or two floats, the elaborate decorations and ornamentation were impressive. The care and preparation time necessary to put it all together were obvious. Candles are an elegant statement in the dark of night.

There is a lot of pain here as well, from "Our Lady of Sorrow" to "Our Lord of Agony". Four to five times a day I am asked if I am Catholic. As a non-Catholic, I am most definitely an outsider here, an observer, with only a weak-to-nonexistent understanding of Christian/Catholic theology.

Oddlings, Ayacucho, Peru

2005-03-19T16:46:00.000-08:00

Diane: Our accommodations here in Ayacucho are budget, but the room on the third floor has a commanding view. Ayacucho is a small city but with 33 churches. Many Peruvians come here during Semana Santa (Holy Week) to enjoy the celebrations and show their devotion. We have arrived a bit early to secure accommodations as well as to let TM's back heal up. From the roof of our hostal, we can see 4 of churches off to the north.

Also from the roof, I can see the striking contrast between the rooftop solar panels and the deteriorating red tile roofs. The hot water here is rather sporadic, so the various hosteliers have taken it upon themselves to provide their patrons hot water using the power of the sun along with the most recent technology from Japan.

To get to our rooms, we walk around a small house down a long walkway with arches and potted plants. Various construction styles are open to view, using stone, brick, mud, wood, and concrete - all quite common in Peru. The only thing missing is using giant rock walls as part of the building. The arches are entirely ornamental - there are no doors or windows that open onto them. One is made of stone; the other from stone and mud.

Just beyond the second arch, there is a chapel built into the hotel. They have services every Sunday at 10:00 a.m. As in almost all of the lodgings we have stayed in, there are pictures of Jesus in almost every room. Here they have also put up quotes from the bible. I am looking forward to the Sunday service, because our room backs right up to the chapel, so we should have music filtering through.

We went for a walk up one of the hills surrounding Ayacucho. Here's a view of our hotel.

Out on the street, there are other sights that reveal how some of the day-to-day doings differ from the U.S. In every city we have visited in Peru, there are long lines of people snaking out of banks and out of various municipal buildings. Sometimes, an abundance of paperwork hangs from the hands of those queueing in front of government buildings. Ayacucho is no exception. I think a lot of the paperwork is an attempt to counter the powerful forces of corruption. Citizens here must go from office to office, building to building, getting the appropriate signatures in the proper order. As a result, filling out paper forms is practically an industry. Copy stores generally also have typists, so that you can have someone type up a form and then make copies. Here in Ayacucho there is a street I've dubbed "typists row". Typists sit out on the street with their typewriters, waiting for clients. And, there is no shortage of business.

Miscellaneous Musings, Lima, Peru

2005-03-09T07:08:00.000-08:00

Diane: My intention was to spend 1 day in Lima and get packing, but it looks like we'll be here a week. We located a neurologist the day we arrived. I find that neurologist is a hard word to say in Spanish, even though it looks very much like the English word and has fewer letters - neurólogo. If I take it slowly, one letter at a time, I can get to the end of the word without causing serious damage. TM has been living on ibuprofen for the last 2 weeks, due to back pain. The neurologist tendered good news - the problem is muscular only. On the downside, TM is taking muscle relaxants and must lay low for 3 weeks. TM does have permission to travel by bus after a week of bedrest.

Our friend, Micky, from Chiclayo contacted Marcial, a cousin in Lima, who is now making sure we find our way around Lima with no hassles. How lucky we are! Marcial is a taxi-driver in Lima. As it turns out, Lima is huge and spreads out in all directions. The center is surrounded by hundreds of thousands of people in squatter settlements made up of migrants from the rest of Peru. What better escort than a taxi-driver? Marcial helped us check out various accommodations, found a neurologist for us, took us there, drove us to our first tourist destination, and made sure we wanted for nothing.

Central Lima contains a concentration of gorgeous colonial art and architecture. The Plaza Mayor is spectacular, with it's elaborate stonework and wooden balconies. In the colonial era, the sides of these balconies were made of wooden slats - behind which women could sit and view the activity on the square, without being seen.

We saw the longest wooden balcony in Peru in Lambayeque. We saw the oldest wooden balcony in Peru in Trujillo. But those in Lima were extraordinarily ornate and well-maintained. Driving through the streets of Lima was a contrast in griminess and grand architecture. I caught this beautiful facade on a random corner as we drove through town.

After spending some time with one of my guidebooks, Tom has decided on a breed to replace Milo-The-Wonder-Dog. They are called the Peruvian hairless. They have been around for at least 4000 years, but were only recently recognized as a distinct breed. Although I'm fairly sure it is the ugliest breed I have ever seen, I am giving it the benefit of the doubt and only asserting that it is the second ugliest breed I have ever seen. They are pretty much hairless, except for a few hairs on the top of their head. This makes them look like chemotherapy patients to me.

Many of them also have pink blotches on their skin, which reminds me of some kind of skin infection or maybe places where large scabs just peeled off. Update: Marcial located some 6-day old puppies that were totally cute.

The Peruvian hairless has some remarkable qualities. They have a high body temperature. They can provide relief to those suffering from rheumatism after being tucked under the covers with them. They are also purported to cure asthma in children. One source says the Moche considered them guardians of the dead. The Inca nobility also kept them as pets. Marcial tells us that when winter comes to Lima, they need clothing to stay warm. If we jump through all the hoops and successfully take one home with us, maybe we'll have to turn down the air conditioning at night. With that thought in mind, I'm finding the breed looking more and more beautiful.

Lima also has some fabulous museums. Although they preserve and present the magnificent archaeological heritage of Peru, my mood was such that I was most taken with a series of illustrated diagrams in the National Archaeological Museum, describing the various racial mixtures as defined several centuries ago. There were actually laws passed concerning these racial divides. Unfortunately, I did not have my camera with me. Afterwads, I searched the internet for more info. Interestingly, different countries had different schemes. And, within Peru, the definitions varied slightly depending on the time period.

Mestizo: Spanish and Indian

Cholo: Mestizo and Indian

Negro: African Black

Mulato: Spanish and Negro

Zambo: Negro and Indian

Chino: Zambo and Indian

Cuarterón de Chino: Spanish and Chino

Cuarterón de Mestizo: Spanish and Mestizo

Cuarterón de Mulato: Spanish and Mulato

Note that we now say indigenous rather than Indian. Chino means Chinese - so somehow you get a Chinese when Blacks and Indians mix. The classifications below get even stranger. I don't remember seeing these at the museum, so perhaps they are from a different time period or location. Lobo means wolf. I would translate "Salta Atrás" as "Jump Back". "No te entiendo" means "I don't understand you". Wouldn't it be appropriate if, on the many forms we fill out that ask for race, someone put "I don't understand you". After reviewing all these definitions, one immediate observation is that the concept of race is pretty much an invention.

Salta Atrás: Chino and Indian

Lobo: Salta Atrás and Mulato

Jíbaro: Lobo and Chino

Albarazado: Jíbaro and Mulato

Cambujo: Albarazado and Negro

Zambaigo: Cambujo and Indian

Calpamulato: Zambaigo and Lobo

Tente en el aire: Calpamulo and Cambujo

No te entiendo: Tente en el aire and Mulato

Torna atrás: No te entiendo and Indian

If the collateral damage of such a classification scheme weren't so horrid and unjust, it would be comical. Such definitions, if taken to their logical conclusion, would never end.

We are staying at the very-comfortable HomePeru. It is a bit of a sanctuary in the heart of Miraflores, an upscale Lima neighborhood. In addition to the large sitting rooms with comfy couches and ancient artifacts, we have a free wireless connection. In Lima, when I wake up at 2 in the morning and can't go back to sleep, I schlep downstairs with the laptop and get up-to-date on the latest medical research or technology advances. The hotel is located 2 short blocks from some ruins that aren't in any of my guidebooks - Huaca Pucllana. The bricks are turned on their sides, unlike any other huaca we've seen. And it's BIG. It is immediately surrounded on all sides by a residential neighborhood. I wonder what valuable artifacts the kids bring inside after playing in the backyard.

Computer Woes, Trujillo, Peru

2005-03-04T08:15:00.000-08:00

Diane: We left Chiclayo two days ago. The night before we left, our computer decided to take a nose-dive to the netherworld. It would not boot. It appeared to stop booting, when attempting to load the graphics driver and then went black. Although we are traveling with backup copies of almost all the software I've installed on the system, I somehow brought with me the operating system (OS) and utility disks from our previous laptop. We were pretty much grounded. I called the U.S. manufacturer, even though it appeared to be a software problem. Using a local copy of an OS installation disk and acting on their instructions, we ended up with a system that continuously installed the OS at each boot-up, only to hang soon thereafter.

Instead of a tranquil morning bus ride to Trujillo, I left that night feeling a bit jangled. I was leaving a city to which I had grown attached. I had a sleek new boat-anchor in the form of a laptop. And TM's continuous back ache was starting to worry me.

We were all reluctant to reformat the hard drive. I seemed to be the most agitated about it, so I spent the day today going from one internet cafe to another in search of an an OS installation disk and CD keys. I was hoping that someone might let me borrow an installation CD to see if I could boot to the point where I could replace the bad driver. Everybody was willing to help me, but for the most part, these internet cafes operate with pirated software. As far as I could tell, they hire technical help to install everything, get it going, and provide maintenance; but, they never actually buy much of the software. So, if the technician wasn't around, there weren't any installation disks either.

At the 6th internet cafe I tried, a beautiful young woman was running the shop. The place was crawling with pre-teen boys all playing various computer games. They were making constant demands on her time and she handled them all with grace, charm, and a warm smile. You could tell she liked kids even though they argued about how much time they had left on the computer, how much money they owed her, and when the next station would be available. In addition, since most of the internet shops here keep a gate locked at all times, she was responsible for using a key to escort everyone in and out of the shop. Amidst this frantic level of activity, if someone came in to buy a blank CD or copy one, she took time out for that. She was a one-woman beehive of activity.

