tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70777566130190073512024-03-13T04:09:59.564-04:00A Year of SummerStories from my year traveling around the worldJenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03761254329951728715noreply@blogger.comBlogger64125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7077756613019007351.post-54627067171264446772011-08-07T17:59:00.000-04:002011-08-07T17:59:15.343-04:00Chasing Cars: Wk. 1- The Rainy Days<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div closure_uid_v3uuyy="190" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div closure_uid_b3afp7="213"><div closure_uid_q0min6="632">After a 13-month global adventure I can't very well stay put on familiar ground. I'm heading west!</div><div closure_uid_q0min6="632"><br />
</div><div closure_uid_q0min6="632">Not only did I want to keep the adventure going, I also needed to see my home country.</div></div></div><div closure_uid_q0min6="634" closure_uid_v3uuyy="190"><br />
</div><div closure_uid_v3uuyy="190" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div closure_uid_q0min6="633">A tour guide in Chile didn't think I would be impressed by the Valley of the Moon if I'd been to the Grand Canyon. Luckily at that time I hadn't, nor had I really seen any National Park, but that was going to change!</div></div><div closure_uid_v3uuyy="190" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div closure_uid_v3uuyy="190" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"></div><div closure_uid_v3uuyy="190" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div closure_uid_b3afp7="151"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-roayPFgk2bQ/Tewv4s-Ag3I/AAAAAAAADh8/XbIAC2RgryE/s1600/DSC07474.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-roayPFgk2bQ/Tewv4s-Ag3I/AAAAAAAADh8/XbIAC2RgryE/s320/DSC07474.JPG" t$="true" width="320" /></a></div><div closure_uid_q0min6="445"><div closure_uid_q0min6="635">Why not drive across the country? </div><div closure_uid_q0min6="635"><br />
</div><div closure_uid_q0min6="635">Plus, Eddie (now Edmund) Gibson, who I swam with in High School, shared the driving (okay, maybe it wasn't exactly an even split as I was designated navigator and tour guide) and singing (Snow Patrol's "Chasing Cars" became the trip song).</div><div closure_uid_q0min6="635"><br />
</div><div closure_uid_q0min6="635"><u closure_uid_q0min6="718">Day 1</u></div></div></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div closure_uid_v3uuyy="173" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Philadelphia to Cleveland</div><div closure_uid_v3uuyy="173"><div closure_uid_q0min6="303"><em>458 Miles</em></div></div><div closure_uid_v3uuyy="173"><br />
</div><div closure_uid_v3uuyy="173"><div closure_uid_q0min6="304"><div closure_uid_q0min6="637">There really wasn't much excitement on Day 1, just a lot of construction in Pennsylvania that prevented us from visiting the Football Hall of Fame in Canton, OH. Maybe next time I'll get there, but given this was the first time it might be a while.</div></div></div><div closure_uid_v3uuyy="173"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nAFcULvWm48/TewmpzTZ1_I/AAAAAAAADWo/Uhm1ckZUQU4/s1600/DSC07207.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nAFcULvWm48/TewmpzTZ1_I/AAAAAAAADWo/Uhm1ckZUQU4/s320/DSC07207.JPG" t$="true" width="320" /></a></div><div closure_uid_v3uuyy="173" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div closure_uid_b3afp7="156"><div closure_uid_q0min6="638">We arrived in Cleveland at the end of the work day, but you really wouldn't know it based on the action downtown- it was a ghost town! (I blame LeBron!) There were entire buildings empty and almost no cars or people on the streets. At least they have an Oldenburg statue.</div></div></div><div closure_uid_v3uuyy="173" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div closure_uid_v3uuyy="173" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div closure_uid_b3afp7="158"><div closure_uid_q0min6="639">Luckily Hotwire hooked us up at the historic Hyatt Regency housed in The Arcade, one of the first indoor shopping centers in America (May 1890). It was also near East 4th Street, home of Cleveland's top restaurants. We randomly picked <a href="http://thegreenhousetavern.com/">The Greenhouse Tavern</a> and I was delighted to discover they have a <em closure_uid_q0min6="640">Food & Wine</em> Best New Chef. Yummy!</div></div></div><div closure_uid_v3uuyy="173" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div closure_uid_v3uuyy="174"><div closure_uid_q0min6="305"><div closure_uid_q0min6="939"><u>Day 2</u></div></div></div><div closure_uid_v3uuyy="174">Cleveland to Chicago</div><div closure_uid_v3uuyy="174"><div closure_uid_q0min6="306"><em closure_uid_q0min6="309">349+ Miles</em></div></div><div closure_uid_v3uuyy="174"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OFuZDqvgLlk/TewmvBGQ8zI/AAAAAAAADW0/fMVezElk1Ps/s1600/DSC07213.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: left; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OFuZDqvgLlk/TewmvBGQ8zI/AAAAAAAADW0/fMVezElk1Ps/s320/DSC07213.JPG" t$="true" width="320" /></a></div><div closure_uid_v3uuyy="174"><div closure_uid_b3afp7="157"><div closure_uid_q0min6="641">Before heading to Chicago we walked to the 50,000 square foot Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in the blustery, freezing cold. OMG, it was SO cold! What happened to my year of summer?</div></div></div><div closure_uid_v3uuyy="174"><br />
</div><div closure_uid_v3uuyy="174"><div closure_uid_q0min6="642">The Hall of Fame was pretty cool, especially Wacko Jacko's "Thriller" jacket and Beatles stuff. There were lots of guitars and memorabilia which is probably awesome if you are a big music fan, but I still enjoyed it.</div></div><div closure_uid_v3uuyy="174"><br />
</div><div closure_uid_v3uuyy="174"><div closure_uid_b3afp7="165"><div closure_uid_q0min6="643">Unfortunately I got off the highway a bit early in Chicago and was frustrated, but proud to report that I found a fairly direct route to the Hotel Indigo (thanks Chicago skyline, even if that John Hancock building looks a lot like the Sears Tower from afar).</div></div></div><div closure_uid_v3uuyy="174"><br />
</div><div closure_uid_v3uuyy="174"><div closure_uid_b3afp7="167"><div closure_uid_q0min6="644">Liz and Leroy treated us to lost of laughs and super scrumptious, authentic Mexican at The Donkey. Always love seeing those guys since good times are guaranteed!</div></div></div><div closure_uid_q0min6="645" closure_uid_v3uuyy="174"><br />
</div><div closure_uid_v3uuyy="174"><div closure_uid_q0min6="311"><u>Day 3</u></div></div><div closure_uid_v3uuyy="174">Chicago to Minneapolis</div><div closure_uid_v3uuyy="174"><div closure_uid_q0min6="310"><em>424 Miles</em></div></div><div closure_uid_v3uuyy="174"><br />
</div><div closure_uid_v3uuyy="174"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KNuECLc0a8g/TewmzyfvuwI/AAAAAAAADW8/Su5VFN2S0N4/s1600/DSC07215.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KNuECLc0a8g/TewmzyfvuwI/AAAAAAAADW8/Su5VFN2S0N4/s320/DSC07215.JPG" t$="true" width="320" /></a></div><div closure_uid_q0min6="480"><div closure_uid_q0min6="646">Battling traffic leaving Chicago, we finally made it to Madison, Wisconsin for an abridged Farmer's Market (nothing like the real one around the State House) and some true Wisconsin grub at State Street Brats and The Chocolate Shoppe. Plus, we said hi for Greg!</div></div></div><div closure_uid_q0min6="527" closure_uid_v3uuyy="174"><br />
</div><div closure_uid_v3uuyy="174"><div closure_uid_q0min6="647">Meandering out of Madison, it was off to Apple Valley, Minnesota to visit the lovely Linda who I met while trekking to Everest Base Camp. No surprise, Linda is the most fantastic, generous hostess, totally spoiling us with home cooked meals and delightful company. I'm so grateful to have made such great new friends.</div></div><br />
<div closure_uid_v3uuyy="174"><div closure_uid_q0min6="314"><u>Day 4</u></div></div><div closure_uid_v3uuyy="174">Minneapolis to Rapid City, South Dakota</div><div closure_uid_v3uuyy="174"><div closure_uid_q0min6="313"><em>647.2 Miles</em></div></div><div closure_uid_v3uuyy="174"><br />
</div><div closure_uid_v3uuyy="174"><div closure_uid_q0min6="648">The killer day of driving-- not only was it long, it was boring, flat farmlands. I believe this was the day of my laughing fit while driving (not so safe!) over the comment "every one's an asshole now that you're driving!" ;-)</div></div><div closure_uid_v3uuyy="174"><br />
</div><div closure_uid_v3uuyy="174"><div closure_uid_b3afp7="166"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-f5iDoT80_lY/TewnQIFwLdI/AAAAAAAADXo/_xFZsmuJVy8/s1600/DSC07241.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-f5iDoT80_lY/TewnQIFwLdI/AAAAAAAADXo/_xFZsmuJVy8/s320/DSC07241.JPG" t$="true" width="320" /></a></div><div closure_uid_q0min6="374" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div closure_uid_q0min6="649">In 319 Miles we arrived in Mitchell, South Dakota, home of the famous 1892 Corn Palace, a Byzantine building designed with murals made from 275,000 ears of corn that change each summer. After a <em>healthy</em> Butter Burger it was time to take in the majesty of corn art. Truly bazaar, but pretty impressive that murals can be made from different shades of corn. </div></div></div></div><div closure_uid_q0min6="650" closure_uid_v3uuyy="174"><br />
</div><div closure_uid_v3uuyy="174"><div closure_uid_b3afp7="169"><div closure_uid_q0min6="652">This also marked the day we officially crossed into the western half of the country, over the mighty Missouri River which was not flooding at the time.</div></div></div><div closure_uid_q0min6="696" closure_uid_v3uuyy="174"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-M-ouiW3at-E/Tewrs6L3eTI/AAAAAAAADY8/J7Cb5dtXh7o/s1600/DSC07253.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: left; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-M-ouiW3at-E/Tewrs6L3eTI/AAAAAAAADY8/J7Cb5dtXh7o/s320/DSC07253.JPG" t$="true" width="320" /></a></div><div closure_uid_v3uuyy="174"><div closure_uid_b3afp7="170"><div closure_uid_q0min6="653">We needed something redeeming, so drove the north loop of the Badlands in the rain. Perhaps the strange rock formations looked more mysterious in the rain and fog, after all they have been described as "Hell with the fires burned out".</div></div><div closure_uid_b3afp7="170"><br />
</div><div closure_uid_b3afp7="170"><div closure_uid_q0min6="654">The landscape is quite unusual, almost creepy, carved from water and wind over the last half million years. Dinosaurs once roamed this land as evidenced by the fossils found by the hundreds.</div></div><div closure_uid_b3afp7="170"><br />
</div><div closure_uid_b3afp7="170" closure_uid_q0min6="293"><div closure_uid_q0min6="292"><div closure_uid_q0min6="655">In addition to the pinnacles, turrets, ridges and other strange rock formations, we caught our first glimpse of buffalo (Harry was right- awesome the first time, less so a few days later.)</div></div><div closure_uid_q0min6="292"><br />
</div></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-35UH7CVesj4/TewseIfLW0I/AAAAAAAADao/0dRZ1Nf224o/s1600/DSC07282.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-35UH7CVesj4/TewseIfLW0I/AAAAAAAADao/0dRZ1Nf224o/s320/DSC07282.JPG" t$="true" width="320" /></a></div><div closure_uid_v3uuyy="388"><div closure_uid_b3afp7="194"><div closure_uid_q0min6="656">Of course, in addition to other odd roadside oddities like the skeleton man walking the skeleton dinosaur, we saw the 62 Wall Drug billboards along I-90. Seems wrong not to stop at the 1931 shop. Yay Swimming!</div></div></div><div closure_uid_v3uuyy="388"><br />
</div><div closure_uid_b3afp7="196" closure_uid_v3uuyy="388"><div closure_uid_b3afp7="195"><div closure_uid_q0min6="253"><div closure_uid_q0min6="657">Chilled and damp all day, it was nice to get a tasty, hearty Italian meal at Botticelli Ristorante on Rapid City's Main Street. I am not saying I would want to live in Rapid City, but it was kinda cute for a quick pit stop.</div></div><div closure_uid_q0min6="253"><br />
</div></div></div><div closure_uid_v3uuyy="174"><div closure_uid_q0min6="317"><u>Day 5</u></div></div>Rapid City to Hulett, Wyoming<br />
<div closure_uid_q0min6="315"><em closure_uid_q0min6="316">180.4 Miles</em></div><div closure_uid_q0min6="659" closure_uid_v3uuyy="785"><div closure_uid_b3afp7="222"><br />
</div><div closure_uid_b3afp7="222"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-h9BfW7zseo4/TewsjMXMxkI/AAAAAAAADbE/I6XnB4wttY4/s1600/DSC07287.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: left; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-h9BfW7zseo4/TewsjMXMxkI/AAAAAAAADbE/I6XnB4wttY4/s320/DSC07287.JPG" t$="true" width="240" /></a></div><div closure_uid_q0min6="658">Delighted by the make-your-own waffles at the Rapid City Ho Jo's, this day was off to a great start with maybe some decent weather for The Black Hills.</div></div><div closure_uid_b3afp7="222"><br />
</div><div closure_uid_b3afp7="222"><div closure_uid_q0min6="238" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div closure_uid_q0min6="660">First stop was the still unfinished Mt. Rushmore, a site Harry felt strongly was totally skipable. I have to say, you <em>can</em> see what you want from the road (where clearly we stopped). This monument in the middle of sacred Sioux land is also pretty offensive, so we opted to not pay the admission fee.</div></div></div><div closure_uid_b3afp7="222"><br />
</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zgScMaRTrRc/Tewsw4Phr2I/AAAAAAAADbg/-yadb32mpzA/s1600/DSC07297.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zgScMaRTrRc/Tewsw4Phr2I/AAAAAAAADbg/-yadb32mpzA/s320/DSC07297.JPG" t$="true" width="320" /></a></div><div closure_uid_v3uuyy="174"><div closure_uid_b3afp7="223"><div closure_uid_q0min6="661">Despite the 1868 treaty between the Sioux and U.S. government granting the Sioux eternal rights to this sacred land, gold was confirmed in The Black Hills in 1874 by an expedition led by General Custer. As you know, this led to an appalling period in our nation's history. </div></div><div closure_uid_b3afp7="223"><br />
</div><div closure_uid_b3afp7="223">It is beautiful country!</div><div closure_uid_b3afp7="223"><br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6uuvuy4B_XY/TewsxkMvX9I/AAAAAAAADbk/BYdslnebGUI/s1600/DSC07302.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6uuvuy4B_XY/TewsxkMvX9I/AAAAAAAADbk/BYdslnebGUI/s320/DSC07302.JPG" t$="true" width="320" /></a></div></div><div closure_uid_v3uuyy="174"><div closure_uid_b3afp7="240"><div closure_uid_q0min6="274"><div closure_uid_q0min6="662">We did support the Crazy Horse Memorial, a work in progress started by Korczak Ziolkowski. His family is still working to complete this project, which is MUCH more ambitious than Mt. Rushmore (10 times the size), based solely on donations. This is the progress that has been made <strong>since 1949</strong>-- obviously there is a ways to go and won't be finished for decades.</div></div><div closure_uid_q0min6="274"><br />
</div></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div closure_uid_v3uuyy="174"><div closure_uid_b3afp7="241"><div closure_uid_q0min6="663">We drove through the Wild West (touristy/gambling) town of Deadwood on our way to Sturgis, host of the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally which draws 500,000 Harley-Davidson enthusiasts in August. THANK GOD we missed that fiasco and got to experience the tranquility of Bear Butte State Park.</div></div><div closure_uid_b3afp7="241"><br />
</div><div closure_uid_b3afp7="241"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HdOewNsViys/TewtCti309I/AAAAAAAADcI/wDxlCkLToh0/s1600/DSC07313.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: left; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HdOewNsViys/TewtCti309I/AAAAAAAADcI/wDxlCkLToh0/s320/DSC07313.JPG" t$="true" width="240" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div closure_uid_q0min6="680">Bear Butte is sacred to many American Indian tribes who come here to hold religious ceremonies leaving behind colorful material and small bundles of tobacco hanging from the trees. The Summit Trail hike was very enjoyable--- it was so nice to have good weather and an opportunity to stretch my legs after days cooped up in the car.</div></div></div><div closure_uid_b3afp7="241"><br />
</div><div closure_uid_b3afp7="241"><div closure_uid_q0min6="681">We literally had the place to ourselves (minus the super cute marmots) and the park rangers could not have been nicer giving us advice about where to go next on our route west.</div><div closure_uid_q0min6="681"> </div></div></div><div closure_uid_v3uuyy="174"><div closure_uid_b3afp7="243"><div closure_uid_q0min6="682">It was still early, so we drove into Wyoming for the night. It is amazing how you cross state lines and can see a difference- Wyoming is really, really pretty!</div></div></div><div closure_uid_b3afp7="242" closure_uid_v3uuyy="174"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ki8u4n9e668/TewtmjF0i0I/AAAAAAAADdQ/zBIWuaQs1NM/s1600/DSC07346.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ki8u4n9e668/TewtmjF0i0I/AAAAAAAADdQ/zBIWuaQs1NM/s320/DSC07346.JPG" t$="true" width="320" /></a></div><div closure_uid_v3uuyy="174" style="text-align: left;"><div closure_uid_b3afp7="244"><div closure_uid_q0min6="204"><div closure_uid_q0min6="683">Passing a town with a population of <strong>50</strong>, we settled in the slightly larger town of Hulett, pop. 419 (yes, these people also have 2 Senators--- how is that equal representation?). It was actually pretty quaint, in a generic old west way- no Chase or Citibank, just "Bank".</div></div></div></div><div closure_uid_v3uuyy="174"><br />
<div closure_uid_q0min6="319"><u>Day 6</u></div></div><div closure_uid_v3uuyy="174">Hulett to Cody, Wyoming</div><div closure_uid_q0min6="294" closure_uid_v3uuyy="174"><div closure_uid_q0min6="275"><em>416.6 Miles</em></div><div closure_uid_q0min6="275"><br />
</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-p0OJg4q_eBI/TewtniTI-mI/AAAAAAAADdU/Li6zTumMXMg/s1600/DSC07351.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: left; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-p0OJg4q_eBI/TewtniTI-mI/AAAAAAAADdU/Li6zTumMXMg/s320/DSC07351.JPG" t$="true" width="240" /></a></div><div closure_uid_v3uuyy="174"><div closure_uid_b3afp7="249"><div closure_uid_q0min6="684">Hulett's selling point was it's proximity to Devils Tower National Park (from <em>Close Encounters of the Third Kind</em> fame), a stop added after talking to a Park Ranger at the Badlands.</div></div><div closure_uid_b3afp7="249"><br />
</div><div closure_uid_b3afp7="249"><div closure_uid_q0min6="685">It is really odd and cool--- this rock formation, the tallest of its kind in the U.S., juts up in the middle of the plains, visible from 100 miles away. </div></div><div closure_uid_b3afp7="249"><br />
</div><div closure_uid_b3afp7="249"><div closure_uid_q0min6="686">The plan was to hike around the base, but the rain was unfortunately back :-(</div></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div closure_uid_q0min6="689" closure_uid_v3uuyy="174"><div closure_uid_b3afp7="251"><div closure_uid_q0min6="687">Thankfully we didn't spend our time hiking since we had a 91 mile diversion through Montana ahead of us.</div></div><div closure_uid_b3afp7="251"><br />
</div><div closure_uid_b3afp7="251"><div closure_uid_q0min6="688">We stopped for a break in the authentic cowboy town of Sheridan, Wyoming, passing one of the best preserved Main Streets and the Inn from 1893, formerly owned by Wild West showman Buffalo Bill Cody and once considered the finest hotel between Chicago and San Francisco. </div></div><div closure_uid_b3afp7="251"><br />
</div><div closure_uid_b3afp7="251"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rMVQ02thbGQ/Tewt1li2rlI/AAAAAAAADdw/8wN_I-RGd1I/s1600/DSC07365.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rMVQ02thbGQ/Tewt1li2rlI/AAAAAAAADdw/8wN_I-RGd1I/s320/DSC07365.JPG" t$="true" width="320" /></a></div><div closure_uid_q0min6="940" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div closure_uid_q0min6="599">While grabbing lunch at <a href="http://www.sackettsmarket.com/home.html">Sackett's Market</a> the lovely owners cautioned us not to attempt Rt. 14 due to the snow pack and storm that was dumping more snow. Again, what happened to my year of summer??? We doubted our Mazda was up to the challenge so sadly looped around through the Crow Indian Reservation and Billings, Montana to Cody, Wyoming. It was a pretty drive, but I was trilled to get to our log cabin at Cody Cowboy Village (it was as cute as it sounds).</div><div closure_uid_q0min6="599"><br />
</div><div closure_uid_q0min6="599">I'd heard rave reviews of Cody, the "Rodeo Capital of the World," but sadly we were too early in the season for the Nite Rodeo and faux gunfight at the Irma Hotel and too late in the day to visit the Buffalo Bill Museum. I am so going back, I have to see these things!</div></div></div><div closure_uid_b3afp7="251"><div closure_uid_q0min6="690"><br />
</div><div closure_uid_q0min6="690">Good so far and the really cool stuff is still to come!</div></div></div></div>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03761254329951728715noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7077756613019007351.post-56356003682473444372011-07-14T02:23:00.002-04:002011-07-14T02:39:15.525-04:00Lessons Learned<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRvIEeKRsNRr0f6semEeFqXBuSqqerRXk78HfLQUCSWbGQzXv8QOx9PFnMod4uCjajWpYy4JM7MNzHKnsDwhqBNxlWtps8c34yUz3oRRUnFjich-wbZSWv6t9dfVef8llISc_XMDpoZ4o/s1600/DSC07148.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRvIEeKRsNRr0f6semEeFqXBuSqqerRXk78HfLQUCSWbGQzXv8QOx9PFnMod4uCjajWpYy4JM7MNzHKnsDwhqBNxlWtps8c34yUz3oRRUnFjich-wbZSWv6t9dfVef8llISc_XMDpoZ4o/s320/DSC07148.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>Travel is amazing-- meeting new people and seeing different places <em>every</em> day for over a year becomes addictive. I was afraid if I didn't come back soon it would become increasingly difficult, so even though I was less than thrilled to end the journey I booked my flight back to 'the real world'.<br />
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Coming home wasn't easy, especially when you are delayed in Houston, Texas of all places! I've been gone for 13-months, in 35 different countries, and Homeland Security doesn't even bat an eye- humm, go figure. Yes, my time in those sanctioned countries was lovely! ;-)<br />
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Of course my family and friends were happy to welcome me home.<br />
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First stop- Philadelphia <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAVGoAGz1zBo30tVzhHBT0mAONNNHuh7IXp8xlKtSgjyOBsb4LJycPT5qmV2OtIzVKeArPlxv_7STV0vJ-50bC98rw610OCFxxmvt59kbKtnTNz5vW9Ty3infEohpVN5pkaX67_CkR5Hg/s1600/DSC07156.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAVGoAGz1zBo30tVzhHBT0mAONNNHuh7IXp8xlKtSgjyOBsb4LJycPT5qmV2OtIzVKeArPlxv_7STV0vJ-50bC98rw610OCFxxmvt59kbKtnTNz5vW9Ty3infEohpVN5pkaX67_CkR5Hg/s320/DSC07156.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I arrived Easter weekend since the entire Porter fam would be together, Greg up from DC and Laura down from New York. It was great to see everyone after so long (except Harry who I'd just seen- see Chile)-- those babies got SO big.<br />
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Cora Porter even bowls now. Wow, bowling with a 4-year old is not the speediest process. This may have been the first time I've seen a ball stop halfway and roll backwards. We were all pretty terrible, with Cora almost beating us, but thankfully those bumpers helped, as did Cora's super light ball. </div><br />
<div></div>Next stop- New York<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFP3nL33Qd3LMoACUktjiBCSBIAhMqRoh-Kk6StM294tU8_DWhQ2eAkDPND-SNNY2Ce2D1sVioepEMo0TXEJDIuVD5YToiEbmZ9yrImJ3s6WlmsS96KQRWvNH8q6RYWeFHPDfoW_4xc04/s1600/DSC07182.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFP3nL33Qd3LMoACUktjiBCSBIAhMqRoh-Kk6StM294tU8_DWhQ2eAkDPND-SNNY2Ce2D1sVioepEMo0TXEJDIuVD5YToiEbmZ9yrImJ3s6WlmsS96KQRWvNH8q6RYWeFHPDfoW_4xc04/s320/DSC07182.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Elena and Angelo (aka A & B) were nice enough to wake me up bright and early for a trip to the playground (which seems like a death trap, right?) before their first play. We went to see the puppet version of <em>Wizard of Oz</em> and Elena showed off her moves weaseling her way to the front row (I was thinking how proud grandmom would have been). They also introduced me to The Little Gym which should be my next career given it is Little Money Pit to join.</div><br />
Of course I had to catch up with all the yummy NYC food (really the only NYC <em>thing</em> I missed) and my great NYC friends (who I did miss). I was really nervous about returning to New York fearing I would instantly be stressed and impatient, but I'm happy to report it wasn't able to shake my new mellowness. In fact, it didn't really feel so manic.<br />
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Believe it or not, I really didn't mind being homeless living out of a backpack, but it was nice to get a little bit of my old life back (and some clothes from storage). And thankfully Victoria was able to return my hair to it's proper color! <br />
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<div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijZx_LQ9Z4naMUi9PEoxpZY5GL8BQ6STUR-QOoQLpAX67N1I1lm9KPe8h-G40OP1ibSRNAkNL16RaZvflEWUtXa0vNj58-Q4Z2nOYuajWoC7sb47ZUj6ThCYYhh3X_3QnE2mOGc_uYc7w/s1600/DSC07200.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijZx_LQ9Z4naMUi9PEoxpZY5GL8BQ6STUR-QOoQLpAX67N1I1lm9KPe8h-G40OP1ibSRNAkNL16RaZvflEWUtXa0vNj58-Q4Z2nOYuajWoC7sb47ZUj6ThCYYhh3X_3QnE2mOGc_uYc7w/s320/DSC07200.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Luckily, I also returned in time to enjoy the social event of the season-- Cora's 4th birthday party at the Camden Children's Garden. How is it that the merry-go-round makes all the grown-ups sick yet the kids love it?<br />
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For those that are curious if I got what I was looking for from this trip, I thought I would sum up my feelings. To be fair, I wasn't <em>really</em> looking for anything in particular so it was pretty easy to achieve that goal!<br />
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First, my favorites:<br />
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<u>Favorite Places</u>- Funny enough, my favorite places seem to be those where the people live under terrible, oppressive governments, yet still manage to be lovely and generous-- Burma and Cuba. Perhaps it is also because these countries are less touristic so I got a sense of genuine life.<br />
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<u>Favorite Region</u>- SE Asia. I just love this part of the world- great, hard working people, yummy food, it's cheap and so different from our Western existence. Refreshing!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmq9WWfph3Aq_NR6JbEWMifsd4iF2CBvWpC17CYQlMS8fOAZF9kcQOH46ouRgSz7nJWdFOKniHOKTvnvEb4VUtKp058zZ5J-OPeEzhtRd4BmoY2PZyZd8zpfkgfusx2SDWnQAA6gkLuc4/s1600/DSC00122.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmq9WWfph3Aq_NR6JbEWMifsd4iF2CBvWpC17CYQlMS8fOAZF9kcQOH46ouRgSz7nJWdFOKniHOKTvnvEb4VUtKp058zZ5J-OPeEzhtRd4BmoY2PZyZd8zpfkgfusx2SDWnQAA6gkLuc4/s320/DSC00122.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><u>Most Beautiful</u>- South Africa with such varied and stunning landscapes, hopefully they can fix their problems<br />
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<u>Most Spectacular (Natural)</u>- Salar de Uyuni in Bolivia, the sand dunes of the Namibian desert, Mt. Everest and Turkey's Cappadocia and Pamukkale<br />
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<u>Most Spectacular (Man-Made)</u>- Burma's Bagan, Cambodia's Angkor Wat, Machu Picchu in Peru and the Great Wall of China<br />
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<u>Best Food</u>- Come on, Italy of course! Top meal goes to <a href="http://www.fragoletta.it/">Antica Osteria della Fragoletta</a> in Mantua--- ah, that panna cotta with zinfandel and strawberries still makes me salivate! Those meals at the vineyard were also pretty incredible, too bad I can't replicate them now :-( <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht7LIkCDb7_kB-k-8hElgKaoBdGQ5jQIil2HVsz4JniH_K0V1wyr5po3PUC8VKx9bhCLr2mO36sKsuPPXBvUdYuF_CT1aEbE7Jr3L9jK0SEzM2oYoxWCE2iOoO4Cyb1WhmfsdoKz9wWuk/s1600/DSC04360.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht7LIkCDb7_kB-k-8hElgKaoBdGQ5jQIil2HVsz4JniH_K0V1wyr5po3PUC8VKx9bhCLr2mO36sKsuPPXBvUdYuF_CT1aEbE7Jr3L9jK0SEzM2oYoxWCE2iOoO4Cyb1WhmfsdoKz9wWuk/s320/DSC04360.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><u>Best Drinks</u>- Wine tasting around the world-- South Africa, New Zealand and Chile being my favs (the only problem with SE Asia is their lack of wine, but they do have $0.50 beer)<br />
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<u>Best Nightlife</u>- Budapest, Argentina and Cuba definitely top that list<br />
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<u>Best Shower</u>- The <a href="http://www.gibbonexperience.org/">Gibbon Experience</a> tree house shower, there is nothing like it anywhere<br />
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<u>Funniest</u>- Chasing down my bus on a motorcycle in Phnom Pehn, Cambodia<br />
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<u>Most Bazaar</u>- The fire balloon festival in Burma- fireworks up close look pretty different<br />
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<u>Most Exhilarating</u>- Being face-to-face with an enormous silver back gorilla in Rwanda and the perfect bungee dive over Victoria Falls<br />
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<u>Proudest</u>- Reaching Mt. Everest Base Camp in Nepal with a group of amazing women (and men, but the women were more amazing ;-)<br />
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.... and #1- ALL my new friends around the world!!!!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_rqbWZc2dLp3ff_A2KWvAHjYbRmHCf3POrahUXmOxrzF8DmCvtltUuprQz0lcGaKbfggBQhl35AhA1Tbq35lw15WG7AIQrp4UXTDjf-dsFVmXAJsZXP9EDmW13pme7ccqj92985bJ4Fg/s1600/DSC01348.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_rqbWZc2dLp3ff_A2KWvAHjYbRmHCf3POrahUXmOxrzF8DmCvtltUuprQz0lcGaKbfggBQhl35AhA1Tbq35lw15WG7AIQrp4UXTDjf-dsFVmXAJsZXP9EDmW13pme7ccqj92985bJ4Fg/s320/DSC01348.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Now, some lessons learned:<br />
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People are genuinely good. I traveled, mostly alone, to 35 countries with virtually no problems. Strangers throughout the world really looked out for me. The people of Rwanda checking my ticket to make sure I was boarding the correct bus. The little boy in Cambodia whisking me away from my <em>hugger</em>? The taxi driver in Colombia who found us a safe bus and then practically held our hands. While they may not have material things they are kind and have a generosity of spirit.<br />
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Everything works out when you don't have a plan. I finally learned to be happy in the moment with no set expectations and really enjoyed life as it presented itself. It's must less frustrating! Although I over planned Africa, I am glad the rest of the trip was open since it allowed me to visit all sorts of unexpected and amazing places, some of which ended up being my favorites.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYiVfd91YmoiQBBhnY_VLjqATq_DiCB54INWjJIsSqMxM9m6ETHhw2T9DvnFCBjw151tWFQxPen_IvsRazm2bRFXbqMBRNKTmCm0j4p7aKNxE4vLyKZqeMgRKIFkmnSwcDPjOiXcvhKPE/s1600/img_9687.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYiVfd91YmoiQBBhnY_VLjqATq_DiCB54INWjJIsSqMxM9m6ETHhw2T9DvnFCBjw151tWFQxPen_IvsRazm2bRFXbqMBRNKTmCm0j4p7aKNxE4vLyKZqeMgRKIFkmnSwcDPjOiXcvhKPE/s320/img_9687.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>You miss so much rushing, rushing, rushing. With time and patience a delay or unexpected closure doesn't matter so much. I never would have chatted with the Cambodian teacher about his morality class, discussed Harry Potter with a Burmese monk or bought art from Sampath at <a href="http://www.phareps.org/index.php?option=com_content&view=frontpage&Itemid=1&lang=en">Phare Ponleu Selpak</a> if I had somewhere to be, and I would have missed out.<br />
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We have NOTHING to complain about. Ours lives are pretty sweet and for the most part we've chosen to complicate our lives and can also choose to simplify them. There is NO reason to be unhappy-- find your passion, figure out what makes you happy and do it!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2X6T36JGzyMBQRdl39DU33FfZI0UTySMS80XdzMjCrhIfgLN4DvO3S-ZrOqWm5cRax8_r0Lw6FDm8CtIQSgqLyx7HG4_97fVRyzzgeCkpjPkdSnlkY1OXYD_gQ53g0UKhBaQGj4GTURI/s1600/P1100073.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2X6T36JGzyMBQRdl39DU33FfZI0UTySMS80XdzMjCrhIfgLN4DvO3S-ZrOqWm5cRax8_r0Lw6FDm8CtIQSgqLyx7HG4_97fVRyzzgeCkpjPkdSnlkY1OXYD_gQ53g0UKhBaQGj4GTURI/s320/P1100073.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>I've traveled all over the world only being able to speak English, I can do anything!<br />
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I am afraid of nothing, except maybe the uncertainty of my future. ;-)<br />
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It's liberating not being defined by 'what you do', or identifying yourself that way, and just being comfortable with who you are.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-GxqbqQeLMiEJi3_Hwe2XKUXJV8zukhD0gjemx2rtWdTxVoJrdhKXKyLX7cHvxdJQMOzCxdTt__RU5iakqedoKdz2boTkrugeVjEez2j_Zo5hyphenhyphenK-VuG3Bg6IwvxEBwDPkUsKlxCG4WCM/s1600/DSC00926.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-GxqbqQeLMiEJi3_Hwe2XKUXJV8zukhD0gjemx2rtWdTxVoJrdhKXKyLX7cHvxdJQMOzCxdTt__RU5iakqedoKdz2boTkrugeVjEez2j_Zo5hyphenhyphenK-VuG3Bg6IwvxEBwDPkUsKlxCG4WCM/s320/DSC00926.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>I am lucky to have been born in the US, especially as a woman. Alfonse in Rwanda and Zha Zha in Burma are unforgett- able kids that weren't so lucky. Even with our problems, it really still is the land of opportunity if you work hard. But, we do have to work <em>really</em> hard!! Europeans have a much better perspective on the work/life balance and value their holidays-- we are the suckers with our 2 week vacations!<br />
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Even with Obama, people still hate Americans, with many Brits thinking we are all stupid (yes, amazingly rude and close minded, but true). To be fair, we don't help ourselves with the popularity of stupid people like Sarah Palin and TV shows that glamorize the ignorant (e.g., Jersey Shore). We really need to have more pride! (Wow, I sound like Dad-- am I getting old?)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9oxM1O4U2eJEUT_x_GOiSb8XSgPRK_b7T2nVf3UdpnDEdMw4eDg1AL71OZgf63FmC0IcUKoW6Hajcm_e4MkcnBqPw63sLKHYayUieaRVtTHQcbRSjiy8DLvir-BilAf1jX_S8QMkqXqs/s1600/DSC00898.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9oxM1O4U2eJEUT_x_GOiSb8XSgPRK_b7T2nVf3UdpnDEdMw4eDg1AL71OZgf63FmC0IcUKoW6Hajcm_e4MkcnBqPw63sLKHYayUieaRVtTHQcbRSjiy8DLvir-BilAf1jX_S8QMkqXqs/s320/DSC00898.JPG" width="213" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">UNESCO has too many World Heritage Sites!!!!</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">This trip was by far the best thing I've ever done! <strong>I</strong> <strong>highly, highly</strong> <strong>recommend it!! </strong> And for those of you with kids, I did meet a few families traveling for a year, so it can be done. It is life changing, and with some effort hopefully permanent since I like new, mellow me way better! :-)</div><br />
But wait, I am not done yet, I still need to see the U S of A! :-)Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03761254329951728715noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7077756613019007351.post-24883629793810013302011-07-08T00:39:00.051-04:002011-07-09T15:55:56.684-04:00The Best for Last<div dir="ltr" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: left;" trbidi="on">What better way to end my worldwide adventure than with an old friend for the best Semana Santa (aka Holy Week) festivities in the world in Antigua, Guatemala. <br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DmEJqq36u28/ThZz1Ba35aI/AAAAAAAAEHk/iZQGG3GC3Lc/s1600/DSC07131.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" m$="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DmEJqq36u28/ThZz1Ba35aI/AAAAAAAAEHk/iZQGG3GC3Lc/s320/DSC07131.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">George and I worked together <em>way</em> back in the advertising days and like me he fled New York and corporate America for his own adventure in Guatemala, starting a travel agency in Antigua.</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div>I had originally intended to start my journey in Antigua, but my giant weather spreadsheet lead me in a different direction. I’m glad it did since spending time with George helped ease the pain of my trip coming to an end.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_eLaZ6ZgasE/ThZ1NMN8GuI/AAAAAAAAEKI/xXbUcRYLrCA/s1600/George%2527s+Procession2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="221" m$="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_eLaZ6ZgasE/ThZ1NMN8GuI/AAAAAAAAEKI/xXbUcRYLrCA/s400/George%2527s+Procession2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Although a little late, I arrived to Antigua in time to wish George a happy 50th birthday (I know, he looks half that age ;-) and see the first of many Semana Santa processions. How nice that they threw George a procession for his birthday! A good introduction to a lovely town.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Antigua is in the central highlands, about an hours’ windy drive from Guatemala City, and you guessed it, ANOTHER UNESCO WORLD HERITAGE SITE. It’s a colonial town, founded in 1543 by Spanish conquistadors after the neighboring town was destroyed by the nearby Volcan de Agua. Known for its Spanish Mudujar-influenced Baroque architecture and ruins of colonial churches, Antigua is the tourist (and expat) heart of Guatemala. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-khUVbiO7e_0/ThZxt24ibAI/AAAAAAAAD_s/MHHEcXvKU1k/s1600/DSC07011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" m$="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-khUVbiO7e_0/ThZxt24ibAI/AAAAAAAAD_s/MHHEcXvKU1k/s320/DSC07011.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>In addition to the previously mentioned Volcan de Aqua, to the west of Antigua is Volcan de Acatenango (which erupted in 1972) and Volcan de Fuego, the most active. George kept saying the volcanoes make the city even more striking, but I didn’t get a glimpse until 6am on day 4 when the clouds finally lifted and they showed themselves, complete with puffs of smoke!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cUDbNUwXvq8/ThZu5HzIzQI/AAAAAAAAD3M/NcUmW_pL9Kg/s1600/DSC06863.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" m$="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cUDbNUwXvq8/ThZu5HzIzQI/AAAAAAAAD3M/NcUmW_pL9Kg/s320/DSC06863.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Unfortu- nately volcanoes aren’t the only problem, in 1717 a 7.4 magnitude earthquake hit Antigua destroying over 3,000 buildings, followed by another in 1773 leaving the city destroyed and all but abandoned--- hence all those church ruins.<br />
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Good thing everyone didn’t leave or we wouldn’t have modern day Antigua and its famous Semana Santa (or Santa Semana as I prefer since it sounds jollier).<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7-mmyHu1QjY/ThZys4dyudI/AAAAAAAAEDQ/zrrUjfn1eQU/s1600/DSC07059.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" m$="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7-mmyHu1QjY/ThZys4dyudI/AAAAAAAAEDQ/zrrUjfn1eQU/s320/DSC07059.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>During Holy Week Antigua is abuzz with procession after procession of a crucified Jesus. So Christ doesn’t have to walk on the bare street, people spend hours creating beautiful, elaborate and colorful ‘carpets’, or alfombras, along the procession route. <br />
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I am not talking about a block or two; these processions sometimes start in the middle of the night and go for 12 hours, with 100 men at a time carrying the float. That means a LOT of carpets! <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-n7f2MFf03sU/ThZwVuRaPoI/AAAAAAAAD7o/Lp3kGDOcA2g/s1600/DSC06940.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" m$="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-n7f2MFf03sU/ThZwVuRaPoI/AAAAAAAAD7o/Lp3kGDOcA2g/s320/DSC06940.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>It also means a lot of time walking around the cutesy city looking at alfombras, as families traditionally design new carpets each year made of dyed sawdust, pine needles and flowers. All that Catholic school finally came in handy as I was able to interpret some of the themes--- yeah, loaves and fishes (I always liked that one- it seemed like magic)!<br />
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In fact, I took a 6AM walking tour of the carpets on Good Friday to see the best and biggest (there was still an ice cream vendor out at 5:45AM). Unfortunately they were not as impressive as normal given the overnight rain (Easter was late this year and bumped up against Guatemala’s rainy season), but they were still pretty incredible!<br />
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Very un-American--- there is no competition. No winner! What?<br />
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That is okay; I had my own personal awards:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-w8iexts_884/ThZxI0t3b_I/AAAAAAAAD90/Ou2E_umIuz0/s1600/DSC06979.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" m$="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-w8iexts_884/ThZxI0t3b_I/AAAAAAAAD90/Ou2E_umIuz0/s320/DSC06979.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-THFQw1tfhsc/ThZyLgqXLPI/AAAAAAAAEBM/gvcpY09H7j8/s1600/DSC07036.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" m$="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-THFQw1tfhsc/ThZyLgqXLPI/AAAAAAAAEBM/gvcpY09H7j8/s320/DSC07036.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pQRlVHranWk/ThZzLNKie4I/AAAAAAAAEFM/27gVZcttzSU/s1600/DSC07090.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" m$="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pQRlVHranWk/ThZzLNKie4I/AAAAAAAAEFM/27gVZcttzSU/s320/DSC07090.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UlwGTWI9Im4/ThZw-g9vIGI/AAAAAAAAD9U/cGwa_y4y47M/s1600/DSC06975.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" m$="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UlwGTWI9Im4/ThZw-g9vIGI/AAAAAAAAD9U/cGwa_y4y47M/s320/DSC06975.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">And the best….. watermelon Jesus!!!!!!!!</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ODQT73G2YYE/ThZx6iPZBsI/AAAAAAAAEAY/QXmpm8Lqyvo/s1600/DSC07025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" m$="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ODQT73G2YYE/ThZx6iPZBsI/AAAAAAAAEAY/QXmpm8Lqyvo/s320/DSC07025.JPG" width="239" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hF1zWVOgrrU/ThZy3RWQagI/AAAAAAAAED0/kJ52J9u24QA/s1600/DSC07073.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" m$="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hF1zWVOgrrU/ThZy3RWQagI/AAAAAAAAED0/kJ52J9u24QA/s320/DSC07073.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">We also had the perfect viewing spot for the largest procession from La Merced. Picture Roman soldiers, some on horseback, hundreds of men in purple carrying the crucified Jesus on a humongous float, weighing more than 3 tons. Smell the incense. Hear the slow melancholy band. What a site! It is pretty moving and I don’t even consider myself religious!</div><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">The men are then followed by women in white carrying the Mary statue, dressed in black today since she is in mourning.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-x8-8-JEEpjs/ThZz030jMeI/AAAAAAAAEHg/PFKW736FHiI/s1600/DSC07129.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" m$="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-x8-8-JEEpjs/ThZz030jMeI/AAAAAAAAEHg/PFKW736FHiI/s320/DSC07129.JPG" width="320" /></a>We also had primo position for a bit of wine and the procession from the Cathedral being at the only window next door to the Cathedral thanks the George’s friend. Super cool and SO much better than being with the masses in Parque Central! I have dibs on it for next year!</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TkQG5dGB-L4/ThZwHBJSl7I/AAAAAAAAD7A/El7QaQ-HhZ4/s1600/DSC06930.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" m$="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TkQG5dGB-L4/ThZwHBJSl7I/AAAAAAAAD7A/El7QaQ-HhZ4/s320/DSC06930.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">These processions go day and night and are really very solemn and reverential-- people here are really pretty holy.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--j-AV6hgVTo/ThZwDP1kXiI/AAAAAAAAD60/SYkImrRgl8Q/s1600/DSC06919.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" m$="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--j-AV6hgVTo/ThZwDP1kXiI/AAAAAAAAD60/SYkImrRgl8Q/s320/DSC06919.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">The one thing I didn’t really get was the Children’s procession where the kids max out at 10 years of age. Seriously, what has a 7-year-old done that needs atoning for by carrying a really heavy wooden thing around for hours? We would never do that to our kids—certainly this is cruel and unusual punishment.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Although processions and carpets dominated, I did get a look at some of Antigua’s more interesting sites per George’s recommendation.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yvOG7FeqTzI/ThZvmofSNpI/AAAAAAAAD5I/oWddE03Kg08/s1600/DSC06904.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" m$="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yvOG7FeqTzI/ThZvmofSNpI/AAAAAAAAD5I/oWddE03Kg08/s320/DSC06904.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>The Cathedral of San Jose was once one of the largest cathedrals in Central America, but has only been partially rebuilt after the 1773 earthquake. It is lovely from the outside, bordering Parque Central, but the interior is nothing special.<br />
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La Merced Church is a lovely yellow and white baroque building opened in 1767 and home of the largest Semana Santa procession.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TQ3XXbdowdk/ThZuyDfFn_I/AAAAAAAAD24/CsvbGQdl-Gk/s1600/DSC06858.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" m$="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TQ3XXbdowdk/ThZuyDfFn_I/AAAAAAAAD24/CsvbGQdl-Gk/s320/DSC06858.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Pilgrimage site Inglesia de San Francisco is home to Saint Joseph Betancur, who was canonized in 2002, complete with his hall of miracles. Nice! The garden within the ruins is also a lovely spot. The best part was George’s delightful fishing friend Wilver buying me churros in the courtyard--- awh, so sweet and yummy!!!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4bTpJxN7WfA/ThZvTjlzQbI/AAAAAAAAD4I/8aRKg8nlWqI/s1600/DSC06885.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" m$="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4bTpJxN7WfA/ThZvTjlzQbI/AAAAAAAAD4I/8aRKg8nlWqI/s320/DSC06885.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Santa Clara, constructed in 1734 didn't last long before being destroyed in the 1773 earth- quake. Too bad- it must have been impressive since the gardens and ruins are still beautiful.<br />
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Across the street from Santa Clara are public clothes-washing sinks, where George tells me village women still come to do their laundry.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9FN6Vwi9KCE/ThZub70lrtI/AAAAAAAAD10/yflZv5nZEQk/s1600/DSC06832.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" m$="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9FN6Vwi9KCE/ThZub70lrtI/AAAAAAAAD10/yflZv5nZEQk/s320/DSC06832.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Santo Domingo is a ruined monastery dating from 1538 that now houses interesting museums and a very nice hotel.<br />
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I also loved zipping around on George’s scooter with people staring at the gringos, going to the Cross in the Hill to take in the whole city near sunset. I disagree, George doesn't drive like Chucky! ;-)</div><br />
The mime giving (verbal) directions to a tourist was also a highlight--- hello, you are a mime!!!!!!!!!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PeZ-QaaH9UQ/ThZziPoYcmI/AAAAAAAAEGc/KZwRFQENB4M/s1600/DSC07119.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" m$="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PeZ-QaaH9UQ/ThZziPoYcmI/AAAAAAAAEGc/KZwRFQENB4M/s320/DSC07119.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><a href="http://www.georges-travelclub.com/">George’s Travel Club</a> also brought some lovely and fun clients to town who provided some amusement. And of course being with a former New Yorker, we ate well! One restaurant even made an alfombra for us to walk on which was fun (even if the pine needles stuck to my shoes).<br />
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Maybe it's wrong, but what a happy Holy Week I had! <br />
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Thanks to George for being the cherry on top of a magnificent year abroad :-)</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03761254329951728715noreply@blogger.com0Guatemala15.783471 -90.23075899999997813.6906225 -92.267358999999971 17.8763195 -88.194158999999985tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7077756613019007351.post-48288959923459779772011-06-08T14:46:00.001-04:002011-06-08T14:46:42.708-04:00Getting Warmer<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIGlcs4zqFNsLXo8CoJkkTdRKK9JqpcCAhuoVzKR4qnTlLgMA3TIrq0zaenQ0ThXnmke00sRwRfKnABWzoGwgU2koeRDBUfEiz0h2K20M78j4dTktlvaKXJvMAA9j3MJ9IcmKcp2c9szE/s1600/DSC06631.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIGlcs4zqFNsLXo8CoJkkTdRKK9JqpcCAhuoVzKR4qnTlLgMA3TIrq0zaenQ0ThXnmke00sRwRfKnABWzoGwgU2koeRDBUfEiz0h2K20M78j4dTktlvaKXJvMAA9j3MJ9IcmKcp2c9szE/s320/DSC06631.JPG" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div>The first bus (aka, large minivan) ride from Villa de Leyva to San Gil was AWESOME! It's amazing any vehicle was driving these steep and windy mud roads through tiny villages and farmlands. It was really pretty, but better yet it was like being on an amusement ride, minus all the safety features. Luckily all four wheels stayed on the ground and we made it safely to Arcabuco.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigXstfOqCknRpf4m8jWsfODzxYjarOkbE5894Lgd6Q8KkStSkDLk67Y9kJUeP3QE5AQL5uqfm9eHQe1O9Z7gy3FTD8dNXhHBkNO1VhF93SnV1exJ7cuM9pS_U31Os3shD8T4IsjnCg13U/s1600/DSC06636.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigXstfOqCknRpf4m8jWsfODzxYjarOkbE5894Lgd6Q8KkStSkDLk67Y9kJUeP3QE5AQL5uqfm9eHQe1O9Z7gy3FTD8dNXhHBkNO1VhF93SnV1exJ7cuM9pS_U31Os3shD8T4IsjnCg13U/s320/DSC06636.JPG" t8="true" width="241" /></a></div>The second bus we flagged down to San Gil was much longer, but also more comfortable as we rode shotgun and could see all the action-- some pretty scenery and a few towns that we were glad to be passing by (gotta love the mustache!).<br />
