I won't be one of those recommending...

This is my favorite church in South America so far (Salta, Argentina), actualy it's a cathedral- and it must be everyones favorite because it was packed for all the masses- not that I went to all of them, but they have like 8 masses on Sundays and it was like church at Christmas, people standing in the isles and outside the doors.
Here is an example of a typical Bolivian women and the way she dresses. This girl is only 15 years old and 100lbs, but you could never tell, could you? Check out the fancy gold shoes, the skirt, shall, sweater, and extra blanket for the kid.
Here you can see yet another example of Bolivian womens dressing style. The hat, the shall, the full skirt- this is in La Paz, some sort of demonstration about something or another.
Here is a little 5 month old beautiful Bolivian bundle hanging out in the usual comfortable spot when not on the mothers back. You can find these bundles almost anywhere- in a shop (like this one) one the streets, under tables, in boxes...

now for my entry:
Almost immediately I was disappointed, I had to get out as soon as possible. The taxi driver took me to the wrong hotel… a really, really expensive hotel “no sir, it’s not Sucre Hotel, it’s HI Sucre Hostal- the place I repeated to you 6 times to make sure you got it right- please take me to the cheap hostal. And by the way, I won’t be paying you more money for YOUR mistake.” Well, he didn’t oblige and assured me that another hostal around the corner was much better. OK man, just let me out of your ugly, smelly taxi.
Sucre was much lacking in the restaurant department, come to think of it, it was just plain lacking. For being a capital of a country it was completely unimpressive, all 35,000 people. Bolivians seem to love it and consider it their most beautiful city- the white city, with mostly white buildings, but it was laughable for a capital, I much preferred La Paz. After my breakfast of scrambled eggs (my least favorite egg preparation) with fatty bacon and rock hard toast I decided to check out what times the buses left to a different city. Souvenirs were doubly expensive compared to La Paz (a great city) and I decided that I would have a taxi driver drop me off at a good restaurant for lunch- just something simple, a sandwich or soup. He left me on a street that “was packed with restaurants” and I walked up it and down another finding exactly 3 restaurants, all with a set lunch of chicken, rice, fries and salad. I ended up at the same restaurant I ate breakfast at and got the next bus out of town. I spent exactly 6 hours in Sucre, it was 6 hours too long.
The bus would take me to Potosi (truly an asshole town) and I would get an overnight bus to arrive at Villazon, a border town with Argentina, in the early morning. I was skipping the salt flats- probably a mistake, but I was ready to get out of Bolivia. I realized on the first bus that in my rush to get out of Sucre I left behind my newly purchased, never used, charging batter charger in the hostal that I never slept in. AHHH!!! What a joke! And the worst hadn’t yet come. I was inside the office of the bus line purchasing my ticket and someone managed to grab my money, and more importantly my bank card and brand new coin purse. Fabulous, so now I had exactly 60 bolivianos (~$7) the change from my 100 note and no card to access any money from ATMs. Sure, the police tried to help me and slowly asked one guy to come to their office so they could search him. But for all I know about Bolivia the police could’ve taken my stuff, or the office personel… or any number of crappy people hanging around the ticket office. I went outside and started bawling. What was I going to do in the middle of South America with no money and no access to money? I was going to get the f*%#!k out of Bolivia, that’s what I was going to do. I already had my ticket and I got to the border town around 7am. Of course it was Saturday and the Villazon banks that were open didn’t accept the Visa logo. I had 15 Colombian pesos ($6) that no one would change and luckily remembered that my favorite sister, Pam, slipped $20 into a prayer book she sent me months back. YESSS! I changed that over and got myself into Argentina. I’ve never been so happy to leave a country. I filled a water bottle with fresh OJ, bought a few packs of energy filled peanuts, got a large bread and 3 slices of cheese, and slid down some freshly grease-boiled empanadas before my bus left. I had to ration my food for the day- all of it came to a whopping $1.30. I was doing good.
Once on the Argentinian side, I could tell everything would be better. The buses didn’t have families cramped in the isles with their evil cats, they didn’t have an odor of wet molding alfalfa, digested corn farts, rotten non-brushed teeth, and stinky, stinky B.O. Instead the seats were filled only to capacity and the smells were pleasant with air fresheners…the people didn’t have animals with them, in their place they had flowers, yes flowers! The landscape was nice and I even got through a book I had been thinking about reading since Prague.
On the bus to Salta, Argentina I had a front row seat on the top decker- a great view coming into the city and once off the bus I was greated by a fine looking fellow who said he had a free taxi waiting for me to go to a cheap hostal near the center—say no more my man, I’m in! Turns out this hostal is just the ticket!!!! It’s run by 4 Argentinian guys all my age, I have kitchen access, internet, and a living room with comfy bean bags. I went right away to the grocery store for some water and other cheap eats. Since it was right around the corner I didn’t bother to brush my teeth first. Of course I saw 6 of Argentina’s finest in this tiny store- one of which, after searching for just the right apples and dropping some on the ground, helped me pick them up. Too bad I couldn’t look him in the face when I spoke to him. Today (I like to be modest, but I can’t help it) I made the most fantastic pasta- complete with spinach, peppers, tomato, and the best beef on the planet- I will eating that $4 monster helping of pasta for days to come. Fortunately I put plenty of garlic and onion so the guys keep their distance- I can’t get too attached to this place
Tomorrow I hope to get some help from the bank here so I can call and talk to my birthday brother Mark. Happy belated birthday to you brother and cousin Gina too! Have a scary Halloween everyone and to my nephews and nieces- make sure you brush your teeth before you go to bed :)