Amazingly, she made time for me. As it turned out, she was the technician for this shop. Her first question to me, after I described my problem was whether or not I had a 2nd partition on the hard drive. That was the right question! I was now in awe of this young woman. She was born and raised in Trujillo in Peru, a country in the heartland of South America, a continent known for its machismo world view. As it turns out, she was toward the end of completing a University degree in computer technology. There was currently one other woman in her degree program. If I understood correctly, her group started with 150 students. I can only imagine what double standards she had faced and scared down. Several hours after arriving, I left with an installation CD, a system that would boot (yay), but would not let me login (boo).

I arrived back at our guesthouse, dispirited and unhappy. Tom, on the other hand, was bright and invigorated after a morning visit to the Huaca de la Luna, which provided amazing examples of pre-Incan relief work with the original centuries-old paint still intact!

Each successive king constructed a new set of adobe walls directly on top of the previous set of walls, thus preserving the paint over the centuries. None of the paint has been restored, just cleaned.

The guide at Huaca de la Luna evidently had a lot of details concerning what was involved in human sacrifices there. Unlucky prisoners and sacrificial virgins were brought to the courtyard in the photo below. Priests and their attendants held them, cut their throats, and collected their blood in a golden cup. Still steaming, the cup was carried into the temple for a priest to drink. Another good story, but who really knows?

With the after-glow of this amazing site still illuminating his consciousness, Tom took over the computer restoration efforts and decided to reinstall the OS using only the default settings and the CD key found on the CD. Since all of the OS installation disks here default to Spanish, I had changed the defaults in order to install an OS that would "speak" English to us. I thought reinstalling was a waste of time, but Tom was in good spirits, and took on the task. Good thing too. Within an hour, he was able to login. The rest, although time consuming, is history.

Chimu Ruins, Trujillo, Peru

2005-03-03T08:05:00.000-08:00

Diane: Today, we enjoyed the ruins in and around Trujillo. Due to the late discovery of several tombs near Chiclayo and the painstaking excavation work, the Chiclayo-area museums house a splendid collection of artwork found at these sites. The same can not be said of the ruins themselves. Typically all that is left are huge mounds of mud-covered bricks that must have been indistinguishible from the surrounding hills, when they were recently found. On the other hand, in Trujillo, the passage of time has been a bit gentler on the adobe sites. Perhaps it is a bit drier here or perhaps the El Niño phenomena have not been as fierce over the centuries.

Trujillo was the center of Chimú culture from about 900 A.D. to 1470 A.D. The first Chimú site we visited was Huaca Arco Iris (Rainbow Pyramid), built around 1200 A.D. The walls were covered in relief. In its heyday, the whole thing was painted yellow. Even as few as 20 years ago, it was possible to see some of the yellow tint from the original paint. But the intervening El Niños put an end to that. Michael, from the Casa Clara guesthouse where we are staying, was our first English-speaking guide since the Galapagos many months ago. As we stood in front of one of many highly-decorated walls, he explained the symbolism, cultural details, and many possible interpretations of what was in front of us.

The most obvious interpretation of the parallel curved lines is a rainbow. However, there is an alternate explanation, that parallel lines are a symbolic representation of a serpent. At either end of the rainbow/serpent are two human figures. Underneath are two lizard-like figures. Sea otters create a border around the entire scene. One overall interpretation is that of a rain dance. Another is that of a fertility ritual. Another way to look at this wall is as three layers, representing the heavens, land, and the sea. Take your pick.

Another area has stylized birds and cats repeated over and over. They didn't look much like birds or cats to me, so I have trouble identifying them in my photos.

The pair above has what looks like a tumi hanging between them. The tumi was a round broad knife that all the museums indicate was used for decapitation. Today I learned that the common people used smaller and larger versions of tumis for everyday tasks.

On the next level there are small square rooms, each with a square hole in the middle of the floor. Archaeologists guess that these were storage areas, perhaps for items used in religious ceremonies. Looking down from above, they gave me the feeling of holding cells. Since the rooms have no doors for entry or exit, most explanations seem implausible.

Huaca Arco Iris is entirely surrounded by a 6-meter thick adobe wall. With such dramatic protection, it must have been an important site in its time. Even so, it was eventually forgotten/abandoned and entirely covered by sand.

The next set of ruins we visited was Chan Chan, the largest adobe city in the world. Chan Chan was a sculpted and painted adobe city surrounded by a 25' tall wall. It was composed of palaces, patios, passageways,

terraces, towers, gardens, homes, mauseleums, ramps, a huge well (a big surprise in such desert surroundings),

and ceremonial centers. In the entry area, the interior walls are decorated with reliefs of sea otters - lots of sea otters - a fertility symbol.

Another common motif in Chan Chan was that of diamond-shaped fishing nets. Whole walls are made to look like such nets.

Our guide told us that when he takes groups of French tourists around this net area, someone always asks if the Chimú didn't use these walls to store things. From their cultural bias, they see the potential for large areas devoted to wine storage. Of course, we all bring such biases to our analysis of these ancient buildings and artifacts. We have yet to see one Peruvian museum or archaeological site that gives a coherent explanation of the items on display. Guidebooks help, but pale in comparison to the numerous competing theories that have arisen to explain these "lost civilizations". Understanding such cultures, that have no accompanying written language, or even classifying them, requires as much imagination as analysis. And our biases probably make it impossible to come up with a correct analysis.

There are conscientious efforts aimed at preservation as well as restoration at Chan Chan. For instance, the tops of many walls have been capped with a protective cement-like layer that looks a bit like adobe, but does not let water in. This will protect the site from turning into mud mounds. Some areas have permanent canopies hanging over them. Many areas that are currently under excavation are totally cordoned off.

The Chimú were also into human sacrifice. There was a relatively recent discovery that came with the 1983 El Niño rains. These rains uncovered two adolescent sacrificial victims. It is possible that there are hundreds of such victims buried in the same area. Archaeologists believe that at the back of the royal palace compound, the royal tomb is surrounded by niches where more sacrifice victims were placed.

In its glory days, Chan Chan housed an estimated 30,000-60,000 people. It is located a couple of kilometers from the ocean, which we could hear clearly even from that distance. Although the tombs were once filled with precious gold and silver objects, they have been continuously looted over the centuries starting with the Incas in the 1500s. It is a wonder that such a large city prospered in the middle of a desert. I also wonder whether the large spaces dedicated to ceremonial uses demonstrate the importance of religion to the Chimú or whether they were merely a display of power or a form of control.

At this point in my archaeological explorations of Northern Peru, even without having seen the glories of Machu Picchu or the Nasca Lines, I think Peru needs a specialty license plate with the slogan "Peru: One Big Dig".

A Day In The Country, Peru

2005-02-24T06:23:00.000-08:00

Diane:

We visited the sugar cane fields owned and operated by Mickey's father. The visit was a family affair. They closed their restaurant, packed what I thought was a picnic lunch and off we went in the pickup. Two days before, we had had an unlucky urban encounter with the pickup. It was parked one block away from our hostal on a main street with plenty of people around. In the half hour it took us to gather our belongings, someone removed the left rear wheel and rolled off down the street with it. Tom stayed with the pickup, while Mickey and I went in search of a replacement. Tom said that in our absence, a man bicycled up to the car as if he were about to do something to it, but when he saw Tom, he turned around and went back in the direction he came from. In Cuenca, everybody with a car parked it in a garage, or behind a locked gate. This was another lesson in security for us: if you have a car, invest in and use wheel locks.

The work day in the fields had started by 6:00 a.m. As I understood it, they would go until 1:00 a.m. the next morning. Everybody was working hard when we arrived.

We came in down a long sandy series of unmarked, probably unnamed roads through the desert. It did not look like a promising location for a farm. But for the miracle of irrigation. In addition to the bags of fertilizer we were already carrying and ourselves, we picked up various pedestrians along the way. This is probably a hallmark of existence here - people helping each other out.

There was a small house on the property where the supervisor lived with his family. Mickey's father was the godfather of their son. As the day wore on, I thought about the lack of a support structure for parenting in a remote area such as this. Over the course of the day, I saw this 4 year old pick up two full-size axes and play with them in the sand - while his mother was watching. She also gave him a box of matches; he lit one and then lunged at his newfound playmate (Tom) with it. All under mother's watchful eye. She doesn't have a local library from which she could pick up a parenting book now and then. She doesn't have an opportunity to check with the other day-care Moms or child-care professionals at the end of the day. What support system does she have to improve her parenting skills?

In any event, she was kind to us. She let Mickey's mother use her kitchen to put together a wonderful hot meal - no picnic here!

There were lots of animals around the house - ducks, ducklings, guinea pigs, cows, pigs, dogs. At the end of the day, TM went for a short horseback ride.

There were also some fruit trees and an avocado tree. On the other side of the irrigation ditch, there were sweet potatoes, corn, and beans growing. They definitely have the basics of what they need to eat well. But the primary action here was the sugar cane.

Sugar cane takes 18 months to establish and produce its first harvest. For a couple of years after that, there's a crop every 3 months. I didn't see anything in the way of farm equipment lying around, so I can only surmise that they use labor-intensive practices. Mickey's father took some time off the job to share some of his thoughts about the business of growing sugar cane.

I was impressed that he uses biological pest controls. It was an easy choice, because they are inexpensive. He lived through the devastation caused by the 1983 El Niño, which wiped out his fields. Since then, he has lived in Lima and he has been an entrepreneur with six stores in the region, but he has by choice returned to farming. Generally people migrate from rural areas to urban ones. But, here is someone who returned to the land, knowing full well the trials and tribulations. During his first crop after he returned to farming, a dam upstream from there broke and remained broken for months. During that time, there was insufficient water for irrigation and he lost his newly planted fields.

We finished the day at the beach, body surfing in the wild waves. This is the third beach we have visited, since arriving in Northern Peru. At first, I didn't want to bother going, since most beaches pale in comparison to those in Sarasota. But unlike Sarasota, the surf all along this coast is great fun and I've been having a blast.

