Valparaiso, Chile

Valle Paraíso (Paradise Valley) is found in central Chile along the coast. It is a deemed the most colorful city in the world and I quickly fell in love.  The port city is built on a series of rolling hills ignited with brilliant colored houses and artistically painted graffiti murals.  The streets tangle within themselves, the stray dogs own the streets, and the sky is fragmented with wires crisscrossing above every corner.  Inspiring and chaotic, Alex and I adore this stop on out travels.  We spend the days buying art and dreaming of the creative projects we wish to be woven into our lives at home.

Do not let Chile make you cry.

I have arrived to Santiago airport and tears fall hopelessly as I sit and wait for Alex.  She will arrive in a few hours, just on different flights today, traveling from Peru to Chile.  I have been dragged from window to window with nothing but the absence of communication and understanding.  No one speaks English, and I did not learn Spanish on the flight over.  It is late and I am tired.  There seems to be no empathy for this foreign blondie.  To enter Chile, people from the US must pay $131 crisp, non-ripped US bills.  This I knew, and was prepared for, but not with exact change...

I follow the rest of my plane to the "The Police" window to get a visa stamp on the passport.  After waiting until they make it to the end of the line,  I am told to go pay the tax first.  I walk over to where the finger pointed me.  The man tells me $131, so I hand him two hundreds.  He shrugs as he speaks.  I can tell he has no change but he pulls the empty drawer out to prove his side of the situation. I shrug, for I have no change either, nor an idea what to do next.  He shrugs, showing empty hands.  Neither of us can do anything to fix this current situation.  If anyone knows what to do next it would be him, so I continue to stand.

He points me across the large room, "The Police."  I walk through the empty maze to get up to a window.   The woman is shocked that I walked straight up to a window, and cockily spits Spanish at me to wait to be called.  I recede to the appropriate red line, waiting to be called by one of  the five free windows....
I watch two of them read newspapers, while others putz around with their pens or tap at their computers...
Oh- one is ready for me; he calls me over with a wave.  I show them my passport and the $200 and they point me to the Tax counter.  I try to use sign language to explain I have been there and they try to use Spanish (a little louder) to explain that I need to go there.  Finally, I get a police officer to go with me.  I follow her over there, they talk, and have come up with some sort of plan.  She brings me through the red line and down the hall to an Exchange counter.  He exchanges my hundred for 200,000 pesos, but I need US bills ETC ETC ETC! Back and forth, back and forth.  It really helped pass the time while waiting for Alex, but it was semi telling of how difficult the next few weeks will be.

I guess it was all foreshadowed a few hours back, when I shuffled down the narrow airplane aisle to find from my seat to the back of the plane taped off with some type of blue "caution" tape.  After watching the flight attendant calm down a few very upset clients, I asked what was happening.  She did not know much English, but I understood "not safe in emergency."

I finally get the money and stamp I need.  I follow the signs to baggage. 
From down the hall, I can see all the carousels have stopped.  Up and down the long room, I look for a clue.  The International Airport of Chile is a ghost town.  I find two men at a small desk at the end of the room who have my backpack and my heart rate returns to normalcy.  Next, I go through a routine livestock and vegetable check...

Everything is just a little more difficult for me today, and the tears I was choking back came loose. I sit by the exit, cold air is blowing through the doors, I pull the scarf up over my head a have a good cry :)
I wait, feeling defeated.  The tears are not of stress nor sadness nor anger.  The just fall easily for I am tired.  I take a few moments to wish I was somewhere else, somewhere easy- California, Florida, me bed.  I don't want an adventure anymore!  I want warmth and comfort! 
Back to the breath. and stop crying!