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San Gil is the hilly, outdoor capital of Colombia, known for its white-water rafting and cheap paragliding. Arriving on a Sunday there wasn’t much to do so we listed to Ivan, the owner of Santander Aleman, and wandered about town (he was super, super nice and even gave us bracelets the color of the Colombian flag when we departed- we heart Ivan!!!!). <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7RjzAO2dS71spmZvxDi7NClpFKwJuWRvvkXnIrwethfSzA7alBkUwpXAWSWwptdbYG7k3Vg3siR4pTOKgdQzfZ-TIW5klceT4M7lDnb0o3QHLpQ8etisK9PRcDiryUgCHO-0nOV_kBUE/s1600/Colombia+106.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7RjzAO2dS71spmZvxDi7NClpFKwJuWRvvkXnIrwethfSzA7alBkUwpXAWSWwptdbYG7k3Vg3siR4pTOKgdQzfZ-TIW5klceT4M7lDnb0o3QHLpQ8etisK9PRcDiryUgCHO-0nOV_kBUE/s320/Colombia+106.JPG" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div>Off to a good start- a bargain, delish rotisserie chicken and fries (I guess they like their pollo since these spots were all over town). The best part? The plastic gloves provided so our hands stayed grease free as we chowed down. Why don't we do that?<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO3ilPI65zXoLCBGM_-_qwK9dHKNQ6HW1HuFAsCJ8VpibvRValHe6VPIlpA3cTzc5AytvR7wNmLwg6IzMLp15XxZdQfaEEuzE6-svU-Mc9a4EIVWyOOM8KPwiRVUTZd_PCckkYbXImXfs/s1600/DSC06641.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO3ilPI65zXoLCBGM_-_qwK9dHKNQ6HW1HuFAsCJ8VpibvRValHe6VPIlpA3cTzc5AytvR7wNmLwg6IzMLp15XxZdQfaEEuzE6-svU-Mc9a4EIVWyOOM8KPwiRVUTZd_PCckkYbXImXfs/s320/DSC06641.JPG" t8="true" width="240" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">We then went to Parque El Gallineral on the Rio Fonce to see the trees covered with long moss called barbas de viejo, or old man’s beard. They were huge and really cool, even in the rain, especially the marriage tree of two intertwined trees.<br />
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The main plaza was another pit stop where we peaked inside the 18th-century stone Catedral Santa Cruz. It was then a hike uphill to see Shaun, extreme sports guru, to get excited <em>or scared</em> by all the ridiculous activities we could do while in San Gil.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2wAOVGPKTwUD-GO8KvgoLHtO30AloImW4xWus2MNzyhN2aDtc-HipwzRPTTBQPm-kyl90whRx0wPKDiasW5WH1BXtHvz-G3hJrepK21xUrcD9Y9pxOd0Q7U4wsYyr1itfBWRd7RGDKWo/s1600/DSC06671.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2wAOVGPKTwUD-GO8KvgoLHtO30AloImW4xWus2MNzyhN2aDtc-HipwzRPTTBQPm-kyl90whRx0wPKDiasW5WH1BXtHvz-G3hJrepK21xUrcD9Y9pxOd0Q7U4wsYyr1itfBWRd7RGDKWo/s320/DSC06671.JPG" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div>Part of the reason we headed this way was to visit Barichara, <em>another </em>colonial town that <em>shockingly</em> has cobblestone and white-washed buildings! It actually is a charming little town with the Cathedral de la Inmaculada Concepcion dominating the skyline (it is huge in comparison to the other buildings). <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtR3QzDN9GaZOwlD_LpWMQSFthr-ELyAh31Grek9sU1JJYWeaa7FBhfeiRgJOIdDdHvUhCKmh2XhgbZlgWIR1ezLaISt1UGoCnRBE0MlXSmYJ3dJcGCB-EZ1mCtQTIPV88lnVV7IONhaM/s1600/DSC06672.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtR3QzDN9GaZOwlD_LpWMQSFthr-ELyAh31Grek9sU1JJYWeaa7FBhfeiRgJOIdDdHvUhCKmh2XhgbZlgWIR1ezLaISt1UGoCnRBE0MlXSmYJ3dJcGCB-EZ1mCtQTIPV88lnVV7IONhaM/s320/DSC06672.JPG" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div>We especially liked the little angel we met at Iglesia de Santa Barbara who sent us to the Parque par alas Artes, a little park with lots of sculpture, fountains and a great view of the valley.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5wB99LJwez4o04Rhq7KG8DA2DInv73iBirN-BXcPKezgfuvhYXGWzdgmyteokiM_5D7StHJoBkTjLd4H-U0vVaKDEYVm56cPhcFzkWjTpKnOAsr7BS5WM7sw54K0NyDyLGptpKsiRvfU/s1600/DSC06706.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5wB99LJwez4o04Rhq7KG8DA2DInv73iBirN-BXcPKezgfuvhYXGWzdgmyteokiM_5D7StHJoBkTjLd4H-U0vVaKDEYVm56cPhcFzkWjTpKnOAsr7BS5WM7sw54K0NyDyLGptpKsiRvfU/s320/DSC06706.JPG" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div>Since it doesn’t take long to see the sites of Barichara we had time to hike the El Camino Real, an ancient stone-paved road to Guane, a town where even less happens. ;-)<br />
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I was all about testing out the Class V rapids of Rio Suarez, but sadly there was too much rain and the river was too dangerous to raft. <em>Finally</em> I am in a place with good rapids and they are too good—boo! <br />
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The bargain paragliding was also a bust due to the weather so we really didn’t get to fully take advantage of San Gil. Thank god for Ivan and his breakfast--- he made it worth the stop!!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBdZO0-8wAHE-VYfQGuLTP5uTslDWq08Yv0RDhLCNWJioIcbYJfMHl5i7owcSufE8Y0rO7JLCaSKYrp_rUg4MJjEXbhE8NAvOPAvdpFUqiRW0ynhKHxwGlItKL5CWbXNczfJCtABdQe1Q/s1600/DSC06709.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBdZO0-8wAHE-VYfQGuLTP5uTslDWq08Yv0RDhLCNWJioIcbYJfMHl5i7owcSufE8Y0rO7JLCaSKYrp_rUg4MJjEXbhE8NAvOPAvdpFUqiRW0ynhKHxwGlItKL5CWbXNczfJCtABdQe1Q/s320/DSC06709.JPG" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div>Another mini bus took us to Bucara- manga, one of the largest cities in Colombia and capital of Santander, where we immediately connected to an overnight bus to Medellin. Despite the amusing warning at the front of the bus, both Evaline and I made it without being motion sick. It was quite a hike, but you guessed it--- Ambien!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBBVf8oYmbYhjWY9qfE_sGM86FFoBy0WW4gWEtxxvNIoLTYoNc5iRKSOdNDySnCytJRXVwbU9drBomCw2lTCZfEsv3HoJHs2_WIY9QSNBRj95F-7rAbvrKbo74jCdUdEre9MdTVlmAELc/s1600/DSC06716.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBBVf8oYmbYhjWY9qfE_sGM86FFoBy0WW4gWEtxxvNIoLTYoNc5iRKSOdNDySnCytJRXVwbU9drBomCw2lTCZfEsv3HoJHs2_WIY9QSNBRj95F-7rAbvrKbo74jCdUdEre9MdTVlmAELc/s320/DSC06716.JPG" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div>Medellin was home to Pablo Escobar, infamous leader of the Colombian drug cartel and the reason why Medellin has a sinister reputation. Perhaps more accurate- the "City of Eternal Spring" due to his lovely climate.<br />
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Apart from Parque de Bolivar which was pretty sketchy (more prostitutes), I kinda liked Medellin. Their metro is great, but we never sampled the cable car since the purpose seems to be to transport poor people back to the slums atop the hill—perhaps not so scenic and voyeuristic?<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf4MT8bSt1yR1BAQx5QamxMa4EXB4z1nn6_YNYSwyAwwRLJtp2nE_egPLWEUEvqPbmrWGTZC1tp8Y-w_A7-WUwuscJeXbAXAMaJbVvQLpyP2XQtvZ_b9PyODPcfqaxxgWMLTmjXGTbh00/s1600/DSC06712.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf4MT8bSt1yR1BAQx5QamxMa4EXB4z1nn6_YNYSwyAwwRLJtp2nE_egPLWEUEvqPbmrWGTZC1tp8Y-w_A7-WUwuscJeXbAXAMaJbVvQLpyP2XQtvZ_b9PyODPcfqaxxgWMLTmjXGTbh00/s320/DSC06712.JPG" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div>The newly relocated Museo de Antioquia was really good, of course with more Botero chub-chubs inside and out in the Plazoleta de las Esculturas. The newly refurbished Jardin Botanico sounded good, but it was really a bit of a letdown, especially the orchid garden.<br />
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Based on universally rave reviews, we stayed at Buddha House outside the city center. I am not exactly sure what the raves were all about? It was very far from the center (subway AND bus), up a steep hill, totally disorganized, isolated from everything and apparently I was allergic to all the surrounding nature. One day was enough before we moved to a place in El Pablado, aka zona rosa where all the action happens.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhthbwYHue8GLhGDCwMyysCAOgFkJyfy1Sk0uQPEWb6DF4XIl9qt4pdCpqydY78DnwNdJ_W7rx4qk4bHw_383OkUmZbjJCxzIKIBETsGwL16u08eOuTZYAYOV8JwqFuCa6L3nzcD82fswc/s1600/DSC06719.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhthbwYHue8GLhGDCwMyysCAOgFkJyfy1Sk0uQPEWb6DF4XIl9qt4pdCpqydY78DnwNdJ_W7rx4qk4bHw_383OkUmZbjJCxzIKIBETsGwL16u08eOuTZYAYOV8JwqFuCa6L3nzcD82fswc/s320/DSC06719.JPG" t8="true" width="240" /></a></div>Although the nightlife and restaurants were nothing to write about (perhaps the worst Thai food of all time, but I loved, loved, loved Mundoverde Salud Gourmet), zona rosa did offer some good people watching! It also had some good shopping as you’ll see next time I wear my new bikini (you’ll also see a little more butt! ;-)<br />
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It was a LONG early morning drive to the airport to catch our flight to Cartagena, via Bogota. Can anyone explain why we would need to get out of the teeny tiny taxi while they pumped gas?? Despite Evaline’s nervousness, we made it to the airport with plenty of time to spare (time reinvested in eating a jelly donut from Dunkin).<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF2zePytFR4c7Rs_wAnLFWXxSd2BCELPJVfZp6lD4AZJX7LX8gEmjAFq4DK1aq5LHtmnA39iaPZOSNb4iXGo5yC901YjWodhtSWL4yP5KMgTKw6ClNByBl8GNwxeTO_gTdoI08u8DDOKI/s1600/DSC06778.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF2zePytFR4c7Rs_wAnLFWXxSd2BCELPJVfZp6lD4AZJX7LX8gEmjAFq4DK1aq5LHtmnA39iaPZOSNb4iXGo5yC901YjWodhtSWL4yP5KMgTKw6ClNByBl8GNwxeTO_gTdoI08u8DDOKI/s320/DSC06778.JPG" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div>Having been in the hills for the first week and a bit chilly it was nice to return to full on summer. <br />
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Cartagena is another colonial city, but this one is on the Caribbean Sea surrounded by 13km of colonial stonewalls (damn pirates and Sir Francis Drake!) and is yet <em>another</em> UNESCO World Heritage Site (really, what isn’t?)<br />
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The old town is incredibly picturesque and charming. Lovely churches and mansions. Cobblestones. Plazas. Bougainvillea. Vibrant colors. No, Michael Douglas did not whisk me off my rooftop, but I loved it anyway. It is hard not to love!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwAP-db7WZejfvrhZ7HSbvc81Alq-RL4lNwuVgdlKC1MGJ8gDbpKasOYwBsvLuDaGu7BKQfW5v6EuMG1EC4WEVjoFu4GLxl9gwh7vEecE6mCWQ_b8XgdMkN1-WKuizLIl8Ym6QOcjK1kk/s1600/DSC06721.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwAP-db7WZejfvrhZ7HSbvc81Alq-RL4lNwuVgdlKC1MGJ8gDbpKasOYwBsvLuDaGu7BKQfW5v6EuMG1EC4WEVjoFu4GLxl9gwh7vEecE6mCWQ_b8XgdMkN1-WKuizLIl8Ym6QOcjK1kk/s320/DSC06721.JPG" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div>It is really a place to just roam around marveling at the beauty. We visited all the lovely plazas, including the Plaza de los Coches which is full of vendors selling very sugary coconut treats. <br />
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The Plaza de Bolivar is probably my favorite even if it does border the Palacio de la Inquisicion where those convicted of magic, witchcraft and blasphemy were condemned to death and executed.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0k8vIATRrxwt2mnDjtw4dpIcq_BP2Yu9esJA7DmdYEYZ6yw5fjuCQymZRXLZ0YWaZDWP0BxB0Aa7wOYtqqKoWaDtMy8DnYEtVBpq_T1RvXYZQ-so5Za6_q6X8xHIf2rAR4_3oPh5sQME/s1600/DSC06767.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0k8vIATRrxwt2mnDjtw4dpIcq_BP2Yu9esJA7DmdYEYZ6yw5fjuCQymZRXLZ0YWaZDWP0BxB0Aa7wOYtqqKoWaDtMy8DnYEtVBpq_T1RvXYZQ-so5Za6_q6X8xHIf2rAR4_3oPh5sQME/s320/DSC06767.JPG" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div>You know how important food is to me. Cartagena had everything on offer: ceviche, Latin influenced sushi, local fruit gelato, fresh fish, shiny gold brownies, etc. Yay!<br />
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They also had great music everywhere a la Cuba- really like Cuba at Cafe Havana, minus the $3 mojitos (Cartagena is not a bargain). Mister Babilla was a fun club playing all my Latin reggaeton faves that I now have on my iPod- we left at 3am and it showed no signs of slowing down. Café del Mar was a lounge atop the old city walls- cool!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMvRQufpdoFqbY3VvocyQ5T36s6q38H3xGQzZEGldbik7kHdIbCkKurAmCr6xKvq-CFcG5nl69T0OlwttVrmiKkNnLgxa8ZZRAAq2kVPECxD5J3V6sENi3lUqxii9xwiv6y0_R6U4F5YQ/s1600/DSC06739.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMvRQufpdoFqbY3VvocyQ5T36s6q38H3xGQzZEGldbik7kHdIbCkKurAmCr6xKvq-CFcG5nl69T0OlwttVrmiKkNnLgxa8ZZRAAq2kVPECxD5J3V6sENi3lUqxii9xwiv6y0_R6U4F5YQ/s320/DSC06739.JPG" t8="true" width="240" /></a></div>Like everyone in Colombia, the ladies at Casa Sweety were really sweet, even if they did try to give us cold eggs one morning. In general people here are super friendly. Sure, most of them are trying to sell something, but they are nice and just trying to earn a living, even if it does get old pretty quickly. <br />
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The only thing that was disappointing was the shopping, especially all the tourist crap at Las Bovedas, shops housed in 23 dungeons built into the city walls and once used as a jail during the republican era.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRSepNCyKpcSZDkCQ2E4i0RjxkVjgBf_9kMFAbFeaGsR2QrVQ5ICKcy0LA0xVO9436HkGL56x_r9PB21JPAy-imsOFVAWp3eGlBz4Z_XgQ1qKLzXQcBk26rgoe7QfDGqs5SUGcDlCg-LQ/s1600/DSC06780.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRSepNCyKpcSZDkCQ2E4i0RjxkVjgBf_9kMFAbFeaGsR2QrVQ5ICKcy0LA0xVO9436HkGL56x_r9PB21JPAy-imsOFVAWp3eGlBz4Z_XgQ1qKLzXQcBk26rgoe7QfDGqs5SUGcDlCg-LQ/s320/DSC06780.JPG" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div>Okay, maybe shopping wasn’t the only disappoint- ment. As we read the beaches aren’t so great and we hadn’t planned ahead to do the day trip to Islas Del Rosario (we were noncommittal based on the mixed to negative reviews). With limited options we braved Bocagrande (the Miami-esque part of town) and Hollywood Beach which was deemed more suitable for tourists. I can’t imagine what the other beaches are like, but this one appeared to be full of locals and aggressive vendors selling pretty much anything imaginable: massages, ceviche, shaved ice, sunglasses, jewelry, etc. The massage women were very persistent and quite amused by the difference in our skin tone—don’t they see how tan I am? ;-)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB24DgrB0zaYwotdm7RbLpEZy5jtuk9Km0a4s5LH4nbOaq3SEGoNR6BVPchFT6cEWen3o8-hm7nxU1lIDLHfSeGiUFqcY15DBaPfR49mdiysL9ofXIhODj0f6gIWShTenZVGKHBa4SLX8/s1600/DSC06788.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB24DgrB0zaYwotdm7RbLpEZy5jtuk9Km0a4s5LH4nbOaq3SEGoNR6BVPchFT6cEWen3o8-hm7nxU1lIDLHfSeGiUFqcY15DBaPfR49mdiysL9ofXIhODj0f6gIWShTenZVGKHBa4SLX8/s320/DSC06788.JPG" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div>Despite the lack of Michael Douglas, the roof deck at our hotel was a nice respite from the chaos on the beach. It was nice to relax while overlooking the lovely colonial architecture of the old city, especially at sunset.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbxZo8TSDc9wRtAFasw3AORs-ZxZpBNtOVWMswG46MS-BWVnOIo6_8VpNRYe0iw3TWwV_taDJnDiJnumAZAMBlcnkii-1bLnZjZnG7CtWlqsjubyls1GFKF2nlN3mymvdQzD3vzhF00Wc/s1600/DSC06812.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbxZo8TSDc9wRtAFasw3AORs-ZxZpBNtOVWMswG46MS-BWVnOIo6_8VpNRYe0iw3TWwV_taDJnDiJnumAZAMBlcnkii-1bLnZjZnG7CtWlqsjubyls1GFKF2nlN3mymvdQzD3vzhF00Wc/s320/DSC06812.JPG" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div>It is difficult to meet expect- ations when people rave about a country, but Columbia totally lived up to all the hype. Nice people, beautiful and diverse scenery, good food and nightlife, close to the U.S.--- why are you not already on a plane?</div>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03761254329951728715noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7077756613019007351.post-66717749878508516582011-06-08T14:46:00.000-04:002011-06-08T14:46:05.796-04:00No, It's Not Dangerous<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Cuba was so amazing it was going to be hard to match, but from everything I heard Colombia was up to the challenge.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiMnDAMBOow4KEYurfE6XQe4ORN2wwgGg6gbRumblzVdmtPcT2NW2MhRisGrtRx4kfm07-ZTy2jZx32dsE8ulBRYOIi1hzc6ncTZ5Zq3M7oRZ1qLZdIcpGeZ88s_BYxnqtlE7qvwPMRTQ/s1600/DSC06548.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiMnDAMBOow4KEYurfE6XQe4ORN2wwgGg6gbRumblzVdmtPcT2NW2MhRisGrtRx4kfm07-ZTy2jZx32dsE8ulBRYOIi1hzc6ncTZ5Zq3M7oRZ1qLZdIcpGeZ88s_BYxnqtlE7qvwPMRTQ/s320/DSC06548.JPG" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div>Yes, everyone thinks drug cartels, cocaine, danger. Some think Romancing the Stone (I still question the use of that brain space!) What you should be thinking--- when can I go?<br />
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I arrived in Bogota late, which is maybe not the best time to arrive since it all seemed a little shady. For example, on the way to La Candelaria (the colonial barrio) I saw what I assume were a prostitute’s breasts, the taxi driver leaned over and locked my door and once we arrived the driver and a local would not let me walk across Plazoleta del Chorro Quevedo (maybe the site of Bogota’s founding) without someone from Casa Bellavista meeting me. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj87sihUYU0Hhgc2mSzuR7WtNCA5w-T0pqjQWBrgdwxKJbJLnBnQnG0hirbCMKPPP28f9ZgVB5vE5c8vtlftKaBE7oKOFUtDM3dxHv6Bwg29knAxFVVccAXdJiZTQMrpfQ6_OywMvZWN68/s1600/DSC06560.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj87sihUYU0Hhgc2mSzuR7WtNCA5w-T0pqjQWBrgdwxKJbJLnBnQnG0hirbCMKPPP28f9ZgVB5vE5c8vtlftKaBE7oKOFUtDM3dxHv6Bwg29knAxFVVccAXdJiZTQMrpfQ6_OywMvZWN68/s320/DSC06560.JPG" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div>In daylight all those precautions seemed totally unnece- ssary. Of course, I didn’t really do much that day while waiting for Evaline to arrive from Chicago. I just hung around chatting with the super nice guys working at Casa Bellavista, with a quick walk in the rain to get Thai (how authentic!). <br />
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Evaline arrived late, but in time for a Costena (my fav beer after testing them all) and pizza at a cute, tiny spot on the square.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlms33hrJVSTV1zJ2nN-O-GJ42XsGbk09FmdP7uaHEBkO72K-1-WVyV1PmMlwFd8mlmjTnmwsOOSx9k9YIVxpHzdAHPaNQdp-OEBQLpzRcXbxLNubCNEI6d5v-zCxCk8bZtazb0E-wReI/s1600/DSC06550.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlms33hrJVSTV1zJ2nN-O-GJ42XsGbk09FmdP7uaHEBkO72K-1-WVyV1PmMlwFd8mlmjTnmwsOOSx9k9YIVxpHzdAHPaNQdp-OEBQLpzRcXbxLNubCNEI6d5v-zCxCk8bZtazb0E-wReI/s320/DSC06550.JPG" t8="true" width="240" /></a></div>The next morning we roamed about town checking out the sites.<br />
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The best- Museo del Oro, the gold museum that houses over 55,000 pieces from all the pre-Hispanic cultures in Colombia. It was extremely impressive and very well displayed, except the secret room with the light show illuminating a ton of gold pieces-- it was odd, I think they just needed something to do with all the leftover gold.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ71-UiPT2ka8lQnDVwhBGTBRfaCUvAzldb1Tk_xcn8Q5A2cAD5D3G98xF47HmKa0MO_a8MrrLC5wt_BzSbhomFgr6mwk7qUuHKa7A4RgcO41CG1KzjX0_xQnQXfbnkShfNX4Mpuo_VHo/s1600/DSC06569.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ71-UiPT2ka8lQnDVwhBGTBRfaCUvAzldb1Tk_xcn8Q5A2cAD5D3G98xF47HmKa0MO_a8MrrLC5wt_BzSbhomFgr6mwk7qUuHKa7A4RgcO41CG1KzjX0_xQnQXfbnkShfNX4Mpuo_VHo/s320/DSC06569.JPG" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div>The Plaza de Bolivar is inte- restingly surrounded by buildings of various styles, with only the Capilla del Sagrario dating from Spanish times. The Cathedral Primada is nothing special, but maybe that is not a surprise since it needed to be rebuilt four times due to poor foundations, earthquakes and riots. Of course the Palacio de Justicia hasn’t fared well either, having recently been reconstructed after being gutted during a 28-hour battle with M-19 guerrillas in 1985. The French style mayor’s office and neoclassical capital building were probably the nicest buildings on the Plaza.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAQNEYzlAYaIx2fo5J3KYFdDzy3gbM7jwZZkph0MQjUNziXNZwHEreI-twdMrleeQR4PYOaXiqP97RvVmvLj78BHysjV931r_nYblHM6zR52GO8WcnZeErjIRdWG8zdF_and4lUxVapDI/s1600/botero.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAQNEYzlAYaIx2fo5J3KYFdDzy3gbM7jwZZkph0MQjUNziXNZwHEreI-twdMrleeQR4PYOaXiqP97RvVmvLj78BHysjV931r_nYblHM6zR52GO8WcnZeErjIRdWG8zdF_and4lUxVapDI/s320/botero.jpg" t8="true" width="240" /></a></div>Bogota, and Colombia in general, is crazy about their local artist Fernando Botero. The Museo Botero and Casa Moneda museums are a maze of interesting art, including room after room of plumpness. Botero paints things in chubby form: oranges, hands, horses, religious people, even Pablo Escobar. I definitely would not want him doing my portrait! <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_BPN6DO0jc0CWQfcDHYLy6foVgTCK3IIg1NIsx4BA5OZNq54Nifb_4tNrYuHdgu5QjebfU14oMkTQUtDseAOS1BInQEMuKFf_pc5lIQG7Lf466h5KRAjIWsR10PUUoCNp9hpsuMRsC00/s1600/DSC06564.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_BPN6DO0jc0CWQfcDHYLy6foVgTCK3IIg1NIsx4BA5OZNq54Nifb_4tNrYuHdgu5QjebfU14oMkTQUtDseAOS1BInQEMuKFf_pc5lIQG7Lf466h5KRAjIWsR10PUUoCNp9hpsuMRsC00/s320/DSC06564.JPG" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div>The end of our self-made walking tour, past a palace Simon Bolivar narrowly escaped assass- ination, was supposed to lead us to the changing of the guard (complete with band!) at the presidential palace, Casa de Narino. The guards didn’t seem to know what was going on, but there was no President Uribe or changing guards--- just a quick lowered of the flag.<br />
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Although the guys at Bellavista nicely built us a new makeshift private room, we had a much better offer.<br />
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Liz and Kim (the Kiwi’s from Bolivia) were in town staying with an American family near Zona T, the area in the north chock full of fancy restaurants, shops, etc. It felt a lot like home with Spanish speakers. <br />
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Graciously Carol and Tim extended an invite for us to stay in their guest room--- what a great way to experience both sides of Bogota, the colonial part and now where real people live (or at least people like us), plus it was fabulous to see Liz and Kim again! Many thanks to Carol and Time!!!!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisyzqTNVhX6yR0gPfHvrMkddn6UoDlUDMJnywPc9PF_g-qABKcm2IqRxP_u9ts0I50HAaMU5B8OB8MgVgh2Lhsi2Q4gsOtIj_xEVhYdAunSFnNX6Ri32sflmtMMWZNzLcHVyEuQtTfvlQ/s1600/DSC06577.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisyzqTNVhX6yR0gPfHvrMkddn6UoDlUDMJnywPc9PF_g-qABKcm2IqRxP_u9ts0I50HAaMU5B8OB8MgVgh2Lhsi2Q4gsOtIj_xEVhYdAunSFnNX6Ri32sflmtMMWZNzLcHVyEuQtTfvlQ/s320/DSC06577.JPG" t8="true" width="239" /></a></div>Carol nicely drove us the 50km north to Zipaquira and the Salt Cathedral. I wasn’t really dying to see more salt, but everyone else was keen so I went along. I'm still not sure what to think of it? It was really odd! 250,000 tons of salt were removed to build an underground complex complete with the Stations of the Cross and a cathedral 190m below ground. Apparently there were originally alters in the salt mines since it is dangerous work, but this seemed more manufactured for tourists. The tour guide did explain a little about salt mining, but what I could understand was all the ways we could die down there- fumes, collapse, etc. <br />
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Since we survived the salt it made sense to celebrate at Bogota’s famous Andres Carne de Res steakhouse. Not healthy, but very tasty and as promised the décor and antics surrounding us were stimulating.<br />
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After much debate we decided on a destination and headed for the bus station. Uh, which station? Lonely Planet claimed there is only one, but our cab driver seemed to know of three. In my terrible Spanish we agreed to go to the closest one. The driver left us in the taxi while he found the right bus and then walked us to a good one that would take us to Tunja, where we would connect to Villa de Leyva. So sweet! Everyone in Colombia is so helpful.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1wZ4ehd-KFr8Q8x_sTW2rJtIY0nwLkybktfmviTptoQoxgpKpTr60tCjhVTLdYR2k323X07ID7TfmZPHhNQUboXDZawvsNNxtNeN7TBCPWO7nosvZj4dPAh01JHUrOdk-ulZ4fijmKRc/s1600/DSC06610.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1wZ4ehd-KFr8Q8x_sTW2rJtIY0nwLkybktfmviTptoQoxgpKpTr60tCjhVTLdYR2k323X07ID7TfmZPHhNQUboXDZawvsNNxtNeN7TBCPWO7nosvZj4dPAh01JHUrOdk-ulZ4fijmKRc/s320/DSC06610.JPG" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div>Villa de Leyva is described as one of the most beautiful colonial villages in Colombia, a “city frozen in time” and a national monument. Like many of the other colonial towns I have seen recently, it is cute with whitewashed buildings and cobblestone streets. The town has long been a relaxing destination for Colombians, starting with the military officers, clergy and nobility of the 1500’s and now the country’s wealthy. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPw_QCIoL-aSRgAY3GC2HVN5dz_9utBEuCS1AVhcOak1xH9i80bu2_qtB1iwx4UIh8pHPUSWSuqWoaNAr0xIQSsospuRoc-mpGHh1sY-XzFzHaWpHZHjhsvfxqyGnRbxHWLb9fy3pdjhg/s1600/DSC06601.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPw_QCIoL-aSRgAY3GC2HVN5dz_9utBEuCS1AVhcOak1xH9i80bu2_qtB1iwx4UIh8pHPUSWSuqWoaNAr0xIQSsospuRoc-mpGHh1sY-XzFzHaWpHZHjhsvfxqyGnRbxHWLb9fy3pdjhg/s320/DSC06601.JPG" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div>Lonely Planet claimed it would be “crammed with day-trippers” on the weekend, but when we arrived on a Friday we found it serene; we even had it practically to ourselves when trapped in Plaza Mayor (one of the largest in the Americas) avoiding the downpour that created rivers in the streets (we should have accepted the Poker beer from the random men on the corner and made a day of it ;-)<br />
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The six colonial museums didn’t interest us much, so we instead opted to shop, eat (best chicken sandwich ever, okay, in a long time), eat (yummy French patisserie), eat (mmm, middle eastern) and take a long bike ride.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv3UqDb8789frCVpO763q5Z_FXPDENvUkTIDAAke4jIgzpQR_TsxXMwM15hghP_9StAYalpWcAy8KIlQaW7LqlcEKPWT7apk6Fj4ba10pHzURiEbUNY-vM3S6MnHPgoqQdYC0R1RUL-08/s1600/DSC06623.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv3UqDb8789frCVpO763q5Z_FXPDENvUkTIDAAke4jIgzpQR_TsxXMwM15hghP_9StAYalpWcAy8KIlQaW7LqlcEKPWT7apk6Fj4ba10pHzURiEbUNY-vM3S6MnHPgoqQdYC0R1RUL-08/s320/DSC06623.JPG" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div>The bike ride started off a little rocky (both literally and figur- atively). We biked up the wrong way for a bit, I was chased by barking dogs nipping at my pedaling feet, and then we seemed to approach the green lagoon by a different route than expected. Green lagoon guy was very concerned about giving us directions, but we again ignored them and went off track a bit at which point I was splattered with mud (there was one slow motion moment where I nearly went head first into a mud pool) and ready to quit.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_lJ1cowdr5AuQx5yo4qHT4_tFLqO8bEiX_my_oaPSRT-wSkc6cW_uWYQsUhyphenhyphenD3mnHNHGXBPKhMP8LIFJSuZDbhU_wHUXTwN-54zUbBIpAv1KPwG_ufiMJuQCr2_XHw2BAPB7wObHtjJg/s1600/DSC06616.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_lJ1cowdr5AuQx5yo4qHT4_tFLqO8bEiX_my_oaPSRT-wSkc6cW_uWYQsUhyphenhyphenD3mnHNHGXBPKhMP8LIFJSuZDbhU_wHUXTwN-54zUbBIpAv1KPwG_ufiMJuQCr2_XHw2BAPB7wObHtjJg/s320/DSC06616.JPG" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div>I am really glad we didn’t quit since it was really pretty once we got on track—it did indeed look a little like Tuscany as Kim and Liz mentioned. I am not sure it was “muy facil” as the bike rental woman said, but it was cool to bike to El Fosil, a 120-million-year-old baby kronosaurus, and El Infiernito, a Muisca observatory we snuck into while they were on lunch break. The countryside is lovely!<br />
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Upon returning to town it was indeed packed, just like Lonely Planet said.<br />
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This is also the town where we first noticed how Colombians buy small bottles of liquor in bars instead of cocktails. I can’t imagine the couple that was served a bottle of tequila, a salt shaker and a plate of sliced lime felt very good the next morning. I bet they didn’t rise early to get the bus to San Gil!</div>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03761254329951728715noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7077756613019007351.post-7553451991838954742011-04-21T21:06:00.041-04:002011-04-21T22:00:05.695-04:00Cuba Libre, Really?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I must admit I was a wee bit nervous heading to the enemy land, Cuba, so I again turned Irish for the occasion. Who doesn't like the Irish?<br />
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It was a day long journey to Havana from Cusco, via Lima and Panama City, not arriving in Havana until nearly midnight. Despite the fact that it was Domingo, when things are usually dead, Havana was hopping (but not for me since I was tired and dirty).<br />
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Havana airport offered interesting sights- everyone smoking, flat screen TV’s coming out on the baggage carousel and sniffing dogs as I waited forever for my bag in the dimly lit baggage area. Then I had the pleasure of losing $50 on my money exchange since they charge an extra 10% on US Dollars--- damn embargo!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmOaXfxREgWZrfUBmF-B3Qe0BN4ezHsoOby120TxqSxnqdiiQKiWo6TpqBumQUVWeC_qmxpA8HvOtlDS8H4C0CI-54nBcwtpN8RnDxNbjNc7999Nelip7TSlWeIY194sljzH07xt-RXz8/s1600/DSC06210.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmOaXfxREgWZrfUBmF-B3Qe0BN4ezHsoOby120TxqSxnqdiiQKiWo6TpqBumQUVWeC_qmxpA8HvOtlDS8H4C0CI-54nBcwtpN8RnDxNbjNc7999Nelip7TSlWeIY194sljzH07xt-RXz8/s320/DSC06210.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>The next morning I met everyone on the Cuban Adventures tour and our local guide, Yoxander, for our drive west to Vinales (pop. 10,000), a small farming village with limestone pincushion hills (<em>mogotes</em>)-- this is tobacco country and one of the most agriculturally productive areas in the country. After a yummy $1.20 grilled cheese sandwich we went on a tour of the colorful village (which color would I paint my casa?). <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPYIlCM_fmyMuTztw32_pl0gD9O8G2f_kSFjwCkRgNJpSfoDDWlxXnrW9rD-vPuRjwx4j8JNr_W_KXjzIKN362zlCw6dNQbh2PSq4SMkcQZagxcshL9-sFdm9qgYofck2j2LDS_gU86NU/s1600/DSC06232.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPYIlCM_fmyMuTztw32_pl0gD9O8G2f_kSFjwCkRgNJpSfoDDWlxXnrW9rD-vPuRjwx4j8JNr_W_KXjzIKN362zlCw6dNQbh2PSq4SMkcQZagxcshL9-sFdm9qgYofck2j2LDS_gU86NU/s320/DSC06232.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>The first stop was a tobacco plantation where we saw and smelled freshly picked leaves drying, in addition to coffee growing. The owner brewed us some of their strong coffee and showed us how to roll (and smoke) cigars. First puff of a cigar, not terrible but I didn’t really see the point. <br />
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The tour then turned more into a hike through pineapple fields (the farmer cut up a huge bowl for me and it was SO delicious, even if I didn't need an entire one), up a hill, through a cave and down the other side. Yoxander really should have mentioned that a skirt and flip flops were not so suitable.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq_NTJ2cSayNM9-49JJ5nlWLZsNPOp3f0PTKE16_z78zcfcH48fNhmWEIxjbq4joBtisWtWFnmI6kAlFeL65Ce-H11UREI2PjBqfLPGOoGmkhWeh7KOmkuV_9bB6KnB32p58Y0rRtKRPI/s1600/DSC06322.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq_NTJ2cSayNM9-49JJ5nlWLZsNPOp3f0PTKE16_z78zcfcH48fNhmWEIxjbq4joBtisWtWFnmI6kAlFeL65Ce-H11UREI2PjBqfLPGOoGmkhWeh7KOmkuV_9bB6KnB32p58Y0rRtKRPI/s320/DSC06322.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Now that we were in Vinales we would be staying with local families and also eating some meals there. This is a way for the locals to make some money, but also a way to provide rooms for tourists since there are not enough hotels. Mirta was a lovely host and I slept so well here I considered staying longer. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKlNNJLxFEP3wQhcBgtstJ37-KPtliQh4pU7GeX-NKiyYK50D35S234eyvpw8CjK6LvxapvQXiXlKubg50PLR8MAj4xLScof8MgYbiD4ooy7o9GJfJJjPsbn8B6eTA7o_Vo41FpOKeTCE/s1600/DSC06269.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKlNNJLxFEP3wQhcBgtstJ37-KPtliQh4pU7GeX-NKiyYK50D35S234eyvpw8CjK6LvxapvQXiXlKubg50PLR8MAj4xLScof8MgYbiD4ooy7o9GJfJJjPsbn8B6eTA7o_Vo41FpOKeTCE/s320/DSC06269.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">We then <em>had</em> to experience the local music scene and the first of many mojitos--- a sort of cabaret show with a band (and sexy keyboard player in a playboy bunny wife beater- eck!), dancers in fabulous (and ill fitting) costumes, and my favorite, the soloist with the male dancer performing around her to be followed by a French tourist singing along. Priceless!</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY6JASquV5RAk5sscwPE8ncjcd7V3Mv0yXy6HWuP4CEP9JSmyWJ-nBFTFB0wOlri2IQWiQirYd7kxMamA33eoVxEvTL6gHTzonPVTDMFCTOoqw-DaLJq_fSGUIk0ODNdgiqocCfu4s8SI/s1600/DSC06281.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: right; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY6JASquV5RAk5sscwPE8ncjcd7V3Mv0yXy6HWuP4CEP9JSmyWJ-nBFTFB0wOlri2IQWiQirYd7kxMamA33eoVxEvTL6gHTzonPVTDMFCTOoqw-DaLJq_fSGUIk0ODNdgiqocCfu4s8SI/s320/DSC06281.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>I know by now that I am not into caves, but the group decided to check out Cuevas del Indio so I went along and was fairly unim- pressed. Good thing we stopped by the bazaar Mural de Prehistoria painted on a cliff face (200ft. high X 300ft. long and commissioned by Castro in 1961)- it was so odd I was delighted (Laura would like this!). <br />
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Yoxander brought us to a scenic lookout where in addition to the spectacular view of the mogotes we spotted a swimming pool. Somehow we then crashed a fancy hotel’s swimming pool with lots of poolside (and in pool) mojitos.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZkEgjMQsinPiuxH33TddhUFv3mmUx4A9JvcZ2aaBEQUPTWgrKpy6lPUp9myqxBeBOV6NC7pEcAWsL1jJbU4zF1BFOICn3gmCqL1dScGa2fqTq8djcrrYXb5NwFU14eiFLFIA2iMtBvns/s1600/DSC06311.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZkEgjMQsinPiuxH33TddhUFv3mmUx4A9JvcZ2aaBEQUPTWgrKpy6lPUp9myqxBeBOV6NC7pEcAWsL1jJbU4zF1BFOICn3gmCqL1dScGa2fqTq8djcrrYXb5NwFU14eiFLFIA2iMtBvns/s320/DSC06311.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Refreshed it was time for the pig roast at one of Yoxander’s friend’s places. I was excited to play dominoes, the national past time, but it really isn’t that fun. A lot of Havana Club rum, some picking at the roasting pig and card games made for an enjoyable afternoon. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEwJGVLlY0jYUNUrb04W3tOQfjfZojGbHaeT_Uu5ieLcgkpGBg7Z9IyfwYr5HdhCUQ5wDoYo2yaKyuUmYuZyD3ezXvYoL0e3vnOW1MUchpWMkDvleQTFSUwud0Zd-LTgjDUefs7suQYiE/s1600/DSC06314.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: right; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEwJGVLlY0jYUNUrb04W3tOQfjfZojGbHaeT_Uu5ieLcgkpGBg7Z9IyfwYr5HdhCUQ5wDoYo2yaKyuUmYuZyD3ezXvYoL0e3vnOW1MUchpWMkDvleQTFSUwud0Zd-LTgjDUefs7suQYiE/s320/DSC06314.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>A few of the local guys joined us for a game and were hilarious in their enthu- siasm. We are now concerned that they are going to abandon dominoes in favor of a stupid drinking game.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8sf2YJu0Rs9LE5TVhcfrLYR276dmDR3mWfZsSRMF9LnmS20pSMYI2GFsxh-HgqxvFKgsPvEamRvXE04Te6mYTPi874GbtcgEO9y8BzIfDNFpBwAMxBaupsWMnUsM-6jazSRTgpNV3GJ8/s1600/DSC06344.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8sf2YJu0Rs9LE5TVhcfrLYR276dmDR3mWfZsSRMF9LnmS20pSMYI2GFsxh-HgqxvFKgsPvEamRvXE04Te6mYTPi874GbtcgEO9y8BzIfDNFpBwAMxBaupsWMnUsM-6jazSRTgpNV3GJ8/s320/DSC06344.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>Unfortunately the next day it was a long, 7-hour drive east to Santa Clara (pop. 175,000), a key city in the Cuban Revolution. I will dub it Che-ville since there is a huge Soviet-esque monument of Che with a museum underneath. There is Che <u>everywhere</u> in Cuba, but this is the territory he controlled during the revolution and the site of a successful attack on a train transporting troop reinforcements and US armaments to the east. Within days they captured the city, Batista fled the country and everything changed.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigDmvEFFGHtCGJWaSQxSaFz_DcCyVSdp55_obbcOjhglvs_ywV2IkMQjO9PxIu-OjFkewAUEczYQ2T-k8_JArH7oAm2jcVFQRnZpjvtCJNQLZuXr0hrMIev2NLujjYB_dmeRFYVmBYZhA/s1600/DSC06325.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: right; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigDmvEFFGHtCGJWaSQxSaFz_DcCyVSdp55_obbcOjhglvs_ywV2IkMQjO9PxIu-OjFkewAUEczYQ2T-k8_JArH7oAm2jcVFQRnZpjvtCJNQLZuXr0hrMIev2NLujjYB_dmeRFYVmBYZhA/s320/DSC06325.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>On the way to Santa Clara we had the pleasure of meeting Jennifer and Jessica (“the skinnier one”), 9-month old twins, and their grandparents who were waiting on the side of the road on route to Havana. Locals basically have to rely on occasional buses and hitchhiking to get from a to b. We bypassed a ton of people, but how can you not stop for babies all dressed up in fancy dresses and lacy socks. Before I knew it a baby was plopped down on my lap--- they were pretty cute.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUmLDPb0E4aAOOMeLeT6OLm4vJb6Em0YsBjVyFX-0NJQKFkVvwMAGrGWrPvph6KWVu-ELriWmR1sLj-L42BmX6Z-aiOnizNJh0-t3n1H6AAV9dfBz7emJ_qe-JHkUs-lswFlvDmn3B6dQ/s1600/DSC06327.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUmLDPb0E4aAOOMeLeT6OLm4vJb6Em0YsBjVyFX-0NJQKFkVvwMAGrGWrPvph6KWVu-ELriWmR1sLj-L42BmX6Z-aiOnizNJh0-t3n1H6AAV9dfBz7emJ_qe-JHkUs-lswFlvDmn3B6dQ/s320/DSC06327.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Although not my favorite, Santa Clara was an interesting glimpse into real Cuban city life, since it is not a big tourist desti- nation. For instance, walking down the street and seeing pig heads out of the corner of your eye. There is so much pork in this country-- amazingly you could get a full roast pork meal with rice and salad for $1.50!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH5S3So9xS_S15HH7YD1sHGBON0VVG6pKgzGK1C1e_l1m5S9pGWKEE1ixq7aE03ehRo4q8Rml8bxhe89vtZuKsLM1l6ayhyZZTPR2JjLq9touC4pebeBri2GxZDfTX6Id-gUtEUjoYDnc/s1600/DSC06331.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: right; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH5S3So9xS_S15HH7YD1sHGBON0VVG6pKgzGK1C1e_l1m5S9pGWKEE1ixq7aE03ehRo4q8Rml8bxhe89vtZuKsLM1l6ayhyZZTPR2JjLq9touC4pebeBri2GxZDfTX6Id-gUtEUjoYDnc/s320/DSC06331.JPG" width="239" /></a>Better yet, $0.10! The cost of attending the playoff baseball game in Santa Clara. <br />
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I befriended 9-year old Brian, who would only take peanuts from us, while waiting for someone to score and explaining the game to the Brits and Czechs. I am still disappointed they don't have mascots here and forget about any hot dog race around the bases. Just pure, old school baseball.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpW7G-Yq5eIlzUviZQw1OGnAxKxGt4WAGgjaME7I_64vQtg1jwZhtK9wQjk7AyfIcurpbT5yOwhBqRayBHSaWkf1EpFdAWEjVKbsiFXbAdcEwRoEgCNSxfaPE9hBxNCFIQI-Ws0V0_Q8E/s1600/DSC06335.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpW7G-Yq5eIlzUviZQw1OGnAxKxGt4WAGgjaME7I_64vQtg1jwZhtK9wQjk7AyfIcurpbT5yOwhBqRayBHSaWkf1EpFdAWEjVKbsiFXbAdcEwRoEgCNSxfaPE9hBxNCFIQI-Ws0V0_Q8E/s320/DSC06335.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">When Santa Clara finally took the lead the crowd went crazy and we decided to leave since they don’t sell any cervesa or crappy food like at home. You will be happy to know that Santa Clara won!</div><br />
It was good to have some fun as we had just left a super awkward situation with our very large breasted host Luisa (they were <em>really</em> on display, otherwise there would be no reason to mention). We basically moved out after she insulted Danielle for being vegetarian and didn’t exactly have the appropriate accommodation (I was sleeping in her bed, it seemed). Our new host Rolando was a big upgrade!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>After the game we enjoyed some Pina Coladas, Daiquiris and really good music in Parque Vidal, where they have a double-wide sidewalk that once kept whites and blacks apart (now there is no racism-- everyone really is equal). I was surprised to see the occasional cross dresser walk by. Go figure!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXujg-0n08uIIIRqOZXk-12ZQXMHZh3ruOxjHEu2tV7Rs87PDJTqa1X81kG6-btKAiOKpsOeRV0pxOYxVg0JjT7QMe3E7z_hdPlzSIHmjz9wYYSiNQE7crdmL3mdc9IauptuMYYsodXBw/s1600/DSC06359.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXujg-0n08uIIIRqOZXk-12ZQXMHZh3ruOxjHEu2tV7Rs87PDJTqa1X81kG6-btKAiOKpsOeRV0pxOYxVg0JjT7QMe3E7z_hdPlzSIHmjz9wYYSiNQE7crdmL3mdc9IauptuMYYsodXBw/s320/DSC06359.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>Of course we couldn’t leave without visiting the Monumento Ernesto Che Guevara and museum, which was really just a bunch of stuff he may have touched at one point (and I got shushed just like at waxy Lenin). <br />
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A quick drive by Tren Blindado, the blown up train, and it was off to Trinidad through a bumpy Sierra del Escambray mountain road. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8QuZLvhsLWLfbLnYaAz05z1BCyMqnGKPdvc348DqFyUJrSSImRL_x3UnFOouCdSGA9EP-iqgQL8ytt3OmXYA4mUvkOYg2QCvrs3_gKGA1JooO7HptrKQLrALW4HJuqg05tLJ9fGxvfm0/s1600/DSC06382.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8QuZLvhsLWLfbLnYaAz05z1BCyMqnGKPdvc348DqFyUJrSSImRL_x3UnFOouCdSGA9EP-iqgQL8ytt3OmXYA4mUvkOYg2QCvrs3_gKGA1JooO7HptrKQLrALW4HJuqg05tLJ9fGxvfm0/s320/DSC06382.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Trinidad (pop. 38,000) has quite a history. Originally founded by Diego Velázquez in 1514, it is a beautiful colonial town and formerly the producer of a third of Cuba's sugar. It was once very wealthy, as you can envision from the once grand mansions, due to the sugar that was introduced by French refugees fleeing a slave revolt in Haiti in the 1800's. Unfortunately they also imported slaves from Jamaica to work those sugar plantations.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfY86Kajh4vB3aLxdfrRVrjASiUmVJEGWmaWzIwh7wLVOUO2Hsc3gCCPtpgAOudst7WTfGJCJDyiv5IG1_PStvfvHFtI7OkZXXq6Xjz9bcL-uCKqOnyzRB0ssehGbbGd1J1gE9VJ0HzFs/s1600/DSC06371.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfY86Kajh4vB3aLxdfrRVrjASiUmVJEGWmaWzIwh7wLVOUO2Hsc3gCCPtpgAOudst7WTfGJCJDyiv5IG1_PStvfvHFtI7OkZXXq6Xjz9bcL-uCKqOnyzRB0ssehGbbGd1J1gE9VJ0HzFs/s320/DSC06371.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Jesus’ home and hospitality was perfect (I love the beautiful floor tiles in Cuban homes), as was Yoxander's walking tour before lunch of an absolutely enormous $10 lobster (after I sent back the dodgy shrimp). </div><br />
The handicraft market around the Plaza Mayor had plenty of domino sets and stuff with Cuba written on it-- apparently you could buy anything since Danielle as offered a “side partner.” <br />
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When Jesus offered crab for dinner I was so excited, but the preparation was so odd-- chopped up with all the shells made it a bit of a challenge (later I had my suspicious why). <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii2uY_du2CxQUAxmPuBiSIUD29MaLk5O4DD0RLVTE47a1Uek0cR0fpq3T6G0T6fHpY4Hgf9Z3BxG3Nyel2ngS5zQx0-oFLA1auu-dEdGWQAd2NN5db7G6QmwQxZuNkyA6IuJE9moDaN2I/s1600/DSC06405.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii2uY_du2CxQUAxmPuBiSIUD29MaLk5O4DD0RLVTE47a1Uek0cR0fpq3T6G0T6fHpY4Hgf9Z3BxG3Nyel2ngS5zQx0-oFLA1auu-dEdGWQAd2NN5db7G6QmwQxZuNkyA6IuJE9moDaN2I/s320/DSC06405.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Trinidad has tons of live music venues, but it seems everyone starts the evening with a visit to The Steps. The name pretty much says it all--- a long flight of steps that people sit on while watching a band and dance troupes (the guys in bubble gum pink were my fav!). Some people dance along but I found that way too intimidating since 1) Cubans can <em>really</em> dance and 2) you basically have spectators, including my favorite Cuban sporting the ‘Proud to be an American' t-shirt. Instead I opted to watch as well while sampling a few more mojitos—I am conducting an informal taste test of Cuba’s mojitos. :-)<br />
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After The Steps the tourist ‘must do’ is Disco Ayala, aka The Cave. It is a full on disco inside a real cave, complete with disco lights, DJ booth, bar, banos--- everything you would find in a normal club. It was a late night dancing to a lot of reggaeton, mixed in with an occasional Black Eyed Peas, Shakira or something familiar. After months in South America a lot is now familiar and I have all sorts of favorite Latin tunes.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0VQtwx_hWa5oSc0hK7l8Nhs9B8yySDfujaXbc80H7ETBZ3bhaa8sJpTfhMXE1bgo6tUDkI5FLZxkr7lcamXqnU6Vjtmg07kHM8XwqLr7AZMVHPfDhof4AVvX4Qt1SFWc60ldWu3axt14/s1600/DSC06409.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0VQtwx_hWa5oSc0hK7l8Nhs9B8yySDfujaXbc80H7ETBZ3bhaa8sJpTfhMXE1bgo6tUDkI5FLZxkr7lcamXqnU6Vjtmg07kHM8XwqLr7AZMVHPfDhof4AVvX4Qt1SFWc60ldWu3axt14/s320/DSC06409.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>Since we were up until 3am, it is no surprise the next day was pretty lazy, with a late breakfast and trip to the money changer and Internet cafe. <br />
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We popped by a special needs school so the nice Canadian school teachers, Stephanie and Sandra, could donate some supplies they brought along—the kids were adorable and since we arrived at lunchtime it didn’t cause too much of a disruption. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicsKoT7cqpyLoCatpdfUb9yF9ly80TCEROr_OVOW_3LFdqmmexHdXVPD7qnOvneuOGG5pfuO2r6pOuDpoMnmA8FtVJJ0cf-QA4XZd_dlrbkDxaixydFX7BHoFEMJB0vWxEdWSC63WXl9g/s1600/DSC06419.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicsKoT7cqpyLoCatpdfUb9yF9ly80TCEROr_OVOW_3LFdqmmexHdXVPD7qnOvneuOGG5pfuO2r6pOuDpoMnmA8FtVJJ0cf-QA4XZd_dlrbkDxaixydFX7BHoFEMJB0vWxEdWSC63WXl9g/s320/DSC06419.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>To Playa Ancon in a robin’s egg blue vintage Chevy--- these old cars are SO spacious (they have converted them to diesel)! Hours lounging under an umbrella and hanging with Merhdad in the water proved quite relaxing. A red ’57 Chevy back to town capped off the afternoon.<br />
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That evening we learned that YoYo (Yoxander, who is married to an Australian he met on a previous tour) was granted temporary permission to move to Australia—you can imagine how excited he was. Hopefully he can now get permission from the Cuban government to leave. I really hope it all works out for him—after traveling for a year it is hard to fathom never having been off this island.<br />
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Celebration was in order! No time to mess around, just give me some dark rum on the rocks (I couldn’t take any more sweet mojitos). Since last night was so much fun it seemed fitting to do it again---- The Steps and The Cave with Stephanie, Yoxander and Merhdad until 3am. It was a great night!<br />
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The only problem was that we had to get up early for the trip back to Havana, stopping at French founded Cienfuegos on the way where a guy told me he hates America (he didn’t know I was American). The city is known as 'the pearl of the south' and is quite pretty.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhahaW5Q74jyuim6u09tNjs7xK8NNjCh6sX71ZkPB8ZnD1d2wipkQNnnOTWdwdsDRtKMVv2qBGMRCun0wKlVSUkMZrUsTZQd7zuC21O8pWFMfF2YNfkKtZGz1kl_OAmQMser9EVLZDs_6M/s1600/DSC06426.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhahaW5Q74jyuim6u09tNjs7xK8NNjCh6sX71ZkPB8ZnD1d2wipkQNnnOTWdwdsDRtKMVv2qBGMRCun0wKlVSUkMZrUsTZQd7zuC21O8pWFMfF2YNfkKtZGz1kl_OAmQMser9EVLZDs_6M/s320/DSC06426.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>On the way there we killed zillions of crabs (hmmm, dinner the other night?). Yes, you think I exaggerate, but really it was kilometer after kilometer of road completely covered with them! You could hear and feel the crunching under the tires since we had to drive slowly to avoid a flat tire. It was SO gross and really disturbed my nap.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwCWS1tAmF8EbgArb9-McRtwTZgl5qFHPNbUfktX2rU3kTCRMRjHMVm6uCEOL4pS63RhA5RIk6IRJ8khyphenhyphenTLzOZR-qmrDrxbMAKl5pQBHiafIhfK_XVHIxTjeZINcpIjg2DPACDzDxp5EE/s1600/DSC06444.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwCWS1tAmF8EbgArb9-McRtwTZgl5qFHPNbUfktX2rU3kTCRMRjHMVm6uCEOL4pS63RhA5RIk6IRJ8khyphenhyphenTLzOZR-qmrDrxbMAKl5pQBHiafIhfK_XVHIxTjeZINcpIjg2DPACDzDxp5EE/s320/DSC06444.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>We also stopped by the Bay of Pigs for some anti-Yankee and “flunkies” propaganda (literally the words used in the museum material). It was a little awkward and reminded me of the feeling I had at the tunnels in Vietnam. I guess they have their side of the story too. From then on I only wanted to be referred to as 'the Yankee' (I was the only one).<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGXboAoYbHTtVXXX0VxiIkfn9JGRQsixeCaJZKiEWz8omWaH5NkMB7A1xs0TXAB8VLKcBrLAE5qR0XmAofTuX4fgG4BbMaerzzet_KFgTy7Avlw7voSv7riIU6urmLT_EzVRPViP4psnk/s1600/DSC06454.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGXboAoYbHTtVXXX0VxiIkfn9JGRQsixeCaJZKiEWz8omWaH5NkMB7A1xs0TXAB8VLKcBrLAE5qR0XmAofTuX4fgG4BbMaerzzet_KFgTy7Avlw7voSv7riIU6urmLT_EzVRPViP4psnk/s320/DSC06454.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>I did enjoy the snorkeling afterwards since there were tons of fish thanks to the nice Cuban man feeding bread to attract them (his parents live in the US, so he was quite happy to meet me and wanted a photo together). <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeVCLj5tXJ5UMDI4BRf50nPRF5-gDGWegZvqvL-m-oEiN1l80MI5F45CLOOlUfuay78YfkQtTG0zTKgyDj1iov6iI9urKBlat1S-LkQX5hbUfrW8XOLtqZsAhCdUlI5MHn87e_nPiSKPs/s1600/DSC06486.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeVCLj5tXJ5UMDI4BRf50nPRF5-gDGWegZvqvL-m-oEiN1l80MI5F45CLOOlUfuay78YfkQtTG0zTKgyDj1iov6iI9urKBlat1S-LkQX5hbUfrW8XOLtqZsAhCdUlI5MHn87e_nPiSKPs/s320/DSC06486.JPG" width="240" /></a>Back to Havana (pop. 2.2 million). As a total bonus at the end of the tour, we were upgraded to the historic Hotel Nacional (modeled on The Breakers in Palm Beach) which is pretty cool even if the rooms are a bit dated. It is also an excellent place to sample yet another mojito on the patio before heading out for our farewell dinner. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div>I missed it the first night, but the Cuban thing to do is BYOB to El Malecon, the waterfront area where <u>everyone</u> (young and old) hangs out, chats and listens to roaming musicians. At $3 for a <strong>bottle</strong> of rum, what a bargain! I loved!!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ0gQ1yWbRqIX_QeXjvxr1tlrkunqEeC_tWOizMOfRSpzylF4lGJDVru92__JelusFTyoNR5o7bwxJC6zY5h26NLtbFeyiHcrEfvNzXvFQPL6-G41SNFPg0aIby-3nmiC6svPmWgVCLw8/s1600/DSC06525.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: right; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ0gQ1yWbRqIX_QeXjvxr1tlrkunqEeC_tWOizMOfRSpzylF4lGJDVru92__JelusFTyoNR5o7bwxJC6zY5h26NLtbFeyiHcrEfvNzXvFQPL6-G41SNFPg0aIby-3nmiC6svPmWgVCLw8/s320/DSC06525.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>I was really sad to see all my new friends leave after breakfast, but thankfully the Aussies, Kristie and Danielle, had a late flight and were game to check out Old Havana, yet another UNESCO heritage site. It is charming- a restored area in the midst of a crumbling city.<br />
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After the market, Danielle getting mobbed by kids and a visit to the Princess Diana garden (why?), it basically turned into a tour of beverages, or places where Hemingway consumed beverages: chocolate milk, daiquiri, mojito and pina colada. <br />
