A few quick notes: Apparently people can ¨follow¨ my blog, which I didn´t know until my buddy Adam just did about a week ago. As of now I see no added benefit to this other than making me feel good about myself, but I put a link on there anyway in case you want to. New photos are up, a smattering of bolivia and peru. Still have some more Bolivia pics yet to make it up due to extenuating circumstances (unavoidably detained). Lastly, trying a shorter format, hope you like it.
I also forgot one of the more important parts of Bolivia:

HOW DO YOU LIKE YOUR LLAMA FETUS?
Cause in Bolivia, apparently the correct answer is ¨dried.¨ Interesting fact about Llamas: they abort their first three children. Im pretty such its out of social protest but some claim science has something to do with it too. The coca leaves must have been extra strong when they came up with this tradition because I don´t really understand it. Apparently you take the dried llama fetus and place it on top of what I like to call a ¨random crap burrito¨ consisting of paper shavings and various other trinkets. You roll it up and place it in the corner of the house and repeat four times, one for each corner. This is supposed to ward of bad spirits but I feel like it doesnt work. Perhaps burying the Llama fetus might be a better idea? At least then you may get a llama fetus tree, or who knows, maybe even a whole llama will grow. Im willing to bet its the overly powerful dried llama fetus llama that is keeping this tradition alive.


Something tells me this is going to be the Tickle Me Elmo of 2009



WELCOME TO CUZCO
After my 12 hour bus ride into the city all I wanted was a beer and bed. I got the former but the latter just wasnt in the cards. As I was flossing my teeth a girl comes out of the bathroom and our conversation is as follows (please note this takes place over several hours and is condensed):

Aussie Girl: You´re flossing, thats lame
Daniel: Sorry
AG: Thats ok, I just threw up lasagna. Where are you sleeping?
Daniel: The room next door
AG: Me too! (dragging me into the room) This is my bed, this is my best friend nat´s bed, this is my brother chris´s bed, and you´re sleeping above stinky bitch.
Daniel: Stinky bitch?
AG: yeah, shes a stinky old bitch (she actually was stinky, though not old, and I was unable to tell if she was a bitch or not). you should come out with us!
Daniel: no thanks, really tired.
AG: Want a vicaden?
Daniel: Ill be alright, thanks
AG: You want some lasagna?
Daniel: (not sure the source of the lasagna) ill pass
(friend walks in) AG to friend: do you have any heroin
Nat: yeah
AG: and coke?
Nat: yeah
AG: Great, lets go out
(RETURN AT 3 AM)
AG: Daniel wake up, I brought you something (shoving a mcdonalds cup filled with ketchup packets in my face). HAHAHA! Just kidding! those are for breakfast tomorrow. You going to come out with us tomorrow night?
Daniel: Maybe
AG: You better, and you better get fucked up! If not I´m going to slip a vicaden in your drink! (the girls proceed to talk about the last person they did that to as ball up in the fetal position and rock myself to sleep).

some guys have all the luck.

POOR MR MARBLES
Said name can really be substituted for any pet you had in your childhood. One of the Peruvian national dishes is Guinea Pig. Before our big day we decided to partake in such a decadent dish and visited a restaurant specializing in such.

Turns out this place was a tourist trap as the food really wasnt great, but we got out money´s worth in jokes that haunted our childhood memories.

We samples the Buffalo Guinea Wings. I guess the restaurant would have also worked well for those who hate italians as they could get away with slurs all night.

We also managed to have a good time around town. Generally I shy away from ghastly american behavior like making fun of other cultures, but sometimes Peru just made it too easy:


Lee and Brynn have decided on a career change and are practicing up

THE INCA TRAIL
Enough about Cuzco though, lets get down to the good stuff. A group of six of us went. Two friends from college, Julie and Lee. One friend from LA, Chris. And two of Julie´s friends. The trail itself lasted four days and was absolutely one of the most incredible things Ive ever done.

Day 1
Was considered the easy day, so we knew we were in for trouble. It didnt help that I was lugging about 30lbs on my back. We started in the Sacred Valley at 2400 meters and worked our way all the way up to 3200 meters, stopping off to see ruins built into the mountainside. We setup camp around 5pm and there were some locals selling luke warm beer that wasnt that good to begin with. It cost about $2 and would have taken the worlds strongest man to pry that beer from my Kungfu grip.