Bolivia

These people are poor. You can see, feel, touch and taste the culture anywhere you go. Going from Copacabana to La Paz I looked out the window at any given moment and saw a mixture of sheep, donkeys, pigs, chickens, cows along the roads tied to the ground, that’s right, the ground. I don’t know how they do it, but somehow these animals stay put. A little farther out I watched men and women tending their crops atop high mountain stretches, plowing their fields with the help of the animals, hoeing their produce and keeping busy in the hot sun. Because clothes lines must be limited, clothes were scattered everywhere on the ground to dry. Every now and then there was a sleeping man or child sprawled out on the landscape rope in hand attached to the grazing cow.

The way the women dress make them look 250 lbs. more than what they actually weigh. The skirts are flamboyantly decorated and 10x too full. They carry their kids on their backs in a brightly colored Bolivian wraps, this is tied around their shoulders and neck. Some of these kids are not that small, sometimes you can see long legs hanging out the sides. If no child is in wraps, the women carry loads of cargo- anything you can imagine; breads, items they may have made for selling, harvested corn from the fields, baby alpacas (cousin to the llama), cereals, straw, anything- and it really is a huge load, even I could curl up and fit in the size of these wrapped up blankets on these women’s backs. It’s funny to see the women and men walking together because the women have all the cargo and the kids and the men walk beside them empty handed- and looking relatively skinny next to these brick house women in their full skirts. They wear sweaters and shalls over the sweaters with I think probably another kid or more cargo under their tops. Men and women alike all wear hats- hats of any kind. Women have top hats that are too small sitting high above their head and the shoes they wear are really small, shiny, I guess similar to Dorothy’s red ones on the wizard of oz, they look terribly uncomfortable. The littlest of girls are spared this dress code, but once you are about 10- you have the complete garb and are made to look like you are 60 and 200 lbs. heavier. I am misled time and time again before encountering these ladies, and after chatting and staring at their face for a while figure out that these are little girls made to look like Grandmas.

I walked the busy antfarm-like streets of La Paz when I first arrived and found myself a chorizo sandwich, mmmmmm. Strolling through the vendors I bought superglue from the superglue man for my shoes that I bought in Lima a week ago that are now falling apart. (sidenote: I started this South American trip with 1 pair of tennis shoes and 9 pair of flip-flops, of my original 10, only one pair of bright teal blue flip-flops remain) I think I may buy some necessities or just plain “wants” here in La Paz because of its super duper prices. Prices fool me here though. I went to find a creamy soup last night and the restaurant I was recommended to had soup for 22 bolivianos. 22 bolivianos! I said, for soup? You gotta be kidding me. 22 bolivianos is a little less than $3. I knew I could get it for 8 or 9 in a place that didn’t cater to tourists. Those are the places you have to seek out if you want the best of the best- flavor and prices. So I found a restaurant ½ a block up with locals and decided this was the place. I got my cream of asparagus soup and mate de coca for 10 bolivianos, that’s about $1.10, and that’s what I’m talking about! I managed to walk the entire city yesterday in search of a cable for my camera with no avail. I must have entered 50+ electronic markets and stores that sold USB cables, but none that fit my new camera. In the end I purchased a card reader because the city had not what I was looking for. I was capable of getting myself a free lunch though. One of the computer guys started chatting me up and he invited me to lunch…. HA! Nothing like a $2, 4 course lunch for free… and that’s not all, he paid for all the taxis (cause he wasn’t a walker) and showed me the south of the city, the well-to-do neighborhoods with colorful mountains and landscapes. In the end he too, asked me if I had a boyfriend and if I planned on marrying someday. I had to lie to avoid an uncomfortable situation, but he still asked me to a movie. What can I say, I can’t pass up a free lunch- not on my budget!

