Travel Update

In case you were wondering if we made it to the airport, we did and it was another adventure.  Jose Luis, our guide, and Juan Carlos, the driver, showed up looking a little anxious. Juan Carlos was wearing driving gloves. That was a clue. Most of the group was continuing to Bolivia, but eight of us were headed for the airport in a small van to fly back to Lima.

We quickly maneuvered the narrow crowded city streets of Puno and turned onto what pretended to be a country road. We had to make our way around the 48 hour old blockade to reach the airport. The first part of the journey was narrow and winding with deep ruts. Every time we approached another vehicle, tricky maneuvering was required. Then the road ended. Ahead of us was a dried up lake bed/salt flat. If this were the rainy season, our efforts would have been domed. We turned right onto the flat.

Cars, trucks and vans careened on this desiccated lake bed in a blinding storm of dust and salt. I have no idea how Juan Carlos could see where he was driving as we bounced along the ruts and he dodged the other vehicles. At one point, Larry asked if I was outside my comfort zone. I’m not sure I even have one anymore.

Next came the fields with animals and irrigation ditches. And the raised railroad track where we had to get out and walk and the men had to pile up rocks so that the van could get over the tracks. After an hour, we finally reached the main highway. And then on to the airport.

The traffic in Lima was almost as harrowing as the previous experience. I was glad to be facing backward in the CCS van so I didn't have to see what was ahead. So now the new phase of the trip begins. I'll catch up on the rest of the vacation travel as time permits since it appears we have reliable wi-fi here at the CCS house. 

Oh My God!

Do you remember when I said that in a post about Brazil? Well, at least this time I wasn't nearly killed. But you never know how these things are going to go. I'm several posts behind, but I want to tell you about our trip from Cusco to Puno at Lake Titikaka.

I should have learned by now that a trip to South America is likely to provide some unexpected events. The plan for Monday was to fly from Cusco to Juliaca then take a bus for an hour to Puno on Lake Titikaka. That was the plan. But it didn't quite go that way. Our flight was weather delayed which meant we probably wouldn't get our walking tour of Puno before dark. But it gets much worse.

About a half hour into the bus ride was came to a massive traffic jam on the highway. We learned that a group of protestors from a local village in the jungle had staged a well organized road block to protest the government's lack of attention to their needs. They are asking for basic services such as schools and roads. They had tried a march in the square the previous day with no success and decided to take more drastic measures. They had filled several miles of the road with rocks, boulders, glass, bonfires and protesters to prevent all flow of traffic.

After sitting for about 45 minutes, our guides decided the best course of action was for us to get out and walk the two mile blockade. Treking two miles in the dark, uphill at an altitude of nearly 12,000 feet was not what we had anticipated for the evening.

We scrambled to gather our most important belongings and put on warm clothes since the temperature was dropping quickly and would soon be near freezing. We formed a line and began to weave carefully between the improvised rock walls, bonfires, boulders and glass that covered the highway. We wove between abandoned cars, bulldozers, gas and oil tankers and even a truck loaded with furniture for delivery . Everything had come to a standstill. It was hard to tell which vehicles were a planned part of the blockade and which were stranded.

Hundreds of people joined us as we slowly marched toward Puno. Almost as many headed the other way. Businessmen, tourists, schoolchildren, dogs, Andean women with large bundles on their backs and parents with crying babies. We looked like a mass exodus of refugees trudging toward a new home.

The trek went smoothly until we came to the main point of protest. A gas tanker blocked the intersection and hundreds of people milled around bonfires singing. We weren't sure if they would let us pass. It was a tense moment as we all bunched together and passed through the protesting crowd. They made no attempts to stop us and as I looked into their faces they looked pleasant and friendly. Just like us. Why should people who are asking for so little have to resort to such extremes?

A shuttle picked us up on the other side of the blockade took us the resto of the way to our hotel. Our luggage arrived at 1:30am due to the perserverence of eight men who made multiple trips all night on a back road in small vehicles to retrieve it. We were very grateful since we expected to spend the next few days in the same clothes.

The next day our local guide said that many of the protestors had shown concern for us. Many of them said "ola" to me as I passed through and others heard "desculpe" which is an apology. Our guide said some spoke words of encouragement such as "you can make it" and "it's not much further" and asked her if we needed water. We decided they were worried because we were old!