I take off the sandals and reach for the boots, I grab the down jacket out of the top of my bag.  I start to get comfortable, another hour for Alex and then four more until the bus station opens.  The man two seats down scoots over.  He monologues in Spanish for a few moments until I explain "lo seinto, no entiendo. no hable español."  Ah," mucho frio."
"si, mucho frio" (I mean, it really is chilly folks!)
His only English is the word beautiful.  
"Ahhhh, Peru. es bonita. Tu es bonita. Chile es bonita. La playa es bonita. Miaimi es bonita. Les mountain es bonita. Es Wyoming bonita? Tu es muy bonita."
I stumble through some spanish too, "me amiga arrive (sometimes I throw in a french verb hoping the romantic languages are transferable) en una ahora, no taxi necessito (hes a cab driver and I fear he is wasting his time on me!) le bus a Valparaiso..."
At first I feared he was in some ploy to steal my things, but he is genuine. And making my day :)
We have exhausted our knowledge of each others language with in about 30 seconds, but we keep trying for the next hour.
Alex arrives and we are both in good spirits as we find a spot to sit for the next four hours, a little spot to eat and drink tea. 
"It's 4:20 a.m. do you know where your head's at?" The Soul Coughing lyrics repeat in my head after noting the time.  One hour until we begin to inquire about the shuttle to the bus terminal.  Where is my head?!  It feels dry at this hour.
Alex takes a turn to the bathroom as the man sitting behind me asks me to watch his bag.  I say yes, not sure why. I feel nervous the whole time he is gone, but this is how we meet Maurice (or Morris?).  The man who gets us safely to the bus by 6, heading west for Valparaisa!

Machupicchu

Machupicchu "old mountain" and Wynapicchu "new mountain" craddle the site of "The Lost City" of the Inkas.  Standing strong on a remote mountaintop, it is the most interesting and spectular thing I have ever seen.

The forest grows quickly here, even in these high elevations.  When the American archaeologist Hiram Bingham was guided to the site by a local boy in 1911, it was completely covered by dense foliage.

The Incan Enpire was strong from the 12th century to the early 15th.  They were a rich civilization, brilliantly connected to mother earth.  Their gods were the elements- the sun (fire), water, air, earth, etc.  They were forever grateful for their surroundings and were so in-tuned with nature that they healed ailments with local plants and oriented structures in regards to the rising sun and the stars.  Cusco was the center of the commerce and government aspects of the civilization, Machupicchu was their temple.

Incan history was never documented so it is deeply steeped in mystery and myth.  All we have to tell their story are their buildings which have seemed to hold the test of time.  Built on the slopes of the highlands, stone steps lead up to this stone fortress.  Terraced platforms ascend the entire mountain, which held various crops, depending on the elevation.  The Lost City has stone houses and temples.  The stone work is impeccable.  The rock quarry above the city was were they received the resource.  Using rock hammers, wood, and water they sliced giant rocks into a little less than giant bricks.  These bricks were rubbed perfectly smooth by smaller rocks by dedicated community members.  It is said their was no slavery, but a tax system which afforded all this labor.

It is easy to imagine them at work.  As I walk around the grounds I can almost see the Incans living life.  Shaman mixing their medicines in stone bowls, women rubbing small stones against the giant ones, men creating mortor and lining the stones as perfect puzzle pieces, scientists discussing constelations, etc.
The energetic vibration of this land is high, the connection to the earth can still be felt by its visitors!
"They built this place not for this life, but the next." Javiar explains to us.  I offer the idea that they are in and living again as the animals, the roaming lamas and condors.  He suggests that they are here, living again in each of us.

Javiar tells their story with the same passion the Inkas built their structures.  Dedicated strength (represented by the puma), universal wisdom (the snake), and a connection to the elevated divine (the condor).  Thankful to be reminded again, of the truths I desire to acknowledge in my daily life.

namaste!

a few of the crew... :)

1. The whole crew.
2. The Brits dwarfing Alex and me.
3. Our meal tent that would be set up (tablecloth and all) by the time we arrived!
4. History lesson from Javiar.
5. Thomas, the horse man.
6. "Poppy," the everything else man!
7. Jump if you like Peru :)
8. Passing a potato farmer.
9. Incan warriores!
10. Dude carrying sticks.
11. Womans house we stayed at final night.
12. Dish duck?
13. Poppy serving us the traditional first course of soup (chef made 8         different veg soups on the trip, every lunch and dinner started with soup!)

Salkantay Trek- princess in the mountains!

I love sleeping next to a rushing river.  The sound is magical.  The power and strength of the water can not be denied as it cuts through the earth, yet somehow creates a peaceful sound and a graceful site.  Watching and listening to this act of natural beauty reminds me that this is the way I want to live.  Keeping stability and hardiness by grounding through the earth, nevertheless, eliciting a balanced overall loveliness!