Left is Cameron with his car before it got stolen.
Right is sandboarding in Huacachina, Peru... fabulous


landscape from Lima















Here is it... Machu Picchu baby!!!! I ate lunch from this spot, a spectacular setting for canned tuna, fresh bread and peach nectar

Here I am ( I have to make my pictures big!) in the middle of the Incan city
Left is a slide on the top of Cusco that I ever so carefully went down for fear of the muddy puddle at the bottom.
Right are my 2 Cusco guides for the day, they took me atop the mountains of Cusco and showed me everything. Here they are in what used to be the women´s bath.

Left is a typical Peruvian woman posing with her alpacas, kind of a crappy dark shot, it was about to storm.
Right is Lake Titicaca, the mountains in the backround are in Peru.


Left is a Bolivian lady without any load on her back, instead she is toting around dead chickens and cow parts to sell. No, it´s not refrigerated.
Right is a street market for fluffy corn pops in Copacabana. Streets are concentrated so that all of one thing is on one street, plenty of competition.
Below left is a vendor in La Paz, they are selling baby alpaca (cousin to the llama) carcasses- it´s supposed to bring good luck. It felt a little strange walking down dead baby alpaca street though.

Copacabana

I couldn´t stop singing the song when I was on my way there... da da da Copa.. copa cabana. .. da da dada da ribbons in her hair..dadada..... in the copa.. copa caBANa... ( ok, so I really don´t know the song)
My time waiting in Cusco proved to be rather enjoyable. I coaxed 2 locals into showing me the city... for 6 hours. hehehe. It was great, we went to the top of the city to Saqsaywaman (pronounced sexywoman) got a great view of the city, saw some fantastic ruins, went through a tunnel (scary), saw a movie at a movie bar, and just had tons of fun at no cost- definately a perk of seeking out locals as friends for the day, they can talk their way out of any tourist fee.
Copacabana was cool, but I stayed at the worst place in town. La Refugio was the name- don´t stay there. They weren´t going to let me shower after my 9 hour bus ride because ¨the water in town was off after 11am¨ Well, I managed to find the water. Later I went to listen to some live music at a cafe and all the power in the city went out- they played in the candlelight, it was a joy. I went back to my hostal in the oh so dark streets. Seriously pitch black, I wasn´t sure which hostal was mine. All the doors were blocked with aluminum gates because of the blackout. I had to pound on the aluminum for 20 minutes when the neighbor came to my rescue, it was 1030pm. The next morning when I asked for the key to the shower my hostal guys told me that I showered yesterday and that was my quota and told me that I was a bad guest coming in late at night and not tipping them and now I wanted to shower AGAIN. I would have to pay extra if I wanted another shower.The walked away. Fine, I´ll pay your stinkin $0.40 extra cents to wash myself, but there´s no reason to call my a ¨mal cliente¨ you shouldn´t have locked everything up and went to sleep when you knew I was out listening to music- I was their only guest that night. So, not appreciating being called names, I proceeded to poop on their pillows and superglue snotted up tissues to the ceiling. Now, I deserve the name.

gringolandia

Yesterday I went to Machu Picchu. It was spectacular, far too many tourists and much too much money but incredibly impressive to say the least. I have some fabulous photos but silly me when getting my new camera in Polvos Azules in Lima told the guy that I didn´t need a cable hookup because I already had one, now I find out the one I have doesn´t work. Oooops.
I ate lunch looking down onto the ancient Incan empire from above. It was awesome. AWESOME. Although I had some moments where I thought I was going to trample all the tourists (I strongly dislike tourists) and the stupid tour groups. I made it though without pushing anyone down the mountain. Speaking of which, these mountains were the most magnificent mountains I have ever seen- absolutely massive. Bigger than anything I could ever imagine. I loved them and would never, ever want to wander off getting lost in them. I didn´t do the Inca Trail for a few reasons- none of them that solid- 1) I wasn´t feeling 100% 2) I wasn´t about to pay hundreds of $ to hike for 4 days 3) I´m not equipped with camping or hiking gear 4) I definately would´ve wandered off the trail 5) I decided in Caracas- there will be no more wandering in mountains alone. Perhaps next time, if the opportunity presents its self, I will do it with a loved one :)
Instead, quick, cheap, and easy- thats was my preference this time around. I was able to see some children practicing a peruvian dance, for free- super cool! and wandering around Ollantaytambo I climbed yet more ruins, reminisced about Venezuela while watching a local Friday night dance hearing some of my favorite tunes, and carved one of my brothers names into a nearby mountain for everyone to see for miles and miles. Among the craziness of foreigners I felt at home chatting on a park bench with a older couple from Eau Claire. I got some insight from an Argentinian lady on where to go in her country.. and from the sounds of her, Argentina is also a land of swallowed S´s.
Back in Cusco I decided to try out the nightlife and quite enjoyed myself. I went out with a fellow hostal stayer from San Antonio/Seattle and met up with my hostal friends from Huacachina just a few days back and some wonderful Norwegian girls who convinced me that Norway should be my next journey. I agree, but realistically it will have to wait for me until I am rich and can afford that part of the world.
As for now, I am off to Bolivia. By Monday morning I should be enjoying the city of Copacabana and Lake Titicaca in all its splendor, it´s beautifully cheap, cheap splendor.

