I am really going to attempt to get myself up to date over the next couple of weeks. A lot has happened since Peru.
Into Bolivia - Hardcore, Third World
After separating and following my near death by poisoning in Peru, my Dutch friend, Roos, and I wanted to hook up and travel through Bolivia together. My first experience with Bolivia was when I tried to get into the country. No problem for the other 80 people on my bus because they were all European. The US government has not been very nice to Bolivia. Combine that with a totally crooked government lead by the only indigenous leader in the Americas who also has a serious ax to grind and you have a formula for all kinds of border crossing fun for US citizens. For starters, we have to pay $130 to enter the country and get a special adhesive stamp placed in our passports. Everyone else gets in free. Secondly, we have to fill out five forms, one of them declaring that we are not in the US military or with the CIA. As the Euros were breezing through customs, I was in the interrogation room with good cop/bad cop asking me questions about my intentions for coming into the country. With everyone (except lone American) back on the bus waiting to cross, all of my paperwork seemed to be in order and now it was time to pay my fee and be on my way. Not so fast. It seems that they only wanted American dollars and they couldn't take credit cards. They also didn't want Peruvian Soles (which I had a sufficient supply of to pay for my visa). I had $40 US and $250 in Soles at the official exchange rate. There was a guy with a little stand selling cigarettes and other stuff who could change my Peruvian money for Bolivianos. But not at the official bank rate of course. I quickly turned $250 into $60 (can you say shakedown) so I was $30 short. I went back to the bus and pleaded for a loan until I could repay in Copacabana and some cool Norwegians came through with a loan (the Dutch, Danish, and Norwegians are now what I consider some of the greatest people on earth). I went back to the customs guys and because I was paying in their home currency and not dollars, there would be a "surcharge." See where this is going? Everyone has now been on the bus for 40 minutes watching me go back and forth and scrambling to get myself across the border. Most of them very amused, a few annoyed. But just about everyone at this point was ready to pitch in and do whatever it took to get me across. I went back to the bus and this time five people followed me off the bus to tell these dickheads to let me in, that I had paid, and were offering to pay them whatever their stupid "surcharge" was. So, with 20 more dollars in their shitty currency in their hands, I was able to get back on the bus to a rousing round of applause and we proceeded on to Copacabana.
Copacabana - No, not THAT Copacabana
The bus takes you directly from Puno, Peru to Copacabana in Bolivia, which is also on Lake Titicaca. In terms of geography, they are identical. And even though Peru is poor and Puno is a poor part of Peru, you can sense that Bolivia is even poorer as soon as you enter. This is true even though Copacabana is a bit of a tourist/traveler hub. And although this is the case, Copacabana is much more charming than Puno. It's a much smaller town and it seems like they are really trying. Some of the lodging is of very good value and I even found a place that served a mean American breakfast. My friend Roos was paying something like $3 a night for a hostel with breakfast included. And it was actually clean which is more than I can say about many places I/we stayed in Peru.
After getting some cash and finding a room, I went down to the center part of town (I would say downtown but the place is tiny) because I needed to pay back my loans from the passengers on my bus. I felt obliged to buy some beers for their efforts and nobody objected so I paid them back and we threw back some $.50 beers until I could go track down Roos.
I was able to find Roos and of course we decided that we should have more beers. We had been told before Bolivia that the people were awful and really hated gringos. We found this not to be the case, at least in Copacabana. The people were much more civil than the people in Puno, Peru which is where I had come from. Or Peru in general for that matter. The street vendors are not aggressive and not in your face like the Peruvians and the people seem almost amused by your presence as opposed to the feeling from the Peruvians that you are a walking ATM. Anyway, Roos and I decided to go have dinner at one of the restaurants on the main street that leads to the lake, which is where all the backpacker/travelers hang out. The places are geared only for that crowd. In fact, the town has experienced exponential growth in the past five years or so because it is now on the South America circuit. The circuit that I am starting to find annoying (that's another story). We received our first taste of the indifferent and slow Bolivian service which we would experience for the next six weeks as we traveled through the country. As is also normally the case in Bolivia, the food was mediocre at best. Getting a refill on your drink and getting check are next to impossible, another Bolivia trademark. We went out and walked around town and asked a local if their was anywhere we could go for a drink. He said "no, no, no, es MUY tarde" (no, no, no, it's VERY late). It was 9 PM. He was right, everything was closed.
The next day Roos went on a tour to an island on Lake Titicaca and I stayed back to explore town and the surroundings since we were leaving for La Paz the next day. The main attraction in town is the cerro (which translates to a hill but it usually means a pretty significant hill). The town is already at almost 13000 feet and the cerro is about 800 feet straight up from town. Needless to say, it's work getting to the top. I only say this because of what you find when you get there. The cerro itself is a huge rock formation right next to the lake. They have built steps into the rock and there is a Jesus statue or cross on top, I can't remember which. Lots of cerros/high points in Latin America have Jesus or a cross. The Latin Americans are allegedly all Catholic, even though the divorce rate in all of the countries is probably 70% and perhaps half of the children are born out of wedlock which only serves to further undermine my complete disdain for organized religion. Honestly, it's completely meaningless here. I had no idea. I thought the fact that the whole continent was supposedly religious was very significant. It turns out that it's just confusing. The women do actually have to hold themselves to some set of standards but the men can literally do anything they want. So they build giant Jesus statues and big crosses to make everyone feel better. The one thing I wanted to do in town (and the only thing to do unless you go on some kind of tour) was climb the cerro.
The road to the cerro goes straight up out of town and then the cerro itself goes straight up with stone steps cut into the side. The climb up is steep and difficult. Very difficult. The reason I make this point is that you climb and climb up the maze of steps and when you reach the top, you see two of the most unexpected things - vendors and trash. The amount of trash in both Peru and Bolivia is staggering. That is a whole separate story of its own. The scale is immense, especially in the context of how many other places in other countries have the same problem. I've only seen a couple and have tried in my head to extrapolate what I have seen across other parts of the two countries, all of South America, and the rest of the world. Virtually all of it ends up in the ocean at some point. It just can't go on forever with no consequences. It is really something to see and think about. There must be 50 vendors who are selling everything from soft drinks and bottled water (heavy) to really shitty plastic toys. And they have tons of them. I couldn't get over the fact that these people (at least someone) hauled all this stuff up here. There were a fair number of people up there but not enough to justify carrying hundreds of pounds of water and cheap toys up several hundred feet at that altitude. Or any altitude. I guess desperate people will go to desperate measures to make a living. I could understand selling drinks up there - I was pretty happy to see a Gatorade when I got up there. But the toys? If you saw the place, you couldn't help but be puzzled. Apparently a lot of people light candles up there (there are thousands) for loved ones who are sick or perhaps who have recently passed away. The place is supposedly somehow sacred because it has the cross or Jesus statue or whatever it is. I can't remember and my camera that had photos of the place was stolen later in Bolivia.
There are lots of dogs on the streets of Bolivia, just like Peru. Most of them you can take one look at and know that you should avoid contact at all costs. But this dog adopted me as soon as I left my hostel and walked with me all day. It was actually one of the few dogs I had seen that didn't look like they were near death. He just wouldn't leave my side for some reason. And I hadn't fed it. So after going back to my hostel for a while it was time to go meet Roos for dinner. The dog was waiting for me and followed me into town. Pretty funny and relevant to the next part of the story.