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The end of our tour took us past El Capitolio, a building that once housed the House of Government and ironically was modeled after the US Capitol- weird!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXUneSn7QQ6csmA2h80q_qMSbsB4KMcj65vdgAVCUqepouTPM8MR_8QdTRDpuI2Bdx9Qb9ttHAttluAMTa-2d40G6_WbySG7FhoPL0Fa6fiR_TlorBflw2Axj3TBsLfst8W8AePc1tWz8/s1600/DSC06542.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXUneSn7QQ6csmA2h80q_qMSbsB4KMcj65vdgAVCUqepouTPM8MR_8QdTRDpuI2Bdx9Qb9ttHAttluAMTa-2d40G6_WbySG7FhoPL0Fa6fiR_TlorBflw2Axj3TBsLfst8W8AePc1tWz8/s320/DSC06542.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>Once everyone left I totally crashed--- god it was so good to finally sleep. I slept and slept and slept some more and eventually rose the next morning with nothing much to do. Of course I <em>had</em> to check out Plaza de la Dignidad and the Elian Gonzales statue pointing it's finger at the US Special Interests Building- excellent! <br />
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Speaking of US policy, I had such an impression of what life would be like in Cuba- it wasn't exactly accurate. It is not like the former Soviet Union countries--- these people smile!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwyo95Gl3ny0DtEDr4LdEk0wmP2oxtpgFUa67Qx8Y2lqNXlOSJkRwjGRVjkBnC-5-WOIqmLKNLSoWvdhjot7sEmaC9Iggp3zP38BZTYg2yjjaHuetWkyobq5aD9yopI-8o4RPM-Rv4Au0/s1600/DSC06388.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: right; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwyo95Gl3ny0DtEDr4LdEk0wmP2oxtpgFUa67Qx8Y2lqNXlOSJkRwjGRVjkBnC-5-WOIqmLKNLSoWvdhjot7sEmaC9Iggp3zP38BZTYg2yjjaHuetWkyobq5aD9yopI-8o4RPM-Rv4Au0/s320/DSC06388.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Sure, the buildings are in disrepair and they don’t have the latest cars, the average monthly salary is between $10-20 and a taxi driver or tour guide earns more than a doctor. Not like home, but not so bad. Overall I actually found it to be incredibly pleasant. <br />
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The people are lovely, generous, spirited and generally seem happy. Life is slow and I am sure not easy, but they seem to make it work. There is music <strong>everywhere</strong> and people dancing every night just enjoying life.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSXu8LMp9MMK8biT5lDRuQHqm-t_p1tFrRK42AsOOrwws44SncrYKQUA2kOu_BlRc4heYsmKWcI80tseVC6834yE2coXpXnJm6UPuXE3eIPAF33-qUi0OsgyspLUt4dGpMMlhYlEk-hRQ/s1600/DSC06508.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSXu8LMp9MMK8biT5lDRuQHqm-t_p1tFrRK42AsOOrwws44SncrYKQUA2kOu_BlRc4heYsmKWcI80tseVC6834yE2coXpXnJm6UPuXE3eIPAF33-qUi0OsgyspLUt4dGpMMlhYlEk-hRQ/s320/DSC06508.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I wanted to visit Cuba before the US changes our policy and we mess with the country, but the Cubans explained that even if that were to happen it wouldn’t change Cuba's policy-- interestingly, they don't see things changing any time soon. </div><br />
<strong>I</strong> certainly wouldn’t want to live in a place I wasn’t free to leave, with tight government control and restrictions, where I was forced to <em>find</em> ways to cover basic expenses (la lucha--- the daily struggle). We heard it described as "the land where nothing is allowed and everything is possible." <br />
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I am not sure how they have kept the locals, who are fairly well educated and aware of the realities outside Cuba, so content. When the USSR 'abandoned' them (the period known as the "Special Period") they had to open the country to tourism as a solution to the economic crisis--- how can seeing tourists driving in nice buses as they wait on the side of the road not breed resentment? Sure, they have a system (and currency) to keep us separate so we don't corrupt the socialist ideals, but I would think our mere presence would have that result. Is it really better to keep everyone poor versus having classes? <br />
I guess like everyone I left a little more confused, but also with a big smile and so many good memories.</div>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03761254329951728715noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7077756613019007351.post-90428436299354229072011-04-18T13:48:00.000-04:002011-04-18T13:48:48.236-04:00Peru Pt. 3- Inca-riffic!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0CGzrtWIJcDZq67ex1SNxfqKtyoNLduyQyoxyZ7g0I3zB-3XBnTOmhCS3T7wPCzG9yko8plPKYj9_9SQemYGUSBfu_VTOeWeqRhqp6eiNDuR-O4VelyxQJHzyKUvvWFPR4cOHVHWE-PY/s1600/DSC05883.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0CGzrtWIJcDZq67ex1SNxfqKtyoNLduyQyoxyZ7g0I3zB-3XBnTOmhCS3T7wPCzG9yko8plPKYj9_9SQemYGUSBfu_VTOeWeqRhqp6eiNDuR-O4VelyxQJHzyKUvvWFPR4cOHVHWE-PY/s320/DSC05883.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Off to Cusco, the center of the Incan empire/the "navel of the earth", and the continents oldest conti- nuously inhabited city. Good reason, it is super charming! <br />
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It must have been quite a sight back in the day when it was nearly covered in gold, but that was all plundered by Pizarro and the Spanish conquistadors.<br />
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Before leaving on my trek to Machu Picchu I had to take care of a few errands and plan the rest of my trip, which is rapidly coming to an end.<br />
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In the evening I took a stroll around the beautiful town, walking to the Plaza de Armas which was full of activity as the lights lit up the churches, colonial buildings and surrounding hills. It really is a perfect little town.<br />
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The evening was capped off with a lovely chat with Alejandro, a lovely Bolivian bartender at The Lost City, who made me yummy popcorn and a hamburger (which I haven't had in ages!). No surprise I ended up staying way longer than anticipated.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSo1rRA5U3Eb-twJOdOVvn4BEmFSg5VPajLdPfucnB3F1L0WMOvj79EqMqcCQDIHkfdv7Ux6m8KXvqMgKTWOTMWOkLxjbOu6RH1E2BdU_wjJjBrfgyoW2zOyU51XfrfdeqrtijgEAeTJk/s1600/DSC05896.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: left; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSo1rRA5U3Eb-twJOdOVvn4BEmFSg5VPajLdPfucnB3F1L0WMOvj79EqMqcCQDIHkfdv7Ux6m8KXvqMgKTWOTMWOkLxjbOu6RH1E2BdU_wjJjBrfgyoW2zOyU51XfrfdeqrtijgEAeTJk/s320/DSC05896.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>I had a couple of days before leaving on the Inca Trail to explore town and acclimatize (Cusco is at 3326m) since I lost it after being at sea level for weeks. <br />
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I headed out for an abridged walking tour of Cusco, starting at Mercado San Pedro which was pretty quiet given it was a Domingo. For once Domingo (Sunday) worked out--- all those churches that are normally closed or charge admission are free when you sneak in during services (and there are a lot of them)!<br />
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Randomly outside the market I met Richard from Lancaster, PA who is embarking on a round-the-world trip. He ended up joining me for the pseudo tour along the cobble stone streets and alleys (originally made for llama traffic), stopping at the plazas and churches, including the Cathedral and the Jesuit's Inglesia de La Compania de Jesus where we had a private tour by someone with a Russian name (he pointed it out as odd).<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjryRncRTXcMrAklurw1_cfttMb_XgdOzDlYpx96rRBqmdretEPvAVnSKGRSN63gZF0ztSwxcfg_88RDrXR9Z7KxgrD6V1lIy6XVYvetVW24MsPyDBu9P4U0Nz1aSP8VLimfrur9d5gJ9k/s1600/DSC05915.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjryRncRTXcMrAklurw1_cfttMb_XgdOzDlYpx96rRBqmdretEPvAVnSKGRSN63gZF0ztSwxcfg_88RDrXR9Z7KxgrD6V1lIy6XVYvetVW24MsPyDBu9P4U0Nz1aSP8VLimfrur9d5gJ9k/s320/DSC05915.JPG" width="320" /></a>Oddly, we thought we were entering that church, but instead ended up on the <u>edge</u> of a building overlooking the square- this can not possibly be sanctioned by any authority! It was cool-- a good bird's eye view of the Plaza de Armas.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The Cathedral, started in 1559 on the site of Viracocha Inca's palace using stones pilfered from nearby Sacsaywaman, dominates the square. Oddly the Cathedral is joined to two smaller churches on either side; Inglesia del Triunfo to the right is reportedly Cusco's oldest.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Seriously this city has a church on every corner--- why did the Jesuits, Dominicans, La Merced and Franciscans all need their own places?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Since yet another star gazing tour was cancelled, I was able to enjoy some tapas at Cicciolina with Richard-- I really think I may be able to get out of Cusco without eating any more rice- yay! :-) </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVM725uviBTgl5PWmz_V9A1TQd2KbiuwG1_u0aVg_gi9TO1fhEHqTVBSJWCZCTH6coYBpTh3Nh166NNUhP0Je-vNxRBMICnSgSLrIAveZ_HZxZpKkia53NwEW4scblp8dPXwDs5RV9RT8/s1600/DSC05926.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: left; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVM725uviBTgl5PWmz_V9A1TQd2KbiuwG1_u0aVg_gi9TO1fhEHqTVBSJWCZCTH6coYBpTh3Nh166NNUhP0Je-vNxRBMICnSgSLrIAveZ_HZxZpKkia53NwEW4scblp8dPXwDs5RV9RT8/s320/DSC05926.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>On the way there I couldn't help holding the baby alpaca the local woman shoved in my arms-- the locals here are certainly enter- prising. One boy chatted me up on the Cathedral steps and I was so excited I could converse with him in Spanish and answer his question of "what is my favorite animal." I am now the proud owner of a penguin finger puppet (penguins aren't even my favorite, I just knew how to say it in Spanish!)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjFPqWBd6xcv237FLXmpqYu4mLyPY1vgZIoNnyzotUBDIiCiT-asiVOgg1O47qc6Th5sqYCMfoLjn8CYmBbS9c0JV-5dtvQXkJHF6Onc7ZbL2lnh3jmgIXOrX3fx_7FN5F2w_cokh_sso/s1600/DSC05927.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjFPqWBd6xcv237FLXmpqYu4mLyPY1vgZIoNnyzotUBDIiCiT-asiVOgg1O47qc6Th5sqYCMfoLjn8CYmBbS9c0JV-5dtvQXkJHF6Onc7ZbL2lnh3jmgIXOrX3fx_7FN5F2w_cokh_sso/s320/DSC05927.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>We also happened upon Qorikancha by the light of the full moon. These Inca ruins now form the base of Ingesia de Santo Domingo, but were once the richest temple in the empire--- covered in 700 solid-gold sheets, each weighing 2kg. Plus there were gold statues, alters, etc. Again, damn Spaniards--- within <strong>months</strong> the temple had been looted and all the gold melted down.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrUUDRHNYKmQ3Pw1wdyJH1dZVoPjWT79bOtaEzaSii7jBcGATPQMeMYgReA26D_8A0Ye8PU8HrFQA5Hdj1fnbfj1wNbwG52RgW4mjvXRNP5_aoBkWKqqciSIkfIrWUK-n0oE-TrhQRq9U/s1600/DSC05944.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: left; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrUUDRHNYKmQ3Pw1wdyJH1dZVoPjWT79bOtaEzaSii7jBcGATPQMeMYgReA26D_8A0Ye8PU8HrFQA5Hdj1fnbfj1wNbwG52RgW4mjvXRNP5_aoBkWKqqciSIkfIrWUK-n0oE-TrhQRq9U/s320/DSC05944.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">A new Cocho Museum just opened and offers chocolate making class, so why not- I will need snacks for my trek. Oddly an American girl from Vermont was the instructor and explained how and where the bean grows, had us roasting, peeling, crushing and finally creating our yummy concoctions with all sorts of add ins (next time less of the spicy chilies).</div><br />
Randomly afterwards I ran into the Aussies from Pichilemu, Val and Ryan, and had lunch at a charity restaurant whose menus are storybooks and chairs occupied by stuffed animals (sounds cheesy, but was actually kinda cute and could be a big hit in Brooklyn!). Instead of finishing my walking tour and wandering around San Blas I spent the rest of the day watching rugby. <br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZO0Zf6eKUuzAMl2LMh2uaPwEZke1kMhXjQyScuVcdkWY_3LguV87bf65wPitAmFV7Xw6AY3aVq5IdkLE3l3jMdTmS-avAQQsTfn1-ujolBaXba0FUUywG_YVxjqSkjKVs8TZR2tpXB94/s1600/DSC05948.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZO0Zf6eKUuzAMl2LMh2uaPwEZke1kMhXjQyScuVcdkWY_3LguV87bf65wPitAmFV7Xw6AY3aVq5IdkLE3l3jMdTmS-avAQQsTfn1-ujolBaXba0FUUywG_YVxjqSkjKVs8TZR2tpXB94/s320/DSC05948.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>5am came really early for my pickup for the Inca Trail. Ouch! The couple hour nap on the bus wasn't quite enough, good thing I only have 4 days until another proper bed.<br />
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The next 43km from the Sacred Valley to Machu Picchu would be spent trekking with 13 others, our SAS guides Freddy and Jose and 21 amazing porters and cooks---- only a zillion steps and three high Andean mountain passes in our way.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJgZNAVZu90YGn8TlqYW3plS2TeQF7dllwENpWqFLkqoswM1dUmdv7Dw7MY0moKfYj-thD2IQIgTFG1aWSF6RbRJglCtJM_SHUEZyWPaBNzpUbb34AZxheHLzoli543s5cyWWlm5EzNLY/s1600/DSC05967.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: left; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJgZNAVZu90YGn8TlqYW3plS2TeQF7dllwENpWqFLkqoswM1dUmdv7Dw7MY0moKfYj-thD2IQIgTFG1aWSF6RbRJglCtJM_SHUEZyWPaBNzpUbb34AZxheHLzoli543s5cyWWlm5EzNLY/s320/DSC05967.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Despite it being the end of rainy season, the weather was <em>mostly</em> good (it poured down while we were sleeping) and we stopped a lot on the way to hear about the Incas and the sites. <br />
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We didn't expect much, but our first glimpse at the porters in action was impressive. There were kitchen and dining tents where we enjoyed delicious soup and a chicken curry. These guys have to drag all this stuff up on their backs- amazing!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiuTCfPBqAnksmYHDe5YzIt6Z8vL02ge0UT817zHmfQOksZ_8tPH9qYPQJ7HXmR2iwp7wY_ix8XE-ZR654XYYreKaEsMwu0Gsnpl6VLU9VYurNQ3U1c57uleU621An7jRcAQ8-iN8W1xQ/s1600/DSC05971.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiuTCfPBqAnksmYHDe5YzIt6Z8vL02ge0UT817zHmfQOksZ_8tPH9qYPQJ7HXmR2iwp7wY_ix8XE-ZR654XYYreKaEsMwu0Gsnpl6VLU9VYurNQ3U1c57uleU621An7jRcAQ8-iN8W1xQ/s320/DSC05971.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">In Nepal it was the Yaks, on the Inca Trail you have to watch out for the Alpacas-- much faster than you would think.<br />
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After a few hours uphill we arrived at camp and added more clothes as the temperature quickly started to drop. It was early to bed (with Calum, my super tall Scottish tentmate who didn't really fit in the tiny tents) since we were all tired from the early start.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigjqfNfSd3utS50MAS7R4vm203o3u8BEmktdcq8JsABwEdEyzxyIRulFm_XFqSLF7cQauwRac-fLzN9ES0rmgo3mJAcQBMVCESNOX_LmHOJqCpr9aByi1Nkhe_8X6rwdRvGd9OiJEuS0A/s1600/DSC05976.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: left; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigjqfNfSd3utS50MAS7R4vm203o3u8BEmktdcq8JsABwEdEyzxyIRulFm_XFqSLF7cQauwRac-fLzN9ES0rmgo3mJAcQBMVCESNOX_LmHOJqCpr9aByi1Nkhe_8X6rwdRvGd9OiJEuS0A/s320/DSC05976.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>It was very early as we were woken to coca tea and Freddy's “Hola Chicoss." Ready for day 2, the dreaded hardest day. <br />
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Before leaving we met all the porters and learned what they each carry. Egg man- huh! Decided I wouldn't want to be the guy that carries the gas tank. Freddy told me waiter was really the best gig.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMB6en2JQ7YNfTrnrqFL6u0n1XHIWLZF4d-cDsWp9T5shEX_CjemNL90ZNcLkK2RG9Te4zK7Ghs-K5Jj0m4eXa0yqqm_djAr1Zo8ruNZgEWndurNEVu92-AXstHVYNkjasr4sXvoPycvs/s1600/DSC06004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMB6en2JQ7YNfTrnrqFL6u0n1XHIWLZF4d-cDsWp9T5shEX_CjemNL90ZNcLkK2RG9Te4zK7Ghs-K5Jj0m4eXa0yqqm_djAr1Zo8ruNZgEWndurNEVu92-AXstHVYNkjasr4sXvoPycvs/s320/DSC06004.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Day 2 is pretty much all uphill and steep downhill, crossing two mountain peaks. After probably 2 1/2 hours up you reach the first peak known as Dead Woman’s Pass-- wow that last 10 minutes was a killer! This is the highest point of the trek at 4,198m. The next 1 ½ hours downhill was hard on the knees. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div>After lunch it was more uphill, passing the ruin of Runkurakay where we had a long lesson in the rain- I can't tell you anything about it since I just wanted to be somewhere warm and dry. It reportedly has good views.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4qQ8w_tb7ekBbIzebloHbHw4e7Wr6htFAL1WSCCUipi2ZL7vQtn_NLkX7QVKW6JWT8mOmGbjE4qaUlQaqWrhwCJzbB8-L2YrGWLjo8jvFxpAri_D_v40CmmDU1dSTKleo2Y3YK3J5e-4/s1600/DSC06068.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: left; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4qQ8w_tb7ekBbIzebloHbHw4e7Wr6htFAL1WSCCUipi2ZL7vQtn_NLkX7QVKW6JWT8mOmGbjE4qaUlQaqWrhwCJzbB8-L2YrGWLjo8jvFxpAri_D_v40CmmDU1dSTKleo2Y3YK3J5e-4/s200/DSC06068.JPG" width="150" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">One more steep ascent and descent over the next several hours and alas at camp on the eastern Amazon slope where things are a lot lusher.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">That night the hot toddies led to some loud drinking games which didn't really do it for me, thankfully I had a dry tent to escape to.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCCuk2pPjkCe6su7l-Z39XVC1id0LJD0BhU2E13thbn-jcFnBU7lr8MR7lEHRPJ6_ve3bZH4KBTF4eK8SK_ATiH3cfZwq2iv9ggo6a711XBUdpH2XC80ESiLP852AnzsNzpoptygQZh4o/s1600/DSC06011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCCuk2pPjkCe6su7l-Z39XVC1id0LJD0BhU2E13thbn-jcFnBU7lr8MR7lEHRPJ6_ve3bZH4KBTF4eK8SK_ATiH3cfZwq2iv9ggo6a711XBUdpH2XC80ESiLP852AnzsNzpoptygQZh4o/s320/DSC06011.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Part of the reason we hiked over both passes on day 2 was to reach the cloud forest before it got totally fogged in. In was certainly a stunning view upon leaving the tent, but by the time the two Germans we waited for arrived (and then refused to leave with us--- it did not make them popular) things were pretty well fogged in. Grand views of the Rio Urubamba valley- no! The ruin of Phuyupatamarka and its beautiful ceremonial baths- sorta. Hundreds more Inca steps downhill- most definitely. :-(<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV7cwmlNg71ruz1R75ev1Wm4-_bgn7xQyXiluyF0kkNqDvu4yft7gyoGQ5VXYd4klmIBobEls8lU-vQkoqX_P2fjtYw6SD4Z7HgZmpwnf5l5GmKXU2ZUb58_3QMaTetZailC5Eq-JYG-I/s1600/DSC06047.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: left; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV7cwmlNg71ruz1R75ev1Wm4-_bgn7xQyXiluyF0kkNqDvu4yft7gyoGQ5VXYd4klmIBobEls8lU-vQkoqX_P2fjtYw6SD4Z7HgZmpwnf5l5GmKXU2ZUb58_3QMaTetZailC5Eq-JYG-I/s320/DSC06047.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>It did clear up just in time for us to visit the terraces of Intipata before arriving at camp 3 for lunch and our first shower in days. Ahhhhh! <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBUdZ3WAuA7qNmIgspFm1xIvj_IKIl0ImWZogaiEQDkNPxCvxn3ofz8TkFG9AU4a5yvuHvukjYOTKWlgdxP4_SMGngPX9dgHPcgv4wa9QhgWr5R9LDeqfBAvwjyS36UugDKd7YP_dEG_k/s1600/DSC06091.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBUdZ3WAuA7qNmIgspFm1xIvj_IKIl0ImWZogaiEQDkNPxCvxn3ofz8TkFG9AU4a5yvuHvukjYOTKWlgdxP4_SMGngPX9dgHPcgv4wa9QhgWr5R9LDeqfBAvwjyS36UugDKd7YP_dEG_k/s320/DSC06091.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Nearby was Winay Wayna, named for the orchid that grows here year-round. It was probably the best Inca site we had seen so far and a good warm up to Machu Picchu the next morning.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcBSqdAnV4fZsVEvKsBRhdBpP8LUot4RtYkci42p9haPgsfGNxKMhwmetUVRVojK5-1ZRt3dT8tZRS53vx0XrY9wSNhwW-WpBnF4lI5rNS3WoQNW9PbUUEmqXWk3KYx5maNvdtSdIHSAI/s1600/DSC06103.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: left; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcBSqdAnV4fZsVEvKsBRhdBpP8LUot4RtYkci42p9haPgsfGNxKMhwmetUVRVojK5-1ZRt3dT8tZRS53vx0XrY9wSNhwW-WpBnF4lI5rNS3WoQNW9PbUUEmqXWk3KYx5maNvdtSdIHSAI/s320/DSC06103.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Our final dinner was quite nice as we said goodbye to the porters. These guys really could not do enough for you and always had a smile on their face. They even baked us a cake---god knows how they managed that given the facilities. I do love my postre!<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1gxVytcDsvarXER7vWa1v0g3RzRHg8JTT_67x3TdBn4TB_RdpMzcSAq3exFxeNcTXM943DsxvPG-ghaLolaBds8fkF-Ktd4by1RHMdxx9F8NeOZ-sdDJ6re7AFJgApGHTp_RO8uFUxX4/s1600/DSC06105.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1gxVytcDsvarXER7vWa1v0g3RzRHg8JTT_67x3TdBn4TB_RdpMzcSAq3exFxeNcTXM943DsxvPG-ghaLolaBds8fkF-Ktd4by1RHMdxx9F8NeOZ-sdDJ6re7AFJgApGHTp_RO8uFUxX4/s320/DSC06105.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>The 330am wake up call was much less enjoyable. In order to be among the first to Machu Picchu you have to get in line around 430am, sitting on a poncho on the cold ground, to be ready to practically run to the Sun Gate when the entrance opens at 6am. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8i8Yw8mGoEuS0IfcouSSRzx1bakT71t8TGhd6pFll2TJ4mPziL2lPJL1ROTjLkgz625nOIdsD7VxgDDqQuoATcgMw8Ay5LzwHMHZAvXn8jCYwpuFixLt6GLoEIjb1TmVWZbjhmcMcxBg/s1600/DSC06109.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: left; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8i8Yw8mGoEuS0IfcouSSRzx1bakT71t8TGhd6pFll2TJ4mPziL2lPJL1ROTjLkgz625nOIdsD7VxgDDqQuoATcgMw8Ay5LzwHMHZAvXn8jCYwpuFixLt6GLoEIjb1TmVWZbjhmcMcxBg/s320/DSC06109.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>I personally hated this part since it really was a very quick one hour walk to Intipunku, the Sun Gate (having to pee the whole time), but had no real problem with the “gringo killer” at the end. <br />
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I will say, seeing the sun come up while above the clouds was pretty cool. <br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMdNEy_4ACsmds2XthSWVIGczJlqVc7hSwPBRhouLcgekd6K78Zl3nr3xt2WS837tESfEh6aUuj2WnppM1USqwR6PtElRAU_Il9ykNxnWarQ-mG3QqbRjfMpZkYf379WJJADl7OT-RvkI/s1600/DSC06129.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMdNEy_4ACsmds2XthSWVIGczJlqVc7hSwPBRhouLcgekd6K78Zl3nr3xt2WS837tESfEh6aUuj2WnppM1USqwR6PtElRAU_Il9ykNxnWarQ-mG3QqbRjfMpZkYf379WJJADl7OT-RvkI/s320/DSC06129.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>But the real event was from the Sun Gate as we watched the clouds lift and caught our first glimpse of Machu Picchu, literally in the middle of nowhere. Pretty amazing!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig_bvcNsgoVaeuCyRSwxF_6RabNFO5Ok6OZX_MAwLSee5UY3Dvi3gAacpbGG4oL_9GHpSw2Pt7Zl4asL-trEFXXegODBAfAC4uIauBjvP2T9mc6PXoO0L54lmCrONxhHJ07NTIbLusxQs/s1600/DSC06139.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: left; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig_bvcNsgoVaeuCyRSwxF_6RabNFO5Ok6OZX_MAwLSee5UY3Dvi3gAacpbGG4oL_9GHpSw2Pt7Zl4asL-trEFXXegODBAfAC4uIauBjvP2T9mc6PXoO0L54lmCrONxhHJ07NTIbLusxQs/s320/DSC06139.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>About 45 minutes more downhill and we were finally there. 4 days and 43km later, in rain, uphill and down, it was all worth it.<br />
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Machu Picchu is an ancient city that was never found by the Spaniards and lost until American Hiram Bingham found it in 1911. Since there are no records, no one really knows what it was used for but speculate it was a trade nexus between the Amazon and highlands and a ceremonial center.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0ooM5HMSiydTHKVe0L1NjKd4A_4m1r5COqZNZ7Piw_7SbrgM57PSmeFSdu95L0VPcyxA-8DzlxDOLymzanK5qpo6NheOJ3-CJpvdHx74pZplD7GGmqJNSSXKcFtB0i9ox-iaK9VL8lKg/s1600/DSC06153.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0ooM5HMSiydTHKVe0L1NjKd4A_4m1r5COqZNZ7Piw_7SbrgM57PSmeFSdu95L0VPcyxA-8DzlxDOLymzanK5qpo6NheOJ3-CJpvdHx74pZplD7GGmqJNSSXKcFtB0i9ox-iaK9VL8lKg/s320/DSC06153.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Of course we needed a team photo, but “the Germans aren’t coming” since they never really caught up. We were completely exhausted, but the proper bathroom really improved our spirits (just like in Nepal!).</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDkaefv4krzTP6xtSZxjx9WDh8zOQ7MfO4PvXYzTundIW47F7wJebSD2mP9Y3RuouAkazCOoO9p1ED3KawalwoxySNNxGpko6TugbdgqmV-qw2mHq-myanEhIZ25Iz6VV6-D-vKH1A6Ig/s1600/DSC06182.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: left; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDkaefv4krzTP6xtSZxjx9WDh8zOQ7MfO4PvXYzTundIW47F7wJebSD2mP9Y3RuouAkazCOoO9p1ED3KawalwoxySNNxGpko6TugbdgqmV-qw2mHq-myanEhIZ25Iz6VV6-D-vKH1A6Ig/s320/DSC06182.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Freddy's "mucho cool" tour of the site was very extensive, but at points I thought my legs were too sore to go up one more flight of steps. Calum really got into the thousandth explanation about the many sided stones that perfectly fit together and those carved for sacred areas. <br />
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Forget the hike up Wayna Picchu- enough is enough. I caught the bus back to Aguas Calientes for some rest and lunch before taking the 5pm train towards Cusco. <br />
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The train was surprisingly fun as we compared tips (we were extravagant) and shared a few cervesas with the other groups. The real fun began when we met at Paddy's Pub (very Peruvian, eh!) for team drinks which turned into a 5am dance party at one of the discos.<br />
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I felt bad waking Coco up at 5am to let me in, but at least he didn't have to deal with me all day since I slept, only to rise for a massage late in the day and then headed back to bed since I had another early wake up to catch a flight to my next destination.</div>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03761254329951728715noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7077756613019007351.post-83430584526322160232011-04-15T20:40:00.000-04:002011-04-15T20:40:48.336-04:00Peru Pt. 2-- The Real Peru<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I had done some kind of charity thing on every other continent (assuming volunteering at an Italian vineyard counts), so felt strongly I should do a little something in South America too.<br />
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I realized before I left that I don't really have any real skills (e.g., teaching, medicine, etc.), but I can swim and drowning is far too common. I got it- I can teach swim lessons! Wait, there aren't really any organizations doing that?<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKnUKTfyg0r9JHfTfOzUmEun8EnO9LwZevDT1TXtF0rYWf9jcdb8q4CC-Xhyr_YlaW2TWalNg6RdotklEuyt5-nRki0SmGttRY088SCxFv4iH8d1YPCXiBKLs7jrt1tdyXOJBQDmdLo3g/s1600/DSC05621.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKnUKTfyg0r9JHfTfOzUmEun8EnO9LwZevDT1TXtF0rYWf9jcdb8q4CC-Xhyr_YlaW2TWalNg6RdotklEuyt5-nRki0SmGttRY088SCxFv4iH8d1YPCXiBKLs7jrt1tdyXOJBQDmdLo3g/s320/DSC05621.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>That is how I came across <a href="http://www.wavesfordevelopment.org/">WAVES for Deve- lopment</a>, a non-profit with the goal of creating "life-enriching experiences in coastal communities through Education programs that develop youth into healthy, empowered adults and Surf Voluntourism programs that engage travelers and transform their views of the world and themselves."<br />
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Sounds pretty good, eh! I can spend two weeks teaching swim lessons, helping with English class and surf lessons AND try to get better at surfing. <br />
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Here I come Lobitos, Peru-- a small fishing and surfing town in northern Peru.<br />
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Sam, the Swiss volunteer coordinator, met me at the bus from Lima with a fellow volunteer, Loreto from New York. Jen (Canada) and Tracy (Nantucket) had already arrived so there were four of us living in the Waves house for the next few weeks.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlZSY1-5EswsKNZO9F8jEWPqflkXwAzSLDowSWIn1tg6-JDi7h2FP6vez0bq8y7YyKmRTbHorRA2LEUjkBAHEK9VcMAaMf20CUwkjwWLgoj0CJLkjVPvkIUgu_t3KjbgUjHZun-UFXm1Q/s1600/DSC05592.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlZSY1-5EswsKNZO9F8jEWPqflkXwAzSLDowSWIn1tg6-JDi7h2FP6vez0bq8y7YyKmRTbHorRA2LEUjkBAHEK9VcMAaMf20CUwkjwWLgoj0CJLkjVPvkIUgu_t3KjbgUjHZun-UFXm1Q/s320/DSC05592.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>We started the first week of the school year after summer break (isn't 'little business man' cute!), so it was a little slow getting started since they had all sorts of activities that did not seem to include learning.<br />
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</div>Eventually we did get to help out in the 1st and 2nd grade classes-- it was fun teaching colors, animals and days of the week (good thing we were there or they would forever be spelling Wednesday wrong- admittedly it is a tough one).<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEFV2O8ua7NhY3VC2WKNmlLZBVxl5P8sDMA1ia4fW_HjWm4DUoB5vNX9olPVbfh17hjFhi4JqZ1AzeQ0a_pvZZl6yZQ-SF_1nTMR6DG8K_eWcxSvGdF4RCyX4yASOADRdYS0sl_jtIqj8/s1600/DSC05728.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEFV2O8ua7NhY3VC2WKNmlLZBVxl5P8sDMA1ia4fW_HjWm4DUoB5vNX9olPVbfh17hjFhi4JqZ1AzeQ0a_pvZZl6yZQ-SF_1nTMR6DG8K_eWcxSvGdF4RCyX4yASOADRdYS0sl_jtIqj8/s320/DSC05728.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Surf lessons with 'Shrek' (I accidentally named him since his real name sounded a bit like Ogre-- it stuck, sorry!) were great, but much harder work than you would think. Besides getting pretty good at surfing, the six boys in the class really liked playing in the water with my waterproof camera-- I have about 1,000 pictures to prove it.<br />
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It was all going smoothly until 1) no one showed up for our organized swim lessons and 2) I got deathly ill.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifNaDZX0ZK8vK-mznJ5D9X8Cr81OB1Q51KJSLJd-IBRw78_eqA1RrV5ha9efsvB09dbd-QxMXZNk_H2El4MIFcqDqmUK-4qaiOI2MCxELR07g4xYMqxVrITJTRwQH6P2exfkGvIocpGt0/s1600/DSC05799.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifNaDZX0ZK8vK-mznJ5D9X8Cr81OB1Q51KJSLJd-IBRw78_eqA1RrV5ha9efsvB09dbd-QxMXZNk_H2El4MIFcqDqmUK-4qaiOI2MCxELR07g4xYMqxVrITJTRwQH6P2exfkGvIocpGt0/s320/DSC05799.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Having a 103.8F fever, chills, mega aches and a bad tummy was not my idea of a good 4-5 days as Loreto (in the picture, not me) and I basically camped out in our room with no TV or Internet. Perhaps we were delirious, but we did have lots of laughs. <br />
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Some of my favorite Lobitos moments:<br />
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<div style="text-align: left;">Loreto decided she was going to surf at a beach further away in hopes it wouldn't be crowded with "Brazilians" (like a curse word). Fast forward to an image of her walking back in her wetsuit (half on) <strong>through the desert</strong> with shoes she made from scrap wood and hair ties to avoid more blisters (and she didn't even get to surf).</div><ul style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYQLPloWu_KbmjDBkmJPUw0mRt26CZ3R_xP7BdR8h9ph2cTbF-PomJFiAedJpBOtXUQNjfogsekuosyXuH38lA5ZMJgCD2y0rAUHzViKkRp9fa9pqAJsjvJv5he0tNtLYyflXmEYdQLu4/s1600/DSC05873.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYQLPloWu_KbmjDBkmJPUw0mRt26CZ3R_xP7BdR8h9ph2cTbF-PomJFiAedJpBOtXUQNjfogsekuosyXuH38lA5ZMJgCD2y0rAUHzViKkRp9fa9pqAJsjvJv5he0tNtLYyflXmEYdQLu4/s320/DSC05873.JPG" width="320" /></a></div></ul><div style="text-align: left;">"Libre de Anal- fabetismo"- we weren't sure what it was, but we were happy there were free of it since anal- fabetismo sounds bad! (turns out it is illiteracy).<br />
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</div><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqjDDA9BjMgXwMCUeevlUst1tiKABzMzdFHv-bV3OUXE7ljQ3f1Am8FpUN2QuqO17tOpzp7_wHUx0TqWMPqD353LXFYEVCXLybaAhJiLdXU48148ly-KXyjbwuVTqoUShDxZ3yfBOU_II/s1600/DSC05878.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqjDDA9BjMgXwMCUeevlUst1tiKABzMzdFHv-bV3OUXE7ljQ3f1Am8FpUN2QuqO17tOpzp7_wHUx0TqWMPqD353LXFYEVCXLybaAhJiLdXU48148ly-KXyjbwuVTqoUShDxZ3yfBOU_II/s320/DSC05878.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Laughing hys- terically as we waited for no one to show for swim lessons, all the while listening to the same Presidential campaign song blaring over and over in the main square of Old Lobitos. We considered rearranging the stones atop the hill to spell out NADAR (swim), perhaps that would have been better marketing since it works for candidates running for local office.</div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFfTUir0gHngH9tvjtfmKw2ghsc_VNWfQnQ6fyhsLI6Zcn0tolcqh6cDI9DK6_pLpwU8rcUnIL8__yZUxWtdDoP8aaWGG_CArr7bvrWyOzqCGNG-sqyRr1v9AWQDrdWws_JVDSFcnJRRw/s1600/DSC05610.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: left; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFfTUir0gHngH9tvjtfmKw2ghsc_VNWfQnQ6fyhsLI6Zcn0tolcqh6cDI9DK6_pLpwU8rcUnIL8__yZUxWtdDoP8aaWGG_CArr7bvrWyOzqCGNG-sqyRr1v9AWQDrdWws_JVDSFcnJRRw/s320/DSC05610.JPG" width="240" /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: left;">We dubbed Lobitos "the city of dirt" since everything was either sand or dirt and you could never stay clean. I also had a run-in with a large thorn that went through my flip flop into my heel--- could "poop foot" (there are a ton of stray dogs besides the dirt) be the cause of my illness? I was walking back from grabbing a cervesa at Cora, a place I only visited in tribute to my niece, so I blame her ;-)</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">As our symptoms multiplied, Loreto thought we need to flee Lobitos before we got the "Immaculate HIV."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Sporade, our cure and the only thing we ingested for days. What a bad name for a Gatorade knockoff.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3OgKSKi9RkeJE-rjeNs7NzaKyYGMcXnsM8ZUzU3Erx4QvQtHueJ2ZZEKmIH3R7VXqwLzSRIGZ5gWWZfDUdTCpf2EUPsze8shCL4HqsR1Ho1oLb9hRwndSy0HhR25z-mjMaBUBbDkyErU/s1600/DSC05755.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3OgKSKi9RkeJE-rjeNs7NzaKyYGMcXnsM8ZUzU3Erx4QvQtHueJ2ZZEKmIH3R7VXqwLzSRIGZ5gWWZfDUdTCpf2EUPsze8shCL4HqsR1Ho1oLb9hRwndSy0HhR25z-mjMaBUBbDkyErU/s320/DSC05755.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">Thanks to another expat in town, 'Chef' as I called him, we ate very well. We even made fresh pasta one night which required a shocking number of us--- I perfected the role of pasta "catcher" since the bulk was ending up on the floor before we used my travel clothes line to hang the pasta. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">I tried to make a chocolate cake and now understand the importance of baking soda, measuring cups and proper sticks of butter. It was quite right!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjivWGlJIdGEH-WZ3xcQ1AkvdrOw93EVG0gO94QOhsSxAzM7VJGiITX6LzuG6x96vikDvQ5L1eBdIRDBrqs6fYbdtSuXb-DsR0MFPspq_4hhhkIQmqy0c3cCgHNEr3XSj1kD7LHG5AUsrs/s1600/DSC05789.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: left; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjivWGlJIdGEH-WZ3xcQ1AkvdrOw93EVG0gO94QOhsSxAzM7VJGiITX6LzuG6x96vikDvQ5L1eBdIRDBrqs6fYbdtSuXb-DsR0MFPspq_4hhhkIQmqy0c3cCgHNEr3XSj1kD7LHG5AUsrs/s320/DSC05789.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">Bowling at the oldest alley in South America, built by the Brits in 1903. We had to hire local kids to reset the pins for us when we actually managed to get the ball down the lane (we were convinced they pulled to the right). Amazingly I went from a winning score of 113 to 59 in the next game--- ouch!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3j3C1r7BL3oS6L0wDqI4fuaXx2x6WA7wDhI0K8h2751l-Aqrnxc6SWpNtx7rgvd2ipvBbmrbO4TAYOmyjGz85P66zjMcXD_OVkuSzamy8rt-jLpLqni6SSJYgezyVn2PWXRc9ZAhxSUc/s1600/DSC05589.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3j3C1r7BL3oS6L0wDqI4fuaXx2x6WA7wDhI0K8h2751l-Aqrnxc6SWpNtx7rgvd2ipvBbmrbO4TAYOmyjGz85P66zjMcXD_OVkuSzamy8rt-jLpLqni6SSJYgezyVn2PWXRc9ZAhxSUc/s320/DSC05589.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">Since my surfing was not going well (not the best location for a beginner since you have to share the wave with some pretty aggressive "Brazilians" who know how to surf), I decided to swim to the pier instead. Picture the look on the fisherman's faces when I climbed the super tall ladder at the end of the pier- where did this chica in pink come from?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9Qybo_bIwt-CrPBdNgVQEhAE_hbXXj6IUMpOh_9cPPV8k7Z6CQahnP7JKUijDp0uyg3hlB6PYTlDPSiInHAhi3GiSXFIYW2wx5nRScj4NJc1lR7b8YhLYoouVRQZEoop0lUEqoegh74k/s1600/DSC05768.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: left; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9Qybo_bIwt-CrPBdNgVQEhAE_hbXXj6IUMpOh_9cPPV8k7Z6CQahnP7JKUijDp0uyg3hlB6PYTlDPSiInHAhi3GiSXFIYW2wx5nRScj4NJc1lR7b8YhLYoouVRQZEoop0lUEqoegh74k/s320/DSC05768.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">TSUNAMI!(from the devastating earthquake in Japan) Got out of town! As all the locals heeded advice and headed up the hill with their tiny suitcases we decided to barbecue (and nearly fall through one of the open holes in the ground-- so close!!!!). At least we didn't try to surf like some others. A 1 meter wave hit and we were none the wiser. There was a blackout a few days later, but apparently that is pretty normal.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD6pHcbLqchnqp26TxeALl0agQ1nctz37zz2z5VJggZNveIX8qNqTAvV0k6O-5bS09B7drJJ2clKEJPPhpApHwOeIh0nzMqo4zFSwwSgTeowcHH8LGmS_nQ54M26IYqATfd634iTxhFHY/s1600/DSC05677.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD6pHcbLqchnqp26TxeALl0agQ1nctz37zz2z5VJggZNveIX8qNqTAvV0k6O-5bS09B7drJJ2clKEJPPhpApHwOeIh0nzMqo4zFSwwSgTeowcHH8LGmS_nQ54M26IYqATfd634iTxhFHY/s320/DSC05677.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Pekki, our guard dog, who followed us everywhere and watched our things while we were in the ocean not surfing. I think she sensed I was not so fond of her, so paid me the most attention. We missed her when she fled with the locals during the tsunami.<br />
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But the best-- the celebrations of Lobitos' 56th anniversary. What a blast! <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjha-pYzJUJF6CMsRqQYRHcTJVXjIgpge2GXUIN44bOKzk5VUs9nf9Ea_xANjpSEgB1bhcKGdObslt1L2XfMpYzI4RFhYu3IXiBUrf4JozSscIx3OY38nkY1fuxXjWb4gl9A6cHFI2u1jg/s1600/DSC05846.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: left; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjha-pYzJUJF6CMsRqQYRHcTJVXjIgpge2GXUIN44bOKzk5VUs9nf9Ea_xANjpSEgB1bhcKGdObslt1L2XfMpYzI4RFhYu3IXiBUrf4JozSscIx3OY38nkY1fuxXjWb4gl9A6cHFI2u1jg/s320/DSC05846.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>First we got to march in their 1-block parade in front of the Mayor (it was rumored the Mayor was boozing it up in Talara until the early hours, hence the delayed start). <br />
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Everyone in Peru seems to goose-step, but we just couldn't!<br />
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The LPD (Lobitos Police Department) was in force, although they always seemed to be in force, patrolling town in teams of at least five.<br />
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There was also great people watching, for instance the <u>woman</u> wearing the "Money Before Bitches" t-shirt-- don't want to be her friend.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmtHHzlfSJn0BmGv9S8GYuIpCtlQFKLOU7x4UEBblK2ioS0Yd2xY9zN1JEGLd6yT-4MXIwIHGdMPGoahwnDx88fEDAiSTSUbzWTcEQw-GwPjQs3LlqcgxfeEeNG2i4iFkppxEc9IfS0M8/s1600/DSC05872.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmtHHzlfSJn0BmGv9S8GYuIpCtlQFKLOU7x4UEBblK2ioS0Yd2xY9zN1JEGLd6yT-4MXIwIHGdMPGoahwnDx88fEDAiSTSUbzWTcEQw-GwPjQs3LlqcgxfeEeNG2i4iFkppxEc9IfS0M8/s320/DSC05872.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Finally we were feeling better, so celebrated with some wine and a good meal before joining the locals in Old Lobitos for some beer and dancing (the band was really good). The gringos showing up made quite a stir. Loreto, Sam and I danced with a bunch of locals and drank all the free beer offered. As you can see, the school security guard maybe had a little too much of that free beer. ;-) <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzwk4Phxu9mao4m23crI1wWJgksHbAs1UPa2KHUO2w3nesCZF7aLyctTUdm3b31GSw9GYA_m3YzWSi6UOBm61XiMVlTBrlsajvagTzr3bj5MTDP4x86KCX3RlZt7toBpIT9WDJQn7I9Ik/s1600/DSC05864.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: left; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzwk4Phxu9mao4m23crI1wWJgksHbAs1UPa2KHUO2w3nesCZF7aLyctTUdm3b31GSw9GYA_m3YzWSi6UOBm61XiMVlTBrlsajvagTzr3bj5MTDP4x86KCX3RlZt7toBpIT9WDJQn7I9Ik/s320/DSC05864.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>And the highlight, we finally got to meet the newly crowned Miss Lobitos, Sam's favorite after Miss Tourism Talara!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUtn_-Eiu5MK2ZJNYzd5vjlsyaZ75Ng2HrV5kPc8OWoS-xTcVjjOAGLlCv-ErhT-ZLntEgjgKgFT9SBnnKuKzwLc6d10HMXnCtVWv9UjaMwLu-6qW_js8AXAaCCjt4ARik0XlZGLtIqi0/s1600/DSC05644.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUtn_-Eiu5MK2ZJNYzd5vjlsyaZ75Ng2HrV5kPc8OWoS-xTcVjjOAGLlCv-ErhT-ZLntEgjgKgFT9SBnnKuKzwLc6d10HMXnCtVWv9UjaMwLu-6qW_js8AXAaCCjt4ARik0XlZGLtIqi0/s320/DSC05644.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>All kidding (and germs) aside, WAVES is doing a great thing trying to help the local community, not just coming for the good left break and contributing nothing. <br />
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The kids will learn a lot more English, the boys in the surf class will gain confidence that will hopefully motivate them to consider something beyond fishing or mototaxi driver. <br />
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Hopefully Henry will become a successful photographer thanks to the equipment provided and personal attention he has received from volunteers like Loreto.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoR4Wiwl1_RXuYiMkmoO9-j4ZdyGxk-9zcH7fBIuRf8OPOjjFtM94ppi2sXsTaYHaUhVfwXBjDbSFAZRnhf2nm_aiClQEynreXwtAu1NPEPkZWcdAvs6NXlTovGvPOO3k1eVt8QtEEoAM/s1600/DSC05874.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: left; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoR4Wiwl1_RXuYiMkmoO9-j4ZdyGxk-9zcH7fBIuRf8OPOjjFtM94ppi2sXsTaYHaUhVfwXBjDbSFAZRnhf2nm_aiClQEynreXwtAu1NPEPkZWcdAvs6NXlTovGvPOO3k1eVt8QtEEoAM/s320/DSC05874.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Perhaps the women who cooked us lunch every day in their houses will have extra income and see how they can grow that by catering to all those "Brazilian" surfers. <br />
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I am really sorry I got sick and couldn't help as much as I had intended, but I left with lots of good memories and new friends (I have not laughed so much writing this blog!)<br />
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It is definitely an ambitious undertaking and I wish WAVES all the best and look forward to all the updates.</div>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03761254329951728715noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7077756613019007351.post-26291462396258883502011-04-12T12:57:00.001-04:002011-04-13T19:00:49.982-04:00Peru Pt. 1- Canyons to Capital<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I am American again after crossing the border into Peru.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnL75MoXPw9gKANk3gp4mKoYmA90iigBGnDXsi01GbCboScUfqi4nfE7owWZQ8aDhqL75o9chFUDxoe6PMA1TQ4G9bReH2r63o8fvkCa2EYTRVxh8Ltoo8bg2Ooov4_ilKNwuH8ovubps/s1600/DSC05382.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnL75MoXPw9gKANk3gp4mKoYmA90iigBGnDXsi01GbCboScUfqi4nfE7owWZQ8aDhqL75o9chFUDxoe6PMA1TQ4G9bReH2r63o8fvkCa2EYTRVxh8Ltoo8bg2Ooov4_ilKNwuH8ovubps/s320/DSC05382.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">It was a long and very cold bus journey from Copa- cabana, Bolivia to Arequipa, Peru, traveling through Puno, but the scenery continued to be stunning.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I have seen a lot of people selling odd things on buses, but this may have been the best--- wheels of (stinky) cheese that people were actually buying. What are you supposed to do with a wheel of cheese on a bus??? </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div>I arrived late to La Casa de los Penguinos where I was greeted by the extremely helpful Dutch owner.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZzg_2otZqADmbCNZJSA2DQpumte9V3NUIMqEXFVAVn3nLY5BuKaEbmYXFEKjLPJDUeoZ-_5PnkAuOCMz6T1wUxeFVENqsfNLz3lYIljDP2ksIavfZsClm0KM9iO1N0g7o2ZxM9vlivqk/s1600/DSC05271.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZzg_2otZqADmbCNZJSA2DQpumte9V3NUIMqEXFVAVn3nLY5BuKaEbmYXFEKjLPJDUeoZ-_5PnkAuOCMz6T1wUxeFVENqsfNLz3lYIljDP2ksIavfZsClm0KM9iO1N0g7o2ZxM9vlivqk/s320/DSC05271.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Arequipa, Peru's 2nd largest city known as Ciudad Blanca (White City), is really a lovely spot. There is a lot to see, but I mostly enjoyed just walking around the grand, white colonial buildings and observing the goings on in the Plaza de Armas with its cathedral (that has been reconstructed many times due to earthquakes) and colonnaded balconies.<br />
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Before I did any sightseeing, I first wanted to book a 3-day tour to Colca Canyon with Land Adventures.<br />
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When booking the tour I met Raul who invited me to join friends for lunch. It was nice to get a local's perspective and help ordering typical dishes of the area. I even ended up meeting them for dinner, drinks and dancing (at the disco for locals, not tourists) before I had enough and wanted desperately to go home. Not sure if it is true, but getting home is a little more challenging since you can't just hail one of the million cabs on the street since they have been known to kidnap. Eventually one of Raul's "trusted cabs" showed up to whisk me away. Yay!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRC0j4y9G6oWYL-tjfaqH9-7CQgWe6sDldP_8hUpHVnPXIQRRMyQnpQI1DfTkC0vgfmMMx1Uo-j4ND3xKrZnuP2illtyIGEsRhzD76F8N4vZ2PEauzxdz_K6im7G_cBIaD_JHSEfUZMRI/s1600/DSC05257.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRC0j4y9G6oWYL-tjfaqH9-7CQgWe6sDldP_8hUpHVnPXIQRRMyQnpQI1DfTkC0vgfmMMx1Uo-j4ND3xKrZnuP2illtyIGEsRhzD76F8N4vZ2PEauzxdz_K6im7G_cBIaD_JHSEfUZMRI/s320/DSC05257.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>In between lunch and dinner I took a private guided tour of Monasterio de Santa Catalina, a large convent divided into three cloisters: Novice, Orange and the Great Cloister (you could easily get lost in here).<br />
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The convent was absolutely fascinating, mostly because the inhabitants didn't exactly seem so charitable. Back in the days it was the place for the 2nd born of very wealthy families (you had to pay a dowry to enter). Once they entered the convent they never saw their families again, but they did own and furnish their own apartments and came with servants, so it didn't seem so tough. After some church reforms, the nuns had to give up their servants and live communally--- can't imagine they were too excited about that.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzusF0wVEzE9cShksBMyX8bNumKCtDeVj7S55CPMy1i6U-vtVL-g49tQujhH_CclAB297sz8c-xL4xAzesxgO4AEJCPsyDq4qGVezSSAsnBIIn_GllkBgmB_g7utjzNi9lhuqXeitlBt8/s1600/DSC05238.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzusF0wVEzE9cShksBMyX8bNumKCtDeVj7S55CPMy1i6U-vtVL-g49tQujhH_CclAB297sz8c-xL4xAzesxgO4AEJCPsyDq4qGVezSSAsnBIIn_GllkBgmB_g7utjzNi9lhuqXeitlBt8/s320/DSC05238.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>I had intended to head to Colca the following morning, but the Dutch couple (Yvette and Fette) had their luggage lost by the airline, so we had to wait a day.<br />
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Believe it or not, I was actually quite productive and spent the bulk of that day updating my resume in preparation for returning to the real world. <br />
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Finally, a crazy early start to canyon country.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfKPH-AVvROFjFlMUfrv0ha3jyT2jA9isbReM_-OQdJGOmUpZpNb3-AWqAypS1v_-Z7W7xEQiRs2rreqhoaJVLW7csXFkUv9UrsZEbsUdwYAlGkKTxcgCkMCYDMeIMKeSZVEY7db0cAoY/s1600/DSC05279.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfKPH-AVvROFjFlMUfrv0ha3jyT2jA9isbReM_-OQdJGOmUpZpNb3-AWqAypS1v_-Z7W7xEQiRs2rreqhoaJVLW7csXFkUv9UrsZEbsUdwYAlGkKTxcgCkMCYDMeIMKeSZVEY7db0cAoY/s320/DSC05279.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Colca Canyon is 100km long and up to 3,000m deep, the 2nd deepest canyon in the world (no the Grand Canyon is not #1, in fact Colca is more than twice as deep as the Grand Canyon; Cotahuasi in Peru is #1, 150m deeper than Colca). <br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYFn9v__mBZ8NuXpuFZ8QvPGmL1n-gMsDtV1dzOXf7PLVjWIM8LLQ7zCgIHkcwH-L1f31jWzqNCZ8Z2qLQiObgmGef2QjTuO2e_kkcnllgyxLGQIv0qX9hLMdkNWsDDsBBVTiIV-DsaFM/s1600/DSC05316.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYFn9v__mBZ8NuXpuFZ8QvPGmL1n-gMsDtV1dzOXf7PLVjWIM8LLQ7zCgIHkcwH-L1f31jWzqNCZ8Z2qLQiObgmGef2QjTuO2e_kkcnllgyxLGQIv0qX9hLMdkNWsDDsBBVTiIV-DsaFM/s320/DSC05316.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Along the way we stopped at Cruz del Condor to see the graceful condors gliding through the sky-- an impressive site. Afterwards we started the 1,100m hike down into the canyon (ouch, my knees!). It started to rain a bit post lunch, but we made it to our host family relatively dry. <br />
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Amazingly the bedroom made of mud bricks was also dry, as was the kitchen where Roy prepared all our meals (including pancakes) over an open fire (thankfully we didn't try any of the guinea pigs they had caged outside).<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO4GKC5QXLnlHj_tMp1DYtq9kjUhRaPZJFNKW7XFcpyDNo5XewqwM-bwXfewt5xNGH84DJ3RCKNDwX2VGerIVrn3OW9Ud-We7S5ebbaVVyeEU4wzbo1CFOV-tjG73BkfGPGdrPndyS2xA/s1600/DSC05355.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO4GKC5QXLnlHj_tMp1DYtq9kjUhRaPZJFNKW7XFcpyDNo5XewqwM-bwXfewt5xNGH84DJ3RCKNDwX2VGerIVrn3OW9Ud-We7S5ebbaVVyeEU4wzbo1CFOV-tjG73BkfGPGdrPndyS2xA/s320/DSC05355.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">The next morning we had a short walk through a few villages, sampling different kinds of cactus fruits (neither was very good) on our way to the Oasis for a quick swim and lunch. It was a pretty hike, passing waterfalls, animals and huge agave plants, and of course the beautiful vistas.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-PR84XRegoEuele7FDzf2wXokVATxTig49j1WU7_fr_31XzfGhfvlqZmX7PvBnjSVTIo40ZsySmVHBx664B4QrZ8GYxtl9cS297QC85R92xh2BzAAQjvvYJygNv7CgVcQU2XnxsY8JE8/s1600/DSC05372.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-PR84XRegoEuele7FDzf2wXokVATxTig49j1WU7_fr_31XzfGhfvlqZmX7PvBnjSVTIo40ZsySmVHBx664B4QrZ8GYxtl9cS297QC85R92xh2BzAAQjvvYJygNv7CgVcQU2XnxsY8JE8/s320/DSC05372.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Unfortunately now we had a 6km hike <strong>all uphill</strong> just as the heavy rain started. I must say 3 1/2 hours uphill in the rain is not as bad as it sounds, but I don't plan on doing it again. Nor do I plan to eat egg soup (yuck)-- at least our host knew how to make a delicious hot chocolate as we huddled around the electric heater for warmth with the young Canadian bartender who mixed a cocktail every other day, <em>maybe</em>.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxh0VDYQMRHMYvpGQc0Gn68iL3SQWwkKiJw9CPvmT7evA6gcb1WHrfjgYc1bNztITCz7y67TIB0EVgyTuaMnfZR_29HaYeGppeggjSY_PgBinvjsUlRWnTVEGIkLG_-g8NJVSMGzBRXfI/s1600/DSC05393.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxh0VDYQMRHMYvpGQc0Gn68iL3SQWwkKiJw9CPvmT7evA6gcb1WHrfjgYc1bNztITCz7y67TIB0EVgyTuaMnfZR_29HaYeGppeggjSY_PgBinvjsUlRWnTVEGIkLG_-g8NJVSMGzBRXfI/s320/DSC05393.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>With all our clothes still damp we headed back to Arequipa with a stop at a small village and hot spring. It was nice to finally be warm after shivering the last couple days. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqcOGdXD6f9vO5ebEuVnIRxtZMNP9d7xUp-GDjiwGjbK4eMfhX4iE69zAZfdCr5bX1NWVpCdYQq2l9ttERFO39fc8qlWMGYvQTW4jyqZrpFD6c3NQ8QAxw1gU2ZKcusyCny3KQMGX5ZfU/s1600/DSC05406.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqcOGdXD6f9vO5ebEuVnIRxtZMNP9d7xUp-GDjiwGjbK4eMfhX4iE69zAZfdCr5bX1NWVpCdYQq2l9ttERFO39fc8qlWMGYvQTW4jyqZrpFD6c3NQ8QAxw1gU2ZKcusyCny3KQMGX5ZfU/s320/DSC05406.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>I was also pretty warm on Cruz del Sur's overnight bus to Ica, the town closest to Huacachina.<br />