The farm is only a couple of miles from the beach. Mickey let both his younger brother and TM have a turn driving the pickup there and back. It was a manual transmission, so for TM, this also involved a driving lesson. TM was brimming with excitement at this opportunity. He was so excited that he shifted into gear just as I was hopping out of the bed onto the rear tire to get a close-up shot of a periguey (half goat/half sheep).

The road led to a very small, depressed-looking beach community. The beach itself was wide, soft, and unpopulated. Tom spent most of the time talking with Mickey's mother, while the rest of us bounced and floated around the crashing waves. Mickey's mother grew up in the area. When she was young, this used to be a fishing village. The fish were so plentiful, that locals could live off the fish they caught with casting nets - they didn't even need boats. Now there are almost no fish.

The people here don't know why. Perhaps there are commercial fishing operations that have wiped out local fish populations. Or maybe some critical corner of the marine ecosystem here was traumatized and is unable to heal itself. Or perhaps it's the result of the general die-off happening in all the world's oceans.

I know "life is unfair". We tell the kids this all the time. But, we're usually talking about the small stuff. Then there are the big ticket items. People here, with few resources and no security blanket to fall back on have to contend with El Niño phenomena wiping out roads and farms; with irrigation meltdowns; with entire fish populations disappearing. It is overwhelming to me and I am only a visitor.

For its part, the beach provided us a safe haven with its miles of open sand and sand cliffs. At first, we shared it with a large group of young men, who came to play soccer and play in the water. When they left, we had it all to ourselves.

Back at the farm, we were treated to hot lemon-grass tea to warm up our water and wind cooled bodies. We have stayed in Chiclayo far longer than anticipated due to the friendship and generosity that Miguel and his family have shown us.

Zaña, Peru

2005-02-19T23:18:00.000-08:00

Diane: Zaña was a well-to-do colonial town in the 1500's, perhaps the most wealthy in all of Peru at the time. Today the ruins of the most prominent churches are all that remain of the town's former opulence. You can tell they must have been humdingers!

Early in Colonial times, the Spanish brought in African slaves to work on sugar plantations, who retained some significant part of their culture. Perhaps due to their different customs, the rest of the country came to think of Zañans as being morally corrupt. Or perhaps, their wealth led to a moral decline. Although there is disagreement on this, it is clear that an El Niño came through in 1720, flooding the town and leaving it in ruins. It was popularly thought of as a divine punishment for their evil ways.

Interestingly, the Sicán people had a similar legend. According to the legend, the last Naymlap king committed a series of sins culminating in a great flood. The facts are that the Sicán people abandoned their capital in 1050 A.D. and built an even larger one in Túcume. Perhaps the floods of an El Niño phenomenon led to their desire for a new location for the capital. As with Zaña, the legend blames the flood on immoral behavior.

Just outside of Zaña, we walked to some Pre-Incan ruins. There hasn’t been much interest from archaeologists in the site, so for all we know, it could be an unstudied civilization. Perhaps it too was disrupted by El Niño floods. All that is left are some walls constructed from adobe bricks.

And a huge number of huaquero (grave-robber) holes. The whole area is an enormous checkerboard of square holes.

There are pottery shards littering the area. Both TM and Tom spent some time sifting the sand to see what they could find. Tom found some decorated ceramic fragments. TM found what looked like copper or bronze depilatory tweezers like the ones we saw in nearby museums and a lot of shells. Note the dirty fingers and dusty jeans.

Micky and I checked out some of the cactus and cactus fruit growing nearby.

We then turned our attention to some huge, hopping beehives. The bees formed a thick blanket on the plants they chose for their hives. Unfortunately, a few of the bees turned their attention back toward us.

Extraordinary Museums, environs of Chiclayo, Peru

2005-02-18T16:44:00.000-08:00

Diane: The Moche culture flourished here from 100 A.D. to 750 A.D. Not much was known about this civilization until recently. Huaqueros (grave-robbers is a loose translation) found the pyramid-tomb of the Lord of Sipán and were quickly emptying it of its valuable gold objects and selling them overseas. After hundreds of years of near-continuous looting up and down Peru's coast, this tomb from the 3rd century had remained undisturbed until 1987. Once the archaeologists were called in, they were able to stop the illegal removal of artifacts and begin a meticulous excavation of this tomb.

The structures were several stories high, composed of millions of adobe bricks, and had collapsed for the most part. Many items were found crushed, but in place. Putting ornaments, clothing, and skeletons back together was a mammoth job. And the funeral rituals that the tomb revealed were horrific, if you ask me. An extraordinary museum, Museo Tumbas Reales Sipán, exhibits the high quality, crafted funerary objects, the layout of the tombs, and the monumental efforts required during the excavation. The museum does a magnificent job, but it took effort on my part to distract my attention from the fact that seven people were murdered and buried alongside the Big Kahuna.

So, what did they find? First off there were a thousand ceramic pots with food to make the journey to the next world. Below that was a guard sacrificed to protect the Lord. His feet were cut off, to "symbolically" prevent any dereliction of duty. The Lord of Sipán was buried in extreme ceremonial dress with huge gold-and-turquoise earrings, breastplates of precious spondylus shell beads strung together, a necklace of gold spheres, a necklace of gold and silver peanut-shells, a gold scepter showing human sacrifices, and other paraphernalia. There were lots of semi-precious stones. It was lavish - up there with the funerary objects found with King Tut. Surrounding the Lord of Sipán were the other human sacrifices, including 3 young women, a child, a military general, 2 llamas, and a dog.

The archaeologists uncovered 10 other tombs. An earlier tomb housed the "Old" Lord of Sipán. The craftwork in his tomb was amazing. A high priest also had his own tomb. These tombs showed that the Moche were really big on hierarchy. The kings, priests, and military leaders were highly memorialized and their images enshrined on murals and ceramics throughout their territory. The Lord of Sipán, himself, held sway in all three realms, as the civil, religious, and military leader.

A lot of the artwork depicted prisoners, military leaders, deities, and decapitations. They were big on depicting prisoners and decapitations. They even had a specialized weapon, a tumi, which was used for decapitating people.

Update: We visited the actual Sipán site toward the end of our stay in Chiclayo. What political jockeying must have gone on to build the museum with all the actual artifacts so far away from the excavation site. What is left of these vast adobe structures are now mere mud mountains surrounded by fields.

Another impressive civilization was the Sicán (or Lambayeque). Their influence lasted from 750 A.D. to 1375 A.D. Some royal Sicán tombs weren't discovered until 1991. And so there is another impressive museum, Museo Sicán. The museum explains two tombs. One tomb has the king buried in a deep vertical shaft upside down with his decapitated head placed in front of him. He was surrounded by (+/-)20 murdered young women to meet his needs in the next life. In addition there was more than a ton of metal objects, including lots of gold.

The Sicán made distinctive masks that were stolen and are now located in private collections the world over.

We took an open-air taxi ride further down the road to the dry forest reserve where these tombs were found. One algorrobo tree in this reserve is believed to be 800 years old. Shamans believe it has healing properties and conduct ceremonies here. We hung out there for a short time, soaking up its essence.

The forest itself was amazing, in that it grew out of the sand in an area that receives very little rain. It was also depressing. Although a protected reserve, local people continue to cut trees for firewood and dig around the pyramid sites hoping to steal a bit of their country's archaeological heritage. As we walked we passed people with loads of wood on their backs, on their bicycles, and on their burros walking down the primary access road in and out of the park. We did not hear a peep from a park ranger.

In addition to these extraordinary tombs, a great legacy of the Sicán culture was their ceramic, metal, and irrigation technologies. They were the first to produce bronze objects in northern Peru. They used moulds to make ceramic containers. They also were very successful in bringing irrigation to this desert area - cultivating more land than is in cultivation today.

I had heard of neither the Moche nor the Sicán cultures, before reading about them in my guidebook. I don't know anyone who has visited these world-class museums, but they are truly a find. Since many of these areas are still under excavation, there is still a lot left to learn. I must admit that I am glad I did not live in those times. With no definitive explanations, an extrapolation of their burial practices reveals two brutal cultures. Of course I pretty much feel the same way about all the major, long-gone cultures of Mexico and points south in the Americas including the Spanish.

Pimentel, Peru

2005-02-13T09:12:00.000-08:00

TM: I'll sum up my day:
I went to the beach, walked around, got stared at, went swimming, and didn't realize that I had burned myself so thouroughly that I am going to have to grow an entire new epidermis until I got home. I put on sunblock too. Shoot. At least I have moisturizer.

Meh.

Update on the count situation:
I am afraid I will have to start two new counts, after sevral experiences of yesterday and today.

Heloooo Count: 9

New - Salute count. Last night, I went out for dinner with my family to a pizza place. There was a kid at the table close to ours, and the family was just leaving. The mom made her kid stop pointing(even though I just smiled) but, as they were leaving, he turned to me, stood up straight, and saluted. Saluted, as in put his hand to his forehead and saluted me. Then, this afternoon, some guy on the street did the same thing, only he had a pepsi bottle in his hand. He used it to salute, and when I waved back, he nodded and drank deeply. Weird.

Salute Count: 2

Finally, my least favorite. The dreaded Harry Potter recognitions have started again. I wouldn't think that people would associate me with him, considering how my hair looks right now(when I get a chance, I'll try and post a pic. I look hilarious). Anyway, three seperate made comments relating to Harry Potter and me since last night. I find it frustrating, but it could be worse. I think I'll get a hair cut.

Harry Potter Count: 3

I really like it here. I think it is much better than Cuenca. Better weather, better people, and I like the way the city is laid out. Yeah...

Valentines day tommorow. Not an important holiday here, as giving flowers and chocolate and kisses is something that Miguel tells me is normal. So, instead, they celebrate late into the night with meat and partying in the streets.

I had a great time at the beach, body surfing. It was awesome.

I'll see yall later.