Roos and I went to dinner and had another mediocre meal with the usual indifferent service and then found a place to have a drink that was open later than 9 PM. We played some Dutch card game and drank rum late into the night, unsure if we should have been consuming the ice cubes in our drinks. Impossible to get a drink even though there was nobody in the bar. And the bar was FREEZING cold as it was outside. Not a lot of heaters in Bolivia, including my hostel. Or this bar apparently. We left to walk Roos home and there was my new animal companion, waiting in the cold. We went to Roos' hostel and had to knock on the door for 10 or 15 minutes before someone finally opened the door. I left with the dog (we had given it a name but I can't remember it) and began walking the very dark streets of Copacabana. After my Peru experiences, I learned to always carry rocks in these places. A couple blocks down the road, my projectiles would come in handy. As we came to the "main" intersection in town, it was just me, the dog, and the other dogs out on the streets. Three of them saw us coming and just charged. My dog took off and met two of them head on. He immediately sent one off yelping and was tearing apart the other one. The third one was making a b-line for my white ass. I've never had a particularly strong throwing arm but I have always been accurate. I locked and loaded and plowed that motherf**ker right between the eyes. Adios amigo. My dog was chasing his victim down the street as I reloaded just in case. He came running back looking very satisfied with his work. I had leftover pizza which I immediately fed to him as a reward. He escorted me back to my hotel and I wondered if he would be waiting in the morning. I wanted to ship him back to the US. The next morning he was there to walk down to the bus with me. I bought him a bunch of fried trout before I got on the bus to La Paz with Roos. I was sad to leave him behind. I have no idea why he chose to follow me around but dogs are whores so I'm sure he's eating someone else's trout by now.
On to La Paz, a real life third world captial city.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Update, January 2010
I've been catching grief for all of my blog updates. You know, the ones that don't exist. For one thing, the Internet infrastructure in Chile and Southern Argentina is terrible. I can't figure out what's going on in Chile. The economy is the best in South America outside of Brazil and I believe better on a per-capita basis. But the food is horrible and their Internet infrastructure/access is possibly worse than in Bolivia. I have been down in Chile and Southern Argentina for the last month since coming back so I have been a bit limited. But I am changing my trip a bit and also my blog updates so anyone who wants to know where I am can find out. I'm going to keep adding some stories from places (I still need to add Bolivia, Argentina/Chile, and Uruguay).
I just got my visa for Brazil today so I am leaving on Sunday for Florianopolis. Laying low in Buenos Aires for a few days. Going to a bar that shows American football tonight to watch Texas/Alabama and then Saturday going down there to watch the playoffs with some people I met there last weekend. Hoping to find the Chargers game in Brazil next weekend.
First Bolivia update coming today.
I just got my visa for Brazil today so I am leaving on Sunday for Florianopolis. Laying low in Buenos Aires for a few days. Going to a bar that shows American football tonight to watch Texas/Alabama and then Saturday going down there to watch the playoffs with some people I met there last weekend. Hoping to find the Chargers game in Brazil next weekend.
First Bolivia update coming today.
Monday, November 9, 2009
Southern Peru and almost Bolivia (Part 2)
Arequipa
The whole reason for going to Arequipa is to see the Colca Canyon because it's "amazing." Arequipa itself is a pretty nice town. After being in Puno, it seemed like a relative paradise. It has a reputation as being dangerous and the cab drivers are supposedly especially sketchy, at least that's the story. There are lots of rules about which cabs you should take and which you should avoid. I stood inside the bus terminal and checked my notes to make sure I could identify a legitimate and safe cab. But sometimes you just know. I walked outside and saw this guy in his 50's with his cab parked inside the terminal parking lot, which was the only one inside the lot and knew the guy was ok. You have to read the cab warnings for Arequipa to understand what I was so worried about but I I could tell this dude was ok. He turned out to be great and I used him many more times while I was there because he was trustworthy and cool/funny. I checked into my hostel/hotel (some are just hostels, some are hotels, some are a little of both) and checked out the town. The town has good infrastructure and restaurants and a few good bars. It, like a lot of places in Peru, was a heavy mining and agriculture area that is becoming more dependent on tourism. Lots of foreigners in any case. I just kind of hung around town for a few days and did what I do in every town - walk it. It's amazing how many people don't get out and walk. For so many people, the entire purpose of their trip is to get out of a bus and take a photo of that real and imagined culture. They never go see anything that is not in the Lonely Planet books. I find the least interesting parts of most places are the parts that I am supposed to go see. Seeing a disgruntled customer get sprayed with mustard by the guy who works for the bus company, now that's interesting!
After hanging around town for a few days and going out drinking with gay Francois from Quebec, I booked a tour of Colca Canyon which is the big attraction in the area. There was one gay bar in town that Francois wanted to visit but his boyfriend back in Canada didn't want him going alone so he told him that he would take the straight guy that he had been hanging out with (me). I told him I would go because he really wanted to go but to my small relief, it was closed down. Oh well, I guess we had to go talk to women instead. We went back to the bar we had left and I was immediately accosted by a very drunk and horny Peruvian girl. She told me she would pay me to have sex with her. We never got to a price, I decided it was time to go home before something bad happened. It would soon enough. As soon as I got back to my room and laid down I was hit by a tidal wave of nausea. I knew right away it was going to be bad. I went to the bathroom and vomit launched my dinner and three Cuba Libres into the toilet. I staggered back to bed but that only lasted about five minutes. Back to the bathroom but with the added bonus of shitting my pants. I was the most violently ill I have ever been. I spent the next seven hours retching and lying on the bathroom floor in my own filth. I awoke to an IV in my arm and paramedics/a doctor working on me. The maid heard the silence from my room and opened the door to find me passed out on the bathroom floor. They called the medics and I snapped back to consciousness as soon as the started giving me fluids. Meanwhile, the maid cleaned me up with wet towels and took my clothes away to wash them. The doctor thinks the slutty girl in the bar slipped me something. I was lucky to get home. The maid and the girl at the front desk spent the next 36 hours checking on me every hour and bringing me Gatorade until I was strong enough to get moving. They took such good care of me and I am forever in their debt.
The whole reason for going to Arequipa is to see the Colca Canyon because it's "amazing." Arequipa itself is a pretty nice town. After being in Puno, it seemed like a relative paradise. It has a reputation as being dangerous and the cab drivers are supposedly especially sketchy, at least that's the story. There are lots of rules about which cabs you should take and which you should avoid. I stood inside the bus terminal and checked my notes to make sure I could identify a legitimate and safe cab. But sometimes you just know. I walked outside and saw this guy in his 50's with his cab parked inside the terminal parking lot, which was the only one inside the lot and knew the guy was ok. You have to read the cab warnings for Arequipa to understand what I was so worried about but I I could tell this dude was ok. He turned out to be great and I used him many more times while I was there because he was trustworthy and cool/funny. I checked into my hostel/hotel (some are just hostels, some are hotels, some are a little of both) and checked out the town. The town has good infrastructure and restaurants and a few good bars. It, like a lot of places in Peru, was a heavy mining and agriculture area that is becoming more dependent on tourism. Lots of foreigners in any case. I just kind of hung around town for a few days and did what I do in every town - walk it. It's amazing how many people don't get out and walk. For so many people, the entire purpose of their trip is to get out of a bus and take a photo of that real and imagined culture. They never go see anything that is not in the Lonely Planet books. I find the least interesting parts of most places are the parts that I am supposed to go see. Seeing a disgruntled customer get sprayed with mustard by the guy who works for the bus company, now that's interesting!