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Huacachina is an oasis surrounded by huge sand dunes. Although I wasn't planning to swim in the green lagoon, I was happy to pass the super hot days sitting poolside at El Huacanicero Hotel (even if they did make me pay for the mayonnaisey sandwich I refused to eat). <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLU8xLdWSWWqGE6v6DzjBX_BBOTbV0dt_6nstaFFzehrClNL68mRaieBcx-ax4HdW9pjElPzkgIkRUM6SuHPtAVf2-0Opb1hQQE0c1yN8LtCMyrpv3BxMmoRpVwpQRLRyD8NfDuFrZUJM/s1600/DSC05427.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLU8xLdWSWWqGE6v6DzjBX_BBOTbV0dt_6nstaFFzehrClNL68mRaieBcx-ax4HdW9pjElPzkgIkRUM6SuHPtAVf2-0Opb1hQQE0c1yN8LtCMyrpv3BxMmoRpVwpQRLRyD8NfDuFrZUJM/s320/DSC05427.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>The real attraction here are the areneros (dune buggy) rides--- like a roller coaster minus the rails. Imagine going at high speed up a sand dune and they dropping over the edge. So fun (and scary)!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfjM80gX-oxxXXtfy4FxxXTFu1_G5LSpHwfEGOYY4MUuwuvbsy-XsPqgAg8TIj5JrQ3KlIUoJbUTC1XLk9BEImR_V6NRnxk7LDv0R5UcWUNZqYgWx3KnnvFWJysNEvoRTWdmzqovNAvA4/s1600/DSC05452.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfjM80gX-oxxXXtfy4FxxXTFu1_G5LSpHwfEGOYY4MUuwuvbsy-XsPqgAg8TIj5JrQ3KlIUoJbUTC1XLk9BEImR_V6NRnxk7LDv0R5UcWUNZqYgWx3KnnvFWJysNEvoRTWdmzqovNAvA4/s320/DSC05452.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>To make it even better, there were numerous occasions to sand board down the dunes, some of which were really huge and kinda scary. Besides getting sand <em>everywhere</em> I had some bruises on my hip bone from when my board went over a few rocks on the way down. It was really a good thrill!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5HdYTevI6nVheL4622OGtSAQnGIBv1PdYIWdAktOy_G6EbiEHc6sNfSTzOp7FUXGI6TyQGawrKahe1JHmVi3p237lmaF4P9tVgbdL8okSBnVnD49gbwUWZ4CYEThyRQVpdv9KzSsyU78/s1600/DSC05493.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5HdYTevI6nVheL4622OGtSAQnGIBv1PdYIWdAktOy_G6EbiEHc6sNfSTzOp7FUXGI6TyQGawrKahe1JHmVi3p237lmaF4P9tVgbdL8okSBnVnD49gbwUWZ4CYEThyRQVpdv9KzSsyU78/s320/DSC05493.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>While there I also visited some local vineyards for some wine and Pisco tastings with Lynette, an American I met on the bus from Arequipa. Peru is not known for their wine (for good reason) and Pisco is better left mixed up with something sour than straight up (= lighter fluid). The best part of the day was when the traditional vineyard let us stomp on grapes- a first for me (it was sticky and there were lots of bees to avoid).<br />
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It was only 3 1/2 hours from Ica to Lima, where I arrived with Lynette to HQ Villa, a really lovely spot owned by Misha and Michael.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHINQjPIfYhknB1WuVgy-VbaUFlF2_cF6XgVNqutFdSd7OOE7Z9sIRLioYRbldnF1scfOKePMVx7fMOPLiIRAUOz84iRQ7KOW7rgaPfQIVUhuqQ0gmg0qCqBNVv5DEMEhojYOM0qdJZFc/s1600/DSC05510.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHINQjPIfYhknB1WuVgy-VbaUFlF2_cF6XgVNqutFdSd7OOE7Z9sIRLioYRbldnF1scfOKePMVx7fMOPLiIRAUOz84iRQ7KOW7rgaPfQIVUhuqQ0gmg0qCqBNVv5DEMEhojYOM0qdJZFc/s320/DSC05510.JPG" width="320" /></a>People generally don't have much nice to say about Lima, but I thought it was okay. The first day Lynette and I walked all over Miraflores to the ocean and the LarcoMar shopping mall that is interestingly built into a cliff (and felt just like a US mall, shockingly). Actually Miraflores felt a lot like walking around LA.<br />
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We hopped a local bus to see a fountain show in the park, but for some reason the nice security guard told us it was closed and to come back tomorrow.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQOTMXX_6opoDscVnYjV7nAuhbgXnIqR9pdnulAnl2QIBvoHzbFOfapbqTBflVa7AtnPvfSZeTbvylxOHBce3IDPW-kiVxOiyiwq6KdmC0xuh4JqshRoSwp2mMk3HNJeD6ePW6-y8FYQc/s1600/DSC05526.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQOTMXX_6opoDscVnYjV7nAuhbgXnIqR9pdnulAnl2QIBvoHzbFOfapbqTBflVa7AtnPvfSZeTbvylxOHBce3IDPW-kiVxOiyiwq6KdmC0xuh4JqshRoSwp2mMk3HNJeD6ePW6-y8FYQc/s320/DSC05526.JPG" width="320" /></a>Despite everyone saying downtown Lima is dangerous, I cabbed it down there for a quick look and found it rather pretty. I also didn't think it felt particularly unsafe, especially with the police presence in the main square. The Plaza de Armas was the heart of Pizarro's 16th C. settlement and the center of the continent-wide Spanish empire.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQzoSs3ctPdgA1veug8gSANt4bGXtE3JZtZe4Td2GheaigHo_Hl3zK5jvHIlKK8pWtP1PLu08Ol3-43ABLpLCVbvxtuUXiYM1qwWCEhUFxPdILXBJTb1HVsW31E2WjuRR_Qi1K5oBf7AM/s1600/DSC05521.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQzoSs3ctPdgA1veug8gSANt4bGXtE3JZtZe4Td2GheaigHo_Hl3zK5jvHIlKK8pWtP1PLu08Ol3-43ABLpLCVbvxtuUXiYM1qwWCEhUFxPdILXBJTb1HVsW31E2WjuRR_Qi1K5oBf7AM/s320/DSC05521.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">We arrived just in time for the changing of the guard at the Palacio de Gobierno, residence of Peru's presi- dent. It was quite an elaborate affair with a band playing as the guards goose-stepped away. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK1RDPKJknY-pCLzB7OvybF5ZtyTSY-RWAIPK7i_IT68vws6H11ZAKR5WaYU35K7a4n2eauFcJQssYeo0T9frBy05grRBrg_R2_vBeURloROc-8E6Nd8j08_LebpCTXwQBbYMpzlCsBj4/s1600/DSC05534.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK1RDPKJknY-pCLzB7OvybF5ZtyTSY-RWAIPK7i_IT68vws6H11ZAKR5WaYU35K7a4n2eauFcJQssYeo0T9frBy05grRBrg_R2_vBeURloROc-8E6Nd8j08_LebpCTXwQBbYMpzlCsBj4/s320/DSC05534.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>The Monasterio de San Francisco is also a top attraction for its bone-lined catacombs (I found it a little creepy). The library with 25,000 ancient volumes was also really interesting. They claim the way the cathedral was built protects it from earthquakes, but I still think I would prefer to be elsewhere (I had actually slept through an earthquake while in Arequipa-- an aftershock from New Zealand!)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHqVZ_vwJMeGCgoN4O6b3xKnA9wWt5e3WAd_lX5HT8FQix1JPFTCU_luB-pIgPQQ3iX4d7HYLl8jidWbWaQYKkfJ7cVzm6YE0j53cYHMqYzlgqlKG-Y4MsuzShPU5ysvwQ18XXpRjdlyY/s1600/DSC05539.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHqVZ_vwJMeGCgoN4O6b3xKnA9wWt5e3WAd_lX5HT8FQix1JPFTCU_luB-pIgPQQ3iX4d7HYLl8jidWbWaQYKkfJ7cVzm6YE0j53cYHMqYzlgqlKG-Y4MsuzShPU5ysvwQ18XXpRjdlyY/s320/DSC05539.JPG" width="240" /></a>The Plaza San Martin was also lovely surrounded by beaux arts architecture. Funny story- the statue of Madre Patria in the middle of the square portrays a llama on her head (it was meant to be a crown of flames, but apparently flames also means llama- oops!) </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Just a short walk from one square to the other (plus a McFlurry since I can't pass them up!) and it was time to head back to the safety of Miraflores for my hair appointment-- it was just like home, except I couldn't really explain what I wanted him to do (and it was WAY cheaper).</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_EIzHFXTNnedy52-NL220aXgQZziyPEiXKS11-kzaM13hD8aCEMLiDcATdZdM9IJAudIPAJoo1nqHDmdAjaLltaijA8X0ml5BpL0tT8Nl-9qbLHKS_UEvTWybyduTzrhknWmmg4ZPoTM/s1600/DSC05571.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_EIzHFXTNnedy52-NL220aXgQZziyPEiXKS11-kzaM13hD8aCEMLiDcATdZdM9IJAudIPAJoo1nqHDmdAjaLltaijA8X0ml5BpL0tT8Nl-9qbLHKS_UEvTWybyduTzrhknWmmg4ZPoTM/s320/DSC05571.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>That night we did manage to get into the Parque De La Reserva's El Circuito Magico Del Agua to see the dozen fountains all lit up, one even had a laser light show to cheesy music. It was nice, wholesome fun for the locals who played in the fountains. We even ran into the security guard from the night before-- he was very happy to see us again (I can't believe we stand out SO much!)<br />
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However, I fit right in at Gaston's new restaurant (Gaston is Peru's celebrity chef)- it was just like being in NYC.<br />
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I also felt at home at the ceviche restaurant, La Red, where I dined with Lynette before hopping on yet another overnight bus to Talara, 17 hours north of Lima.<br />
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The traffic out of Lima was maybe the worst I have seen, but luckily, like Chile, they have street performers entertaining you while stopped at red lights. In Santiago I was impressed by the juggler standing on someones shoulder, but juggling huge knives while on a unicycle trumps all!</div>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03761254329951728715noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7077756613019007351.post-41587502170342207912011-04-05T14:47:00.000-04:002011-04-05T14:47:37.179-04:00Burrrr, Bolivia<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">What other way to spend Valentine’s Day than travelling into South America’s highest, most isolated, most rugged, coldest, poorest (yet richest in natural resources), coca growing country: Bolivia.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD1csF6T_pW6OofANrnDelXdlbB9pXtgIt1WnavNbS1_-cbRWj0Y3-IpcGEDHaZ_VF7AnJ_7lr-Ft9SfE_ONpZc6HxNwm0RC1v6XzDHhQZEgpmRM2WqrBzkzqAR3VdzoxRkX3HpyRwyws/s1600/DSC04755.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD1csF6T_pW6OofANrnDelXdlbB9pXtgIt1WnavNbS1_-cbRWj0Y3-IpcGEDHaZ_VF7AnJ_7lr-Ft9SfE_ONpZc6HxNwm0RC1v6XzDHhQZEgpmRM2WqrBzkzqAR3VdzoxRkX3HpyRwyws/s320/DSC04755.JPG" width="320" /></a>Up early to join our tour and young driver Freddy in his Phillies cap, we checked out of Chile (as American) and headed for the Bolivian border and the Southwestern Circuit. The fact that it is referred to as “a circuit” makes it seem built up and well established--- erase that image from your mind! It is actually one of the harshest wilderness regions in the world, the territory of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Why did I want to go here? You’ll see. It was <strong>awesome</strong> (a word I seem to use more and more—I am beginning to worry about my 80’s flashback), even in rainy season.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizImjXnkt-7FsmPDMZkLU3gAuunEa5OYCuH7xMSLEionRNE4r3Ei_n_y9zY52-SaD2XtOs_9eVHi0912NEW9filOoZiID0Tkw9rQNO2cCgL4YH2dizISusC2t3ZGpjf4ch3hQ_XmNXX1s/s1600/DSC04740.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: left; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizImjXnkt-7FsmPDMZkLU3gAuunEa5OYCuH7xMSLEionRNE4r3Ei_n_y9zY52-SaD2XtOs_9eVHi0912NEW9filOoZiID0Tkw9rQNO2cCgL4YH2dizISusC2t3ZGpjf4ch3hQ_XmNXX1s/s320/DSC04740.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Driving past Volcan Licancabur (5960m, which you can ascend, but I chose not to- burr) we arrived at the Bolivian Border—it reminded me of the chumpy shack in Lesotho; however, the border agents were a bit savvier. Sure, they didn’t yell at me for taking a photo, but they did notice I had no Chilean exit stamp in my Irish passport. Yes, I was turning Irish to avoid the $135 fee levied on Americans (relations between the US and Bolivia are not so great based on our refusal to extradite their former president and cocaine). After a $20 bribe I had fresh stamp in my pristine Irish passport—a $115 savings!!! Look Mom, I’ve become a bargain shopper. ;-)<br />
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Our jeep of six was set (Michele and my plan didn’t exactly work as planned for the five man jeep): the kiwi couple, Liz and Kim, Michele, an Italian who never spoke (the exact same one from the cab from Calama) and a total character, British/American/Irish Nick.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Our first stop after driving into Reserva Nacional de Fauna Andina Eduardo Avaroa, a 7150 sq. km. reserve, was Laguna Blanca, the first of many lagoons colored by the minerals in the water. We were pretty impressed with this milky one, but we didn’t know what was to come. Of course, the tranquility was disturbed when Nick cursed god after realizing his camera battery was dead and there was likely no electricity up ahead- oops!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCIFPz3UwwQUzNXGI0AgzdqmQHmxiFkAPKyJC6yhCT8S0kXSIDg4SJzNG2bw2vA9afACDSHnNZs2yuL-ZkMCwD_JXJDtlb5uHD0Fu96sJ-U3JSFRd1TM5rT-ukEwj9CbBe8wMN7QVdjtU/s1600/DSC04776.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCIFPz3UwwQUzNXGI0AgzdqmQHmxiFkAPKyJC6yhCT8S0kXSIDg4SJzNG2bw2vA9afACDSHnNZs2yuL-ZkMCwD_JXJDtlb5uHD0Fu96sJ-U3JSFRd1TM5rT-ukEwj9CbBe8wMN7QVdjtU/s320/DSC04776.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Laguna Verde was far more spectacular--- green due to the high con- centration of lead, sulfur, arsenic and calcium carbonates. It was beautiful, but damn was it cold! Sadly the photos don’t really do it justice.<br />
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There was a chance to warm up at the Termas de Polques, a hot-spring nearby, but after nearly vomiting at the stench of the bathroom and the chilly air temperature, I opted against the whole thing.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyVMgmmZZUOqpl5txyLl2kE4S5n3jszcwlPWwlOT3FiQMadoZHfnMkzEj01LATCDijtbN3OyOyxLk5_o_T8h-vfSdyJBwYcmB2Zs3X3LOO3PZaswNP9oLd6mGMnCNWuqF2HM15CKVv3is/s1600/DSC04800.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: left; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyVMgmmZZUOqpl5txyLl2kE4S5n3jszcwlPWwlOT3FiQMadoZHfnMkzEj01LATCDijtbN3OyOyxLk5_o_T8h-vfSdyJBwYcmB2Zs3X3LOO3PZaswNP9oLd6mGMnCNWuqF2HM15CKVv3is/s320/DSC04800.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>We could have gotten really toasty (aka boiled) at the geyser with its bubbling mud pools if we hadn’t kept our distance. Of course, you could have jumped right in if you wanted since there are no guard rails to keep you away from a potential cave-in. At this point I confirmed that geysers aren't my thing—perhaps it is the sulfur stink?<br />
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I already mentioned it was rainy season, so no surprise we had to cut our day a bit short at the lodge (if you can call it that--- was sort of equivalent to the teahouses in Nepal, and just as cold) where we huddled under blankets stolen from other rooms for the rest of the day, with some pretty bad meals in between (wow, it is just like Nepal). It was cold, but the weight of the blankets started to become oppressive.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0SdrEQuxHGfc8h8fFCjEQ38RTQe5BRu4kxNGnepfudj9Q7dRI2dol26w1OVZTPcfo81n0FWoevgmEwSt4p4Z-bTXs7N8KmAjMaPg7aSIWpcubuyhqIwcu4euJR-p5pbiwczVHdJIpsS4/s1600/DSC04809.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0SdrEQuxHGfc8h8fFCjEQ38RTQe5BRu4kxNGnepfudj9Q7dRI2dol26w1OVZTPcfo81n0FWoevgmEwSt4p4Z-bTXs7N8KmAjMaPg7aSIWpcubuyhqIwcu4euJR-p5pbiwczVHdJIpsS4/s320/DSC04809.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>No worries, the next morning we made up for lost time at Laguna Colorado which is huge (60 sq. km.), shallow (only 80 cm.) and bright red due to the plankton and algae. The lake sediments are used to make all sorts of random things from toothpaste to aviation fuel- go figure! The best part is the thousands of flamingos who call it home- surprise, they aren’t just in warm climates. We read how they eat, but I will spare you the details that include things like hairy mandibles. Like Laguna Verde, it was much cooler in person than in photos.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMxl0OhU5Va-5SiL7ftVfUoDqxxbSITUJVxmFynlkjju7JySGTXVJ0g2GxvkmkgeRLRLlN9Mb5mj5No3jipqSSTiWNUCeLaA-MybZelBch8M6_8MZy905VqzK8KPsWLhhDE6bgJIfIpZ4/s1600/DSC04806.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: left; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMxl0OhU5Va-5SiL7ftVfUoDqxxbSITUJVxmFynlkjju7JySGTXVJ0g2GxvkmkgeRLRLlN9Mb5mj5No3jipqSSTiWNUCeLaA-MybZelBch8M6_8MZy905VqzK8KPsWLhhDE6bgJIfIpZ4/s320/DSC04806.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Nick, who was concerned he hadn’t showered, decided it was a good place to take a dip to wash his feet which got dirty since he also neglected to bring socks or closed shoes into the frigid temperatures (the t-shirt and rag wrapped around his feet were comical).<br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilgDxk7MZvgbAPqwhMKnuxJtnJoNBnpC3LWzZAiIC3bic3tDVG4WHCjiUr8VsUbhIHTTXu11T-X8gJsWdY9WJ6v6wIq3O1EfWUtNpn2a_bRKyjK2h2bfSo3ycAU6E_21M2yFeEpofq5Y4/s1600/DSC04894.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilgDxk7MZvgbAPqwhMKnuxJtnJoNBnpC3LWzZAiIC3bic3tDVG4WHCjiUr8VsUbhIHTTXu11T-X8gJsWdY9WJ6v6wIq3O1EfWUtNpn2a_bRKyjK2h2bfSo3ycAU6E_21M2yFeEpofq5Y4/s320/DSC04894.JPG" width="240" /></a>After Michele turned up from his photo session, we drove 18km. to the Stone Tree in Desierto Siloli. It was a bunch of pretty cool rock formations and had a cleanish bathroom, but we were there way too long with a tire/brake issue (so glad we paid extra for the company that claims to maintain their vehicles). I didn’t have much faith after all the banging, but Freddy had us racing through the desert again (which is good since there is NOTHING out here and no mobile reception!) </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div>I said it was cold. I said the terrain varied. But come on--- snow!!!!!! It is summer!!!!!!!! Apparently there was also some danger, but we couldn’t decipher this sign with the dead animal- thoughts?<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbUzQT8SocJluMiJxQDEWj1tOz8CHid9bSGC3MTYsXA1zZgaR-2spttQebB04fL_MEooMnoLG2hgQqSwxc9IPnb5wTs_W8h9wu8jENUO3PCMYzPJtuYSGBdIOyp4OEWOs2-IFEj7BeoKk/s1600/DSC04916.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: left; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbUzQT8SocJluMiJxQDEWj1tOz8CHid9bSGC3MTYsXA1zZgaR-2spttQebB04fL_MEooMnoLG2hgQqSwxc9IPnb5wTs_W8h9wu8jENUO3PCMYzPJtuYSGBdIOyp4OEWOs2-IFEj7BeoKk/s320/DSC04916.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">It was a long day in the car, but really fun driving fast through rivers and canyons, with views of lagoons, flamingos, cool rock formations and more snow-capped mountains—and we had the mud to show for it. The llama steak to end the day was unfortunately not one of the highlights (the framed glittery Jesus pictures made up for it). Perhaps things would have been better at a salt hotel, but we couldn’t stay in one since the salt gets mushy (aka dangerous) in the rainy season. </div><br />
The best was most definitely saved for last. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilkBpo6-dc9QhASUTfplOWmC9e2LPuZuv5Jzwv4hhm78K3-X9MOiW_cPtiY3wyzJejh1OCggwTfl690g2UrbM9wOFZo8tc_Q67KDVmqNr4hQIe4VAT0JAFtKdnPnQWko0Wh7-MW60_Gt8/s1600/DSC04940.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilkBpo6-dc9QhASUTfplOWmC9e2LPuZuv5Jzwv4hhm78K3-X9MOiW_cPtiY3wyzJejh1OCggwTfl690g2UrbM9wOFZo8tc_Q67KDVmqNr4hQIe4VAT0JAFtKdnPnQWko0Wh7-MW60_Gt8/s320/DSC04940.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>First a brief stop at the train cemetery, a decaying collection of old steam locomotives and cars, which you can climb all over since again there are no safety regulations in Bolivia. I didn’t see the point really, but it was quick.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCyxur4sPcP3ysp4DQOZubQHozLv85CZPa6lBBJ4p6MqcbtjRZAUicMvztLgzA0Ib3L4-sEIA55hjmToOUuV054-eTFbEsRRxAG_vDX6JGGZGkReZWuGRn7W2F3MF0Id2WrcwZTQv8B-I/s1600/DSC04965.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: left; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCyxur4sPcP3ysp4DQOZubQHozLv85CZPa6lBBJ4p6MqcbtjRZAUicMvztLgzA0Ib3L4-sEIA55hjmToOUuV054-eTFbEsRRxAG_vDX6JGGZGkReZWuGRn7W2F3MF0Id2WrcwZTQv8B-I/s320/DSC04965.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>The real treat was the Salar De Uyuni- the world’s largest salt flat at over 12 THOUSAND sq. km. and producer of 20,000 tons of salt per year! When it is dry it is apparently just white, blue sky and you. I can’t imagine it is better than the day we had with a couple inches of water and blue skies--- one of the best sites in 11 months!!!<br />
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There is literally no horizon. It appears like you can see forever and are floating, with the clouds and mountains perfectly reflected in the water. Super cool. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjApnCw2NPPc0d7b30XyGfmeYQoJGlR2CBNNbIlq0xWdIafze96kWkizS9EGK5W-q3uKIQdTxku_hQgzw9ClmDDeSNrnIPSmYaRbRZLrauoXqrAbaXy9rPO6XVfBc46KzGGHT4w_9dry3Q/s1600/DSC05044.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjApnCw2NPPc0d7b30XyGfmeYQoJGlR2CBNNbIlq0xWdIafze96kWkizS9EGK5W-q3uKIQdTxku_hQgzw9ClmDDeSNrnIPSmYaRbRZLrauoXqrAbaXy9rPO6XVfBc46KzGGHT4w_9dry3Q/s320/DSC05044.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>We drove out onto the water/salt and played around for a bit. Yes, this seemed like the ideal time to do cartwheels. Cool picture. Not cool that I am now covered in salt for my overnight bus ride to La Paz. That was shortsighted. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZAYy6bKMRj08Qke7v2FeJocnbGKyEMECKzWiaJbjYK1qZyt8Sewy8o940ez32CdJBJkb6T1Ge1dLB9kVPhvnUzurbQ5WySL5g-vpWubv5iUNE18zuUB0KtXscrcyzzk8CIp3QtKfSL2A/s1600/DSC05076.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: left; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZAYy6bKMRj08Qke7v2FeJocnbGKyEMECKzWiaJbjYK1qZyt8Sewy8o940ez32CdJBJkb6T1Ge1dLB9kVPhvnUzurbQ5WySL5g-vpWubv5iUNE18zuUB0KtXscrcyzzk8CIp3QtKfSL2A/s320/DSC05076.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>A little further out and there was a structure made of salt where we grabbed a beer and took a thousand more pictures, where I am proud to be temporarily Irish (I bummed it off a few guys). <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP8KhBZnrn2JeAY66-lE9ktOiWfB9sjsjQs3Z9yzD6g-_n5LPW5MNGyWteX-VL53QmVnqxd8TeSfZeDUioRcRdY93R0rO_S09KlWOtT7itaDn29ETGKIzt6qTc7dPmfEjYDGbs_cktxdc/s1600/DSC05084.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP8KhBZnrn2JeAY66-lE9ktOiWfB9sjsjQs3Z9yzD6g-_n5LPW5MNGyWteX-VL53QmVnqxd8TeSfZeDUioRcRdY93R0rO_S09KlWOtT7itaDn29ETGKIzt6qTc7dPmfEjYDGbs_cktxdc/s320/DSC05084.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Now I only had time for a few beers with my new friends in Uyuni’s town square, dodging dirty water balloons the kids were throwing in prep for the upcoming festival, before the dreaded overnight bus. Another Nick-ism--- he lost his sunglasses which were conveniently on his face at the time--- too funny!<br />
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I have been on a lot of buses, but despite the Jesus painting on the back, this was THE WORST trip of my life. First, I had the worst seat- the middle seat of five in the last row. The road was so bad that you were violently tossed from side to side when the bus sped through the bumps within the bumps. Then we arrived in La Paz and I thought this may have been a mistake. <br />
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Lucky for me, Nick took the ride to La Paz so I had continued entertainment.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzklQj7FPs4D6sdCkX7_BOagjtJ4IniXc7THYE2B6qdHXRlhldPT46V_uSXZwZjeWGzsK3LwVV0v_nFEUPH3AOJ8QKfOQfLiWnax7571Ibsi0LkKlJbEXEpbX3tUv0aMl9Gbwne-pimyc/s1600/DSC05144.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzklQj7FPs4D6sdCkX7_BOagjtJ4IniXc7THYE2B6qdHXRlhldPT46V_uSXZwZjeWGzsK3LwVV0v_nFEUPH3AOJ8QKfOQfLiWnax7571Ibsi0LkKlJbEXEpbX3tUv0aMl9Gbwne-pimyc/s320/DSC05144.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>La Paz feels very different from Chile or Argentina, much less cosmopolitan and more exotic with the women dressed in their indigenous clothes. It is also super high at 3660m—I had been at altitude for a few days but I was still out of breath doing anything here and it didn’t help that the entire city is built on hills. Interestingly, unlike the US, the higher up the hills the greater the poverty--- I guess at least they have a good view. I didn’t appear anyone was rolling in money, but they were for the most part really nice. <br />
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I liked it! <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYyd4daLNhrAJQM-JoQzMo9BvEruQKbUnc6bMVgE2aO-YYMd_C4pkssZx1Cki7TPFLYhtVIu3cWI00iq7mb7pJ-_uW9LIBTQbbgkTRNAB3lyk4MlyNlzM1gKazOBp0tdrOCFZ0Tspxdpc/s1600/DSC05126.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYyd4daLNhrAJQM-JoQzMo9BvEruQKbUnc6bMVgE2aO-YYMd_C4pkssZx1Cki7TPFLYhtVIu3cWI00iq7mb7pJ-_uW9LIBTQbbgkTRNAB3lyk4MlyNlzM1gKazOBp0tdrOCFZ0Tspxdpc/s320/DSC05126.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Despite rumors, it also felt pretty safe, but perhaps that is because there are armed police everywhere since they have protests non-stop. We ran into a protest while there and it was amusing when Nick jumped in with the leaders for a photo op.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu32Q_I8bLsl0J2EMYjvA-gsPHcbqsL1gDpXXedLeVAq9oJcvzSaBopFzjTpDN7xNBVyLnWlBRDSRBVz8YnpWsRXw-qXIQGdtAMfvO-_eiMu1qpqkk-5lfxyR-vrxvk7OgydG40V5P3cU/s1600/DSC05111.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: left; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu32Q_I8bLsl0J2EMYjvA-gsPHcbqsL1gDpXXedLeVAq9oJcvzSaBopFzjTpDN7xNBVyLnWlBRDSRBVz8YnpWsRXw-qXIQGdtAMfvO-_eiMu1qpqkk-5lfxyR-vrxvk7OgydG40V5P3cU/s320/DSC05111.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>It is really just a place to wander the narrow streets and get a sense of the vibe, unfortunately most of the time in the rain. We hit the witches market and saw the dried llama fetus (for good luck if building a house), saw the plazas (full of pigeons- gross!) and cathedrals, hit the gold museum and enjoyed our time at the Coca Museum. Other than that it was all shopping (it is SO cheap here) and aimless taxi rides in search of restaurants—the duck at La Guingette was so worth it and I got way better at giving directions in Spanish and reading maps.<br />
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Although tempted, caution prevailed and I did not bribe my way in San Pedro Prison (actually I was never tempted) or bike down the most dangerous road (which I do regret, but they highly discouraged doing it in rainy season).<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2d_PgRem5tMFahRT-G8gGvRtuQN_RvC-LLshbBOB6jCoZKy2cvF-JxEG8IQEmCf9foieyVNWIlKrCqrNLVrJWhpAiTqA8as19QnMiJvLEpuvQgZVbfl9bDn4GsSD3WNolBpkD8p8vDeo/s1600/DSC05217.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2d_PgRem5tMFahRT-G8gGvRtuQN_RvC-LLshbBOB6jCoZKy2cvF-JxEG8IQEmCf9foieyVNWIlKrCqrNLVrJWhpAiTqA8as19QnMiJvLEpuvQgZVbfl9bDn4GsSD3WNolBpkD8p8vDeo/s320/DSC05217.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Copacabana on Lake Titicaca was the last stop. It is the world’s largest high altitude lake at 8400 sq. km. and sits between Peru and Bolivia. The bus there was fairly mundane, except for the part where we had to get off and take a boat across while the bus was ferried across on an old wooden boat. It was not until after we were back aboard that they told us a few buses have capsized recently- oy, Bolivia!<br />
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Copacabana isn’t much to look at, especially not when you are trapped in a restaurant by hail. It is summer, right? It was okay, I made friends with a few fellow travelers, one of whom looked like Santa and gave me a quick tour around town. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBE7QB3Dxk_M7KiA6GPdKMqisf1Tx2IsCw5qWjZMWaxCgS-l2OjJ03bPncJO1BQodthW2PIk7YWeE7Wg8u91rrISTx6fl8W1fnU7UQkcKehMT__iMtNQhAlhLoLM9dcdZ8STwdYJklncI/s1600/DSC05154.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: left; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBE7QB3Dxk_M7KiA6GPdKMqisf1Tx2IsCw5qWjZMWaxCgS-l2OjJ03bPncJO1BQodthW2PIk7YWeE7Wg8u91rrISTx6fl8W1fnU7UQkcKehMT__iMtNQhAlhLoLM9dcdZ8STwdYJklncI/s320/DSC05154.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>The tour basically consisted of the market and the cathedral where it seemed we just missed the blessing of the auto- mobiles. Yes, people come from all around with their cars decorated in flags, flowers, garland, etc. for their blessing by alcohol. It actually smelled of cheap beer, but hey they can use all the help they can get on these roads.<br />
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The Cathedral’s claim to fame- it houses the Camarin de la Virgen de Candelaria statue which was carved by the Inca Tupac Yapanqui’s grandson and is never moved since it is believed to prevent Lake Titicaca from flooding. <br />
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There were a few walks, but the walk to my hotel made my lungs about explode, so I skipped them.<br />
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That only left a day trip to Isle del Sol, yes, the birthplace of the sun! And yes, it was sunny- yay! <br />
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After a 2 ½ hour boat ride I was dropped at the northern end of the island and hooked up with three med students for the 9km hike south. We had 4 hours to get there which is plenty of time- ehhh, as it turned out maybe not. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL8X7xJh79l371v8QPy3_f6wFERghU-dWZ36FbOEeoKRgGVPHWBzLLDFUwgfuwaiGWW_8nVVHhiSydBq28UFh-fw0esr9Y49THP8cHnlbQHdooL5ROqbIeMB6eTo1kri4dfGtWYVFf484/s1600/DSC05181.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL8X7xJh79l371v8QPy3_f6wFERghU-dWZ36FbOEeoKRgGVPHWBzLLDFUwgfuwaiGWW_8nVVHhiSydBq28UFh-fw0esr9Y49THP8cHnlbQHdooL5ROqbIeMB6eTo1kri4dfGtWYVFf484/s320/DSC05181.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>After about 45 minutes we came to the Chincana Ruins and the Palacio del Inca, a ceremonial table and rocks that were supposed to resemble a puma, but I couldn’t see it; a good precursor to Machu Picchu and some spectacular views of the lake. Those Incas were pretty clever! <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG_XXmtxqmAU9Qaj0PFJ1ww9JpwY7KhGTmIBfZbKbS1mph9726_xgeiXHoJzy2CwxZZA_78DpygFENrBPnnhO1IPzqF5zKaqiaomePyRJWjFbRYq81YyigWGcoAegpdVomu4fbqsWDnRg/s1600/DSC05195.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: left; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG_XXmtxqmAU9Qaj0PFJ1ww9JpwY7KhGTmIBfZbKbS1mph9726_xgeiXHoJzy2CwxZZA_78DpygFENrBPnnhO1IPzqF5zKaqiaomePyRJWjFbRYq81YyigWGcoAegpdVomu4fbqsWDnRg/s320/DSC05195.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>The rest of the hike was along the ridge path to Yamani, over the ancient terraces which are still cultivated, smelling the lovely incense brush and running into an occasional alpaca. All in all, a really nice day, even if it was much harder than expected as we raced to get back for the return boat.<br />
<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div></div>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03761254329951728715noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7077756613019007351.post-56050903075582695202011-03-26T23:52:00.000-04:002011-03-26T23:52:03.382-04:00Sand, With Water Or Without<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkEFIYvEJrxxqFtzu0e-cFfyJ22ZWA-a39tZFCVSVpCTk4ELN59zyQA5E5NBGU8PDBEIP8HA6D2KpdWEI3QSPyteoZ0o_TBpLpHx-NI6TE68rnUzWuCxBcUoiTzKZLdjSxNYsL8asOQ8g/s1600/DSC04449.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkEFIYvEJrxxqFtzu0e-cFfyJ22ZWA-a39tZFCVSVpCTk4ELN59zyQA5E5NBGU8PDBEIP8HA6D2KpdWEI3QSPyteoZ0o_TBpLpHx-NI6TE68rnUzWuCxBcUoiTzKZLdjSxNYsL8asOQ8g/s320/DSC04449.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>After saying goodbye to Harry on the Santiago Metro, I had a few more stops before arriving at the bus station with hopes of catching a bus to Pichilemu, a small fishing and surfing village about 3 ½ hours southwest of Santiago.<br />
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Terminal Alameda was a bit of a monkey house, but shockingly I stumbled upon the two bus companies servicing the route after a few twists and turns through the crowds (without whacking anyone with my backpack amazingly). I should have learned my lesson from Argentina, but of course I didn’t since the other lesson of the last 11 months is that things just happen to work out.<br />
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Okay, so I can’t get the express bus. Oh, I have to wait <strong>hours</strong> for the next slow bus with a seat. Ugh! Wait, a wave from the man at Pullman del Sur and the driver who will take me on the 4:15 bus (even though it’s 4:25 now). He even escorted me to the bus and gave me seat 2, which may have been the helper’s seat since he wasn't as welcoming. <br />
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The bus wasn’t great since it had no AC, but I was still thankful they let me on since the later ones would have been just as hot. I also learned what the women on the side of the road sell (Harry and I couldn't figure it out)- all sorts of baked goods; it is the strangest system as they sell their goods on the bus and then get off wherever when they are finished, somehow making it home at the end of the day. Seems to work for them, maybe we should start selling pastries at toll booths?<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieQSDyLhQdBIlfSVws2qsdn14Pd1QTjAwZzH9pruFQkgJ2gPtOZ16E7mQh_QqB9MdOhgN9U-Jlgyjh_rj-7O2b4oe1vCAy2S-jXUOiG3qinb4FZ0gphRgCf0rczod_zr45pP6KDOBcWN8/s1600/DSC04541.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieQSDyLhQdBIlfSVws2qsdn14Pd1QTjAwZzH9pruFQkgJ2gPtOZ16E7mQh_QqB9MdOhgN9U-Jlgyjh_rj-7O2b4oe1vCAy2S-jXUOiG3qinb4FZ0gphRgCf0rczod_zr45pP6KDOBcWN8/s320/DSC04541.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>After 5 ½ hours I arrived at Pichilemu's Natural Surf Lodge which is super nice. I was warmly greeted by Martin, his wife and Manu, their bulldog, and quickly got into the laid back beach vibe. <br />
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It was a pretty quiet weekend with just me and David, a lovely Brit with a bad back. <br />
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The plan was to spend a week surfing and learning Spanish, so I first had to meet Chris (originally from Ohio) at Pichilemu Language Institute to take my placement test. He then nicely pointed out all the good places in town and sent me on my way for $3.50 fish and seafood ceviche on the beach (near the trailer washed up at a strange angle by the recent tsunami), fresh off the fishermen’s boat. Yum!!!!!! <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbQdi0QxjPEoaaRuMRyWdWP7PZ20n6if9iko-w73FNaNG7Xa2pN21JV8Gr9vAIxs6lYiJcWhq4cR291_BMbBczJng02UWIPCMTqZBOne7TDdtbTS9t3o1tDUzb-heyjR5tYqubzigPF9s/s1600/DSC04525.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbQdi0QxjPEoaaRuMRyWdWP7PZ20n6if9iko-w73FNaNG7Xa2pN21JV8Gr9vAIxs6lYiJcWhq4cR291_BMbBczJng02UWIPCMTqZBOne7TDdtbTS9t3o1tDUzb-heyjR5tYqubzigPF9s/s320/DSC04525.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>I was slightly intimidated to surf on Sunday when the place was super crowded so instead walked the 2km down beach to watch people who know what they are doing at Punta de Lobos-- Chile’s most consistent, long left break (it seemed like people rode that wave for 10 minutes). <br />
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My primary mission of the day was to get the TV working to watch the Superbowl, which is so not the same in Spanish, without the commercials and yummy food and alone. A few Americans checked in mid game, so that was a little better and I was so happy Green Bay won- take that Farve!<br />
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With the start of the week it was time I motivated, now with my new amigos Jackie and Louis who joined me for lessons and the 4km bike ride to and from school (on pretty crappy bikes that Louis did his best to fix). Awh, so cute biking to school! :-) <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzzgRQRzuIh9gBBnczGQ5GO5OiLcBIE9KdDxJFhK_UOb55C64j-iUKSHbAsd8TYFP-dwd4lNUv_uDwGVScHTXnJjWGzWX99z3-wk_mV6baSAOqwhRsDC0-szWOwAZLp5Txa21v0JfsAow/s1600/DSC04505.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzzgRQRzuIh9gBBnczGQ5GO5OiLcBIE9KdDxJFhK_UOb55C64j-iUKSHbAsd8TYFP-dwd4lNUv_uDwGVScHTXnJjWGzWX99z3-wk_mV6baSAOqwhRsDC0-szWOwAZLp5Txa21v0JfsAow/s320/DSC04505.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Day 1 went pretty well. The Spanish lesson wasn’t so bad and I was feeling pretty confident even though the Chileans are impossible to understand (and people told me the Argentines talked funny). Our surf lesson with Ulysses was also pretty good, even if La Puntilla was super crowded and I feared I was going to crash into someone. Ulysses also enjoyed himself with my waterproof camera; perhaps that is why he didn’t really teach us so much? <br />
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Day 2 was still okay- a lot of what Rosetta Stone thought would just sink in now made sense.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV_-G2mQtHcEgJO60Pu01-SSW_aVDH4Uw87mE26ESbv-Yp6nawqGo8uEEfSJu05VVj2trkOtl6rFmlcaM8lqQGuhuXNAtIMa1-4c48ygkcZUr5uOjGOqBs9gg4L8Y7C9fOJlHdMnRrQik/s1600/DSC04523.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV_-G2mQtHcEgJO60Pu01-SSW_aVDH4Uw87mE26ESbv-Yp6nawqGo8uEEfSJu05VVj2trkOtl6rFmlcaM8lqQGuhuXNAtIMa1-4c48ygkcZUr5uOjGOqBs9gg4L8Y7C9fOJlHdMnRrQik/s320/DSC04523.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Day 3 was a little downhill- future tense and getting a little brain overload, but not terrible. It was all forgotten once I ate the best empanada <u>ever</u> baked in the backyard of a shop with adobe ovens, rejuvenating my spirits for our solo surf venture to the far waves of La Puntilla away from the crowds with our Danish lodge mate, Simon.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSw963EKdNyp0ZiAnMulhwYQtJpEzuPuN4TMLwPjq2BA7SpMneqSpkJQsj4V4rCA5qubVmq0rQbS-dVihik2QlwCmXFkkjJ2_kWHr0tO3JJ79YhzcNCgelqUwk0tgEc5_iwN6inUOAFzA/s1600/DSC04512.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSw963EKdNyp0ZiAnMulhwYQtJpEzuPuN4TMLwPjq2BA7SpMneqSpkJQsj4V4rCA5qubVmq0rQbS-dVihik2QlwCmXFkkjJ2_kWHr0tO3JJ79YhzcNCgelqUwk0tgEc5_iwN6inUOAFzA/s320/DSC04512.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>This was also a little less successful since some of the waves were terrifyingly big for my beginner status and those in between weren’t strong enough to surf. The first attempt was at least amusing (it took a while to get all the way back to shore, followed by a long walk back to where you paddle out), but after a few dunks in the washing machine and frozen feet I had about enough. <br />
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A trip to the market looking for something to eat and a bottle of good, cheap Chilean wine would thaw me. OMG, this supermarket was insanity, but they had chips and salsa!<br />
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Day 4 was flat out not good; perhaps wine doesn’t help my Spanish comprehension? My back was killing me from surfing (am I too old to start?) and Spanish class was totally discouraging (past tense today). Why are there so many exceptions? Do words really need to have a gender? Too much info to digest! <br />
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But I was a glutton for punishment and decided I couldn’t leave without surfing at the famous Punta de Lobos. Another mediocre lesson on a soft board (which I hate). I was about to quit in frustration due to the board, but then really quit when said board whacked me in the nose. Perhaps this really is not my sport???<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ6nRQ5jLBqjIceJNVSvgqeARjBLopbGT5cYuOHbwc8-G2rR25XB39at18fzSeVQ3Di80hOjNSkqJzOeebiE2FHvUHLaGO6GdwouvPXVBlw_U0Y_RLjTzEQ68GzXLEa3RcqnfGn0yhDPc/s1600/DSC04528.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ6nRQ5jLBqjIceJNVSvgqeARjBLopbGT5cYuOHbwc8-G2rR25XB39at18fzSeVQ3Di80hOjNSkqJzOeebiE2FHvUHLaGO6GdwouvPXVBlw_U0Y_RLjTzEQ68GzXLEa3RcqnfGn0yhDPc/s320/DSC04528.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>To recuperate a bunch of us from Natural Surf Lodge went to the best place in Pichilemu for Pisco Sours at sunset. It was a fun night out with Ryan and Val from Australia, Simon, Louis and Jackie. Too bad we declined the surf shops offer to pick us up in their VW van for their late night beach party.<br />
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Last day in Pichilemu! Last Spanish class before heading back to Santiago. Needless to say, at this point I was pretty frustrated and just kinda gave up. My brain hasn’t been in school for ages and it was probably too much to cram all that grammar into vacation brain in one week. Oh well!<br />
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Damn, again I should have booked a bus ticket in advance- will I ever learn! Same story, long bus ride, but this time they gave me about 10 minutes to hoof it to the bus stop--- ouch, my cramping calves!<br />
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Santiago was easy this time since I knew exactly how to get from A to B on the Metro and even found a place that served cheese fries which I haven’t had since I left home (and they were pretty tasty). If only I could find somewhere to sleep in San Pedro de Atacama where I was flying early the next morning on Sky (their maybe questionable, but way cheaper airline). <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBDb1TaPQ4aqxnHkj5vEN1TbHzvO29GORBHv7QPM57kTAuDUkv4MmEY9wFL6L-5ctJRjeoRiwIJW7C5Ue9ymvFUvJBK6Z5QubhdAhKyLTom-XAsuoLz37XwwjezEp6rWKhUSa2uaIdRsg/s1600/DSC04616.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBDb1TaPQ4aqxnHkj5vEN1TbHzvO29GORBHv7QPM57kTAuDUkv4MmEY9wFL6L-5ctJRjeoRiwIJW7C5Ue9ymvFUvJBK6Z5QubhdAhKyLTom-XAsuoLz37XwwjezEp6rWKhUSa2uaIdRsg/s320/DSC04616.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>A third of Chile’s length is actually desert, the driest desert in the world in fact. According to Frommer’s, NASA has conducted Mars experiments here since the sand is so red, dry and totally devoid of life. <br />
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Upon arrival in Calama I had every intention of grabbing the shuttle to San Pedro. Ah, sold out- really! Luckily there were three other slackers, two Brazilians and an Italian who never spoke, with whom I shared a taxi for the hour drive through the desert. The driver had no idea where the guesthouses were once we arrived, but eventually I found my way.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfEJO18mO1mErC_ZxegnI_gp4U60xQual-l8NB2GYokIfEZJyXFWFxBFJwpSYTqcmSqU8kLsGmB2zx1vfNTPWXhswLH-pAbvzEL4B3L7giXiFV3GCqyMB1ZI0io74BjQUI07qyNvI1f1A/s1600/DSC04554.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfEJO18mO1mErC_ZxegnI_gp4U60xQual-l8NB2GYokIfEZJyXFWFxBFJwpSYTqcmSqU8kLsGmB2zx1vfNTPWXhswLH-pAbvzEL4B3L7giXiFV3GCqyMB1ZI0io74BjQUI07qyNvI1f1A/s320/DSC04554.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>San Pedro de Atacama is a dusty oasis town with a couple streets lined with adobe houses, located on the Tropic of Capricorn. For the most part the town is just a bunch of restaurants and tour operators catering to tourists, but there were a few interesting spots in the old square (which had Wi-Fi amazingly!):<br />
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• Archaeological Museum with a collection of pre-Columbian artifacts including a lot of tablets for hallucinogenics, hummmm. They were also supposed to have a “Miss Chile” mummy and deformed skulls but damned if I could find them.<br />
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• The Church of San Pedro, a pretty adobe church from colonial days and a national monument in Chile.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZHpte_aJz8PEODjjpm28NTPhZRgiEi-hxqqBkYaeSAA3H_6CdI-bqoIb1jdU2_q5igtb9jgFvn2ABGQDP8K9GPw6k9MXzwjC7xJ-IAu349RM9uKFRmzqL0SfSQy18GIkPWZqfOB80ARw/s1600/DSC04556.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZHpte_aJz8PEODjjpm28NTPhZRgiEi-hxqqBkYaeSAA3H_6CdI-bqoIb1jdU2_q5igtb9jgFvn2ABGQDP8K9GPw6k9MXzwjC7xJ-IAu349RM9uKFRmzqL0SfSQy18GIkPWZqfOB80ARw/s320/DSC04556.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>• A house of Pedro de Valdivia, built by Francisco de Aguirre in 1540, which was of particular interest to me since I was in the middle of Isabelle Allende’s book about Pedro and his mistress. It could use a new roof.<br />
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While in town I did want to hit a few tours. <br />
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The first was with Space for a tour of the stars using the largest diameter telescope available to the public in South America. Too bad the tour was canceled due to cloud cover since people the following night saw Saturn. And now I would probably know how to find the Southern Cross (thanks again Andy!). <br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja-C9ZpD3YQO6A3lEykMbrXWAiVrTmNEDY8uRt3NvVHskwNCe3Njap2GvSphefe0Cmnuv_5z2Vurn9pD1VyelKavDIBCXkr6UkD-JIqsv31JQufwN-4CxyJ_0wgv_RgurEnm8dTvrVlcY/s1600/DSC04572.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="235" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja-C9ZpD3YQO6A3lEykMbrXWAiVrTmNEDY8uRt3NvVHskwNCe3Njap2GvSphefe0Cmnuv_5z2Vurn9pD1VyelKavDIBCXkr6UkD-JIqsv31JQufwN-4CxyJ_0wgv_RgurEnm8dTvrVlcY/s320/DSC04572.JPG" width="320" /></a>It was okay; coin- cidentally Michele, who I met in Montenegro last July, happened to arrive that night so I had someone to meet for pizza and beer at the #1 rated restaurant, Adobe (cute place, ok pizza).</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div>Michele and I did manage to leave on an afternoon trip to the Valle de la Luna (thanks to a lovely woman who called all over to get us spaces).<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY-zm7QVKe76XTKoeVvo6zWUOmDuh774Qk4jnQfkHq7MIKBPc1I5UtclTIR5DSKOc1-s3oE_G17abZjSkbsM1BPB8YkTRi7ODRg8cHuKapMNCYU0NIB3It9R3o2IbVmgtFhXj0gyxtOBQ/s1600/DSC04687.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY-zm7QVKe76XTKoeVvo6zWUOmDuh774Qk4jnQfkHq7MIKBPc1I5UtclTIR5DSKOc1-s3oE_G17abZjSkbsM1BPB8YkTRi7ODRg8cHuKapMNCYU0NIB3It9R3o2IbVmgtFhXj0gyxtOBQ/s320/DSC04687.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>As the name suggests it is more like the surface of the moon-- wacky rock formation, huge sand dunes, canyons, areas where literally nothing lives-- all with snow-capped volcanoes in the background.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixk4mubUDqkFe5bdyzl1KRP79h4J_a8-oyI9YbAG1_nQAf_WP118WdgBclAuAPhV-K4YorfrYYEt0hLCZYpwi-QnGnFmPlw6F_FQCSggVCQyKIanu3hyifHEf6kQjJPrKVSfRSm8c9Vdk/s1600/DSC04727.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixk4mubUDqkFe5bdyzl1KRP79h4J_a8-oyI9YbAG1_nQAf_WP118WdgBclAuAPhV-K4YorfrYYEt0hLCZYpwi-QnGnFmPlw6F_FQCSggVCQyKIanu3hyifHEf6kQjJPrKVSfRSm8c9Vdk/s320/DSC04727.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>It is pretty cool seeing the desert meet the snow covered volcanoes, especially at sunset atop a giant sand dune when the mountains turn lovely shades of pink and violet. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNRdEFNsHNTzs8bUCVBa4mk9_lLudLk7VAJVsAvQQVzpwzrVWcwvGx2OmWzKBVr50RtH4VuXBw4qxDKs8XRJnlE0XHG1tH1DNt9UG6DNaAkEaH_DRiyTxEd6nJWv1V8gyS_O9CNxtUBzY/s1600/DSC04661.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNRdEFNsHNTzs8bUCVBa4mk9_lLudLk7VAJVsAvQQVzpwzrVWcwvGx2OmWzKBVr50RtH4VuXBw4qxDKs8XRJnlE0XHG1tH1DNt9UG6DNaAkEaH_DRiyTxEd6nJWv1V8gyS_O9CNxtUBzY/s320/DSC04661.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>The real reason for coming to San Pedro was to hook up with a tour operator for the 3-day trip to the salt flat in Bolivia. I got a little taste of what was to come while inside a salt cave in the Valley of the Moon.<br />
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Online reports of tour operators are terrible, so I did some research and then stopped by the three that seemed reputable. Cordillera Traveler won the business since they appear to compensate their staff well and reported no accidents. It was actually pretty easy to choose since the first only had two Spaniards booked (I didn’t want to spend 3 days with no English) and the other told me they were too busy to chat and I needed to come back (typical quality service). <br />
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All to do now was stock up on some snacks, grab another empanada and hit the hammock! The trip to Bolivia starts early tomorrow.</div>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03761254329951728715noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7077756613019007351.post-84441844833521073092011-03-19T18:26:00.349-04:002011-03-22T01:46:35.824-04:00More Wine Por Favor<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Success at last! The third time really is a charm. Alas, Chile!<br />
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Getting across the border was uneventful, after maybe seeing Cerro Aconcagua ("was that it?" X 10), only an hour wait and an extensive bag check for fruits and veggies. What does Argentina have that Chile doesn’t want, besides the beavers that are destroying Patagonia (oh, I forgot to mention that in the Argentina post--- so much trash talk about the beavers, how could I forget?).<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKA2ZunnK-_8gj8Ye-cqKghA3j0EHxAA2qEY3Ft64GD8iPaQCrxnf-j7kusilhEWZLQl_kpm-D81BCyXhoWDOO0tv5H-FVEvLSCa3lCTvamGLDwf9sDdK1E-omXmkYBD1MrexuajWHPnM/s1600/DSC04361.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKA2ZunnK-_8gj8Ye-cqKghA3j0EHxAA2qEY3Ft64GD8iPaQCrxnf-j7kusilhEWZLQl_kpm-D81BCyXhoWDOO0tv5H-FVEvLSCa3lCTvamGLDwf9sDdK1E-omXmkYBD1MrexuajWHPnM/s320/DSC04361.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Good thing I got across or Harry would have been wandering around Chilean vineyards all by himself. He had a very ambitious (wine) plan after all. </div><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">My first night was spent in the hip, artsy area of Bellavista with Richard (a Quebecois I met on the bus) and a $2 liter of beer on a very lively street full of plastic chairs and street drummers (and teenagers). </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">The next morning I headed over to the Hotel Orly in Providencia to meet Harry, fresh off his flight from snowy Philadelphia (he was so happy not to be shoveling).</div><br />
I found a leaflet for a free walking tour like the one in Buenos Aires so we spent the entire afternoon learning all sorts of whacking things about the city, including my favorites:<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;"><li style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnX8D9FkQdw5FjAQzRdeBNq8qUzkBjphTs00TXqUcdyEsTZWCXQK8bqHj_XT_LJh6UUSeBdBZ8XyDCLNQLqWn8WZnV1wwHGG1CCs7g1qK4yuj42RYCQXLIz4W2AhVgFdOiiwhYwU-XZss/s1600/DSC04270.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnX8D9FkQdw5FjAQzRdeBNq8qUzkBjphTs00TXqUcdyEsTZWCXQK8bqHj_XT_LJh6UUSeBdBZ8XyDCLNQLqWn8WZnV1wwHGG1CCs7g1qK4yuj42RYCQXLIz4W2AhVgFdOiiwhYwU-XZss/s320/DSC04270.JPG" width="240" /></a>They love this drink made with a peach, it's juice and wheat- not really my thing, but Richard forced it down.</li>
<li style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">On Independence Day citizens are fined if they do not hang the Chilean flag-- as if there is nothing better for the police to do.</li>
<li>Gabriela Mistral, a famous female poet was described as "not the best looking lady".</li>
<li><div style="text-align: left;">At a few coffee shops waitresses wear bikinis and take them off for one random "happy minute" per day. Still waiting on cousin Steve’s business plan for a US model!</div></li>
<li><div style="text-align: left;">Nuts 4 Nuts first started in Santiago, but didn't catch on until successful in NYC. They are much better in Chile.</div></li>
</ul><div style="text-align: left;">Of course we also saw the main attractions as well:</div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">The Plaza de Armas, founded by the Spanish conqueror Pedro de Valdivia in 1541, is a lovely spot for some chess playing with the old men or just sitting around, if you can find a bench in the shade as you wait for the walking tour (we were an hour early, oops, my fault).</li>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2oav1T3F4aVrrxBpNiqSy3TUbCCwqoC568D7NtJ6-zZdMOTMNG_-0PuLDY9KAZZz03lia0GG00RbUu76YcD2-aKFs0mQBEdzixVFI3zU1zmPF19649CVBdyKu667U347PEcpBa3Dg2GQ/s1600/DSC04260.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: right; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2oav1T3F4aVrrxBpNiqSy3TUbCCwqoC568D7NtJ6-zZdMOTMNG_-0PuLDY9KAZZz03lia0GG00RbUu76YcD2-aKFs0mQBEdzixVFI3zU1zmPF19649CVBdyKu667U347PEcpBa3Dg2GQ/s320/DSC04260.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><li style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Museo Chileno de Arte Precolombino, a well-reviewed museum full of artifacts from various regions. Harry didn’t seem all that interested, but I was pleased to charge my camera battery on the sly.</li>
