Tudo Esta Bem

After our jaunt in the big city we headed north along the coast to the colonial town of Paraty. The old cobblestone streets are closed off in the center and at night people fill the streets- cake vendors out of carts, horses, live music, artists and restaurants in the street. We visited nearby beaches and took a surf lesson for a day. Our next stop was Ilha Grande, the huge island just off the coast. We took the local ferry there and did a day boat trip of the various bays and beaches on the island. The weather was chilly and rainy but we still managed to enjoy the beauty around us. Eventually we returned to the mainland and made one last journey north- to Rio. The city was much more pleasant than its southern neighbor, São Paulo. As we arrived, Joe tapped my shoulder and pointed up at the Christ the redeemer statue atop the mountain. We had finally made it to Rio, our final destination, and a bittersweet feeling slowly sank in.

We spent our time visiting more art museums, walking through parks and seeing other tourist destinations, like the mosaic stairs and sugarloaf mountain. We walked along the shores of the famous Copacabana beach and had a night out in the Lapa district. 

Brazil has been wonderful to us. Being a Portugese speaking country, it has given me an appreciation for communication. The past months I've been in Spanish speaking countries and although I'm not completely fluent, my ability has been sufficient to get me from place to place without a problem. Portugese is somewhat similar to Spanish but entirely different at the same time. Our ability to communicate was extremely limited and it forced me to think about what my trip would have been like had I not been able to speak the language. There were so many scenarios that I would have missed out on had I lacked the skill of communication. 

Our last day was a sunny one. We sat on the beach and watched all the people. Brazilian swimsuits, groups of people playing beach games, guys selling sunglasses and improvised bars made of styrofoam coolers. 

Tudo esta bem (All is well)

The Truth About Traveling

I feel like so often travel is a glorified concept. Undeniably, it's my passion and I love my life of travel but there are definitely times when travel is hard. There are times, like right now, where we've been waiting around for the past eight hours and it's a blazing 90 degrees outside. There are times when I feel so alone and times when I miss my friends and my family more than anything. And then, there are times when the lack of peanut butter in this continent takes over my thoughts completely and I lie awake just thinking about Adam's crunchy peanut butter.
This is something I put together to honor all the moments of traveling (the good and the bad) and to encompass every aspect as a whole.


travel is talking with strangers on bus rides
travel is walking in pouring rain for days
travel is sleeping in hostels with scorpions
travel is tasting exotic foods
travel is eating buckets of rice and potatoes
travel is trying to cross the road in rush hour
travel is riding a bike in the blazing sun
travel is waiting for hours on end
travel is playing cards all day in the tent
travel is being lost
travel is trusting strangers
travel is getting your things stolen
travel is receiving random acts of kindness
travel is reflecting on what you want to do
travel is falling in love with new places
travel is making lifelong friends
travel is finding a home wherever you are
travel is promoting tolerance
travel is challenging your fears
travel is learning by experience
travel is finding faith in humanity
travel is inspiring yourself to do great
travel is hard
travel is exhausting
travel is intimidating
travel is life changing

Brazil Bound

After a long and tedious process of applying for our visas last minute at the Brazilian consulate in Iguazu, we finally got the little sticker in our passports we've been waiting for! The old grumpy Portuguese man didn't make the process easy on us- he made us take several runs to the print shop to print and re-print our documents. Our middle names weren't on one so of course, we had to re-do that one too.
Brazil is a HUGE country, the fifth largest in the world to be precise. Getting on a bus to São Paulo with no expectations. All we know are the following things:
1) the currency is called Reals
2) São Paulo has more than 27 million people
3) a smidge of Portuguese- practicing on the handy duo lingo app, I can now confidently say "the cat drinks milk" and "I like pineapple and beer." Duo Lingo likes to announce at the end of each round that I'm 2% fluent in the target language.
Bags packed again, sunscreen in hand- we're ready for the beaches!!

Iguazu Falls

Iguazu

Iguazu falls sits at the junction between Paraguy, Brazil and Argentina. It is the fourth widest waterfall in the world and the second most popular attraction in Brazil, according to trip advisor.

Our first sight of Iguazu was from the motor boat we took up the river. Joe and I both were in awe at its size, though we were well aware that it was going to be huge. The boat we were in took us right up the river, over the rapids, and to the base of the falls. From there, we knew we were going to get wet. A glorious shower awaited us. The driver took us right into the splashing water and we were instantly drenched. The crashing noises were the only thing we could hear. 

Sufficiently soaked and very pleased, we spent the rest of our day admiring the falls from the various board walks and view points. Entire arcs of rainbows filled the sky when conditions were right and the constant rumbling noise was peaceful and very energetic. Iguazu falls was unlike anything I've ever seen and it was a beautiful day spent in the national park. 

(I'll try to post a picture of it but if that doesn't work, I recommend googling it so you can have a glimpse of its beauty :)

Buenos Aires, Argentina

Our time spent in the lively capital city was short but sweet. We passed our days wandering the old colonial streets and visiting the famous modern art museums in the bustling Palermo district. We saw a wide variety of art including a modern interactive installation and Frida Kahlo's self portrait with monkey and bird. 

In an attempt to adjust to the local Argentinian clocks (sleeping in until around 10, eating a late breakfast, a merienda afternoon snack, taking a siesta, and eating dinner no sooner then 11 because clubs don't open until 1) we ate and slept like the locals. We found a neat club on Saturday night with live music and were happy to be the only foreigners there. We called it quits early (3:30 am) and decided our "American inner clocks" had rendered us weak against the argentine crowd. 

Sunday morning was drizzling rain but perfect for the famous market in San Telmo. Wandering the street (the market was about 20 blocks) we quickly discovered that this was no normal farmers market. Small booths sold artisan crafts, handmade jewelry, and strange antique trinkets; as if all the elderly people decided to start selling the old things they found in their basement trunks. People played music on the street and sold empanadas out of baskets. 

To finish off our day of wandering, we headed to a place called Catedral for some famous Argentina tango lessons. In the seemingly abandoned warehouse, we learned to dance in sync with each other and with the music. After an hour of trying not to step on one another's feet and occasionally getting the right move, we watched the experienced people dance under the spotlights.

Our Journey South

Over the course of the past month, we've walked more than one hundred miles through the Patagonia backcountry with our packs on. The past weeks have been filled with several treks in some of the most beautiful mountain scenery I've ever seen. 

We started our journey in Bariloche, Argentina where we visited mountain refugios and climbed up and over countless ridge lines and through incredible valleys. Next we went to El Chalten where we trekked around the famous fitz Roy skyline, enjoying the view of glacial lakes, bright blue glaciers and the crisp face of Mount Fitz Roy. After this we headed south to Calafate, joining the tourist circuit as we watched the Perito Moreno Glacier for a day- listening to it creek and moan as the entire mass slowly crept it's way toward us. Next we crossed back into the Chilean side and went to Puerto Natales, a port city- and that's really all. We took a bus north to the famous national park Torres Del Paine where we slept in a magical forest and hiked up to the lake by the Torres ("towers") for sunrise. Along with the long line of headlamps hiking up in the early morning, we watched as the sun ignited the mountain; assaulting it with color.