After hanging around town for a few days and going out drinking with gay Francois from Quebec, I booked a tour of Colca Canyon which is the big attraction in the area. There was one gay bar in town that Francois wanted to visit but his boyfriend back in Canada didn't want him going alone so he told him that he would take the straight guy that he had been hanging out with (me). I told him I would go because he really wanted to go but to my small relief, it was closed down. Oh well, I guess we had to go talk to women instead. We went back to the bar we had left and I was immediately accosted by a very drunk and horny Peruvian girl. She told me she would pay me to have sex with her. We never got to a price, I decided it was time to go home before something bad happened. It would soon enough. As soon as I got back to my room and laid down I was hit by a tidal wave of nausea. I knew right away it was going to be bad. I went to the bathroom and vomit launched my dinner and three Cuba Libres into the toilet. I staggered back to bed but that only lasted about five minutes. Back to the bathroom but with the added bonus of shitting my pants. I was the most violently ill I have ever been. I spent the next seven hours retching and lying on the bathroom floor in my own filth. I awoke to an IV in my arm and paramedics/a doctor working on me. The maid heard the silence from my room and opened the door to find me passed out on the bathroom floor. They called the medics and I snapped back to consciousness as soon as the started giving me fluids. Meanwhile, the maid cleaned me up with wet towels and took my clothes away to wash them. The doctor thinks the slutty girl in the bar slipped me something. I was lucky to get home. The maid and the girl at the front desk spent the next 36 hours checking on me every hour and bringing me Gatorade until I was strong enough to get moving. They took such good care of me and I am forever in their debt.
Colca Canyon is Amazing
The tour company took mercy on me and let me rebook my Colca Canyon trip when I was feeling better. Another stroke of bad luck. I was stuck on a tour with some of the most horrendous people imaginable. Now the Europeans like to think they are such great travelers and that they are generally far superior to Americans. I have to admit they are right a lot the time. I mean, I come from a country that elected GW Bush president twice (ok once, the first was a fraud orchestrated by his brother) and where half the country still believes that Iraq and 9/11 are somehow related. Right, as much as Canada and 9/11 are related. Wait, Canada is closer to New York so maybe they are more related. Quick, call the Marines, we're marching on Toronto! People don't actually still believe that, do they? Please tell me the answer is no. Anyway, the Euros don't get a free pass any more than than the ugly American does nor the Australian guy who thinks his accent and reputation as a crocodile-hunting big wave surfer and world class beer drinker puts him beyond reproach - more on this in my forthcoming book where I break down the various types of travelers (a preview: obviously the Australian guy, the slutty chick from let's say Finland who screws every night on the bottom bunk in the dorm at the hostel, the Canadian girl who just wants to be loved, the American with an inferiority complex). Where was I? Oh yeah, the horrible Euros on my tour. First of all, I don't do tours. For many reasons but mostly because the make me claustrophobic and they always take longer than necessary to show you what it is you want to see. The tour guides always over-explain everything and it's always a crapshoot in terms of who you end up with. Unfortunately you just can't see a lot of places unless you go on a tour and so it was for Colca Canyon.
Fine, when everyone first gets on a tour bus with strangers, nobody tends to talk much. But generally by day three people will say hello to you after spending two or three entire days with you. Nope. These German assholes, French bastards, and Spanish dickheads couldn't even muster a "buenos dias" in the morning. Every day, I would get on the bus and say buenos dias to everyone. Nothing. No eye contact, not a nod, nothing. Part of this of course is the difference between travelers and tourists. Travelers talk to each other, share information, and are always aware and sensitive of the solo traveler, generally inviting the solo people in and making them feel a part of things. These people all had folders with their itineraries where every minute of every day was planned by the package tour they were on. The entire object of their trip is take and collect photos with their $3000 digital SLR cameras. EVERYTHING is a photo op for them. All they care about is the camera. And the fake culture? They eat it up. It is amazing that exactly the things they find interesting are the things I find uninteresting - a Peruvain kid dressed in traditional clothing pretending to be a llama herder, an indigenous woman with a giant eagle on her shoulder that is supposedly some long lost relative, the people who pretend to live on islands that they make out of reeds (even though the speedboat they use to go back to town every day is moored to the back of the island). Now the whole traveler vs. tourist thing can be a very snobby, elitest thing and many of the so-called travelers think that they are very cool and are always trying to one-up other travelers or prove that they are "better" travelers etc. when all they are doing is following exactly the same route as everyone else. And they are always cooler than tourists. We're all tourists at the end of the day so they need to get over themselves but the mentality is a good reference point and many "tourists" have a good mentality and approach to what they are doing. It may just be that they don't have the time or (someone else's) money to travel with. That being said, the people on my tour represented the worst of the package tour, high-impact visitor with no real interest in what's actually going on in the places they visit. They just want a good slideshow when the get home. I compare it to the twenty-somethings who go to La Paz, Bolivia and stay in their hostel for ten days doing blow, go to bed at 6 AM every day, and then say that they have "been to Bolivia." You don't need to have been there to know what I'm talking about.
Well, to be honest, Colca Canyon is pretty amazing. It would be even more amazing if you could do a trek into the canyon and really get to see it, which is possible. I talked to someone who did that and it sounds like it was even more incredible from down inside the canyon. The tours all drive along a dirt road that runs along the rim of the canyon. And there are LOTS of tours. The area is a relatively new attraction in terms of people actually knowing about and it is being bombarded by visitors and traffic. Every stopping point or turnout on the road is jammed with buses and loads of people with loads of cameras all taking photos of things that are not going to look very good on the slide show when they get home (I know because mine don't look very good). The big attraction is the condors that "live" near Condor Point. You see, the condors really did live right below condor point on the cliffs a few years ago. And then the tourists came in droves and scared them off. So now they throw dead animals on the rocks to attract the condors. Nothing like keeping the environment in its natural state. The condors are cool but I've seen them in Big Sur but it was a good opportunity for the German and French people to take a billion photos.
After seeing the condors, it was back to the little town that we stayed in the night before (I can't remember the name) for an overpriced lunch at the restaurant used by a bunch of the tour companies because, after all, this is Peru and everyone wants your money. Many of the families in town make their livings through tourism so I guess it is good for them in the end. But there is so much cultural dilution and drugs and things like prostitution that come along with the tourist dollars that I am not entirely certain it's worth it in the end. I won't even get started on the trash and what to do with it. That is an entire entry of its own. After lunch it was back on the bus for five hours of nobody speaking to me or making eye contact. Needless to say, I was the FIRST person off the bus back in Arequipa. Douchebags.
