Patagonia

Patagonia.

The team!

A word with so many connotations. An expensive, outdoorsy, some times fratty brand. A symbol of the great outdoors that has been marketed to the masses. A place that I had always dreamt of seeing in the back of my mind, but a place so far away that it almost seemed imaginary, not unlike Neverland or Atlantis. A place where, as Erin put it, "plans became memories."

A couple of months ago when I met up with Erin in Bolivia for our spring break, she mentioned something about visiting Patagonia after her program. Though I was practically green with envy that she´d be able to make that journey, I brushed the thought aside, thinking that it would never be feasible for me. However, she had successfully planted the bug in my head and after weeks upon weeks of researching different travel alternatives, I finally found a way to go.

After finding a travel buddy (Dan, who I had met in Arequipa a couple of weeks before) to make the long journey with, tickets were booked and it was finally official.

We left Cusco on December 30th and took a 16 hour bus to Tacna, Peru, where we found a taxi that was willing to take us over the border into Arica, Chile. From there, we took a plane to Santiago, met up with Erin and her friend Sam, and bought Cinnabon to celebrate my 21st birthday. Yeah, I guess you could say I go pretty hard. From there we hopped on another airplane to Punta Arenas, and after a full 48 hours of travelling, we arrived in Patagonia.

The beach in Punta Arenas, Chile

So, I don´t know if you´ve heard or not, but apparently the further from the equator you get the colder it is? Who knew. We stepped out of the airport into a cold, wet wind that I had been completely unprepared for. But hey, I wouldn’t be my father’s daughter if I didn’t have at least three different layers of non-cotton clothing readily available, so I layered up and we set off to search for all of the sustenance we would need for the next five days on the trail.

En route to the supermercado, we passed by the main plaza where a big bronze man sits atop a pedestal in the center of the square. His toe (legend has it) possesses mystical powers, and so if trekkers find it within themselves to kiss said toe, their journeys will go smoothly. Not wanting to mess with the powers of the universe, we all took turns giving the toe a little smooch, and then continued on our way.

So, I’m pretty sure that when I go back to the states I’m going to take one look at the price of things, and go curl up in a little ball and stay there. Possibly forever. The world outside of Peru is really damn expensive! For the past four months I’ve been living in a place where an expensive meal out at a restaurant costs 20 soles, or the equivalent of $6. A fifteen minute taxi ride will cost you 4 soles, or $1.30. You can go to the market and buy a cute sweater made out of genuine alpaca (lies, but whatever) and leave a mere $10 poorer.

And now, I was standing in a Chilean grocery store looking around me and realizing that I am likely now the stingiest person on earth. I’ve been so so spoiled.

But anyway, we bought our groceries which consisted of lots of rice and beans, trail mix, tons of

Pricey, but SO delicious

chocolate (Erin and I made sure of it), oatmeal, and some ravioli, which was probably one of the smarter purchases we have ever made, and then made our way to the bus station to head to Puerto Natales. Fun fact: (disclaimer, I learned this from Erin’s blog so she gets full credit) Puerto Natales just so happens to be the Southernmost town in the world! How cool is that!?

We found a hostel, rented a stove and whatnot, and passed the fudge out.

The next day we finally began our journey. We began our 67km trek on the East end of the W trail, and began to make our way up to camapamento Torres, where we would be able to camp for free. On the way we encountered some casual 100kph winds while hiking along the side of a cliff face, and we may or may not have grabbed a tree and hung out for a while because it legitimately felt like we were going to be blown away (backpacking packs have a convenient sail-like effect), but no biggy.

We eventually made it to our campsite safe and sound, set up the tent, and began our ascent to the lake directly beneath the Torres del Paine, which are what the park is famous for. By the time we got there it was snowing, but the upside was that there was nobody else up there, so we did some sneaky rock hopping and went and sat at the edge of the lake, took some pictures, and soaked it all in.

The lake beneath Torres del Paine

Also, possibly the coolest part of the entire trip and something that never failed to make me happy: you can drink out of the lakes and rivers! And so I did, pretty much every chance I got, and let me tell you, glacial lake water is probably one of the more scrumptious things you’ll ever taste.

Once we had gulped down a few sips of the water, we headed back down to cook dinner (rice and beans) and then went to sleep.

The next day we awoke at a bright and early 9am, and didn’t get out of camp until around 11. But here’s another fun fact for ya: Patagonia is so far south that in the summer (which is right now) it doesn’t get dark until 10 or 11 at night! So we casually made our way back down the valley on our way to Campamento los Cuernos.

En route we ran into some DUers who had been studying abroad in Chile which was WAY cool and reminded me once more of how small this crazy world is.

At one point between Erin’s constant questions about everyone’s lives and our neverending chats about what kinds of foods we’re going to indulge in when we get back to the states, we came across a rescue party carrying a man out. Apparently he had put his foot down right between two rocks right as a big gust of wind came, and he fell over and fractured his tibia. He was going to be okay, but he wouldn’t be hiking for quite some time. Needless to say, we were a bit more cautious after that.

DU in Patagonia!!!

That night we arrived at the camp and decided girls would be on tent duty, guys on dinner duty. Erin and I wandered around camp for a while, found what seemed to be the very last tent site available, and pitched tent in a mildly questionable manner. Some ropes tied to sage brushes were involved, and we were somewhat concerned that the tent might blow away while we ate dinner, but we put our packs in it and hoped for the best.

We ate dinner, hung out with some students from Oregon that we met along the way who

attempted to teach us an Argentinian card game called Truco, and called it a night. We returned to our tent to find that it was still there! Truly great news.

The third day was spent hiking up the “butt crack” of the W trail, which despite the less than flattering name, happens to be one of the most beautiful parts of the trail.

Avalanche!