Welcome to Chiclayo, Land of the Novelty Horn, Peru

2005-02-12T09:05:00.000-08:00

TM: After 15 straight hours of riding on buses and waiting in stations, we arrived in the small Peruvian town of Chiclayo, renowned for its strange horns and small buildings. They can't build more than 6 stories high because if they do, the buildings will weigh too much and sink into the aquifer and stuff. Also, big supports driven into the ground create springs. Anyway, this place is steamy hot, and it reminds me of Florida with about half the humidity. It is a really nice place, I like it here. Also, I can speak Spanish pretty fluently, and my mom said that today during lunch she heard me give the longest discourse she has ever heard. This was because when she tried to talk, I just kept on going, unlike I usually do, which is let her grab hold of the conversation. And I described, without knowing the sceintific word, what stem cells are to our friend here, Miguel. He is an awesome guy, lemme tell you. He is just a lot of fun to be around.

Some conclusions I have reached in the last few days:
1) People here are generally more alive and know how to have fun much better than in the States. I am going to take what I learn here and try to show it to my friends when I return. I mean, even at Rowe, where people were much more into living life to the fullest, I think only Carlos really had what I am talking about. Go figure.
2) When I get back to the states, I must make EVERY EFFORT not to fall back into my old routine and to change my life. I don't want to return to the sedentary lifestyle I lead before, and I don't want to fall back into the stagnant and reflectionless pool of the internet. I WILL CHANGE!
3)I think, after seeing the exhibits in the Museums here, that if the Spaniards hadnt come over, that South America would be the one dominant power in the world right now. Their technological innovations and ideas were really quite advanced for the amount of time the ancient cultures had to develope. It is quite interesting.

In other news, it would appear my ass is a hot comodity here. I am going to start a count. A count of the number of "Hellooo"s and Hissing indrawn breaths I get. So far, its 5.

Count: 5

I never realized before I came here that I might actually be attractive, but then my dad mentioned to me that I have in fact been asked out by two seperate girls in the States, and that that had never happened to him. I dunno if it is a common occurance nowadays, but it made me feel better about going home to relative nondesript-ness. That is, other than my flamboyant personality, which has hyperthophied in SA due to repression (being flamboyant while it sounds like your toung is tied in a knot is bad). I just never thought about girls much before. Or, I did, but I kept it so well hidden from myself that it took falling head over heels in love to open it up again. And here, for a while I tried to bottle it up again. NO MORE! I will now, instead of being a yellow chicken bastard, talk to girls who smile at me. I will take the first step. Because it is the exact opposite of what my instincts tell me to do, and it scares me. Because I know it is good. Go me.

Diane: Although Chiclayo is a significantly smaller city than Cuenca, the energy of the city pulses more forcefully here. In Cuenca, with a population of 300,000-500,000 depending on whom you believe, we used to joke that there were really only 100 people residing there. On a given day, as I made my way from the apartment to my Spanish class to lunch and beyond, I would always bump into somebody I knew. I believe I encountered every acquaintance at some point while out walking. And if you smiled at people you didn't know, they usually smiled back.

In Chiclayo there are more people concentrated in the city center. As a result, it is quite crowded most of the day. The sidewalks seem even narrower than in Cuenca. If two of us are walking side-by-side, there is no room for anyone else to get by. There are no buses in the center; consequently, there are tons of taxis. Each taxi has its own unique horn signal. Some are musical; some are more insistent; some sound more like car alarms; and I'm fairly sure that some started life as clown horns. Crossing the street is even worse than in Cuenca (who woulda thunk it). With fewer traffic lights and nobody having the right of way, the fearless pedestrian must brazenly thread their way through the unpredictable stop-and-go traffic. It's sort of like having 4-way stops at each intersection, but without the traffic conventions that generally govern them. Mindful chaos rules.

Rarely do people smile at me as I pass by. I don't think it has anything do with unfriendliness. People are just moving at a faster pace and they have to pay attention if they don't want to get run over. On the other hand, more people seem to talk, point, and stare at Calliope as we pass. For the most part I can't understand them, but Calliope seems to have perfect comprehension for this babble.

Although Calliope gets quite a bit of unwanted attention, TM is even more of a target. I had no idea that young women were making comments about him as we passed, until Miguel told me what one or two of them said. I'm now tuned in to some of the other dynamics. For instance, the street vendors who approach us when TM is around are more likely to be women. They come back multiple times with the same goods. I don't think they are so much interested in a sale as in getting a good look at TM.

The main plaza is always full of people and activity. Adding to the general hubbub, there is a sidewalk alongside where men thrust calculators in our faces. I couldn't figure out why they thought I would want to buy a calculator from them. Is a calculator an essential travel item for foreign tourists? Today, after listening to what they were saying, I realized that they were offering to exchange currency for us. Some were even speaking English, but I hadn't recognized it as such.

Our lodgings are at the top of a fifth floor walk-up. We share this perch with several vultures.

With them we get a bird's eye view of the town surrounding us. The only buildings higher than this are a couple of prominent churches and a new-fangled hotel. Evidently, buildings sink into the sand, when they get too tall.

Speaking of sand, northern coastal Peru is a desert land, which only greens up on its own during the rains that come with an El Niño phenomenon. El Niño also causes severe flooding, which can wipe out roads, entire cities, and probably whole civilizations. Diane's theory of why there is so little known about the many ancient cultures of Northern Peru is that the wholesale destruction caused by El Niño left locals overwhelmed with the search for a new homeland and very little for archeologists to work with.

I miss the wonderful, rich soups of Ecuador. But, I love the generous, dry heat here. I have exchanged the confines of my sweatshirt for the freedom of sandals and a tank top. And, I'm considering letting down my Spanish-study discipline and engaging in the decadent act of reading a novel written in English.

Miscellaneous Memories from Cuenca, Ecuador

2005-02-09T09:32:00.000-08:00

Diane: We head out for Peru today. We are meeting a new acquaintance, Miguel, at the bus station at 11:00 pm tonight to head down to Chiclayo, Peru together. To me it seems an almost impossible coincidence, but Miguel is from Chiclayo and is heading back the same day we are.

We've lived in Cuenca for about four and a half months, in a city filled with quirks and charms, most of which I have not mentioned here. For example, the traditional clothing of the local women includes delicately sewn blouses, brightly colored, embroidered, flared skirts, and a particular style of hat. You see variations on this style everywhere from the markets to the banks.

I also love the mix of old and new.

Ice cream and various forms of popsicles are very popular in Cuenca. Although there are national brands of ice cream widely available, many small Mom-and-Pop shops make their own. Some are chunkier; some have more flavor; some are creamy. On our pedestrian commute into the Historic Center each day, we generally take a route that leads over a bridge and up a beautiful stone staircase. Half a block from the top of the stairs is my favorite home-made cocoanut ice cream. Additionally, on a sunny day, there are always mobile "Bon Ice" vendors on the ready. They wear colorful blue and pink uniforms and do tons of business.

Other street vendors congregate around special events or schools and churches when they let out, selling candy apples, this creamy stuff plopped on top of an ice cream cone (that, thankfully, I managed to avoid), plantain chips, seasonal fruit, and other munchies.

My favorite street vendors sell blow-up beach toys during special events

The interior of Cuenca's New Cathedral is in my view the most beautiful of any in Ecuador. Having only seen a handful of churches, I really have no basis to make this statement, but I'm willing to go out on a limb here. According to one source, the finished marble in the columns and floors was all hand cut and polished - no machinery was used.

The exterior of the New Cathedral does not do justice to its interior grandeur. Its domes are an unmistakeable landmark, visible from almost any corner of the city, except right in front of it.

Also right in front of the New Cathedral was the unforgettable "Sweater Tree". When we arrived, a sweater in bright pink and red had been knitted around a prominent tree. I surmised that it was to keep the tree warm, but in fact it was purely decorative. The sweater is gone now, but not forgotten.

On the other side of the park is the Supreme Court of Azuay, an impressive and stately edifice that has been updated to meet the changing needs of the court building. Most of the office space has been converted to cubicles with the infrastructure for telephones, computers, and lights exposed. The interior is an eyesore compared with the magnificent stonework outside and in the entryway and courtyard as you enter.

Many buildings in the Historic Center are dilapidated to the point of falling down. Some have been restored. Many architectural styles are present. Due to the extensive permitting process and funding required to renovate, many owners of architectural gems have opted to turn their first floors into parking spaces. This is indeed a sad state of affairs. The citizens here take great pride in their center, so I have confidence that this will turn around. One of the things I love about the center are the cobblestone streets and the gorgeous stones holding up buildings and holding down sidewalks.

We live across the river from the Historic Center. The bridge closest to our apartment is of the non-descript sort, but its stonework does add character.

On the other side of the bridge are the ruins of Tomebamba, the old city of the Incas. A statue of the Incan leader, Huayna Capac, who extended the Incan Empire to its most northern limits stands at its edge. His sons engaged in a horrific civil war, which opened the way for the relatively easy Spanish conquest. The Spanish then looted the existing stonework to construct many of the historic buildings of Cuenca.

Back on this side of the bridge, we have a garden view from our bedroom window. The garden separates us from the main house.

The walls of our apartment are painted in bright colors.

We live in the blacksmith's neighborhood. It is officially part of the Historic District, but not in the center. I was confused by this at first, until I read that people used to ride to town and leave their horses at the edge of town. It was a convenient time and place to have their horses re-shoed and so a blacksmith area grew up just outside of town. Horses rarely come to town now, but there are still ironworkers busy at their trade. There is a museum dedicated to the fire arts as well. In front of it is a statue of the mighty Vulcan.

During one of the many city celebrations we witnessed, in front of the pillars dedicated to the many patrons of this museum, we saw some dramatic fire-breathing. It brought to mind the fires of the Burning Man Festival.

Down the road from this monument is a large city park, Parque Paraíso, that incorporates a bit of forest with a boardwalk, soccer fields in constant use, lots of shade, paddleboats, playground equipment, and many romantic spots for couples. There's one area with a down-sized replica of a city street complete with traffic signs. They use it to teach road-safety to children. We saw the symphony orchestra play here a couple of months ago.

Calliope's favorite street scene was the lingerie shops, their glass storefronts brimming with merchandise.

A couple of weeks ago, the city installed a ceramic mosaic map of the Historic Center on strategic walls where tourists are likely to hang out.

Farewell Cuenca - you have charmed us with your good looks, rich culture, kind residents, excellent Spanish teachers, and beautiful surroundings!