One side story. I was walking back to my dungeon of a room at 2 in the morning in the little town and I stumbled (no, I mean stumbled) onto this Incan woman cooking french fries on this side street. I couldn't resist. I had no idea the Inca were known for their french fries. I knew that they built Macchu Pichu, hereded llamas, made cool hats out of Alpaca, and were slaughtered by the Spanish. But french fries? I need to franchise this lady. I tasted one and it was perhaps the best fry I had ever had. I was going to wait until I got back to my room and sit down and really enjoy with the one beer I knew I had left. I walked through the dark streets and was almost at the gate to my "hotel" and I said to myself, "oh shit, I don't need this." A pack of four dogs took up an aggressive stance around me and one had even grabbed my pant leg. I knew I should have gotten the rabies shots. I picked up a rock when he pulled away and slammed in the head with it. He yelped and backed off which left me three to deal with. One little terrier-looking asshole of a dog that I particularly wanted to kill. I had already thrown a rock at him earlier. I couldn't even lean down to get another rock because they would come at me when I did. I only had one other choice. Throw the fries and make a run for it. The little fuckers were more than happy to chase my snack across the street and I was able to get behind the gate. I drank my last beer on my bed made out of sandbags and vowed to return to this little town someday. With poison. Lots of poison.
Are we in Bolivia yet? I'm only three countries behind. Did I mention that I didn't like the people on my tour?
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Southern Peru and almost Bolivia (Part 1)
Out of Peru and into Bolivia (almost)
A well-defined tourist trail exists from Cusco to Southeastern Peru that takes people from Cusco to Puno/Lake Titicaca and then to Arequipa, which is the base for Colca Canyon. When you get close to some of these places, you are obligated to go see the main attractions. After all, when am I going to be in Southern Peru again? The problem is, everyone tells you that [fill-in-the-place] is "amazing. The Dutch girl I was traveling with, Roos, and I look at each other and roll our eyes every time someone tells us that we "have to visit" someplace and/or that something is "amazing." Some people have to convince themselves that some things are amazing because they've traveled so far to see them. Some people really do believe that everything they see is amazing. Some people, like Roos and me, are just cynical and not as easily impressed. At least we don't lie to ourselves or others which is the nature of the cynic. So when someone asks me (or us) how some place is, we tell them that it is just ok, worth a visit, or, in rare cases, amazing.
Colca Canyon is Amazing
I had the guy at my hostel buy me a bus ticket for the 12 hour trip to Arequipa. Of course he told me that he would honor my wishes and get me a ticket on "the best" bus company. Fortunately he did. Except it was on the worst bus company. But this was Peru and everyone in Peru is going to steer you in the direction that makes them the most money, even if they know your bus is going to drive off a cliff. Mine didn't drive off a cliff but it was an interesting ride.
I like to ride in the top/front of the two-level buses down here to sit over the driver and look out at the countryside and craziness. The toothless attendant at the bus station was very nice and we talked for a long time about things, including my overall trip which she couldn't even fathom. The bus stations are very confusing and she assured me that she would get me on the right bus when it pulled in. Some non-Spanish speaking travelers in the bus station took advantage of my Spanish and my new friendship to make sure that they also were going to get on the correct bus amidst the chaos. Since I didn't know anything about the bus company chosen for me, I would check out every bus as it pulled into the station and say to myself "I hope it's not that one" or "that one isn't so bad." I saw a couple of buses pull in and I said "I hope it isn't that pink one." Just then my new toothless amiga said "este es tuyo." I thought "of course it is." The bus had an interesting aroma and a layer of something on the seats - sweat? food? dirt? oil? The guy next to me was pretty certain that the armrest and half of my seat belonged to him. It was about 97 degrees when we got on the bus (it would eventually plummet to 43 below zero) and across the aisle from us, a family of five occupied two seats. I actually thought it was a good strategy - buy the front of the bus and squeeze as many as you can on your side of the aisle. I'm not sure what they paid because I wasn't even sure what I paid. I know the guy at the hostel totally ripped me off. The bus pulls out of the station and you think you're leaving but the fun is just beginning. The bus makes several stops in town to pick up more passengers. For some of these passengers, it's a free for all and they run and fight for seats. Some of them seem to have reservations and calmly walk to seats. I do know that they all received serious discounts on their tickets.
I wasn't prepared for the first stop in Juliaca. For one thing, I had already passed through Juliaca once and knew it was a place I would never stop. Under any conditions. I had seen the town from the train but I still couldn't really entirely grasp the scale and craziness. We arrived at the "bus station" after driving down a bunch of alleys and side streets and dirt roads because half the streets seemed to be under construction or blocked by piles of rubble. The bus station is really just this insanely crowded street with bus company offices where buses park and pick up passengers. When we stopped and the driver opened the door, the bus was instantly under a full frontal assault by food vendors. They were selling trout, empenadas, jell-o, bread, big rounds of cheese, soft drinks. There must have been 25 of them and they were mowing down passengers who were trying to get off the bus. I stood up to get off the bus and the lady across the aisle (of the party of five in two seats) told me not to, that it wasn't safe for me outside. I was hungry and I wanted to get away from the smell of fried trout mixed with dirty bus and poor hygiene. In the end, I took her advice and just bought a coke from one the vendors on the bus. I didn't really want to take a chance with the bus or street food and give myself the shits on a bus with no bathroom for ten hours (even though the guy who bought my ticket told me it had a bathroom). Ater a few minutes in the station it appeared that we were about to leave and a bit of an argument starts behind me. It seems that the bus company has double-booked a seat and the guy who just got on the bus is trying to get the seat from the guy who has been sitting in it. The guy sitting in it is telling the dude that he's not moving and he should take it up with the bus company. Seeing the technology they use (i.e. none), I can't believe this doesn't happen all the time. How did they even know I was sitting in my seat and/or on the bus? Anyway, the driver's assistant goes back and gets the guy to leave the bus. They start pushing and shoving and the guy from the bus company sprays mustard in the would-be passenger's face (now that's customer service) and the guy starts chasing him around the bus. The assistant starts pounding on the bus to get the driver to start going. The bus starts to drive down the crazy, insane, crowded street with the door open and the assistant guy jumps in while fighting the mustard face guy off, Indiana Jones style. He eventually succeeds in knocking the guy off the bus and all the while I appear to be the only person shocked or entertained by any of this. I'm looking around with that "are you seeing what I'm seeing" look on my face but all the Peruvians have their usual faces of stone, looking very disinterested.