We left our packs at Campamento Italiano, and headed up the trail feeling as light as a feather. One of the cooler highlights along the way was a glacier across the valley from us. While we were setting up back at camp, we kept hearing these really loud noises that sounded like thunder, but it didn’t really make sense. Once we crested the hill and saw the glacier, everything became clear. Every once in a while, a giant hunk of snow would fall off of the glacier above and tumble down the cliff, sort of creating a miniature avalanche. From how far away we were, it didn’t look like all that much snow, but it must have been a massive amount based on how loud the cracks were. Pretty cool to witness.

We continued meandering up the valley, through some beautiful forests that we all agreed were straight out of The Lord of the Rings, and finally arrived at the mirador at the top of the valley. I really wish I was a more patient photographer, because a panorama of that place would have been incredible. It was like we were standing on top of the last piece of food left in a bowl, except in this case the walls of the bowl were incredible towers of rock that plunged out of the ground straight up into the sky caging us in.

Glacier Grey

We stayed up there for a bit and took some classic “Patagonia clothing in Patagonia the place” pictures but then the sky started to pelt down freezing cold rain drops at an alarming rate, so we got our behinds out of there.

The next day marked the last leg of our trip. We hiked 18.6km from Campamiento Italiano to Refugio Grey, which is situated right next to a massive glacier.

Though the whole day was full of spectacular views, the one moment that stuck in our minds the most was when we came up over a hill and were able to set eyes on the glacier for the first time. It looked like it was oozing out from the mountains behind it into the brilliantly blue glacial lake in front of it. You could clearly see all of the cracks and fissures, and I couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to be inside of one of those blue chambers. I mean, I’d freeze my butt off in about 12 seconds, but in the meantime it would look pretty cool I’d imagine. Scattered in front of the glacier were various ice bergs floating in the lake that had separated from their mother ship sometime in the recent past.  The color “ice blue” makes a lot more sense now after seeing those

icebergs suspended in the frigid water.

Killin it in the kitchen. 

After we set up camp we then went to the mirador where we could get the best possible view of the glacier, where we hung out until nearly 11pm.

After we had had our fill of glacier gazing, we went back to camp, had some hot chocolate, and hit the hay ready for a great night sleep. Too bad the wind had other plans for us. The gusts were so strong the entire night that the tent kept half-way collapsing in on itself and hitting us in the face/scaring us to death. Truly a miracle that nothing broke and we didn’t just blow away into the glacial abyss.

When morning finally came, we packed up and headed back the direction we came to catch the ferry out at the bottom of the valley, successfully having hiked the W Trail in Patagonia. No broken legs, no broken tent poles, and everyone’s minds were more or less intact. I’d call that a win.

That night Dan and I sadly parted ways with Erin and Sam, and met up with our Oregon friends for some more Truco and some Argentinian mate in a very cool hostel in Puerto Natales. In the morning we caught the bus back to Punta Arenas, where our flight would leave from the morning after. We hung out, binged on some internet, and went to the coast to chill with some penguins. Overall a pretty solid day.

The next morning we headed to the airport to begin our journey back to Cusco, which included two

planes and a 16 hour bus ride. Not the most ideal way to travel, but definitely the cheapest.

And so here I am! Back in Cusco, after taking the trip of my life to Patagonia for my 21^st birthday. I’m sitting in my house, and feeling extraordinarily lucky to have been given such an insane opportunity.

After all that whirlwind of a trip, I have a day and a half left in Cusco to say my goodbyes and do all of the last minute things that I want to do. After 4 months in this place, leaving is nearly unimaginable. I’ve done so much, and do feel that I fully took advantage of this experience, but there’s so much more that I never had a chance to do and it’s a weird feeling.

Leaving here feels very final. I left New York to go to school in Colorado, and I left Colorado to come here, but this is so much different. Those chapters remain open. I can still go home and visit my friends and family in New York, I’ll still be going to the University of Denver next quarter, but it’s not so easy to hop on a plane and visit Peru. This is a chapter that in a matter of days, I have to say adios to forever. And I’ve never experienced such finality relating to such a large chunk of my life before. I’m really having a hard time wrapping my head around it.

Thanks for a great trip!

But all I can really do is get out there and take advantage of the time I have left with these wonderful people in this unbelievable country. So goodbye for now. Keep your eyes out for a super (and when I say super, I mean super) emotional blog post coming soon…

El Camino Inca

Steeper than it looks, I promise.

Steps on steps on thousands of steps, following 26 miles in the footsteps of the ancient Andean peoples all of the way to Machu Picchu. As a girl who very badly needed a solid nature fix, it was the best thing I could have possibly done.  Four solid days of hiking and camping in the Andes was good for the body AND the soul.

We began our voyage in the town of Ollantaytambo where the tourist portion of the Inca Trail begins. With a few coca leaves in our cheeks and more in our backpacks, we were ready to go. The first of the four days was rather uneventful – we passed by some ruins and walked along a beautiful river, but we knew that the real challenge would be day 2, in which we would have to hike uphill all day to summit the first mountain pass, at a grand total of 13,776 feet in elevation.

The one notable activity from day one is our introduction to our eleven incredible porters who were accompanying us on the trail. Something that I was unclear about before we got on the trail is just how much support we would have. For the eleven of us on the trip, there were eleven porters plus a cook and two guides. Every day they would race ahead of us with their backpacks weighing up to 88 pounds and get to camp early so that they could set everything up. And by “everything” I don’t just mean tents. For every meal (including tea time, because what would we have done without that?) we sat in a high roofed tent furnished with stools and tables with a table cloth and metal cutlery. The farthest thing from rustic.For lunch, we had soup, the main course, and tea. For dinner, we had soup, the main course, and dessert. In the morning, we would be woken up with hot cups of coca tea delivered right to our tents. To be honest, it was moderately obscene. I didn’t go into the Inca Trail expecting to be waited on hand and foot. I expected to be hiking, camping, sitting on the ground, eating rice and beans out of a cup, and feeling at least mildly self-sufficient. Instead, we essentially had servants. As a person who’s used to going camping and doing everything on her own, it took a bit of getting used to, to say the least.