A Man selling drinks along the way. Julie tested his credit card ad and was denied. Law suit currently pending.


Some of the ruins built into the mountainside

Day 2
This was supposed to be the Tough Day, so we knew we were in trouble since the soreness really kicked in after a nights rest. This day is 18km, climbing 800m, then descending 600 (much harder than it sounds), climbing another 300 and descending 500 more. Its such a challenge that there are extra mountain folk around willing to carrying peoples packs for them so they can walk it without weight. Some members of our group opted for this route, though I wont mention whom. As tough as it was, Im glad I kept my pack with me. The altitude has such an effect that Im sure I would have been struggling anyways, thus would have felt like an uber-wimp.


Dead Womans Pass was the heighest the trail gets, 4200m, and apparently such an accomplishment that its picture worthy.

Day 3
The majority of the hard work is out of the way on the first two days, which is nice because you can enjoy the last two much more. We hiked through mountains, jungles, and forests, and it never got old. I knew I was really living in the moment when I realized I hadnt thought about anything to do with computers for the past three days. Unfortunately some of the most amazing things we saw (clouds coming in over the landscapes etc), the camera does no justice to. I, however, am under the impression that that is the way it should be. There are some things that only belong as a memory in your head, thats what makes them unique and unable to replicate.


A Sampling of some of the trail we traversed

Day 4
We woke up at 4 AM to try to beat the crowds into Machu Picchu, our final destination. Unfortunately, after 1.5 hours of hiking, my camera decides to break right as we reach the lost Incan city. Our group is sharing pictures so I should have some soon...I apologize for any delays and emotional scarring this may have caused.
Once we made it into the city we headed toward Wacchamamma, the adjoining mountain because apparently in our new found masochism we hadnt had enough hiking. The situation turned a bit crazy and we ended up having to rush our hike, which is always good when climbing hundreds of meters with no guard rails. Glad I made the climb, though the weather was too cloudy for good views of P City (its following in P Diddys footsteps. Ancient lost cities these days, what are you going to do?) This was followed by a tour of the city. Scholars maintain that the translation was lost thousands of years ago, but really, no one has any idea why this city was built into the mountainside. Their best guess: university. My best guess: precursor to Neverland ranch.

Heaven and Hell

Editors note: If youve read Adams post from the past blog, youll notice that I left out names in the previous posting. I usually do this for the sake of anonymity (not that it matters that much) but apparently I have offened my dear friend Adam. In the name of full disclosure, Adam is the name of the guy from South Africa. And don´t worry Adam, you weren´t just ¨that guy from South Africa,¨ you were my only guy from South Africa. Since Ive held back to much here´s a bit more info about Adam: he used to live in London, he wears mankinis, and his favorite drink is a cosmopolitan :)

AM I DREAMING?

The third day of our trek through the desert we reached the much awaited destination: the salt flats of Uyuni. 12,000 km in area and up to 10m deep, this ancient dried out lake is a site for the ages. Most of the fun we had was with depth perception, since you are surrounded by white, putting things/objects in the background can make them seem smaller. For example:


A picture that appears if GoGo Jonas and I are shrunk and holding up Adam.



We also had a little bit of fun with this one:



A little Angel and Devil on the shoulder


This last one doesnt quite capture it all the way as I was at the wrong angle with the sun, but it almost appears if Im free falling.




We also stopped by the Isla de Pescados (Fish Island), smack in the middle of the salt flats. It gets its name in that it´s shaped like a fish if viewed from above. It´s most known for its cacti, some as high as 16 meters and old as 1,000 years old. Eating lunch hear was almost surreal. It seems as if you are surrounded by snow, but it´s really just tons and tons of salt. More photos in the web album.


ALL GOOD DREAMS MUST COME TO AN END

After our trek through we stopped by the train graveyard, which wasnt too much to see. The train rememnants were those left over from around the 1850s when the spanish used to export materials out to sea through the northern coast of Chile.