<li>New York Street and the Stock Exchange housed in a lovely French-style 1917 building</li>
<li style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">The often reconstructed Cathedral Metropolitana with the opulent (aka tacky) alter</li>
<li style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">La Chascona, one of Pablo Neruda’s many bazaar homes resembling a boat. I will admit that neither Harry or I had any idea who this Nobel Prize-winning poet was and didn’t really care about the quirky home.</li>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq7aUihHuTr0fi3d9ZPoll90CCPPQxBclFo0RTjA3md_OzITsz0HsjX0KXaJBhE7Sma5H4ZBv1C5k9apeb4BEsx50AK7Pi8yG8YOiWyVdIRoo_BDlkDYzzPGPIiFGZIZJg2Y-XZHXaWrE/s1600/DSC04263.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="cssfloat: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq7aUihHuTr0fi3d9ZPoll90CCPPQxBclFo0RTjA3md_OzITsz0HsjX0KXaJBhE7Sma5H4ZBv1C5k9apeb4BEsx50AK7Pi8yG8YOiWyVdIRoo_BDlkDYzzPGPIiFGZIZJg2Y-XZHXaWrE/s320/DSC04263.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><li style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Palacio de Moneda, the Presidential office and site of the 1973 Pinochet-led coup that ousted Salvador Allende (it used to be the mint, hence the name)</li>
</ul>The day ended with some traditional Chilean food, for me the pipping hot corn casserole- pastel de choclo, while waving away the cigarette smoke. Then of course the standard argument with the taxi driver- I am not getting screwed this time!<br />
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<div></div>We had another day in Santiago to hit the sites we missed on the walking tour, like the old post office and former railway station chock full of copper (Chile is the world's leading producer of copper).<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm3sMtgO-lak9cfLPZtUCBAR8wXw3KtOWPBJBkRC1ex1FCu9ioz58m98Vnbr5plkhnH8FQwEaSVjSgbQ_cwyC3Bme-gZVDU3AL_gCjHEEW4IUDdab9J-RmZ8JM7tdQfMSloqePHt5a5XI/s1600/DSC04284.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: right; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm3sMtgO-lak9cfLPZtUCBAR8wXw3KtOWPBJBkRC1ex1FCu9ioz58m98Vnbr5plkhnH8FQwEaSVjSgbQ_cwyC3Bme-gZVDU3AL_gCjHEEW4IUDdab9J-RmZ8JM7tdQfMSloqePHt5a5XI/s320/DSC04284.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">For lunch we stopped by the 1868 Mercado Central for some mystery fish and I bought some jumbo straw- berries (that soon liquefied in the summer heat) for the long walk to Cerro San Cristobal.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div>The Andean peak rises to 2,820 ft. with great views over the city (if not for the smog you could see the mountains that surround the city) and a 72-ft. high statue of the Virgen de la Inmaculada Concepción.<br />
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<div></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcXODHXgNHqnYnRjJMBYL-yGaNNOurBJqfYHfZLoTE8BoHxDuICqOeCr2idkBN_p_rWgNtHZorQfY80H6BhRN3wWlzFUXt2zTdi-Xi1y5wkWQvJY61mLcH5OiC35BGc0Mh1se7cHKrGdc/s1600/DSC04292.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcXODHXgNHqnYnRjJMBYL-yGaNNOurBJqfYHfZLoTE8BoHxDuICqOeCr2idkBN_p_rWgNtHZorQfY80H6BhRN3wWlzFUXt2zTdi-Xi1y5wkWQvJY61mLcH5OiC35BGc0Mh1se7cHKrGdc/s320/DSC04292.JPG" width="320" /></a>The1925 funicular delighted Harry on the way up, mostly because the Papa (aka Pope) took our car. Too bad the teleférico was long closed (teleférico es cerrado!?!?!), but good thing we realized it before we walked too far downhill. </div><br />
<div></div>In fact we might as well have walked all the way down since we ended up walking the whole way to the hotel for some odd reason--- it was far! Thankfully I got a balloon along the way to distract me.<br />
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<div></div>We were then distracted by a couple of Pisco Sours, the drink of Chile (and Peru). We knew one was enough, but then got one free that put us over the edge. The waiter at the restaurant we arrived to late asked if we were “going to sleep there?” as it was getting so late. Too late for the dog that looked dead on the street—it was the pisco that made it seem a good idea to prod it with my flip flopped foot (it was indeed alive, but didn't react).<br />
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<div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7YwfLaCzzY1-hlltZ7XvK6RROpaZRtiM4DCuGJSuR6gSPvmSf10eaNtc2aqGkj6ERMHcalvjuMvT94O3GYgD2pSI-AB0NBPuKwmZSDZAWIa5HT_GhFONrAMaipJY-L6dI28ngWo3003g/s1600/DSC04299.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7YwfLaCzzY1-hlltZ7XvK6RROpaZRtiM4DCuGJSuR6gSPvmSf10eaNtc2aqGkj6ERMHcalvjuMvT94O3GYgD2pSI-AB0NBPuKwmZSDZAWIa5HT_GhFONrAMaipJY-L6dI28ngWo3003g/s320/DSC04299.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>Overall I would say Santiago is a much nicer city than I expected as no one really talks of it very fondly. It has lots of nice parks, is clean, has some decent restaurants and some nice buildings, even if most of the old ones have been destroyed by their frequent earthquakes. It doesn’t have the energy of a Buenos Aires, but I still really liked it.<br />
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Another thing to like is that you can take the metro to vineyards in the Maipo Valley! Sure, we left the hotel with no addresses or phone numbers, so no surprise it was not the smoothest excursion, but we made it.<br />
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Cousiño-Macul was our first Chilean vineyard and coincidentally the first vines to be planted in Chile in 1546. The grounds of the family owned vineyard were lovely and the tour good, but the tasting was a little miserly for the price. I hate when they talk up their good wine and then serve you something else.<br />
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At Concha y Toro, Chile's largest and best known winery, we blew off the tour and just had a couple glasses and a cheese plate at their restaurant. A much better idea!<br />
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Harry <em>really</em> wanted to go to Almaviva even though the guards said it was far and the taxi would be expensive. Of course we knew better than the locals and found a driver ourselves who took us there and really tried his best to get us into the CLOSED winery. He talked us through the first gate, but couldn’t get them to open for us. We then drove through the vineyard (which appeared to be in the midst of a ghetto) to the metro--$20 poorer and now car sick!<br />
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This actually turned into a trip saving experience since Harry had originally envisioned us busing/cabbing everywhere (which would have been a disaster). The next day we had a nice rental car delivered to the hotel and hours of 80’s music to keep us entertained (perhaps Pinochet banned western music in the 80's?). Harry really wanted more of Train’s "Hey, Soul Sister" (aka the national anthem of Chile) which really did play non stop.<br />
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKUZVVFZ_IcddzdOzUXW8yOo9RQukxf6OOjQPuvbLInSbAF0ByO7oZAf1ApxCxKkejfp6Ert68X8ORx-ALdBrQVuJju4zTQxC12FeFg51zVb9iMVmnsGX3bHwVeLY6O7ryqHdUFvnxFMg/s1600/DSC04333.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKUZVVFZ_IcddzdOzUXW8yOo9RQukxf6OOjQPuvbLInSbAF0ByO7oZAf1ApxCxKkejfp6Ert68X8ORx-ALdBrQVuJju4zTQxC12FeFg51zVb9iMVmnsGX3bHwVeLY6O7ryqHdUFvnxFMg/s320/DSC04333.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>When I saw the refugio in Cajón del Maipo I was baffled that we ever considered taking the public bus to El Morado National Park in the Andes. We avoided a lot of bitching. <br />
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Don’t misunderstand, there was still a lot of bitching since we embarked on our trip around Chile with no map! Amazingly we managed to find our way through a detour and eventually onto the dirt road that led us to Refugio Lo Valdés and a warm greeting by the manager, Andy.<br />
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Andy in fact was a total jerk and cause of many laughs. He was flat out insulting at times and refused to show us the Southern Cross telling us to look up, that it would be obvious. It was not!<br />
<div> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXPpbrFJqEUFsRH4lIGvXAuMUCQkrmW5TD-V_Cc1acllpuq6bYmaeMsf1C_U6XwaGfvwf2h3pr-DtvbCP9Gh8kGWUKde2bP8tHPk3kv1bM3VaKbxmURSfujtcTc4Bt52-v2oVb1_bL468/s1600/DSC04353.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXPpbrFJqEUFsRH4lIGvXAuMUCQkrmW5TD-V_Cc1acllpuq6bYmaeMsf1C_U6XwaGfvwf2h3pr-DtvbCP9Gh8kGWUKde2bP8tHPk3kv1bM3VaKbxmURSfujtcTc4Bt52-v2oVb1_bL468/s320/DSC04353.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>We had a great time with Brad, Ilyana and Todd, over a lot of wine (we learned red wine pairs perfectly with girl scout thin mints, but not the “superb” pork chop), prompting Andy to ask what brought us there.<br />
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Perhaps we were a little louder than most of their climber clientele, but Todd’s story of the $240 fine they were charged for bringing in an American apple was too funny!<br />
<div> </div>Andy also sent us on a hike that he must have known was too late to start, but I don’t think Harry was too upset when the park ranger turned us away.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnpVacbyImwqBbbhyphenhyphen74_hs39SuyTdlr_jtyW7BOv5QLJSVH75CijbhXA_v9XBHJIwTUK_cficit0UBSLDB8W67bmOv4oBKeXFwYucbz37zXNoyEvu18IqRKxopj83Vl7nskKiK6AUSd4I/s1600/DSC04355.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnpVacbyImwqBbbhyphenhyphen74_hs39SuyTdlr_jtyW7BOv5QLJSVH75CijbhXA_v9XBHJIwTUK_cficit0UBSLDB8W67bmOv4oBKeXFwYucbz37zXNoyEvu18IqRKxopj83Vl7nskKiK6AUSd4I/s320/DSC04355.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Our drive to the refugio was on a Sunday, so the mine was closed. Not as lucky on the way out, we drove much of the way in a giant cloud of brown dust caused by the trucks.<br />
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We were headed to Rancagua, which we again amazingly got to despite the lack of map (just a bit of confusion). Of course the hotel staff was completely useless and couldn’t tell us anything about the area.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOEleyAeB-xScIlJLCXfJyCsD6KC5iiDMtE2RLiOhApGQhvieo4mD2SvSheeawxyulvraLRyAFYj-25AYS51DzpYR6hrZE09-zcEjUh4rfI69qQGFJ08oLFSLQtgKz6qEfTlF89SYDSQA/s1600/DSC04359.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: right; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOEleyAeB-xScIlJLCXfJyCsD6KC5iiDMtE2RLiOhApGQhvieo4mD2SvSheeawxyulvraLRyAFYj-25AYS51DzpYR6hrZE09-zcEjUh4rfI69qQGFJ08oLFSLQtgKz6qEfTlF89SYDSQA/s320/DSC04359.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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Once we got to Anakena, which was super easy to find (the hotel staff must never leave the hotel), we had a fabulous, long tasting and learned that Chile had misidentified the <span class="goog_qs-tidbit goog_qs-tidbit-0">Carménère grape</span><span class="goog_qs-tidbit goog_qs-tidbit-0"> </span>as Merlot for years, only discovering the error in 1994. Our guide even took us out into the vineyard to show us how the leaves look slightly different. Good thing they rediscovered the grape since it may be my new favorite variety.<br />
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All this driving required us at some point to get gas-- what a debacle. We had no idea how to ask for it, nor did we know how to open the gas cap-- the worker rightly laughed at us. Good thing we were better at ordering McDonalds—the golden arches guided us through the night sky. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLSTM74bIhgcUKc2JpiVZuBw0AhKFLMZV-whCj-sE1AF78efU_diI2Aw30A-wqMVg7Mv8uAdJdOgz6ivJgJqwkhWoSaynz3CsYA2KEVsq_TdxUFXAVbUZkD5jDuhyphenhyphennN1xYJqpNUq-v_GM/s1600/DSC04407.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLSTM74bIhgcUKc2JpiVZuBw0AhKFLMZV-whCj-sE1AF78efU_diI2Aw30A-wqMVg7Mv8uAdJdOgz6ivJgJqwkhWoSaynz3CsYA2KEVsq_TdxUFXAVbUZkD5jDuhyphenhyphennN1xYJqpNUq-v_GM/s320/DSC04407.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Next up, the drive to Santa Cruz and the Colchagua Valley. In my opinion this was the best valley with some good tastings in really beautiful wineries. <br />
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First up was Viu Manent for a tasting and then later lunch overlooking their on-site equestrian club (our "stalkers" from the refugio happened to be boozing it up here too! ;-) <br />
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Clos Apalta was amazing pricey, but well worth it to see the stunning $10-million, gravity-fed winery and a taste of delicious Syrah. We also met a couple from Savannah who we'd continue to run into for the next few days.<br />
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We stopped by Montes for some wine and cheese and were denied by some ninas at Las Ninas before we called it a day. <br />
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Maybe not the best idea to try to find the hostel after the wine tasting, especially since now we barely recalled the name and definitely did not have the address or map. Harry circled the main square of Santa Cruz (whose roads are a mess post earthquake) while I tried to get directions from the woman at the info booth (why are there no maps in Chile?). <br />
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The night was capped off with a fabulous dinner outside at Vina Bello where we ran into the Savannah couple for the third time that day.<br />
<div> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyyR3uH0yvhAigNmHszA3jXh_fuNntYKBy_tIBobgXuEvobVEnyu0bwgGByF00gkwbf1kNJSAijzrp6OUfph0M4UzFC-mEILF5-wrg6Huf7LwfL06o2kBSVSXAZTRhPhkVMuXMTQvSYgI/s1600/DSC04417.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyyR3uH0yvhAigNmHszA3jXh_fuNntYKBy_tIBobgXuEvobVEnyu0bwgGByF00gkwbf1kNJSAijzrp6OUfph0M4UzFC-mEILF5-wrg6Huf7LwfL06o2kBSVSXAZTRhPhkVMuXMTQvSYgI/s320/DSC04417.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Another adventure in the car and we arrived in Valparaiso, but had a much harder time finding our way around once in town with the tiny, maze-like streets.<br />
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We walked all over the city checking out the colorful buildings that climb the hill, hopping a funicular to get us back uphill. And yes, another chance run in with the Savannah couple. <br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN3LccB9zgCMKXIg_9W_ZhAgbiNK8Z_oLnTDEki795DK4MMZUOtQOxLmQZ0etXyT5Dhk6JuCJgAAWZrKZYUFN5tcJS95euGtAZ_dz8fDOHYZCqM9fFEoJwjk06o-RkrEU9Rzs53EaHuBE/s1600/DSC04431.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN3LccB9zgCMKXIg_9W_ZhAgbiNK8Z_oLnTDEki795DK4MMZUOtQOxLmQZ0etXyT5Dhk6JuCJgAAWZrKZYUFN5tcJS95euGtAZ_dz8fDOHYZCqM9fFEoJwjk06o-RkrEU9Rzs53EaHuBE/s320/DSC04431.JPG" width="320" /></a></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Since we kept running into them, we figured it best to meet for a drink overlooking the harbour. Oddly a cat jumped on my lap almost instantly and slept there for the next hour or so-- it seemed to confuse me for an animal lover. <br />
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We tried a new restaurant Bijoux which had an interesting concept of interviewing you to get a sense of what you might like--- the fish with chilies and golden berries was pretty tasty. This led us to spend a lot of time trying to figure how this concept was really sustainable-- not convinced. </div></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJWW9aYwAs-_OGqecTW0nMZDEE0ZqXwl173NpHmQST0qgrnAsy9jHQCAJhy4A7EHkWzdZD0jfOincgIlGybabZOgOlyUh_sI6ya1VKVj2-I58rdVWExd6tEHpPadvVvweq11Zs9rXS920/s1600/DSC04443.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJWW9aYwAs-_OGqecTW0nMZDEE0ZqXwl173NpHmQST0qgrnAsy9jHQCAJhy4A7EHkWzdZD0jfOincgIlGybabZOgOlyUh_sI6ya1VKVj2-I58rdVWExd6tEHpPadvVvweq11Zs9rXS920/s320/DSC04443.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
We had one more valley to hit on our drive back to Santiago and much more success navigating Valparaiso and the gas station. <br />
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Casablanca Valley was the end of our Chilean wine tour, a white wine region. This valley is most like Napa in that no reservations are required allowing you to hop from one to another (and potentially into oncoming traffic when trying to backtrack to Viñedos Orgánicos Emiliana).<br />
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I was delighted when I learned that Veramonte is affiliated with Quintessa in Napa.<br />
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We also sampled some food and wine a Casas del Bosque before my shortcut which turned into a giant loop around the area on route to Matetic where they have two winemakers that they pit against eachother (imagine there is a lot of animosity). Matetic is also organic and uses alpaca and sheep to help maintain the vineyard.<br />
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I think we about exhausted all the vineyards in Chile and had a great time doing it. I look forward to drinking lots more Chilean wine when I return to the States, especially since it is a total bargain!</div></div>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03761254329951728715noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7077756613019007351.post-75871023284252844342011-03-04T09:24:00.000-05:002011-03-04T09:24:34.389-05:00Lakes & Wine<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Ah, the bus to Bariloche-- what turned into a <u><strong>30 1/2 hour</strong></u> journey through the most mundane landscape in South America. Same, same and more of the same nothingness! Wait, there is a sheep grazing! ;-)</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">The only highlights:</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeq4H46d-dqKzpaECWorC21Z-l-01sfhqLWhquIjq3LxBNo98_WV7msagwBHLLee9IeKl8sI7a47QspfVPNChDgYKJWuWsbbqaDUEuu5AUwMxK-tav7Zjjz3ixEwKabMaE-Scj_x8lX6k/s1600/DSC04110.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeq4H46d-dqKzpaECWorC21Z-l-01sfhqLWhquIjq3LxBNo98_WV7msagwBHLLee9IeKl8sI7a47QspfVPNChDgYKJWuWsbbqaDUEuu5AUwMxK-tav7Zjjz3ixEwKabMaE-Scj_x8lX6k/s320/DSC04110.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">1) I <em>almost</em> won at Andesmar bingo. Yes, they have bingo on the bus and announce the numbers (in Spanish) using a ridiculous game show voice. My Argentine seatmate translated all the numbers for me, which really wasn't necessary, but appreciated. The winner received a bottle of wine (which you need on a 30 hour journey-- luckily I thought ahead and BYOB-ed!) </div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">2) I accidentally left my North Face jacket on the first bus, only realizing a hour later. Amazingly I was able to get it back using my limited Spanish and Google translator. I was all proud of myself after helping some Israeli guy avoid queso on his sandwich, but abrigo blanco was a tougher challenge. I gave the bus driver a big hug when he returned with it- I think he thought I was loco.</div><br />
3) The fact that I slept an unbelievable amount of the journey :-)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3RkZasQtS4tCwbgF06kpX4nOp78hZabQkIYDHXBP9c7uiNfkWhti5CtEIQUKy5F3i4tyU98NoTH2YvvW_9g0qm6CsFe2MyI5tAZBbVpjq5UUV5ujg1HHX4MlG8CVRB9cFEZlMn2aXMJ4/s1600/DSC04142.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3RkZasQtS4tCwbgF06kpX4nOp78hZabQkIYDHXBP9c7uiNfkWhti5CtEIQUKy5F3i4tyU98NoTH2YvvW_9g0qm6CsFe2MyI5tAZBbVpjq5UUV5ujg1HHX4MlG8CVRB9cFEZlMn2aXMJ4/s320/DSC04142.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">After a day on the bus (left at 4pm and arrived around 10pm the NEXT night), I was dirty and tired when I was warmly greeted with a glass of wine at 41 Below. It was thankfully a very friendly bunch in Bariloche since it poured rain the next day .</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">It was actually nice to have a down day when it was too gloomy to go hiking or biking or whatever else was on offer in the Lake District.</div><br />
One thing that was quickly discovered from Martin, yet another Aussie mate, was that the buses are again booked for days in advance. ARE YOU KIDDING ME! I just arrived and I am already stuck here-- a place I had never intended to visit. Ugh, Argentina was really starting to get frustrating!<br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiMQ3mfshR997v2zvbjBUA51O6tewAbqT2WdwYOUfZAjGki1EzDrOm-p6e4hNZQB_3pVZ6WJ7xG6k__YyZwc-h9ohhKt5tZ1gRxfByNj9hIZNHVreMizdffnJ0gict-JaMCNHOLqBBDpk/s1600/DSC04141.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiMQ3mfshR997v2zvbjBUA51O6tewAbqT2WdwYOUfZAjGki1EzDrOm-p6e4hNZQB_3pVZ6WJ7xG6k__YyZwc-h9ohhKt5tZ1gRxfByNj9hIZNHVreMizdffnJ0gict-JaMCNHOLqBBDpk/s320/DSC04141.JPG" width="240" /></a>No prob, I will just stay one extra day before attempt #2 at entering Chile for surf and Spanish lessons at the beach.<br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">In the meantime I can get some Mexican food and fulfill that craving (not the best I've had, but it's been a while so better than nothing).</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div>Although super windy, a few of us opted for a hike on 2388m Cerro Cathedral. Yes, it should have been a ride up a chairlift and walk across and down, but it was too windy so the chairlift was closed. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5g6vAE4bNp_uScPxHU6XP4XYRP9JkDkh36J73PlpPZpM_CXkRqziK8c4WjChIBN1Sh9fe-yRUfQGm3NHiIUyFZbOuTu0nlKm9OSRxilKtygte1LTHuKJbG64c9yGb7RnIKm0yXhtA9CA/s1600/DSC04126.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5g6vAE4bNp_uScPxHU6XP4XYRP9JkDkh36J73PlpPZpM_CXkRqziK8c4WjChIBN1Sh9fe-yRUfQGm3NHiIUyFZbOuTu0nlKm9OSRxilKtygte1LTHuKJbG64c9yGb7RnIKm0yXhtA9CA/s320/DSC04126.JPG" width="320" /></a>Instead Martin, Francesca (Germany), Casey (Canada) and I did the 20km round-trip hike to Refugio Frey with beautiful views of Lago Nahuel Huapi along the way. <br />
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Casey had enough sense to turn around just before it got hard, but we braved the wind for some nice views and pizza at the top with a Slovenian we happened to meet a few days earlier at 41 Below. </div><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpoiU4LIiJM1tCmeQ1_UB8OpsOAgBfeUnR9_FGt4R2qBWSGjGBv4dLX5OoMGcql-94ip6uQuT3kOqMEeWPPdBUQ1c9tlfaUsvhuQ91-tS-VBcchQUZVMnuibqoN3Ll8zw36Vp1rpgSGTc/s1600/DSC04152.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpoiU4LIiJM1tCmeQ1_UB8OpsOAgBfeUnR9_FGt4R2qBWSGjGBv4dLX5OoMGcql-94ip6uQuT3kOqMEeWPPdBUQ1c9tlfaUsvhuQ91-tS-VBcchQUZVMnuibqoN3Ll8zw36Vp1rpgSGTc/s320/DSC04152.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>The following day I was all about the Circuito Chico bike ride that everyone does around the lake. We heard it was pretty hard, so thought maybe we should take a bus to the town of Ville La Angostura and bike around Parque Nacional Los Arrayanes instead.<br />
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Oops, this bike ride is harder?<br />
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Okay, we'll take the boat there and bike back since it is easier- great!<br />
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Why does no one tell us that the boat is sold out BEFORE we bike down the huge hill that we now have to bike back up? Ugh, Argentina!!!!!!!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj3A0dwx9oPW5gkJ0MdAeNDRYOsWRb5a5V87JqgbFi8kh73EKMbqiJA8RzmbIw_6OBDJyWAo7Id8tqGQQKqN_fYGNjp3jW2G22cVMkj7-3KdyP_diODw8wHP5dvWPPb587fPiOzwBkzi4/s1600/DSC04146.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj3A0dwx9oPW5gkJ0MdAeNDRYOsWRb5a5V87JqgbFi8kh73EKMbqiJA8RzmbIw_6OBDJyWAo7Id8tqGQQKqN_fYGNjp3jW2G22cVMkj7-3KdyP_diODw8wHP5dvWPPb587fPiOzwBkzi4/s320/DSC04146.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>We made the best of it and biked to a scenic lookout which seemed hard since it turned out it was all uphill. We got back to town in no time which made us feel really lazy. At least it left time for more yummy ice cream--- I have mentioned that the ice cream in Argentina is fantastic, right?<br />
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We did have <em>another</em> moment of frustration when the next bus back to Bariloche wasn't for 5 hours, but thankfully they added a bus so we didn't have to cry!<br />
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Done with Bariloche; now for my second attempt at Chile, but first I had my thousandth tear-my-hair-out moment. (Really, in 10 months I've never been so frustrated!)<br />
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Of course it was Friday, so we had to make an ATM run before the town ran out of money-- a common problem in Argentina for some reason.<br />
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Then best to get money changed since I can foresee being stuck at the border with no Chilean Pesos and no ATM. Of course they don't change money between 1-5pm! WHAT THE F!!!!!!!!!!<br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Teetering on the edge...</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Get to the bus station and realize after some time that they don't mean Gate 5, they mean the bus is delayed until 5--- great, now I will miss all connections to Santiago. Deep breath (after again temporarily hating the country)! I can hopefully catch the midnight bus to Santiago if all goes well. <br />
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WHAT? CANCELLED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsmJfa6-YeSaRYFEAR8I2TIJq9oNyIG1tRvFgrTx5anmRG_bdvmplmFnRvDyd_sQeGEkcLmHtgz2GHPN3QXKje_A3rV87RzMCKa0THwsXg4L3Q2oXTOTULKJpRYX1-yTDXG9-6wgjrfYI/s1600/DSC04172.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: right; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsmJfa6-YeSaRYFEAR8I2TIJq9oNyIG1tRvFgrTx5anmRG_bdvmplmFnRvDyd_sQeGEkcLmHtgz2GHPN3QXKje_A3rV87RzMCKa0THwsXg4L3Q2oXTOTULKJpRYX1-yTDXG9-6wgjrfYI/s320/DSC04172.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Seriously, the only thing that prevented a full breakdown was coincident- ally hearing Fergie's "Big girls don't cry" in the bus station- I had to laugh. <br />
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It's all about flexibility! Ten minutes later I changed course and hopped on the next bus--- Mendoza it is. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div>A 20 hour journey that I wasn't really prepared for, but it was actually a nice ride along the Ruta de los Siete Lagos. <br />
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The next morning I finally arrived in toasty warm, wine country (I am following summer, but it's been cold since landing in Ushuaia)-- things could be worse!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNQ7nG5DdlPeAXeZSCXpoVK5bYkQ1RPGWjqR2YvWtHgvqmjWtjRGkI9fBgCEyNx4ZcgII36q9BKA9ur3bkZJfl0kupNL8r_hUsTlRkpjb9rY-YZbnze5eUAv-LBbSdJvn9Dk5Ijfq69vQ/s1600/DSC04178.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNQ7nG5DdlPeAXeZSCXpoVK5bYkQ1RPGWjqR2YvWtHgvqmjWtjRGkI9fBgCEyNx4ZcgII36q9BKA9ur3bkZJfl0kupNL8r_hUsTlRkpjb9rY-YZbnze5eUAv-LBbSdJvn9Dk5Ijfq69vQ/s320/DSC04178.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Sure I had to stay at a crappy place before I moved into Hostel Lao, but no big deal. Instead I spent the day with some Americans I met on the bus and at a cafe on Plaza Independencia checking out the town and a great view from a rooftop pool. (Rand from Nashville had just attempted to climb the western hemisphere's highest summit, Cerro Aconcagua, but weather was problematic leading to two fatalities.) </div>In good Domingo (Sunday) fashion, I did nothing. I have learned that NOTHING in South America is open on Sunday, so you might as well spend the entire day dozing and reading in an orange hammock.<br />
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I was pleasantly surprised to run into my Aussie mates, Nathan and Woody, from El Calafate who I joined for a movie (<em>El Tourista,</em> as they say en Espanol) and a tasty dinner. Like Calafate, Mendoza is full of dogs, one of which followed us all the way across town as we ran into a truly bazaar bachelor party, at least that is what we think it was.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVRUU4yB3gxcIAsT8FDk1MIJWbU9q5_tfGb7rQJyv22t8qRM6LrmQxY7y1aF81PBBt4adZa-FZCcEHcW6-sst2L9RZiamUyV3D_Jea3MdGOPigF5IgoAYnBoWmFcpkL6S_GK9b64enkI8/s1600/DSC04195.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVRUU4yB3gxcIAsT8FDk1MIJWbU9q5_tfGb7rQJyv22t8qRM6LrmQxY7y1aF81PBBt4adZa-FZCcEHcW6-sst2L9RZiamUyV3D_Jea3MdGOPigF5IgoAYnBoWmFcpkL6S_GK9b64enkI8/s320/DSC04195.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>It's about time I got wine tasting! Per strong recommendations, I joined an Aussie, Swede, Oregonian and Brit to bike around the vineyards of Chacras de Coria. We hit four spots:<br />
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Carmelo Patti- a family owned winery that took us a while to find since there was no sign. It was worth the effort since we met Carmelo and he was DElighful even if we didn't exactly catch everything he was saying. The wine was good too!<br />
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We then rode to Cavas de Chacras for lunch, a tour by an informative (if slightly arrogant) guide and a tasting of their lesser quality wine. I still wish we had tasted their "A" line.<br />
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Alta Vista, a larger producer, was quite a complex. The wine cellar and tasting room, complete with our guide from New Jersey, felt just like home. I was slightly disappointed to not try their highly praised Alto, but what we did try was very nice and I appreciated the complimentary tasting of dessert wine. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLEWeFnpXiKCEqasIM8zvVBIcKywD-PKzzraBZ7amVV73Ftnv0eVcmMXZfcz3NHA7eKYhbB9kyN5bjuU74RTX5tuLBAqQWT-2KLPeHmeJAg9Za52sCCBxc7qg-MoWq6H13N0E2-LisbfY/s1600/DSC04205.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLEWeFnpXiKCEqasIM8zvVBIcKywD-PKzzraBZ7amVV73Ftnv0eVcmMXZfcz3NHA7eKYhbB9kyN5bjuU74RTX5tuLBAqQWT-2KLPeHmeJAg9Za52sCCBxc7qg-MoWq6H13N0E2-LisbfY/s320/DSC04205.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Our last stop was Pulmary, another family operation that makes organic wine and pours a healthy tasting. They even let you taste right out of the tank (which are concrete here in Mendoza, interestingly).</div><br />
It was a lot of wine, but shockingly we made it back to the bike shop unscathed despite riding against the flow of traffic on a narrow street.<br />
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Funny enough, when I returned to Hostel Lao I learned that I knew everyone staying there from either wine tasting, El Calafate or Bariloche--- I know this is the 8th largest country, but it is beginning to seem pretty small ;-)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio4b3EC7pNVX15xwQtZq5fyOrFaB-CUEGMJGAVnT0P7IMXLQLAD0yEZy8P9J26PXgNEh8VZtmTXZZpiuVgpT4YrgY3yT9KG9LJm_MI_8T3A1sTFNG0rz9l83Wi4lWVY1zcGVKaOJVa59E/s1600/DSC04211.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio4b3EC7pNVX15xwQtZq5fyOrFaB-CUEGMJGAVnT0P7IMXLQLAD0yEZy8P9J26PXgNEh8VZtmTXZZpiuVgpT4YrgY3yT9KG9LJm_MI_8T3A1sTFNG0rz9l83Wi4lWVY1zcGVKaOJVa59E/s320/DSC04211.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>I had considered another day of wine tasting in a different valley, but instead Nathan and I opted for lunch at a vineyard, Nieto Senetiner. Sure, we probably spent more on the cab and lunch than we had on a few days lodging, but it was SO worth it. We LOVED it here and had the whole place to ourselves (after clearing security)!<br />
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In fact we so enjoyed the meal and bottle of Bonarda that we opted for a second bottle on the patio overlooking the beautiful grounds and mountains in the background. It was the perfect day (until they made us leave since they wanted to close!)<br />
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What a good way to end my month in Argentina. But wait, it can't possibly go smoothly.<br />
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Unbelievable- no one at the bus station would print my ticket despite the fact that they all had printers right in front of them and I offered to pay. So nice of them to offer me one last chance to lose it! ;-)<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjPBOXgXjrV8582hPJw67bNobqDiWu1k7vnsoq_LUPGAXk6wi0-BqW_2ndKLqqu8e9mvXwTBJVdul2BIKeCSSEsHRuR9gk_2bBV1I9KcbRKogdq7Fiu1PeyFRA2WoiEIGu7MtaKZAgZXw/s1600/DSC04218.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjPBOXgXjrV8582hPJw67bNobqDiWu1k7vnsoq_LUPGAXk6wi0-BqW_2ndKLqqu8e9mvXwTBJVdul2BIKeCSSEsHRuR9gk_2bBV1I9KcbRKogdq7Fiu1PeyFRA2WoiEIGu7MtaKZAgZXw/s320/DSC04218.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Once on board the bus all was good as I watched the vineyards pass by and tried to guess which mountain was Aconcagua with my Canadian bus mate. <br />
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Fingers crossed I can cross the border on my 3rd attempt!</div></div>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03761254329951728715noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7077756613019007351.post-82413168151528988012011-03-03T10:29:00.001-05:002011-03-10T21:20:27.093-05:00Picture Perfect Patagonia (Until You're Stuck)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Back in Buenos Aires for one final day <em>and night</em>. <br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I had intended to take the evening ferry from Colonia, Uruguay, but enough was enough; instead I could use the day to see the sites in BA that I missed when I slept the days away.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIzlq4WkBg3dx9TLhaeQDnzWX-0UoecyR0geryq2QHZJArXhRv_NtKgKw-fsXgo_mRu8h7qYBiJ39ran3EXsIg6A2tDKrM54INmxZXRucVX8q5ftRxUplx6ZAHmFJuccVBAxdepS359kQ/s1600/DSC03806.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIzlq4WkBg3dx9TLhaeQDnzWX-0UoecyR0geryq2QHZJArXhRv_NtKgKw-fsXgo_mRu8h7qYBiJ39ran3EXsIg6A2tDKrM54INmxZXRucVX8q5ftRxUplx6ZAHmFJuccVBAxdepS359kQ/s320/DSC03806.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">The biggest miss, Cementerio de la Recoleta, where over-the-top mausoleums house Argentina’s elite, including past presidents and Evita herself. The architecture of the sarcophagi was an equal match to the buildings outside, just splendid! Each resemble little churches, with statues, one more impressive than the next.</div><br />
On the way to the cemetery I attempted to find an English language book (since my Kindle was busted). I didn’t really find a book, but did stop by a really impressive bookstore housed in an old theater where the box seats on the side are now used as reading rooms. It was pretty cool.<br />
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A decent walk and I made it to my final destination, the Museo De Arte Latinoamericano De Buenos Aires (aka MALBA). The modern art museum is housed in a modern glass building and displays the collection of Eduardo Costantini, including Xul Solar-- an artist I was unfamiliar with but liked a lot.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJjR6zTbEIiIoeCpmj9RsFCVlDW69hUjkSQ6p_uSwY2_y1A6qxI-F3jQ9wHAOU8Q5TWccvEr5KdCk8sLAWP_OG6orWoJupjr5wU11JQscle64pkZMgmPj3tEOPngZukYH-h4gXzlB1Ffo/s1600/DSC03815.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJjR6zTbEIiIoeCpmj9RsFCVlDW69hUjkSQ6p_uSwY2_y1A6qxI-F3jQ9wHAOU8Q5TWccvEr5KdCk8sLAWP_OG6orWoJupjr5wU11JQscle64pkZMgmPj3tEOPngZukYH-h4gXzlB1Ffo/s320/DSC03815.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Now the the toss up--- stay in and get a good night sleep before my 9am flight or meet up with Ariel and Ilse one final time. Guess what won?<br />
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It was a long night!!! First I took a cab to Ariel’s place which confused the cab driver- I think he thought I was confused and kept saying “Providencia, not Capital.” Yes, I know!<br />
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After an asado (bbq with chirizo- yum!) we went to a club and danced all night to bad 80’s music and a lot of Madonna, if I remember correctly. They had me drinking Fernet, their favorite beverage which is DISGUSTING!! The place was packed all night and was great, but sadly I had to leave at 6am to catch my flight to Ushuaia. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhleyfsiZ8M2x04w1cRAHsTb73MH4ayTNGxJWlxnl_F0iCGHA7bdaoEcOtwIbRIsU7hGYuegctJJspxhn8wlRBU1-nEVp1AYNEYFWf_TjEpGSTJbcuE0txcagjB2jLrOB81bD52pIO5D3c/s1600/DSC03899.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhleyfsiZ8M2x04w1cRAHsTb73MH4ayTNGxJWlxnl_F0iCGHA7bdaoEcOtwIbRIsU7hGYuegctJJspxhn8wlRBU1-nEVp1AYNEYFWf_TjEpGSTJbcuE0txcagjB2jLrOB81bD52pIO5D3c/s320/DSC03899.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>After that night I couldn’t even remember which airport I was leaving from, luckily my great effort to come up with “domestico” worked (sometimes it works to just add an O to the English word ;-) and I made it to the right place. Check it was a bit hairy and I did ram one woman with the cart in my tipsy, sleepy stupor, but amazingly managed to check in and clear security.<br />
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Another amazing thing--- waking up <strong>4</strong> minutes before departure, perhaps a good time to board the plane? ;-)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-XAw9DNTteCrx3TCVGXZw2LgUtwPymjJV51GMRWIHAnrnIyckknsyurpGddRVhhNNbatpsDutMQ46j8bIOkQX7DGsJCcF5Wt5hDu0blzt_9nvf5RMDRkoJEZupu9A0ShHEys_fVkt9S8/s1600/DSC03858.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-XAw9DNTteCrx3TCVGXZw2LgUtwPymjJV51GMRWIHAnrnIyckknsyurpGddRVhhNNbatpsDutMQ46j8bIOkQX7DGsJCcF5Wt5hDu0blzt_9nvf5RMDRkoJEZupu9A0ShHEys_fVkt9S8/s320/DSC03858.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>I arrived in Ushuaia, a port city set between the Beagle Channel and the Martial Range—literally the bottom of the world as its southern most city. It has sort of a rugged appearance with buildings climbing the hill and ships anchored in the harbor, including those leaving for Antarctica (I thought about taking advantage of the last minute $3,500 fare but my lack of winter clothes ultimately prevented me from going).<br />
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While there I went on two excursions with Canal Fun.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimoui6lo-MKp7zyG1U55WlaE6p9xT3qfdivtuQgJOfN9bE6DhZ-u2vzM7blEgIrRvyA6Js4yWuGH6NVhtVcPWqSdDp87lVmGBmZc6jZckMiKsEaHix9VIlkwntZ8zxOhmf0vWSkx6GQEQ/s1600/DSC03870.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimoui6lo-MKp7zyG1U55WlaE6p9xT3qfdivtuQgJOfN9bE6DhZ-u2vzM7blEgIrRvyA6Js4yWuGH6NVhtVcPWqSdDp87lVmGBmZc6jZckMiKsEaHix9VIlkwntZ8zxOhmf0vWSkx6GQEQ/s320/DSC03870.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>The first was to Parque Nacional Tierra del Fuego, with our guide Valentine, where we hiked along the lakes taking in spectacular views of the Argentine and Chilean mountains (when the wind didn't blow hair in my eyes). After canoeing against some pretty strong wind (my canoe won!), we stopped at the end of the Pan-American Highway which starts in Alaska- maybe one day I will go to the northern most point?<br />
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I also sadly watched the Eagles season end--- the game was just as nerve wracking and the last play (Vick interception) just as devastating watching dots and squiggles on ESPN.com :-( <br />
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That night it poured and poured and poured so I was not terribly excited to go on my tour of Estancia Harberton and the penguin colony.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeQMUlkhIQAX15_G1wvS01Cb7L0b4lpMRJFScnJiQGTFbSn2ixnLlN-YBhCFbTB5w9v72fv15nRXzld9gjJE6DZEksTIMxorLFO0UzQoTIZEEkyUIvEPaRRcRuYyerInPWw1D3SKw3ck8/s1600/DSC03934.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeQMUlkhIQAX15_G1wvS01Cb7L0b4lpMRJFScnJiQGTFbSn2ixnLlN-YBhCFbTB5w9v72fv15nRXzld9gjJE6DZEksTIMxorLFO0UzQoTIZEEkyUIvEPaRRcRuYyerInPWw1D3SKw3ck8/s320/DSC03934.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Miraculously the sun came out just as we left for the long drive there- yay!<br />
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We started off rafting with a tailwind and then ridiculously against the wind---we flat out could not get to the dock after several fruitless attempts and had to paddle around a different way to get off. <br />
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After lunch it was a speedboat to see the penguins which were way better than expected. The island is home to thousands of Magellan and Gentoo penguins and had me thinking my favorite Dr. Suess’ “The Sneetches” watching the orange billed penguin (Gentoo) walk with an air of superiority though the plain penguins.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrCCXEJsRBtKVvKWqhSNF7gm6ItDGt3DvPDYu_52lD-FJef974z6oTki3kGHFJq1DTOcYVG6j6sek8ugpTbGrRteT-Bvwb3HNepFSnuRGoNPl1r5B36T0IN_9HEJU05_CIf-vCXAkS2s8/s1600/DSC03964.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrCCXEJsRBtKVvKWqhSNF7gm6ItDGt3DvPDYu_52lD-FJef974z6oTki3kGHFJq1DTOcYVG6j6sek8ugpTbGrRteT-Bvwb3HNepFSnuRGoNPl1r5B36T0IN_9HEJU05_CIf-vCXAkS2s8/s320/DSC03964.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>We ended the tour with a fairly uneventful hike through the ranch, seeing trees that are constantly battered by the southern winds. Finally, a draft of the southernmost micro brew in the world. Of course we also needed to fit in some crab since Ushuaia is known for their crab, plus a visit to the most southern Irish pub in world.<br />
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Next stop-- El Calafate, a couple hours flight up the west coast of Argentina.<br />
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I arrived fairly late into town and was greeted warmly by the amazingly helpful guys at America del Sur- the best place to stay in Argentina.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj6rHZyfoXRdWdlVlRZh6AgaPn9qaGyAInViG9a2kpOKvt3Esg5xHpak5gjVI13QP0MOpOL9KXPO6uoM2s2Q36JoAkpBhkFkDpLMFfrqmK537OO2kJ0wo4GKep7EzbCNlYmcUYY5upwRQ/s1600/DSC04013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj6rHZyfoXRdWdlVlRZh6AgaPn9qaGyAInViG9a2kpOKvt3Esg5xHpak5gjVI13QP0MOpOL9KXPO6uoM2s2Q36JoAkpBhkFkDpLMFfrqmK537OO2kJ0wo4GKep7EzbCNlYmcUYY5upwRQ/s320/DSC04013.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>I was only there a few minutes but they had already arranged my trip to Glaciar Perito Moreno in Parque Nacional Los Glaciares.<br />
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The glacier was really pretty spectacular. I took about 1,000 pictures and now understand why Mom and Dad had all those pictures from Alaska. Honestly the pics don't do it justice since you can't see the different shades of blue, how huge it is or the sound and splash as icebergs fall off into the water (surprisingly loud).<br />
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With a combination of boat ride and viewing platforms, you really got a good view of the 30km long, 5km wide and 60m high glacier, which they claim is constantly advancing (2m a day).<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzn9dNwuffv6uOENivAH44Od9-Wh1HTY4AVFIyOUlZkN-bzUeoJydYDg6Cutn6Y1xNqI0iBoAmRs3fSydpPtVWEFiEW4w6UcYG2Am9czPqRVxU_55EGJPycFWtiWJrI7oaj1Vh8gnAhYw/s1600/DSC04037.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="86" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzn9dNwuffv6uOENivAH44Od9-Wh1HTY4AVFIyOUlZkN-bzUeoJydYDg6Cutn6Y1xNqI0iBoAmRs3fSydpPtVWEFiEW4w6UcYG2Am9czPqRVxU_55EGJPycFWtiWJrI7oaj1Vh8gnAhYw/s400/DSC04037.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Funny enough, upon my return to town I ran into two Dutch guys I met in Ushuaia (through Anil from BA days). Coincidentally they were staying at the same place, so I had new buddies for the next few days. First thing to do with friends?--- eat Calafate ice cream, which really tasted a lot like blueberry. Second thing- pick up a bottle of good, cheap, Argentine wine at the supermarket-- love wine producing countries!!! </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnjQBME2MKq_rSGGTQSLxjhEEgeDFhxiC5GKyMTkbY5sx_gyUiarLG6Np-08xJJLs0-4THeYLyrn7srS5BmUS0a8Me2gIxZdCZgkbKv0QuY7DzXDDNN-TOlrDx9xSToIIv1-vYW15-UuY/s1600/DSC04082.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnjQBME2MKq_rSGGTQSLxjhEEgeDFhxiC5GKyMTkbY5sx_gyUiarLG6Np-08xJJLs0-4THeYLyrn7srS5BmUS0a8Me2gIxZdCZgkbKv0QuY7DzXDDNN-TOlrDx9xSToIIv1-vYW15-UuY/s320/DSC04082.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>It was great, I was able to convince the Dutch to join me for a night in El Chalten, a town that was quickly built in 1985 to beat Chile to the land rights.<br />
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There really isn't anything to do in El Chalten except hike, which we had grand plans to do. The real reason to come is to see the 3405m Cerro Fitz Roy which we decided to tackle on day 2 when the weather was forecasted to be even better.<br />
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Around noon we headed out for Laguna Torre which was really beautiful, even if Cerro Torre was always in cloud cover. We even got a glimpse of Fitz Roy while taking a break for lunch. <br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">However, after 22kms we were pretty spent--- maybe we should have done Fitz Roy today since 25km tomorrow was looking doubtful (after dinner with beer and lots of wine it was even less likely).</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsRwqApUPQfNlyq_LE693lUNhJQjLMZlJ9KVtV-EfPgAsO2iVXtVqZ9hn99b3CJvV0sR0ClOHKpo3jERAzpLkgbixdhCLMP7hRhauj2V4DQ9mvKJLATWcKzwkKN4asvgA_DsOMOVdIid4/s1600/DSC04092.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsRwqApUPQfNlyq_LE693lUNhJQjLMZlJ9KVtV-EfPgAsO2iVXtVqZ9hn99b3CJvV0sR0ClOHKpo3jERAzpLkgbixdhCLMP7hRhauj2V4DQ9mvKJLATWcKzwkKN4asvgA_DsOMOVdIid4/s320/DSC04092.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">It's official- trek burnout, plus an incredibly windy day. Needless to say, we saw as much of Fitz Roy as we were going to see (see pic- peak on right in clouds). We then made the fatal mistake of returning to El Calafate where the frustrations began.</div><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">The Chilean border was still closed (they were protesting an increase in gas prices)!!! Yes, it has been closed for 3 days now, but certainly the protest and blockade wasn't going to last long. I had to catch a boat up through the Chilean fiordlands from Puerto Natales in a couple days, and I wanted to stop by Parque Nacional Torres del Paine on the way. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">The Dutch were smart and made a quick scramble to the airport and got out before the masses, but I needed to be in Chile on Monday night, so waited it out with a very optimistic attitude. I was even more hopeful after the delicious beef stew (served in a pumpkin) I enjoyed at Pura Vida all the way across town.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">My hopes were dashed as the days went on and I heard more stories from people that made their way over the border into Argentina. One Brit faked an injury and crossed the border in an ambulance. Others had their car shaken and stones thrown at them. Torres del Paine was reported to be like a refugee camp with people lined up for food (the <em>W</em> is a famous 4-day trek there and you have to carry all your stuff, so you wouldn't have extras). Others dropped off their Avis rental car at the blockade where the Avis clerk met them to hand over the keys, then they walked 20+ kms. with all their stuff. Not good!!!</div><br />
Things worsened when two people were killed and the military evacuated all the tourists from southern Chile. I guess I am NOT making it to that boat--- let's hope AmEx or my travel insurance refunds the $400.<br />
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Now I am part of the masses of unhappy travelers trying to get out of El Calafate. Yes, a cute town for a day or two, but not five!! I was back at the bus station, chatting with the same people I met there every day, all looking for a way out, but of course now everything is booked for days.<br />
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Where to go? Just get me out of here!<br />
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Bariloche it is! I didn't have much interest, but it appeared to be the only option since I had already been to Ushuaia. <a href="http://maps.google.com/maps?q=map+of+argentina&rls=com.microsoft:en-us:IE-Address&oe=&rlz=1I7ADFA_en&um=1&ie=UTF-8&hq=&hnear=Argentina&gl=pe&ei=S7BvTa2oIdPTgAepouhA&sa=X&oi=geocode_result&ct=title&resnum=1&ved=0CCAQ8gEwAA">Look at a map</a>- this country is huge- the 8th largest in the world! A bus to anywhere is going to be an ordeal.<br />
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I was able to find two options- a bus a 3am that seemed like a sucker bet since it look 32 hours and involved three transfers. I appeared better to wait yet another day for a 4pm departure--- interestingly the direct bus to Bariloche was sold out for days, but when I asked about connecting through Rio Gallagos I could get a seat------ <strong>OMG, it was the SAME bus</strong>, I just had to move seats (this was NOT the most resourceful or helpful woman!) You can see why we were all so frustrated!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjENCZBX7jn0ffG2NeaBjhYjdX2l5K7wFI4fBUFPdqzQdYyCi3r4mZN2j4VGMASAqjIPB6IBRJrkev9zu0pWPl8NOMAYGEbNXBFbn5r0LEZ7XzwoK2jf1XSJrVwHEJDvaEgiMTHIFM_Hgk/s1600/DSC04108.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjENCZBX7jn0ffG2NeaBjhYjdX2l5K7wFI4fBUFPdqzQdYyCi3r4mZN2j4VGMASAqjIPB6IBRJrkev9zu0pWPl8NOMAYGEbNXBFbn5r0LEZ7XzwoK2jf1XSJrVwHEJDvaEgiMTHIFM_Hgk/s320/DSC04108.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>And now I had to move out of America del Sur since they were booked up, but on the plus side I met Nathan and Woody from Australia and had a nice dinner and more Malbec at a cute bookstore/bar (after eating a fruit that looked like cherries from the tree outside). <br />
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El Calafate was really a nice town, even if there are stray dogs everywhere (seems to be a South American thing), you just don't want to be stuck here.<br />
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Yay!!! Finally I get to leave. Wait, first I have to get out of the room. Crazily enough, I was accidentally locked IN the room. Not sure what my life has come to--- I actually had to climb out the window--- I really can't get out of El Calafate!<br />
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At last success! On the bus for the next 26 hours heading north to the Lakes District. :-)</div>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03761254329951728715noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7077756613019007351.post-67194871515170378742011-02-13T07:18:00.002-05:002011-02-13T07:31:51.900-05:00It's Right There, So Why Not?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggYCjLnwUUhXZ0T1Dbiau2MrIavsRKkfi7wjHb5b8zeiN5SCzKJgiYuSYtxbON2mZk84QIzvtNknr6IinDwfzB_oOkGl1LhZ3zm_pyr-ybKKidoTeEPAV1myZ2gjVdCFLuOZYhhjU8hy8/s1600/DSC03750.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggYCjLnwUUhXZ0T1Dbiau2MrIavsRKkfi7wjHb5b8zeiN5SCzKJgiYuSYtxbON2mZk84QIzvtNknr6IinDwfzB_oOkGl1LhZ3zm_pyr-ybKKidoTeEPAV1myZ2gjVdCFLuOZYhhjU8hy8/s320/DSC03750.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Up bright and early to catch the overpriced (because I have become so non- committal and didn’t book until the last minute) 7:40am ferry to Montevideo, the capital of Uruguay. Sure, I had to leave at 6am to clear customs and whatnot, but I would get there in plenty of time to enjoy the beach. <br />
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</div>Yeah, a nice plan in theory. <br />
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Unfortunately the ferry’s entire computer system crashed so we left 3 hours late (after boarding). Of course I had NO idea why we were delayed since all the announcements were in espanol. All I knew is that I kept falling asleep and waking up and we still hadn’t gone anywhere. I couldn’t understand why the locals weren’t getting all pissy.<br />