presea vale presea

WARNING: some of the following events are not true… no questions please

I’m not much for all out partying anymore, but last Friday I felt it was time to let loose. After traveling for a few months and not “knowing” anyone- Piero’s birthday was the perfect chance to take advantage of all you can drink drinks until 2am and celebrate good times. I met with Cameron, a much too much chemically charged gringo, and shortly after 2am found myself in a cop car on the way to the police station. Seems like a well lit park outside the club wasn’t the best place for us to open secret pockets and unroll magazine articles- for the police immediately grabbed and threw us into the car, cruising off to the police station before we could bribe them. Along with the cocaine, crack, marijuana, speed, and heroine they pulled from my purse, they managed to take most of my money and my camera while I was in the bathroom getting rid of the worms from the ice I had collected at the bar. Cameron, however, made away with his hidden stash of over the counter pharmacy pills. I successfully brought down Piero’s party at the bar with a call from the police to his cell phone. He of course was clueless as to what had happened and rushed over thinking that I had been kidnapped and raped. After paying my bail to get me out from behind bars he and his girlfriend kindly took me back to his parents home with 3 obnoxious barking dogs that alerted the entire family that we had arrived at 6am. Later that morning I made a great 2nd impression with his parents running down the stairs, through the living room, bedrooms, and kitchen time and time again with a full mouth and hands of whatever decided to ruin my stomach the night before. Shamefully, I got my things together and moved into a hostal as soon as I could stomach moving that far. Cameron and I met on Sunday to roam the city for his car. Positive he had parked it only blocks away from the bar, now all he had were his keys- the car had mysteriously disappeared. I took my stolen camera opportunity to upgrade at a nearby market, while Cameron… -well its not nearly as easy to upgrade that sort of car.
So, after dropping far too much money in Lima and being incredibly sick 94% of the time I was there decorating monuments, sidewalks, and taxis, I can honestly say that I liked it. It is a great city, with far too many women (7-1 ratio) and much too cold during this part of the year, but it had good flavor, spirit and well, I can’t explain it, but Lima was good. J
Monday I headed to Ica, where I just so happened to stumble upon a festival held the 3rd Monday of October each year- Senor de Luren. I, with a couple of Israelis, a Swede, an Aussie and a whole lot of Peruanos, was able to enjoy a lengthy procession of thousands of people stampeding through the streets of Ica, starting at 7pm and ending at noon the following day. I stayed in nearby Huacachina where the claim to fame is sandboarding. Huacachina, a town of 27 people, attracts many tourists year round for its fabulous bright, sunny skies and surrounding mountainous sand dunes. Although I’ve never snowboarded before I found sandboarding quite fun and I’m proud to say that I got the hang of it rather quickly. I’m happy to report that my color returned with a couple sun-filled days at the pool and I even landed myself a massage by one of the workers. It was only relaxing for about the first 2 minutes though, he said it was a special Peruvian massage but I abruptly ended his “specialty” when the masseuse unzipped and pulled down his pants.
I felt much better after meeting another traveler…just 3 weeks ago she had all of her things stolen from a hostal in Africa, and after replacing her passport, camera, clothes, bank card… everything- last week, on a tour boat in the Galapagos Islands, her boat sank. She only has the clothes which she jumped off the boat and swam to safety in. Now this girl’s back at square 1. That story sure beats sickness, crappy bus rides and a stolen camera. Glad to be wearing my shoes at the moment.
Now, I’m in Cusco after a 15 hour ride on an “Imperial Service” bus- which did nothing for comfort because the roads are so incredibly steep and windy that the whole time my body was shifting between me and the guy next to me. I did get to travel with a couple Israelis though and the entire bus even played speed bingo, which will do wonders for learning Spanish numbers. I cooked for myself for the first time in months here in Cusco- that made me super happy, walked the city just a bit, for my head is starting to fill up with congestion. I was told that Cusco is brilliant for nightlife, but it rained last night and was terribly cold. I am saving myself for my journey to Machu Picchu tomorrow. I leave in a couple hours to head in that direction.
If I make it out of Peru without getting all my things stolen I shall move on to Bolivia. Not exactly part of my master plan, but with all the fantastic things I’ve heard about that country since I’ve been in South America, I don’t want to regret not going- and I think I would if I didn’t. I still plan to be in Argentina the first week in November..haha… wish me luck!