Beautiful picture taken of our porters by a professional
photographer in our group.

But the bottom line is that these men need jobs. They live in the small poorer towns surrounding Cusco and will come to the Inca Trail for a month at a time, doing the trip over and over and over again so that they can save up enough money to go home and farm their land. They don’t get paid much, but they’re all so happy and positive individuals that you’d never know they spend their days catering to every ridiculous need that the tourists might have. But the truth is that the Inca Trail wouldn’t be feasible if it weren’t for the assistance of these incredible gentleman; For a lot of people, they make the journey possible. So here’s a shout out to those crazy men and their massive calf muscles.

Day two began with uphill, persisted with uphill, and ended with uphill. When you talk to people who have done the Inca Trail, they always warn you about all of the stairs on the second day. They weren’t lying. I swear I haven’t seen that many stairs in all of my life put together. Up and up we went, through the cloud forest and eventually reaching the alpine tundra. From there we were able to finally glimpse the mountain pass that we would eventually be conquering – not the most encouraging sight I’ve ever seen in my life.

But onward we plunged, up towards the clouds. Though the top kept getting visibly closer and closer, it never seemed to be more encouraging. I had probably 500 feet of steps left and was just
about to take yet another breather when I heard a porter coming up behind me. Usually they’re going way faster than you could ever go and so it’s best to get out of the way, but as I stepped to the left to let him pass I heard him say something that I didn’t quite catch…

Me -- “Como?” (what?)

Porter – “Ven conmigo, amiga! Si se puede, no necesitas descansar!” (Come with me, friend! It can be done, you don’t need to rest!)

Me – (deciding it would be best to not whine to the guy with the 80lb backpack) “uhhh… okay!”  

View from the top of the highest pass!

And so we walked together the last 500 feet with me barely being able to breath, and him encouraging me every step of the way. Every time I started to look up at the steps ahead of me and get discouraged again, he would touch my arm or tell me I could do it, I would take one look at his monstrous backpack and remind myself that I had absolutely no right to be exhausted, and with his help I managed to make it the rest of the way to the top without pausing. At the summit of the pass he gave me a huge smile, shook my hand, and continued on his way. An absolute inspiration.

After my new friend left me there on the summit of highest pass on the Inca trail, I took a look around and was blown away. It suddenly hit me – I was in the Andes. And yeah, I know, old news. But for the last three months that I had been actually living in the mountains, it never hit me like it did right then. I looked around me at the incredible, dramatic landscape, and I seriously could have cried tears of joy I was so overwhelmed by it all. Between the endorphins from hiking all day, the fresh air hitting my lungs, and the incredible landscape that was unfolding before my eyes, I could hardly believe it. The Andes Mountains, the Inca Trail, Machu Picchu, all of these things that I had been hearing about my entire life, and I was actually there experiencing it. I literally have no idea what I did to get this lucky. No freaking clue.

A little while later when I had come down from my oxygen deprivation fueled Ande Mountain high, I dug into my backpack and pulled out my reward: oreos. So damn delicious.

First view of Machu Picchu from the SunGate!!!

Day 3 was longer, but with many many less steps. We got to see some more cool ruins along the way, but the really exciting part didn’t come along until about 1 or 2am the next morning when we were awakened by the biggest storm I have ever witnessed. And yeah, I know I’m prone to superlatives, but seriously this stuff was not messing around. The thunder was so heavy and the lightning was so vivid that it felt like our tent was being accosted by our own personal storm.

A mere hour and a half later, at 3:30am, we were awakened to begin the final leg of our trek. We forced open our eyes, shoved all of our belongings in our packs, and hiked down to the checkpoint where… we sat in the dark for an hour and a half until the checkpoint opened so we could race up the final hill towards the sun gate.

When the checkpoint finally opened its doors and we were allowed through, we began the final push up to the top of the pass where we would be able to see Machu Picchu for the very first time. The following 45 minutes was a mad dash to the top – all of us sweating balls but far too impatient to stop and take off our several layers of jackets. We walked along cliffs, passing people as we went, until we scaled one final staircase to emerge at the top of the sungate, where we were able to see Machu Picchu for the first time.

So here is my recommendation to you: if you want to see Machu Picchu, hike the Inca Trail. There’s nothing quite like hiking towards something for four days along a path that was quite literally built by the Incas. And there I finally was. After hearing about it, reading about it, and seeing pictures of it, I was actually standing there looking at it with my own two eyes. And it didn’t disappoint.

Entirely inspiring 65 year old couple from Holland who
I met along the trail. Always hiking with the biggest
smiles on their faces. 

For me the most amazing thing about Machu Picchu is what it’s surrounded by. It sits on the saddle between two enormous and steep mountains, circled by the Urubamba River thousands of feet below. The mountains surrounding it are impossibly steep and treacherous looking, making it impossible to not wonder who the hell came up with the brilliant idea to build a city on the top of one of these monstrous things. Those Incas seriously did not shy away from a challenge.

Once we had soaked in our triumphant moment at the sungate, we continued the rest of the way down the mountain to enter the ruins of Machu Picchu. Now, I won’t bore you with whatever random theories our guide came up with, but if you’re ever looking for something to do, check out the PBS documentary on the site. The thing is that even though we’ll never really know what the Incas were thinking or why they did the things they did, this doesn’t stop people from theorizing and making stuff up until the day they die. So while I’ve heard quite a few different stories about this stuff, the most seemingly genuine information I’ve received was from that documentary: check it out, it’s cool shit.

The next four hours or so were spent wandering around, taking the obligatory 726,389 pictures, and having our minds blown over and over again as we contemplated what this incredible place must have been like.

