On the morning of Saturday, the 4th of December, we took a bus to Puno, on Lake Titicaca - the highest navigable lake in the world (about 3800 meters). Fiona, Sara and I hired a minivan just for ourselves and raced to the border. We got to the Bolivian border a bit before they closed and crossed over. A few minutes later we were in Copacabana, another lakeside town.
It being my birthday and all, we opted for the nice hotel. It was $22 per night, but worth it. We had a private bathroom with hot water and I even got to sleep up in a loft in a big bed.
On Sunday, we explored the town. The church was pretty nice, it had a bit of Moorish influence. They bless their cars with holy water by the church, but we missed that. By the time we got there, all we saw was a well decorated car already starting to dry.
In the afternoon we took a very slow boat out to Isla Del Sol, Island of the Sun. We had about an hour to look at a ruin and take a few photos.
Last Monday, we took the bus to the highest capital city in the world, La Paz, Bolivia. La Paz sits in a valley and has a few nice mountains on the horizon. One of them, Illampu, is very big and often visible in all of its glory from town. The city is surrounded by an incredible expanse of heavily eroded badlands, and I like badlands. I think La Paz is now my favorite Latin American capital city.
On Tuesday, Fiona and I went out to the nice suburb to shop in the Hipermercado - Hyper Market. In the afternoon I hung out with Shelly and Jodi, two other women from Melbourne, Australia. We went to the Coca Museum and I had a candy made from coca leaves. It made my tongue and cheeks go numb and my breathing increase. I also learned that Coca Cola imports several hundred tons of coca leaves each year for its soda. I think they are the only non-medical importer of coca leaves in the US.
We also went to the witch's market. When the locals build a house, they bury a llama fetus under it for good luck. The witch's market sells all different sizes of llama fetus, the biggest ones even have fur on them. They also sell pig fetus and various stuffed animals.
Fiona had been planning to join an organized tour for some time and on Wednesday morning she left for that. She is doing a Trek type tour for the next month and will end up in Tierra del Fuego, at the bottom of the continent.
I hopped on a local bus, for about 30 cents, and rode out of town to the end of the line, about an hour. My guidebook recommended a hike in the hills, but it took me a few hours to find the start of it. I never did their hike, but I enjoyed the one I did, and saw another promising hike across the valley. The only problem was a few dogs that were guarding a house I wanted to walk by. Luckily the old women and small children came out and kept the dogs under control until I passed.
On Thursday, I got organized for Friday. I organized a bike ride to Corioco and bought maps and food for a hike. That night I did not feel so well. My head hurt and I skipped dinner.
Friday morning, I was okay, but not quite up to a 50 mile bike ride. I postponed the ride and relaxed for the day. I felt fine after a while and did not skip any more meals.
Saturday I hung out, saw a movie and went on a small walk with a few people from the hotel.
Yesterday, after a late start, I took the bus back out to Apa and did the walk I saw last time I was there. I hiked up a canyon for about and hour and a half. At the top, I had planned to continue along and eventually find a snow covered mountain. Unfortunately, this was impossible. The top of the hill ended in an impassible expanse of badlands. The only way to go was back down. I walked down for an hour, stopped to watch a local soccer game in a village and then continued on back to La Paz.
Today I went to jail. A few of us walked over to the downtown jail. It was built a hundred years ago as a monastery for 800, but now it is a jail for 1400. There is an inmate there who has an American mother and has spent five years in a New York jail. For seven dollars he gives guided tours. It was not a visiting day, but one dollar for the guards got us in.
He showed us around and we learned a lot. When someone is sent to jail, it costs four dollars to get in. If they can not pay, they are locked in the kitchen for 30 days and must cook under slave like conditions. Then they are released into the jail proper. There are five sections in the jail and cost the inmates between five dollars and twenty dollars to enter. Once an inmate purchases the right to live in a certain section, he can then purchase a cell from the guards. Cells range in price from about $100 to over $5000.
The next order of business is to choose a business, one must eat after all. One guy runs a Nintendo shop. Other jobs include restaurant owner, carpenter, clothes washer, and shop owner. Our guide was also a drug dealer, telephone concession owner, liquor store owner and he had his hand in a few other things as well.
If a man can not continue to pay rent on his home while he is in jail, his family can join him. For this reason rapists are not very popular there and they must endure a rather painful sounding initiation. Many families live there and the women and children are free to come and go to school and work.
Except for the wall around the neighborhood, there was no real difference between jail and the rest of the city. They have plenty of private businesses and shops. Kids play in the street and drunk guys occasionally stagger by. The guards do not go in there and the inmates have a strict no violence rule between 6 a.m. and 5 p.m. Once the day prostitutes and visitors leave, our guide tells us, it can get fairly violent in there, but violence during the day could effect business.