the shakes

Loving Lima, looooving it! I´ve only been here a matter of hours but managed to get shown an amazing time my first night here courtesy of the Cabrera brothers. We even rang in Piero´s birthday with an earthquake- exactly at midnight. I guess October is the month of many earthquakes in Peru... ha! who knew? Definately not me, that was my first experience with an earthquake. I hope another one comes soon, not a big one of course, but a little shaker. Pisco sours, coca sours, pool playing, dancing, strolling about the streets of Lima and now I´m witnessing a typical guinea pig birthday lunch being made. I tried helping, but I just got to peel the potatoes. The mama and papa got the rest of the kitchen under control- the garlic smashing with a big rock, seasoning the tiny little heart, lungs and head of the cuy, chopping, stirring and putting the loving touches on everything. Soon I will be enjoying their carefully prepared tender bodies and heads.

north coast of Peru

Peru is good. I like it, although it is winter, and with winter comes a chilly breeze off the ocean. Mancora´s beaches were soft and warm offering a great feel for the feet and an array of smoothed rocks to choose from. I enjoyed this surfer beach for 3 days. 3 chicha drinkin, beach strollin, oyster eatin, street walkin, surfer starin days. (chicha is different everywhere- here it´s a purple corn juice that is sweet like fruit...lovely) Huanchaco was next. Yet another surfer beach, but this one with only about 2,000 people. It reminded me of Silver Lake, town of 758. Everyone knew everyone and EVERYONE had a nickname. My second day there and I was waving to half the town like I knew them too, riding on the back of Tiger´s bicycle up and down Main Street. I quickly found my favorite portable pastry shop pacing up and down the beach and I had my strawberries with condensed milk guy too. Although not much sun in Huanchaco, the people kept an incredible atmosphere. Now after all week in two cities, not my planned six-- destination: LIMA.