To round off our big 100, we finished our journey south. We took a long bus to the city of Ushuaia, Argentina. To get there we had a long day of driving and at one point got onto a big ferry boat (bus and all) to cross the Magellan Straight. Ushsuaia is the southernmost city in the world, at almost 55 degrees south. It is an island where the beautiful park of Tierra Del Fuego is located. (The name, "land of fire" comes from the sailors who discovered the island. The indigenous people didn't wear many clothes, despite the freezing cold, so they had many huge fires constantly all over the island) Our final trek took us to a snowy lake where we explored an ice cave at the base of a glaciar. We spent a night on the thick, damp moss that covers every surface possible and another night on the bank of a river next to beaver dams, with a view of the valley just starting to change colors. This was the least touristic trek we had done yet and after the first day, we had the entire park to ourselves. We slept at a beautiful blue lake the last night and journeyed over a mountain pass and down a gradual, rocky valley the next day. We returned to the city with tired but extremely satisfied legs and treated ourselves to a feast of crab and cordero (Patagonian style fire grilled lamb) before we left the cold south. 

The feeling I get when I'm hiking through the mountains is indescribable and I absolutely loved a certain moment, hiking through the pass on our last day. Although I have definitely been in bigger mountains before, the gentle giants that surrounded us made me feel so small. Joe, walking way ahead of me, looked like a tiny ant compared to the gigantic masses rising up on both sides. Maybe, I thought, this is one of the reasons am so drawn to the  mountains. Do we come here to get small? There are plenty of other things that appeal to me but I loved this feeling. I loved where we were and have really enjoyed our time of hiking through beautiful, untouched wildernesses. 

Until next time Patagonia. 

Perito Moreno

Though it is really the only thing to see in the town, a trip to Parque Nacional Los Glaciares was well worth it. We walked the boardwalk all day, admiring the different views of the unfathomable gigantic ice mass. 180 feet of vertical faces out of the bright blue lake, 14 km long and up to 500 feet of ice below the surface of the water- it was one BIG chunk of ice. 

As we walked, we listened to the constant cracking and moaning. The noises were loud and abrupt and somewhat resembled the sound of gunshots. Immediately our eyes would dart to the glacier, scouting the edge for a piece that was falling into the water. We watched a few huge chunks calve and were frozen by the sight of it. The waves rippled and crashed as the water enveloped the new piece of ice. 

Visiting the glacier was a great reminder how how powerful nature is. Though often glorified, Mother Nature can be harsh, destructive- unstoppable. The power and force from the glowing blue mass is almost too much to wrap my brain around. 

Sheer, absolute beauty.

The Dirtbag Diaries

The past few weeks we've spent in the company of glorious mountains, cheerful outdoor folk from all walks of life, frigid glacial lakes and autumn trees that are timidly starting to transform into an explosion of colors. We've covered a lot of ground recently and every day holds its own adventure- even if it consists solely of sitting in the tent and listening to the pattering rain overhead. 

We trekked to the various climbing Refugios near Bariloche where we saw the sunset on incredible granite spires, climbed up (and down, and back up again) ridge after ridge, "hill" after hill and down loose rock fields. We ate countless servings of oatmeal and tried our hand at bringing eggs into the backcountry. We discovered the magic of a homemade Argentinian alfajor after a brutal day of hiking and played cards in the candlelight of the rustic climbing refuge cabins. 

To give our legs a rest we took a 23 hour bus to the south and did some more trekking. Go figure. I woke up to the glorious view of the Fitz Roy skyline as we pulled into El Chalten. The sun was just coming up and the peaks and glaciers were glowing rosy pink. The full moon was just about to set, hanging over the face of Mount Fitz Roy. 

We quickly discovered that the town itself was very limited and settled on the word "skimpy" as the best adjective to describe it.

After we managed to scrounge up a map and seemingly enough food for the coming days, we were off and back into the mountains. We hiked to beautiful glacial lakes and sat atop glacial moraines, staring at the glowing blue masses. For a good bulk of our trip we had some weather and learned  our lesson about rain in Patagonia. The last morning I stepped out of the tent and let out a small shriek as I realized the mountain was showing. Finally! We had been waiting to see it the past two days and the feeling of elation when we finally did was almost overwhelming. 

Every twist and turn in the trail revealed a new view of something incredible and beautiful in its own way. Joe's always waiting for me because a) I'm slower but b) I'm practically spinning in circles with my head in the clouds, just enjoying the show. 

We get back to town and head for the bakery- the lady recognizes us by now because we've become somewhat addicted to her dulce de leche pastries. 

Mountain life is good to us. Undeniably we really enjoy all the delicious foods we cook when we get back to civilization, like the Philly cheese steaks we made last night for dinner, but canned tuna and "listo arroz" (ready rice) will definitely suffice in the meantime. Back on the bus now and headed south. 

Going South

Reclined in my retro-patterned, velvety seat, I sit back and enjoy the show. The sun hits the linear scratches in the window and gives the outside world a slightly purple, faded-polaroid kind of filter. The tourist next to me is sleeping and her head keeps violently swaying from side to side with each turn and curve. Every once in a while she wakes up and closes the corriagated curtains. Does she even know what she's missing out on? Does she have any idea the magnitude of beautify that is hiding behind that hideous mustard colored fabric? Clearly not. She's back asleep now so I shift my view to the left. There's a couple drinking matte and looking outside then occasionally looking at each other as if to make sure the other one is seeing the same thing. 

We are in the Lakes district and have only been in Argentina for several hours now. 

The woman next to me pushes away the curtains and the movie resumes. Paul Simon is singing in my head and my eyes are feasting on the landscape. 

The hills are dry and barren. It must be windy here and as a result, only golden grass covers the dirt mounds; swaying back and forth like oscillating waves. Steep cliffs of red, lunar rock line the edges of the hills. In the distance, tree-less mountains fill the horizon. They are jagged and sharp and have rock spires that jut out straight to the sky, like a seedling growing towards the sun. We pass the occasional forest- a clump of short pine trees- but there is relatively no vegetation. Instead, the bright colors come from the lakes. We have yet to drive more than five minutes and not see one. They are enormous and appear to be very deep. Their dark blue color gives them a crisp contrast to their surroundings. The beaches are like combed lines of eroded white pebbles, lining the edges of blue and highlighting the irregularity of shape.

It's one of the most beautiful and unique landscapes I've ever seen. I think the woman next to me has also just had that realization too. She's trying not to fall asleep. 