Once we felt that we had explored and soaked it all in as much as we could, we decided to head down the mountain into the town called Aguas Calientes that is located directly below Machu Picchu in order to enjoy some good food and the hot springs. We found a restaurant, paid way too much for some food (Aguas Calientes is by far the ritziest place I’ve so far encountered in Peru) and decided to adventure our way to the hot springs. At this point it was only Dalton, his girlfriend Caitlin, and me because everyone else had supposedly heard that the hot springs were nasty, but we figured they couldn’t be that bad so we decided to check them out.

Famous carving in the ruins -- shaped to mirror the
mountains behind it.

After asking no less than five different Peruvians where the hot springs were, we wound our way to the front gate where we were able to see a picture of the springs… “hmmm” we wondered aloud to each other, “those do actually look a bit grungy.” But hey, we were there, and it was only going to cost us 10 soles each (about $3), so what the heck, right?

We hiked up the river and entered the area with all of the pools to encounter the brownest, most unappealing water you can possibly imagine. But being the conditioned Peruvians that we are, there was no way we were about to waste 10 soles, so we all hopped in. Based on how much my bug bites stung as soon as I stepped in, it probably wasn’t the best idea in the world, but I’m alive and around to tell the tale soo…. Oh well!

We tried out a few different pools: one where there was a guy who was either sleeping or masturbating, one where there was a little girl who liked to throw dirt water into Dalton’s face, and one that wasn’t even warm, and then we decided to cut our losses and call it a day.

We left the hot springs, bought some candy, and wandered into the main square laughing at what a classic Peruvian adventure it all was. And that’s when it hit me.

Our team!

It’s obviously true that I’ll miss a lot of things about Peru. I’ll miss the people, the ancientness of it all, and even some of the food. But what I’m really going to miss most is the messed up adventures like we had that afternoon at the hot springs. I’m going to miss having something completely out of the blue and unpredictable happen to me every single day. I’m going to miss walking by a random guy peeing in the street yelling “it’s a free life, baby!” or walking into the main plaza to find people performing traditional dances to celebrate yet another saint, or sitting down at the kitchen table and taking a huge bite into what I thought was squash, but what actually turned out to be little pieces of cow ligament.

I’m going to miss being surprised every day.

As much as I’m absolutely ecstatic to be finally going home after a whole year away, leaving this place is going to be devastating. I’ve fallen in love with the chaos of it all. I’ve fallen in love with the fact that even though I’ve lived here for nearly four months, every day is completely unpredictable. I’ve fallen in love with the people, the culture, and the family that I’ve discovered here. Leaving here is not going to be an easy feat.

But how lucky am I, that I’m able to have so many people and places sharing a part of my heart? I couldn’t have asked for a better host family here. I have a mom who would do anything for me, host siblings to make fun of me, and a little host nephew to humor me. I’ve met travelers who have inspired me to believe that traveling the world is not beyond my grasp, and I’ve made friends here who have helped me through a little bit of everything: good and bad.

The sadness that I’m feeling now because of my impending departure from this truly life-altering experience is tempered by my gratitude for the amazing people that I’ve encountered. Because that’s what it comes down to, really. The sum of the experiences that I’ve had down here in South America has been incredible, but they’d mean close to nothing without all of the human connections that I made along the way. From the travelers I’ve encountered, to the friends in my program who have been through so much with me, to the host family that has been there every step of the way. The experiences that I’ve had with, and often because of, these people are what I’m going to carry with me moving forward.

And since in about 12 minutes it’ll officially be Thanksgiving, thank you. Thanks to each and every person who I’ve encountered along my way, because whether you were the porter who helped me to the top of the pass, the painter who needed my help with his English homework, or the travelers that I’ve connected with along the way, you have absolutely shaped my experience here. I could even honestly say that you were the ones who created my experience here.

So this year, for Thanksgiving, I’m thankful for the random life events that have brought me here and allowed me to meet the stellar personalities that I’ve encountered in the last several months. You’ve taught me that it’s not really the places that you see, or the things that you conquer, that make an experience memorable. Instead, it’s the human connections that you forge along the way.

Gracias por todo,

Hannah

Also if you're looking for a thought provoker, check this video out! (it's short, I promise)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yb-OYmHVchQ&feature=share

Our Mid-Program Crisis

Casually exploring some Inca ruins after school.
 Too cool for words. 

With a grand total of 31 days left in South America, things are beginning to get serious. I’m realizing, more than ever before, how much I’m in love with this place. From my host family, to the environment, to the crazy way that people do things here, this continent has stolen my heart.

As you may begin to notice in the following paragraphs, after we got back from break in Bolivia, we all had a “mid program crisis” of sorts. We realized that our time in Peru will quite literally be gone before we know it, so we made it our mission to do as much as we possibly can with the time we have left. We sat down, made a list of things we wanted to do before we left, and starting checking things off it that very same day. The following tales are my attempt at recounting our many crisis-fueled adventures in the past couple of weeks.

The adventures began with a casual horseback ride to some Inca ruins. So essentially the way it works if you want to go with the cheap option is that you walk up towards the outskirts of town until you run into some guy on the side of the street offering rides. Sounds legit, right? So we found a guy, negotiated a price, and we were on our way. Once we had hitchhiked our way up to the pasture with an older guy who gave us (three girls) his number so that he could “practice English” we were able to finally meet our steeds.

Why walk when you could just eat instead?

We walked over the crest of a hill into a green and luscious pasture and set eyes on three shining, strong, tall, and illustrious horses.

NOT. The animals were indeed present, but I’m not sure I would call them horses to be exact. Some sort of large donkey or perhaps really fat deer, but horses? Ehhhh….. But then again, we were paying a total of $15 to ride these things, so who were we to complain. As our friendly guide began pairing us up with our hors… uh, whatever they were, he asked us if we wanted to go alone or if we wanted a guide. Me, being an expert equestrian and whatnot, decisively said no. The other two were unsure, but I convinced them that we’d have more fun alone, and the horses knew the path anyway, so what did it matter? Oops.