This river is being fed by the too quickly melting glacier on Salkantay Mountain.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Salcantay
Our camp-site is in a valley sitting at 4,200 meters (12,600 feet- only 1,000 feet lower than the Grant Teton.)  Alex and I are bundled in our tents, we have just been fed Anise tea and afternoon snacks of popcorn and cookies.  Today has been an amazing 12 km (7 miles) hike through the Peruvian mountain "roads."  We have been passing through high altitude villages, being passed by trains of donkeys hauling heavy loads, watching stray pigs wander, and imagining the life of those who live in the withdrawn farm houses.

Velvet green mountains lift on either side of us, with a glorious snow-filled rock peak in the horizon were the valley ends.  The rain held out all day, until now.  It drowns the sound of the river.  I can barely write because the last two days have been so long and physically exhausting... the weight of the rain drags me towards suspension of consciousness.
                                                                  -Journal, Day 2


I find myself laying on the soft grass in a local farmer's field- sharing the land with sheep, horses, and roosters in Peru!  A light breeze blows and cools the sun warmed skin.  Siesta time for the paying hiking group as the porters, the horsemen, and the chefs tear down the lunch site.  That's right.  Never have I been a treated like such a princess in the mountains! (note- hell if this girl hired a porter! Alex and I carried our own gear!)
But, seriously, we arrive to already set up camp-sites (5 tents for sleeping, two for eating/cooking, a standing port-a-potty tent and a several course traditional Peruvian meal- with a special dish for this vegetarian!) Also we have set lunch-sites (fully equipt with a long table and 9 chairs inside a large tent to shield us from the intense sun!)  Full on princess treatment!

I accept the treatment (the price of the trip included first born child) and enjoy a very different style of camping.  The hiking aspect is very demanding; I swear I have done this a time or two before, but I am worked after each day!  Waking at 5 a.m. and arriving at camp 12 hours later puts some cramps in the calves and blisters on the toes.

Today I witnessed am awe-inspiring glacial lake at 4,600 meters, higher than I have ever been before.  The Salkantay Glacier is where the Inca people buried most of their 12-year-old virgin sacrifices in a fetal position (to represent their thankfulness of the fertility of the land) with an abundance of gold.  I mean a little extreme, but... how often we forget to give thanks.  Gratitude for this simple gifts of the earth.
                                                                -Journal, Day 3


Dogs howl and roosters doodle their doo at about 4:30 a.m.  I try to sleep for the next half hour until Poppy comes "Beunos Dias" offering our morning coca tea and bowls of hot water to wash our faces.  It is the best way to be seduced out of bed!  Breakfast is nothing shy of amazing, omelettes, quinoa porridge, toast, fruit, coffee, etc.  Safetylaws are a bit different here in Peru compared to those in the US... we hike over freshly slid landslides and on thin trails were one twit of the ankle of few inches to the right of the trail and BAM- "rafting" as Javiar our guide would say.  The river is half a mile to a mile down a straight canyon wall.  Death.

Destruction is happening all around these parts as Peru tries to encourage tourism by building roads, the mountains fight back by falling apart right on top of these new developments.  Machu Picchu has just reopened five days prior;Closed do to catastrophic landslides after unheard of amounts of rainfall.  As humans, we just don't always listen.

Favorite part of the day= playing soccer with most the children from the small town in which we are sleeping in tonight watching or playing .  Our camp is set up in a family's backyard with several other hiking groups at the next door neighbors houses.  My soccer team included 4 Peruvian guides, 2 Frenchies and UK Chris from my group, and me against eleven 8-12 year olds.  And they are good!  High altitude and Andes as a backdrop made this an unforgetable memory. Two games and we both won one, so we bought all the kids coke!  Tomorrow we hit up Machu Picchu... I think it's going to be pretty cool.
                                                                      
                                                                         -Journal, Day 4

Qosq'o

Cusco is charming.  Well, I guess I stayed in the glamorus and inviting (tourist) area of this growing city.  It once was the heart of the ancient Inca Empire.  Qosq'o (naval of the earth) is how it was pronounced by the Quechuan people (Inca was the king, Quechua were the people of the Incan Empire.)  The Spanish didn't bother attempting the true pronunciation of the civilization that they were busy slaughtering.  Hence, we all say Cusco.

Sitting at 9,300 feet, surrounded by lush rolling hills it is easy to understand why the location choice was made 900 years ago.  Upon exiting the plane, I see a full blown old school nun and, well, I take it as another sign :)

The sun is bright and with one day on the itinerary in Cusco proper, I get serious- and start shopping (someone has to support all the local  artisans work.  Knitted alpaca gear, brightly colored prints, heavily textured paintings, eccentric jewelry, woven textiles, etc are sitting on tables set up every ten feet.  A small market in the center plaza is crammed with vendors who, somehow, fit their whole family AND all their goods in a 6x4 foot space.  This same market sells all sorts of eatable "goodies" that would make anyone but the true Peruvian very very sick.