Once we arrived in Uyuni the real fun began. Jose, our nineteen year old driver found my passport and handed it over to the office official, along with two numbers to call to get my visa...neither number worked. Apparently there is no translation needed for the look I gave her, which was probably something to the tune of ¨if we don´t get my visa today Im going to bury you in the salt flats.¨ After about ten tries she finally got through and the visa was taken care of with relative ease. Its pretty by the way, the bolivian visa, but not worth $135 by any means.

As I was now free to move throughout the country and ready to get the hell out of Uyuni, I met up with some of my fellow desert trekkers and we went to book a night bus to La Paz. The news wasn´t good: police and army had closed the already poor roads due to rain. Having no other options we booked our tickets for the following morning and were told to check back in around 7pm in case something opens up.

Nothing opened up, but that didnt seem to matter. We were told to meet at a sketchy gas station outside of town to bypass the road block and that we would be leaving tonight. By now I am traveling with two ladies from Bolivia and we were eager to get to La Paz so we went. Upon our departure I noticed the police were there, though they left after about fifteen minutes. I assume they took a bribe.

Turns out we probably shouldnt have left. I think we crossed at least three rivers. Not on bridges, actually going through the rivers. One of them was at least 30m long and another had trucks washed up in the river bed. Our bus broke down twice and stopped a third time. The additional stop was after crossing a river, hitting a hole, and the bus tossing back and forth at about 45 degree angle, so close to tipping over. The bus behind us saw this and slowed down, then got stuck in the riverbed. They had to evacuate the bus at 5am, build fires and wait for another bus. We made our 300 mile journey in 18 hours and the group that got stuck took 25, so it was bad but could have been a lot worse. If there is a hell, Id imagine it something close to this.

LA PAZ
In all fairness, I dont think I gave it enough time. After the delayed bus ride and spending a bit too long in Chile, I only had two days for La Paz and two more for La Titicaca. The city is visually astonishing as its over 10,000 ft high and essentially built into mountainsides. There is one main road that is relatively flat and all the others go uphill from there. The city itself doesnt have too terribly much to offer. By day it is really just one big open air market, everybody is selling everything. So much so that it seems supermarkets dont really exist in the city center. There isnt too much in the way of culture, except for the Coca Museum, which I visited and burshed up on my history of the coca leaf and its popular byproduct: cocaine. The food was rather mediocre as well. That said, the one upside is that its absurdly cheap. A night in a basic hotel was about $6US. I also bought a swiss army night (though not brand name) for $3.50. It was nice to live in a place where everything was so cheap and I feel as if I had stayed longer I could have appreciated it more. ç

OH THOSE BEAUTIFUL BOLIVIAN WOMEN...

Not so much. I think its the altitude but they kind of resemble cupcakes. High cheek bones, a low center of gravity, and a bit of a waddle...not really a recipe for attraction. I do like their traditional garb though and hope to have a picture of it up soon.

THE CRIME SIDE

Although I felt relatively safe Bolivia still has a lot of work to do in terms of security. A few things that might startle foreigners are the shoe shine boys and taxis. The shoe shine boys were ski masks and hats to completely cover their face and most taxi/buses are old school VW type vans. When the buses come by, someone opens the door quickly and starts screaming out the destinations. If you put the two of those together, it seems like a great recipe for an express kidnapping (where they take you hostage until you draw as much money out of the ATM as you can). Come to think of it, those vans look an awful lot like the one the terrorists used in Back to the Future, so youve got that to worry about too.

One side note: Bolivia really appears to be a country without consequences. I used to feel the same about Argentina and sort of still do, but at least Argentina maintains the illusion of consequnces. Its well know to travelers where you need to go to buy all sorts of illegal contraband, including dynamite. There´s also a pretty famous prison just outside la paz, filled with all sorts of violent criminals, that is known for its cocaine production. You can take a very unofficial tour of this prison, ending with a sample of their product...I passed.