So the three of us took off down the path, with our horses being a little pokier than we would have liked, but it was okay because the views of the mountains were absolutely unreal. We made it all the way down to El Templo de la Luna (Temple of the Moon) and dismounted so that we could explore the ruins. That was our first mistake. Our second mistake was to drag our horses over to a fence and put the reins on the posts (even though all of the cool kids – aka the tourists with guides – were doing it).

Though my horse grudgingly, but somewhat cooperatively, allowed me to attach it to the post, Morgan’s horse was a different story. We managed to drag it over to the post and gently place the reigns over the wood, but the second we turned around we heard a big noise and instantly began to regret our choice. Now, these horses weren’t exactly anything to be proud of, but I don’t care how big a horse is… when it’s rearing up on its hind legs and neighing five feet from your face, it’s just a little scary. Apparently Juan the horse wasn’t so happy with his new arrangement, so he decided that the best solution would be to rip the post right out of the ground.

At that point we realized that maybe it wasn’t the best idea to leave these horses unattended and explore the ruins, so we hopped back on, turned around, and went back. Or, we would have if Claire’s reins hadn’t broken and any of us were able to actually get back on our horses… see what expert material we are?

Some passengers that we picked up on our
four wheeler ride.

While we were gracefully attempting to remount our steeds, another group walked by and their guide asked us where our guide was. In response to our reply that we didn’t have one, he goes “well they never should have let you do that!” Yepp, helpful. Thanks. Before too long someone up at the pasture must have noticed our absence, and a boy came galloping down the hill to assist us. He made a few “tisk tisk” noises, helped us back up on or horses, (somewhat) fixed Claire’s reigns, and we were on our way.

Once we got back up the top, the man we rented the horses from was gone, and the boy conveniently told us that in order to continue we had to pay him more. And then it began to hail. To quote Clarita, “as emotions heated, the storm began to pick up” and I used every ounce of my impressive Spanish vocabulary to tell him in no uncertain words that we would not be paying him more, but we would be continuing with our tour. I might have even thrown an “en serio?!” in there somewhere. Again with the sass.

 After arguing for a while, our friendly guide finally showed up again, and agreed to take us the rest of the way on our tour himself. The boy joined us, we laughed and made up, ‘twas a great time. The things is that stuff like this will happen to you every day in Peru whether you like it or not. It’s unpredictable, ridiculous, and hilarious. All you can really do is recognize it for the what it is (great story material) and enjoy it anyway. So while I might be all sarcastic and cynical in the retelling, the truth is that even in the midst of it all I couldn’t help but take a step back and laugh, because this is Peru. And as absurd at it is every single day, I’m going to miss the hell out of this stuff.

A little taste of Halloween. We were... bunny
leopards! (obviously) 

The next on our list of adventures for that weekend was a four-wheeling trip up in the mountains surrounding Cusco.  We rallied the troops (including JFast!!!! Too freaking cool) and ventured out into the drizzly Cusquenan morning. With minimal training, no waivers, and hearts yearning for adventure (cheeeese), we took off. This time WITH a guide. Though nothing occurred that warrants another way too long story, a good day was had by all. We got to race through mud puddles, do donuts in fields, and have amazing views of the Sacred Valley all day long. Another worthwhile adventure.

Then I returned home for lunch and my host family proceeded to attempt to get me drunk. When I protested that I had to write a paper they responded that the alcohol would “give me inspiration.” Just another casual Sunday afternoon.

The following Wednesday we skipped school for the rest of the week (badasses) and took a night bus to Arequipa, Peru in time for Halloween. Perhaps one of my favorite South American cities yet. We spent our first day exploring the city and taking a free walking tour, which wasn’t nearly as exciting as the one in La Paz, but informative all the same. After going to a restaurant to try 4944847 different kinds of potatoes, we returned to the Wild Rover hostel to get ready for the Halloween festivities.

The Plaza de Armas in Arequipa

The next day once we had waken ourselves up enough to pack up and be ready to go, we headed to the bus station with a couple guys we had met on the walking tour to make our way to Colca Canyon. Being the free spirited travelers that we are, we were counting on being able to just buy bus tickets and head out, but since when has anything happened that conveniently in South America. The earliest tickets we could find for the 6 hour journey to Colca Canyon left at 1am. Due to our time limits we would have to start hiking pretty much as soon as we got off the bus, but we didn’t have much of a choice so we ended up buying the last seven tickets available.

We all schlepped back to the Wild Rover, hung around with some cool cats until midnight, and then dragged ourselves back to the bus station.

After a ridiculous 6 hour bus ride in the middle of the night in which they checked our tickets no
less than four or five times, we arrived in the hopping town of Cabanaconde. There, we scavenged some breakfast, bought tickets for our trip back to Arequipa (we had learned our lesson) and then prepared ourselves to descend into the canyon. Now only to find the trail… Since most people tour the canyon with a guide, there is essentially no signage telling people where the trails are. On top of that, for some reason cartographers haven’t taken a huge interest in exploring the canyon, so topographical maps are nonexistent. But surely the locals would know, right?

The thing with many Peruvians I’ve encountered is that they just tell you what you want to hear. For example, one might ask, “el sendero es por aca, no?” which means “the trail is through here, yeah?” to which they will consistently reply “si, claro!” or “yes, of course!” …no matter whether it actually is, and no matter whether they actually know what trail you’re talking about. After questioning a few locals and consequently encountering a few dead ends, we decided to just walk until we saw something promising. In the end we stumbled upon a tour group so we asked their guide if he could point us in the right direction. Victory.

The next 8 hours were spent zig-zagging our way down into the depths of the canyon with the end result of arriving at our hostel in an oasis called Sangalle near the river at the very bottom. If I was a better writer, I would attempt to describe the way my knees were about to collapse by the time we reached the bottom, or how incredible it was to think that this gaping canyon was once level with the rest of the landscape until the river slowly but surely carved away at the stone, or the way the cold river water felt against my blistering feet before we stopped for lunch… but the truth is that there’s not much to say about 8 hours of walking, so check out my pictures and let your imagination do the rest.