Now it is Wednesday and the road is still blocked because the governement refuses to agree to their demands. Life goes on in Puno. The protests continue in the plaza around the corner. We expect it to take three hours to get to the airport on the back road this afternoon. I hope someone will listen to the protestors. Everyone deserves basic dignity and respect.

Machu Picchu

I’m pretty far behind in our saga because our internet connections have been frustratingly intermittent. Friday morning we set out on our journey to Machu Picchu, one of the highlights of the trip. Instead of taking the train from Cusco, for some reason we drove two hours to another train station. This can be tricky since a stubborn cow, sheep or driver blocking the way can cost you precious time on these sometimes narrow, treacherous roads. We had several delays and just barely made it to the train on time.

But the drive did provide us with the opportunity to enjoy the beautiful Andean scenery. We were driving at an elevation near 12,000 feet. I think of mountains at that height, but this  landscape was miles and miles of plains of farmland with glacier capped peaks in the background. We saw many local people in traditional dress tending their crops and livestock.

The train was very comfortable. For some reason, I had expected rustic. Just as we arrived at the town of Aguas Calientes, where we would stay, it began to rain. We lunched at the park and it rained harder. But we were not deterred. We set out to explore the ruins in spite of the fog and rain.

The climb to the top “window” was rocky, steep and slippery, but I had no difficulty with the altitude so the medicine must work. The view from the top was breathtaking. We spent the next three hours climbing up and down and around various areas until well after the park was closed. I was exhausted, but nothing Motrin and a couple of pisco sours couldn’t cure.

Since the weather was predicted to still be rainy and foggy the next day we decided not to try for sunrise at Machu Picchu which is supposed to be spectacular. Our guide had told us to climb Wayna Picchu (that peak in the background behind the ruins) we needed to get in line at 4am for a reservation. That was not going to happen. But when we arrived at the gate around 10am, we discovered they were letting people in. It was too late for us to make it to the top, but Larry and I decided on the spur of the moment to go as high as we could before we had to catch the bus.

It was very steep and slippery and we had to take it slowly. The view of the ruins was awesome. Do I look like I'm dying? That blank looking spot in the background far below is Machu Picchu. I had no idea I could do something that difficult. We only made it three quarters of the way to the top, but the important thing was that I know I could have made it all the way given enough time. Next trip.

Into the Sacred Valley

Does every trip have one of those days where you climb the mountain three times before you find where you’re going? Maybe only Nancy Crow’s trips. Today was that day for Peru. We started out on the bus headed for Amaru, where a group of weavers is continuing their village’s traditional style of weaving. There will be no report on Cuzco from yesterday because I was stricken with violent food poisoning on Tuesday night and missed all of yesterday’s explorations. But back to today.

After about an hour of driving on harrowing, narrow dirt roads, we encountered our first obstacle. A large bulldozer in the road. And a car in the ditch. Our guide talked the bulldozer into backing up, some of the men helped lift the car back onto the road, but we learned we were going the wrong way. So the bus had to turn around as well.

Now we head in a different direction. In another 30 minutes we come to a washed out bridge with a river running through the road. No way is the driver going to take his bus through the water. But again, we are going the wrong way, so it was just as well. We picked up a local young man who actually knew how to get where we were headed. And very soon (all this on fear-inducing roads with drop offs on the side you don’t even want to think about) we arrived at Amaru.

We were greeted like royalty. The whole group of weavers came out to greet us with music, to shake our hands in welcome and shower us with flower petals. Through our translator they explained their traditional process for shearing the alpacas, spinning and dyeing the yarns with natural dyes and gave us weaving demonstrations.

Next they invited us to lunch. They brought out a large mound of dried fava beans, multiple varieties of potatoes and large kernel corn. They also had quinoa soup and chicha, their version of beer for us to try. They played more music, asked us all to dance and our departure was as ceremonial as our arrival.

After lunch, we visited the large cooperative, Awana Kancha, the project where all the 16 villages work together to sell their weaving. There were more demonstrations on how they dye the fiber and we got to feed and play with the llamas and alpacas. They are so beautiful and friendly. Every one has a different face, just like people. I could have stayed with them for hours.