Our guide needs $25,000 by February to buy a judge and get out. I wish him the best of luck.
I am trying to organize a few activities, but it is the rainy season and not many tours are running. Hopefully, I will do the bike ride and hike soon.
Monday, December 13, 1999
Friday, December 3, 1999
3 DEC 99
A little while after my last update, I went to the municipal sports stadium to watch a soccer game. Melgar, the home team, played the Sport Boys. Sport Boys was their real name, not a translation. It took about five minutes for the first Sport Boys player to be ejected from the game. For the next seventy minutes of play neither team did much and the crowed booed whenever Melgar slowed the game down. Eventually, the home team scored a few goals. About ten minutes before the end of the game the Sport Boys got upset with Melgar and the referees. Some sort of free for all broke out and about fifty police in full riot gear with vests, helmets, shields and guns raced out and surrounded the referees in a see of dark green. Half of the Sport Boys were ejected and the game was over.
These teams lived up to the reputation of South American soccer. Occasional bursts of brilliant play, but mostly a lot of cheap shots and fake injuries. I think the two guys who got the most exercise the whole night were the ones who ran out with the stretcher and carted people off.
On the 21st of November, Fiona and I hung out around the central plaza of Arrequipa. It was a Sunday and some military bands were strutting their stuff. In the afternoon we went to see the Peruvian movie - Panteleon y las Visadadores. It was in Spanish and we did not understand much, but Luis had previously explained the story to us and it was fairly easy to follow. It was an interesting movie about a very proper and upstanding soldier who is put in charge of setting up a prostitution service for the poor soldiers who are stationed in the jungle. I would like to see it again someday with English subtitles, or when I can understand it in Spanish.
That night we took the night train to Juliaca. We got on the train and found our seats. It did not seem to bad, but then the train started to move. My seat broke and I found myself reclining into the lap of the person behind me. He took it well and with a bit of rope I carry for emergencies such as this, we fixed my seat back. The seats were not bolted down very securely and they slammed from side to side all night. Also, the track was pretty bumpy and we were thrown forward with great frequency. The heat was turned way up, but I was able to cover the vent with my jacket. At 6:00 in the morning we arrived in Juliaca and had a three hours to hang out before our next train arrived.
At 9:00 we left Juliaca and headed for Cuzco. This train did not feel as if it bounced as much, but it did. Eventually, the cars were bouncing so much that they separated. Our car broke off from those in front of us. We stopped and watched the first class continue onwards. Perhaps because we had the kitchen in our car, they came back for us and a whole team of mechanics appeared and re-attached the trains. The cars only came apart once or twice more and we arrived in Cuzco in the early evening. We were ready for a bed and headed straight for a hotel.
We spent the next two days poking around Cuzco and getting ready for our next trek. We have a great view over the central plaza (plaza de armas) from our hotel and Cuzco is a beautiful city. It is the kind of place that weary backpackers find and stay for weeks or months to relax. Our hotel is near the top of a street that is called Resbalosa, which means slippery and it really is, after a rain. Also, since we are at over 10,000 feet, by the time we make it up to our hotel, we have to stop to catch our breath.
On Thursday, we went to the train station at six in the morning and caught a train for the mountains. We were planning on getting off the train at Kilometer 88, but the train did not stop. We finally got them to stop a little after Kilometer 89 and we hopped off. We walked back to Kilometer 88. Fiona큦 foot was still a bit suspect so we found her a porter. We walked until mid-afternoon and found a camp site. The porter went home and returned the next morning at six. Fiona had the runs, but other than that we had a good night of camping.
After a reasonably early start, we headed up to the highest point on the trail. Around noon we came to the 4200 meter high pass. After a brief rest, we headed down into the next valley for lunch. After another high pass, we descended to our next camp site. Our porter was not registered, so he returned home. The next morning, we found another porter for Fiona and walked over the final high mountain pass of the Inca Trail.
In the early afternoon we arrived at Winy Winay and set up camp in a beautiful spot. I went to check out the ruins. The Incas sure knew how to build ruins. I spent a while poking around and then went back to camp. I watched a few satellites pass overhead as I brushed my teeth. We went to bed early because our alarms were set for four o'clock the next day.
Last Sunday, after an early start, we finished off the 40 something kilometer walk. We climbed up to the Sun Gate and got our first view of the end of the trail, our goal, the Inca ruins of Machu Pichu. We stared for about fifteen minutes and then pulled out our cameras. At this point a cloud covered the ruins, so we put our cameras away and continued walking. We arrived at Machu Pichu at around eight in the morning and set off to explore. I climbed up Winy Pichu to get a better view of the place. It was a very tough climb and not many people feel like doing it after a four day walk. There was a great view from the top and I took a picture.