A Hidden Gem in the Middle of the Pacific

Easter island, the most remote, habitable island in the world.
"Rapa Nui’s mysterious moai statues stand in silence but speak volumes about the achievements of their creators. The stone blocks, carved into head-and-torso figures, average 13 feet (4 meters) tall and 14 tons. The effort to construct these monuments and move them around the island must have been considerable—but no one knows exactly why the Rapa Nui people undertook such a task. Most scholars suspect that the moai were created to honor ancestors, chiefs, or other important personages, However, no written and little oral history exists on the island, so it’s impossible to be certain." 
-National Geographic 

On the four and a half hour plane ride from mainland Chile to the speck in the Pacific called Rapa Nui, ones mind can't help but wonder what's to come. Joe and I had seen only photos of the giant heads before and I had read some about the islands history, mostly about its society's demise due to environmental reasons, but beyond this we knew nothing more. We knew not about the feelings of awe and confusion we would experience while looking up at the giant statues. We knew not about how they were made and knew nothing about how they were transferred. We knew nothing about the size of the island, the nature of its locals, or what there was to do, and with this lack of pre-conceived notions- we were in the perfect situation to be absolutely blown away.
For our first day on the island, we rented some rusty bikes and hit the road with a map lacking any detail, to say the least. We rode under the Eucalyptus trees, along the countryside road and over the island completely to the other side. We parked our bikes at the entrance to our first Moai, and walked on the white sandy beach towards the brilliant blue water. The heads stood in a line, their backs to the water, all wearing slightly different expressions. One had a Pukao, the stone hat (usually around 8 tons) that's sits atop their heads.  This was only the start to a week of wandering.
From there we continued in a loop along the coast, baking in the harsh sun light. The feeling of awe and curiosity only seemed to amplify as the day went on. At one site, there were fifteen statues standing in a line, enormous in their presence. We kneeled at their base in silence as I shifted focus from face to face, discovering the differences of each individual.
The next site, Rano Raraku, was the stone quarry in the crater of the volcano where the rocks were carved from the ground then transported to the rest of the island. It was fascinating to see the origin of the gigantic creations and somewhat uncomfortable- noticing the dozens of statues still in the rock, left behind almost as abruptly as the culture that died off with them.
We finished our 30-mile bike tour with one last hill and a downhill cruise into town as the sun began to turn orange. Complete with a gourmet seafood meal watching the waves and sunset, we were all smiles and sufficiently tired for a good nights rest.
Throughout our week on the island, we experienced no lack of adventure. One day we hiked to the nearby volcano of Orongo. At the top we were rewarded with a view down into the lush protected environment inside the volcano. we walked to the edge of the rim where the 300ft cliffs dropped down straight to the crashing ocean waves below.
We walked around the short houses with small entrances, several feet of stacked shale rocks. The houses used to hold the indigenous people during their annual bird man festival; a ceremony where the men would paddle across the open water to the nearby islet on a palm trunk and wait for the sea birds to come. The one to collect the first egg of the head was pronounced bird man, or tangata-manu and would have special rights and privileges throughout the year.
One day we took our bikes back out and ended up riding up a dirt road to the top of the tallest volcano on the island. Our tired legs were well worth the 360 view atop and the adrenaline of riding down, alongside the horses and soft grass. Thanks to the detail of our wonderful map, it was inevitably so that we got lost. Check.
The last bike stop for the day was Las Cavernas, the lava tube caves where the Rapa Nui people grew pants, lived, and hid out during times of war. The caverns were huge and seemingly infinite. From one room to another, we wandered around with our flashlights and occasionally stumbled upon a cliff lookout to the sea. We found one hidden lava tube and were forced to crawl on our stomachs to pass. Unknowing what was ahead, we were dumbfounded with the view once we reached the light at the end of the tunnel.
Our last day on the island was spent trying to catch the waves while simultaneously trying not to scrape the bottom, the sharp coral-covered bottom. We paddled through the warm salty water and enjoyed our last hours in the whimsical place we were.
Easter Island by far surpassed any and all expectations I had. It was much more than simply big stone heads and torsos. 

Easter Island

sitting, staring, waiting,
they've been looking at this for ages;
now we kneel in front,
our gazes meet;
only a speckle of sand in their lifetime,
a boulder in ours;
in their hands they hold the key-
knowledge from decades past,
etched in their minds of stone,
cut from the earth with human hands,
with human force;
oh the things they must know

Onto Different Places; Chile

The past week, I've had the good fortune of traveling with my cousins from Denver. Meeting them in the vibrant city of Santiago, Chile, we enjoyed our first days roaming the city and exploring several sites. 

We drove down south to the small town of Caracautín where we visited the nearby Conguillio National Park. Our first experience with the Chilean outdoors was a success and we filled an entire day with 

hiking through a Jurassic landscape- with foreign trees, bright lakes, black stones and conical volcanoes rising up on all three sides of us. We wandered through a seemingly enchanted forest and were enamored by the orange flowers, illuminated from behind their veins were glowing gold on the forest floor. Our experience in nature was beautiful and unlike any landscape than we'd ever seen.

The next day we hit the road again and by noon we found ourselves in the heart of Chilean wine country: the Colchagua Valley. Coincidentally, our timing was impeccable and our first day there was the beginning of Fesival Vendimia, their annual harvest festival. We spent our time touring gorgeous vineyards, wineries, tasting an assortment of wine then going to the festival and trying even more. I learned all about the process of wine making and different varieties of wine. The festival was set up like a farmers market- artisan crafts, wine, and cheese stands. We sat in the grassy park of Santa Cruz and sipped on a Malbec, comparing its taste to the previous carmeneré we tried and taking a delicious bite of goat cheese in between. 

We had a really neat time together during our Chilean visit and as we liked to put it, we feasted on "a plate of Chilean appetizers" -trying a variety of different things. 

#HATCHLatAm16

"There were three and a half days in the Panamanian jungle. Students with astronauts, Emmy award winners, journalists, inventors, musicians and entrepreneurs gathered. The event served as a trigger to break down the walls that limit access to information and ideas.

Questions, answers, smiles, tears, sweat and company shared the audience at the Institute Kalu Yala, located in the community of Tres Brazos in La Mesa Pacora."

                     -Anaximena Esquivel (La Prensa)

I am so honored to have had the opportunity to participate in HATCH- by far one of the most transformative experiences of my life. I spent a week in Panama, surrounded by the most inspiring people and brilliant minds.

Yarrow Kraner, the founder, developed HATCH with the idea to bring people together to help reach a common goal and this mission is very apparent upon arriving- everyone is there to help each other and to work together rather than compete. 

HATCH took place at Kalu Yala, an institute started by Jimmy Stice, in the Panamanian jungle. The mission is to build the world's most sustainable town. The students there are divided between the various programs and hard at work designing, researching and developing things for the future town. 

Riding in the back of a pickup on the way there, it quickly became obvious that where we were going was a very unique place. Once we arrived the interns and staff greeted us with the warmest smiles and directed us to our rooms- about one hundred different tents in a big open field. We dropped our things and fled to the river, "the rio" as the students call it, to cool down. 

That evening we ate a deliciously gourmet meal freshly cooked by the farm to table program in the glowing light of solar-powered lanterns. It was a great way to start the week to come, and truly only the tip of the iceberg. 

The next day was the beginning, and all the HATCHers fled in from all different parts of North and South America. The Kalu Yala institute was instantaneously filled with diverse, interesting, accomplished and incredibly intelligent people. Conversations during every meal were often a combination of mind-blowing and inspiring. I would be sitting under the night sky with an astrophysicist to my left, and artist to my right, a marketing expert next to me and an engineer across from me, discussing an array of topics. 

In the mornings there were workshops like farm tours and yoga sessions where we focused on the synchronization of breath. After breakfast, we sat in the amphitheater and listened to presenters speak about their passions, their experiences, their successes and their stories. Throughout the days we participated in several group workshops; one of which was setting our intention for the event, our "ask" in other words. This challenged me to think about what it was that I needed help with or guidance with and forced me to be straightforward and to just ask. I feel like we are so often taught to be independent and self-sufficient that we are frequently discouraged to admit when we need help. This exercise broke down that barrier and made us form our wishes into plain and simple terms.