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So, instead of getting there around noon, I didn’t get to the #1 ranked hostel until after 4--- not the beach day I had envisioned (after getting a taxi that cheated me a few bucks even after I fought with him for a while—I guess he knew I would at some point tire of arguing about the exchange rate.)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhez6tJCckG6zXWET2RAn8MA349NX9xJQwhVfjhwFLRNYmvmwyUL_a0zEFpP3WRpjfBLpHKXljjJ-WlgVsIZCVV5as7LA02WrdgvsSp4UWcxuRoZi-qJzFZfnmCe3naNr0Wp5aXNChHcQI/s1600/DSC03598.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhez6tJCckG6zXWET2RAn8MA349NX9xJQwhVfjhwFLRNYmvmwyUL_a0zEFpP3WRpjfBLpHKXljjJ-WlgVsIZCVV5as7LA02WrdgvsSp4UWcxuRoZi-qJzFZfnmCe3naNr0Wp5aXNChHcQI/s320/DSC03598.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I did make it to Pocitos Beach eventually and it turned out I really hadn’t missed all that much. The beach was fine as far as city beaches go-- full of locals enjoying the Sunday afternoon, but it was so windy the sand was blowing everywhere making it somewhat unpleasant. I stayed for a while since I <em>really</em> wanted some beach time, but eventually I gave up and went back to extract sand from every crevice of my body. ;-)</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidG1FalFrkQEaNrNdYyehy9ARGtkgmK5uUbKVqdeM_WjQvWtvwvt6UYwZ6mknkBvMjg9qnWkMxdZTBy4eTjIecrUXOdk4AVMLLSBvIMIERWsBeB10InKCJJXWKNdVrtM8sN5TpqnSUHrI/s1600/DSC03600.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidG1FalFrkQEaNrNdYyehy9ARGtkgmK5uUbKVqdeM_WjQvWtvwvt6UYwZ6mknkBvMjg9qnWkMxdZTBy4eTjIecrUXOdk4AVMLLSBvIMIERWsBeB10InKCJJXWKNdVrtM8sN5TpqnSUHrI/s320/DSC03600.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>I thought the day was a total loss until I met two guys (from LA and Switzerland) who were headed out to dinner. I joined them for Uruguay’s traditional sandwich- the Chovitos. YUM!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I thought a Philly cheesesteak was bad, but this trumps it! Imagine a hot sandwich of grilled steak, ham and bacon with melted cheese, a hardboiled egg, lettuce, tomato, peppers, pickles and onion (I opted against the mayo of course). It sounds kinda gross but it is pure deliciousness!<br />
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I even found room to share an apple pie and dulce de leche cake afterwards. Okay, I will admit after that I did feel kinda sick.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlyn3uwQYtXeSb0gqWVo_fNwZ4fZ4n5S774VXNwjCG4OuuXcMdF30HG1K-8LlrdBspm8o83Whs802LsxEqkK3MYBwzLLG-l2-qBJrs9RC-JOtDR7Sy0cnfiAXgHFYmN4nzGFvJrAcSGXs/s1600/DSC03648.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlyn3uwQYtXeSb0gqWVo_fNwZ4fZ4n5S774VXNwjCG4OuuXcMdF30HG1K-8LlrdBspm8o83Whs802LsxEqkK3MYBwzLLG-l2-qBJrs9RC-JOtDR7Sy0cnfiAXgHFYmN4nzGFvJrAcSGXs/s320/DSC03648.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>Since I didn’t really see anything redeeming about Montevideo (it was a ghost town when I arrived on Sunday) and the hostel was booked, I opted to move up my plans to go to the estancia (giant farms in the interior).<br />
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I took a 3-hour bus to the middle of nowhere, Cerro Colorado, to experience life in cattle country at San Pedro de Timote, a 253 hectar farm with buildings dating back to the mid-1800's (it was owned by the Jesuits until 1767).<br />
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I spent the next couple of days eating, riding horses (thanks Sargento- my horse), eating more, reading (I loved the library room with the spanish tile, dark wood and comfy leather chairs), sleeping and sitting by the pool. It was really very lovely looking out as far at the eye could see at the endless landscape. The only down side-- the biggest bug bites ever!<br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRRmbfw55FepTCRClev_C_UfENoO9vm5OwAJqdtaOn1iEKKsbAewNfz8x-9BP5WJnWXgCqf4i3KBU2FjvJNnMkYqBeKdngJPJvOT_ixtjo2kk5RYFLGO4VQi37s7kjXtKfKCrCkOnyRtg/s1600/DSC03652.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRRmbfw55FepTCRClev_C_UfENoO9vm5OwAJqdtaOn1iEKKsbAewNfz8x-9BP5WJnWXgCqf4i3KBU2FjvJNnMkYqBeKdngJPJvOT_ixtjo2kk5RYFLGO4VQi37s7kjXtKfKCrCkOnyRtg/s320/DSC03652.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">One morning I had a private ride with Beto, the gaucho/ horse riding guide, when we taught each other words in English and Spanish- it was quite amusing to say the least. I think I mistakenly told him that I am an only child, but sure he understood the traveling for a year bit based on his facial expression. </div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I happened to find myself in the middle of some cattle wrangling too, which was pretty sweet. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2J_k0vwKcJoKRP7pt-stXmk7hwkgdmF4pI5kX8HVF1qaxd4tEq_rb4Yc-7FGbxP5b5XTvmGNrU87DzXtHNF7gpD7atwYg2QG2eEcZQrARYEtto0Ax59G6GMVH56Xus4vi6ENShfLhdiM/s1600/DSC03710.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2J_k0vwKcJoKRP7pt-stXmk7hwkgdmF4pI5kX8HVF1qaxd4tEq_rb4Yc-7FGbxP5b5XTvmGNrU87DzXtHNF7gpD7atwYg2QG2eEcZQrARYEtto0Ax59G6GMVH56Xus4vi6ENShfLhdiM/s320/DSC03710.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">The return bus was not as seemless since first I couldn’t figure out how to buy a ticket, then it was super late and finally it dropped me off at some random stadium. Luckily I figured out how to take the free shuttle to the main bus station where I caught another bus to Colonia (I didn’t even need to try to figure out how to buy this ticket since a nice woman held my hand a bought the ticket for me- yay!). </div><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv-12H6cdHMtYUqyazZt8B2Ba4TO3UzHQwHJNmQm_8XCQ6TUS4WmFaxkqOXN_z5Od8J1Q4E4pYeh6PYGbYH136_PXT9VVyDi4l0uBjrEbh38fSIgUDCtgopxdjYs7HD5xNmJ-V9Gb4hQA/s1600/DSC03743.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv-12H6cdHMtYUqyazZt8B2Ba4TO3UzHQwHJNmQm_8XCQ6TUS4WmFaxkqOXN_z5Od8J1Q4E4pYeh6PYGbYH136_PXT9VVyDi4l0uBjrEbh38fSIgUDCtgopxdjYs7HD5xNmJ-V9Gb4hQA/s320/DSC03743.JPG" width="240" /></a>Colonia is a super cute town only about an hour ferry from Buenos Aires- when watching the sunset next to the lighthouse you can see BA in the distance. The town was founded in 1680 by the Portuguese governor of Buenos Aires and was a source for smuggled goods much to the schagrin of the Spanish (it officially became part of the Spainish empire in 1750).</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div>It doesn’t take long to see Colonia's Barrio Historico (another UNESCO site)--- about 2 hours of slow walking and you have seen all the sites: the 1745 city gate, the two main squares (like everywhere, one named after the 25th of May and the other Plaza de Armas), Inglesia Matriz (the oldest church in Uruguay) and the various old colonial homes that now house small museums (a tile museum, really??) . <br />
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That leaves a lot of time for eating and reading, which is pretty much how I spend my two days here. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNM_96LWZgoZlO3eKSYSB2HOjKTHAiJttHqQGrYMMo9iQimed9px9sQPoce1WQeRjyHslkoddLpiBYS42iprLiH_T_N0DSADQdaFn42EcTSa_-p30_ibLuXxWkSTutACbkrOTLwVbqci4/s1600/DSC03734.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNM_96LWZgoZlO3eKSYSB2HOjKTHAiJttHqQGrYMMo9iQimed9px9sQPoce1WQeRjyHslkoddLpiBYS42iprLiH_T_N0DSADQdaFn42EcTSa_-p30_ibLuXxWkSTutACbkrOTLwVbqci4/s320/DSC03734.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I enjoyed reading in the old park until a Uruguayan man wanted to chat. I wasn’t really in the mood to try to decipher Spanish, but despite repeated “no hablo espanol” he kept talking. Eventually I just had to vacate the premise. ;-)</div><br />
Colonia has many waterfront restaurants to hang at and watch the sunset over the Rio de la Plata, and even one with legitimately good pizza. Sure, there is nothing to do here, but I found it very charming and relaxing.<br />
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Since I skipped Punta del Este as it sounds kinda cheesy like Miami, I pretty much covered all the destinations within reach of Buenos Aires.<br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">After all I had to return for one more day of debauchery in BA before heading to the ‘bottom of the world’.</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div></div>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03761254329951728715noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7077756613019007351.post-87556920872195499702011-02-09T15:09:00.001-05:002011-02-09T15:09:35.101-05:00Muchos Buenos Aires<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Yes, perhaps I should have arrived nice and well rested after what I think was a 14-hour, 1st class trip from Sydney (they greeted me with Qantas PJ’s- how nice!), but I was pretty sleepy trying to adjust to the 16-hour time difference from New Zealand (even with my friend, Ambien).</span></div><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEQNKQF7cv2q54Sb4pYy-umPEtdtZcosCzGlseKCz-vqn0c_IwVMOPYTQn96-XOrkQsNJNdGmDqn5ZUDxs_UCpOWrPNZeY1Rddn4covO3mWs0vdBE1qOWwlze4SVvOGHuujAvItiLfBI8/s1600/DSC03521.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEQNKQF7cv2q54Sb4pYy-umPEtdtZcosCzGlseKCz-vqn0c_IwVMOPYTQn96-XOrkQsNJNdGmDqn5ZUDxs_UCpOWrPNZeY1Rddn4covO3mWs0vdBE1qOWwlze4SVvOGHuujAvItiLfBI8/s320/DSC03521.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Day 1 in Buenos Aires was pretty much a waste. All I did was sleep and wander around trying to find a mobile signal (un- beknownst to me I found one in the “don't cry for me Argentina” plaza). </span></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Finally motivating, at 9:30pm I decided I should probably grab dinner not realizing this was WAY early by Argentine standards. This became clear when people continued to arrive (with small children) as late as midnight. I am still puzzled how they manage to do any work? In the land of beef, I had to get my first steak, mashed potatoes (there are NO vegetables here) and Argentine red wine (plus a glass of free champagne for some unclear reason)--- so far South America is off to a fine start. ;-)</span></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyXYACrSnl-AHx0_pJ8EXAeDbjXIquECAVHEaWSCTtkHjy44DXSvUVfEszRJ3q68ksAaEv_WZoC1xbuTcbeR_fEZCJIoaWlMH8A6BPQt_GD-gNozqLlCC27bXX6rfDjNGMYyyM5IG7Ceg/s1600/DSC03494.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyXYACrSnl-AHx0_pJ8EXAeDbjXIquECAVHEaWSCTtkHjy44DXSvUVfEszRJ3q68ksAaEv_WZoC1xbuTcbeR_fEZCJIoaWlMH8A6BPQt_GD-gNozqLlCC27bXX6rfDjNGMYyyM5IG7Ceg/s320/DSC03494.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The following day I walked around Puerto Madero, the old port that was only used from 1898-1926 since it became too small to handle the amount of cargo by 1910. Complete with cobble stone paths and brick warehouses, the area has been converted into an upscale neighborhood.</span></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It is charming and apparently brings out the romantics--- as I was sitting on a bench a young, Argentinian man asked if he could sit and chat (in our broken Spanish and English). Before I knew it he kissed me--- my, they are quite forward here in Buenos Aires! Needless to say I was taken off guard (but found the whole ridiculous incident pretty amusing.)</span></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">After lunch I visited the Museo Fortabat, a new museum showcasing the collection of Argentina’s wealthiest woman, Amalia Lacroze. I loved the art as well as the building which has movable aluminum panels above the roof that open and close depending on the position of the sun- cool! </span></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Since it was still relatively early, I decided to do Lonely Planet’s walking tour of Central BA, or at least most of the 5km route (who needs to see Congress up close, especially when it is modeled after the U.S. Capitol Building). </span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfc2dr7vwXGGzwcZCBsPMU3YmkhEYy7M4nQHWvaOBuCn3wj55STLMmzhaFuyP311hyphenhyphenNuqaZ0_o4LO3DyTNYZAFymAExaYhtKNWBf8IK3Do5DXqWARfuB1eht-Im_XY-XeF5_jMKZnM7zE/s1600/DSC03502.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfc2dr7vwXGGzwcZCBsPMU3YmkhEYy7M4nQHWvaOBuCn3wj55STLMmzhaFuyP311hyphenhyphenNuqaZ0_o4LO3DyTNYZAFymAExaYhtKNWBf8IK3Do5DXqWARfuB1eht-Im_XY-XeF5_jMKZnM7zE/s320/DSC03502.JPG" width="240" /></span></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Along the way I saw Plaza San Martin with the obligatory statue of the hero/general who helped liberate Argentina from Spanish rule (there is stuff named after him all over the country). The plaza is surrounded by beautiful mansions and South America’s former tallest building (1935). Across the street is the British donated Torre de los Ingleses which they now call by another name after the Falkland Islands War (or Malvinas Islands as they are called in Argentina).Yes, they still hold a grudge.</span></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">After a walk on Ave 9 de Julio (‘the widest street in the world’- 16 lanes at some points), passing by the city’s 67m obelisk (build in one month back in 1936 and the place for celebrating sports fans), I ended the abridged tour at the Plaza de Mayo where the Cathedral Metropolitana (containing the tomb of General San Martin) and Casa Rosada stand, besides other impressive buildings--- the architecture in BA is stunning! The Casa Rosada houses the President’s office, but it is also where Eva (aka Evita) and Juan Peron (and Madonna) addressed the public from the balcony. I couldn’t stop singing the tunes from “Evita”!</span></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUsQpDyZlg9f13sI2dP_i3-7QZq8ebVvDjJgxe2ujPieCAQKUv3KNQ2t1E3nCSlECjlh8FC9BvY03x9nuSQoCJA9eFIyCtuh6jv13_B5J4ZxJCWg1VJv6LBQkIrcPqI6mtpDA_lVITsrY/s1600/DSC03507.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUsQpDyZlg9f13sI2dP_i3-7QZq8ebVvDjJgxe2ujPieCAQKUv3KNQ2t1E3nCSlECjlh8FC9BvY03x9nuSQoCJA9eFIyCtuh6jv13_B5J4ZxJCWg1VJv6LBQkIrcPqI6mtpDA_lVITsrY/s320/DSC03507.JPG" width="240" /></a><span style="font-family: inherit;">After another steak dinner (not as good as the night before), I had another lazy morning (this is the Argentine way!) before heading off to the ritzy Recoleta neighborhood. I walked along the streets marveling at the stunning buildings (and disgusted by the fact that the Vatican embassy was the nicest of them all--- maybe they should sell that and give some money to their needy believers?). </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I later learned on a free walking tour of the area a few interesting tid bits: </span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">#1- BA is often called the ‘Paris of South America’ since when trading with Europe back in the early 1900’s they needed to load the ships for the return trip, so the former Europeans and current residents of BA had the good idea to ship European construction materials: stone, ironwork, fountains, you name it. </span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuPQOH65RtSB-_zlHRtjD354xLNQqNB82XMLO0GQ5xA6_YJHTAEcU3WONc2UUevLjh5a90KIJjB8mLJcrY2Q_oNKbv7v6aQdr5C99YWYh7hmO46adeB41qZuuOkKAQ9GWr2uLUvCHVjpk/s1600/DSC03577.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuPQOH65RtSB-_zlHRtjD354xLNQqNB82XMLO0GQ5xA6_YJHTAEcU3WONc2UUevLjh5a90KIJjB8mLJcrY2Q_oNKbv7v6aQdr5C99YWYh7hmO46adeB41qZuuOkKAQ9GWr2uLUvCHVjpk/s320/DSC03577.JPG" width="240" /></a><span style="font-family: inherit;">#2- With a good insurance plan Argentines get one free plastic surgery every two years--- there were many ‘plasticos’ in this neighborhood!</span><br />
</div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The Museo Nacional De Bellas Artes was a brief stop before the walking tour, which was randomly full of Americans, including a lovely couple from San Fran who I joined for some yummy Dulce de Leche gelato afterwards (the Argentines have incredible ice cream so I tried to fit it in every day).</span></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Each day in BA seemed to get less and less productive. Following a late night in San Telmo (4am) of more steak (getting worse food and service wise!), vino, Jenga and Connect 4 (I said you had to be a moron to lose at Connect 4 and then I lost 3 games- wow, I have really lost it!) with Anil, my new friend from Colorado, I slept yet another day away. </span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIJIpD5_7uM6M8YtKPmI33MCdmTP2bVjPSLiufsfVfsCMZyUV-0X2d9ri07Bt5LOcHFf5i8mCA4FNz3YmtVPtug8JLOJ5Cn1idnvS4VNinLpskLbwsjZnup3v2H2lvU72McQPWDXnVTJk/s1600/DSC03558.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIJIpD5_7uM6M8YtKPmI33MCdmTP2bVjPSLiufsfVfsCMZyUV-0X2d9ri07Bt5LOcHFf5i8mCA4FNz3YmtVPtug8JLOJ5Cn1idnvS4VNinLpskLbwsjZnup3v2H2lvU72McQPWDXnVTJk/s320/DSC03558.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: inherit;">Luckily I rebounded for dinner with Ilse (Holland) and Guy (Belgium) at a buffet restaurant with the most adorable, young, attentive waiter (what a difference from last night!). Over the course of dinner we befriended Arian, a local who entertained us for days to come. </span></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Since Arian invited us to a New Year’s Eve party, Ilse and I decided to go shopping in posh and trendy Palermo, (you can get Havianas down here for $10!!!!). </span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ6hQ-0n6JJziOSRg8dy6LE2qb-NSpbS4NuZpDTz5pNpjvomqAjuqYhcKHWlklgDggRzFgN1353v7NVPq89xLqAxkUMfKlfbfXWte1D8Z-0Qi3OvihdYfEtH9D9lW2Wbe5Rf10UuCHQIM/s1600/DSC03565.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ6hQ-0n6JJziOSRg8dy6LE2qb-NSpbS4NuZpDTz5pNpjvomqAjuqYhcKHWlklgDggRzFgN1353v7NVPq89xLqAxkUMfKlfbfXWte1D8Z-0Qi3OvihdYfEtH9D9lW2Wbe5Rf10UuCHQIM/s320/DSC03565.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: inherit;">Arian’s band was playing at a party for what turned out to be Peruvians in BA. It was pretty hilarious and we felt like we crashed someone’s wedding--- we were definitely the thing that did not belong! Although midnight was fairly anticlimactic, the rest of the night dancing salsa was SO much fun (or whatever it was---- I had no idea what I was doing, I just followed my lead as the Argentines can dance!).<br />
<br />
Wait--- it is 7am!!!!!!!!!!!!</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It won’t be a shock to learn that yes, I slept a lot of the next day away too. ;-) </span></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">BA is going to kill me! Up all night, sleep all day. How do these people get anything done???</span></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><span style="font-family: inherit;">I did arise in time to see a bit of the start of the Dakar Rally and a late lunch along the waterfront (which was littered with beer and champagne bottles which as you can imagine didn’t smell too hot a day later…. prob worse three days later since no one works here on holidays or weekends!) </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyVLDnyc1rP6LcQx6ZVGjQxRPytolGYBtM6MhstQ0gMYdggUJ65EAJioRDUoAJjHV4FBZiPQVd7cVWXrRY6tnQJZ-OaSsp0xXX0XyEkyYDPH7O-Zhzy3K8jJEaY9OCa3gvI0Mue24aVO8/s1600/DSC03591.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyVLDnyc1rP6LcQx6ZVGjQxRPytolGYBtM6MhstQ0gMYdggUJ65EAJioRDUoAJjHV4FBZiPQVd7cVWXrRY6tnQJZ-OaSsp0xXX0XyEkyYDPH7O-Zhzy3K8jJEaY9OCa3gvI0Mue24aVO8/s1600/DSC03591.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyVLDnyc1rP6LcQx6ZVGjQxRPytolGYBtM6MhstQ0gMYdggUJ65EAJioRDUoAJjHV4FBZiPQVd7cVWXrRY6tnQJZ-OaSsp0xXX0XyEkyYDPH7O-Zhzy3K8jJEaY9OCa3gvI0Mue24aVO8/s320/DSC03591.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: inherit;">One of the only things left to check off the list was visiting La Boca, the meat- packing/ warehouse area that is known for its brightly colored houses. The houses were originally splashed with leftover paint used on shipping barges. Caminito, the famous street, is pretty touristy, but cute for a quick, sleepy stroll to see the houses and performers tangoing in the street (you can´t leave this street since the rest of the hood is a bit dangerous). </span></div></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">At this point I had to flee Buenos Aires- too much drink, too much steak, too many skipped meals and lost night’s sleep. It was starting to takes its toll. No mas!!!!!!!!!! </span></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The city is AMAZING-- it is beautiful, vibrant, fantastic. Each neighborhood has its own distinct look and feel. I loved every minute of it (well, I could have lived without the morning headaches)!!!!</span></div></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></div></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFNSgyqCSxYNHCBMh_74-Gg9CgKkMEq_Zt2u8GdjFNrBVmpZqVaqkjjBUQB_QQtZcF8m2YBRxdJd5pUYLOpIAmNfF_f5jcz_ynw0fuivBJOKO3gJZlepNUA7li2KXkCCdUnT4YaLbREXo/s1600/DSC03583.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div></div>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03761254329951728715noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7077756613019007351.post-77374895470900157282011-02-08T16:03:00.000-05:002011-02-08T16:03:20.510-05:00New Zealand Postponed<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">No pictures to post given they are trapped on my old computer, so we'll revisit NZ later.</div>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03761254329951728715noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7077756613019007351.post-63419507011823770102010-12-22T16:10:00.016-05:002010-12-23T03:18:52.836-05:00Mmmmmmm MelbourneYes, I was supposed to spend the month of November in Australia. Obviously that didn't happen since I unexpectedly went to Laos, Myanmar, Malaysia and Singapore instead. But thankfully I did have four short days in Melbourne on route to New Zealand. <div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div></div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLGoDh32e3NHciHDVi6L-JJGmGgM6OdADwh-DhJxU6pVRT7ZUmWyaqlaWedbF68TyzaZkbN-ChhY1qnJGSiH2_b09ct3lSnKNEKYPd4CGRJM6WMjpdBsp0PubJVNdbhna1UNmepAOH-Ks/s1600/DSC02580.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553623729148780994" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLGoDh32e3NHciHDVi6L-JJGmGgM6OdADwh-DhJxU6pVRT7ZUmWyaqlaWedbF68TyzaZkbN-ChhY1qnJGSiH2_b09ct3lSnKNEKYPd4CGRJM6WMjpdBsp0PubJVNdbhna1UNmepAOH-Ks/s320/DSC02580.JPG" /></a>I must say that I was super happy there- it was just the perfect dose of home, but WAY mellower, perhaps more of a West Coast feel? I thoroughly enjoyed myself and all the city things I got to do--- eat, drink, museums and movies. See, just like home!</div><div></div><br /><div>It all started off with a bus loop around the city to peruse the sights and then a late lunch of cured meats, cheeses and micro brew along the water in the Docklands on the most glorious day. I feared Asia had made me lactose intolerant, but fear not I have battled through- bring on the cheese! ;-)</div><div></div><br /><div>That evening I found Carlton, Melbourne's Little Italy and University area, lined with all sorts of restaurants, bars and the Nova Cinema. Yes, an art house movie theater where I saw "The Social Network" (review: thumbs up) interrupted by a fire alarm-- that is a first, I have never been to a movie theater than had to be evacuated (just a 30 minute delay until the fire brigade arrived).</div></div><div><div></div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibp8lsUrY74Fkmgt59IJDIf1oi9Xj94nUBswK5H5gn6BdeMVpoukT1lX2Mqz2G3i_F4KnTgrfUzLJJ_JDegGkJ97cdlmXB0GofmsdMcrIeWrRR6OHy5UQwtE91rznDSuJ1y-m0Etl_NKM/s1600/DSC02584.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553623712272504578" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibp8lsUrY74Fkmgt59IJDIf1oi9Xj94nUBswK5H5gn6BdeMVpoukT1lX2Mqz2G3i_F4KnTgrfUzLJJ_JDegGkJ97cdlmXB0GofmsdMcrIeWrRR6OHy5UQwtE91rznDSuJ1y-m0Etl_NKM/s320/DSC02584.JPG" /></a>The weather was a little temperamental, but I did enjoy a lovely lunch of pumpkin and beet pizza along the Yarra River before scampering in the rain to the National Gallery of Victoria, International. As the name suggests, this museum houses Australia's finest collection of international art. The art was so-so, but the building was really impressive. I loved the glass entrance with water cascading down in front of cool sculpture. The unusual part was how friendly the security personnel was. I had a LONG chat with one who showed me a cool feature of a modern piece and then explained how I could get Aussie citizenship. Another guard pointed out some 18th C. paintings where the eyes, shoes, floor played tricks on the eye. It was a nice bonus!</div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiue3ufqnxKegGvZl3vQBd_C8WHffTlss6BFokM7xlqwzKZqDz_aUlTG5dyJ6b7RlIUp5Bfcxnd-cY9cRXzHzU-h9rL7chuud23B-eRiSGzToYC5YviNaQWL2D93T7v38vqkjAD1bKn944/s1600/DSC02591.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553623726519783458" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiue3ufqnxKegGvZl3vQBd_C8WHffTlss6BFokM7xlqwzKZqDz_aUlTG5dyJ6b7RlIUp5Bfcxnd-cY9cRXzHzU-h9rL7chuud23B-eRiSGzToYC5YviNaQWL2D93T7v38vqkjAD1bKn944/s320/DSC02591.JPG" /></a>Since I was in a wine producing country I HAD to visit some vineyards in Australia, even if they aren't the most acclaimed. I tasted some tasty wine in the Yarra Valley, east of Melbourne. This is the area that experienced "Black Saturday", the devastating bush fires of February 2009. One winery had pictures of the area during the blaze when a 30ft. high wall of fire came meters from their property (they believe they were saved by their underground irrigation system- crazy stuff!) </div><div></div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTc65gJGFpqGqSbwCLPHblRLWEcJgVJMDdD0PbzKtn9sP3ziscTYmJIBsF8mRa9oYew9IY_v27KgPyIdFuNJ-5ONdW3Kp7hGYEdC3ns9zAC-pfBT3piboRb8ab4tgknZJ2Kdj-GFGynFc/s1600/DSC02594.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553625531633642626" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTc65gJGFpqGqSbwCLPHblRLWEcJgVJMDdD0PbzKtn9sP3ziscTYmJIBsF8mRa9oYew9IY_v27KgPyIdFuNJ-5ONdW3Kp7hGYEdC3ns9zAC-pfBT3piboRb8ab4tgknZJ2Kdj-GFGynFc/s320/DSC02594.JPG" /></a>I did browse the goods for sale at the Queen Victoria Market, which sells everything from food to your standard tourist goods. I enjoyed this market more than most since it appeared that real locals actually shop here, plus they had a bakery that sold pretzels and red gummy frogs (like our red gummy fish, but frogs!)</div><div></div><br /><div>Federation Square, along the Yarra River, has <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE9YpeK0-X5PWo0dA4_y4lq1tAtdZw_ZaO1yA7vETZeJaZ0UsuSJNvpmObtdJwb7GAQDym8r-aQztFSSu118T2G7P5-d6hyphenhyphennOgbOa379iqlRmwrCAvmxXlCq86cwdo_3pC8eIpN2b0bcI/s1600/DSC02611.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553782581201756706" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE9YpeK0-X5PWo0dA4_y4lq1tAtdZw_ZaO1yA7vETZeJaZ0UsuSJNvpmObtdJwb7GAQDym8r-aQztFSSu118T2G7P5-d6hyphenhyphennOgbOa379iqlRmwrCAvmxXlCq86cwdo_3pC8eIpN2b0bcI/s320/DSC02611.JPG" /></a>become a meeting place for locals and tourists surrounded by museums and theaters. Opened in 2002, The NGV Ian Potter Centre is on the Square, dedicated to Australian art. I enjoyed this collection more than the International collection, including the gallery of Aboriginal art. I took one of the collection tours, per the advise of one of those helpful guards at the National Gallery, which shed some light on a few Australian artists (even if a little <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXwidZxjnjV5q41EqIVYLqVmLjPcAViudm9Tab0Oyimaox65MCfxuwAKZQMN2DMKGql93IJBpnMjukWJJz0iaCs48_Xa_-YBBcf6I973Nzx4ORXPSTm6o-8skLdkcTc5LcsLT1YQOyo7Y/s1600/DSC02578.JPG"></a>long winded). </div><div></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwQSmhuchHPZW2eC5VMpvrmZc2noVIzGKfuWBmJY91nUb2DMmKZNAm2tFcCSC1bmnu89kmgS3sAE7dRQt5-ewIByiRI-lSUsdRfmWdggKwVpXIx19RbpkSV_v0Xqc8bdJJLwqKNfEu5Ts/s1600/DSC02615.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553784671019801106" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwQSmhuchHPZW2eC5VMpvrmZc2noVIzGKfuWBmJY91nUb2DMmKZNAm2tFcCSC1bmnu89kmgS3sAE7dRQt5-ewIByiRI-lSUsdRfmWdggKwVpXIx19RbpkSV_v0Xqc8bdJJLwqKNfEu5Ts/s320/DSC02615.JPG" /></a><br /><div>Even though Melbourne's Christmas tree was totally lame, they did amuse me with some of their other decorations- gotta love that Aussie sense of humor!</div><br /><div></div><div>I didn't think I had much interest in going to Australia, but I LOVED Melbourne. It may be the first place I visited that I really felt I could live. </div><div></div><div><br />Maybe next time I will actually make it to Sydney? Or better yet, a return trip for the Australian Open!</div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03761254329951728715noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7077756613019007351.post-8100278888251790452010-12-19T05:10:00.015-05:002010-12-22T16:02:52.644-05:00Taste of My Old Life<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiks_3WI_FHdVQDI31LctTp3PKujEeMcTj8dN16TmVb8VsjtJS4lSfVbKQP93lHH_Kqj-iw_rW5AGlbH0cWqmZaGzICJR9TI9HvfFLBOsGPE__DzvYZjSoWYeh0th9KE_4KTct7f87NXSo/s1600/DSC02547.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552505906228386818" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiks_3WI_FHdVQDI31LctTp3PKujEeMcTj8dN16TmVb8VsjtJS4lSfVbKQP93lHH_Kqj-iw_rW5AGlbH0cWqmZaGzICJR9TI9HvfFLBOsGPE__DzvYZjSoWYeh0th9KE_4KTct7f87NXSo/s320/DSC02547.JPG" /></a>Ahhhhh, luxury again! :-)<br /><div><div><div><div><div><br />Only a few hours on a bus and I was over the border into sparkling clean, orderly Singapore staying at Natalie's lovely apartment with my very own bedroom AND bathroom. Oh, so nice!!!!!!!!<br /><br /><div>Natalie and Rob totally spoiled me with all the yummy food (and drinks) that Singapore has to offer. </div><div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj61eD1UpDKN658c-w4Qj0NsEDs46ElVEJ4kmsPrnAp_1iaPzoLNMeGcHIjhYt-DOjfqqyYVvIbpqgvmYkPBUguCfA93RM-6lnFT1LsxHNukoS2bO9vZYyYuuGrT-r02Z5rWiDhHEtisOo/s1600/DSC02557.JPG"></a></div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj61eD1UpDKN658c-w4Qj0NsEDs46ElVEJ4kmsPrnAp_1iaPzoLNMeGcHIjhYt-DOjfqqyYVvIbpqgvmYkPBUguCfA93RM-6lnFT1LsxHNukoS2bO9vZYyYuuGrT-r02Z5rWiDhHEtisOo/s1600/DSC02557.JPG"></a></div><div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj61eD1UpDKN658c-w4Qj0NsEDs46ElVEJ4kmsPrnAp_1iaPzoLNMeGcHIjhYt-DOjfqqyYVvIbpqgvmYkPBUguCfA93RM-6lnFT1LsxHNukoS2bO9vZYyYuuGrT-r02Z5rWiDhHEtisOo/s1600/DSC02557.JPG"></a></div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj61eD1UpDKN658c-w4Qj0NsEDs46ElVEJ4kmsPrnAp_1iaPzoLNMeGcHIjhYt-DOjfqqyYVvIbpqgvmYkPBUguCfA93RM-6lnFT1LsxHNukoS2bO9vZYyYuuGrT-r02Z5rWiDhHEtisOo/s1600/DSC02557.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552336977784332754" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj61eD1UpDKN658c-w4Qj0NsEDs46ElVEJ4kmsPrnAp_1iaPzoLNMeGcHIjhYt-DOjfqqyYVvIbpqgvmYkPBUguCfA93RM-6lnFT1LsxHNukoS2bO9vZYyYuuGrT-r02Z5rWiDhHEtisOo/s320/DSC02557.JPG" /></a></div>Yes, I had my obligatory Singapore Sling at Raffles (built in 1887 and lovely!), but there was so much more!!!<br /><br />Chili Crab- chili, black pepper or white pepper- which is your favorite? I was quite fond of the black pepper. The best was the (parking lot) decor and the middle aged waitresses in the cheap, satin Tiger beer uniforms. So good!<br /><br />Satay outside the hawker centre-- prawn, chicken, mutton---- all delish, albeit a little smokey.<br /><br />Crab and prawn dumplings, sushi, chicken rice, lime juice, chicken fingers & creamed spinach (okay, maybe not them- a weak substitute for sold-out Thanksgiving dinner!)- yum, yum and more yum! </div><div></div><div><br />Sure, I never got to see that rooftop view since they wouldn't let me in the "club" with "slippers" (aka flip flops), but all was good! ;-)<br /><br /></div><div></div><div></div><div>And Nat wasn't the only one to spoil me, Freida (who I met in Nepal) showed me around Robertson Quay where we even had chips and salsa (do you know how long it's been???)</div><div><br />I again walked all over the city to get a feel for life here. And life seems pretty nice!<br /><br /></div><div></div><div>Like KL it has a lot of malls, but unlike KL I didn't almost get killed trying to cross their super clean streets. Sure, there were times I couldn't quite figure out <em>how</em> to cross, and jaywalking didn't seem acceptable in Singapore, but eventually I figured out where the underpass was located (after walking in circles and eventually asking ;-) </div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh11wFH1XdmKGdknm2CxfHZCDP9S5jGdJoyqNu7BTZ2M6ooYV9hSIrn8jvEJniiyNfh_kWmDbnXtM94fEEqbgb6TYMmmSUmVRxf8JI-CJtdI9ADeTorFer8v7st6i_sYUw_fODYqVmspr8/s1600/DSC02559.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552505898252952146" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh11wFH1XdmKGdknm2CxfHZCDP9S5jGdJoyqNu7BTZ2M6ooYV9hSIrn8jvEJniiyNfh_kWmDbnXtM94fEEqbgb6TYMmmSUmVRxf8JI-CJtdI9ADeTorFer8v7st6i_sYUw_fODYqVmspr8/s320/DSC02559.JPG" /></a>Okay, there <em>may</em> be issues with the government being overly controlling, but I've got to say it was quite nice as a visitor. Maybe you deserve a caning for chewing gum? ;-) For example, they seemed to have mandated a blue and white Christmas theme--- all the decorations (and EVERYTHING was decorated) were bling-a-rific. I loved it!<br /></div><div></div><div><br />I did a very quick run through of the Asian Civilizations Museum when I first arrived, which was really just a well done overview of all the countries I had visited over the last few months, so I didn't feel too terrible about my brief visit. </div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZHn4lH9jzin4C0Vhqe4wCDP9IqOQPlgmlebamIuW10DLdNw8eEwFsx-jA2z4b3krI3p0Bktu4gayJn7Wy-g7BM1VttUl8bJb1DMHioeXSMoqH63J7qoP5yx0nYiiVQOfoeD5BEesXFaM/s1600/DSC02536.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552336975749175058" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZHn4lH9jzin4C0Vhqe4wCDP9IqOQPlgmlebamIuW10DLdNw8eEwFsx-jA2z4b3krI3p0Bktu4gayJn7Wy-g7BM1VttUl8bJb1DMHioeXSMoqH63J7qoP5yx0nYiiVQOfoeD5BEesXFaM/s320/DSC02536.JPG" /></a>The next morning I started with the walking tour of Chinatown and a visit to the Buddha Tooth Relic Temple and Buddha Museum. The Temple is pretty much brand new, completed in 2007, but was pretty and had a very interesting museum that explained the life of Buddha in the 1st person--- I kinda loved it! The shrine with the tooth was very impressive, but sadly you couldn't get all that close to see much and I am always sceptical of relics of any faith.<br /><br /></div><div></div><div></div><div>A quick metro ride and I was transported to Little India, followed by a walk along Arab Street, with all its colorful fabric shops, before making my way to the waterfront. On the way I passed the world's largest fountain which I didn't get because I didn't know it wasn't really turned on. It made more sense when I passed by in a taxi a second time. </div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQDq7QVJIplLJyCyQMiV9h89IuOJRtz4VkxgUg5-HRV5wBkuFoJ-UPDvOBtyZ53IJmlmc7UCSIs76xEhWdb3hx8Sn4fB4k8NQ4IFxhyUFzyj2GE278pbsEuKADLqwqqj7Kj8U2zLfcTfk/s1600/DSC02528.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552487687871224610" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQDq7QVJIplLJyCyQMiV9h89IuOJRtz4VkxgUg5-HRV5wBkuFoJ-UPDvOBtyZ53IJmlmc7UCSIs76xEhWdb3hx8Sn4fB4k8NQ4IFxhyUFzyj2GE278pbsEuKADLqwqqj7Kj8U2zLfcTfk/s320/DSC02528.JPG" /></a>The Esplanade Theaters on the Bay, nicknamed "the durians" since they look like the spiky fruit, were my first stop. From there I could see the famous Merlion fountain- the half lion, half fish symbol of Singapore. But the real standout was the newly built Marina Bay Sands "integrated resort" (aka casino). The design is odd- it is reportedly supposed to be a fishing boat with it's nets cast (perhaps to scoop up all the people's money in the casino, upscale mall, theaters and celerity chef restaurants?) Not sure about this one!</div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwXqgjiAXC821MEWzpsBg7HOf5yEjabsPX9uTk-0R-uVaZy7f0hEx98jTsolYiBv6YS-Gk0-V5DSoKC4K0GTQKUgxGEPqklTltt5GOkM0Bh_UmV0sERu0xOqnrqvpEM9j_SMq2PKuIEoE/s1600/DSC02560.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552336984654667602" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwXqgjiAXC821MEWzpsBg7HOf5yEjabsPX9uTk-0R-uVaZy7f0hEx98jTsolYiBv6YS-Gk0-V5DSoKC4K0GTQKUgxGEPqklTltt5GOkM0Bh_UmV0sERu0xOqnrqvpEM9j_SMq2PKuIEoE/s320/DSC02560.JPG" /></a>Like all the others, my last day in Singapore was delightful. First stop was the Tanjong Beach Club on Sentosa Island where, despite a brief rain shower, we had a lovely time drinking our White Rabbits on lounge chairs with views of the tanker ships in the distance and a dog in a life preserver swimming just offshore (Singaporeans can be a little wacky it seems). </div><br /><div>As if that wasn't good enough, <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjASJMBWcufyJVbNT7ueqtdHByKck2wSvwgsyLnJy73lsgLXkOnZOltX58fMFK8anw2ehIMJSG_1zwYEom4sxqtcV7aFp25FdFYOX2K9Epwbpw9I8abnMGdRTlUDvDFJQ6i1McKNJ6ZRgM/s1600/DSC02570.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552336990970141458" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjASJMBWcufyJVbNT7ueqtdHByKck2wSvwgsyLnJy73lsgLXkOnZOltX58fMFK8anw2ehIMJSG_1zwYEom4sxqtcV7aFp25FdFYOX2K9Epwbpw9I8abnMGdRTlUDvDFJQ6i1McKNJ6ZRgM/s320/DSC02570.JPG" /></a>we ended the day at Natalie's friends who hosted a real American Thanks- giving. They did an AMAZING job replicating home! Sure the sweet potatoes were purple and the peanut butter pie was melting in the Singapore humidity, but they tasted just right! </div><div><br />The Vandervorsts really know how to treat a girl!!! Thanks again!!!!</div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03761254329951728715noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7077756613019007351.post-77542626363007557902010-12-19T02:30:00.008-05:002010-12-19T05:05:24.940-05:00Ah, Not So Much<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">Kuala</span> <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">Lumpur</span>, Malaysia was the next random destination simply because cheap flights from Myanmar are limited to KL or Bangkok, and I couldn't bare going through Bangkok a 4<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">th</span> time in weeks.<br /><br /><div><div><div><div><div><div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>I arrived close to midnight and found a taxi that of course had NO idea where the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">Rainforest</span> B&B was located, despite the fact that I kept telling him to turn as he passed the street and building time after time--- not funny at 1am! </div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzEpqJ_D1qAXupdpt-gTKjQbnu_UaKpZTuuYUkHw_hNnXHybO3v7PFymIpogMu_Z1sizzsXQcGSpBTD9rDnzZE-Y387NAfOEp7NEPRvVLsfCd_FdaTJIo-gecePebZj0mBBjTA0xhySnE/s1600/DSC02489.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552313151559713298" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzEpqJ_D1qAXupdpt-gTKjQbnu_UaKpZTuuYUkHw_hNnXHybO3v7PFymIpogMu_Z1sizzsXQcGSpBTD9rDnzZE-Y387NAfOEp7NEPRvVLsfCd_FdaTJIo-gecePebZj0mBBjTA0xhySnE/s320/DSC02489.JPG" /></a>Rested I decided to walk ALL over town and see the sites. I soon realized they don't really have many sites and it isn't so easy to walk as it often seemed I was crossing small highways to get where I needed to go. </div><div><br />I first headed in the direction of Chinatown's <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">Petaling</span> Street Market-- pretty much like all the other Chinatown markets with lots of stalls selling a variety of random cheap stuff to tourists. That didn't hold my interest for long, just long enough to cool down in a building since KL is steamy!</div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0Rz8oSX8Bkh82GVOvNuo_2d1zXtkyvf2ML3DbsBlLR68ZmyMRHMNhWgQpiCAaw9KghdGZWXXQOz-wuM1erLpHArfu5BVw0gplYmYzNx5zYA3K7WYE9-jiMN3kfzWajeCzd9O2gSZol9U/s1600/DSC02487.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552313147101803330" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0Rz8oSX8Bkh82GVOvNuo_2d1zXtkyvf2ML3DbsBlLR68ZmyMRHMNhWgQpiCAaw9KghdGZWXXQOz-wuM1erLpHArfu5BVw0gplYmYzNx5zYA3K7WYE9-jiMN3kfzWajeCzd9O2gSZol9U/s320/DSC02487.JPG" /></a>I did stumble upon the Central Market, originally used as the main wet market built in 1888, which well exceeded expectations since unlike ever other market it actually had things worth buying. I just had some lunch (and a chocolate chip cookie), walking past the beautiful pink and cream colored old mosque, <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error">Masjid</span> <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error">Jamek</span> (1907), on route to <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error">Merdeka</span> Square where independence was declared in 1957. </div><div><br />Next up a walk through Lake Gardens Park which is chock full of activities. I didn't have too much interest in the Bird Park, but did stop at the orchid garden (which was just okay since they seemed to be in the process of planting). </div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9D5sh4dT-_a9hXFlUTJrPSQzL8Z92GkFtkSApddg5MVGF5Hfp76676Zkb7UPMpvhjHwTPV3X2rC2tYPXsbiIB0mS6j4RveyWpM5vmweEI9oaE0FuFlvSQHvUkxL1J1gw2M47_tYgnq20/s1600/DSC02500.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552307552288736018" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9D5sh4dT-_a9hXFlUTJrPSQzL8Z92GkFtkSApddg5MVGF5Hfp76676Zkb7UPMpvhjHwTPV3X2rC2tYPXsbiIB0mS6j4RveyWpM5vmweEI9oaE0FuFlvSQHvUkxL1J1gw2M47_tYgnq20/s320/DSC02500.JPG" /></a>The highlight of KL was really the Islamic Art Museum. Not only is it housed in a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">magnificent</span> building, but also had some interesting exhibits on everything from mosque architecture, to jewelry, calligraphy, textiles, etc. organized by region. </div><br /><div>After these few attractions I realized the only thing left was malls--- KL is a city of mega malls, most of them very upscale. The Christmas decorations were funny and over-the-top, especially given this is a Muslim country, and the food and movies (I saw "Unstoppable") were nice, but I really needed to get out of town before I started shopping.<br /></div><div></div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXKEDeYLssAEeeUZILEsiiidyAnwRaN8wusBbx4PSeYgvCmRiWhaVlQ_hA4m5L6cKB79NXT4vYIYHs4Iwaotd71e6fQRcB7Efc_WkfvQV1iv68hpQJlmw1wBmsYxb-2LsQFOnCRNYDV2I/s1600/DSC02493.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552307545338103538" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXKEDeYLssAEeeUZILEsiiidyAnwRaN8wusBbx4PSeYgvCmRiWhaVlQ_hA4m5L6cKB79NXT4vYIYHs4Iwaotd71e6fQRcB7Efc_WkfvQV1iv68hpQJlmw1wBmsYxb-2LsQFOnCRNYDV2I/s320/DSC02493.JPG" /></a>One last thing before fleeing--- go to the top of the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-error">Petronas</span> Towers, the 451.9m twin towers built in 1998, formerly the world's tallest buildings before the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" class="blsp-spelling-error">Taipai</span> 101 Tower went up in 2003 (and most recently the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" class="blsp-spelling-error">Burj</span> Dubai Tower). Unfortunately tickets were already sold out for the day. Fortunately, it soon started pouring down rain so I wouldn't have been able to see anything anyway, and it wasn't cheap! </div><div><br />The bad part-- of course the Towers have a mall attached so I had to reinvest my time in shopping and spending too much money. On the plus side you will get to see me in different outfits in the photos ;-) </div><br /><div>For whatever reason the bus station is a good 45 minutes drive from the city. Since it was raining I took at cab for 50 Ringgit to the station to then be hurried into a bus that was "leaving right now!" (for 12 Ringgit- I don't get the pricing here!) Yeah, the bus left a hour later as I got more and more annoyed being stuck inside with no snack or water. Ugh! </div><br /><div>In a couple hours I was in Malacca (which seems to be spelled three different ways), yet another World Heritage City. First settled by the Chinese, followed by the Portuguese in 1509, then the Dutch in 1641 and the Brits in 1795, all were trying to stake claim to the Asian trade routes. </div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM4Ln1AmCvrPOSLRcJ6GrukqAWkZv01itNZWabMsI6XcWJAvk5K7xa_J1h3riIyvXlhw56YCHt7xwE2l9V8Yag9qe4AQA9U8C51a23UyO7Pqw1Bywlcradvu18sGm1294UfYXyfj7_Uvk/s1600/DSC02516.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552307562328302882" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM4Ln1AmCvrPOSLRcJ6GrukqAWkZv01itNZWabMsI6XcWJAvk5K7xa_J1h3riIyvXlhw56YCHt7xwE2l9V8Yag9qe4AQA9U8C51a23UyO7Pqw1Bywlcradvu18sGm1294UfYXyfj7_Uvk/s320/DSC02516.JPG" /></a>Again I walked all over town (getting a wee lost once) and saw all the old colonial buildings in Dutch Square, including <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_12" class="blsp-spelling-error">Stadthuys</span> (1660) and Christ Church (1753), the oldest protestant church in Malaysia. All the old buildings are painted a red color- rumor is that dirt kept staining the buildings so the Brits decided it was easier to paint the buildings that color so they would always look nice (the other theory- to mask stains left from the constant spitting by passers-by- <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_13" class="blsp-spelling-error">ewwwwhhhh</span>!)<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_YIaaW3aVpI_gK38Tw7E64cy5qDMcYUA9Oy4ehKYd-p1xXhuQEX9mDQvACCNTlX3zaaO1f7BUCHs5rDjzR6KHMywi8hOwExZy4NBOuQm7WodJ0G1BYMKCHuQFWkMrRkYL13PqmQDrRYk/s1600/DSC02515.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552307566683553970" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_YIaaW3aVpI_gK38Tw7E64cy5qDMcYUA9Oy4ehKYd-p1xXhuQEX9mDQvACCNTlX3zaaO1f7BUCHs5rDjzR6KHMywi8hOwExZy4NBOuQm7WodJ0G1BYMKCHuQFWkMrRkYL13PqmQDrRYk/s320/DSC02515.JPG" /></a>The charming little town, with the river separating the Chinese and European areas, was really adorable, but again not much to do and absolutely no nightlife. The main amusement came from the garishly decorated <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_14" class="blsp-spelling-error">trishaws</span> that blasted bad American pop music-- bazaar!<br /><br /></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>Old Malacca, aka Chinatown, is the residential area west of the river with tons of cute shops, cafes and restaurants (which never seemed open). Harmony Street was cool in that it contains the houses of worship for Malaysia's three main faiths - the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_15" class="blsp-spelling-error">Cheng</span> <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_16" class="blsp-spelling-error">Hoon</span> <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_17" class="blsp-spelling-error">Teng</span> Chinese temple, the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_18" class="blsp-spelling-error">Sri</span> <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_19" class="blsp-spelling-error">Poyatha</span> <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_20" class="blsp-spelling-error">Vinayagar</span> <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_21" class="blsp-spelling-error">Moorthi</span> Hindu Temple and the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_22" class="blsp-spelling-error">Kampung</span> <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_23" class="blsp-spelling-error">Kling</span> Mosque.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbIUnJuP8S8_gOSEcnB0ESjNZ4-6bBQgWWXGtY2KOwaxh1MkOkPJrgu_Bg-a6d1niZ7Go-B00QXH_h8ltDtzJaFxqnIoSt3Iq5ju44nYh7WDXMvjWSCcosNWHX3Yo8QB74n9gemTMKA6c/s1600/DSC02505.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552307557697263394" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbIUnJuP8S8_gOSEcnB0ESjNZ4-6bBQgWWXGtY2KOwaxh1MkOkPJrgu_Bg-a6d1niZ7Go-B00QXH_h8ltDtzJaFxqnIoSt3Iq5ju44nYh7WDXMvjWSCcosNWHX3Yo8QB74n9gemTMKA6c/s320/DSC02505.JPG" /></a>The best part is that Malaysians are known for their good food, and I did eat well in both KL and Malacca. The Indian food at <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_24" class="blsp-spelling-error">Pak</span> <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_25" class="blsp-spelling-error">Putra</span> Tandoori and <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_26" class="blsp-spelling-error">Naan</span> Restaurant, sitting in plastic chairs street side, was the best I've ever had. Sure, the other attempts at food were a little frustrating since the town appeared deserted after 8pm-- not sure why nothing was open, but I guess there weren't any customers beating down their doors besides me.</div><br /><div>After a few nights here (a whopping four in Malaysia) with nothing to do other than hang out and Thanksgiving approaching, it was time to head in a new direction. </div><br /><div></div><div>(I had intended to return to Malaysia to visit <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_27" class="blsp-spelling-error">Penang</span> and <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_28" class="blsp-spelling-error">Langkawi</span>, but it never happened. Next time!)</div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03761254329951728715noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7077756613019007351.post-63457927503808420132010-12-05T23:54:00.046-05:002010-12-14T05:34:50.383-05:0012 Days of FameAfter the minor interrogation at the Myanmar Embassy in Bangkok to get the visa and withdrawing a ton of US dollars, I was off to Myanmar (you may know it as Burma since the US and many other countries do not recognise the legitimacy of the ruling military government that changed the name in 1989).<br /><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj08p-eI9vtDy8UOIkqpppMOgUrzdZF7Kf3Msofz_ESchaJy-_zFr2rf64TQWUdMxBd7-H2VjfKZhgaKwMp98FYH1jdXptFm96Hfu_Y070JBn9anAlVCxaFjMZmtuuyo0a4sWrFqOPJYv8/s1600/DSC01781.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549883751811066194" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj08p-eI9vtDy8UOIkqpppMOgUrzdZF7Kf3Msofz_ESchaJy-_zFr2rf64TQWUdMxBd7-H2VjfKZhgaKwMp98FYH1jdXptFm96Hfu_Y070JBn9anAlVCxaFjMZmtuuyo0a4sWrFqOPJYv8/s320/DSC01781.JPG" /></a></div><div></div><div>As much of a hassle as the government makes it to get there and spend (they will only accept perfect, crisp US bills-- literally one with a pencil mark was rejected!!!), the Burmese people make it well worth the effort. </div><br /><div>This is one of the best places I have been, if not THE best based on the local people. They have little, live under an oppressive military junta, yet are the most gracious, kind, peaceful and friendly people in the world (and now I feel I can say that having been to a large chunk of it). Numerous people along my travels encouraged me to go to Myanmar- boy were they right!</div><br /><div></div><div>And as an added bonus, I got to experience it with Evaline who made the trip from Chicago for some major culture shock!</div><br /><div></div><div>I arrived in Yangon (formerly Rangoon) to an eerily quiet airport and a taxi driver who was driving around with his "lady"- I think I was the third wheel on their date!<br /><br /></div><div></div><div>After a quest to find breakfast we headed for the National Museum (where they rejected my $5 bill) to see the famous 26ft-high Sihasana (Lion Throne), which belonged to King Thibaw Min, the last king of Myanmar. The museum was seriously like a grammar school science fair. Sure the Throne was cool, but the <strong>photocopies </strong>of ancient script less so. They also had a foreigner only toilet that we still don't understand- it didn't seem the standards were any better. </div><br /><div></div><div>When traveling to Myanmar you make efforts to avoid government run facilities or transportation (e.g., the railway or Myanma Airlines), but unfortunately this $5 went right into the hands of the generals. However, we felt good about scamming our way into other places or simply not going to avoid giving them money- sure they miss that $20 we withheld! ;-)</div><br /><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJlYeVAcZU_GHn64ez8K6SVrSMnGscoR8AlL14-T9xqibqAw837Eeq_7r7NHdwowbW8OFJn7GfY81hxmf1QLb-XXQPf2Ln9rM9TNodls9KGEtAX5Y8b2GSAAQ-NM_6VXZTV3v78aXi9X4/s1600/DSC01802.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5550477030896820194" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJlYeVAcZU_GHn64ez8K6SVrSMnGscoR8AlL14-T9xqibqAw837Eeq_7r7NHdwowbW8OFJn7GfY81hxmf1QLb-XXQPf2Ln9rM9TNodls9KGEtAX5Y8b2GSAAQ-NM_6VXZTV3v78aXi9X4/s320/DSC01802.JPG" /></a>After lunch at Taste Myanmar Foods, where we could pick from an entire buffet of local food (we picked something crazy spicy, but there was one thing I wanted that they refused to serve me knowing it would blow my head off), we spent a few hours by the pool until the main attraction.