The big groups of tourists start arriving around eleven. Machu Pichu got very crowded. We were glad we got our pictures before the crowds got there. After lunch, we took the thirty minute bus ride down the side of the mountain to the small town of Aguas Calientes. The road has many hairpin turns, but there is a path that runs straight down the mountain. A local kid ran down the path and shouted to us at every turn. At the bottom he hopped on the bus and I gave him sixty cents. He was not out of breath and had barely broken a sweat, but I liked his approach to begging much better than the kids who just sit there on the street and don't even move.
All of the nine dollar train tickets to Cuzco were sold out. We did not want to spend the nearly thirty dollars for the luxury tourist train so we went to the local train station. It was a holiday and all of the five dollar seats were sold out. We were told we could just hop on the train and stand. We had a few hours to wait, so I grabbed a menu from a local tout and convinced a few tourists to go eat in the restaurant that I was now representing.
Eventually, the train came and about 27 billion people tried to cram on. Fiona squeezed onto the first car, but the crowd expanded and she was expelled. We found another car, further back, and got on. The conductors were very efficient at finding every body and his large package a place to stand on the train. After thirty minutes, we were packed in like sardines and the train started moving. It was very crowded and hot and tempers started to flair. The men near me took turns punching some poor guy who would not defend himself. Luckily I was far enough away not to get sprayed with blood. I have never seen such a vicious group of grandpas before. Eventually, the punchee got off and staggered off into the wilds of Peru.
At Ollaytatambo, all the tour groups got off. They take buses back to Cuzco because it is quicker. Finally, after three hours, we had a bit of space in the train. I spoke with some school children, and after a five or so hour ride, we made it back to Cuzco. It was late and after dinner we went to bed.
Monday morning we showed up at the Excel Language school to start classes. We took five days of classes from nine in the morning until one in the afternoon every day. I was the only one to sign up for the Elementary level class and learned a lot from my teacher. She loves to talk and even if I spoke perfect Spanish, I do not think I would have been able to say much in our conversations. We did a lot of exercises from a work book and never spoke in English. By the end of the week I was understanding her pretty well. Besides covering a bit of grammar, she lectured me on religion, politics, local food, abortion, pet ownership, monetary policy, the Japanese Embassy hostage crisis, her efforts to buy a piano and many other things.
Yesterday, we went on a school field trip to some Huari ruins, which pre-date the Incas by 1000 years. It was nice to go on a school outing without having to forge my mother's signature on a permission slip.
Today was the last day of class and tomorrow we head for Copacabana, on Lake Titicaca in Bolivia.
At the school, they tell me that with six weeks of one-on-one lessons and living with a local family, I would be fluent in Spanish. It is tempting and I may return someday to do just that.
These teams lived up to the reputation of South American soccer. Occasional bursts of brilliant play, but mostly a lot of cheap shots and fake injuries. I think the two guys who got the most exercise the whole night were the ones who ran out with the stretcher and carted people off.
On the 21st of November, Fiona and I hung out around the central plaza of Arrequipa. It was a Sunday and some military bands were strutting their stuff. In the afternoon we went to see the Peruvian movie - Panteleon y las Visadadores. It was in Spanish and we did not understand much, but Luis had previously explained the story to us and it was fairly easy to follow. It was an interesting movie about a very proper and upstanding soldier who is put in charge of setting up a prostitution service for the poor soldiers who are stationed in the jungle. I would like to see it again someday with English subtitles, or when I can understand it in Spanish.
That night we took the night train to Juliaca. We got on the train and found our seats. It did not seem to bad, but then the train started to move. My seat broke and I found myself reclining into the lap of the person behind me. He took it well and with a bit of rope I carry for emergencies such as this, we fixed my seat back. The seats were not bolted down very securely and they slammed from side to side all night. Also, the track was pretty bumpy and we were thrown forward with great frequency. The heat was turned way up, but I was able to cover the vent with my jacket. At 6:00 in the morning we arrived in Juliaca and had a three hours to hang out before our next train arrived.
At 9:00 we left Juliaca and headed for Cuzco. This train did not feel as if it bounced as much, but it did. Eventually, the cars were bouncing so much that they separated. Our car broke off from those in front of us. We stopped and watched the first class continue onwards. Perhaps because we had the kitchen in our car, they came back for us and a whole team of mechanics appeared and re-attached the trains. The cars only came apart once or twice more and we arrived in Cuzco in the early evening. We were ready for a bed and headed straight for a hotel.