Another exercise we participated in was identifying our inner superheroes. We determined our names and our super powers and in smaller groups, we talked about ourselves in third person from the perspective of our superhero. This was a really eye opening way to think about our lives and it really helped put things into perspective. We would sit in an intimate group of unfamiliar faces and speak about ourselves and the struggles or successes we are currently facing. When we finished speaking, the members in our group would ask questions like how we, the superhero, can help our human or how we can use our powers. In text this may seem like a childish or even cheesy exercise but in reality it was very powerful.

After reconvening and listening to intriguing talks about the environment and how our world is changing, the HATCHers divided into three groups- sustainability, creativity and entrepreneurship. We then pinpointed certain issues and would brainstorm solutions. We all made a commitment to follow through and take action even after the event finished. With the array of people in our groups, there was no lack of knowledge nor experience and everyone brought something unique and valuable to the table. The sustainability group discussed ways to use art to communicate climate change and we brainstormed various ways to incentivize reducing the use of single use plastics. We also talked about the very obvious effects climate change is having on local people in rural areas of developing countries- such as entire islands getting wiped out due to rising ocean waters- and pondered how we could spread awareness about the changing climate.

When our minds were filled to the brim with ideas and thoughts, we would break for an incredible meal, like ceviche in cantaloupe. We would meet new people every night at dinner and with full stomachs, listen to more speeches and eventually live music by various artists from various different backgrounds. Tired and worn out from the day, we wandered back to our tent village and drifted to sleep, excited to see what the next day would hold. 

After three days of living off the grid in the peaceful jungle, we loaded into cattle cars and returned to civilization. We were brought to a modern and luxurious hotel in Panama City- a stark contrast to the conditions we had just come from. Our closing ceremony consisted of 125 people on a boat during sunset in the Panama Canal, smiling and laughing as we attempted to dance in the swaying waves.

I am so grateful for this experience and really looking forward to see the things that will come out of it. I am inspired and motivated to do good.  #becauseofHATCH

To read more about...

• HATCH: https://hatchexperience.org/hatch-latin-america-set-to-launch-feb-17-21-kalu-yala-panama/

•Kalu Yala: http://m.huffpost.com/us/entry/8628176

•The people who attended: https://hatchexperience.org/hatch-panama-2016-attendees/

•En Español: http://m.prensa.com/impresa/economia/Superheroes-citan-Panama_0_4425307446.html

Amazonian Adventures

To conclude my wonderful travels with my dad and Erinn, we took an overnight bus to Puerto Maldonado in the Amazon then a rickety old wooden boat to a lodge in the Amazon. We had fun at night playing cards and admiring the stars- swatting away the bugs. We took the rusty boat out by day and explored a variety of different places. Two of our days were spent at Lago Sandoval, a big lake on a protected reserve. As we got onto our little wooden canoe we started paddling through the thick swampy water, listening to the Erie noises that filled the air. In the distance, it seemed as though wild monsters were roaming free and gave the whole experience a feeling as though we were boating through Jurassic Park. Howler monkeys screamed their wild calls and other noises of birds echoed from all sides. As we paddled through the water eventually the trees opens up and the beautiful lake was revealed in sunlight. We spotted a turtle perched on a log out of the water and a swarm of bright butterflies encircled its head, like colorful splotches of paint. Towards the middle of the lake there were otters playing, squeaking and chirping unlike anything we'd heard before. We ate traditional food from the Amazon region and swung in hammocks while the rain splashed and cooled our sweaty skin. One morning when we went for a hike to see Maccaws, we heard the branches swaying and colliding in from of us and watched as little specks turned into jumping monkeys. The squirrel monkeys hopped from tree to tree, catching themselves with whichever limb available. We watched as about one hundred of them jumped through the trees across the trail, right over our heads. Some were mothers and jumped slower as their babies clung to their backs. It was an incredible experience and I had to pinch myself as a reminder that is was real.

Misty Moments and Macchu Picchu

Macchu Picchu. The holy grail of Peruvian tourist destinations.
Although the ruins are nothing more structurally impressive than something you would find in the city of Cusco, the location is absolutely mind blowing and will leave you sitting on one of its terraces for hours on end, scratching your head as you wonder how they did it and why they chose to build it where they did. Perched on the top of a ridgeline with steep cliffs on both sides, its an incredible feat.
Every day thousands of tourists flood into this place, taking the bus up the steep and tight switchbacks. Despite the abundancy of people with matching hiking clothes and colorful rain ponchos, the magical feeling doesn't seem to dissipate and the energy felt while walking through the ruins in undeniable.
Hiking up to one of the mountains, either Montaña Macchu Picchu or Huayna Picchu affords an incredible view from above, looking down at the mystery that is Macchu Picchu. Though many people offer guided services with tours of all the areas, many of the sites still remain a mystery and one will quickly learn that Peruvians tend to say anything just to shut people up sometimes. With a blank slate, wandering through the ruins allows one to wander through their mind, letting creativity and imagination spin off into deep corners of the mind.
Macchu Picchu is absolutely incredible. 

Magical Mist

The mist conceals the magnificent peaks above as if they're shyly hiding their beauty and grandeur. It gives us an entirely new level of appreciation because we are only permitted to view bits and pieces at a time, forced to combine the puzzle in our minds. We sit, concentrating on the bright white mass in front of our eyes, with a fear that if we look away we very well might miss a magical glimpse through the layer of fog. Every once in a while we are granted with a view and stunned with its glory. This five-second image sticks in our minds and makes us hungry for more. We have a voracious appetite now that we know the possibilities of what's out there. 

Occasionally we hear a thunderous roar in the distance. We listen as a huge mass of glacier falls, tumbling and crushing down thousands of feet. The sounds are amplified because all else remains quiet. It makes us even hungrier to see more. To see what else is out there. 

Sometimes a warm cloud bubbles up from the valley below and we are sprinkled with minuscule droplets. We breathe the fresh air and despite how high we are, our lungs thank us. 

The mist is beautiful. There's a certain energy that accompanies it. A mysterious and eerie feeling in the air. It has a particular way of moving too. From above, it's as if the mist contains a thousand tiny ballerinas, twirling and swirling their way up the mountainside. Each with its own, unique choreography. 

El Día de San Valentín

I arrived in Cusco early in the morning on the 14th and walked through the Plaza de Armas one last time. This city has been my home base for the past two months and I have grown fond of its cobble stone streets, Spanish churches, Incan ruins and happy bustling city vibes. The sun shone down on the plaza as traditional Peruvian flute music drifted through the warm air. Couples walked the street hand in hand and flowers and red balloons filled the city. 

The one main difference however, between the traditional American and the traditional Peruvian Valentine's Day, was the water. In addition to the roses in hand, people strolled the streets armed with water balloons, squirt guns, silly spray and buckets of soapy, sudsy water. 

I walked through the plaza watching as sporadic battles between people broke out, foolishly thinking that I would be immune to the Peruvian tradition. I was wrong. In the end, I rode to the airport with a soaked and soapy shirt, dripping face and a taxi driver nervously double checking that I didn't get any water in my eyes, "esta contaminado" he said.