</div><div></div><br /><div>The Shwedagon Pagoda was awesome and the amazing guide we hired at the entrance, added so much to the experience-- we now have lots of health, wealth, good fortune and a long life based on him having us water our planetary post (aka day of birth symbol- I am a tiger), ring a big bell, pick up a stone (Nixon did it and his wish came true to be President... <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3lXTasWg3g5Mv1oOHLkGf9sw8IA8uCDQnVIE4W9jAZiTJoK4jcnbujDXaZcyU8WEkl-gUyeb4HubusZLR6jT1Pbb0DHejQlXcXIu1PDp-WN2qzyC3Ns74ilS22YyRlaIhYUujJlpG7Pc/s1600/DSC01789.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5547435116501487458" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3lXTasWg3g5Mv1oOHLkGf9sw8IA8uCDQnVIE4W9jAZiTJoK4jcnbujDXaZcyU8WEkl-gUyeb4HubusZLR6jT1Pbb0DHejQlXcXIu1PDp-WN2qzyC3Ns74ilS22YyRlaIhYUujJlpG7Pc/s320/DSC01789.JPG" /></a>uh oh!), fan a Buddha and climb under a bell (still not sure what that was about). </div><br /><div>The 321.5 foot stupa, the most sacred site in Myanmar since relics of the past four Buddhas are enshrined within, is gold plated every 5 years and has a 76 carat diamond atop, along with 5,448 diamonds and 2,317 rubies. Sure you can't see the diamond (I had questioned if it was fake), but from one obscure point you could move a step each way and see how the color changed from purple to blue to red, etc. It was super cool!</div><div></div><br /><div>Koko told us that some of the diamonds were blown off by the Tsunami a few years back- some people returned them to the monks and others kept them- I said those people must have thought their prayers for wealth had been answered ;-)</div><div></div><br /><div>Afterwards we walked to a nearby restaurant along a sidewalk with frequent giant holes to fall through (the restaurant was closed- apparently a lot closed when tourism took a blow after they shot monks in the street a few years back, go figure!). Instead we had a drink at the Kandawgyi Palace Hotel right on the lake (my Green Spider cocktail tasted just like mouthwash) with a fabulous view of the most ridiculous government built monstrosity--- Karaweik, a huge, concrete replica of a Burmese royal barge built in 1972. </div><div></div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKzQqisOg07_J_E4hQPGuvf86VNVQ9vq_1xcPj9tg8WlZbF7tZJpaLDA5l5q_p2tYMIRDy__TwSDINn5XVSxFOOxprwITju83vTnK80HTMUXbxudJCoa3pAuihA_0GhGECiCdFr9cXbJY/s1600/DSC01811.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5547435136886779634" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKzQqisOg07_J_E4hQPGuvf86VNVQ9vq_1xcPj9tg8WlZbF7tZJpaLDA5l5q_p2tYMIRDy__TwSDINn5XVSxFOOxprwITju83vTnK80HTMUXbxudJCoa3pAuihA_0GhGECiCdFr9cXbJY/s320/DSC01811.JPG" /></a>The next morning after a trip to J Donuts (it was that or the basket of crickets/roach looking things in the basket outside) we went to Bogyoke Aung San Market where Evaline haggling over $1 on placements as I spent a whole $1 on a bamboo ring (that I received some compliments on).</div><div></div><br /><div>On the way to 999 Shah Noodles (my favorite, bargain hole in the wall) some random man was offering massages. Per my previous Asian blogs you know how I like a massage, but "I like you, I want to massage you" was not so enticing! </div><div></div><br /><div>After more pool time, or an attempt at pool time since for some reason they open up the hotel pool to a school group (we were not happy to be joined by screaming kids and <em>maybe</em> complained), it was time to make the hour trek to the bus station.<br /><br /></div><div></div><div>Oy, I have been to a lot of bus stations, but this one was seriously the worst by far- unpaved, dirty, chaos! We then departed on a 13 hour ride where par usual they played loud music and sitcoms on the TV. Evaline was still confused that the bus was lacking business class style seating, but thankfully "Gossip Girl" on my laptop got us through! Plus, of course, I had my Ambien and managed to sleep through <em>another</em> breakdown (this time they locked me in the bus). </div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_JbbtqK_u7hzLozPA5dT-Dg3IhYWz_RAy9ai7vbTe-Zx2J2HVOZt1kfrvybMAJSFv3jHAundNu8-YW7K4zZf7_fefmRLDyGFjpOBfA2RG07E8KLuDvi1AaZlw3mktMjTAQ_GzZEh-nPA/s1600/DSC01835.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5547435146731738034" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_JbbtqK_u7hzLozPA5dT-Dg3IhYWz_RAy9ai7vbTe-Zx2J2HVOZt1kfrvybMAJSFv3jHAundNu8-YW7K4zZf7_fefmRLDyGFjpOBfA2RG07E8KLuDvi1AaZlw3mktMjTAQ_GzZEh-nPA/s320/DSC01835.JPG" /></a>Arriving in Mandalay was hilarious, first because the mini blue taxis that took us around, but also because we were celebrities here--- literally bus loads of people would be waving to us and people on motorbikes would say "welcome to Myanmar"- so sweet! As you can see from the picture- a bus load is a lot of people! Driving on the roads here is so retro since all the cars are so old--- you feel like you are in a bad 70's show.</div><div></div><br /><div>The Lonely Planet ("your guide" since it is the only one) walking tour pretty much took us to all the central sites (that didn't require the government entry fees) including the produce market, more wats and several random run ins with Mr. Htoo who made us look him up in Lonely Planet (he was very proud).</div><div><br />Running out of attractions we took a blue taxi to a teak monastery where we had our <em>first</em> run in with the Malaysian photographers. We were sitting on the floor of the monastery and realized the Malaysians were photographing US-- all this way to shoot Americans in Mandalay? Then they started art directing-- wanting a "natural look", "pose", "supermodel". It was pretty hilarious and confusing at the same time.</div><div></div><br /><div>Later we attempted to see the sunset from Mandalay Hill, a stupa-studded hill looming over the flat cityscape, but our little tuk tuk that could (or couldn't) didn't really get us there in time. However, we did get to chat with some little monks (13 & 14 years old) who were practicing their English before being personally escorted down the zillion steps in the dark by two slightly older monks. I had a lovely chat about Chinese movies (he doesn't like them since the fighting is unrealistic), American movies (that he likes because of the action- doesn't sound very monkly?) and "Harry Potter". </div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAiyRh3RfGqBoiKcI9Qe86F8nadbCkDNi9mcbiVf2ixIYKh9F8KhHXnyXqdZAKGbb4PsCEJKB_6qtydce_IizxgL6w6sXT1n2qD_Nk0hPToQfoOkpGoTMmp_MoWdRlXF8Yv3OTaXQuPBI/s1600/DSC01872.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548440780723999922" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAiyRh3RfGqBoiKcI9Qe86F8nadbCkDNi9mcbiVf2ixIYKh9F8KhHXnyXqdZAKGbb4PsCEJKB_6qtydce_IizxgL6w6sXT1n2qD_Nk0hPToQfoOkpGoTMmp_MoWdRlXF8Yv3OTaXQuPBI/s320/DSC01872.JPG" /></a>Sweetly our rickety tuk tuk waited for us- little did we know it had no lights so we were nearly run over by a tour bus as they laughed at us, before running out of petrol (awh, felt bad for our driver).<br /><br /></div><div></div><div>All was good though, since we then learned that Aung San Suu Kyi was just released. The strange part- we didn't know if any of the Burmese knew since they don't have CNN. It was really too bad we didn't stay in Yangon one more day to celebrate!<br /><br /></div><div></div><div>Then the day just got better when we met Gypsy. We thought he was going to drive us to Nylon Ice Cream Parlour in a blue taxi, but turned out he was a trishaw driver. We were not game to have someone bike us across town, but Gypsy was persuasive in his down jacket (we were in shorts- it was NOT cold and we totally teased him about it!).</div><div></div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguGk6Mmqs9q2BnjURKeXwjFzsC1swO3NeiknEUmoBL4nmlCLxHEZYzRm6dpMaeaU3SIj6Eau8GwbsW1gFK1L0MAE6k8g3jyvBfKwb-pNJ_hLI1GQQcTjX8eYwxonBV7DarmBzvckZTuvU/s1600/DSC01889.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5547440420457953026" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguGk6Mmqs9q2BnjURKeXwjFzsC1swO3NeiknEUmoBL4nmlCLxHEZYzRm6dpMaeaU3SIj6Eau8GwbsW1gFK1L0MAE6k8g3jyvBfKwb-pNJ_hLI1GQQcTjX8eYwxonBV7DarmBzvckZTuvU/s320/DSC01889.JPG" /></a>We hired one of the decent blue taxis we had already taken around town for a day trip. Mae Mae (who also hates Chinese movies for the same reason) took us pretty much everywhere. </div><div></div><br /><div>Before hitting the sites we saw pretty much every handicraft shop-- Buddha sculpting, gold leafing, silk weaving, wood carving, tapestry, puppet making, etc., etc. All of it a ton of manual work! And no commission for him- we didn't buy anything.<br /><br /></div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA38h8GKH0nMkxBgXidFLrjDVgxOlfrvUf_V_RJayoup6ZtbtJrXkQe1f-lv3YUKavK2GK9ehzLVOj4YcAagfIGU13_I8ewt1hWN9qwQNFm8ajsi7AA4l5Uw9QqlpgAZ5wpOyzhgFbtOA/s1600/DSC01925.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5547440425161144770" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA38h8GKH0nMkxBgXidFLrjDVgxOlfrvUf_V_RJayoup6ZtbtJrXkQe1f-lv3YUKavK2GK9ehzLVOj4YcAagfIGU13_I8ewt1hWN9qwQNFm8ajsi7AA4l5Uw9QqlpgAZ5wpOyzhgFbtOA/s320/DSC01925.JPG" /></a> Then it was off to Amarapura and Maha Gandhayon Kyaung, a monastery with thousands of monks who eat in total silence at 10am. First they line up and process into the dining room through a crowd of tourist snapping photos (of course the Malaysians were there!). It was an odd experience.<br /><br /></div><div></div><div>Following the monks eating we walked across U <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIutFwbv1kjBTaB95Z0XG0I9RMME5FGKs1c9pdAxGC9dlskxloyRcm01V3-mbhYM82OLHAEpgy5EWUP-EosuMphpkEnEohwUpiJGspx7QmPJhbn2C3jujuBGxQjO1bbiRH0WpcB2BPUe8/s1600/DSC01932.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549883758493858178" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIutFwbv1kjBTaB95Z0XG0I9RMME5FGKs1c9pdAxGC9dlskxloyRcm01V3-mbhYM82OLHAEpgy5EWUP-EosuMphpkEnEohwUpiJGspx7QmPJhbn2C3jujuBGxQjO1bbiRH0WpcB2BPUe8/s320/DSC01932.JPG" /></a>Bein Bridge, the longest teak bridge in the world (1.2 km), where i met Josef, the worst salesman who tried to sell me "real jade, not plastic" for $1 and told me how they overcharge the French and Italian tourists. We did go back later for sunset, but I couldn't find Josef anymore. He did have all sorts of helpful tid bits-- kids here are so clever!</div><div><br />We also had our pictures taken again <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKP65hz8JhoQZRpoLsCvpZ4vCVq_JUTPqjmEC3jMrLYqBy4Dr6NBC4ND31uDJQKJZ7bIm0iblMlbZ6ngjG44BHp0DF9J6mtWHKLG4OLvmNoFcAH_IyQiIo8pPT3gMPmrG_d_PGQTCddnw/s1600/DSC02003.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5547440437016690322" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKP65hz8JhoQZRpoLsCvpZ4vCVq_JUTPqjmEC3jMrLYqBy4Dr6NBC4ND31uDJQKJZ7bIm0iblMlbZ6ngjG44BHp0DF9J6mtWHKLG4OLvmNoFcAH_IyQiIo8pPT3gMPmrG_d_PGQTCddnw/s320/DSC02003.JPG" /></a>with some local women who hold your hand--- not sure why they want a photo with a white woman, but it happened several times. This time I made sure to get a pic of them as well ;-)<br /><br />Good thing we walked across the bridge before we took the sunset boat ride and could see how deteriorated some of the poles are keeping that bridge up!</div><br /><div>Afterwards we hiked up another long flight of steps to yet another wat before driving to Ava (formerly Innwa), capital of Burma from 1364-1841. First you have to cross the Ayeyarwady River by boat and then hop a horse cart to all the sites, including a leaning watch tower (structurally sound?, doubt it!) and another teak monastery (victory, we snuck in with a tour group to avoid the government fee).</div><div></div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivEYQ_9MGtywLKC6N-XtduGwgBwygwzvYJzYL7D07Lgtw5JL6_gUTu5o4LiLhZf62uw92usOFgVFDC_8Cl9IZHR2ZVqOPu2ve83aMtAyqqISs9u7_VvqmVc4atTC-bjdJ1WX3-3I6NceA/s1600/DSC02064.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5547454777863401138" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivEYQ_9MGtywLKC6N-XtduGwgBwygwzvYJzYL7D07Lgtw5JL6_gUTu5o4LiLhZf62uw92usOFgVFDC_8Cl9IZHR2ZVqOPu2ve83aMtAyqqISs9u7_VvqmVc4atTC-bjdJ1WX3-3I6NceA/s320/DSC02064.JPG" /></a>Next up: Bagan, but first we need that taxi to show up! Yes, we had a 5:30 am taxi scheduled, but none came. It was a hour of mega frustration and snippiness (an oddity since service in Myanmar is amazingly good), but eventually we got in the "nice" car they were sending for us. Yes, per Evaline's vision it was a black luxury car, it just so happens that black Mercedes was beyond retro, complete with holes in the floor!<br /><br /></div><div></div><div>Once we arrived in Bagan it was all good. We were greeted by Kyaw at Bagan airport. He was offering his tour services, but generally happy to chat and was pleased we were avoiding the government fees. Sadly, he said that he was trying to live a good life now since he felt they were being punished for past wrongdoings with the current government- perhaps they will have a better king in next life. Awh :-( </div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRB4ne-vYCyJwV8rUmTFzwOMGCiALzYpwFHPzBsAlqzGcaIa1zzVHn2OEw72pQgG7d-MgeT6Ki-JTncKV5AK_0IymLSpSTMTttAaWL64BDLOjw46lLUXuKv9dHKDrrDg2sTfY_RBuM25M/s1600/DSC02045.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5547463131414477426" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRB4ne-vYCyJwV8rUmTFzwOMGCiALzYpwFHPzBsAlqzGcaIa1zzVHn2OEw72pQgG7d-MgeT6Ki-JTncKV5AK_0IymLSpSTMTttAaWL64BDLOjw46lLUXuKv9dHKDrrDg2sTfY_RBuM25M/s320/DSC02045.JPG" /></a>The (touchy) guy at the Kumudara Hotel was very helpful in planning our route around the 4,400 temples that have dotted the landscape for over 800 years. Apparently the way to get around the temples is by horse cart. Not the quickest transport, but Lucky eventually did get us everywhere we needed. </div><div></div><br /><div>Our favorites were the temples you could climb atop to see spectacular views of the countryside's different style and sized stupas.<br /></div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9hqWGj2pS6iPYZI2lemADgkNjkSvWeLZx4Zh_6hoiYw5xJGL-YX8dqkZ6hdqA0ED-1l-N-kcUBfnk2Ys_giIB939FSJf-kY9rffuU6HR5ZOAPCCnPDuhEh5h1y4dDecB1aNq4iUOdLAE/s1600/DSC02052.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5547454774514783682" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9hqWGj2pS6iPYZI2lemADgkNjkSvWeLZx4Zh_6hoiYw5xJGL-YX8dqkZ6hdqA0ED-1l-N-kcUBfnk2Ys_giIB939FSJf-kY9rffuU6HR5ZOAPCCnPDuhEh5h1y4dDecB1aNq4iUOdLAE/s320/DSC02052.JPG" /></a>On route we visited a small village where the most adorable 12-year-old girl, Zha Zha, showed us how they spin cotton, weave, make sesame/peanut paste, cook, make bamboo frames, plus we got the extra bonus of seeing their reservoir. She always wanted us to "sit/take photo, no problem." I so wanted to take her home- she was SO clever and just had the misfortune of being born in this tiny village in Myanmar. (Oh, you might be wondering why the locals all have a paste on their faces-- it is sandlewood and used as sunscreen- Zha Zha really wanted to apply some to my cheeks).</div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAVlXXBDRkH-loXDHprg4kdEq4nk6gaNxvltyElLXLhk-rTRc_AfmHFZ0i-O8JGotQniQ7OYk3I1lMNzlyLFrQevBM2Vyd6a4QmhqdQMF_9reqzVXLl2skmxNZNwW4khyphenhyphenbk279ugB86jM/s1600/DSC02097.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5547454784590326610" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAVlXXBDRkH-loXDHprg4kdEq4nk6gaNxvltyElLXLhk-rTRc_AfmHFZ0i-O8JGotQniQ7OYk3I1lMNzlyLFrQevBM2Vyd6a4QmhqdQMF_9reqzVXLl2skmxNZNwW4khyphenhyphenbk279ugB86jM/s320/DSC02097.JPG" /></a></div><div>At one of the nice temples we ran into yet another group of camera crazy Malaysians--- but this time they were actually posing the wee monks-- it was comedy!</div><div></div><br /><div>We also ventured a little out of the way for the "sunset for the adventure seekers." Apparently everyone is an adventure seeker because it was packed full of people, but the sun going down over all the temples was a brilliant sight!</div></div><div><br /><div>We got back in time for a delicious dinner at the hotel restaurant and an interesting conversation with the restaurant manager who was very frank about life in Myanmar, specifically New Bagan which was created in 1990 when the government forced all the residents of Old Bagan out with force.<br /><br />The next morning we opted for bikes as opposed to the rather uncomfortable horse cart. We thought it would be way quicker, but little did we know we would run into more chatty locals while on bikes. One woman seemed to want to tour us around until we made a quick escape when she turned into a temple and we didn't follow--- it was ridiculous.</div><br /><div></div><div>We rode around all the temples of Old Bagan with other locals guiding us inside the temples (some with flashlights) in exchange for us looking at their wares for sale. Okay, I will by some lacquer ware!<br /><br /></div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF8f6JAm5YmxICmvb7DZkX4-2L6tvekpFMR5nSn19jtQjy41RqJ_6mY4ziAqyA1cV9fu0gcaWEEDVCqsd6AMqAxBIWJaXYSpd_nA2vJ0waOgEC0wd6kOdui29bMXU4xAO-x-40Hwr9cwE/s1600/DSC02248.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549883767594758610" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF8f6JAm5YmxICmvb7DZkX4-2L6tvekpFMR5nSn19jtQjy41RqJ_6mY4ziAqyA1cV9fu0gcaWEEDVCqsd6AMqAxBIWJaXYSpd_nA2vJ0waOgEC0wd6kOdui29bMXU4xAO-x-40Hwr9cwE/s320/DSC02248.JPG" /></a>After another swim and a few tasty meals at The Moon, sunset at The Elephant and dinner in Nyuang U, we were ready to say goodbye to Bagan.</div><br /><div>Hello Inle Lake!</div><br /><div></div><div>Inle Lake is a pretty rural, with a town on land, but the bulk of action on the lake where there are floating gardens, stilted villages and crumbling stupas.</div><br /><div>After we "rocked up" at The Amazing hotel who found us a room despite it being full (we sent them an email to book, but since there never appears to be Internet access they never got it), we explored the market since it was the big day in town (the market rotates to a new location every 5 days). </div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5x7cKoGeYsYd_IXSkLrW7dKLVjYUXuzCJ5VPDbWRi_6f_jl6uy9OIIcJgha6z2mAK1f_p6odpp0PrXIXnRxzS_4gQ39K7EsQthQxe-5aBlPSckwyJcen1M1XtDn9j8ovJ2a3w6ivaGpk/s1600/DSC02292.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5547458281274053634" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5x7cKoGeYsYd_IXSkLrW7dKLVjYUXuzCJ5VPDbWRi_6f_jl6uy9OIIcJgha6z2mAK1f_p6odpp0PrXIXnRxzS_4gQ39K7EsQthQxe-5aBlPSckwyJcen1M1XtDn9j8ovJ2a3w6ivaGpk/s320/DSC02292.JPG" /></a>We had more greetings of "Welcome to Myanmar," once from a monk on the back of a moto as we biked the wrong way (aka more difficult) to the hot springs, through a village and across the lake befort returning to town with a sore bum. </div><div><br />In the village we ate some mystery thing fresh out of the hot oil. Later we were both sick-- was it this? meat? some friend crisp thing in the market? Sadly Evaline took the bulk of it-- my <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCsYLl6DHs-s4tQ4FmckOG4yjt8W2lbdql7Uqx1RqwS4E4yU91vrtrU13E7SX9NBt9c0QGWcBsZoLeHm61S3pvTpnFJtI6vvcCNc_6SxdkA6IHcdgSofKMsa0qoQUleOSYd-WXx4HRte8/s1600/DSC02330.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5547458294924562130" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCsYLl6DHs-s4tQ4FmckOG4yjt8W2lbdql7Uqx1RqwS4E4yU91vrtrU13E7SX9NBt9c0QGWcBsZoLeHm61S3pvTpnFJtI6vvcCNc_6SxdkA6IHcdgSofKMsa0qoQUleOSYd-WXx4HRte8/s320/DSC02330.JPG" /></a>system must be sufficiently hearty after brushing my teeth with local water around the world.<br /></div><br /><div>When in Inle Lake you MUST take a boat trip around the lake to see the sites. After an hour and a half we reached the market where we haggled over some silver jewelry and a woman attempted to nurse evaline back to heath with various remidies and suggested she go to the medical tent (if you saw this village you woudl be sceptical of the medical tent!). It was very <div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXohCXIckwAX-7itFvWISQD5mqWG9ZoZvW7iG20lD9slKSshS-Aa1wyR7hAEsUFAoQiGC22sQZoRUoGDnFpzHeqx4zN478A0DSXjpGaBEXnCa_CkgsCcgzdzLrXXXrrPEm76ehRtnSbyA/s1600/DSC02327.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5547458288658040370" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXohCXIckwAX-7itFvWISQD5mqWG9ZoZvW7iG20lD9slKSshS-Aa1wyR7hAEsUFAoQiGC22sQZoRUoGDnFpzHeqx4zN478A0DSXjpGaBEXnCa_CkgsCcgzdzLrXXXrrPEm76ehRtnSbyA/s320/DSC02327.JPG" /></a></div>sweet how they all wanted to help. </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXohCXIckwAX-7itFvWISQD5mqWG9ZoZvW7iG20lD9slKSshS-Aa1wyR7hAEsUFAoQiGC22sQZoRUoGDnFpzHeqx4zN478A0DSXjpGaBEXnCa_CkgsCcgzdzLrXXXrrPEm76ehRtnSbyA/s1600/DSC02327.JPG"></a></div><br /><div>Like Mandalay, we again visited a lot of handicraft shops on the lake including: silk/lotus weaving (you need something like 8000 lotus plants to make one scarf!), cigarette making, a blacksmith, paper umbrella making (complete with some long neck women that I found beyond disturbing) and silver making.<br /><br /></div><div></div><div>We also drove through the floating gardens--- dad, you like water and tomatoes, maybe you should pack your bags??? Not sure how it works, but they have rows and rows of crops floating and tend to them by boat.</div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUZb4kf3dLFtj6neUHbaT8iUYtUiqG9Mq3yls9oyPy225wnP7NKhPVvVsFsPv95H3nkXKSA-1U52hX2wBwzFPFTtLnE2-H0xf5OzD1ODawt5ZfKl7l29r878NUskn586DCKURvtH6Qqp8/s1600/DSC02398.JPG"></a></div>The highlight was the monestary with the jumping cats. When we arrived we were told the cats were not jumping today- lazy! But guess who was there--- our Malaysian friends from Mandalay! We were very excited to see eachother. And thankfully a monk did put on a cat jumping show for us. Again- strange!</div><br /><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBP9mp4-r7wM3U2HIyPs9DIeAcyF6T2-ogJnd92DH3FuLmgSF4fhXvqYB9yJ6Lx4_1OLZr9YprAZCTFkhB6EPl8ZJh13gn5ni7DE26BnZdXpV_iLnMK4PwKp51GtHBofolCkmML8AzvJU/s1600/DSC02378.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5547458304651796290" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBP9mp4-r7wM3U2HIyPs9DIeAcyF6T2-ogJnd92DH3FuLmgSF4fhXvqYB9yJ6Lx4_1OLZr9YprAZCTFkhB6EPl8ZJh13gn5ni7DE26BnZdXpV_iLnMK4PwKp51GtHBofolCkmML8AzvJU/s320/DSC02378.JPG" /></a>Oops, my paper umbrella blew away!</div><br /><div></div><div>The next day we moved from our $56 Amazing hotel to a $12 guesthouse made of bamboo walls (aka loud) since the town was sold out due to the annual Fire Balloon Festival in Taunggyi, about an hour or so from Inle Lake.<br /><div></div></div><br /><div>Since we had time to kill and not much left to do it was time for some pampering-- it has been days since my last treatment ;-) This was a goodie-- a pedicure that lasted forever and a gift <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS6seLFaAgLggMznCX175Ca34AVfzEiVh-H3l5ljamnssKUJ2BwejsXZGotDLGT5Kk7LQMulnSuWPteY7R-4CgA-2N9zC7b8MAZsOsqJxlibY18PU4fX5S8WnuO4DDE-oImOQEYe7Ab-I/s1600/DSC02736.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548440795373717282" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS6seLFaAgLggMznCX175Ca34AVfzEiVh-H3l5ljamnssKUJ2BwejsXZGotDLGT5Kk7LQMulnSuWPteY7R-4CgA-2N9zC7b8MAZsOsqJxlibY18PU4fX5S8WnuO4DDE-oImOQEYe7Ab-I/s320/DSC02736.JPG" /></a>from the local woman--- toe art!!!!</div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS6seLFaAgLggMznCX175Ca34AVfzEiVh-H3l5ljamnssKUJ2BwejsXZGotDLGT5Kk7LQMulnSuWPteY7R-4CgA-2N9zC7b8MAZsOsqJxlibY18PU4fX5S8WnuO4DDE-oImOQEYe7Ab-I/s1600/DSC02736.JPG"></a></div><div>We drove to Taunggyi in another rickety, retro vehicle with a frenchman (this place was full of French for some reason) and a Malaysian woman, plus two locals basically sitting in the trunk. I had to keep making sure the passanger side door stayed shut since I didn't want Evaline falling out!</div><br /><div>The Fire Balloon Festival was great. The vineyard we stopped at on the way was far from great! When we arrived there were hundreds of small balloons in the air- the belief is that you are purging your sins with the release of the balloon.</div><div></div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU3HN25QreoB8hyphenhyphenmxjCy8wkrVMdAYysW8egyx7YDSoslM-V321BknhYybRvXyAugSGOkis-3Q8Z0Fn4bhPYTODfe7z_W6dd0GaBxpq85n5aUN6DVUAWkGyfZOsdr8iVrEaVfVXz_jiANM/s1600/DSC02478.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5547463136711354098" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU3HN25QreoB8hyphenhyphenmxjCy8wkrVMdAYysW8egyx7YDSoslM-V321BknhYybRvXyAugSGOkis-3Q8Z0Fn4bhPYTODfe7z_W6dd0GaBxpq85n5aUN6DVUAWkGyfZOsdr8iVrEaVfVXz_jiANM/s320/DSC02478.JPG" /></a>There was also a big carnival, food and several stages with live performances-- we loved the Royal Whisky area where we were stared at like aliens. </div><div></div><br /><div>But the real fun starts at 8pm when the competition begins. I am not sure if each balloon is for a town or a club, but either way you have amateurs lighting a balloon with fire very close to spectators. </div><div></div><br /><div>Some were covered with thousands of tiny candles, but the really cool ones had a trelise of fireworks attached that went off forever as the baloon rose. Sure, great idea, until the balloon doesn't lift in enough time. My photo essay on baloon gone wrong:</div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWtJpy1R9axcI_zGiZDIHQVfp_pQoJ3MwvzarEIhZIWKiAtlB2hHVrad1VOxquoVEqkOAlsi9ZlL_Exe7i5P2jj-zujrcpqEAo6dT7M6IB-gXXbBnndSqb5QaMDxE5T558Z3nPXx89XIQ/s1600/DSC02463.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5547461402865750434" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWtJpy1R9axcI_zGiZDIHQVfp_pQoJ3MwvzarEIhZIWKiAtlB2hHVrad1VOxquoVEqkOAlsi9ZlL_Exe7i5P2jj-zujrcpqEAo6dT7M6IB-gXXbBnndSqb5QaMDxE5T558Z3nPXx89XIQ/s320/DSC02463.JPG" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU4DOuiCD_33SKPqlp0sAyzTjSOiryd8E25gPhWwfdpf-QzHGoc5L11tP8zD5Jpie5CxEAFZTjEa71bkBQEmG9EaQtK8ECLMpiLLlzo5SDrmT-0Q6-ZufycExlxyaP_uza97GQYvqCppg/s1600/DSC02464.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5547461412496958610" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU4DOuiCD_33SKPqlp0sAyzTjSOiryd8E25gPhWwfdpf-QzHGoc5L11tP8zD5Jpie5CxEAFZTjEa71bkBQEmG9EaQtK8ECLMpiLLlzo5SDrmT-0Q6-ZufycExlxyaP_uza97GQYvqCppg/s320/DSC02464.JPG" /></a></div></div></div></div></div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicY0W9lJxSJRxf0CmCj-uhhancNgO_2O6TGx2i6GchWy871aIY5vXzCJDmFlnIUuu5g8wf1B3yrPQP-5gzjIPy-xDMGNL1fUHYNGaMFnVcQU0RMNuXj2ouutyTNGUed-ZS6eXpZVHOVNE/s1600/DSC02466.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5547461419677717458" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicY0W9lJxSJRxf0CmCj-uhhancNgO_2O6TGx2i6GchWy871aIY5vXzCJDmFlnIUuu5g8wf1B3yrPQP-5gzjIPy-xDMGNL1fUHYNGaMFnVcQU0RMNuXj2ouutyTNGUed-ZS6eXpZVHOVNE/s320/DSC02466.JPG" /></a></div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><div>Yes, a fireball! The crowd running and the 1930 fire engine to the rescue. Priceless! You can see above what is should have looked like. When it all works it is a pretty cool sight to see.</div><div></div><br /><div>The next morning we fly back to Yangon for a night before catching our flights out of Myanmar. The Sedona pool served me well, since I didn't do much other than sit there.</div><div></div><br /><div>The bellman informed us that one of the General's daughter was getting married there with 1,700 guests. We camped out in the lobby to get a glimpse, but then were pretty sure it was just a wealthy local, no government official.</div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7es2aJkQEVKkB0YDGH_NjB8qs3P6zLjgjdvF29CdM2MS1JB_n5X8IYgfB7W3F0ydw5-Xo6JlPxqITkKRJ_W8H5L8GsK5tZhLcfjE0BHElyUuEdPzSgWa8BVtiNwDMfaGjuXC2a8d06lo/s1600/DSC02483.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5547463112027286434" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7es2aJkQEVKkB0YDGH_NjB8qs3P6zLjgjdvF29CdM2MS1JB_n5X8IYgfB7W3F0ydw5-Xo6JlPxqITkKRJ_W8H5L8GsK5tZhLcfjE0BHElyUuEdPzSgWa8BVtiNwDMfaGjuXC2a8d06lo/s320/DSC02483.JPG" /></a>In fact the bellman was right, just the wrong day! When I left the next day outside the hotel was like a miliary zone--- and I had no idea sitting inside the lobby that anything was going on. Now that would have been some interesting people watching!!!!</div><br /><div></div><div>Back to Yangon Airport where I couldn't help but notice that political correctness skipped Myanmar!!!</div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03761254329951728715noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7077756613019007351.post-59398962647053252972010-11-09T02:51:00.016-05:002010-11-30T03:35:57.245-05:00Long Way Through LaosBefore heading to Laos I made a quick detour to Bangkok, Thailand to take care of some business-- basically getting my hair done, mailing Christmas presents, replacing the phone and prescription sunglasses I lost in Nepal and getting a visa for Myanmar (preview of the upcoming post).<br /><div><div><div></div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGTzuIzY2SYJXxBLflbu_u89HsYEku21mCrk84Irtroshyphenhyphenz2-MhFTRUo2D8enM1m11Wihrh3sGsuU-Up3rg1bqwxh5Nm9ozGKzesiAIpTZc-dOq32wwT6GzzVVcl0pQ01moLZoGugVzrA/s1600/DSC01352.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544879785746999090" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGTzuIzY2SYJXxBLflbu_u89HsYEku21mCrk84Irtroshyphenhyphenz2-MhFTRUo2D8enM1m11Wihrh3sGsuU-Up3rg1bqwxh5Nm9ozGKzesiAIpTZc-dOq32wwT6GzzVVcl0pQ01moLZoGugVzrA/s320/DSC01352.JPG" /></a>It's always nice to be back in semi civilization for a bit with all the comforts of a big city. In the case of Bangkok, that means malls and good food (and now a Krispy Kream which the Thai people were obviously very excited about-- will they still be when they are all chub chub??). </div><div></div><br /><div>Sure I was staying next to the (free) art museum that I really wanted to visit, but I just ran out of time with all sorts of beautifying.<br /></div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMvP5XvnaiEbsQacdfM9zPsxnB9YVoDBa7WBG2rP7KuGUk3hD4XyvI-sWnQJl-kDrcXD_at4pNH8aB17YsFM_ftt4uhyphenhyphenMIIqTShpag0B3kMyUsFhoj_dXvGegb-sZoiOOUgs9ebZJ3jfM/s1600/DSC01382.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544879795915127074" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMvP5XvnaiEbsQacdfM9zPsxnB9YVoDBa7WBG2rP7KuGUk3hD4XyvI-sWnQJl-kDrcXD_at4pNH8aB17YsFM_ftt4uhyphenhyphenMIIqTShpag0B3kMyUsFhoj_dXvGegb-sZoiOOUgs9ebZJ3jfM/s320/DSC01382.JPG" /></a>With my new robins egg blue toenails (a mistake, yes), proper color hair, Thai massaged muscles (or beating more like it) and eyesight I was ready for the overnight train to Nong Khai, only 22km from Vientiane, the capital of Laos, via the "International Train" over the Thai-Lao Friendship Bridge.</div><br /><div></div><div>Sounds great except the train was sold out!!! Oops, who knew? AND it was sold out the following day as well. :-( The nice ticket agent told me to hang around in case there was a cancellation (picture me sitting on my backpack in the middle of the not so nice train station). Again luck was on my side and I was off on the 13 hour journey with some enjoyable Brits and Dutch (those Dutch are everywhere!!!!!!) </div><div><br />I loved this train- I was in 2nd class so didn't have a private compartment, but the curtained off cubby was excellent. I'm sure the locals (who seem to be able to fall asleep at 7pm) were less than thrilled by the westerns playing cards and drinking in the aisles. They got us back by getting up at the crack of dawn!<br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio1XlWSYQNy4c7cW7jLDftvwsQFCwbq6O-2NvQEMRvOgjeC8XbrcTnyL4nh8MJra_G3f5ZAZaoD386MwTKBAHyd76h9YQxAIJISPaoBv2rzBtmbKg8GW2KwKB_Sk3WrsBb7dV0-hLnRqc/s1600/DSC01397.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537489887960401298" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio1XlWSYQNy4c7cW7jLDftvwsQFCwbq6O-2NvQEMRvOgjeC8XbrcTnyL4nh8MJra_G3f5ZAZaoD386MwTKBAHyd76h9YQxAIJISPaoBv2rzBtmbKg8GW2KwKB_Sk3WrsBb7dV0-hLnRqc/s320/DSC01397.JPG" /></a>I arrived in Vientiene before lunch at the most adorable Hotel Khamvongsa, where two Americans were also checking in. Despite how adorable the hotel, I couldn't stay the planned two days since there is really nothing in Vientiene. </div><br /><div>We were able to visit the major sites in a couple hours, including Pha That Luane, the most important national monument in Laos, a symbol of both Buddhism and Laos sovereignty (it appears on their national seal). They have been doing a lot of restoration work as you can see by the before and after shot below--- things get dirty in this tropical environment.</div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF6TuSiiR54yoWheuPbN2nfSSeFiVjO1v_EpHBtUOdVmwKnNbtKrxu3hNOTlz_nR4YRFFEuSl9Zt36HGEif5PusYfKYQ8xPe9h9EftA56zxc_M-7fZHvNg79StcZWdd3shh1bGJFJYvE4/s1600/DSC01403.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542754680697725394" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF6TuSiiR54yoWheuPbN2nfSSeFiVjO1v_EpHBtUOdVmwKnNbtKrxu3hNOTlz_nR4YRFFEuSl9Zt36HGEif5PusYfKYQ8xPe9h9EftA56zxc_M-7fZHvNg79StcZWdd3shh1bGJFJYvE4/s320/DSC01403.JPG" /></a>I was also quite amused to see the Patuxai, a pseudo, asiany Arc de Triomphe. It was super ugly, but the funny part is that it was built using American donated concrete intended for the building of a new airport. Airport or Arc de Triomphe?? They chose Arc- hahahaha!</div><br /><div>While eating my traditional Laos dinner of pizza I met a lovely family traveling for a year. The two teen/pre teen girls were chock full of info on what I should and shouldn't do with the rest of my time in Laos. I totally listened and booked all the same guesthouses based on their breakfast reviews (they didn't over hype the breakfast at Guesthouse Manichan in Luang Prabang either- yum! Former French colonies are the best- they have good bread.)<br /><br /></div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfjTtYG_dLQa2dUKtOzAb5m7QXdPEZuHV9lyvoL140Ow3XAZ6_4vqXql89yrklEv8o7S53JbP5tW5Apx_MmNpzQPWPgFMzhg5D22tnWyWfMhdaJ2ldr4HQIvkLFmWIKo7PdyoYA_yn5AU/s1600/DSC01447.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542754687573587938" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfjTtYG_dLQa2dUKtOzAb5m7QXdPEZuHV9lyvoL140Ow3XAZ6_4vqXql89yrklEv8o7S53JbP5tW5Apx_MmNpzQPWPgFMzhg5D22tnWyWfMhdaJ2ldr4HQIvkLFmWIKo7PdyoYA_yn5AU/s320/DSC01447.JPG" /></a>Per the title, nothing in Laos is very easy to get to, even though it looks so close on a map. The Lonely Planet also warns that the buses are made of cardboard and break down all the time. Well, they were right-- we left the station and broke down after our <strong>first </strong>turn around the corner--- too funny!!!! Another 1 hour breakdown in the middle of nowhere and finally we arrived in Vang Vieng nearly 6 hours later.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI3nDJwWPjqEavGEpyicCeWFnL58czB_Gg4gj4yCtcmZkGB0zbAcFqP4VjauTS4yY2xcGDQ32sFWZyYFc3beNJnB6HfhsoL8SZUCuWOVPtNsBWYbS4mlJLasqaavExhtSXn_bjhVja1H4/s1600/DSC01455.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542761360896182322" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI3nDJwWPjqEavGEpyicCeWFnL58czB_Gg4gj4yCtcmZkGB0zbAcFqP4VjauTS4yY2xcGDQ32sFWZyYFc3beNJnB6HfhsoL8SZUCuWOVPtNsBWYbS4mlJLasqaavExhtSXn_bjhVja1H4/s320/DSC01455.JPG" /></a> </div><div></div><br /><div>I hadn't intended on visiting Vang Vieng, but the Dutch guys on the train insisted! The town is bazaaro!</div><div></div><br /><div>Tourist basically go there to get really drunk and/or high and float down the Nam Song River on an innertube--- with an occasional stop at the riverside bars to jump off a giant swing or slide. Then they return to town and watch "Friends" and "Family Guy" playing on all the restaurant TVs.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggbg7SW6yzYNx7whKxcuOUgvt3topQzItg4ATYpRUK01TVaOqitDtDLKsPMgTGHl9m0FeM9npn8WZyalVo4BhyphenhyphenJD_RtPk4r9XzeEGcT1pX9UOnm1ENx6eayJP2-qtjg4kupIXrTo-Lil4/s1600/DSC01435.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537489904823503666" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggbg7SW6yzYNx7whKxcuOUgvt3topQzItg4ATYpRUK01TVaOqitDtDLKsPMgTGHl9m0FeM9npn8WZyalVo4BhyphenhyphenJD_RtPk4r9XzeEGcT1pX9UOnm1ENx6eayJP2-qtjg4kupIXrTo-Lil4/s320/DSC01435.JPG" /></a></div><br /><div>Okay, when in Rome, but first I joined Laura and Marika (who I met on the bus) for some rock climbing. I have never actually climbed anything but an indoor rock wall, so this was going to be interesting. I actually ended up loving it, and apparently I have a knack for climbing. It was really fun and I didn't kill our instructor while belaying him, which was also a plus. ;-)<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6OtiwS5neymY5znXl4QDBkKzhrVL6MnTBknZpdOkoDmLv0j7ldeU0zci9ZYIuNp30qWGalcqGBCp8htyBbmSM__YnKo7ZDZ4yhrZJExLrzIOxpfx06oByrJ90DLXpjGhe9cRpgaDYNiU/s1600/DSC01426.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537489895921007778" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6OtiwS5neymY5znXl4QDBkKzhrVL6MnTBknZpdOkoDmLv0j7ldeU0zci9ZYIuNp30qWGalcqGBCp8htyBbmSM__YnKo7ZDZ4yhrZJExLrzIOxpfx06oByrJ90DLXpjGhe9cRpgaDYNiU/s320/DSC01426.JPG" /></a><br /></div><div>The country is beautiful, walking through rice paddies and over shaky bamboo bridges to make our way to the climbing site while our instructor sang us some Lionel Richie and cracked himself up.<br /><br /></div><div>After the climb it was finally time for an afternoon float down the river, but little did we know the sun would be behind the mountains--- needless to say we froze! That shot of free whisky and bondfire at the sling shot bar did a little to warm us, but mostly I just shivered on the raft while a bunch of Aussies pulled my tube into their tube cluster.</div><div><br />Like everywhere, Asian hospitality is so nice! Adam, the owner of a rock climbing company who we met earlier in the day invited all of us to his place for dinner that night. We all sat on the floor Laos style and ate some yummy noodles and drank <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEXpch88X-vAxPaVN_FcTN11ZpfG80e4V79GzegJV0hcc6j9B1kcYhyphenhyphen4rYIN17PVjEf589q4p9qSpK_QXEvHtjLmUQIjSZmJt-7os8y0FlwPr-HXommJdjnyI-ztGSmTwdaaU7EANJWTI/s1600/DSC01454.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537489911631078530" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEXpch88X-vAxPaVN_FcTN11ZpfG80e4V79GzegJV0hcc6j9B1kcYhyphenhyphen4rYIN17PVjEf589q4p9qSpK_QXEvHtjLmUQIjSZmJt-7os8y0FlwPr-HXommJdjnyI-ztGSmTwdaaU7EANJWTI/s320/DSC01454.JPG" /></a>Lao Beer- the best of the SE Asian beers in my opinion (plus they appear to be the only ones that make a dark). Was a really good night! </div><br /><div>The next morning's drive to Luang Prabang was not so good. Despite the motion sickness patch, we all felt really sick on the 7 hour journey. After wandering around looking for Guesthouse Manichan, Peter gave me all the tips on what to do in this UNESCO world heritage town. First stop was a walk through the charming Hmong Night Market on the way to Utopia, a lovely riverside restaurant with a hospitable Canadian manager.</div><br /><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt4Za0fYBdmX4pKnZwvwvYmsYouDy-8r9rCI0EHMBMfZolP9ZH4OHXATrItlBlU_yOzGFoLgd4TjYjgF5hzkmhnhqBfmdx1Lz5Jz7DypeiA53OcrzDlSRYbFrzIGgzvHRfGKQQo4I2h2g/s1600/DSC01561.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542754705703324674" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt4Za0fYBdmX4pKnZwvwvYmsYouDy-8r9rCI0EHMBMfZolP9ZH4OHXATrItlBlU_yOzGFoLgd4TjYjgF5hzkmhnhqBfmdx1Lz5Jz7DypeiA53OcrzDlSRYbFrzIGgzvHRfGKQQo4I2h2g/s320/DSC01561.JPG" /></a>The next morning, what else but more wats (aka temples). Among them was Wat Xieng Thong from 1560, plus the Royal Palace Museum built in 1904 (they had the king's old American cars on display).</div><div></div><br /><div>It was then the temples atop Phu Si for sunset and dinner at Three Nagas, a gourmet restaurant with food and service (but not a tab) that reminded me of home. Ahhhh!</div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmdekmeGAG46O5Q089zCnrhTz5Wv0IipJKo6gliRKKyz32UWK-bOmN3zQN39ZeMlZ8a8iygilb4rkVxOx0dp3EzWnr-XXV5VCjgfSQbVFQzUekjT7C3JJrB_qLwnWDypd6Jfw4mueu2Es/s1600/DSC01573.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542754719777639794" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmdekmeGAG46O5Q089zCnrhTz5Wv0IipJKo6gliRKKyz32UWK-bOmN3zQN39ZeMlZ8a8iygilb4rkVxOx0dp3EzWnr-XXV5VCjgfSQbVFQzUekjT7C3JJrB_qLwnWDypd6Jfw4mueu2Es/s320/DSC01573.JPG" /></a>I had to get up early my last day for the 6am alms giving to the monks. Luckily a temple was just a block away, so I went Gidget style in my pajamas (they don't look like PJ's). I didn't exactly get it, basically lines of monks accepting donations all over (saw it a lot more in Myanmar). Since it only took 15 minutes to gawk, I walked through the morning market on my way back to bed.</div><div></div><br /><div>The rest of the day was spent at Tat Kuang Si, a multi tiered waterfall about 32 km from town in a pristine park. On the tuk tuk drive there we encountered elephant in the road which you don't see everyday. </div><div></div><br /><div>Off to Huay Xia on another paper mache bus for 14 hours. This time I could thank Ambien for getting me though since the bus was sub zero and pitch black thanks to the locals. I had a scarf wrapped around my head, used my microfiber towel as a blanket and had my legs in the arms of a spare fleece and was still cold- ugh! At least Ambien knocked me out so I don't even remember the 1 hr. flat tire stop complete with bond fire.<br /></div><div>There really is nothing to say about Huay Xia other than that it is a border town with Thailand and starting point for The Gibbon Experience!<br /><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6BGIJm31YFGbrvyO6yI3jxJj6-YPn7VmuoV7yRReOyeZwziwEoSxadzwQyjOzp8aAV63JjlUQHEVGZ13umLlUXUUABUGu6GhIuk_lr7jjhk4MFq1fiXEIhwBtIhD-z80TXDoQb_4uVZo/s1600/DSC01671.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542761306757725650" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6BGIJm31YFGbrvyO6yI3jxJj6-YPn7VmuoV7yRReOyeZwziwEoSxadzwQyjOzp8aAV63JjlUQHEVGZ13umLlUXUUABUGu6GhIuk_lr7jjhk4MFq1fiXEIhwBtIhD-z80TXDoQb_4uVZo/s320/DSC01671.JPG" /></a>Yes, two nights spent living in a tree house like a Gibbon. No, you don't really see any Gibbons while living like one- that is the ironic part.</div><br /><div></div><div>Inside the Bokeo Nature Reserve, Animo, a conservation-based group, has set up a series of ziplines crisscrossing the canopy, some of which lead to the tree houses perched about 200ft up.<br /></div><br /><div>The proceeds go to protect the forest and the animals from poachers-- five years ago poaching was threatening the extinction of the black crested gibbon.</div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy5a7BR8peIAdvdjiLGpAqUk4yUxDVnahSSYR5EsvMFK5vJdyNrTf1S9-RrtkVMAboQBcXbJz_IROQOvSHLkA_5L8Cgev3lFm2WNbA5VdGuo5YxgqGB48iB2Tso3FLUhyphenhyphenQrgd2B_eIPfw/s1600/DSC01692.JPG"></a></div><div>After the 2-3 hour drive to the forest, the days consisted of hiking and ziplineing- it was a blast! <div><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwKq09L-ClEG1pknWPO9YFIrdLSsPShGBUXYz9zXjCG33V0CHiM65DpO8dGmis070ZXA3xMPQZTCnABVhNg2Q' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy5a7BR8peIAdvdjiLGpAqUk4yUxDVnahSSYR5EsvMFK5vJdyNrTf1S9-RrtkVMAboQBcXbJz_IROQOvSHLkA_5L8Cgev3lFm2WNbA5VdGuo5YxgqGB48iB2Tso3FLUhyphenhyphenQrgd2B_eIPfw/s1600/DSC01692.JPG"></a></div></div><br /><div></div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy5a7BR8peIAdvdjiLGpAqUk4yUxDVnahSSYR5EsvMFK5vJdyNrTf1S9-RrtkVMAboQBcXbJz_IROQOvSHLkA_5L8Cgev3lFm2WNbA5VdGuo5YxgqGB48iB2Tso3FLUhyphenhyphenQrgd2B_eIPfw/s1600/DSC01692.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542754724018089490" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy5a7BR8peIAdvdjiLGpAqUk4yUxDVnahSSYR5EsvMFK5vJdyNrTf1S9-RrtkVMAboQBcXbJz_IROQOvSHLkA_5L8Cgev3lFm2WNbA5VdGuo5YxgqGB48iB2Tso3FLUhyphenhyphenQrgd2B_eIPfw/s320/DSC01692.JPG" /></a></div>Tree house life was also very relaxing and cushier than you would expect. The first night I shared #3 with three others for the best view and sunset, but then we moved into #7 since it was 2 story and was reported to have an amazing shower. </div><div></div><div>It did!!! You were showing hundreds of feet in the air looking out on undisturbed forest with water <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8yG4cM6Gw4wSuGe_tyl5H-RbKS2N-5V4LFJtbux9sVplyuKAThuv6kIPOV31nA5XtHgXxUi5VkYT5J8nQK9PuqoCzlDFY0ErwQE_qCzTnYwMJFzTWQIc4WwYBFTCBTkFfYa7koGWIvdQ/s1600/DSC01715.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542761324866508594" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8yG4cM6Gw4wSuGe_tyl5H-RbKS2N-5V4LFJtbux9sVplyuKAThuv6kIPOV31nA5XtHgXxUi5VkYT5J8nQK9PuqoCzlDFY0ErwQE_qCzTnYwMJFzTWQIc4WwYBFTCBTkFfYa7koGWIvdQ/s320/DSC01715.JPG" /></a>fresh from the mountains (it was cold, but you were also pretty hot and gross from trekking and zipping).<br /><br /></div><div>I didn't think it could get much more exciting, but the transportation back was a fiasco.</div><br /><div>After an hour on a dirt, bumpy road (sitting in the back of what is basically a pickup truck with a roof) we get to the road and happen to pick up a w<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxLz0z_NGH5caB9PzwfAr510LYjde-E_x_SFPEhLa5oo1RiHdQNZWyRXIw7i8R3N-CBTfe6nTTkxpLyAJs62TXMO7yu1g83m0a04LtLAaOJiCzS8fTiluWA7hw7vhpUxZ2fQ_RYwKFOf8/s1600/DSC01737.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537489876663092690" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxLz0z_NGH5caB9PzwfAr510LYjde-E_x_SFPEhLa5oo1RiHdQNZWyRXIw7i8R3N-CBTfe6nTTkxpLyAJs62TXMO7yu1g83m0a04LtLAaOJiCzS8fTiluWA7hw7vhpUxZ2fQ_RYwKFOf8/s320/DSC01737.JPG" /></a>oman in labor (in orange). We drop her at the hospital about 2 hours later, after one of our guides jumps out of the moving vehicle (his landing was not a 10.00).</div><br /><div></div><div>Fine. We cross the river by longtail boat to enter Thailand at Chiang Khong on our way to Chiang Rai. What happens, our maniac driver hits one of the stray dogs. Bring one life in this world and end another ;-(<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiaQkdbEM5n3VQDP3MEkkHzwUOCwi_HtHbMB3k-8XkP1LSdZIZsW-SQ_XPUadPT1n-fX_iahoQGpB0Pr8EsAdB7KN-PDrDvYajz4u24DPqKHZMRYXX3l4EFDrr7atTwIS8sm6yp1pkT68/s1600/DSC01770.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544905729362490994" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiaQkdbEM5n3VQDP3MEkkHzwUOCwi_HtHbMB3k-8XkP1LSdZIZsW-SQ_XPUadPT1n-fX_iahoQGpB0Pr8EsAdB7KN-PDrDvYajz4u24DPqKHZMRYXX3l4EFDrr7atTwIS8sm6yp1pkT68/s320/DSC01770.JPG" /></a></div><div></div><br /><div>The next two days in Chiang Rai were fairly uneventful since we didn't feel like any more temples, hilltribes or trekking, and the winery and tea plantation was too far.<br /></div><div></div><div> </div><div>We just kicked back, ate, drank, got a massage (one place we checked out had bored looking women in lingerie behind a glass wall- oops, wrong kind of massage parlour!), watched the best light show ever (so amazingly tacky!!!!), drank more and got a rickshaw ride (for which we paid extravagantly after all the previously mentioned drinks) before heading for our next destinations.</div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03761254329951728715noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7077756613019007351.post-81000059994041889082010-11-05T07:35:00.022-04:002010-11-05T09:05:29.699-04:00Lady, Need a......Kathmandu to Phnom Penh- not the obvious route. It was a multi-day journey through Delhi (where they still use carbon paper!) and Bangkok, but finally I arrived in Cambodia. <div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><br />Since it took a day and a half to get here, I was pretty spent and dirty so took in all the comforts of Hotel 252--- wow, what a step up from the tea houses of Nepal. I loved it here- modern architecture, a good shower, pool, restaurant, helpful French owners, and best of all, a flushing toilet!!! ;-) </div><div><br />Go figure, the hotel was on 252nd St. Cambodia is clever in that very few streets have names--- everything is just a number (ah, reminded me of home!) </div><div><br />After a good night sleep I felt ready for the sidewalks of Phnom Penh, they just weren't ready for me. NO one walks here! I had one tuk tuk driver ask "lady, why you walking? tuk tuk cheap!" Haha!</div><div><br />The capital city is pretty small, so it seemed silly to take a tuk tuk until some random guy on a bike tried to grab me on the main street right outside the palace. He was obviously crazy and maybe just wanted a hug (Dad- was not threatening or scary), but opted to cross the street and ask a teenager selling counterfeit DVD's for help. He nicely put me on the back of his moped and whisked me to the National Museum unscathed (and he didn't even want a tip, but thought maybe it was best I didn't walk- so nice!) </div><div><br />The National Museum had a lovely courtyard and all sorts of Khmer sculptures, including a room full of Buddhas, some of which were rescued from Angkor Wat when the civil war broke out. </div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT5RoBR0H-fk7BZkL3ZNC_UEzXmDRRUdJntJjHutzVY9xWkpCt5kEWs0dUAovvCMphGFHA3OaIj9sUnzb0RF-J1Td7sN9h0iWBJnqA7jcCiO89TufzHkTxGlIeOYAaZTz4bvsD0cLNXNc/s1600/DSC01006.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536037704169805938" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT5RoBR0H-fk7BZkL3ZNC_UEzXmDRRUdJntJjHutzVY9xWkpCt5kEWs0dUAovvCMphGFHA3OaIj9sUnzb0RF-J1Td7sN9h0iWBJnqA7jcCiO89TufzHkTxGlIeOYAaZTz4bvsD0cLNXNc/s320/DSC01006.JPG" /></a>I had lunch at Friends, a restaurant run by former street children (and probably the best service I have had in a long time). Unlike the other countries I have been, Cambodia has all sorts of shops and restaurants to benefit their most needy citizens- women, children and land mine victims (of which there are unfortunately a ton, an estimated 40,000!). I now have all sorts of random crafts since I felt bad not buying anything at these shops.</div><div><br />Due to limited opening hours, I had to wait until after lunch to go to the Royal Palace, the official residence of King Sihamoni, and the Silver Pagoda. Throne Hall was nice and the Silver Pagoda, named for the 5,000 silver floor tiles, had a good Emerald Buddha made from Baccarat crystal and another Buddha bejeweled with 9,584 diamonds. It was no Grand Palace in Bangkok, but still nice. </div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCKvfx7JvPo45zEGOVYIOfGQOaCG-13mxXyOQlE6cBI5oPfDW5ZQ3BJxQ5oOmH4Ex80nRlIEO5WR4xqPf-ys_RJHuyi4FEykxm_B_sRHNH2paJgjhyphenhyphenmeLliiPLkHS32TlOm0TIYso7kw4/s1600/DSC01014.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536037704812097410" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCKvfx7JvPo45zEGOVYIOfGQOaCG-13mxXyOQlE6cBI5oPfDW5ZQ3BJxQ5oOmH4Ex80nRlIEO5WR4xqPf-ys_RJHuyi4FEykxm_B_sRHNH2paJgjhyphenhyphenmeLliiPLkHS32TlOm0TIYso7kw4/s320/DSC01014.JPG" /></a>One think I did learn there is that the Queen and the upper class women used to dress in a different color for each day of the week--- that is taking day of the week panties to a whole new level! ;-) </div><div><br />So much for opulence, the next day was devoted to the crimes of the Khmer Rouge, a topic I've been interested in for years. I first took a tuk tuk out to the Killing Fields of Choeung Ek, where prisoners were sent for execution. At this site about <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQXOLAwvcisb1EWPQWHB3qxywRysfQyRO87g9xp2rE7eq88HvrSyLVMZ8IVEnvcYjkPON50X19hO5zDqXdUvhnY5gCI37yrlYgBq3m0NTP7YR1yBdyNcA-SAzqUOK7kEmNhaFMGCHMpzM/s1600/DSC01041.