The bus ride was pretty uneventful for the next ten hours although we would stop in the middle of nowhere to add or drop off passengers with the vendors boarding and selling food or whatever. We did make one "bathroom" stop that was a little bit unexpected. The bus pulled over and everyone seemed to know this was the bathroom stop. I walked off the bus (we were in the middle of nowhere) and started to wander off into the rocks but there were people dropping deuces ten feet from the bus and I noticed that, uh, many buses must stop in the same area and decided that I was not going to walk off into that minefield. So I just walked around the bus and basically went in the road. And then got back on the bus as quickly as I could because I didn't want to see any more of what I had already seen. Spealing of vendors, this guy got on our bus at the turd stop. I'm not sure where he came from or how he got there. This is a cold, dry, windy, desolate place. I think he hops on buses and rides them one way and then rides them back, selling his product. Not sure why he chose this particular spot of all spots but I'm sure he has his reasons. As for his product, it was some kind of powder that I heard him say cures the following: rheumatism, arthritis, gastritis, heart disease, diabetes, impotence, hair loss, (some cases of) cancer, constipation, diarhea, and insomnia. The guy talked for 30 minutes and then something incredible happened - half the bus bought the shit. And these are poor people because this is a crappy bus. The guy across the aisle asked me what I thought. I told him that anything that claims to cure everything probably cures nothing. He told me that he hadn't really thought about it that way but he was thinking about buying some for his "gastritis." I have foiund that every stomach problem in Latin America is diagnosed as gastritis. I can't believe how many people I have heard say they have gastritis. Especially considering that I have never met anyone in the US with this common Latin American affliction. Having been cured of an ulcer myself and knowing the symptoms, I think most of these people have ulcers and most ulcers are caused by a bacteria and easily cured. I convinced him to save his money and to try and find a doctor who is aware of this cause/cure and see if antibiotics can fix the problem. Hopefully I helped the guy out.
Arequipa and Colca Canyon...
A well-defined tourist trail exists from Cusco to Southeastern Peru that takes people from Cusco to Puno/Lake Titicaca and then to Arequipa, which is the base for Colca Canyon. When you get close to some of these places, you are obligated to go see the main attractions. After all, when am I going to be in Southern Peru again? The problem is, everyone tells you that [fill-in-the-place] is "amazing. The Dutch girl I was traveling with, Roos, and I look at each other and roll our eyes every time someone tells us that we "have to visit" someplace and/or that something is "amazing." Some people have to convince themselves that some things are amazing because they've traveled so far to see them. Some people really do believe that everything they see is amazing. Some people, like Roos and me, are just cynical and not as easily impressed. At least we don't lie to ourselves or others which is the nature of the cynic. So when someone asks me (or us) how some place is, we tell them that it is just ok, worth a visit, or, in rare cases, amazing.
Colca Canyon is Amazing
I had the guy at my hostel buy me a bus ticket for the 12 hour trip to Arequipa. Of course he told me that he would honor my wishes and get me a ticket on "the best" bus company. Fortunately he did. Except it was on the worst bus company. But this was Peru and everyone in Peru is going to steer you in the direction that makes them the most money, even if they know your bus is going to drive off a cliff. Mine didn't drive off a cliff but it was an interesting ride.
I like to ride in the top/front of the two-level buses down here to sit over the driver and look out at the countryside and craziness. The toothless attendant at the bus station was very nice and we talked for a long time about things, including my overall trip which she couldn't even fathom. The bus stations are very confusing and she assured me that she would get me on the right bus when it pulled in. Some non-Spanish speaking travelers in the bus station took advantage of my Spanish and my new friendship to make sure that they also were going to get on the correct bus amidst the chaos. Since I didn't know anything about the bus company chosen for me, I would check out every bus as it pulled into the station and say to myself "I hope it's not that one" or "that one isn't so bad." I saw a couple of buses pull in and I said "I hope it isn't that pink one." Just then my new toothless amiga said "este es tuyo." I thought "of course it is." The bus had an interesting aroma and a layer of something on the seats - sweat? food? dirt? oil? The guy next to me was pretty certain that the armrest and half of my seat belonged to him. It was about 97 degrees when we got on the bus (it would eventually plummet to 43 below zero) and across the aisle from us, a family of five occupied two seats. I actually thought it was a good strategy - buy the front of the bus and squeeze as many as you can on your side of the aisle. I'm not sure what they paid because I wasn't even sure what I paid. I know the guy at the hostel totally ripped me off. The bus pulls out of the station and you think you're leaving but the fun is just beginning. The bus makes several stops in town to pick up more passengers. For some of these passengers, it's a free for all and they run and fight for seats. Some of them seem to have reservations and calmly walk to seats. I do know that they all received serious discounts on their tickets.
I wasn't prepared for the first stop in Juliaca. For one thing, I had already passed through Juliaca once and knew it was a place I would never stop. Under any conditions. I had seen the town from the train but I still couldn't really entirely grasp the scale and craziness. We arrived at the "bus station" after driving down a bunch of alleys and side streets and dirt roads because half the streets seemed to be under construction or blocked by piles of rubble. The bus station is really just this insanely crowded street with bus company offices where buses park and pick up passengers. When we stopped and the driver opened the door, the bus was instantly under a full frontal assault by food vendors. They were selling trout, empenadas, jell-o, bread, big rounds of cheese, soft drinks. There must have been 25 of them and they were mowing down passengers who were trying to get off the bus. I stood up to get off the bus and the lady across the aisle (of the party of five in two seats) told me not to, that it wasn't safe for me outside. I was hungry and I wanted to get away from the smell of fried trout mixed with dirty bus and poor hygiene. In the end, I took her advice and just bought a coke from one the vendors on the bus. I didn't really want to take a chance with the bus or street food and give myself the shits on a bus with no bathroom for ten hours (even though the guy who bought my ticket told me it had a bathroom). Ater a few minutes in the station it appeared that we were about to leave and a bit of an argument starts behind me. It seems that the bus company has double-booked a seat and the guy who just got on the bus is trying to get the seat from the guy who has been sitting in it. The guy sitting in it is telling the dude that he's not moving and he should take it up with the bus company. Seeing the technology they use (i.e. none), I can't believe this doesn't happen all the time. How did they even know I was sitting in my seat and/or on the bus? Anyway, the driver's assistant goes back and gets the guy to leave the bus. They start pushing and shoving and the guy from the bus company sprays mustard in the would-be passenger's face (now that's customer service) and the guy starts chasing him around the bus. The assistant starts pounding on the bus to get the driver to start going. The bus starts to drive down the crazy, insane, crowded street with the door open and the assistant guy jumps in while fighting the mustard face guy off, Indiana Jones style. He eventually succeeds in knocking the guy off the bus and all the while I appear to be the only person shocked or entertained by any of this. I'm looking around with that "are you seeing what I'm seeing" look on my face but all the Peruvians have their usual faces of stone, looking very disinterested.
The bus ride was pretty uneventful for the next ten hours although we would stop in the middle of nowhere to add or drop off passengers with the vendors boarding and selling food or whatever. We did make one "bathroom" stop that was a little bit unexpected. The bus pulled over and everyone seemed to know this was the bathroom stop. I walked off the bus (we were in the middle of nowhere) and started to wander off into the rocks but there were people dropping deuces ten feet from the bus and I noticed that, uh, many buses must stop in the same area and decided that I was not going to walk off into that minefield. So I just walked around the bus and basically went in the road. And then got back on the bus as quickly as I could because I didn't want to see any more of what I had already seen. Spealing of vendors, this guy got on our bus at the turd stop. I'm not sure where he came from or how he got there. This is a cold, dry, windy, desolate place. I think he hops on buses and rides them one way and then rides them back, selling his product. Not sure why he chose this particular spot of all spots but I'm sure he has his reasons. As for his product, it was some kind of powder that I heard him say cures the following: rheumatism, arthritis, gastritis, heart disease, diabetes, impotence, hair loss, (some cases of) cancer, constipation, diarhea, and insomnia. The guy talked for 30 minutes and then something incredible happened - half the bus bought the shit. And these are poor people because this is a crappy bus. The guy across the aisle asked me what I thought. I told him that anything that claims to cure everything probably cures nothing. He told me that he hadn't really thought about it that way but he was thinking about buying some for his "gastritis." I have foiund that every stomach problem in Latin America is diagnosed as gastritis. I can't believe how many people I have heard say they have gastritis. Especially considering that I have never met anyone in the US with this common Latin American affliction. Having been cured of an ulcer myself and knowing the symptoms, I think most of these people have ulcers and most ulcers are caused by a bacteria and easily cured. I convinced him to save his money and to try and find a doctor who is aware of this cause/cure and see if antibiotics can fix the problem. Hopefully I helped the guy out.