the 3rd border crossing

I was warned by a fellow travel to stay out of the ¨asshole towns¨on the coast of Peru... well let me tell you a little bit about Ecuador first.
I left Vilcabamba after a fabulous 2 day/3 night stay looking over the valley of longevity- it was amazing there. I decided that a taxi to Loja wasn’t too out of my budget being only $0.20 more than the bus, so I took it. There were 3 women sharing with me, so kindly I offered them the back so they could all sit together… snickering and smirking I got shotgun- YESSS!!!! I get comfortable, put on my seatbelt and the cabbie stops to pick up another, he was going in front with me- great. So I had 4th gear in my thigh 50% of the way there and breathing only through my mouth because neither of the guys in front had brushed their teeth, I’m sure of it. Well it was good because it was cheap and took half the time of the bus. Now, I had some time to kill at the terminal, one thing was for sure- I wasn’t going to eat. I decided that not having yet gotten an Ecuadorian flag, now was the opportune time, and why not take out some dollars since they are worth so much more in other countries. “So… Mr. Taxi Cab Driver, is there a place where I can get a flag that you know of?” Of course! In the center, he replies. Once in the center I ask, so where exactly am I going to find a flag? He hasn’t the slightest clue. Great, thanks for the help buddy. I end up finding one eventually, but ponder out of spite to NOT get one and instead a pair of crummy socks or something from this little country. I got one anyway and hopped the bus to Huaquillas- the border town. It would be a 5 hour journey to the border and another 2 hours to Mancora, the beachtown where I was headed. I asked to be sure if I could get another bus in Huaquillas to Mancora- “Claro” was my response over and over again. The ride was decent, but I kept thinking about weird stuff; selling popcorn on the street when meeting Keanu Reeves, the guy that bought a new car with monopoly money when the Euro came out, making buffalo wings… whatever- anyway, we arrive- not at a terminal, but a garage hole in the wall parking area in the middle of town. I was greeted by a friendly fellow who took it upon himself to help me with whatever I needed. Ok, how much to the border, or first of all- where is the border? He found me a taxi and got in too- weird… ok, and who is the 4th guy? Whatever, they took me to get the stamp and back to the Peruvian immigration point, well almost. The taxi stopped a kilometer shy of the point. Something was strange here. “Taxis can’t go that far” he says. Riiiight. So, he drags my large suitcase and I with the others, we walk though narrow dirt streets with markets, guys are walking past me with baskets of small bird eggs- the real ones, not chocolate. There is a pig being held down squealing its little tail off, one after another of people selling the same crap. A guy approaches me and offers to change money. “no thank you sir” The guy that is helping me says, are you sure? When you get to immigration in Peru they are going to ask you how long you are staying and you will have to show them some soles. If you only have dollars, they are going to see that you have lots of money and may give you trouble. “hmmmm” I think. Ok, I’ll change $10. That’s too little, he says- blah blah blah and something else… ok, $20. Are you sure? If you say you are staying 2 weeks and only have $20 worth of soles, that’s not enough. I tell them to bug off and that I would find an ATM once there. There’s no ATM in Tumbes (Peruvian border town) or Mancora, they say. This for me is quite believable, coming from Vilcabamba where there was in fact NO ATMs. Finally I say ok, $50 worth of soles should get me the bus fare, my stay in Mancora and an onward bus to a city with an ATM. Great. We continue walking. My helper abruptly stops to hand me off to another guy. This one smiles, ready to take me to Peruvian immigration and to the border town. He says 50 soles (~$17) I laugh in his face. He writes on the dirty car window 35 soles, I laugh again and ask where the bus is. He says the ride to Tumbes is 37 kilometers and the last bus leaves at 630. It was 530 now and I still had to do immigration stamping and although 37 kilometers in the US would be about 12 minutes- in South America its 37 minutes. OK, VAMOS!!!! I stamp at the “fast” checkpoint (where the taxis “aren’t allowed to go”) and we’re off. He mentions that he can take me all the way to Mancora. I tell him I want to take the bus because its cheaper- he disagrees. He asks how much I think it will be and I confidently say that it won’t be more than $2. He laughs. Slowly he continues driving, I get pretty frustrated that time is ticking away and he is being passed left and right. I tell him to step it up and he flirts with me, asking me for my ring- a souvenir. He’s lost it and I let him know. 6:17 we arrive in Tumbes, he stops alongside the road to ask if one bus company is going to Mancora- nope. He circles to another, nope again. 6:24 he comes to a different cab that wants $8 for the ride- TAKE ME TO THE TERMINAL!!!!!!!!!!!!! I don’t want a stupid expensive taxi, we’ve already gone over this! He tells me I’m trouble and within seconds we’re at another terminal that doesn’t have a departure until 10:30pm. Finally we get to the right one, it’s 6:28- the bus leaves at 7:30. I hate him and want to punch him in the face. I feel good finally leaving the cab and at this small terminal. I leave my luggage and get a funky motorcycle carriage taxi to a bakery for some snacky breads. When paying I find out 150 of my 162 soles are fake- monopoly money so to speak. I have images of going back to find the guy and doing the same thing that those guys in the street were doing to that pig. I hate him too- and the guy that led me to him… ARRRGGHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Heartbroken, I turn to my carriage moto taxi driver and tell him I also need an ATM. Spilling the story of what just happened to me to anyone who’d listen- and getting a second and third opinions on if they were really fake or not. 730 rolled around, 8pm… 815 and we’re on the road. Someone had fresh fish on the bus, the guy behind me played video games-with sound, the movie played in English but there was no volume to be heard and one guy in front was standing to block about 30% of the viewing public screen- me included, the guy in front of me decided it was a fine time to change his ring tones, the little boys next to me couldn’t stop moving and every few minutes tried staggering up 4 rows to their family to get more food to chomp on. We stopped at one point and everyone got off. I had no idea what was going on and didn’t want to get off, but they told me if I wasn’t pregnant I needed to get off. Within minutes we were all back on and rolling- this time with everyone filling their face. Now it wasn’t only fish smell and B.O. it was also chips, chicken meals, oranges, and the smell of so many mouths being open at once…that’s just gross. Finally Mancora has me- Peru has me. Not that I didn’t like it in Ecuador, I met some amazing people, Guayaquil was nice and the center of the world was real, and Vilcabamba- well that was what I’ll try to remember as Ecuador. But honestly I couldn’t be happier to be out of that God-forbidden country. I didn’t hate it, well- yes I did. And of course I don’t want to dissuade tourism to any given place, so I have to recommend that if you are visiting this part of the world- Go to Colombia.
Ecuador was dry, brown and crusty. It was expensive. The buses sucked. People pretended to be something else. I got food poisoning. I got left behind. I got ripped off- come on! $50 will last me a week!!! The coffee was awful- instant grains mixed with hot milk. And the bakeries were crap, no creativity. Definitely NOT where one of my future homes will be.