I focus on the alpaca knit theme personally, with the addition of a few painted cards and two pairs of earrings (purely as a business investment, total tax write off- teehee- oops. no tax jokes in the middle of April, sorry dad!)  Alpaca, I learn later, only are shaved for their wool every 3 years, and with a pair of hand knit mittens going at the rate of approx. $5... I have strong doubts on the purity of the wool!  Fortunately, I bought them purely because they are really really cute. 

The town has a collision of drastically different architectural styles.  The ancient stone walls and cobblestone streets that were hand built during the Incan Empire rests underneath the conquest of Spanish colonial-style cathedrals and multi-story buildings.  A strong dichotomy is also prevalent in the people who are filling all the narrow alleyways and wide central streets.  The ancient mysticism is what is bringing so many tourists to the Sacred Valley and tourism is what is bringing so many mountain farmers out of their fields and into the bartering world.  You will see everythings from gaggles of European girls in cute outfits, to hippies juggling bean bags, to women in traditional garb next to their llama (requesting money in exchange for photos.)  It is quite the eccentric sight, although over all a very positive place.

Our meeting is at 7 p.m.  My eye lids are heavy, but lighten up as Javier begins to explain the next five days to the eight of us in the room.  His English is perfect.  His passion is prevalent.  And no much excites me more than the idea of spending the next handful of days in the Peruvian Andes.  Cheers for the adventures to come :)

cio

p.s.- still trying to add photos... proving difficult, but will happen soon!

Wawho Peru!

Although Alex and I both have snowpants for this section of the journey, I arrived to sunshine and 70 degrees in Cusco, Peru this morning... wow, that was just this morning.  I head out on a five-day treck tomorrow on a guided adventure through the high mountains and a dense jungle with the final destination of Machu Picchu!  Such a fortunate girl I am, it is all very exciting- or is that just the coca leaf tea I am currently drinking in a room full of conversation that I can not understand.  The day has been perfect- so much so that the 20+ hours of airports and planes quickly faded from my memory (usually a steel trap up there!)

Airport hopping always seems to have its frustrations: First leg, seat 32E taught me the lesson that upon checking in, always see if there is a more desirable seat available.  The mothball family was unavoidable, but the so-far-back-seats-don't-recline seat may have been prevented.

Second leg was the typical ¨crying baby flight.¨ Everyone has experiemced one of those!  For someone who loves children so much I have a very hard time admitting my thoughts of... taking that baby and throwing it right off that airplane!
Third leg was like a dream.  I slept the entire 6 hours.
Fourth leg (that's right- lotta legs on this one) started in Lima, Peru.  Lima was warm :)  My wool socks and down jacket choice seemed to enhance my panic as I scanned every sign and each human for a gentle nod in the right direction.  Overall, my foreign country airport experience was drama and intensity free, they don´t even make you take your shoes off when you walk through the metal detectors (that seems like reason enough to visit Peru for me.)  The man who checked my boarding passes told me ¨I speaks English more or less.¨ Definately on the ¨less¨side, for that was about as extent of our conversation.

I have already learned to keep to the universal language of the smile.  If you begin an interaction with ¨Holla, como estas?¨then they REPLY in that language!  Whoa, I can handle a ¨bein, es tu?¨but the response thus far has been more of an explosion of beautiful sounds that I do not understand.

The flight from Lima to Cusco was a painless hour of drifting in and out of sleep.  As we started to descend, spectacular mountains were framed through the little air plane windows  A sunny day and brilliant landscape felt like a great omen.  Everyone must have felt that way because as the plane rattles to a smooth landing the passengers all began to applaud!  The woman behind me says ¨buena!¨

I have many things to say about Cusco.  I have an outlandish amount of photos from my first day.  But I am exhausted and it is getting late.  I leave tomorrow at 5 a.m. for my hike, which is said to be a very hard hike.  I have a had a long last few days so I finish this entry with a ¨be back in five!¨
sorry about the horrible spelling and grammar, had to do this quickly!
lovelovelove

http://www.pariwana-hostel.com/pariwana-hostel-cusco.php