TM: I want to talk more about one of the least pleasant subjects of my life here in South America. Child labor. Next door to our house is a blacksmith's shop, and every morning when I walk by to go to school, I see the same kid(He cant be more than 15) working there. He is always covered in dirt of the black paint they use to cover the grills they make. I can't even look him in the eye. What could I say? What can I DO? It is always in the back of my mind. Nagging at me. How can I complain while this kid is working every day except Sundays without a single vacation, even during Christmas? I have it made. I really do. But I'm unhappy anway. Because, well, I guess I am used to better living and don't appreciate what I have. *Sigh*

Carnaval, Cuenca, Ecuador

2005-02-08T09:31:00.000-08:00

Diane: We have survived a very short Carnaval season. The season gets going just after the Day of the Innocents, January 6, and lasts through Ash Wednesday, which came early this year. Ecuadorians celebrate Carnaval by throwing water and other liquids at each other. In Thailand, where I participated in a water festival many years ago, it was unbearably hot, and it was a lovely tradition. But, in Cuenca, where it is cool year round and generally rainy in February, it makes no sense at all. And in Cuenca, they don't limit themselves to water; they throw oil, flour, cornmeal, and pig’s blood. Also in Cuenca, foreigners are considered fair game whether they want to play or not.

We extended our stay in Cuenca into February just so that the kids could celebrate Carnaval here with their friends. As it turns out, school has not been in session for the last couple of weeks, the major school party planned for this period was cancelled, and TM does not have sufficient water armaments to suit his taste.

Nonetheless, both TM and Calliope played Carnaval almost every day for the last week or two with the daycare kids and had a blast. The Bells (TM's fabulous host family when we first arrived) invited us over for a final farewell, providing yet another opportunity to spray and throw water. During the final week, TM never left home without water balloons filled with water. He lived dangerously, hiding them up his sleeves and in his pockets. He caught a lot of Cuencanos off guard. And yesterday, the kids actually met some of our neighbors! When armed with water balloons, you meet a lot of people you might not otherwise meet.

Calliope is left with a bittersweet taste of Carnaval in her mouth. Yesterday she walked through town to her Spanish school. Unfortunately her teacher didn't show up and the building was locked, which left her with nowhere to run for cover. All the old men and drunks in the park in front of the school, most of whom she had greeted as she passed by each day, took the opportunity to pelt her with water balloons. She was dripping wet from head to toe, while every other person in the park was desert dry. The injustice of being singled out as a target, when she obviously was not prepared to play Carnaval, left her furious. Luckily, after a good night's sleep she is willing to go outside again.

As for me, except for going out to lunch, I have stayed inside for the last two days. Most everybody respected my desire not to play Carnaval. Only one person ignored my pleas for abstention. Luckily it was the middle of the afternoon and sunny! I was dry and reasonably warm by the time I finished lunch.

TM: Goodbyes are hard. Carnaval was fun. I was excellent at avoiding being hit, either through artful dodging of thrown water or through not being in "high danger" zones. It was awesome. I started a water fight with 8 guys, and did fairly well. Did you know that I can carry up to 10 water balloons at once. At one point, one of em grabbed me from behind and they got me with a bucket, but on the whole it was a lot of fun. Oh, and my sister was there too. We must have used like 80 balloons total in one go. Amazing fun, it was. I unfortunately slipped and gashed my arm pretty bad. Well worth it though, and they invited me to a party at their house that night(which would have been awesome, the house is also a DJ studio and break-dance school), but I didnt get to go as I went out with Walter. He wanted to bring along a girl who he know from Guayaquil, but her mom insisted on coming with us, not feeling comfortable sending her daughter off with two boys. So, I didnt end up going, but I had a fun time with Walter instead. Yesterday as well. I pissed my parents off by coming back at 11 instead of 8, like I said I would, but I wanted to squeeze in as much time with him before I left as I could.I almost forgot to mention, I am leaving for Peru today at 11:45 pm. Wish me luck.I went around with him in his car yesterday, throwing water balloons(don't worry, we alwasys slowed down so as not to hurt the people we were throwing them at) and having a good number thrown at us. After we got out to talk to one of his friends(actually, her whole family) we had used up all the ballons, and a truck drove by and drenched me with a bucket. The first and only time I was hit with water by someone who I didn't know and who I didnt see coming. It wasnt that bad either. I only got a little wet.I will miss Cuenca. I will miss the Bell family.I miss my friends. They have all diappeared. Or so it seems. .

Carnaval: It Begins, Cuenca Ecuador

2005-02-04T08:57:00.000-08:00

TM: So, today I feel like crap. We are leaving Cuenca this coming Wed., and worse, I have a sore throat.

In addition, I didnt have a chance to say good-bye to my class in Benigno Malo, because they don't get back to school until the 14th. I went and played chess, lost some and won some. God, it sucks not getting to say good-bye.

Carnaval is finally here. After this weekend and a little into next week, it'll be over. I have two water balloons in my pockets as I type this, and a water gun in another. I am prepared. I am ready.I am a target.Ironically, in spanish, the word for target is "blanca". This is also the word for white. Oh, sweet irony, you hit me in the face like a water balloon or a handful of white powder(which they also throw).

Trek from the Andes to the Jungle: Day 3

2005-02-02T08:49:00.000-08:00

Diane: At around 2 am, TM woke up saying that he felt violently ill. TM felt it was a stomach bug. We had all been eating and drinking exactly the same for the past 3 days, but only TM felt ill. Tom and I immediately thought - VERY high blood sugar. Since TM had been hiking all day yesterday, my expectation was for overnight low blood sugars. Indeed, he did have a high blood sugar, but nothing in the extraordinary range. Hmmm, a seeming contradiction. Sherlock, get out the magnifying glass, pipe, and slippers.

After a change of insulin cartridege, a bolus (dose) of insulin, an hour and a half, a trip to the outhouse, and a bout of vomiting, TM's blood sugar was still quite high. Tom forcefully suggested that TM change out his infusion set (the disposable supplies needed by the insulin pump). For TM, this is standard procedure, when he has not come up with a satisfactory explanation as to why his blood sugar has been this high, twice in a row. TM refused, arguing that if he had some kind of infection, that would explain his high blood sugars. Of course, an extended high blood sugar would explain why his thinking was cloudy and he was coming up with this alternative to the obvious explanation.

Trying to honor TM's desire for more autonomy, Tom and I acquiesced. TM gave himself an additional bolus of insulin and went back to sleep. So, here we were on a farm in rural Ecuador, a 5-hour walk from the nearest road. After two nights of almost no sleep, and 2 7-hour days of hiking down hilly, rocky terrain, I can't sleep. Of course, I am also trying to sleep on a wood floor with a thin foam sleeping pad. A little bit of physical discomfort plus a pinch of parental worry mixed with general insomnia equals no sleep for this exhausted hiker.

TM's next blood sugar reading is practically back to normal. This was totally unexpected. Since we had only waited an hour and 15 minutes since the insulin bolus, I would have expected a lower reading, but not a normal reading. I asked TM if he was sure that he had read that correctly. He clicked on his headlamp, rechecked his meter, and reported that all was well. This only made me more anxious. We have all the supplies we need, but I am concerned that I can't really explain TM's blood sugar readings over the last 15 hours or so.

I wake TM up an hour later and ask him to take another blood sugar reading. It is higher than it has been all night. There is obviously some major glitch with the insulin delivery and perhaps with the glucometer. TM changes out all the pump supplies. I am already relieved and I actually manage to sleep for half an hour. I wake up in time to wake TM for his next blood sugar reading. It was coming down to normal.

TM woke up, exhausted and feeling ill. His blood sugar was now on the low side, but he refused to come over to the kitchen for a meal. He didn't think he could walk out to the road today, so our guide, Linder suggested that we use his horse for the hike out. I felt so thankful that a horse was available. After getting TM's blood sugar back up to normal, we let him sleep and joined Linder for a guided tour of his orchid research area.

There are over 300 types of orchids growing in the small stand of trees beside the house. Linder had collected them all relatively nearby, at the right altitude, ensuring that the climate would be proper to support their growth and propagation. Although I had taken a quick walk through yesterday at dusk, I had only managed to spot one orchid in flower. With Linder, we saw many flowers of all shapes and sizes. Linder showed us how to pollinate an orchid. He showed us how to identify a terrestrial orchid. He even showed us an orchid that he had discovered. He had officailly named it Epidendrum Suinii, Suin being his last name.

Linder had planted the small woods about 5 years ago in order to provide the shade and foliage to eliminate the need for watering. He also surrounded each orchid plant with moss to help retain moisture. At this point, the only maintenance needed for 300 different orchids was to curtail the moss growth.

During the walk through the woods, I found a small stick lying on the ground, maybe a foot long. Even as a broken limb, every square centimeter was jam-packed full of colorful life.

We got a very late start just before noon, but I was confident that with a horse we would make it out in time to catch the last bus. Linder wasn't so confident and urged us on. Actually, he and everybody else was urging ME on. They seemed to think that I was walking too slow. Now, I do pretty much everything slow. I bicycle slow; I swim slow; I kayak slow. But without a backpack, I can walk pretty fast. However, today, when I tried to walk faster, I would slip in the wet areas, so from my perspective, I was walking plenty fast. After a couple of hours, nobody let me stop to look at any plants or take any pictures. After lunch, everybody, including TM urged me to ride the horse. TM felt that even in his state, he could walk faster than me. Not one to bow to peer pressure, I refused. I did finally relent, because I realized that we were going to miss the last bus at our current pace. After riding for a couple of minutes, I couldn't figure out why I had been so stubborn. I sat on the horse looking in all directions as we passed through some spectacular scenery. Everybody else was just hoofing it, or horse-shoe-ing it as the case may be.