NOT QUITE THE HOTTEST PLACE SOUTH OF HAVANNA
Ok, so my man Barry was probably singing about the one in Rio, but Brazil´s Copacabana was actually named after Bolivia´s, though Im not quite sure why. The Copa was nice, though much smaller than I invisioned. There´s a hill overlooking the lake where I caught a beautiful sunset. The next day I headed to Isla del Sol, where I planned to spend the night. The island gets its name from the Incas as they thought the sun was born from there (again, not sure why as the sun neither rises nor sets over it). I had planned to spend the night on the island for a change of scenery, but this too was quite small. My friends and I arrived around 10am and hiked our way across the island in a few hours, returning around 5pm.

On our return trip we stopped by the floating island, which was one of the bigger tourist traps Id ever seen. There are apparently some real floating islands on the other side of the lake, the Peruvian side. In Peru, people apparently live on these man made floating islands. In Bolivia, they dont even make it look like they are trying. You can see the wooden bouys below the straw and a big sign saying WELCOME TO LAKE TITIHUANA (in English!). It was pretty funny as everyone on our boat was fed up with tourist traps and didnt go on the island (as we knew admission would be charged)

In sum, Im not really sure how I feel about Bolivia, said that it was exhausting. Its great in that its really cheap, but terrible and that people nickel and dime you for everything! Id rather pay 20% more than having to pay a dollar to step on the island, fifty cents to use the bathroom, a quarter for toilet paper, etc. That said, I do feel like I rushed it and would like to return at some point. My visa is good for five years so who knows.

Terribly sorry, my web albums cant make it up today. The computers here in Cusco are terribly slow so it will probably have to wait until next weekend in Lima.

Bye bye Southern American Pie

Im officially north! Or at least in the middle.

LA SALIDA

Argentina didnt want to let me leave without two final kicks to the nards. I was heading to San Pedro de Atacama, in northern chile, and its a relatively small destination. I went to the bus station early that morning to get cash and my ticket, so as not to have to wait two more days. Five cash machines later, I finally had the money. An hour and a half later, I fortunately had my ticket.

Fast forward to the next day. Six hours into the trip, just before the Chilean border, a small town- of maybe 100 people- decides to protest lord knows what and shuts down the highway. One hour delay, but really not too bad.

SAN PEDRO DE ATACAMA

Is really a cool town. Nothing is more than a story high and the population is only abour 4000. Its supported almost completely by tourism, meaning there were some great things to do and great places to eat. As we couldnt find any hostels online, we rolled the dice and waited until we cleared customs. They came up seven. Our group of three managed to multiply to eleven and we filled out Marcelinos hostel. It wasnt until later that we found out that Marcelino was a former high level body guard with knowledge of several types of martial arts. We decided to celebrate all of our various discoveries with an asado and more than a few cervezas. If youre looking through my web album (title: chile and bolivian salt flats) you may seem strange pictures, these were all from a fun drinking game we played called 13. Ill save the details for later and will probably teach many upon my return. It was just such a highlight as we had people from columbia, chile, norway, south africa, ireland, and switzerland all playing, making it quite the multicultural affair.

There was a group of five of us, though, that stuck together for the next few days. Two girls from Norway, one from Ireland, and a guy from South Africa. The following day we did an excursion to the Valley of Death (unfortunately not as cool as it sounds) and the Valley of the Moon for a sunset. Also not as great as expected, but still a nice excursion. The next evening we had Marcelino take us to one of his familiar spots, thermal baths about 30km outside the city. The waters were warmed by a nearby volcano and we couldnt stay more than a few hours due to the sulfur. We did, however, make use of our time, even if the water wasnt as hot as we wanted (about 75f).

SALT FLATS

The next morning we started on our three day, four by four excursion through the bolivian salt flats. I knew I was in for an adventure when I had to hand by passport over to bolivian customs. Americans require a visa (i now hate the word reciprocity) and Bolivia doesnt trust its border officals with the $135US I needed to pay. Therefore, my passport was put into a rather unofficial looking package and turned over to the care of our rather unoffical 19 year old guide, Jose. Three days and twenty blood pressure points later I was to get it back in Uyuni where the visa could be processed.