putting an end to Ecuador

Swaying in the hammock outside my cabin. I gaze toward the mountain put in front of me and see that the pure white horse has changed positions and is now eating. It had been in one staring position for 3 hours this morning. I ate the most deliciously juicy, flavorful pear minutes ago, the birds are singing for me and the yellow butterflies are dancing with the wind. I can explore the numerous gardens of flowers, but there seem to be a great number of bees buzzing about. The sky is a delightful blue and the clouds have perfect movements to fit the puzzles for the animations in the sky. The temperature out here is perfect, but not for a tan. I biked into town this afternoon, a 2 km coast all the way there. I pedaled lazily around the rocky blocks and made my way to the center square where there is exactly 1 church, 1 bakery, 3 restaurants, 2 shops with groceries, 1 bike repair and parts shop and 2 more with artesian gifts and crafts for the tourist. Loading up on tuna and bread I strolled back slowly, encountering some of the roadflowers who had seen me whiz by an hour before. The taxis here are all trucks, cars even have a hard time making it up the steep hills. I went for a dip after my town journey and boy! I could really tell that I was in the mountains- it was quite refreshing the entire 4 minutes. The horse neighs every once in a while to make me look where he is, but he doesn’t stray far. Ate breakfast at 230 because that’s part of the deal here in Izhcayluma- free breakfast all day. They gave me too much butter, the same as the marmalade- full to the top in a dessert glass. Opened my Spanish book, painted my toes, listened to the bird singing competitions and flapping wings near my private mountainside lounge area, watched 2 movies, played pool- South African style with my roomie for these days, Claudia, gazed into the midnight star-filled sky, sorted out my travel plans for Peru, Chile >>> all the way to Buenos Aires, swayed in the hammocks some more, and took great pleasure in not traveling on a single bus for 2 incredibly full days- this nature thing is really for me.
NOW: I’m off for a full week of bus rides and short stops to make my way to Lima by Friday the 14th. On the way…. Mancora, Chachapoyas, Chiclayo (a maybe), Trujillo & Huanchaco, Huaraz (another maybe) and finally LIMA for Piero’s birthday!!!!

my Montañita

my montañita, originally uploaded by angelaostlie.

got eggs?

guayaquil eggs, originally uploaded by angelaostlie.

this doesn´t exactly capture just how many eggs there really were- the room went back much farther and there were tons of eggs

guayaquil street meat

guayaquil street meat, originally uploaded by angelaostlie.

Guayaquil seafood-barrio

guayaquil barrio, originally uploaded by angelaostlie.

Cuenca day

cuenca, originally uploaded by angelaostlie.

Cuenca at night

cuenca foto exhib, originally uploaded by angelaostlie.