Arequipa and Colca Canyon...
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
South from Cusco
South from Cusco
I left Cusco after being there for too long. Cusco is one of those places that everyone says you have to visit. I guess you have to go to Cusco because it's the gateway to Machu Picchu. It's a place that the tourists and travelers all visit but people talk about it like the place itself is something special. It's good in that lots of people are there to have a good time but besides the party and its proximity to archeological sites, it's kind of crappy. Everyone wants to rip you off and/or sell you something and lots and lots of fake culture. More about fake culture when I talk about Arequipa and Southern Peru. Anyway, I stayed too long. Had a good time but it was good to get out. On to Puno, Lake Titicaca, Arequipa, and Bolivia.
Puno
I took the train from Cusco to Puno, about a ten hour trip. We went through some cool villages and natural areas of the Andes, although the Andes are not particularly beautiful. They can be impressive but not necessarily beautiful. Part of the reason I have not been that impressed with the mountains themselves is that I am spoiled. California has the Sierras and the Siskiyous and places like Yosemite, the North Coast, and Big Sur. Plus I have spent so much time in the Rockies, Montana, Idaho, Oregon, and other places in the Western United States. We have so much and so many people in the world have never seen mountains like we have. The Andes are relatively dry and the rivers in the populated areas are so polluted, it's hard to be impressed. Traveling always makes me realize how incredible California is. The rural villages were interesting but very desolate. Some were downright bleak. I passed through probably the bleakest place I have ever seen, a town called Juliaca. The entire town is a giant street market and a huge garbage dump. Dry, windy, cold, dirty, crowded, not close to anything. It ain't San Francisco or San Diego, that's for sure. I've lived in paradise most of my life.
I arrived in Puno just after dark and got off the train just in time to catch someone walking off with my backpack. They give you a luggage ticket and then throw the bags on the train platform in a pile and nobody watches. Obviously the local luggage thieves know the system and stand there and kind of randomly grab a bag and walk off. When you see someone carrying your bag, it takes a second to register. Mine is pretty distinct so I realized what was happening in time to walk up to the guy, punch him in the back of the head and grab my bag while telling him in Spanish he was a piece of shit thief. Gringo 1 Peruvian thief 0. I had a $7 a night hostel picked out near the train station which turned out to be the coldest, darkest place I have stayed so far. At least they had Wi-Fi. It's amazing, you have these luxurious places where the Internet doesn't work and you have places with no heat and barely any light with super fast Wi-Fi. Go figure. It was probably 25 degrees inside my jail-cell-like room but at least I could do some research for my fantasy football team. I was in puno for the "Great cultural experience" that are the Uros floating islands. The quotation marks are there because the Uros are one of many "cultural experiences" in Peru that seem to exist mostly, if not entirely, for tourists with cameras. And money. The Uros Islands are islands constructed out of reeds by the indigenous population around Lake Titicaca. They measure maybe 50x50 and are where the Uros people "live." The Uros people also make their living fishing on boats that they also "construct out of reeds." Understand that for so many people, their trip is all about taking pictures of things, real and imagined. It's kind of like getting off of a plane in a bunch of countries, going through customs to get your passport stamped, and getting back on the plane. They never go to a city and just walk around on their own, maybe wander into a bar or cafe and talk to some locals or just go sit in the park and watch what's going on. EVERYTHING is a photo op. To the point that it's annoying. And everyone now is apparently Ansel Adams and has to get THE shot. Sorry but I'm walking through your picture. The Uros Islands are made for these people. Literally. I mentioned fake culture earlier. The Uros, as far as I can tell, is mostly a fabrication of a culture that once existed. Germans and French with $3000 digital SLR cameras love this stuff. The islands are pretty cool and the people do build them. I took a boat out to one of the islands with about 30 people (one of 50 boats going to various islands that day). The first sign of trouble when we arrived was the craft market set up like everywhere else you go in Peru. Hats, necklaces, carved figurines, etc. It reminded me that this is Peru and everything is a sales opportunity. While the Germans and French walked around taking 100s of photos (I took three), I went to talk to a little girl. First, I asked her if she lived there. Confirming my suspicions, she said no. At least she didn't sleep there. Right. Then we started talking about the boats and she asked me if I wanted to know a secret. Well, yes. She took me behind the huts and showed me how they really built the boats. Under a tarp were hundred of plastic water bottles used for the hulls. They didn't tell me that in the brochure. Then, for a charge, some people could ride on one of the "reed" boats. About half the people piled on and the natives serenaded them with "My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean" as they floated away. Appalling. Fake culture at its finest and lots of photos for the Euros with their expensive cameras. We went on to some other regular island on the lake (after our boat caught on fire once) and saw other people pretending to live like they did several hundred years ago. I was over it by then. Back to my cold and dark room in Puno for the night before leaving for Arequipa.
I left Cusco after being there for too long. Cusco is one of those places that everyone says you have to visit. I guess you have to go to Cusco because it's the gateway to Machu Picchu. It's a place that the tourists and travelers all visit but people talk about it like the place itself is something special. It's good in that lots of people are there to have a good time but besides the party and its proximity to archeological sites, it's kind of crappy. Everyone wants to rip you off and/or sell you something and lots and lots of fake culture. More about fake culture when I talk about Arequipa and Southern Peru. Anyway, I stayed too long. Had a good time but it was good to get out. On to Puno, Lake Titicaca, Arequipa, and Bolivia.
Puno
I took the train from Cusco to Puno, about a ten hour trip. We went through some cool villages and natural areas of the Andes, although the Andes are not particularly beautiful. They can be impressive but not necessarily beautiful. Part of the reason I have not been that impressed with the mountains themselves is that I am spoiled. California has the Sierras and the Siskiyous and places like Yosemite, the North Coast, and Big Sur. Plus I have spent so much time in the Rockies, Montana, Idaho, Oregon, and other places in the Western United States. We have so much and so many people in the world have never seen mountains like we have. The Andes are relatively dry and the rivers in the populated areas are so polluted, it's hard to be impressed. Traveling always makes me realize how incredible California is. The rural villages were interesting but very desolate. Some were downright bleak. I passed through probably the bleakest place I have ever seen, a town called Juliaca. The entire town is a giant street market and a huge garbage dump. Dry, windy, cold, dirty, crowded, not close to anything. It ain't San Francisco or San Diego, that's for sure. I've lived in paradise most of my life.