We had another addition to the group today - Nelson. Nelson appeared to be about 10 years old. He was the mule's owner and accompanied us to our final destination.
As I sat on the horse, I started wondering about Nelson's life. Here it was a weekday and he wasn't in school. In Ecuador, we have seen quite a few children working long days with no opportunity to attend school. From what TM and Calliope tell me, many of the children in school don't care at all about their schoolwork. My thoughts were interrupted, when TM had a low blood sugar - no surprise there - and he was back on the horse. Fortunately, the downhill grade had lessoned and I had no trouble increasing my speed. Linder sent Nelson ahead to beg the bus driver not to leave before we arrived. I didn't really finish pondering Nelson's life and at that point, there wasn't an opportunity to ask him any questions.

When we arrived in La Florida, our final destination, Linder and Nelson took the horse and mule to one of Nelson's family's houses there. Both of them joined us on the bus to Gualaquiza. Once there, Linder made a visit to his Uncle's house to take a quick shower, Nelson disappeared, evidently to another of his family's houses, and we hopped on the night bus to Cuenca. Linder joined us on the bus and we all slept fitfully. We arrived in Cuenca at about 3 in the morning. We invited Linder to spend the wee hours at our apartment, until the first bus left for Jima. He declined saying that he had a small apartment here in Cuenca, which he intended to make use of.

This business of owning houses has really gotten confusing. Linder told us that a large portion of the population of Gualaquiza had another house in Cuenca, even though it was 6 hours away by bus. This may be one of those issues, where I need a good explanation in English to really understand.

The woods were beautiful, but due to our late start and slow pace, I have no pictures :-(

Trek from the Andes to the Jungle: Day 2

2005-02-01T08:39:00.000-08:00

Diane: After breakfast, our guide, Linder, showed us a Dragon's Blood tree. I had been offered this medicine in the markets of Cuenca, but I had no idea it came from a tree.

When Linder scratched the surface bark of the tree, a blood-colored sap oozed out.

When he rubbed the sap on his had, it turned a beigish color. Linder explained that when used this way, it helped stop bleeding and reduce scarring associated with a wound. I believe it is currently undergoing trials in the U.S.

The horses we used yesterday were not available today. Their owner had ridden from San Miguel de Cuyes to meet us yesterday and then walked with us back to his home.
We actually passed several of his homes. As I talk to more people, it becomes obvious that the lack of a road here creates a different way of thinking about property and home ownership. Most families have one house "in town" where they can buy and sell goods and another near their farm or where they graze their animals. Many have more depending on the work they do. This is a poor area, so owning so many houses is not really a measure of wealth, but rather a necessity. Yesterday as we drove the road from Jima, we passed a volunteer work crew composed of local farmers - men, women, and children, old and young. They were using shovels to level the torn-up road and create better drainage. As a group, they maintained a house near the road, so they would have a place to stay while doing road work.

Linder found a mule to carry our gear.

The mule's owner lived near the next town along the trail. Linder seems to know most everyone we pass along the way. Even so and even though almost everyone in this region keeps horses, there were none available for us. The kids would have to walk today.

Once on the trail, we passed by many cultivated areas as well as areas cleared for grazing. Generally, one or two large trees were left standing in these fields. Each tree maintained its small world of epiphytes, mosses, and lichen.

One such tree was so full of bomeliads, aft first I thought the tree was blooming.

As we walked, we learned more and more about Linder and his relationship to the area. As we crossed the river into Ganazhuma, the next tiny town along the way, Linder explained that he had attended 1st and 2nd grade in this town. The town held a small store, a building with Biblioteca (Libary) painted in large letters that held no books, a health center, a concrete soccer/basketball court, and a church. Linder explained that it had taken 114 mules to cart in the concrete mix needed for the soccer court. Luckily the town is adjacent to the river, and therefore, sand was readily available. Soccer is certainly a passion in Ecuador no matter how small the town.

Once outside of Ganazhuma, the number of butterflies increased dramatically. Large and small, they flitted about their business. They also gathered in groups, evidently when they found something good to eat or drink.

As we got closer to the orchid farm, Linder started talking about what to expect there. If there was no moon, we had a good chance of seeing lots of butterflies once it got dark. Just before we headed down the steep trail from the main path to the farm, he mentioned that his Dad was already there with his cows, but would be leaving for Jima in the morning. Linder was an orchid expert and this was his (family's) orchid farm!

The kitchen was in the old house. Linder's father had built a stove out of a large flat rock plastered with mud. You burn wood underneath it and cook on top of it. This was the first night Linder cooked for us and he made a wonderful banana soup from green bananas his father picked from the trees outside.

Although we are sleeping on the floor again, I did get to take a cold shower and after a long day's walk, I hope to sleep a bit.

TM: So, an amazing trip from the Andes to the Jungle. It was beyond anything I have ever done, and not only the scenery. I saw people who live in a completely different world than any I have ever seen. No power. No running water. No roads. The only way in and out by a horse trail, with the nearest power source being a day’s journey away. Living in the middle of a jungle. Almost everyone has a horse, mule or donkey. Many of the people living out in the wilderness are raising cattle, either for meat or milk, but mostly for the latter. Apparently, a lot of the people who are out there actually lived in the city, but felt like they were doing nothing of any use, so returned to the mountains to work.

A problem that has really damaged the economic stability of these towns is migration. People go to the US(almost solely illegally and, from Ecuador, to New York) where they get a terrible apartment where between 6 and 8 people live together, allowing for a low rent of around 200 dollars per person, monthly. Often they get a job in construction and another at night working in a Quick-E-Mart type store. They can usually get between $3000 and $5000 a month. They then send a sizable portion of that back to their families here, who instead of putting that money into the community with business or services, build themselves needlessly large houses and don’t end up doing any work at all. This leaves the people who don’t have relatives in the US in the worst possible state of poverty. Thus, the population of towns, especially those that are out of the way, has dwindled over the years. Some have a population made up of almost entirely women and children.

We stopped at one little town (if you could even call it that) and I bought a coke. While I was sitting in front of the shop drinking it, a little boy and little girl, neither of whom could have been more than five years old, started to walk up. They moved very, very slowly, and when they got about 20 feet away, they stopped. They looked scared out of their wits. Our guide told us then that parents tell their kids that white people will come take them away if they aren’t good. He also told us that we looked like doctors (who come to give vaccinations) and it was possible that they thought we were going to give them shots. Which they were afraid of, because shots hurt.

Anyway, they play Carnaval in the mountains as well, but apparently the main emphasis of the festivities is roasting lots and lots of meats. Beef, pork, sheep, rabbit, cuy (which is Guinea Pig, a delicacy here) and it goes on for three days, just like in the city.

Some other interesting facts which I learned on this trip:
1) Ecuador is the most corrupt country in the entire world.
2) Ecuador is tied for the country with the most abuse of women in the world.

Whoda thunk?

Trek from the Andes to the Jungle: Day 1

2005-01-31T08:35:00.000-08:00

Diane: The most remarkable thing about today is that it happened.

My last few attempts at putting together a multi-day family hike have been thwarted by schedules, weather, injured body-parts, bad attitudes, or some dastardly combination of the above. For example, I planned a 3-day backpacking trip in North Carolina last summer. Everything was perfect, until we got out of the car. Within 5 minutes, TM had hurt his leg so that he was limping badly. And before we could unload the car, it was pouring. It did let up for a few hours each day. Needless to say we did not go backpacking.

The last time we actually went backpacking, we hiked to a beautiful spot, set up camp, ate a bit. And then it started to rain. The prediction was for rain all night followed by sun the next morning. I thought that sounded okay. We'd just hang our tents and tent pads out to dry and then hike out. But, this was no ordinary rain. It rained so much that the river overflowed. In the middle of the night, we could hear the water rushing by our tents as everything inside got wetter and wetter. We woke up camped in the middle of a lake. I found Calliope's boots and socks floating nearby. The dry trail we had walked in on the day before was now covered in 1 - 3 feet of water. It was a spectacularly beautiful wade back to the car.

The rest of the family is now a bit reserved, when it comes to agreeing to go on an overnight hike with me. I get the silent treatment. Nobody refuses to go, but nobody actually talks about getting ready either.

So, when I found a tourism project offering a supported hike to take us from a town called Jima, 30 kilometers from Cuenca and high up in the Andes, down to the low-lying village of La Florida, nobody said much. A horse would carry all of our gear. We would have a guide. December and January are the driest times to hike in this region, so our timing was good. I exchanged emails with a couple of Peace Corps Volunteers that are helping get this tourism project off the ground. I forwarded everybody the information concerning the route, food and sleeping arrangements, difficulty level, guide, horses, etc. I then told everybody to incorporate more and more walking into their days in preparation for the trek. No response.

Today, the first day of the hike, Calliope and TM took turns riding a horse. Tom and I walked the whole way. The highest point we reached was at about 3000 meters, and we are spending the night at about 2200 meters. We followed a horse trail, since this is a roadless area. During the rainy season, each time a horse walks the trail, they compress the mud underneath during each step. Over time, large ruts form between tall humps of earth. Imagine a washboard dirt road with the washboard enlarged 10 times. When it rains, the ruts fill with water. We lucked out; it did not rain!

We hiked for 6 or 7 hours through spectacular scenery, moss-covered trees, and many tough looking plants. Linder, our guide, is a biologist. He showed us plant-related points of interest along the way, including the quina tree. This tree, which requires very specific growing conditions, was the sole source of quinine for many years at a time when it was the only treatment available for malaria. According to Raúl, our Spanish teacher at the Abraham Lincoln Center in Cuenca, the extension of the British Empire into malaria-infested countries was made possible by this tree.

Another plant of interest along the way is used by local women to make their hair grow longer. I figured if there were such a thing, I'd have certainly seen it (or some alternative) on drugstore shelves in the U.S. Linder is a trained biologist, but he didn't share my disbelief. Maybe we have a new find, ready for marketing back home.

We are spending the night in the schoolhouse in the small town of San Miguel de Cuyes. We had the additional options of staying with a local family or camping, but we are all too tired to evaluate such complexities.

The first resident we met said that 22 people live in this town. Linder says that as little as a few years ago, there were several hundred. There were a few young men hanging out by the schoolhouse, but I was too exhausted to try to carry on a conversation in Spanish.

