The Invisible Man

The Journey Home

2005-04-27T06:31:00.000-07:00

My flight from Lima was scheduled at a very early 7:30am, meaning that I was up by 4 in the morning. After checking in, going through security, and being on our American Airlines flight, I was more than ready to return home. As the plane began to accelerate down the runway and pick up speed, it suddenly braked with a jerk, sending us all lurching forward as we came to a stop and producing a plume of smoke on our right side with a scent of burnt rubber. After taxing back to our gate, we learned that there was a problem with one of the engine's air filters, and would have to be fixed before we left.

All of us 200 or so passengers were herded into a waiting area for more than 3 hours until they fixed the problem and we were able to get on our way. By the time we made it to Miami, my connection to San Francisco had already left, despite my record time of 30 minutes making it through immigration and customs. I went to the American Airlines counter to see what they would do.

As I expected (and needed, as I have exhausted my funds) the airline provided me with a flight the next morning, a hotel room, and a food allowance. For that I was grateful, but did not particularly feel like a valued customer that they were concerned about inconveniencing. The food allowance was only $10 for dinner and $5 for breakfast. I didn't want to seem picky, so I didn't raise a fuss, although I would have preferred to eat something better than fast food after 3 months of traveling, 3 hours of waiting, 6 hours in a plane and spending the night alone in a strange city. (Plus, it was fast food instead of Mom's cooking waiting for me in California that night!)

Unfortunately, my slighted feelings were confirmed by a French tourist who I had talked to on my flight from Lima who was also delayed on his connection to Paris. From our conversation in the lobby of the hotel we were both put up in, I know that he at least received a voucher for dinner and lunch the next day, and that the value of his lunch voucher alone was $20.

Here, I will openly wonder what the basis of American Airlines' system for compensating inconvenienced travelers is. Some differences were clear, but I thought they would not matter: he was from France, I the U.S.; he was in his 50's, I am 24; he was Caucasian, I am African American. I won't be presumptuous enough as to make a guess as to the criterion by which American Airlines used to make their decision for different compensation levels, but I will get an answer from them.

That said, the same patience I needed throughout my time in South America (on buses, in stores, in hotels...) was still needed for the final legs of my journey home and is an important part of what I have gained through my travels over the last 3 months. Along with that, is an appreciation for the increased importance of families and relationships in South America, and the eagerness by which they demonstrated it. Also, I have more appreciation for the order, stability and trust that we have in American institutions, and a better understanding of how our superior wealth comforts all aspects of our daily lives. Of course, my use and comfort with the Spanish language (or castillano, if you will) is greater than it has ever been before, and I have had the privilege to visit some of the most spectacular cities and landscapes in the world in just a matter of months.

To me, it is an enigma as to why the cultures and economics of North and South America, the nations of the New World, are not more closely related and working together. However, after this fulfilling experience, I hope to find more ways of making that happen.

Lima, Peru

2005-04-26T04:03:00.000-07:00

Having only a day and a half to spend in Lima, I mostly stuck to the Miraflores neighborhood near the beach, and explored it on foot. It was filled with Lima's middle class, with American-style malls, department stores and eateries dotting the area. However, the affluence the area did not quite match what I have seen in Sao Paulo, Buenos Aires, or Santiago. Nonetheless, the rocky beach was beautiful, I waded in the warm water, and I cheated for the first time on my trip by eating at Pizza Hut.

On the second day, my friend Christian, who met me at the airport, recovered from a one-day sickness and I joined him and his girlfriend for the evening. Downtown Lima, where we ate dinner, is filled with large plazas and colonial architecture, but is far more spread apart than other downtowns. From there we visited a bohemian neighborhood next to the coast and enjoyed views of the water while we sat in a small plaza.

It seemed to be a fitting cap to my trip, spending time with Christian who I met in the first stop of my journey, Rio de Janeiro. Being able to see him, meeting up with my Argentinean friends in La Plata, and staying with a friend of a friend in Sao Paulo were definitely highlights of my trip. Anyone can go travel to see a new place, but it is hard to understand it without an introduction by a local.

A view of Miraflores, Lima, Peru.

A cathedral in downtown Lima at night.

Christian and I.

Christian, myself and his girlfriend at the end of my last night of the trip.

Leaving Cusco and the Andes

2005-04-24T15:47:00.000-07:00

For nearly 3 weeks, I have lived in, and explored the world of South America's Andes highlands. While the regions of South America have a lot common, in many ways, the highlands of the Andes were a world apart from the places I had been. While Chile and Argentina had strong European and cosmopolitan influences, Bolivia and Peru have been more isolated and shaped by indigenous culture and peoples. While the southern cone of South America had modern roads, infrastructure and amenities, the Andean highlands were unmistakably third-world, with decent housing, sanitation and roads all being challenges to obtain.

That said, Cusco was the jewel of the highlands. While the city is definitely over "touristized," the diversity of culture of the people, the gorgeous colonial architecture, the church-lined plazas, cobblestone street, and natural setting easily overrode the negatives and made it a great place to rest up both before and after the Inca Trail.

The night after the trail, I slept for 13 hours in my comfortable Cusco room, and took it easy the entire day. In the evenings, I was able to meet up with many of my trailmates, Armelle and Gerard from France, Silvio, Constanza, Romina, and Patricia from Argentina.

Today I took a flight from Cusco to Lima, and was pleasantly greeted by my friend Christian, whom I met at the beginning of my trip in Rio. I was also welcomed by the beautifully warm weather and the familiar Pacific Ocean after 3 weeks of chilly, near-freezing temperatures. My trip feels like it is effectively over, since my flight home leaves Tuesday morning, but I still have all day Monday to get a feel for Lima, Peru's capital city.