Colca River at the bottom of the Canyon. SO refreshing.

The next morning we woke up early enough to hike out of the canyon and catch our 11am bus ride back to Arequipa. Again, I won’t go into detail, but trust me when I say that the three straight hours of stair-master butt toning that we did that day did NOT get me all that excited about the Inca Trail. But it was all good practice, nonetheless.

We made it back to Cabanaconde just in time to buy some delicious ice cream and catch our bus back to Arequipa (6 hours) where we would then hop on another bus back to Cusco (10 hours) just in time to take a quick shower and head to class at 9am. Worth every second.

So those have been the adventures spurred on by our mid-program crisis. Tomorrow morning at 5am we take off to follow in the footsteps of the Incas all the way to Machu Picchu… SO excited for some more nature time. This past weekend I came down with what I thought was some sort of food poisoning, but after a quick visit to the clinic I discovered that it was in fact a parasite eating at the walls of my intestines. So needless to say, nothing much exciting happened this weekend other than me watching WAY too much TV and journaling my little heart out. So yeah, I’ll have a few friends to keep me company while walking up all of those steps on the Inca trail…

And because there’s no way I could go a whole blogpost without getting at least a little bit sentimental…

I’m pumped to go home! This place has taught me so much and I’m absolutely still looking forward to the next month of adventures that I’ll have here, but home is sounding more appealing every day. It’s been nearly a year since I’ve been to my house, nine months since I’ve gotten to goof around with my brother or have quality chats/adventures with my dad, and the few days that I got to see my mom before I left was hardly sufficient to make up for the months of absence. I want to wander through the woods with the dog and just breathe it all in.

Life has been SO good to me lately. I go to a good school where I’ve made a ton of incredible friendships and connections, I got to work at the most mind-blowing summer camp this year with some of the most inspirational people I’ve ever met, and now I’m here in Peru going to school and living and adventuring and being taught a new lesson every single day. Sometimes I can’t wrap my head around it all. But the downside is that because of all of these crazy adventures, I don’t get to be around the people and the foundation that made all of this possible. And what I’m finding is that it’s increasingly hard to be present here in the moment, but also demonstrate just how thankful I am for everything that’s gotten me here.

How could  you NOT miss the heck out of this
crazy beautiful place?

So I know this isn’t even close to being sufficient, but here’s a big shout out to the coolest, most supportive family a girl could ask for. You all are the reason I’m here and able to do these things, and there’s no way in the world that I’ll ever be able to tell you how thankful I am. I miss the heck out of all three of you and can’t wait to see you on the 15^th of December. 31 days!!!!!!  

But now it’s time for my little parasite friends and I to bid you adieu… we’re off to Machu Picchu! (I’m a poet, it’s cool)

Nos vemos,

Hannah

Southern Hemisphere Spring Break

Wellcome of my blog!

During my absence from blogging, I have been exploring Inca ruins, planning adventures, and learning to play the ukulele! Sorry for my lack of presence in your lives, but I assure that I have been very present in my own!

So, in the time away from the internet, a lot of life has happened (weird how it works that way) -- Brace yourself for a long (but entertaining – don’t quit yet!) one folks!

La Frontera

 The first of our many adventures during the trip nearly ended our voyage before it had begun. Well, my voyage at least. Fun fact about Bolivia #1: Americans (and only Americans) have to pay a $135 tax in order to be able to enter the country. This makes for a more hectic border crossing than most, since the border officials tend to be picky about which bills they’ll accept, frequently causing the American tourists to take so long at the border that their bus leaves without them.

What happens is you buy a bus from wherever in Peru, to wherever else in Bolivia, and when the bus gets to the border crossing it stops and gives you 20 minutes to go through all of the customs stations and fill out all of the paperwork. Which is great and everything if you’re a European and can get through no questions asked, but not so great if you’re an American and have to wait in line to pay. Especially when you’re Hannah and are the last person waiting in line to pay.

And this is how our bus crossed Lake Titicaca... Seems legit.

So I was calmly waiting in line, knowing that freaking out and thinking about all of the stories of Americans getting left behind would do me immensely more harm than good. I had all of my nice, crisp bills ready to go and all of my paperwork appropriately filled out. It was down to me and two other people, and I could see the bus out the window so I figured I was probably going to be okay. One person goes, the next person goes, now it’s my turn. As I stood there, patiently waiting for the man to check and double check the validity of my cash, I glanced out the window to see my bus slowly (but surely) starting to pick up speed. With all six of my friends on it.

It was focus time. As soon as the man FINALLY determined that I was not trying to jip the Bolivian government, he gave me my papers and told me to go onto the next station. I ran over, basically threw my passport at the customs official to be stamped, grabbed it back out of his hands, and took off running with all 3758 of my necessary papers in hand, sprinting towards the bus. To my surprise (and to the surprise of many onlookers sitting comfortably on the bus) my subpar sprinting skills got me to the door just soon enough for the driver to notice the crazy girl running beside the bus making lots of desperate hand gestures and he stopped long enough to open the door for me to get in. Bienvenidos a Bolivia!

La Ciudad

The first stop on our Southern hemisphere spring break took us to the crazy city of La Paz, the capitol of Bolivia. As we summited the peaks on the outskirts of the city and the bus began taking us down the slope into the bowl of La Paz, I was amazed at how enormous it is.  The landscape is incredible – essentially the city was founded in a circular valley with 15,000 foot mountains surrounding it on all sides. WAY bigger than Cusco and not at all what I was expecting, which just added to my astonishment.

We got off at the bus stop, where we found a very friendly man willing to give us directions to our hostel. We asked how far it was and if we should take a taxi, but he said it was “muy cerca” (very close) so we took off walking with our giant backpacks in tow. A mere 40 minutes later, we had wandered around the city enough to finally encounter our destination: Wild Rover Hostel, La Paz.