I arrived in Puno just after dark and got off the train just in time to catch someone walking off with my backpack. They give you a luggage ticket and then throw the bags on the train platform in a pile and nobody watches. Obviously the local luggage thieves know the system and stand there and kind of randomly grab a bag and walk off. When you see someone carrying your bag, it takes a second to register. Mine is pretty distinct so I realized what was happening in time to walk up to the guy, punch him in the back of the head and grab my bag while telling him in Spanish he was a piece of shit thief. Gringo 1 Peruvian thief 0. I had a $7 a night hostel picked out near the train station which turned out to be the coldest, darkest place I have stayed so far. At least they had Wi-Fi. It's amazing, you have these luxurious places where the Internet doesn't work and you have places with no heat and barely any light with super fast Wi-Fi. Go figure. It was probably 25 degrees inside my jail-cell-like room but at least I could do some research for my fantasy football team. I was in puno for the "Great cultural experience" that are the Uros floating islands. The quotation marks are there because the Uros are one of many "cultural experiences" in Peru that seem to exist mostly, if not entirely, for tourists with cameras. And money. The Uros Islands are islands constructed out of reeds by the indigenous population around Lake Titicaca. They measure maybe 50x50 and are where the Uros people "live." The Uros people also make their living fishing on boats that they also "construct out of reeds." Understand that for so many people, their trip is all about taking pictures of things, real and imagined. It's kind of like getting off of a plane in a bunch of countries, going through customs to get your passport stamped, and getting back on the plane. They never go to a city and just walk around on their own, maybe wander into a bar or cafe and talk to some locals or just go sit in the park and watch what's going on. EVERYTHING is a photo op. To the point that it's annoying. And everyone now is apparently Ansel Adams and has to get THE shot. Sorry but I'm walking through your picture. The Uros Islands are made for these people. Literally. I mentioned fake culture earlier. The Uros, as far as I can tell, is mostly a fabrication of a culture that once existed. Germans and French with $3000 digital SLR cameras love this stuff. The islands are pretty cool and the people do build them. I took a boat out to one of the islands with about 30 people (one of 50 boats going to various islands that day). The first sign of trouble when we arrived was the craft market set up like everywhere else you go in Peru. Hats, necklaces, carved figurines, etc. It reminded me that this is Peru and everything is a sales opportunity. While the Germans and French walked around taking 100s of photos (I took three), I went to talk to a little girl. First, I asked her if she lived there. Confirming my suspicions, she said no. At least she didn't sleep there. Right. Then we started talking about the boats and she asked me if I wanted to know a secret. Well, yes. She took me behind the huts and showed me how they really built the boats. Under a tarp were hundred of plastic water bottles used for the hulls. They didn't tell me that in the brochure. Then, for a charge, some people could ride on one of the "reed" boats. About half the people piled on and the natives serenaded them with "My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean" as they floated away. Appalling. Fake culture at its finest and lots of photos for the Euros with their expensive cameras. We went on to some other regular island on the lake (after our boat caught on fire once) and saw other people pretending to live like they did several hundred years ago. I was over it by then. Back to my cold and dark room in Puno for the night before leaving for Arequipa.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
How to get a bridge named after you in Bolivia
I have skipped over the last part of Peru and need to backtrack but this travel business is a lot of work and I´ve been busy. Anyway...
How to get a bridge named after you in Bolivia
It´s called "Crackhead Bridge." It´s named after a guy. Apparently a crackhead. It´s about a 50 meter (yes, I´m metric now) drop into a rocky crevasse. If you miss the bridge anyway. The bridge is on what is known as "The World´s Most Dangerous Road." It´s the old road built between Bolivia and Peru/Chile. There is a sheer cliff to one side that drops hundreds of feet in places. The last year it was still the only route over the mountains (2006), 100 people died in one bus crash over the side. The new highway is falling apart because they didn´t put in any drainage and they will be back to using this road again at some point but that´s another story. Now they run mountain bike tours down the road. You need to pay attention. You need to be sober. There are a lot of drugs in Bolivia and La Paz is a party town. Apparently this dude thought it would be a good idea to smoke crack all night and then continue smoking crack on his four hour downhill ride. Unfortunately for him, his timing, vision, and judgement were slighlty impaired from all the rock he had been smoking. He missed the bridge and fell 150 feet onto the rocks and broke both legs, both collar bones, several ribs, and many teeth. Then he had the pleasure of lying there for two or three hours waiting to be pulled out. As an added bonus, he had the good fortune of being treated in a fine Bolivian medical facility by a veteranarian/dentist/doctor/tow truck driver. But he did have a bridge named after him. Now we have Crackhead Bridge. Let that be a lesson to all of you crackheads out there. I am hoping that after my trip to Argentina they rename Iguazu Falls "LSD Trip Falls" or "Naked American on Mushrooms Falls" or something. Stay tuned.
How to get a bridge named after you in Bolivia
It´s called "Crackhead Bridge." It´s named after a guy. Apparently a crackhead. It´s about a 50 meter (yes, I´m metric now) drop into a rocky crevasse. If you miss the bridge anyway. The bridge is on what is known as "The World´s Most Dangerous Road." It´s the old road built between Bolivia and Peru/Chile. There is a sheer cliff to one side that drops hundreds of feet in places. The last year it was still the only route over the mountains (2006), 100 people died in one bus crash over the side. The new highway is falling apart because they didn´t put in any drainage and they will be back to using this road again at some point but that´s another story. Now they run mountain bike tours down the road. You need to pay attention. You need to be sober. There are a lot of drugs in Bolivia and La Paz is a party town. Apparently this dude thought it would be a good idea to smoke crack all night and then continue smoking crack on his four hour downhill ride. Unfortunately for him, his timing, vision, and judgement were slighlty impaired from all the rock he had been smoking. He missed the bridge and fell 150 feet onto the rocks and broke both legs, both collar bones, several ribs, and many teeth. Then he had the pleasure of lying there for two or three hours waiting to be pulled out. As an added bonus, he had the good fortune of being treated in a fine Bolivian medical facility by a veteranarian/dentist/doctor/tow truck driver. But he did have a bridge named after him. Now we have Crackhead Bridge. Let that be a lesson to all of you crackheads out there. I am hoping that after my trip to Argentina they rename Iguazu Falls "LSD Trip Falls" or "Naked American on Mushrooms Falls" or something. Stay tuned.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Welcome to Peru
Went a little out of order in bringing myself all the way to Arequipa. There was more to Cusco than just horrible people at my hostal.
For one thing, Cusco itself is one of the most over-touristed places I have been. It seems to exist entirely for the tourist industry, anchored by its proximity to Machu Picchu. The number of tour companies is so overwhelming that it is next to impossible to decide which company to use. Some are much better than others but the whole business is so incestuous that they are all related in some way. It may not have more tourists than other places but the tourists are crammed into the center of the city, more or less. Nobody really owns cars so there are seemingly millions of taxis. The taxis are another story altogether. It's one of those places where you cannot walk ten feet without someone trying to sell you a tour, a trinket, a massage (every two feet), a pack of smokes, drugs, a meal, a sweater, a hat with ear flaps, or a photo with a pet llama. Just about everyone, it seems, is trying to rip you off. I think the people are both jaded by the presence of all the tourists and their perceived (and real) money and simply poor. Everyone is fighting over the same dollar or euro and there are just too many of them doing the same thing and selling the same thing with nothing to differentiate one from the other. I will give them a break there. It's tough to make a living, like everywhere I have been. I'm glad I'm not hawking tours all day on the corner or asking 500 people if they want a massage to get one taker. That being said, I still don't like being seen as a walking wallet. But nobody in that town has any interest in knowing anything about you. Everything is a sales opportunity.