Felíz día de San Valentín to all!!!

Colca Canyon

In the Incan religion, the trilogy consists of a snake, a puma and a condor. The snake, or "serpiente," represents the underworld and the past. The puma is placed in between the snake and the condor and represents the land, "la tierra" and the present moment, the here and now. Above the two soars the famous Andean Condor, representing the next phase. It is said that the condor flies as a messenger from the gods to the people here on earth. For this reason, it is considered a very sacred bird to many Peruvians. The condor is one of the largest birds that is able to fly. These heavy and huge birds rely solely on the wind, gliding effortlessly and gracefully through the thermal currents above. 

On the first day of my trek through the Colca Canyon, one of these huge birds magestically floated over our heads. According to our guide, this was a good omen and he was granting us safe access through his home, the magnificent Colca Canyon. 

Claimed to be the second deepest canyon in the world, The tremendous cliffs and canyon walls were a beautiful place to wander for three days. On the first we hiked down into the canyon where we stayed in a family hostel near the river. For our second day we walked along the canyon bottom, passing through several very small and remote communities. Inside the canyon is a dry and barren dessert so we were very excited to see the oasis where we would be staying that night. Complete with palm trees and running water into bright blue swimming pools, we enjoyed our afternoon in the sun before hiking up and out of the canyon the following day.

Arequipa

One of the beautiful things about traveling is the spontaneity. One moment I was on a bus with a plan to go to the city of Juliaca to work on a farm, and the next I was buying an overnight bus ticket to the southern city of Arequipa with my new Belgium friend. Sometimes it's simply necessary to listen to the what the universe is telling us.
Arequipa was a wonderful city. It's nick-named the "white city" because of all the beautiful white buildings (compared to the darker stone constructions in Cusco and Lima).
While in the city, my new friend Stephanie and I walked the bustling streets, ate delicious foods and learned some history. We also managed to take a chocolate class and made delicious organic chocolates starting from cacao beans.
Being from a mountain town originally, it's always nice to enjoy a few days of city life. We would sip our coffee with breakfast from the terrace roof of our hostel and look at the three huge surrounding volcanoes while enjoying the sunshine and perfectly pleasant temperature.

A Day in the Life: Clinics in Cochabamba

Our team wakes up every morning around 7 am. I lie in my bed, half-awake, wondering what the day will bring. We throw on our dirty scrubs and walk downstairs for breakfast. We greet our lovely hosts, Carmen and Richard with a kiss on the cheek and a "buenos dias," and their two young children run and jump into our arms for a warm good morning hug.

After breakfast we load our plastic drawers of medications and vitamins into the bus waiting outside the gate. We stack the boxes of supplies then hop aboard. While we are watching the world whirling by through the window, our coordinator, Kristy, is giving us a run-down for the day. She's telling us about the place we are going to visit and the story about how it started. 

Eventually we arrive outside the doors of our destination and take a deep breath. The preacher or director of the ministry greets us with a warm and grateful smile as we walk around to shake the hands of those who have already started to gather; girls with popsicles, bashful little boys and elderly women with pleaded skirts and wide-brimmed hats. 

As we begin our daily task of setting up the clinic, curious eyes watch our actions and we pause every once in a while to take a picture of the cheerful families. We have developed a system by now and are busy setting up our farmacy and organizing our consultation rooms.

Eventually we are ready to begin and the first patient comes to sit between Melissa and I. We say hello, introduce ourselves, and begin the sequence of questions. I watch Melissa listen to their heart and lungs then she smiles and tells them how good everything sounds. We write down their "diagnistico" on a piece of paper and I explain to them in Spanish the medications we are going to give them and how to take them. They smile and say thank you and walk out the door to the farmacy, where Kristy is waiting to give out the medications in a little bag with handwritten directions. She is our team leader and runs the show alongside the Bolivian doctors, Claudia and Maria. 

Some patients come in crying after Kim, our team member who pokes the finger of every child, strategically takes a drop of their blood. We can hear her re-assuring the sobbing kids in the other room. Repeatedly saying "Los siento," a touch of her southern accent and motherly tone subtly seeps into her Spanish. 

Throughout the day we will see a variety of medical ailments but several are very common and reoccurring. We see severe cavities and tooth decay in many of the children. I politely ask if they brush their teeth and they take their lollipop out of their mouth as a smile stretches across their faces, "cinco veces cada día" they say. 

Some of the things we see sadden our hearts. Mel and I talk with one young child who has gone five days without eating. We give her a banana and watch her slowly eat it- little by little. It's hard for us to wrap our brains around the idea of this and once she walks away our emotions take over and we look at each other with the same face; a mutual feeling of devastation and helplessness.

We continue our day, helping treat the lice, scabies, parasites, ear infections and everything else that walks through the door. I watch Mel do the physical exams and smile as she tickles the children after feeling their stomach for pains. 

Most of the children we see are incredibly kind and polite. The majority of them walked themselves to our clinic and are there all alone. Some have never seen a doctor before in their lives. 

Sometimes my job as a translator includes talking to worried parents about their children. One day we had a child come in with a broken arm in a cloth sling and most of our consult consisted of coaxing the mother into letting us see his arm. Other times, there are no parents and we watch the older siblings gently taking care of their younger brothers or sisters. In many cases, these older kids have raised their younger siblings more than their parents have. 

We make a good team and by the end of our first day we have already figured out our system. By now we're tired and sit down for lunch. We load our boxes of medicines and vitamins back into the bus and shake hands and give hugs. As we are pulling away, they wave to us from the gate with a big smile on their faces and a baggie of medicine in their hands.

Undeniably most of their vitamin supply will eventually run out and their parasites will return. Although we will not be coming back soon and the children may go for weeks, months or even years before seeing the next doctor, we are giving them hope, hope that someone somewhere out there cares about their well being. 

In the bus ride home, we listen to Kristy's fascinating stories from the places she has travelled. We are inspired by what she has accomplished and grateful to be working on her team. I talk with her about how to truly make a difference and she explains to me the idea of positive deviance.

We eat a delicious home cooked Bolivian dinner and play cards before bed. Our hearts are happy and we are tired so we drift into a peaceful night of rest, all the while preparing ourselves for another day.

Throughout our week in Cochabamba we will help roughly 200 children. We will visit the ministry for disabled children, for children living in the red light district, for children living in poverty in the city and for children in the outskirts of town. We will work in a variety of different places and meet a wonderful group of people who have dedicated their lives to helping these kids. We will be inspired by the stories we hear and will fall in love with the kind-hearted people we meet. 

http://www.positivedeviance.org/

La Paz, Bolivia

The city of Peace.
I spent several days in La Paz just wandering around and taking in the city and the mountains surrounding. I took a walking city tour from my hostel and learned so many things about the history and the people of the city.  For example, there is a river that flows under the main road of the city and it used to be the dividing line between where the indigenous people and where the Spanish people lived.  