Nonetheless, we proceeded with out journey as planned. As I mentioned before, there were five of us, but the jeep needed six. We picked up one more random guy, a brazilian named Jonas. It proved not only a good chance for me to practice my portuguese but also a ton of fun. We traveled in a caravan of three jeeps. Not that it really mattered, one breakdown and we were screwed, this was complete desert. Every so often we stopped off at a laguna, there was the white one and the green one. The white one almost purely reflected the sky, while the green one changed colors from blue to teal as we watched (check it out in the photos). We also stopped at more thermal baths (this time about 95f) which was warmly welcomed, pun intended. Our main stop was the geysers, which were not only magnificent and dangerous, but also marked the maximum altitude of our journey at 4900m (over 15000 ft). A few shrubs was all the flora and the fauna was little more than pink flamengos and vicunas, a cousin of the deer. We ended our day at the colored lake, which was a sulfur red, full of flamengos and surrounded by llamas. Everyone was a bit shocked at a 7pm dinner time (about 3 hours earlier than we were used to) and the fact that we were at a campground with nothing else to do. Solution: cards.

The next day was more grueling than eventful. 280 km (about 168 miles) through the desert is no simple task. Id even hesitate to call this off roading because that would imply that at some point there was a road. Our first stop was the Arbol de piedra (Rock Tree) which was cool to see, but there was little else to do. We followed that with a trip through three of four lagunas, which we were a bit sick of by the end as there isn{t much to distinguish them. The last stop was an active volcano before we raced a storm to our next nights habitat.

I feel it necessary to mention that two days in the desert can take its tole on people. You can see many examples of this in my photos as we tried to spice up our sand and rock surroundings. We also started to create our own fun in other ways. The brazilian I mentioned earlier, Jonas, didnt speak much english. As he was hurrying us for a picture he said GO GO! and thus the name GoGo Jonas was born. We all ended up with nicknames by the end, mine was West Virginia (john denver is too damn popular internationally). Our team name was GoGo Jonas and can be seen extched into our jeep in various photos. More fun was had than should have been. It was like one of those times you cant stop laughing at something that isnt too funny and it was great. It was probably a good thing we pulled into our hotel when we did as who knows how far it would have gone.

When I say hotel I really mean basic accomadation. But after two days in the desert, even the mildy hot shower could have convenced every guest it was 5 star lodging. The other cool thing about the hotel was the inside was made completely out of salt. The walls were salt bricks, the floor was covered in salt and the tables and chairs were also compacted salt. Fun, novel, and suprisingly comfortable. Though I guess after the grueling day we had, a bed of nails would have been welcomed with open arms.

Day 3 was the big day, the salt flats. Unfortunately I havent uploaded my pictures from here yet, and in this case mroe than every, a picture really is worth a thousand words. Therefore, the story will have to end here and be continued within a week.

If youve made it this far, today is March 10th and Im hoping to have the photos and the second half up by the 16th. I also dont have time to inbed pictures right now but will hopefully go back and put some in by the 16th. Until then, Ill try to label a few on my web album to give a better sense of direction (they are all mixed).

The North

Dear Reader, I´ll say this only once: please keep in mind I´m on the road. I´ll probably only be able to post pictures once every few weeks or so, and even though I hope to update this at least once a week, who the hell knows. Also, given that chances are Im probably sweltering in a computer lab as locals are screaming at each other over some video game they are playing (like right now for example) please forgive the lack of editing.

That being said, it´s good to be back. Im not sure if it was the city or just feeling sedetary that made me feel as if my creativity was being stifled. Nothing gets the creative juices flowing like 90 degree heat and 100% humidity right?

TUCUMAN

I chose this as my starting off point as I had met someone from Tucuman on my last trip through europe. We kept in touch during my time in Buenos Aires and I promised her I would check out the north. Surprise surprise, when it came down to it and the ticket was booked, not a word from her. I wasnt looking for a hand out, a place to stay or anything of the like, perhaps just to meet up and grab a beer or something. She, however, went dumb over the last month and this never came to fruition. I really don´t mind as I managed to enjoy myself just fine in the city. It did, however, come to symbolize my impression of Argentina: unfulfilled promises. I´m speaking mainly in terms of people (not all of them) but suppose this could easily be applied to the government, economy, history, et al. I realize this may sound a bit bitter but I don´t really think of it in that way, it´s more of just putting things in there correct place. Knowing this will make it much easier when a local is a no show or doesnt do as they said. But I digress.