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536037716092861042" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQXOLAwvcisb1EWPQWHB3qxywRysfQyRO87g9xp2rE7eq88HvrSyLVMZ8IVEnvcYjkPON50X19hO5zDqXdUvhnY5gCI37yrlYgBq3m0NTP7YR1yBdyNcA-SAzqUOK7kEmNhaFMGCHMpzM/s320/DSC01041.JPG" /></a>17,000 men, women AND children were bludgeoned to death (to avoid wasting bullets) and buried in 129 mass graves. Unbelievably, the Killing Tree still stands marking where children were murdered by smashing their skulls against the tree. By law, the sites of mass graves must have a memorial to honor Buddhist beliefs. The memorial stupa at Choenung Ek displays over 8,000 skulls arranged by sex and age. </div><br /><div>Many of the victims of the Killing Fields had been transported from Tuol Sleng prison, known as Security 21 (S-21). This former high school became the largest detention and torture center in the country. Currently the museum houses room after room of pictures of the murdered, as well as vivid pictures of how they were tortured. Still amazes what people are capable of doing! </div><div><br />After the depressing morning I needed a nice long 2 hour/$10 Thai massage to make myself feel better (and the lemon tart from the patisserie down the street- the French have left one good thing behind!). I love the cheap spa treatments, which is why I get one almost every day. :-)</div><div><br />As I mentioned, the French owners of Hotel 252 were very helpful- they arranged my next hotel reservation and made sure I got on a bus to Battambang (in fact, they kinda picked Battambang as my next destination since there was no point going to the beach due to the typhoon in the Philippines). A tuk tuk driver was sent to buy me a bus ticket and then take me to the bus station- what service! </div><div><br />However, service plummeted at the bus station where they never announced my bus had arrived and it left without me. ANNOYED! But what can you do, but wait til the 3:30 bus and head to the nearby British pub for some comforting fish and chips? </div><div><br />Would you believe that upon my return at 3:04 the 3:30 bus had already come and gone? Yes, it's true! We all couldn't help but laugh since this was my second missed bus of the day! Oh, but those Cambodians are helpful- they put me on the back of the owner's motorcycle (with my backpack between his legs) and chased after the bus for 25 minutes. It was the best part of Phnom Penh--- still makes me laugh (the next 6 hours on the bus were less amusing). </div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBtxhCZ9UfVjjB3zOfKxhwfhbFBmAq6jGDZqCarPTh1-Am0v_YOR-SXn2sbW7xIjVLS-sxDYLe7oAd6vuh-mAn6uA-1hzqC8ZAAUz7Ez2slR26L1T-fx_uUqTZBX65rNjQnrtUxwaLR7k/s1600/DSC01089.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536037717477332626" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBtxhCZ9UfVjjB3zOfKxhwfhbFBmAq6jGDZqCarPTh1-Am0v_YOR-SXn2sbW7xIjVLS-sxDYLe7oAd6vuh-mAn6uA-1hzqC8ZAAUz7Ez2slR26L1T-fx_uUqTZBX65rNjQnrtUxwaLR7k/s320/DSC01089.JPG" /></a>In Battambang I was the only guest at a new eco-resort, which is a very strange feeling. I didn't spend much time in Battambang which is probably good since there isn't really anything to see there, just some old colonial architecture and what they think is the best rice in Cambodia (tasted like rice to me?). </div><div><br />The highlight was the 30 minute ride on the <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3mMJl5U3KT8mTdpzMshBFK73We9VwStCiwVik7_d7wzyT1m1X2AyJogjGkoSwZda_qsw4Aw9dzDTOUL7Y6sAavX5gRG_pOqOY_pVHTO9Hm5x5bSJJyzQVVef_2zjn14v-HQZSeJ452ME/s1600/DSC01107.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536037727701531010" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3mMJl5U3KT8mTdpzMshBFK73We9VwStCiwVik7_d7wzyT1m1X2AyJogjGkoSwZda_qsw4Aw9dzDTOUL7Y6sAavX5gRG_pOqOY_pVHTO9Hm5x5bSJJyzQVVef_2zjn14v-HQZSeJ452ME/s320/DSC01107.JPG" /></a>bamboo train, a 3m long wood frame covered lengthwise with bamboo and dis- assembled when a train is approaching on the single track from the opposite direction. The train took me through the rice paddies to a small village with friendly locals (and unfortunately a brick factory where kids seemed to work--- a fact that Human Rights Watch isn't pleased about per my driver).<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2ppRmMoSURxnjPVo2PcmOs2IgxCXKacT2O9-TInXB3MAsbRviaatfcAqGI4_XTbUHHM_3AJ4qo1Z7UVsv9sOg9AR2m6UuWvWTfV38MuPRahlPTJtb6TqDfeHFCIavzULbHBLOxQOL0Kg/s1600/DSC01117.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536039663807806754" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2ppRmMoSURxnjPVo2PcmOs2IgxCXKacT2O9-TInXB3MAsbRviaatfcAqGI4_XTbUHHM_3AJ4qo1Z7UVsv9sOg9AR2m6UuWvWTfV38MuPRahlPTJtb6TqDfeHFCIavzULbHBLOxQOL0Kg/s320/DSC01117.JPG" /></a>There were a bunch of boys swimming in the nearby swimming/ mud hole who were super cute! Plus I got to try grass jelly drink, which is really very odd- tasted like honey, with gelatinous cubes- I recommend skipping it next time you ride the bamboo train (hurry, they are going to shut it down next year when they plan to upgrade the country's rail line). </div><br /><div>I spent my evening at Phare Ponleu Selpak, an <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhExn6KXCPUDFPLQ5LeucTeH16B-rV7LAjjsC0tIknplwbnASGLRn1jQFveYVDwqn5Zl2xuHt0Nq-q69wDCS_m5MUL4rq-NP7sieIUjPtbkaNZAfao6MEfAgSHcivsBP13Kb-pc7TvsBME/s1600/DSC01128.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536039667283948642" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhExn6KXCPUDFPLQ5LeucTeH16B-rV7LAjjsC0tIknplwbnASGLRn1jQFveYVDwqn5Zl2xuHt0Nq-q69wDCS_m5MUL4rq-NP7sieIUjPtbkaNZAfao6MEfAgSHcivsBP13Kb-pc7TvsBME/s320/DSC01128.JPG" /></a>arts center for disadvantaged children. There I met Sampath who nicely gave me a tour and showed me his art (which I am now a proud owner, he was very shy about showing me). Once a week the center puts on a circus show which actually made me really nervous that someone was going to get hurt, but all ended well. </div><div><br />Battambang isn't the most touristy stop, in fact I didn't even know there were any others until the boat ride to Siem Reap the next morning. When I went to the dock (if you can call a steep flight of steps to the river a dock) I ended up having a long chat with a local teacher who was explaining to be about morality class--- hum, interesting subject. </div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTeOPNApMscDEy_KSYciHQxbHHB-pxw5IY1jL9vRDY0G2liQd1pp0FxfEw4WFT8pncdlUeKsp6ruXWCvHm3OGwY4CHHm0IxJcakb4Y6yLQClklU5IGzqm6i0R6OvBz0Ot3qc5EXjp3b1I/s1600/DSC01149.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536039674764905746" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTeOPNApMscDEy_KSYciHQxbHHB-pxw5IY1jL9vRDY0G2liQd1pp0FxfEw4WFT8pncdlUeKsp6ruXWCvHm3OGwY4CHHm0IxJcakb4Y6yLQClklU5IGzqm6i0R6OvBz0Ot3qc5EXjp3b1I/s320/DSC01149.JPG" /></a>"Cambodia's most spectacular boat journey" the next morning was needless to say a bit of a disappoint- ment. It took 7 hours on a tiny, questionably seaworthy boat, through narrow waterways where you occasionally had to dodge the shrubs scrapping the boat. Since this was the tail end of rainy season, it was interesting to see trees almost fully submerged and villages atop water. Our rest stop was an experience when the WC became submerged since too many people were weighing down the house. </div><div><br />The best part about the ride was meeting a charming British couple, Jonathan and Jenny, and an accident prone Dutch couple, Ton and Jessica--- my dinner partners for my entire time in Siem Reap, including our first night at the very post Abacus where we nearly toppled over (as we were doubled over laughing) in the tuk tuk on the super bumpy dirt road. </div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU6Ah40lXAvO7UWdIvksaDsoKHsTVx1-zJp4vUOoYBeizkFi8ATj0i44SAiKBndypozv2t_-bpxMG0B955UvxAtWq8WASq0Ohxwf9qJy8YwpmuifR9OEx-8qu71n1j8iGabBlKtVQ4FeI/s1600/DSC01169.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536039683737633858" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU6Ah40lXAvO7UWdIvksaDsoKHsTVx1-zJp4vUOoYBeizkFi8ATj0i44SAiKBndypozv2t_-bpxMG0B955UvxAtWq8WASq0Ohxwf9qJy8YwpmuifR9OEx-8qu71n1j8iGabBlKtVQ4FeI/s320/DSC01169.JPG" /></a>I joined Jenny and Jonathan (my social director) on the first day of temple touring to the far away temple of Banteay Srei, a 10th C. Hindu temple dedicated to Shiva, cut from stone of a pinkish hue with deep, ornate carvings. The name means 'Citadel of the Women', believed to have been built by a woman since the carvings are too fine for the hand of a man. Gotta like that!</div><div><br />Banteay Samre was not too far away, so we paid a visit and met an elder who wished us all good luck, read a prayer for each of us (where again we had good luck) and gave us a red string bracelet for, you guessed it, good luck (I worry I lost my bracelet during another massage the next day). </div><div></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvANQA3RJHEoRm6ShjoMLeviDn5oCeQl153Uyh50emATKvcYizUyCHpfpBwDrh_Qs7HFsNM6AiIBh1rY5lJNgOHTbgqRqbq61FjBlKLPMJ31tebPyEJeBI7AQlpIijUbX3gHEQIoK-nAc/s1600/DSC01215.JPG"></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCfeEHx8VSNcZj8Wz09zw2So3-JjJeSQYY2RqdtwG9SL0CUQrQSEvE4CeVaamBfzfQP_Z9IuuOyFZDPjv_qqdZ7-5E9iDzqjbAFn1XQNymRf9dNpeqmkzYVqYafrkzvIYkIEWKZpj6s_w/s1600/DSC01190.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536039686725301762" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCfeEHx8VSNcZj8Wz09zw2So3-JjJeSQYY2RqdtwG9SL0CUQrQSEvE4CeVaamBfzfQP_Z9IuuOyFZDPjv_qqdZ7-5E9iDzqjbAFn1XQNymRf9dNpeqmkzYVqYafrkzvIYkIEWKZpj6s_w/s320/DSC01190.JPG" /></a>We also met these very bright girls who listened to our tour guide and then addressed us by name, reciting our nations' capitals and presidents. Lynn wanted a guarantee that if I were to buy, I would only buy from her-- how could I resist her 50 cent dragonfly thingy? People accost you at every temple (Lady, lady, lady...) and don't take no for an answer very easily, which does get annoying, but these girls really won me over. </div><div><br />The other temples we visited the first day included the pyramid shaped Pre Rup and Ta Prohm, the temple made famous by "Tomb Raider." Ta Prohm was amongst my favorites since the jungle has totally taking over with trees growing all around the stone- amazing! </div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvANQA3RJHEoRm6ShjoMLeviDn5oCeQl153Uyh50emATKvcYizUyCHpfpBwDrh_Qs7HFsNM6AiIBh1rY5lJNgOHTbgqRqbq61FjBlKLPMJ31tebPyEJeBI7AQlpIijUbX3gHEQIoK-nAc/s1600/DSC01215.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536041783530836082" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvANQA3RJHEoRm6ShjoMLeviDn5oCeQl153Uyh50emATKvcYizUyCHpfpBwDrh_Qs7HFsNM6AiIBh1rY5lJNgOHTbgqRqbq61FjBlKLPMJ31tebPyEJeBI7AQlpIijUbX3gHEQIoK-nAc/s320/DSC01215.JPG" /></a>After leaving Jonathon and Jenny to a day without me, I headed to Angkor Thom where I ended up crashing the tour of a couple from Denver. The best part about the Angkor Thom area is Bayon, complete with 54 towers decorated with 216 enormous faces. Other temples were Baphuon, with a hard to find Buddha along the rear wall), the Terrace of the Leper King and the Terrace of Elephants, all covered with beautiful carvings. </div><div><br />I wanted to hit one more temple quickly, but ended up staying at Preah Khan much longer after meeting T, a teenager looking to make a few bucks by showing tourists the hard to find spots shown in the tour book. He was chock full of information and had me climbing all over the temple, including the roof to get a good photo- I am fairly certain this should not be allowed! </div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsT9bi5PdVe58C57woyuDN_PzEBgZMarB0_DLjxBfjlO6fo788m7rI8H9hV3fP4Hs7NcC6pzWt8tgOXKVQd48w15VV1aacjUfP0GMAMxKbsMYtd66un_rGbCHGfLTPfHFEtBjxgm2j6EA/s1600/DSC01270.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536041788217157714" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsT9bi5PdVe58C57woyuDN_PzEBgZMarB0_DLjxBfjlO6fo788m7rI8H9hV3fP4Hs7NcC6pzWt8tgOXKVQd48w15VV1aacjUfP0GMAMxKbsMYtd66un_rGbCHGfLTPfHFEtBjxgm2j6EA/s320/DSC01270.JPG" /></a>After two temple days it was time for a break, so I took Artisans d'Angkor up on their offer to tour their silk farm. This is again another organization helping train the disadvantaged. They are reported to produce some of the best silk in the country and it was very cool to see how it is done, from silk worm to scarf in the shop. Who knew?!<br /><br /></div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiK06cs7d_zDe5B82Mlh6PT9crkAWh_dqV0pnPUmIUqkYevPoZAA86hZvirpTFsczg48z92boe5LdAI4BQ9f4R_PZC0IawTujl7exwwLW7Lv4l9Whc3Sqd9zhetvTzGXQTOYzrt5YuSak/s1600/DSC01280.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536041792807830210" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiK06cs7d_zDe5B82Mlh6PT9crkAWh_dqV0pnPUmIUqkYevPoZAA86hZvirpTFsczg48z92boe5LdAI4BQ9f4R_PZC0IawTujl7exwwLW7Lv4l9Whc3Sqd9zhetvTzGXQTOYzrt5YuSak/s320/DSC01280.JPG" /></a>As I mentioned, the kids here are pretty savvy salespeople, selling books, bracelets, scarves and whatnot. We ran across one 14-year-old one night who proposed a game of tic-tac-toe, with rock-paper-scissors for the tie breaker. He didn't just want our money, he wanted to earn it by having us buy one of his books. Sadly he lost, and was very upset since it had been a bad selling day (they all appeared to be bad selling days). </div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh928_4uNR69woP_SUnqUndjF0b3Rfk7p_cePqaoPS6jR2YBsDch0nnNP2wbWqz0WXk3QQf0NRdGDjxnH3D3watV46TMA5W7UWAqOxMtfSpOgwJFZvyxuq8XBHUf_v8G1mGZM7c1J0nOfA/s1600/DSC01314.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536041800522947330" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh928_4uNR69woP_SUnqUndjF0b3Rfk7p_cePqaoPS6jR2YBsDch0nnNP2wbWqz0WXk3QQf0NRdGDjxnH3D3watV46TMA5W7UWAqOxMtfSpOgwJFZvyxuq8XBHUf_v8G1mGZM7c1J0nOfA/s320/DSC01314.JPG" /></a>Saving the best (reportedly) for last, I spent my last day at the famed Angkor Wat, likely built as a funerary temple of Suryavarman II in honor of Vishnu. Honestly, it was not my favorite, not sure why it is the most famous-- perhaps because it is largest? or because it was never abandoned to the elements?-- but it is certainly very impressive with its three tiers, intricate bas reliefs and beautiful grounds. </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0LOOpsWcAcUZn_wbFaldRQkfFsbf0eR_7P83-HR-biaPIyZnHZfk0mHXAVIEtG8tawP12UAAmQ3pNEU9wCl-Snhoyvr7kdc5dP4JkT8vfeQ5C7QZRCsDCYLjIoZ7oN8cW2hEugf1lvRQ/s1600/DSC01348.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536041807414801874" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0LOOpsWcAcUZn_wbFaldRQkfFsbf0eR_7P83-HR-biaPIyZnHZfk0mHXAVIEtG8tawP12UAAmQ3pNEU9wCl-Snhoyvr7kdc5dP4JkT8vfeQ5C7QZRCsDCYLjIoZ7oN8cW2hEugf1lvRQ/s320/DSC01348.JPG" /></a><br />Overall my time in Cambodia was fabulous! The people are amazing, the food is delicious, beer is 50 cents and the massages are SO cheap- what a great combo. Definitely one of the highlights of my trip so far! Although I won't miss all the "Lady....."</div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03761254329951728715noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7077756613019007351.post-35850076129713103842010-10-23T22:33:00.039-04:002010-10-26T13:14:45.855-04:00What Goes Down Must Come Up(Let's fast forward a bit to Nepal and we'll backtrac<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmR6iE2JN9-U7fI6NhVekNR3qzLnPcVRzpXxqNWSymlubmf-SqbsbyL7gM1LfakvUuLZ3V5W_erLPfanr_MkVgtI1dsVYguSOVYplK3zywASra6f-QGW6E1buQzviub7UwnhHV1Lw9UNk/s1600/DSC00858.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 180px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531440086560392706" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmR6iE2JN9-U7fI6NhVekNR3qzLnPcVRzpXxqNWSymlubmf-SqbsbyL7gM1LfakvUuLZ3V5W_erLPfanr_MkVgtI1dsVYguSOVYplK3zywASra6f-QGW6E1buQzviub7UwnhHV1Lw9UNk/s320/DSC00858.JPG" /></a>k to China later...)<br /><br />It's hard to put into words the physical and emotional roller coaster that is trekking to Mt. Everest Base Camp.<br /><br />The scenery is obviously stunning!<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyqLIVwdU8GuJY88xtlOzR4-jGtO7e-cDbKBZTUcAZ_gFzYVtRGpURmpnmFJ6sQ4tH07rf7uACcfUcj1Ex7iwvCRQM79qDrTTvopMI2Bfvh7ry-pnJsMd6XL5tjF16bV2XWT1YqrZq-e4/s1600/DSC00678.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 180px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531593286908739202" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyqLIVwdU8GuJY88xtlOzR4-jGtO7e-cDbKBZTUcAZ_gFzYVtRGpURmpnmFJ6sQ4tH07rf7uACcfUcj1Ex7iwvCRQM79qDrTTvopMI2Bfvh7ry-pnJsMd6XL5tjF16bV2XWT1YqrZq-e4/s320/DSC00678.JPG" /></a>For the first few days it could have been Canada or the Pacific Northwest, with a mighty river rolling through a pine forest--- however, you can tell it is Nepal by the Buddhist prayer flags and wheels. For those of you that don't know (which was me until this trip), Tibetan Buddhists believe that a blessing will spread throughout the world with each spin of the prayer <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ-SIqT74fc8SIEMcyzVNLR_d0iy4YwoFudHxk7qesz9v4xhKf_9uUqv1lX1HaDDFo98NYelmfw5nmgKNYuhNtMmBBJFrLs1jPOimpbnbxaHBl4EFJNiHBoCZIBc2UhJfBahTG5sVl-HE/s1600/DSC00680.JPG"></a>wheel and flutter of the flags in the wind- nice, huh?<br /><br />Lets not forget the incredible porters and yaks that go up and down the trail carrying supplies (and our bags- thanks yak!). These guys are incredible. They are TINY (way smaller than me) and carry a tremendous amount up these steep, <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfNlEfdfgtWnQJeHLO4jCLsSuJb03WWr4Ipwl6JySAC5mhhk_WXvXf508dNdUDQCVgrjtfIM1-KZzCaHghLxoYlJW0vCp_EdPHG1uDljoeWmB-AZlbi82zHqmZr-vbedOWObKq78Te9_A/s1600/DSC00690.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 180px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531591183129834546" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfNlEfdfgtWnQJeHLO4jCLsSuJb03WWr4Ipwl6JySAC5mhhk_WXvXf508dNdUDQCVgrjtfIM1-KZzCaHghLxoYlJW0vCp_EdPHG1uDljoeWmB-AZlbi82zHqmZr-vbedOWObKq78Te9_A/s320/DSC00690.JPG" /></a>rocky trails, with a lot of the weight supported on their foreheads--- we thought they are allowed to carry 70-80lbs.! It was hard to figure how long it would take us to get to our destinations since these guys could easily do it in half the time. Still impressed!<br /><br />The dirty kids we met along the way in the sporadic villages were also pretty adorable.<br /><br />I thought of Greg often since there were <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz-MT1CX0by3iMGncuFHZSYtzijyyxoENkMuKAn3BggpYQnAF3ngeSsNsxUuqS6qu0MYhuC37OBz3ihQtO3hyphenhyphenjhi3J5QPka_WZxDkwwxQkDW2R1oaCrP-d0CTqnx0NNIiqIDdfSKacN5Q/s1600/DSC00703.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 180px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531593296015841778" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz-MT1CX0by3iMGncuFHZSYtzijyyxoENkMuKAn3BggpYQnAF3ngeSsNsxUuqS6qu0MYhuC37OBz3ihQtO3hyphenhyphenjhi3J5QPka_WZxDkwwxQkDW2R1oaCrP-d0CTqnx0NNIiqIDdfSKacN5Q/s320/DSC00703.JPG" /></a>numerous suspension bridges we had to cross over the rushing river (that is too dangerous to raft to give <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEenoPaTRD6x3Z8n3qjiPLsYe6lITb1fZfMbkRWUMo4C1ASoWl2EWoIjGHdW-7SbT47JsqJkN-u1m5kBCMI4Qcolpqd3_EuPMAJ4KwYsI4_SGK6fMWsig-2LUFBGNXPW-g3FHVmEr5TWE/s1600/DSC00829.JPG"></a>you some indication of how mighty); these and the narrow paths and super steep steps alongside certain death cliffs made this one not for those fearful of heights. Oh, and make sure to stay mountain side or you might get bumped off the mountain by a yak ;-)<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfNlEfdfgtWnQJeHLO4jCLsSuJb03WWr4Ipwl6JySAC5mhhk_WXvXf508dNdUDQCVgrjtfIM1-KZzCaHghLxoYlJW0vCp_EdPHG1uDljoeWmB-AZlbi82zHqmZr-vbedOWObKq78Te9_A/s1600/DSC00690.JPG"></a><br />As we increased in elevation the trees started to disappear and the snow capped mountains surfaced--- pretty spectacular (and so quiet)! You had to remember to look up from the path and take in all the beauty.<br /><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><br /><div><div><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 180px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531593304377381506" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUQpoeYpjv4YJ-cwxyC80-RSeXuD4eIAvJ7zBYTHu1ynZO3kvCF0NQhmzxNC8jCjnV0fGhhgDE9N9IUsJ6HwVKPvGNgi2erAglQvAvvxoowKxayFa0-tl7CRjQViXqhJjkQZ97JP8VNao/s320/DSC00708.JPG" />It was pretty spectacular on the days we could see. We actually had pretty good weather, except when we hiked a particularly tough stretch for the sole purpose of the view. The journey to the Everest View Hotel was not rewarded with any view at all--- I'm sure it was lovely and the lemon tea was tasty!<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ07ytlG4pSdDYS2W1JYI6GhiAesSzQUjAegBdEdk7RgL7mWy6vZ73lrgyF_dOQdCIZ6PYRwOaSASudl6WDL6Zh113i7I1QKK7SORtPCodO7NvLB9JMVVCuenwCeMISoFdRDT59XBDynY/s1600/66958_1664115920735_1172341207_1868102_7046922_n.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531440079828082418" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ07ytlG4pSdDYS2W1JYI6GhiAesSzQUjAegBdEdk7RgL7mWy6vZ73lrgyF_dOQdCIZ6PYRwOaSASudl6WDL6Zh113i7I1QKK7SORtPCodO7NvLB9JMVVCuenwCeMISoFdRDT59XBDynY/s320/66958_1664115920735_1172341207_1868102_7046922_n.jpg" /></a>The best part-- reaching base camp with a group of amazing people! </div><br /><div></div><div>To name just a few... there was Linda, a 62-year-old midwife from Minnesota that inspired us all. The girls from New Zealand, Cathy and Claire, who liked to shop and totally made me laugh. David and Kristen from <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">Saratoga</span> Springs, NY who joined me in avoiding "dead people" while suggesting new career options ;-) Martin, our UN representative who just wouldn't take no for an answer while humming his latest music composition. Paula and Tracy, the Canadians who trekked up that long hill to <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">Namche</span> Bazaar with me and through the dense fog for that non existent view from <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4RhG2XPEagA3r8GgRGySnHDrh4bRSXXvv14vPhMYsIXzEKadNyO3b_CgRAk88-qOjSga1zC5nQo2uVGFqG4HDK9MiCEf9gxpIUqt-jQp52kt242UzSbauiVxapJNoBJPVnR4yl8yH3Kc/s1600/DSC00877.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 180px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531440090464584162" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4RhG2XPEagA3r8GgRGySnHDrh4bRSXXvv14vPhMYsIXzEKadNyO3b_CgRAk88-qOjSga1zC5nQo2uVGFqG4HDK9MiCEf9gxpIUqt-jQp52kt242UzSbauiVxapJNoBJPVnR4yl8yH3Kc/s320/DSC00877.JPG" /></a>the Everest View Hotel. Marcel who made sure no one was out of earshot--- <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">Namasteeeeee</span>! And my sweet Swiss friend and trekking (+ bakery) buddy for most of the days-- he was always nearby with an encouraging smile, checking that I was okay and offering his beloved <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">masala</span> <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">chai</span>. :-)</div><br /><div></div><div></div><div>I thank them all for making this an experience of a lifetime.<br /><br /><strong>Up, Down, More Up :-(<br /></strong><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOTOyoSvm9aLBw7Ta0dgP_mG3O2se8zpLu9eTGRqdEaTXUMbKzyLMwOJpLyZLMNmKmDjirG-MkU8Lbi5BmhwcR753BOfUNX5OhFcftLV9i5JAFs9XH5Rx6zpaY-px0tAc7U7QOp-nDCdc/s1600/DSC00786.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 180px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531448141179262130" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOTOyoSvm9aLBw7Ta0dgP_mG3O2se8zpLu9eTGRqdEaTXUMbKzyLMwOJpLyZLMNmKmDjirG-MkU8Lbi5BmhwcR753BOfUNX5OhFcftLV9i5JAFs9XH5Rx6zpaY-px0tAc7U7QOp-nDCdc/s320/DSC00786.JPG" /></a>No one could really tell us how far we walked, but guesstimates were maybe 70-75km each way? We would usually walk anywhere from 8-16km a day (6-7 hours), but remember we need to get higher so a LOT of that was uphill. But no, not all uphill! There were plenty of downhills too, which just meant that all the uphill we just <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7JDwoVvG40ZQAchNVnCUrNvlDLIIFT5JQ1ONeoDZ360owiEemC0OBimkUK3ETFFr4D9t0V-Rk7lHRxdEkRg9ErU1s7DjpCLHdxiu4VteYAHYV3R_DUGQ7SqZEjJIuSncH88YO80jSX48/s1600/DSC00865.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 180px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531593312400361682" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7JDwoVvG40ZQAchNVnCUrNvlDLIIFT5JQ1ONeoDZ360owiEemC0OBimkUK3ETFFr4D9t0V-Rk7lHRxdEkRg9ErU1s7DjpCLHdxiu4VteYAHYV3R_DUGQ7SqZEjJIuSncH88YO80jSX48/s320/DSC00865.JPG" /></a>finished was really for nothing- talk about discouraging! It also always seemed that the hours of uphill came at the end of the day for some odd reason- giving us something to look forward to all day ;-) </div><br /><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>It was exhausting (oh, my tired, achy legs), but at the end of the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error">dayS</span> we finally made it to the promised land- Base Camp and 4 rocks ;-)) <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error">Yay</span>!!!!!!!!!<br /><br /><strong>How Bad?<br /></strong><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDDsZR4oZIA3sOIf5_ony233MREObTezj6TFU335elTqH9Em0Jl3RMUT0WBwamvTBVnwJDoRiIoJpTZrH0FJsfeKfuMTYdOl27T_3e-JtjRzd2GrYPcfq04PeErpf7xkPnzwUI6-vuTwI/s1600/DSC00890.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 180px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531448157846759218" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDDsZR4oZIA3sOIf5_ony233MREObTezj6TFU335elTqH9Em0Jl3RMUT0WBwamvTBVnwJDoRiIoJpTZrH0FJsfeKfuMTYdOl27T_3e-JtjRzd2GrYPcfq04PeErpf7xkPnzwUI6-vuTwI/s320/DSC00890.JPG" /></a>Yes, the nature squat was way preferable to the non flushing toilets at the tea houses along the trail. Tea house sounds charming, right? Yeah, not so much. They are basically flimsily constructed shelters made of plywood with no heating and plumbing. No complaints, they are better than a tent, but it was mighty chilly and loud in these joints.<br /><br />Some were actually better than others and even had the option to pay for a hot shower which was really welcome after days of trekking (this was NO beauty contest or fashion show!).<br /></div><div><div><div><div><div><br />After this experience I learned that my #1 priority isn't a shower, but a flushing toilet.<br /><br />You really don't get used to that smell, hence why we usually opted for the pee rock along the way (not always so discrete).<br /><br /><strong>We Have Two Options</strong><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg53qilw0NLyMIIdgXBjavyYL89j-1MJwxVWbGrgEvCGrlp5OmplpaNDVmwgyCJK8sQ5Kc7vIVqmC0gefjuD6qoqBbMx5ATDyKzEhO3eFn58vntTNRkT4qJB9ndp4S2qklOEZCsVvk6n54/s1600/DSC00766.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 180px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531591193218469234" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg53qilw0NLyMIIdgXBjavyYL89j-1MJwxVWbGrgEvCGrlp5OmplpaNDVmwgyCJK8sQ5Kc7vIVqmC0gefjuD6qoqBbMx5ATDyKzEhO3eFn58vntTNRkT4qJB9ndp4S2qklOEZCsVvk6n54/s320/DSC00766.JPG" /></a>Raj and <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error">Hari</span>, our Nepalese guides, were great about keeping us safe and generally on track. They took good care of us, maybe with the exception of the menu. "Excuse me, I will now take the breakfast order. We have two options- porridge with apple and egg with toast." Same, same! It became a joke since the menu variety was so limited and oddly enough heavy on the Chinese, which would have been okay had I not just come from China where I actually ate good Chinese food.<br /><br /><strong>Is That A Headache?<br /></strong><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikckQww22ADiBIc3Fmx1jNk7EXwN2h8P2YFN100qGx-t6IpG5pxMdKY_fZJsZPdpoOp6O584PiHdNTd5KBWUOHyATPcPUtkvy7PmeKPxVwwOXFkMVgsdVPdyDzglGlOnHopG4nIzYhVHY/s1600/71597_439284210833_618135833_5689232_6359642_n.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5532163779387251042" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikckQww22ADiBIc3Fmx1jNk7EXwN2h8P2YFN100qGx-t6IpG5pxMdKY_fZJsZPdpoOp6O584PiHdNTd5KBWUOHyATPcPUtkvy7PmeKPxVwwOXFkMVgsdVPdyDzglGlOnHopG4nIzYhVHY/s320/71597_439284210833_618135833_5689232_6359642_n.jpg" /></a>I was in constant fear of altitude sickness as the days went by, not something to be toyed with. There was the constant reminder of how serious things could get with the frequent sound of rescue helicopters going up and down the mountain--- a sound I really didn't like on the way up.<br /><br />Unfortunately altitude sickness did strike our group. First my trekking buddies, Kristen and David, had to go back down the mountain in the middle of the night in what sounded like a harrowing trip to the medical clinic, getting lost when they lost the yak trail.<br /><br />Then, in the scariest moment of the trip, Catherine (NZ) collapsed on the trail and had to be airlifted out. It was terribly upsetting watching as she struggled with oxygen running out or not working. Thankfully Jake (Canada), Brooke (Delaware) and a couple of foreign doctors that happened to be nearby were able to get her stabilized for the flight back to Kathmandu.<br /><br />It seriously made me reconsider going any higher since your mind starts to play games with you, convincing you one of the symptoms is starting. Luckily I was fine! I stayed hydrated, drinking 6 liters of water a day, but that garlic soup wasn't my thing.<br /><br />The good thing is that everyone was okay once they got to lower elevation.<br /><br /><strong>Crazy Landing<br /></strong><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNDJr8pL-cPIiPEsW9ISg4Em5VlxblRE6GNsvrlWdcPXBNJ6qyP9cNqvmG31lwmHeNt8QQitVjs_Un-kSOjLKw63wFiJl7NsN4Kg0niC78GSkLMEn6Gf_RnRBGi7z6hZPt-qv-W83Wulc/s1600/DSC00671.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 180px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5532331400267101426" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNDJr8pL-cPIiPEsW9ISg4Em5VlxblRE6GNsvrlWdcPXBNJ6qyP9cNqvmG31lwmHeNt8QQitVjs_Un-kSOjLKw63wFiJl7NsN4Kg0niC78GSkLMEn6Gf_RnRBGi7z6hZPt-qv-W83Wulc/s320/DSC00671.JPG" /></a>All I have to say is you should all go to YouTube and watch the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error">Lukla</span> landing video. Insane! I have never experienced a steep, uphill runway on the side of a mountain. It took serious skill to land those tiny planes. The day we flew out one pilot did crash a plane into the wall upon landing, but all were fine.<br /><br />However, there have been some accidents at this airport, so they don't seem to chance it which is why fog closed the airport for days at the end of our trek. Luckily we got the last plane out a day after we arrived in <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-error">Lukla</span>, but some Brits we met early along had been stuck for 4 days and spent the $1600 to helicopter out, along with most people going stir crazy in a town with not a whole lot going on (the fake Starbucks was packed!)</div><div></div><div><strong><br />Get Me Outta Here!<br /></strong><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqbQcqpJIgzQxigMZEFZ0FCO9nF6tgeY99rYxy-opFQfE14u7hlGF3Gl-Wg5dK5FSz0uGs5U1Qu1UD2VTEbuLns7w8H2Z_o27dDTGiI87b2SfWsbuFFmmsRq8dL3ZZ9mPk6KazWFd59lg/s1600/DSC00894.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 180px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5532331127477744338" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqbQcqpJIgzQxigMZEFZ0FCO9nF6tgeY99rYxy-opFQfE14u7hlGF3Gl-Wg5dK5FSz0uGs5U1Qu1UD2VTEbuLns7w8H2Z_o27dDTGiI87b2SfWsbuFFmmsRq8dL3ZZ9mPk6KazWFd59lg/s320/DSC00894.JPG" /></a>Arriving in Kathmandu at the start of the trip was definitely a love/hate experience. The city is total chaos with no traffic lights and CONSTANT honking from the cars and motorcycles that are trying to cram their way through the tiny, windy streets (that should really be 1-way, but aren't). It is also amazing filthy- the state of their streets and rivers is really horrendous and sad.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG4tSfC1EkXH-BNXlyCx38yh2QYdyYXdGGCwRZqzO-4_AJl-0A4RxkQgdmfEddi12S2xyjwDWHZGyh6lARFOIvC4WWOOu-SgqDE20A7gfjC9SE20qSnYbFxICPiEznn9WEPvIFzjngKiU/s1600/DSC00666.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 180px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5532331407663497650" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG4tSfC1EkXH-BNXlyCx38yh2QYdyYXdGGCwRZqzO-4_AJl-0A4RxkQgdmfEddi12S2xyjwDWHZGyh6lARFOIvC4WWOOu-SgqDE20A7gfjC9SE20qSnYbFxICPiEznn9WEPvIFzjngKiU/s320/DSC00666.JPG" /></a>It is also really lively with colorfully dressed locals giving it a really distinct energy. In fact, on our first night we ran into a festival parade with people all over the streets celebrating. We also got stuck in a roadblock of riot police and army personnel when the president passed--- they do have those Maoist issues still.<br /></div><div><br />Eventually, the honking won out and I couldn't wait to get to the peace of the mountains.<br /><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIoWPrPD4L4Ou2SJ3jF9uZw8Pt7IQfZZud2-jC4FYs_t9bj4A85W8WDGDPVgmq7Gy03_JURtPjR85CLUD7iruYhQ-0wNBpEImriwtMeTVxr5QRXYIgUOdEhj9NPTMHDRa2ngHFN4gxWzw/s1600/DSC00944.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 180px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5532331117146182706" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIoWPrPD4L4Ou2SJ3jF9uZw8Pt7IQfZZud2-jC4FYs_t9bj4A85W8WDGDPVgmq7Gy03_JURtPjR85CLUD7iruYhQ-0wNBpEImriwtMeTVxr5QRXYIgUOdEhj9NPTMHDRa2ngHFN4gxWzw/s320/DSC00944.JPG" /></a>Then after weeks of peace (and bad food and plumbing), chaos was just what I was craving.<br /><br /></div><div>Since the original trip itinerary changed, we arrived at Base Camp two days early, meaning we were really just killing time to get back to Kathmandu. At this point I was totally exhausted and just had enough, so joined my two German-speaking friends and left our guides for a 2-day trek down the mountain alone (don't worry, it was near impossible to get lost).<br /><br />We had a lovely time stopping first in <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" class="blsp-spelling-error">Phakding</span> (and their Reggae bar that inexplicably played no reggae- sorry Donovan) and then <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" class="blsp-spelling-error">Lukla</span> waiting for a flight out.<br />Unfortunately, right after we dropped our bags at the lodge I ended up twisting my ankle pretty badly (and ignoring the loud snapping sound it made). Yes, we walk over 100km and I hurt myself basically outside the airport- how stupid!<br /><br /></div><div></div><div>I was happy to be back hobbling around Kathmandu, eating yummy food, celebrating with a cocktail, massage and a tour around the city, including the Monkey Temple which has hundreds of monkeys scampering about.<br /></div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQe1JesJbRedvwPpU0y-Utlb8h_NVQ672bpNr0KQp_q85FNOfKL8MiDKvMO1iE1WVx2U3uo2spn6x7qcwNwyZ6QsSdSVczX3Q1TkwP07wuq5xePav9PeUC1RBf5SCQrds0sxZ84CWrwnk/s1600/DSC00935.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 180px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5532331123833263986" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQe1JesJbRedvwPpU0y-Utlb8h_NVQ672bpNr0KQp_q85FNOfKL8MiDKvMO1iE1WVx2U3uo2spn6x7qcwNwyZ6QsSdSVczX3Q1TkwP07wuq5xePav9PeUC1RBf5SCQrds0sxZ84CWrwnk/s320/DSC00935.JPG" /></a><br />We even got back in time for the biggest Hindu celebration of the year, the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_12" class="blsp-spelling-error">Dashain</span> Festival, when thousands of animals are sacrificed. I skipped the public sacrifice in the main square after seeing the animals all over town for sale--- those poor goats didn't know what was coming.<br /></div><strong></strong><div><strong><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYKZI3wMQp3Ukyycz33WPo9Kwo6QVkBuaQNUBbYFwH0IDBuVlQqArXkBag9cNB71cXq52MEwqHZT6l0BaDYgV_c3BOn5yXY0hYuhjPYcwg2_IwKq92HeBsjLckzwZ9G_CYIEN5a2I94Uk/s1600/DSC00946.JPG"></a></strong></div><div><strong></strong></div><div><strong><br /><div><strong><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYKZI3wMQp3Ukyycz33WPo9Kwo6QVkBuaQNUBbYFwH0IDBuVlQqArXkBag9cNB71cXq52MEwqHZT6l0BaDYgV_c3BOn5yXY0hYuhjPYcwg2_IwKq92HeBsjLckzwZ9G_CYIEN5a2I94Uk/s1600/DSC00946.JPG"></a></strong></div>Doing It For The Orphans<br /></strong><div><strong><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYKZI3wMQp3Ukyycz33WPo9Kwo6QVkBuaQNUBbYFwH0IDBuVlQqArXkBag9cNB71cXq52MEwqHZT6l0BaDYgV_c3BOn5yXY0hYuhjPYcwg2_IwKq92HeBsjLckzwZ9G_CYIEN5a2I94Uk/s1600/DSC00946.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 180px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5532331120200591970" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYKZI3wMQp3Ukyycz33WPo9Kwo6QVkBuaQNUBbYFwH0IDBuVlQqArXkBag9cNB71cXq52MEwqHZT6l0BaDYgV_c3BOn5yXY0hYuhjPYcwg2_IwKq92HeBsjLckzwZ9G_CYIEN5a2I94Uk/s320/DSC00946.JPG" /></a></strong></div>At the end of the day this trek was to benefit the orphans, so it was nice to visit their homes. </div><div><br />We first went to Brighter Futures where most of the kids were away for the holiday (like our Christmas). We toured the facility and a neighboring village- it was nice to get out into the countryside to see a different type of Nepal.<br /><br />Then we eventually found Shining Stars where 30 incredibly personable kids reside. They appeared to be the happiest orphans and put on a bit of a singing and dancing performance, after greeting us with flowers and <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_13" class="blsp-spelling-error">tika</span> (red dot on my forehead).</div><div></div><div><br />They also had one of the crazy big, bamboo swings that I SO wanted to try, but after my ankle injury in <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_14" class="blsp-spelling-error">Lukla</span> I thought better of it.</div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-5cRliSQxMSHoCCw9QhXXkbSKw5p4jO_A21nT_k973PbmD4nFa810CpPJCF7zVa5XQEFadGp7_nx_vpWeZzJwAbLDXGMZkBzIeuzsItph_NI0URh7JQaKED6Bho4IEF1qRa10UY31Jbo/s1600/DSC00949.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 180px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5532331105596523282" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-5cRliSQxMSHoCCw9QhXXkbSKw5p4jO_A21nT_k973PbmD4nFa810CpPJCF7zVa5XQEFadGp7_nx_vpWeZzJwAbLDXGMZkBzIeuzsItph_NI0URh7JQaKED6Bho4IEF1qRa10UY31Jbo/s320/DSC00949.JPG" /></a>After seeing street kids in Kathmandu huffing, I was really glad that I was able to do something to help give these 44 kids a better life and a real chance at a future.<br /><br />Thanks again to everyone that donated- you are really making a difference!</div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03761254329951728715noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7077756613019007351.post-88583465911889950702010-10-17T08:26:00.023-04:002010-10-19T11:28:55.990-04:00I'll Get There Eventually<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikaWhDP-ccbI2LtiunhJU14DAs2Llq-zNkbnByAHFd09YPHCCjcAtSrmxRWtFP7xH9xdaoWL3xRVBG6Xicy1rg2Q19JdVdMjWcMbtvz18XXxWKgSHIQRhMpSMBSNlCS9hXdc3dD8PGvwg/s1600/DSC04870.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529019643619869474" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikaWhDP-ccbI2LtiunhJU14DAs2Llq-zNkbnByAHFd09YPHCCjcAtSrmxRWtFP7xH9xdaoWL3xRVBG6Xicy1rg2Q19JdVdMjWcMbtvz18XXxWKgSHIQRhMpSMBSNlCS9hXdc3dD8PGvwg/s320/DSC04870.JPG" /></a> What's another 12-hour overnight bus ride with Ambien? Off to Istanbul for my last 5 nights in Europe.<br /><br />I arrived early and shockingly successfully navigated the tram and maze of streets in Sultanahmet to find my hostel, so I had time to kill before check-in.<br /><br />Since I haven't met a palace I didn't like, I decided stop #1 should be the Topkapi Palace. I'd get to the Blue Mosque later.<br /><br />The money pit of a palace (the entry fee was expensive and then you had to pay more to get in the Harem and for the audio guide, and then for the Harem audio guide!) was actually pretty spectacular. Construction on the Palace started in 1453 by Mehmet the Conqueror and subsequent sultans lived here into the 19th century.<br /><br />The Palace is organized into 4 courtyards, each further restricting access until the final interior courtyard where only the sultan's family was permitted (and now me and all the Asian tourists).<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEIqzWo1AsSspSIZ_KGhG9GDsfI-Fw6WlOPsEjGYLC9Bx2Rons-dCQJ72tYJTIXb4cAUttQmH-3SN3cIIE0hce5DRIQGCT_tVPEfbdzmhXHa0EXj8Ak5N7NMWVFrMP978bpgflfGxKGtA/s1600/DSC04807.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529013098835443810" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEIqzWo1AsSspSIZ_KGhG9GDsfI-Fw6WlOPsEjGYLC9Bx2Rons-dCQJ72tYJTIXb4cAUttQmH-3SN3cIIE0hce5DRIQGCT_tVPEfbdzmhXHa0EXj8Ak5N7NMWVFrMP978bpgflfGxKGtA/s320/DSC04807.JPG" /></a>My favorite parts were the Treasury (like Moscow, I enjoy seeing all the bling) and the Harem. This may not be news to anyone else, but I was interested to learn that the ladies of the Harem had to be foreigners since Islam forbade enslaving Muslims. The sultan was allowed four wives and as many concubines as he could support.<br /><br />Throughout all the buildings the tile work was stunning- if I were a decorator I would not have mixed so many patterns, but it totally worked!!<br /><br />That evening I had the pleasure of meeting Gokturk (my new sailing friend for those of you that don't recall Turkey Pt. 1) for a lovely seafood meal overlooking the Bosphorus in a local neighborhood. He drove me around and showed me all the hot spots where locals hang, plus a mall that felt just like home.<br /><br />I had big plans for the next day in Beyoglu (formerly known as the European quarter)--- get my hair done and by tickets to see U2 (their first concert in Turkey, and maybe their last?). Since I couldn't spend all day on nonsense I first visited the newish Istanbul Modern which I loved. I seriously think it is my favorite contemporary art museum of the trip.<br /><br />Would you believe that Turkey's Ticketmaster equivalent still has you wait in line for hours for tickets? Sad, but true! Since the World Basketball Championships were going on at the same time the line was over 3 hours wait. I opted to get my hair and eyebrows done (all for the bargain price of $65!!!!!!!!!!) and join when the wait was only half that long- ugh!<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIpkbsQrfknu5_p9FK6KpKZVfEzrIVbpj_iW0ZH_xnRvEDQcPW0h9cei1wIt7S4e_NmFniF0tYQKG6FWiCHqtvnpte1M6ryG9RQ94BU6nxbOhNgj9ze5pcncZ_oEyChmo3Fuwm8dSxzJw/s1600/DSC04820.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529014716361085186" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIpkbsQrfknu5_p9FK6KpKZVfEzrIVbpj_iW0ZH_xnRvEDQcPW0h9cei1wIt7S4e_NmFniF0tYQKG6FWiCHqtvnpte1M6ryG9RQ94BU6nxbOhNgj9ze5pcncZ_oEyChmo3Fuwm8dSxzJw/s320/DSC04820.JPG" /></a>After that exhausting day I wasn't up for a big night out so I just grabbed two kebabs from the meticulous street vendor (I didn't realize I was being so piggy ordering 2 until after I saw them made) and watched some fireworks from the roof deck while talking to Laura. The rest of Istanbul was breaking their Ramadan fast on the lawn outside the Blue Mosque.<br /><br />Two days down and still no Blue Mosque- today was the day since I had to walk by it 18 times a day- damn, it is closed for some special visit from some special person. Oh well, there are still days ahead of me!<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgovAi6oPkq7YjpcFLkPzHJCOclvTYkevwKYNyAiQXaG-EyrT9zyAtNiGvLAC59l4PZeGV412sKNSY2HXNhpZDjaWe7IW2CxkjBvVprYsGgFxb7C3g_ZDNA_RmquwKuCaWbJWiFwYUCkmo/s1600/DSC04838.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529014722440379522" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgovAi6oPkq7YjpcFLkPzHJCOclvTYkevwKYNyAiQXaG-EyrT9zyAtNiGvLAC59l4PZeGV412sKNSY2HXNhpZDjaWe7IW2CxkjBvVprYsGgFxb7C3g_ZDNA_RmquwKuCaWbJWiFwYUCkmo/s320/DSC04838.JPG" /></a>Along with everyone else due to the rain, I opted for the Haghia Sophia, the one thing in Istanbul I remember learning about in grammar school (but don't really remember why- think maybe religion class?). Originally built by Emperor Justinian as a church in 537, it was converted to a mosque in 1453 after the Ottoman conquest. Now that it is a museum it is an odd mix of Christianity and Islam, with mosaics of Jesus and 19th century medallions inscribed with Arabic letters. The most impressive part though is the sheer size of the dome built with special bricks that make it appear as if it hovers unsupported.<br /><br />The most amusing part? They have a wall of foreign dignitaries that have visited the museum. Apparently there have been new, better visitors (like Obama and the Pope) so they put stickers over people that had been on the plaque. I really want to know who was downgraded! Can you imagine the meeting where they discussed who was expendable? ;-)<br /><br />I had planned to see a few other sites, but the friendliness of the Turkish men was getting really old. Sure, it was charming for the first couple of days in the small towns, but in Istanbul it was close to downright harassment. I had enough!!!!<br /><br />I only surfaced again from the hostel to see the Whirling Dervishes. It is pretty mesmerizing to watch the men spin so gracefully for 45 minutes and envisioning me tripping over my own feet if I attempted even one twirl.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIpkbsQrfknu5_p9FK6KpKZVfEzrIVbpj_iW0ZH_xnRvEDQcPW0h9cei1wIt7S4e_NmFniF0tYQKG6FWiCHqtvnpte1M6ryG9RQ94BU6nxbOhNgj9ze5pcncZ_oEyChmo3Fuwm8dSxzJw/s1600/DSC04820.JPG"></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjWRjFbO2Z3z2mkKz6yaA4-djVBFSJ64mSq90y-f2MMKD080H37qa7mm7W5dIOfssniHxtn-8E-cNMgGmW8Yf-usOl3MsS-SPic9akgVetgvqhStgpIXhKxOpW10dMTs9G5Blm8RxwZNg/s1600/DSC04853.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529014732471848802" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjWRjFbO2Z3z2mkKz6yaA4-djVBFSJ64mSq90y-f2MMKD080H37qa7mm7W5dIOfssniHxtn-8E-cNMgGmW8Yf-usOl3MsS-SPic9akgVetgvqhStgpIXhKxOpW10dMTs9G5Blm8RxwZNg/s320/DSC04853.JPG" /></a>The next day I felt better about venturing out in the company of two men from the hostel heading to the famous Spice Market, or Egyptian Market (no one bothers the men, so unfair). The market has been around since 1660 selling spices, nuts, olive oil soaps, figs and our favorites- Turkish delight and dried fruits of every variety imaginable (yum, strawberries). We had a good time sampling the merchandise.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIpkbsQrfknu5_p9FK6KpKZVfEzrIVbpj_iW0ZH_xnRvEDQcPW0h9cei1wIt7S4e_NmFniF0tYQKG6FWiCHqtvnpte1M6ryG9RQ94BU6nxbOhNgj9ze5pcncZ_oEyChmo3Fuwm8dSxzJw/s1600/DSC04820.JPG"></a><br />After a little ceramic shopping I then had to scamper back to meet a group headed out to the U2 concert. Why do we have to leave SO early? Cause the Olympic Stadium takes 2 hours to get to through Istanbul's horrendous, gridlocked traffic (Turkey has never had the Olympics so unclear why they have a stadium that they clearly didn't finish after their failed bid.)<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIpkbsQrfknu5_p9FK6KpKZVfEzrIVbpj_iW0ZH_xnRvEDQcPW0h9cei1wIt7S4e_NmFniF0tYQKG6FWiCHqtvnpte1M6ryG9RQ94BU6nxbOhNgj9ze5pcncZ_oEyChmo3Fuwm8dSxzJw/s1600/DSC04820.JPG"></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOzW-iVlevaDeAEORVdLlxpEnJ2c6Rgm0ADzbY1x3bI9JqdAhxRfI2u8IVQK0O3AXwWtjhtR-O01FpNSCWvLGOfJqLMa4GqsjI-7_Own5YNkZN5r6opobWIxXG84JXnYe8sTGlZ4v5YAs/s1600/DSC04858.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529014744463029106" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOzW-iVlevaDeAEORVdLlxpEnJ2c6Rgm0ADzbY1x3bI9JqdAhxRfI2u8IVQK0O3AXwWtjhtR-O01FpNSCWvLGOfJqLMa4GqsjI-7_Own5YNkZN5r6opobWIxXG84JXnYe8sTGlZ4v5YAs/s320/DSC04858.JPG" /></a>But wait, we were only in the bus for a short distance, the bulk of our journey was on the old train where men stood by the open doors for a little air--- insanity!<br /><br />Anyway, we finally arrived at the concert to discover that U2 isn't so popular here- the stadium was maybe 1/3 full so the 360 degree thing didn't really pan out as they expected. Most of the people there appeared to be tourists- I hung out with Australians, South Africans and Dutch. I guess I should have known when the hostel workers didn't know who U2 is.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEpbSXBY6q9NkpEQzY4ph5W-C2OlYlnSOSbk0W0MZQ48sJToG1p-RjqRYIZg09OIdo8iqSwVsQiNm4_GOA_Tai52dBqHsuYyRIefmsJRy9HVNF2I5BmOEigQEe5vg8D1LLmvJGwNChjfU/s1600/DSC04865.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529019640734881378" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEpbSXBY6q9NkpEQzY4ph5W-C2OlYlnSOSbk0W0MZQ48sJToG1p-RjqRYIZg09OIdo8iqSwVsQiNm4_GOA_Tai52dBqHsuYyRIefmsJRy9HVNF2I5BmOEigQEe5vg8D1LLmvJGwNChjfU/s320/DSC04865.JPG" /></a>There must have been a few locals there though since Bono made some political statement and was booed- can't imagine he is used to that!!!<br /><br />The concert was really good, if lacking atmosphere, but the 3 HOUR trek home was less so. Unbelievable!!!!!!<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIpkbsQrfknu5_p9FK6KpKZVfEzrIVbpj_iW0ZH_xnRvEDQcPW0h9cei1wIt7S4e_NmFniF0tYQKG6FWiCHqtvnpte1M6ryG9RQ94BU6nxbOhNgj9ze5pcncZ_oEyChmo3Fuwm8dSxzJw/s1600/DSC04820.JPG"></a><br />Part of the U2 group included Cindy and Jeff, my companions for the last full day in Istanbul- we packed in a lot!<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeZ_HE_3bl3jSPq28x6ylwEzYtpFS-srhKsD7fpcNIfLLoGFOnW5N8tj2J7HapCpQEvvWsmZuLpQ-ryODC7eCONh8cO6z1MLg7uzmImi70PEDeB6tc6SOhlqvPSmawV800C3ZDmujR8dA/s1600/DSC04877.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529013094260108946" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeZ_HE_3bl3jSPq28x6ylwEzYtpFS-srhKsD7fpcNIfLLoGFOnW5N8tj2J7HapCpQEvvWsmZuLpQ-ryODC7eCONh8cO6z1MLg7uzmImi70PEDeB6tc6SOhlqvPSmawV800C3ZDmujR8dA/s320/DSC04877.JPG" /></a>We started off at the Grand Bazaar and believe it or not, I couldn't find anything worth buying in over 4,000 shops. I did want to get into a game of Rummy tile with one shopkeeper, but no time.<br /><br />All that lack of buying got us hungry so we ate at some tiny hole in the wall spot. Language was a barrier that became frustrating, plus my indecisiveness, so they just made me a pide (Turkish pizza) segmented with each of the options. It was delish!!!!!<br /><br />Belly full it is obviously time for a traditional Turkish scrub at the Cemberlitas Hamami, dating from 1584. The scrub was far inferior to the Korean versions I have had, but when in Turkey do as the Turks USED to do ;-)<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdBrAZRO-nTpb-QhS9kFz8DFUSzAvYgADzUQxFpaGYJM4Z0bP3xMSgjpMEyLTvMFumI-WOLKjjtY415lNqz8uNL_miiDPHvi85tgaORJxAWK1uiNzOhqLr9wY0FnlA25qP_8AaX0BOSAQ/s1600/DSC04892.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529013091194716466" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdBrAZRO-nTpb-QhS9kFz8DFUSzAvYgADzUQxFpaGYJM4Z0bP3xMSgjpMEyLTvMFumI-WOLKjjtY415lNqz8uNL_miiDPHvi85tgaORJxAWK1uiNzOhqLr9wY0FnlA25qP_8AaX0BOSAQ/s320/DSC04892.JPG" /></a>That finally leaves time for the Blue Mosque, at last!!!! In this case it really was saving the best for almost last. It is stunning inside! In 1606 the goal was to make it grander and more beautiful than the Haghia Sophia. I would say Sultan Ahmet I succeeded. There are tens of thousands of blue tiles that give the building its unofficial name.<br /><br />That evening we walked across the Galata Bridge (a little tardy for the planned sunset) to the hip part of town full of cool restaurants, bars and boutiques- glad I found it eventually.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj73C7_MCZrb1djOGHbuyp-86vd-M1mVqm-AZMn_s__eqffCnUYOgdqQ5YSrP1RKNenPSIAE5gg16AXDEe0ibnqmleaiifV9o8OsBjpGnTN-TGWuRLzqIQYUbwtwKu2VYr5meGxOcF5VxA/s1600/DSC04899.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529013078736434322" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj73C7_MCZrb1djOGHbuyp-86vd-M1mVqm-AZMn_s__eqffCnUYOgdqQ5YSrP1RKNenPSIAE5gg16AXDEe0ibnqmleaiifV9o8OsBjpGnTN-TGWuRLzqIQYUbwtwKu2VYr5meGxOcF5VxA/s320/DSC04899.JPG" /></a>What better way to top it off than some pudding at Saray Muhallebicisi, a pudding shop in operation since 1935 owned by Istanbul's mayor. 35 varieties- which to choose??? We opted against the burnt chicken breast pudding, but the rice pudding was scrumptious.<br /><br />Since the metro closes early we needed a taxi to bring us home- what a crazy adventure. 1) They never really seem to know where they are going (I guess cause the city is HUGE- you need places for all 20 million people) and 2) like Italy they like to chat even though you don't understand. It all ended with me on the driver's phone talking to someone about a great place to <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIrKMhf4RErDd-taZgzHOX-8U5UhF7DocExj6_U7JmT8FmmUptleH6iGPs2L6-n62lYry1OSx0qyByhR7gaahhn7-pcI5L0rcYSdibNMg3bl_eH7MMnrTLmhV0RI0LBx4z4Z2_qTeTgnE/s1600/DSC04905.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529013079970837170" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIrKMhf4RErDd-taZgzHOX-8U5UhF7DocExj6_U7JmT8FmmUptleH6iGPs2L6-n62lYry1OSx0qyByhR7gaahhn7-pcI5L0rcYSdibNMg3bl_eH7MMnrTLmhV0RI0LBx4z4Z2_qTeTgnE/s320/DSC04905.JPG" /></a>visit for a good photo--- too bad I was leaving tomorrow (not that I understood anyway). It was sweet though- the Turkish people were always looking to be helpful, even if that did border on harassment.<br /><div><div><div><div><br /><div><div>Before catching my afternoon flight to Doha I had time for one more stop- the Basilica Cistern, another goodie built by Justinian in 532. It is the best looking reservoir I've seen.</div><div></div><div>Goodbye Europe! I hope Asia is as kind.</div></div></div></div></div></div>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03761254329951728715noreply@blogger.com1