For our first stop, we walked to the city prison, written about in the book Marching Powder. It is the only prison that is fully run by the prisoners. The guards stand on the outside but the prison functions on its own on the other side of the wall. The government does not own the prison and once the prisoners enter, they have to pay an entrance fee and buy their cell. The more money they have, the nicer of a cell they can buy. In addition to this, the prisoner's wives and children live inside the prison with them. Most of the prisoners are serving time for drug trafficking but the strange thing is that many of them have cocaine laboratories inside the prison and it is said to be "one of the best sources of Cocaine in the country." I could talk for an hour about the prison but I would recommend reading the book if you are interested, it's absolutely fascinating!

The next city site we visited was the Mercado de las Brujas (the witches market). Here, the witches sell llama fetuses to give as offerings to Pacha Mama (mother earth God) when people build new houses, asking for her blessing to disrupt the tierra (earth). They also sell idols and potions and ceremonial things to burn asking blessing for anything and everything you could possibly imagine. The witches are specially selected to be a witch and they have a story of their own. In order to be a witch, one must be struck by lightening and survive. Their "powers" can be passed down to their oldest daughter and all the shops sell the exact same thing so one must "listen to their heart" to feel the pull of the most powerful witch.

Another wonderful thing about the city is the teleférico system. Basically, it is a system of cable cars used as public transport to efficiently and cheaply travel from one end of the city to the other. It's essentially a big gondola car that runs through the stations and the different lines run to different areas. In such a poverty affected country, it is so neat to see such modern and technologically advanced innovations that we don't even really have in the United States.

During one of my days in the city, I took a bus to Chalcataya, famously the world's highest altitude ski resort. I rode the bus up a steep and winding road to the small mountain refuge at 17,000ft. From there we walked up to the top of the mountain and enjoyed the view of the beautiful snow covered Andes all around us.

That afternoon, I visited La Valle de la Luna, a desert-like valley with crazy rock formations and bright red rocks. It was such a stark contrast to the mountains surrounding. 

In summary, La Paz was a very interesting visit. From the disparity in wealth to the wild landscapes, I really enjoyed exploring a new urban scape. 

Adrenaline in the Andes

After Brad and I finished our trek through the Cordilleras, we went to the beach for New Years then returned to Cusco. We spent a few days wandering the streets of the city and visting coffee shops, preparing for our next adventure: downhill mountain biking.
We took a colectivo to the beautiful Sacred Valley and stayed at a hostal in the town of Ollantaytambo. From our room, we had a view of the Incan military fort perched on the hillside. Our timing also proved to be very lucky because we happened to be in the town during the time of their four-day festival that happens once a year. During all times of the day, every day, for four days, people were singing and dancing, blowing on horns, banging on drums or lighting off fireworks. The cultural aspect was beautiful to see. One day we watched what appeared to be a dance battle from a balcony in the main square and on another afternoon we sat on an Incan terrace to watch a bullfight.
While we weren´t busy with the festivities, we were with Jose, our local downhill guide. We were driven up to 14,000 ft mountain passes then mounted our bikes and dropped down into some of the craziest trails. This far surpassed any biking I had previously done, We rode through small villages, past running baby llamas and down incredible valleys and on roads where cows sat, munching on grass.

Sufficiently Soaked: Chapter 5

Surprisingly, we woke up in the rain. We were wet. The tent was wet. The ground was wet. Everything was wet.

When life gives you lemons, you make lemonade. When you hike through the Peruvian Andes during the wet season, you make oatmeal and ramen in the rain, you splash into your shoes and you take a big gulp of that lemonade because it tastes damn good.
It was the last day of our trek and though it seemed like the rain would never end, we knew that the trail would so we marched on with our hoods synched tight and smiles on our faces. As we made our way down the vally, time and time again we encountered rivers washing out the trail. At this point, we had abandoned the hope of finding a dry alternative route on rocks. At each crossing we paused to admire the quantity of water cascading down the canyon walls, listen to the birds singing and once again, embrace the magnitude of our surroundings. We took a deep breath and walked across.
The landscape continued to change as we found ourselves in a lush, green forest which soon opened up to a sheep pasture, where a young girl tended to her sheep. There, we noticed the first signs of the small village below.
When you spend time amongst big mountains in the backcountry, the return to civilization can sometimes shock your system. Luckily, our choice to end in the town of Vaqueria softened our re-entry. For the next few hours, we meandered through a small, mountainside village, where farmers leisurely worked in their fields and children played freely- running up to greet us as we passed. As we crossed the creek one last time, we said goodbye to the small village and were assured by a kind woman that Vaqueria was "Just up the hill." As if willed by her warm smile, the rains stopped and the sun found its way through the clouds, instantaneously warming our soaked bodies.
Feeling our trek coming to an end, we slowed our pace as the trail steepened and we felt the gravity of the past four days. We shrugged our shoulders and laughed as the final ascent proved to be the most challenging. As we ascended higher and higher, the trail became a dirt road. We imagined that this place, Vaqueria, the one we had been walking towards for four day, would be a small Peruvian village. We began day dreaming of lunch in a quaint little cafe, in the Plaza de Armas. To our surprise, just as we felt we couldn´t walk any further or higher, the real Vaqueria appeared before our eyes. Little more than a road-side stop and a small, closed hostel, it still appeared a shangri-la to us.
We happily sat out in the sunny lawn and spread our things out to let the sun dry our bones. Despite the risk of being deserted at this closed, road-side attraction. We let the first colectivos roll by. For the moment, we savored the end of our trek.
Even though our journey was still to include wild mountain drives down hair-raising switch backs, hotsprings, beaches, fireworks, deserts, Incan ruins and even more mountains; for that moment, on that small patch of grass on the hillside in the sunshine, it was all enough.

Sufficiently Soaked: Chapter 4

Morning found us more or less warm, and pretty dry so we took our time. Stacking calories, stretching our legs and loading our packs, we were mentally preparing ourselves for the days climb. If yesterday was far, today we would walk high.

At the head of the Santa Cruz valley lies Punta Union Pass. At 15,600 feet, we had our work cut out for us. About 2,500 feet above camp, switch-backing up a steep and rocky mountainside, we resolved to take our time and enjoy the climb. 

Vertical climbs and huge mountains, venturing further and further away from home, and yet somehow it seems the smaller the world gets. As we watched a guided group descend from above, we first passed a team of mules carrying everything we had decided to put on our own backs. A few switchbacks later, I was elated to literally run into an Austrian friend who I had worked with on a farm in a tiny town in Ecuador. We hugged and exchanged some travel stories from the previous weeks then said our goodbyes. Even though the trail continued tosteepen  towards the pass, the excitement from coincidentally having encountered a friend in such a remote locale kept my spirits high.

With calm and measured steps, we reached Punta Union at high noon and sat to enjoy the view. It was some sort of raining but not quite snowing. We smiled, looking back down the valley, with fond memories of passing each specific landmark below. Nibbling on our snickers, we turned to look down the other side, the Harishampa Valley. The descent seemed more gradual than the ascent that we had just made, causing us to realize the reason why most people do it the other way. However, it was more than just the grade of the trail that caught our attention. While the Santa Cruz Valley held the characteristics of a high-alpine, wind-swept landscape, this new valley seemed more lush, with more trees and more lakes. With this realization, we couldn't help but wonder if this was the reason French momma seemed so overwhelmed by the rain.