Night out in La Paz

The Walking Tour – Gratis!

One of the more noteworthy activities that we did in La Paz (travel agent Hannah highly recommends it) was the walking tour of the city. We met up with two crazy Bolivians with an incredible knowledge of the city who led us tourists around for three hours, providing lots of entertaining anecdotes along the way.

The tour began outside of one of the craziest social experiments that I’ve ever heard of: San Pedro prison. This is a place where they throw any kind of criminal, from tax fraud to murder, and then essentially just let them do their own thing. They aren’t allowed to come or go, but other than that their freedom is endless, including being able to bring their families in to live with them. The guards don’t go in, the prisoners don’t go out, no questions asked.

So basically they’ve developed their own code of ethics, their own government (including their own form of capital punishment), and their own economy. They have one to five star residences, which they can pay for depending on the amount of money they  had before entering prison. The one star residences are basically just shacks, but the five star residences have their own personal bedroom, kitchen, and bathroom. Pretty ritzy, if you ask me. They make money on the inside through starting their own little businesses. Either they smuggle things in to sell, or they provide a service of some kind, including (until the guards started to catch wind of it) tourism.

Check out those cute, fuzzy llama fetuses!

Essentially, tourists visiting La Paz would hear about this crazy place, and they would ask around until they found someone who could smuggle them in. Once inside, they could see how the prison worked and wander around. Dangerous? Sure, but also quite cool. During my stay at the hostel I met three guys who were trying to get in to see what went on inside. I saw them leave the hostel, but never noticed them return… yikes? Call me a nerd, but the psychology student inside of me couldn’t stop thinking about the endless research opportunities inside a place like that. Quite loco.

Another fun tidbit that we picked up on during our tour was the Bolivian equivalent of facebook relationship statuses: the women’s hats. Apparently a few centuries ago some European hat maker thought it would be a good business decision to ship thousands of hats across the pond to sell to Bolivian men. Unfortunately, the hats were way too small for the men to wear. However, being the ingenious businessman that this guy was, he decided to start marketing to the women instead. A few hundreds of years later, these women’s felt hats are their greatest pride and joy.

These hats can cost up to a few hundred dollars, which is the equivalent of a Bolivian fortune, but these women keep buying them. They sit perched atop of the women’s heads, a bit small for them as well, but a fashion statement nonetheless. But back to the relationship status part. Apparently if they wear their hats sitting straight on top of their heads, they’re married or taken. However, if they wear them tilted slightly to the side, it means that they’re single and looking for a mate. Who needs pheromones when you have old felt hats? Honestly.

After witnessing the flirtatiously tilted hats at the food market, we continued on to visit the “witch market.” Here, you can buy anything from love potions, to voodoo dolls, to… dead llama fetuses! A little something for everyone! It was here where our guides informed us of the rituals one MUST carry out before constructing a building unless you want said building to be forever cursed. There are two types of rituals, depending on the grandness of the building:

Love potions for Alex... because he needs them.

Ordinary buildings, including skyscrapers, apartment complexes, houses, businesses, etc.: For these buildings, one must buy a llama fetus and carry out a three day ritual with lots of alcohol before burying the fetus beneath the building. During this ritual, it is essential that all construction workers be provided with endless drinks. If said ritual is not carried out, the construction workers will refuse to build the structure on the grounds that one of them will surely be harmed in the process. Mhmmm… I see what you did there.

2.       This category is reserved exclusively for mansions and any other ritzy sort of structure: In order to ensure that this type of building remains free from harm, you need all of the above mentioned things except in exchange for a llama fetus, you need to bury a live human being beneath the foundation. That’s normal, right? So apparently what the people do who take this seriously do is wander the streets at night until the find a homeless looking drunk person, give them a drink with some sort of drug in it (the Bolivian version of roofies) and throw them in the trunk of their car. They then drive them up to the construction site and toss the body in the foundation, bury them alive, and cement over the top to conceal the evidence and seal their fate. Moral of the story: don’t wander around Bolivia at night while drunk off your ass.

After learning about all of these quaint Bolivian traditions, we returned to the hostel to meet up with a few friends who are studying abroad in Chile AND my good friend Simon who had just come back from a jungle trek! (for those of you who have read my past blogs, you’ll remember that this is the guy from London who I survived a tarantula attack with – friends for life, obviously). Erin, Logan, and Rob all hail from DU as well, so seeing a few familiar faces was a nice treat.

Blame it on the Altitude

The next couple of days were spent exploring La Paz, witnessing one of the most bizarre forms of wrestling in the entire world (google “cholitas wrestling” if you’re curious and looking to further procrastinate – it won’t let you down), and trying to shove coca tea down Erin’s throat to help with her severe altitude sickness. Look at me, becoming a real Peruvian.

Death Road

After our days of rest, we set off to ride mountain bikes down the most dangerous road on earth. If you don’t believe me, take another procrastination break and google “death road bus crashes.” We left our hostel bright and early, took a bus up to the very tippy top of the Andes, and began outfitting ourselves for the descent. After donning elbow pads, knee pads, and a full face helmet, we were ready to test our luck.

One of the views from Death Road

We began by cruising through the switchbacks of the Andes Mountains on a paved highway before we got to the actual Death Road portion of our adventure.  Once we got to the death road part, we were casually informed that due to a landslide on a different road that day, Death Road (which is usually no longer used for actual cars) was open for business. So in addition to the 12,000 foot cliffs that we’d be avoiding all day, we’d also be dodging oncoming traffic! Fun!