We made it to our first destination in good weather and in good health. Nobody is blaming me for any misadventures. It has been a remarkable day.

Calliope at Parque Calderón, Cuenca, Ecuador

2005-01-25T13:40:00.000-08:00

Diane: From the smallest town to the largest city, Ecuadorian towns, generally have a well maintained and landscaped central plaza. The prinicipal church is generally adjacent to it. Cuenca is no exception with its Parque Calderón. In addition, Spanish colonial architecture dominates the historic center surrounding this lovely park.

In an effort to capture the serene, flowery, community-oriented nature of this park, Calliope and I went down for a photo shoot. As it turns out, our camera could either focus on Calliope or the park, but not both. So, here are some fun pictures of Calliope.

Let's start with Calliope standing by a lovely wall of bougainvilla by the edge of the park. In Sarasota, bougainvilla is our arch-enemy. It grows about 10,000 feet every month and it's thorns are as long as a 2-litre bottle of soda and as dense as the hair on my head. But here in Cuenca, bougainvilla is a slow grower with few thorns that flowers almost continuously throughout the year.

When we arrived in Cuenca, there were no flowers blooming. Our first few months were rainy and cool. At the end of December the sun came out. Everybody complained about the heat. Even I started to take my sweatshirt off for a couple of hours each day. And then, miraculously, on the first day of the New Year, all the flowers bloomed at once. Here are a few sharing their wealth of colors behind Calliope. You can also make out the municipal building off in the background

There is a lot of nice iron-work in and around the park. You can see bits and pieces in the background.

As an aside, we live in the iron-workers neighborhood. Once it crosses the river, the main road coming out this way is called Las Herrerías - The Blacksmith Shops. Next door lives a family that probably makes all the cuy (guinea pig) grills in Cuenca. Every week or two, there are a spate of newly painted grills drying out in the sun behind our apartment. Most every morning at around 7 am, the soft clanging starts as this family gets to work. Tom claims this noise keeps him awake, but I find it to be a very delicate sound.

Although Calliope is feigning sleep in this next picture, you are actually prohibited from sleeping in this park. Guards will come around and wake you up!

Cuenca's two cathedrals flank either side of the park. Behind Calliope is the Old Cathedral.

The trees are very manicured. Trees with benches surrounding them are pruned so that no one hits their head. Here Calliope demonstrates.

There are many cozy benches to relax on. People can get to know each other better here.

Christmas Decorations, Cuenca, Ecuador

2005-01-11T13:39:00.000-08:00

Diane: The Christmas season has come to a close. Day by day, the city is removing its fabulous outdoor decorations. There is a vast array of lights. On some streets at night, you can't see to their end. The lighting takes a unique twist in several city parks. The trees are lit up in spooky bright green and blue. It reminds me of the old Disney version of Snow White running through the dark forest, trees catching at her skirt.

The New Cathedral in the central plaza is elegantly lit at night.

Nativity scenes decorate the town. Most families erect something inside their homes. In addition, there are outdoor nativity scenes and museum exhibits. An art exhibit opened with nativity scenes from around South America. Another opened displaying the winners of a nativity art contest. I don't know the exact guidelines for the contest, but it seems that each one is made from organic materials and the artists are allowed great thematic leeway. One is composed entirely of beans. Another shows what was left when Mary and Joseph had to leave suddenly. They are all wildly different and quite entertaining. One of my favorite outdoor nativity scenes is an enormous, modern-style variant. All surfaces are covered with colorful reflective material. At about 30 feet tall, this creation dwarfs the surrounding playground equipment.

One well-known Cuencan couple works year round on an elaborate nativity scene next to their house. It is a miniature representation of hundreds of Ecuadorian indigenous people, PlayMobile figures, Roman soldiers, lights, bright gaudy plastic, Ecuadorians at work, moving parts, and much more. The scenes that capture everyday Ecuadorian life are fascinating.

One area portrays celebrations with a maypole, a military band, an indigenous band, and some folks enjoying a meal together.

In country scenes, people ride horses down a trail. Many of them carry heavy loads. Women carry their babies with them. Sheep and chickens to one side, lush vegetation to the other. A water wheel, with water flowing through it adds a touch of drama. A few houses have thatched-style roofs. There are some real plants and some artificial ones.

The colorful outdoor market is quintessential Ecuadorian. Women in colorful clothing. Bags of grains, pasta, and beans. Roasting cuys (guinea pigs). Fresh fruit and vegetables for sale.

And a crafts market. Each vendor has an awning for sun protection. They are depicted selling ceramic pots, metal cans, baskets, and straw hats.

Another unusual aspect of the Cuencan Christmas scene are the moss and bromeliad markets that pop up. Traditionally, people decorate their family crèches with such plants. Unfortunately, reliance on these plants has resulted in their decimation in the wild. Every year the government and the press unsuccessfully promote alternative options. However, this is insufficient to sway the masses from purchasing the real thing.

Rumi-Wilco, Vilcabamba, Ecuador

2005-01-09T15:32:00.000-08:00

Diane: The name Vilcabamba comes from Wilco, a type of tree whose seeds have been used as a hallucinogen by the indigenous people for over 4000 years, and Bamba, meaning valley. So Vilcabamba is the valley of the wilco trees. The wilco is one of those large trees with very small leaves arranged in a feathery fashion.

My limited ability to note and remember the differences in plant species has led me to, incorrectly, call all such large feathery trees, acacias.

Due to the filtered light that pokes through wilco trees, this is an attractive area to cultivate shade-grown coffee. The lodge sells its own coffee that they grow, sun-dry, clean, roast, grind, and package. Tom, a coffee aficionado from way back with 2 coffee-grinders, 2 espresso-makers, 2 French presses, and 1 drip coffee-maker at home, says that it is the best coffee he has ever tasted. As a non-coffee drinker, I was more interested in the plants, which are a wonderful bright green. Aren't the woods so much greener when you travel far from home ;-)?

We have spent the last two days hiking the hillside behind the lodge. We have picked and eaten lots of tropical fruit. And the views have been outstanding. Aside from the wilco trees, here are some of the plants, views, and people that I fell for.

The flowers on a tree near the cabin was particularly attractive to a type of butterfly, whose wings were for the most part transparent. There were tens of them on this one tree.

I can never resist bark with a good covering of lichen, a fallen log with a good head of moss, or a tree limb cloaked in epiphytes, no matter how common they are back at home.

There were walls of grasses and bamboos.

Tom spotted a stunning fungus.

I spotted some domesticated animal life.

There were lots of plants that I could not identify, but that were visually entertaining.

One plant had tiny leaves with enormous red spines.

And, my favorite was the kapok tree. We had a neighbor in Florida, who took down the house and all the vegetation on their land, but left two of these magnificent trees. A few weeks later, the trees were gone. We were so sad. And, Busch Gardens has a massive kapok tree surrounded by benches. Most of the folks who sit there are keeping an eye on their kids and never even notice the tree.

A few areas of cactus "forest" made Tom drool with envy. He has started a cactus garden at home, but there were some magnificent specimens here.

I had my first bout of acrophobia ever, yesterday. I have hiked many mountains, high and low all over the U.S., but I've never felt such a panic as I did here. I am known to freeze when I have to walk on a log above a river, but with a little patience and/or a helping hand, I always get through it without despairing. Yesterday, we were walking along the side of a mountain that had a steep dropoff to the right. The width of the path decreased to the point where there was no safety margin, just a precipitous drop off to the right. To the left, the mountain was just a few inches from my shoulder, so there was little leeway to the left. I felt myself shift right and left as I walked; no matter how I tried to correct it, I felt off-balance. Finally, I stopped, squatted down, wrapped my arms around a rock to my left, and just cried.

I was walking ahead of everybody else. Calliope was the first to find me. She realized immediately that it was beyond her ability to help me out of this, so she went and got Tom. Tom was great. I'm not even sure what he did, but I'm now sitting at the keyboard writing about all this, so I'm sure that he did just what I needed. I had to keep reminding myself that everything was all right as I made my way down the steep gorge back to the cabin.

I don't know if this is called fear of heights. I was actually afraid, because I felt so off-balance that I thought I was going to fall off the mountain. Today, I continued having the same feeling of panic and of being off-balance as we approached the high ridge and walked along its narrow path. I could look off to the left, without a problem, but there was a steep drop off to the right. So, I just kept my gaze off to the left. Luckily an exceptional view into Podocarpus National Park lay in that direction. Normally, I wouldn't try to capture such majesty with a camera, but I decided to piece together a panorama using Photoshop to capture some of its essence. Click on the photo, if you want to see all the details and TM!

En route to Vilcabamba, Ecuador

2005-01-07T15:29:00.000-08:00

Diane: We finally made it to Vilcabamba, but without a reservation. I had wanted to stay at the Rumi-Wilco lodge, which is a bit out of town in a private nature reserve next to a National Park. The owners are naturalist-biologist-guides. Natural reserve plus naturalist owners sounded like a great mix. They have a cabin called the Pole House. It sits atop stilts by the river with a kitchen and deck - all in all perfect for us. Unfortunately, based on prior email correspondence, it was unavailable until February. I was hoping for a last-minute cancellation.

Vilcabamba was known as the valley of longevity for many years. A recent twist on this theme has resulted in a number of budget accommodations with spa services. I firmly believe that for every hour of massage you get when you need it, you add at least 2 hours to your life. Based on this rule-of-thumb and Tom's generosity with massages, Tom has ensured me a long life :-). And I know, based on almost all adolescents' obsession with any and every whitehead, blackhead, red-blotch and anything else that could be construed as a pimple, TM and Calliope would each exuberantly welcome a facial. So, a hostel-spa was another enticing option.

We arrived at the Vilcabamba bus station very hungry. We had changed buses in Loja, which had a couple of restaurants inside the terminal. I had lobbied to stop and eat, since it was already 1pm. But to no avail. Tom did not want to stop for anything, since we might miss the last bus to Vilcabamba. This worry was entirely misplaced, since there were scheduled buses running every 15 minutes from early morning to late at night. Logic did not sway Tom's firm stance. TM thought we should get going so that we could find a place to stay and get settled sooner rather than later. He feels the same way about homework - better to get it all done at school rather than worry about all those nasty details, such as bringing home the right textbooks or writing down the assignment. Calliope was hungry, but didn't see any obvious vegetarian options at the bus terminal and had no interest in inquiring. Since I try to take everybody's desires into consideration, the majority ruled and we took the next bus to Vilcabamba. Sometimes I think I should be more dictatorial.