One thing was for sure, we were soon to find out.
We made our way down the pass and were not yet an hour into our descent when the rain started to fall. We quickly realized this was a different type of rain too. This was a constant rain. This was a soaking rain. This was the Andean wet season rain.

Just as in the other valley, the trail was well marked, however there was one marked difference. In the Harishampa Valley, there was no trail. There was only a creek. The rain fell and the water flowed down the valley on all sides. Enormous waterfalls cascaded over the thousand-foot cliff walls and collided with raging rivers.

So this is what French momma was talking about. This is exactly what she was talking about. It was the kind of wet that made you even question the possibility of drought. The kind of wet that made you wonder if you would ever be dry again. We marched on towards camp. 

Squish, squish, squish.
We found high grounds to set up camp where we thought we would be protected from any rising waters. As luck would have it, while we pitched our tent it was only raining, as opposed to the deluge we had experienced previously.Once again, it would be a tent-bound dinner of ramen, and while the day had been wet, it hadn´t been all together too challenging. With still a bit of light left to the day, we played some cards and listened to the pattering symphony of rain overhead. 

Sufficiently Soaked: Chapter 3

There is a beautiful paradox, walking into the mountains. The higher you go with your heavy pack, the steeper the trail is yet the lighter you become, despite the rations of food and warm layers you carry on your shoulders - the weight of the world lifts from them and you begin to connect with the natural beauty of your surroundings. You catch your stride and you embrace the freedom that is adventure.

We opened our tent to find blue skies above and we smiled, thinking that all this talk about the Andean rain season was nothing more than myth. We ate a hearty breakfast, packed up our bags and carried on. 

There's an old saying about weather in the mountains, "If you don't like it, just wait five minutes and it will change."

We weren't even a mile into our day when we had to drop our heavy packs to dig out our rain gear, preparing for the dark clouds that were racing down the valley- straight for us. We sinched our hoods and agreed that we might be in for a soaker but barely twenty minutes later we pulled down our hoods laughing, barely damp from the storm. 

We stopped in awe as the first of the 20,000 ft peaks humbly revealed its grandeur. The realization of the magnitude of our surroundings charged our spirits. We smiled and continued down the valley.

At this point in our journey, we had seen more tarantulas than trekkers so we were a bit surprised when we encountered three people splayed out across the trail ahead. With smiles and a quick hello, we quickly realized that this older French couple and their daughter had seen more than their fair share of rain and were making their way down the valley as quickly as possible. While their spirits only seemed dampened, French momma in particular, it was downright done with their journey. We carried on and discussed that it was either mountain karma or some kind of dumb luck, but to this point our feet still remained dry and our spirits high. 

In the Santa Cruz valley, the landscape changes as quickly as the weather. Ascending a small bench, we were greeted by a brilliant, emerald green, alpine lake. We walked along up the wind-swept valley, through a mixture of sun and rain, as the gigantic mountains above played a game of hide and seek.

The lake soon gave way to another dry valley with litte vegetation. With plenty of warm rocks to sit on, we decided this was a good place for lunch and gazed up the valley, realizing the fork in the trail and the decision we would soon have to make. The side track would lead us up to the beautiful Alpamayo valley, with huge glaciated peaks and an alpine lake. Even though it meant carrying our packs up an additional 1,200 ft of zig zagging trail, we silently agreed that there's no better time than the present.

Seventeen switchbacks later, we found a spot to stash our packs under our tarp. Drawing us further into the mountains, the clouds lifted to reveal the grandeur of the peaks; and without the weight of our gear, it was almost as if we floated our way to a brilliant alpine lake wedged at the base of tremendous peaks. The large glaciers, almost close enough to touch, perfectly reflected the glowing orange of the late daylight. There were no words needed as we sat there, taking in our surroundings and realizing that we were in the heart of the Cordillera Blancas.

Any time you sit down to write about an experience in the mountains, you encounter that wonderful and beautiful irony. You attempt to put your words to the moment when you found yourself without a single thought. You try to describe a place and a time when you yourself didn't even recognize the existence of time and space. There truly is freedom in adventure and when you find that, there really is nothing to say. 

The glow of the glacier shifted from bronze to amber and onto a deeper purple so we decided it best to make our way back towards our bags. As we retreated down the valley, the rain came and went and when we reached our bags and shouldered our packs, we turned one last time and were granted with the clearest, most beautiful view of Alpamayo. The mountain gods smiling down on us and wishing us safe travels. 

By the time we got to camp it was dark. It was raining. It was windy. It was cold. Our nine hours on the trail had us worn out to say the least. With some team work, we pitched the tent and boiled some water, eating our dinner of Ramen and tea nestled inside the warmth of our sleeping bags.

Sufficiently Soaked: Chapter 2

In order to trek through some of the biggest mountains in the world, one must first hike into the mountains. After the first mile and 1,000 ft of elevation, we quickly realized this reality. Our destination for the first night was to be Llama Coral and according to Messi, our native Peruvian hostal owner, it should be "just a short three hour walk." His weathered skin and knowing smile suggested he had spent his lifetime amongst these monstrous peaks. We estimated that we had at least six hours of daylight left and decided it would be sufficient for us.
The trail climbed steeply up a narrow canyon with huge granite walls. The vastness and enormity attempted to overwhelm us although just as it did, we came across a Peruvain family bathing in the river and enjoying the Christmas holiday. Their warm smiles and well wishes set our minds at ease and temporarily allowed us to forget about the steep climb. We smiled as they took pictures with us and they giggled as they mentioned that we were the first people they had seen to hike up in this direction. We walked on in silence, settling in to our new routine. Afterall, this would be our reality for the next few days.
After we hiked for what we decided was enough time, we found some grassy corrals to call home for the night. The sun was shining, the crystal clear creek was flowing nearby and our only company was a few high-alpine cattle grazing on the abundant grasses. We laid in the sun for a bit and leisurely set up our tent. Afterall, it was Christmas so we decided on a feast fit for the occasion. We sat atop a mossy boulder eating our tuna-quinoa-curry creation and watched as the sun dipped down the valley. The days heat pushed its way up the mountains, causing the clouds to dance and twirl, eventually enveloping us and motivating us into our tent. Towards our warm sleeping bags and a peaceful night of sleep we went.

Sufficiently Soaked: Chapter 1

Like any good adventure, as you unpack your bag, not only does the warn equipment from the days pass splay out on the floor; so too do the memories.

Handing Brad a moist five-pound bag of uneaten food, I can't help but recall watching him at the market as he piled heaps into our basket saying, "Let's just bring it. We might need it."

But let's be honest, our adventure started well before that day in a market in Huaraz, Peru. In fact, it started in the comfy environs of Bozeman, Montana as I began to plan my adventure in South America. Brad was tossing around the idea of joining. "Sure," he said "I'll do the Santa Cruz Trek with you." A quick google search revealed some beautiful pictures and that's where we left it, trusting the rest would fall into place.

Come September, I packed my bags and left. From the rainforest in Ecuador to an island in Bolivia, I practiced my Spanish and adjusted to my new reality: a life of travel, adventure, and at times, just waiting. Those three months have been packed with stories that are bound to be told eventually but for the moment, let's get back to the trek.

Our plan had been to meet in Lima, the largest city in Peru. We walked by the ocean, visited some museums, ate ceviche and set our alarms for 4:00 the next morning to make our flight to Huaraz (though we probably should have set them for earlier).