We will return to Pisac in the Sacred Valley on Sunday. It was difficult to see the remains of the destruction from January’s floods. I remember hearing that Machu Picchu was closed from mudslides, but didn’t really think so much about the human toll of the flooding. We don’t really get much South American news in the US. Many lives were lost and the damage to homes, roads, bridges and businesses in the Sacred Valley was extensive. There is still repair work going on everywhere.

Tomorrow we leave early for Aguas Calientes and Machu Picchu where I think there is no internet. Meanwhile, if you want to read more about the food, check out Tastemonials.

Tuesday morning

We are headed for Cuzco this morning. We’ve spent the last few days in Lima in a whirlwind of traffic, noise, food and museums. Much to our dismay, most of the museums do not allow photos. The last stop yesterday was a textile museum with an unbelievable collection of really old weaving, knitting and other types of textiles. There were examples over 2000 years old that looked as new as today, both in quality and design. Stripes, plaids, intricate patterns and bold graphics. It was a little difficult because the woman in the museum spoke only Spanish. I concentrated very hard and actually understood more than I expected of what she was saying about the techniques used for dyeing, weaving and other methods of creation.

We also visited the Mercado (marketplace). There were many stalls and vendors with woven and knitted alpaca scarves, shawls and hats, representative of Andean traditions. Lots of other local crafts as well. I couldn’t help but compare this market area to those we’ve experienced in other countries. For a Latin American comparison, the vendors are far more aggressive in Brazil than here. In Brazil, it is not acceptable to be rude, but they are politely very pushy, So far, in all the market stalls we’ve visited in Lima, the people are very soft-spoken and gentle. They are willing to bargain, but they do not wave their goods in your face and try to convince you to buy. Far more subtle than any other markets we’ve ever shopped.

I suspect when we return to Lima next week, I’ll have may more observations about the culture and how it compares to our experiences in Brazil. My initial impression is that Lima is a large, crowded city. A little shabby, but very clean for a population of 9 million people. 

Lima

Yesterday was rough. We didn't get to our hotel and to bed until 6am. Our tour was supposed to leave at 9:30. But we didn’t know that. So due to miscommunication, I missed not only breakfast, but the bus. At least I was able to join the group later by taxi.

My first stop with the group was the Chorillos fish market. It was a small fishing port for local family fisherman. They build their boats, make their nets, catch the fish, sell their catch and have little restaurants right there to serve it. We were there too early to eat, as they were just setting up for the morning. The fish and other assorted unknown seafood entities looked fresh and beautiful. Larry doesn't think this photo even looks like seafood.

We visited the Larco Museum which houses an extensive collection of Peruvian artifacts that have been excavated over the years. I was particularly intrigued by the unusually shaped ceramic jugs. It was an excellent overview of ancient Peruvian culture.

Our welcome dinner was held at a beautiful restaurant on a pier here in the Miraflores section of Lima. From our table by the window, we could see (and feel) rather large Pacific waves crashing into the pylons, shaking the whole building. Sometimes they crashed with such force, we couldn’t hear the conversation.

A central topic at our dinner table was concern about altitude sickness when we arrive in Cuzco tomorrow. Everyone at the table plans to take the preventive medication, but at a table of ten, no two people had the same number of pills or the same dosing instructions. I only have four days worth, whereas someone else has thirty. Makes you wonder who’s right. Hopefully everyone! I guess we’ll know by tomorrow night.

I’ll be writing about the culinary aspects of our trip at www.tastemonials.net. Check it out if you want to see what Peruvian delicacies we’ve eaten.

Saturday afternoon, still at SFO

We are not off to an ideal start. Although the airline website says we departed on time, it's hours later and we're still sitting here. There is currently a five hour posted delay. We spent three hours standing in line to check in. We thought our process should be easier than the people who were missing connections and having to re-book and rearrange, but no such luck. Our reservation had disappeared. Somehow it all got straightened out (except for the delay) and we got free lunch for our inconvenience.

The good part about the long wait was that we met some great people while standing in line. One couple about our ages were headed to Buenos Aires and then Patagonia. I think their travels are going to be really messed up. Also, a delightful young couple trying to get home to Sao Paulo from their vacation in San Francisco. We were well entertained for the three hours comparing food and travel stories.

Hopefully we'll depart in another hour and a half and we'll arrive in Lima at about 5am. Ugh. I hate flying all night.