Tucuman is a big city with a small town feel. I enjoyed it as everybody seemed to be a bit more outdoorsy and healthy...lots of runners and many people on bikes. It was technically the first city in Argentina but it´s lack of museums could fool even the most historic-minded tourist. Nonetheless, it was a nice break after a 17 hour bus ride and gave me a little chance to unwind from big city life.

Getting away from the cities is kind of out there. Not quite as out there as the sheep farm, but close. At one of the bus stations I witnessed them syphoning off gas from one bus to the other. Not only that, but it appeared that this was such a common occurance that they built a ramp for one bus to back up onto. The next day I made my way up to Tafi del Valle, a town three hours north that would probably be described more as a lake with some houses around it instead of a town. As I still hadn´t shaken the rust off and come back into my own as a traveler, I wasnt willing to forge down to town to figure out what there was to do. The reasons for this were many as I was still stiff from the bus ride, lugging 60 lbs on my back, and there is very little info in guide books on this city. I decided instead to continue on to Cafayate after a two hour lunch break overlooking the lake.

Cafayate is the start of the northern wine country. It doesn´t have quite as good wine, nor the appeal of Mendoza, but is still worthy in it´s own right. They are actually known for their Torrentes there, a white wine that I can actually tolerate. Another fun part about the town is that one of their more entreprenuerial members decided to patent wine flavored ice cream. I tried both, the white and the red, and actually liked the white a little bit better as it was smoother. This, by the way, is no ¨hint of wine.¨ It´s in your face and packs a punch. I also managed to swing by a vineyard to take a tour and try some of their samples.

Also in Cafayate I took a tour of the Quebradas, a series of deserts and gorgers. Im not sure how to really place it in the US but some of it looked like Utah I guess. Some pretty amazing things that have been carved out by the elements, hopefully the pics will be up in a week or two. Somehow along the way we also managed to pick up a spaniard who was absolutely ridiculous. He was fifty years old and dressed in a salmon t shirt with wine bottles all over it, euro-short salmon shorts with goldfish (think peppridge farm) all over it, and salmon colored crocks. As I slowly work through who and what I never want to be, he helped me as I could check him off the list.

My last adventure in Cafayate was a trip to the waterfalls. Given that no excursions were offered from the hostel or guide book, I took this as a sign that I could do it solo. I should have known when the one hour trip there took 25% longer. I also should have known when the person signing people in said I should have a guide, but I thought he was blowing smoke up my ass and I was having none of it. The trail is about two hours each way and poorly marked. Not poorly marked as in ¨wow I can´t beleive there is only a sign every 400 meters¨ but poorly marked as in sometimes a machete could have been useful to help make your way through.

One of the most difficult parts was the river. I think I had to cross it about 25 times total, sometimes hopping on rocks, other times having to take off my shoes and wade through. Finally I just said screw it and went in with my boots on, which actually helped a lot more with traction. Between that, scaling rocks, walking along ledges 100ft up, and the sun beating down on me I learned my lesson. I also have several reminders of said lesson as it looks as if I got in a fight with a coked up cat. Highlight of the trek: getting lost on my way back and running into a ¨mountain boy¨ who guided me back to the trail. It sounds silly but this was literally like something out of Indiana Jones, I was dehydrated and delirious and this little shirtless boy comes out of the woodwork, bouncing off rocks like they were a flat surface. He seemed rather intrigued by me and was more than helpful, so I take it they don´t get too many yankees up in the mountains there.

One of the coolest parts thus far is getting complete use out of my spanish. Up in the north, at least right now, the only travelers are spanish speakers. I befriended two argentine ladies and their 3 year old son (who may have been the coolest three year old ever), a spanish chica, and several others. Days and nights were spent speaking spanish and I couldnt help but think how cool it was to be conversing amongst a group of people whose only similar trait was spanish. Random side note: speaking with a drunk argentine from tucuman who has a wad of coca leaf in his mouth is great practice...in patience if not spanish.

Im in Salta now but have spent more time preparing for the rest of my journey than appreciating the city, which Im ok with. I head out to San Pedro de Atacama tomorrow and Bolivia shortly thereafter. Hope to update from Bolivia but who knows what the internet will be like there.