Still half asleep and finally deciding to look at our tickets, we realized departure time was way earlier than we thought and ran into the airport with our heavy bags. We pulled the "gringo card" and raced to the front of the line, simultaneously realizing that we were in Peru and nothing happens too quickly here. 

As the first light of the day cast upon the city of Lima, we were ushered to our seats and settled in for the cloudy ride north. Once our small propeller plane began to drop below the clouds, we first laid our eyes on the legendary Cordillera Blanca. Not only the highest tropical mountain range in the world, but the largest concentration of peaks over 20,000 ft behind the Himalayas. We looked at each other, smiled, and agreed "Yup. Those are some big montañas."

Our plan was to spend the day in Huaraz, the jumping-off point for outdoor enthusiasts. We wanted to do some last minute shopping and preparations for our excursion. As we made our way through the city, there were festivities abound; after all, it was Christmas Eve. People danced in the street. It rained. We found the food and the fuel we needed. It rained. We sat down for coffee, double checking our gear. And still, if rained. 

The Peruvian Andes are marked by two very distinct seasons: the dry season and the wet season. Whether it was ease of coordinating schedules or personal preferences, this was the time we had chosen and the rainy season had just begun. 

Despite the fact that we had decided to go without a guide, we stopped in several adventure shops and agencies for some local beta. Each time we described our route from Cashapampa to Vaqueria, we received the same quizzical look, "why you do it like that?" With no real reason, we just shrugged, smiled, and carried on our way. 

Although we planned a restful night of sleep before embarking on our trek, Peruvian tradition proved otherwise. As the clock struck twelve and Christmas officially began, the locals put on a firework show that light up the whole sky. 

The next morning, as most people we know ran to find gifts beneath their Christmas tree, we hired a moto-taxi, went to the terminal and crammed ourselves and our oversized packs into a miniature bus filled with Peruvians who couldn't help but giggle and point at the sight of us. After two hours in the colectivo, we arrived at Caral. Transferring from a crowded colectivo to an even more intimate station wagon of seven people, including grandma crouched in the back, we climbed up a winding dirt road for an hour until we arrived at the town of Cashapampa. With a smile and a "Felíz Navidad!" we were at the trailhead and set loose into the Peruvian backcountry.

Sufficiently Soaked

A short story written by Brad Van Wert and I (mostly Brad :) about our recent adventure trekking through the Cordillera Blanca. I'll post it chapter by chapter throughout the week. Enjoy!!

5,000 Years Old

According to Wikipedia...

     "Caral was inhabited between roughly 2600 BCE and 2000 BCE, enclosing an area of more than 60 hectares. Caral was described by its excavators as the oldest urban center in the Americas. Accommodating more than 3,000 inhabitants, it is the best studied and one of the largest Norte Chico sites known."

Brad and I so happened to stumble upon this 5,000 year old site in the middle of the Peruvian dessert...

We went to the town of Huacho to spend New Years on the beach and enjoy the sun because we were chilled by the rain in the mountains during our Christmas trek (story soon to come). We spent the New Year's Eve eating fresh ceviche by the port, sitting on the shore while the waves crashed and watching the fireworks simultaneously explode as the clock struck midnight.  

The next day we hired a taxi to drive us out into the desert to this so-called Caral place and walked through the pyramids and ruins of a civilization that lived there almost 5,000 years prior. The history was incredible but even more intriguing was the location; in the middle of a hot, dry, sandy desert. We couldn't help but wonder the reason behind the location and how a society functioned in such harsh conditions. This was one of the first societies in America and its inhabitants established a societal structure and way of urban planning that was followed by many civilizations to come. By far the richest history either of us had ever experienced, we were shocked that this was the first time we had ever even heard of the site. Not only were the pyramids an impressive historical feat, but the entire society was operating around the same time as the pyramids of Egypt. It was absolutely fascinating, to say the least.

Familiar Faces in Foreign Places

Meeting Brad in Lima was such a wonderful feeling. To see a familiar face in a foreign country is a wonderful slice of home when traveling abroad.

We spend two days wondering around Lima and exploring the huge, chaotic, diverse, and bustling city. According to some critics, the food of Lima has "surpassed the cuisine of Paris." 

We had fun trying some different restaurants in the city and stumbled upon very delicious ceviche and gourmet creations. We walked to the beach and watched the surfers in the break. The smooth black stones rolled and made a wonderful sound every time the water crashed on the shore, stumbling and rolling when the water receded.

Exploring the urban area was neat but in the end we decided it was very similar to any other metropolis and we had had our fill. 

We were ready to surround ourselves in some of the world's largest and most beautiful mountains, the Andes.

Isla Del Sol

For a few days, I was lucky to have the opportunity to hike around and explore La Isla Del Sol- and island in Lake Titicaca with three small indigenous communities, jaw-dropping views, dozens of trails and remnants of Incan Ruins. To say the least, I had a wonderful time on the island. 

On the first day, we took the local ferry from Copacabana to the northern community. After meeting a big group of travelers, we found a hostel on the beach for about three dollars and went on a hike to the top of a volcano on the island. We sat on a beach and watched as the children played in the sand. They all had little sticks with plastic bottles tied to the ends and dragged them through the water like boats. Pigs and sheep roamed along the shore, nibbling on bits of grass and napping in the sunshine.

We came back and had a lovely night with new friends from all over the world. At first, it seemed as though there wasn't electricity but when we were at the store buying some things, the lights flickered on at about 8:00 and the old woman in the store looked up at us with a big smile on her face, "La luz!" she exclaimed and started chuckling to herself. We sat at the end of a dock in the moonlight, drinking  cheap Bolivian wine and watching the bright stars overhead. In the distance a storm was approaching and we "oohed" and "ahhed" as the lightening illuminated the dark clouds.

The next day we packed our bags and hiked the trail across the island. We followed an elderly sheep herder for part of the trail and made friends with a dog who lead us the entire 9km to the southern community of Yumani. Once there we found another small, family-run hostel and walked around the small town. While crossing over farms and walking up Incan terraces, we gathered an entire pack of dogs and we named each one individually.

For our third day on the island, we ventured off the main trail and went to find some hidden beaches. We got off the trail and found a beautiful rocky beach on the shore of Lake Titicaca. It was absolutely stunning and we decided it was necessary to swim in the lake's clear blue water. Across the beach we spotted a boat coming and watched as a family disembarked and began to collect driftwood. We approached them and asked if they might be going back to Yumani. After they realized we actually had no money to contribute, we decided to help them collect firewood and eventually began the slow journey back, trolling in the crystal-clear water near the rocky shore. 

That night we met some other traveler friends and hiked to the top of a hill for a delicious dinner and sunset. We sat, played cards and talked as we waited two hours for the woman who owned the restaurant to cook us the most delicious meal. 

Our final day we sadly said goodbye to the magical paradise and took the ferry back to mainland Bolivia in the rain.

Going to the island felt like going back in time. The electricity was sparse, there were no roads, no internet, no cars and a very simple and pure lifestyle. In contrast to the very invasive tourism of the Floating Islands, La Isla Del Sol felt genuine; We were simply observing the islander's way of life from a distance.