Biking 40km down that thing was honestly probably one of the most fun things I’ve done in a long time. We went under waterfalls and through rivers, all the while flying down as quickly as our confidence would let us. One awesome thing about the company that we chose is that our guide didn’t hold back at all. (Mother advisory: Please continue at the end of the paragraph). He went as fast as he wanted, and let us go as fast as we wanted, which while maybe possibly being a wee tad of a bit dangerous, was way too fun to put into words. Rob, Logan and Alex all managed to more or less keep up with him, and surprisingly I wasn’t close behind! Every time they stopped I would pull in a few seconds later and Alex would look at me with an entirely surprised look on his face and give me a high five. He later told me that he was pretty sure I had grown a pair of balls that day… not quite sure whether to take that as a compliment or not, but I’ll roll with it.  

At the beginning of the day we were at such a high elevation that we were surrounded by clouds, but as we got lower and lower we were able to actually see the dizzying cliffs that we were biking next to -- helloooo adrenaline.  And low and behold, we all made it down in once piece! Even Erin, who probably doesn’t remember most of the day she was so sick, was a trooper and made it down without a single complaint.

After a little rest and relaxation in some hammocks at base camp, we all piled back in the bus to drive three hours home to La Paz where Alex and I had to catch a night bus to the Uyuni salt flats.

Salar de Uyuni

Paz.

After an incredibly bumpy but surprisingly restful 12 hour night bus to Uyuni, Alex, our travel buddy Patrick and I were ready to see the biggest salt flats in the world first hand. Ever since I had read about them in my little Aventuras Spanish book at DU, and before I had any clue where I was going to study abroad, I knew that I wanted to visit the salt flats someday. And now I was finally there. Look at me achieving my dreams and stuff!

To be entirely honest, words aren’t capable of describing the absolute immensity of the Salar de Uyuni. It’s similar to looking out at the ocean because of the vastness, but the fact that it’s white and sterile adds a surreal nature to it. It’s peaceful, honestly. It’s a kind of nothingness that I had never previously witnessed and being in the middle of such emptiness had a sort of calming effect. I think especially coming from Cusco and La Paz, both fairly chaotic cities, I needed that sense of spaciousness and tranquility. ‘Twas nice.

Sunset/Moonrise

The first night of our tour we slept in a hostel at the base of a (thankfully) inactive volcano. We gathered our bags from the jeep and walked into our room to find three perfectly made beds complete with Barbie and Hannah Montana REVERSIBLE bedspreads! I mean, I was pretty sold by the whole getting to see the salt flats thing, but really without those bedspreads I think I would have felt like something was missing. Truly the cherry on top of our trip. And, of course, in typical make-fun-of-Hannah fashion, the boys requested (demanded) that I sleep in the bed with Hannah Montana staring up from it with all-knowing eyes. Silly me, thinking that as soon as I left the states all jokes about Miley Cyrus would cease. Not only did I get to sleep next to her that night, but my host family likes to call me Hannah Montana as well. Seriously, all of this globalization crap has got to end. Soon.

But anyway, after the boys had made several hundred too many Hannah Montana jokes, we decided to go out to see the sunset from the edge of the salt flats. And it was incredible. Almost incredible enough to rival my bus bathroom sunset that you may have read about in my previous blog. Yeah, that good. But instead of trying to be all poetic and shit and describe it, I’m going to spare a few hundred words and a few minutes of your time. Just take a look at the picture.

Definitely worth the early wake-up.

The next morning, Alex and I got up disgustingly early to go see if the sunrise would rival the beauty of its evening counterpart. Let’s just say we weren’t disappointed. Please reference the skillfully photographed picture to the right of the page. Photo cred: yours truly. Prints will be sold for $125 apiece, and I’d really advise that you call now because I’ve already had quite a few inquiries.

During the rest of the day we chilled with some mummies, sang Puff the Magic Dragon on top of a volcano, and ate a shit ton of food, and visited an island inhabited solely by cactuses (cacti?). Day well spent.

Volvemos a La Paz

From there, we returned to the town of Uyuni to catch another night bus back to La Paz and ended up running into Claire, Morgan, and some friends who we made in La Paz. They had plans to stay another night in Bolivia, so instead of going back to Cusco to Alex I split off and went with them instead. Because I could! We ended up exploring La Paz one last time and celebrating our friend’s birthday before catching the bus home the next day.

And that was the real beauty of it all. We decided we wanted to stay another day, so we did. We wanted to visit the salt flats, so we did. It was a sort of self-assured freedom that I’m not sure I had ever experienced before that trip. We came and went as we pleased, meeting all sorts of incredible personalities along the way. For me, during that 10 day period, we were the very description of free spirits and I think once you experience that kind of spontaneity it’s even harder than usual to be pinned down to a routine. However, humans live in such a way that often times we don’t have much of a choice.

The best travel buddy a girl could ask for.

So I think what I realized during the hours and hours of time that I had to think on the buses is that it’s quite possible to compromise; it’s possible to live with a routine but also live with spontaneity. The trick, I think, is to open your mind each day to an experience that’s new to you. Even if it’s slightly uncomfortable or awkward, we truly live when we see something in a way that we’ve never seen it before.

I think that’s what makes some of the travelers I’ve met such special people. They live each day with uncertainty: not knowing where they’re going or when, but always knowing that wherever they go, they’ll find something that they’ve never before seen. Something new and special every day. And yes, of course it’s easy to get restless after experiencing such easy freedom, but with just a little extra work each one of us is

capable of experiencing it during our every day, seemingly monotonous lives. Here’s what I wrote in my journal on the bus when I first had this realization:

Welcome back to Peru!!!

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned from my explorations, it’s to live each day with new eyes. To make sure that even on the most mundane of days, I allow myself to see, learn, or experience something unique. To ensure that every day I’m able to understand once more what it’s like to truly feel alive.”

So my challenge to myself, and to you, is this: open your eyes. Allow yourself to see the moment that presents itself every day where you can choose to be awake. Say “yes” more times than you say “no.” CARPE DIEM, if you will.

And in other news, if you all haven’t listened to the new The Head and the Heart album, you should really get on it ahorita (that means right now). 

Chau!

Hannah