We spent the next two days poking around Cuzco and getting ready for our next trek. We have a great view over the central plaza (plaza de armas) from our hotel and Cuzco is a beautiful city. It is the kind of place that weary backpackers find and stay for weeks or months to relax. Our hotel is near the top of a street that is called Resbalosa, which means slippery and it really is, after a rain. Also, since we are at over 10,000 feet, by the time we make it up to our hotel, we have to stop to catch our breath.
On Thursday, we went to the train station at six in the morning and caught a train for the mountains. We were planning on getting off the train at Kilometer 88, but the train did not stop. We finally got them to stop a little after Kilometer 89 and we hopped off. We walked back to Kilometer 88. Fiona큦 foot was still a bit suspect so we found her a porter. We walked until mid-afternoon and found a camp site. The porter went home and returned the next morning at six. Fiona had the runs, but other than that we had a good night of camping.
After a reasonably early start, we headed up to the highest point on the trail. Around noon we came to the 4200 meter high pass. After a brief rest, we headed down into the next valley for lunch. After another high pass, we descended to our next camp site. Our porter was not registered, so he returned home. The next morning, we found another porter for Fiona and walked over the final high mountain pass of the Inca Trail.
In the early afternoon we arrived at Winy Winay and set up camp in a beautiful spot. I went to check out the ruins. The Incas sure knew how to build ruins. I spent a while poking around and then went back to camp. I watched a few satellites pass overhead as I brushed my teeth. We went to bed early because our alarms were set for four o'clock the next day.
Last Sunday, after an early start, we finished off the 40 something kilometer walk. We climbed up to the Sun Gate and got our first view of the end of the trail, our goal, the Inca ruins of Machu Pichu. We stared for about fifteen minutes and then pulled out our cameras. At this point a cloud covered the ruins, so we put our cameras away and continued walking. We arrived at Machu Pichu at around eight in the morning and set off to explore. I climbed up Winy Pichu to get a better view of the place. It was a very tough climb and not many people feel like doing it after a four day walk. There was a great view from the top and I took a picture.
The big groups of tourists start arriving around eleven. Machu Pichu got very crowded. We were glad we got our pictures before the crowds got there. After lunch, we took the thirty minute bus ride down the side of the mountain to the small town of Aguas Calientes. The road has many hairpin turns, but there is a path that runs straight down the mountain. A local kid ran down the path and shouted to us at every turn. At the bottom he hopped on the bus and I gave him sixty cents. He was not out of breath and had barely broken a sweat, but I liked his approach to begging much better than the kids who just sit there on the street and don't even move.
All of the nine dollar train tickets to Cuzco were sold out. We did not want to spend the nearly thirty dollars for the luxury tourist train so we went to the local train station. It was a holiday and all of the five dollar seats were sold out. We were told we could just hop on the train and stand. We had a few hours to wait, so I grabbed a menu from a local tout and convinced a few tourists to go eat in the restaurant that I was now representing.
Eventually, the train came and about 27 billion people tried to cram on. Fiona squeezed onto the first car, but the crowd expanded and she was expelled. We found another car, further back, and got on. The conductors were very efficient at finding every body and his large package a place to stand on the train. After thirty minutes, we were packed in like sardines and the train started moving. It was very crowded and hot and tempers started to flair. The men near me took turns punching some poor guy who would not defend himself. Luckily I was far enough away not to get sprayed with blood. I have never seen such a vicious group of grandpas before. Eventually, the punchee got off and staggered off into the wilds of Peru.
At Ollaytatambo, all the tour groups got off. They take buses back to Cuzco because it is quicker. Finally, after three hours, we had a bit of space in the train. I spoke with some school children, and after a five or so hour ride, we made it back to Cuzco. It was late and after dinner we went to bed.
Monday morning we showed up at the Excel Language school to start classes. We took five days of classes from nine in the morning until one in the afternoon every day. I was the only one to sign up for the Elementary level class and learned a lot from my teacher. She loves to talk and even if I spoke perfect Spanish, I do not think I would have been able to say much in our conversations. We did a lot of exercises from a work book and never spoke in English. By the end of the week I was understanding her pretty well. Besides covering a bit of grammar, she lectured me on religion, politics, local food, abortion, pet ownership, monetary policy, the Japanese Embassy hostage crisis, her efforts to buy a piano and many other things.
Yesterday, we went on a school field trip to some Huari ruins, which pre-date the Incas by 1000 years. It was nice to go on a school outing without having to forge my mother's signature on a permission slip.
Today was the last day of class and tomorrow we head for Copacabana, on Lake Titicaca in Bolivia.
At the school, they tell me that with six weeks of one-on-one lessons and living with a local family, I would be fluent in Spanish. It is tempting and I may return someday to do just that.
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