A little story about the sales opportunity. Part of it was a great experience, part of it was a royal rip off. I walked up to the ruins just above town my second day in Cusco. It's a pretty good hike up the stairs above San Blas. San Blas is built into the hillside and is made of winding, steep, stone steps. When I got to the top, this guy with a backpack jumped down from the wall and approached me. Of course I thought he wanted to sell me something or perhaps rob me but he asked me if I had a boleto touristico or tourist ticket to get in. I said no and he explained to me that I could get in free after 5:30. I told him that I was just going to climb the hill to the giant Jesus statue (being the big Jesus freak that I am). He blesses me every day. Oh wait, he's dead. Anyway, the guy introduces himself as Armando and walks with me up the trail to see our boy JC. Cool guy, takes some photos of me and asks me if I wanted to go drink Chicha with him. I agreed and walked down this maze of steep dirt trails (the real Cusco) past the shacks and houses and several vicious dogs that we pelted with rocks until we came to a building with a low roof and a door that we had to duck under to walk through. Seated at long tables along the walls were mostly men 50 and older drinking a yellow liquid with both hands from large glasses. We were in a "Chicharia," or Chicha house. Chicha is liquor made by the Incas that is brewed by women who chew corn, spit it into an urn, ferment it, and add water. These men come and drink Chicha every day for three or four hours. I met several of his uncles and his father and cousins and we drank Chicha for several hours. We walked back to town, I fell down the trail (twice) and I thought it was a really cool, very unique experience. Which it was - I have not met anyone (Peruvian or otherwise) who has ever been to a Chicharia. Armando mentioned to me that they had horses and told me he could take me on a tour for 45 soles, which sounded cheap. I said that I would go the next day. Here comes the rip off/sales opportunity. I showed up to ride the next day and the price was 90 soles (I had to rent his horse, from his cousin, who is his neighbor and owns the horse). Oh, ok. Paid it, wondering if they would actually give me my 10 soles change. The horse was good, the equipment was terrible and I couldn't even put my feet in the stirrups, and most of the ride was on the road. The ride was half as long as it was supposed to be, on a different route than promised, and cost twice as much. We ended up going to the school where his girlfriend was the cook and she made us some delicious trout. The best I have ever had. During this time, his cousin stopped by because he worked for a bike tour company and I had mentioned that I was interested in a bike tour and Armando was telling me that I could live in the apartment above his house for free as long as I wanted. We walked back to my hostal as he and his cousin were both trying to steer me into their offers. His cousin visited me several more times in the coming days. Armando offered me the free place to stay a few more times but I knew it was only because I was a potential source of income. I honestly thought the guy had some good intentions but it was really just the first of many experiences that made me think everyone in Peru wanted my money, whether they obtained it honestly or not. I never got my 10 soles change.
For one thing, Cusco itself is one of the most over-touristed places I have been. It seems to exist entirely for the tourist industry, anchored by its proximity to Machu Picchu. The number of tour companies is so overwhelming that it is next to impossible to decide which company to use. Some are much better than others but the whole business is so incestuous that they are all related in some way. It may not have more tourists than other places but the tourists are crammed into the center of the city, more or less. Nobody really owns cars so there are seemingly millions of taxis. The taxis are another story altogether. It's one of those places where you cannot walk ten feet without someone trying to sell you a tour, a trinket, a massage (every two feet), a pack of smokes, drugs, a meal, a sweater, a hat with ear flaps, or a photo with a pet llama. Just about everyone, it seems, is trying to rip you off. I think the people are both jaded by the presence of all the tourists and their perceived (and real) money and simply poor. Everyone is fighting over the same dollar or euro and there are just too many of them doing the same thing and selling the same thing with nothing to differentiate one from the other. I will give them a break there. It's tough to make a living, like everywhere I have been. I'm glad I'm not hawking tours all day on the corner or asking 500 people if they want a massage to get one taker. That being said, I still don't like being seen as a walking wallet. But nobody in that town has any interest in knowing anything about you. Everything is a sales opportunity.
A little story about the sales opportunity. Part of it was a great experience, part of it was a royal rip off. I walked up to the ruins just above town my second day in Cusco. It's a pretty good hike up the stairs above San Blas. San Blas is built into the hillside and is made of winding, steep, stone steps. When I got to the top, this guy with a backpack jumped down from the wall and approached me. Of course I thought he wanted to sell me something or perhaps rob me but he asked me if I had a boleto touristico or tourist ticket to get in. I said no and he explained to me that I could get in free after 5:30. I told him that I was just going to climb the hill to the giant Jesus statue (being the big Jesus freak that I am). He blesses me every day. Oh wait, he's dead. Anyway, the guy introduces himself as Armando and walks with me up the trail to see our boy JC. Cool guy, takes some photos of me and asks me if I wanted to go drink Chicha with him. I agreed and walked down this maze of steep dirt trails (the real Cusco) past the shacks and houses and several vicious dogs that we pelted with rocks until we came to a building with a low roof and a door that we had to duck under to walk through. Seated at long tables along the walls were mostly men 50 and older drinking a yellow liquid with both hands from large glasses. We were in a "Chicharia," or Chicha house. Chicha is liquor made by the Incas that is brewed by women who chew corn, spit it into an urn, ferment it, and add water. These men come and drink Chicha every day for three or four hours. I met several of his uncles and his father and cousins and we drank Chicha for several hours. We walked back to town, I fell down the trail (twice) and I thought it was a really cool, very unique experience. Which it was - I have not met anyone (Peruvian or otherwise) who has ever been to a Chicharia. Armando mentioned to me that they had horses and told me he could take me on a tour for 45 soles, which sounded cheap. I said that I would go the next day. Here comes the rip off/sales opportunity. I showed up to ride the next day and the price was 90 soles (I had to rent his horse, from his cousin, who is his neighbor and owns the horse). Oh, ok. Paid it, wondering if they would actually give me my 10 soles change. The horse was good, the equipment was terrible and I couldn't even put my feet in the stirrups, and most of the ride was on the road. The ride was half as long as it was supposed to be, on a different route than promised, and cost twice as much. We ended up going to the school where his girlfriend was the cook and she made us some delicious trout. The best I have ever had. During this time, his cousin stopped by because he worked for a bike tour company and I had mentioned that I was interested in a bike tour and Armando was telling me that I could live in the apartment above his house for free as long as I wanted. We walked back to my hostal as he and his cousin were both trying to steer me into their offers. His cousin visited me several more times in the coming days. Armando offered me the free place to stay a few more times but I knew it was only because I was a potential source of income. I honestly thought the guy had some good intentions but it was really just the first of many experiences that made me think everyone in Peru wanted my money, whether they obtained it honestly or not. I never got my 10 soles change.
Trying to get caught up on Peru and need to keep posting in parts. It´s part laziness, part disorganization, part sketchy internet access, part being sick twice, and part just being busy traveling and doing what goes along with that.
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