When I inquired about the bus schedule and fare to Vilcabamba, I was told the fare was $1.30 each. After the disheartening discussion about whether to eat in the terminal, I returned to purchase tickets. For the four of us, the total was $6.00, which means that the individual fare had gone up $.20 each in the last 15 minutes. Although the difference was small, I hate the feeling of being fleeced. I reminded the ticket-seller that she had already told me the price and after a bit of haggling she agreed to the original fare.

Now this is a situation, when my command of Spanish is sufficient to deal with the practical details, but insufficient to give me the insight I prefer. I have been told that the bus rates in Ecuador are set by the government. You never have to bargain concerning bus fares, nor do you have to worry about being overcharged if you forget to ask the fare ahead of time. Having grown up in the U.S., I find this reassuring. But, there still seems to be quite a bit of variability. For example, passage from one city to another may cost significantly more depending on the exact route. Some companies with nicer buses charge a dollar or two more, but this is not always the case. Although I didn't realize it, the company I was dealing with today ran both cramped vans and large luxury buses. The ticket-seller did not tell us that she was selling us tickets on one of the cramped vans, but that might have explained the price difference. People here have been so nice to us that I now hesitate to assume that we will be taken advantage of just because we are tourists.

We had a bit more trouble purchasing tickets, because the ticket-seller didn't have change for a ten. Lack of change is a continuing problem in Ecuador. I think it is primarily caused by dollarization. Since the local currency is now the U.S. dollar, the Ecuadorians can't manufacture their own currency. They have to get it from the U.S. Early on, coins were next to impossible to come by, so they reverted back to the old centavo pieces. But singles also pose a problem. They are probably the most commonly used denomination and as such they get wrinkled, written on, torn, and then unacceptable in short order. As a result, there are far more Sacagawea coins than one dollar bills. Even so, there is a dearth of coins and small bills. Restaurant proprietors and venders of all types are always running next door for change. ATM machines almost universally spit out $20 bills, so as a traveler, my brain devotes a small, but constant undercurrent of thought to which bill to use when. Today, I offered to check some of the other bus companies to see if they had change. Nobody had change. Finally, the ticket-seller looked in some drawers, her purse, and some envelopes and come up with the necessary bills.

Once we finally arrived in Vilcabamba, we went in search of a place to eat. On the 2-block walk to the town center, we passed a couple of houses with massage signs out front; it seemed that many of the local residents had gotten into spa-related businesses. The center had several restaurants to choose from, almost none of which served Ecuadorian food :-(. The restaurants catered to tourists. The village was surrounded by soft, stunning mountains - a veritable hiker's paradise.

It was extremely hard to imagine that 20-odd years ago, Tom's sister, Catherine, had worked in the Peace Corp helping with a fish station here. I suppose the Galapagos might have been nicer; some Peace Corps volunteers have all the luck!

After lunch we followed a series of somewhat hidden maps to find the Rumi-Wilco eco-lodge. The first map we found under a roof overhang next to a couple of advertisements for other lodgings. The second we found at an artisan shop in the village center on the lower corner of a window. It was a bit like a treasure hunt. Luckily, our packs weren't that heavy or I'm sure we would have settled someplace along the way. The dirt road out of town dwindled to a trail. We crossed the river a few times - once on some wet rocks and once on a tilted bridge that had been somewhat overturned during a recent flood (which reminded all of us of the Ripley's-Believe-It-Or-Not attraction in Orlando).

When we arrived, we walked along the snaking paths, until we found the owners' kids. We had a brief conversation, they retired inside their house, and then they emerged with a key for what they called a cabaña. We kept walking, until we came upon our new home-away-from-home, nestled amongst lush greenery and fruit trees - the Pole House. What luck!

Our trip down to Vilcabamba was not at all unusual. I just thought at least one account of a day spent traveling was in order, since we have spent and will continue to spend many days on the road. As you can tell, the cogs of our decision-making processes aren't finely tuned like precisely-machined equipment. However, we are fairly flexible, which counts for something. To minimize the friction encountered during our time on the road, I'm thinking that we will stay at least a week at any given destination.

Day of the Innocents, Cuenca, Ecuador

2005-01-06T07:36:00.000-08:00

Diane: In my mind the label for January 6th is "Three Kings Day". I have been in predominantly Catholic countries where there are parades and festivities on this day. But here in Cuenca, they celebrate "Day of the Innocents". It had been foretold that a child born around this date would cause the downfall of King Herod. So the King ordered the slaughter of all infant male children born around that date.

Raúl, our Spanish teacher at the Abraham Lincoln Center, told us the story several months ago. At first, I thought it was a Bible story or a moral parable and asked what one was supposed to learn from such a horrid story. But it turns out that many (most?) people consider it historically correct. I was not familiar with this story and still don't think I got it quite right.

In Cuenca, evening celebrations include a parade, hoardes of young men cross-dressing as women, a few young women cross-dressing as men, and some kind of contest. I am not sure what this has to do with the King Herod slaughter, but it sounded like a lot of fun, so I kept my ears open for more details.

I heard from a few Cuencanos that during the afternoon, the local children dramatize the slaughter in full costume. One person said there would be a lot of skyrockets just before it was to begin. If we followed the noise, we would find it. Another said that it would take place in the central plaza around 1pm. The newspaper said there would be a procession starting at TM and Calliope's high school around noon that would wind around to Mother's Park, where an event would be held.

I have a rule of thumb here in Ecuador, when logistical details are a bit sketchy or divergent. If I get the same info from at least two sources, who have nothing to do with one another, then there is a fair likelihood that the info is fundamentally sound. If I only hear/read it from one source, I generally don't change my plans to accommodate the information. In this case, where no two versions coincided, I decided to go have a good lunch. Afterwards, Calliope, TM, and I wandered in a roundabout fashion through town toward our apartment. We neither heard skyrockets, nor saw a procession, nor stumbled upon any outdoor productions. I did notice that adjacent to Mother's Park, workers were constructing a bandstand. They thought it was for a show that was to start around 6:30.

Although all my sources agreed that the evening festivities would take place on Gran Columbia between San Blas plaza and the central plaza, a temporary bandstand located next to Mother's Park was too hard to ignore. Another rule of thumb is that direct evidence is better than hearsay. A temporary bandstand shouts celebration, so I decided to return in the early evening.

In the evening, large groups of young men dressed as young women in Catholic school uniforms. There were also groups dressed as clowns, goblins, and scary creatures of the night.

There was music coming from many directions. At the head of the parade, three men dressed as women-clowns lead the way on their motorcycles.

The parade participants had fun with the crowd. A group dressed as the Cuencan soccer team came around giving autographs, whether requested or not. Clowns ran up and down the street interacting with the crowd.

TM's friend, Joe, was in the parade as part of a large group from his University, entitled "Chinese invasion". The theme was in reference to the proliferation of small Chinese-owned shops selling cheap Chinese imports. The costumes, however, bore no resemblance to the theme - just to the title. There were large Chinese dragons, samurai, geishas, sumo wrestlers, and karate practitioners.

Not only were the costumes interesting visually, but they also showed a confusion of Chinese and Japanese culture including bits of both. I took lots of pictures to give to Joe, only to find out later that there were two groups with the identical costume motif and the identical cultural confusion!! Either one group copied the other or the local costume shops rent the same costumes. Ironically, TM says the costume shops are Chinese-owned.

Early on in the evening, a group of young men dressed as Cholas came parading down the street. Everybody's definition of a Chola is a little bit different, but here's one attempt - a working-class, Cuencan women in traditional dress. Suddenly they veered off to the right and swarmed in our direction. We stepped out of the way as they charged a young woman about a foot away from us. She backed into a wall and they all jumped her and started a humping motion. I couldn't really tell what they were yelling, but it felt like an attack. The woman standing next to me rolled up the newspaper she was holding and started beating one of them on the head and chastising them. Eventually they backed off. Within 2 minutes, they went off after another young woman across the street.

I still don't know exactly what was going on, but to me it looked like a dry run for a gang rape. Even worse, it turned out that this group was a collection of students from TM and Calliope's class and grade! These were the same young men who had served us snacks, played guitar and sang for us, and hosted various competetive games at the class Christmas party just a couple of weeks earlier.

We saw the same gang-rape scenario, repeated by many groups, many times over the next hour. Even with the parade, the dozens of talented acts on the bandstands, and the festive ambience, this soured the whole event for Tom and me. I was also a bit afraid that Calliope might be a target, since they were definitely going after young women her age. We left immediately after seeing what we thought was the "Chinese Invasion".

TM had stayed home through all this, but after hearing that his friends were out dressed in costume, he wanted to join in. There wasn't much time, but both TM and Calliope wanted to go out dressed as the opposite gender. Swapping each other's clothes, it was a great last-minute effort.

Calliope tried to master the male teenage I-don't-care slouch. TM was evidently rather convincing, because many on the street thought he was a woman. With all the mob-fake-attacks going on, TM also felt a hint of the fear that women feel on a dark street at night, when a group of strange men approach. It was quite the role-play evening with young men dressed as young women whistling excitedly at young women and/or young men dressed as young women. Interestingly, there were very few young women dressed as young men. Many aspects of the evening were self-orchestrated by the teenagers/young-adults. At an age when they are exploring their sexual identities, this celebration allowed young people to experiment a bit in a public setting.

I am considering writing a letter to the editor taking a stand against the attack-mob activity, but I am hesitant. I can hear the charge of cultural imperialism ringing in my ears as I rail against another culture's method of merry-making. Not that I have a problem pointing out unacceptable behavior, be it culturally based or not. Also, I don't know if my Spanish is good enough to come off sounding reasonably intelligent. We'll see...