Ecuador in all its splendor

My weekend started fresh in Manta early Friday morning. I walked the streets to see how the markets flow in this city. There were tons of newly picked produce, mostly dead chickens, fishes being gutted, juices being blended, and people eating full meals with rice & meat at 7 in the morning. Rice isn’t my ideal breakfast food, I opted for panela with cheese, which still, having numerous explanations about what panela is, don’t have a clue what I’m eating. Beachtime was null in Manta, I guess I picked the wrong beach- the people’s beach- with the fast flowing sewer water creating the only bit of warmth in the part of the sea I saw. So, I left.
I arrived in Guayaquil Friday night welcomed by Carlos and Mauricio whom took me directly to taste some Ecuatorian beer, to the top of the old city for the magnificent view of Guayaquil, then onto 2 different parties. But Saturday is when the real magic happened. Mauricio and I went to Montanita. Now this trip was a real feat. The first bus took us about ¾ of the way there, the second about another 45 minutes to an hour and the last one… well the last one didn’t have any room. It pulled up and I was super excited to see a man riding on top. I thought for sure I would get the chance to get up there too because surely there was no room whatsoever inside. A 30 seater and in the space of the first 8 seats were 34 people (I counted), must have been over 150 of us in there. I was pushed onto the 2nd step when we took off, 6 guys behind me hanging on for dear life to the last step. Slowly I was pressed forward into the isle. Then came the stops, 5-10 people at a time pushing their way through the sardined masses, however space didn’t open up. One stop after another, 20 seconds after each other. Now I have to wonder, is it really more convenient to have the bus stop just a few meters after it previously stopped, all the while stepping on and over people in the isles (me)-can’t you all just get off at once? I was really wishing that the guy would’ve let us hold on up top. Oh well, we were there… it didn’t matter anymore. Montanita was all around us, all 6 square blocks of it. A surfing beach with clean water and an almost unbearable amount of foreigners enjoying it. I shared my hostal with Germans, Kiwis, English, Dutch, Yugoslavs (seriously, that’s what the visa says because Ecuador doesn’t have Macedonia in the computer- it doesn’t exist) and of course the few token Ecuatorianos. The beach party was strong all night and tons of fun I wasn’t expecting.
I left Guayaquil early Monday morning for a short trip to Cuenca. This is when I realized something wasn’t right. I had all my stuff- check. I had plans of where I was going when I reached the bus terminal-check. Oh, it wasn’t me- it was the crazy people around me that were driving me nuts. This is terrible to say, I know. But I couldn’t help notice it. They were running into me left and right- some I think were going out of their way to run into me. The girl at the ticket counter gave me my ticket and said, you better hurry if you want to make it, the bus leaves in 3 minutes from top platform. The guy at the gate, where you had to pay $0.10 to get in or out, told me that I in fact couldn’t use the escalator to bring my suitcase to the top. “Why not,” I inquired- “oh, it will break if you go on it.” “Well, why do you have it if it’s useless?” (…idiots) So, there I was climbing the 1st flight of stairs quite rapidly and a bit angry for things I couldn’t understand. The 2nd flight had another escalator- of course I took it- however, the 3rd, 4th, and 5th flights the escalator wasn’t working---go figure. I went to my bus hot and sweaty, upon sitting down it took off. Perfect timing. And I’m off to city #5…hmm.. maybe that’s why Ecuador’s just not doing it for me. Ever since I’ve arrived a week ago, not a day has gone by that I haven’t been on a bus for more than 3 hours. On a shaky, rickety, bus without bathrooms, without comfort, without … well, without anything that NOT being on a bus provides. In Colombia I did 5 cities over the course of 3 weeks. That’s just it, I need to chill somewhere for a full day, perhaps even a day and a ½ and NOT be a on a bus. Well, that took me long enough to figure out. I have been salty about this country for a week now and its all because I’ve haven’t taken the time to relax in one place long enough to enjoy it.
Cuenca looked about the size of Glencoe, Mn. (pop. 5,000) when we pulled in. A hidden little pueblo nestled between the mountains, that turned out to be a whopping 500,000 people- that’s about ½ the size of Minneapolis, isn’t it? One can easily be fooled by how big a place really is here- it’s more condensed with apartment buildings and many, MANY people living together in one place. Walking around the city I felt culture, true culture. Maybe it was the dress, but I felt/saw it. Traditional dress is worn here; full skirts in bright colors, long hair in braids, and warm ponchos draped over their shoulders- to top it off, they sometimes carried large baskets on their backs with merchandise. That was pretty cool. Cuenca was nice overall. I stayed in a nice dormitory type hostal with yet another New Zealander and an Italian. Had a meal with Mr. Kiwi that wasn’t disappointing in the least, and found a foto exhibition with high and mighty photographers who, while drinking their champagne and posing for pictures, thought they were the shit. I could’ve done without their brand name black rimmed glasses, fancy jackets and better than thou attitude, but some of the pictures were great and the cheese was good too. I was able to get some laundry done (a HUGE smile- it’s the simple pleasures...) and actually spent hours with one local chatting about life in all its splendor. Ok, lets be serious- I can’t have a life conversation in Spanish, but he was having issues with 3 different girls- and I am more than happy to give advice about situations like that. I learned a bit about why Cuenca attracts so many gringos (best city to learn Spanish- Ecuador is the best country- according to “they”) and accepted the fact that I can’t be in such a rush when traveling if I want to enjoy myself. I must increase my level of patience and what is the opposite of stubborn? Whatever that is… I need it, a lot of it! In a few hours I’m off on a 5 or 6 hour journey to Loja, Vilcabamba to be exact which overlooks the ‘valley of longevity.’ There I will stay for at least 2 nights before moving onto Peru.

mitad del mundo

quito 012, originally uploaded by angelaostlie.

center of the world baby! YEAHHHH!!!!!!!!!!