The main cathedral of Cusco, on the central Plaza de Armas in the center of the city. The Peruvian flag waves in front.

Another view of the plaza.

Another cathedral on the Plaza de Armas.

A gated roadway in Cusco.

Another cathedral along a cobbled roadway and wall in the city.

A chance meeting outside the Inca Museum in Cusco with Duda, my friend from Sao Paulo who I last saw in January.

Another colonial street in the city.

Photos: Macchu Picchu

2005-04-23T18:51:00.000-07:00

In the foggy morning, Macchu Picchu comes into view.

Macchu Picchu.

Looking downslope.

I have arrived.

The city to the left, and the Urubamba River valley to the right.

Looking back up to the Puerta del Sol.

The doorway to the city.

A view from inside.

Looking back uphill at the guardtower.

Another view from inside.

One of our guides, Ernesto speaking to our subgroup in English.

A temple usually used for llama sacrifices, and rarely, for human ones.

Temple of the Sun.

The "country" royal palace. The main royal residence was in Cusco.

The Macchu Picchu Orchid, which only grows in this area.

A grand courtyard between temples on the higher plateau of the city.

Another temple.

A special stone which marks the cardinal directions from within the city.

A carved rock, reflecting the mountain range right behind it. It was believed to be used as a map to demonstrate how to reach another settlement behind the nearest mountain.

An astrological stone used to mark summer and winter solstices.

Llamas in the central courtyard.

Temple of the Condor. The central stone on the ground represents its head, while two large stones behind it represent its wings.

Looking towards the farm terraces.

A crypt inside the city, with the steps representing part of Andean religious belief that is related to the form of the Andean Cross.

Looking back.

Eating lunch after our final day. From left to right, Constanza, Silvio, Gerald, Myself, Krishna, Vivek, Sami, Arhmelle, Romina and Patricia.

Our guide Ernesto and I, both glad to be finished!

Photos: The Inca Trail

2005-04-23T17:23:00.000-07:00

Beginning the Inca Trail. From left to right, Flavia, Silvio, Isabella, Mary Angela, Constanza, Ahmelle, Patricia, Gerald, Krishna, Romina, Sami, Vivek, and me.

One of our guides, William, discussing Inca religion in some ruins on the first day.

The valley where we camped the first day.

Crossing the Urubamba River to begin the trail on the morning of the 2nd day.

A view of ruins placed at the confluence of the Urubamba River and a smaller mountain stream that leads into the mountains. We took a left and headed upward.

A bit of relief in the cold snow melt of the mountain stream after climbing for a couple of hours.

Everyone else relaxing as well.

The trail begins its steep ascent without relief until Dead Woman's Pass.

The landscape changes to forest.

Falling short of our goal, we camp on a small plateau still 3km from Dead Woman's Pass.

The view from the campsite looking the other way into the deep valley from which we came.

On the morning of the 3rd day, finally reaching Dead Woman's Pass.

Jubilation.

Our guides, Ernesto and William.

At the lowest point between the first two passes, the path rises again.

An unforgettable view from the bottom of the valley off to the right.

Looking back up at Dead Woman's Pass.

Inca ruins of a religious purpose between the two passes.

An Inca Tunnel after the second pass.

The trail continues...

...and continues...

A second tunnel.

In the midst of this long, 3rd day, it begins to rain.

Beautiful flowers I couldn't pass up.

Ruins on the other side of the 3rd pass. The path descended drastically from this point forward.

Mountains to the north of the trail, across the Urubamba river valley, which is far below the picture.

A gorgeous rainbow in the same mountains minutes later.

The morning of the 4th and final day.

The ruins of Puerta del Sol (Doorway of the Sun), from which it is possible to see Macchu Picchu...

...however, because of the ubiquitous clouds, we could not.

Macchu Picchu (Inca Trail, final day)

2005-04-22T13:10:00.000-07:00

In the morning after our last night of camp, we awoke at 5am to a light drizzle that quickly turned into a steady rain. After having our usual breakfast of pan(bread), pankekes(pancakes), and tea, we set out for the last stretch of the Inca Trail, in the midst of an enveloping and ubiquitous fog.

Fortunately, our group decision the night before to set off 1 hour later than the other groups worked to our advantage. Despite sharing a campsite with the other groups for the first time, and despite the massive number of them, we didn't run into any other groups along our way there. The trail was as quiet, empty, and, seemingly, ours as it had been the entire 4 days.

The trek, while short, was still a bit of a challenge, not because of the terrain, but because all of us had extremely sore and tired muscles. The shortest climbs, or stairways downward were taken slowly and with extra caution. Nonetheless, the last challenge of the trail presented itself as a practically vertical set of twenty or so stairs to reach a small plateau. There we saw that we were close to our goal, as we had reached the Inca Puerta del Sol. (Doorway of the Sun.)

From that vantage point, we waited 20 minutes for the clouds to clear so that we could get a view down to the famed city of Macchu Picchu. But the weather did not cooperate. Disappointed, but heartened by our proximity, we began the final descent to the ruins. Knowing that the goal was close, I took a much slower stride than in days before an had a great conversation along the way with our guide Ernesto.

Finally, mid-descent, the clouds began to break and the sun squirted through, giving us the first glimpse of Macchu Picchu. While I had seen the setting in pictures a hundred times before, I was not prepared for the grand size of the entire city. In its day, Macchu Picchu not only housed over 2000 residents and was the location of the Inca royal "country palace," but it included several temples, astrological sites, a rock quarry, and acres upon acres of terraced farmland.

After taking more pictures than I can count, our guide took us on a tour of the complex, not only explaining the significance of the buildings, but also sharing a little bit about Inca religious beliefs and their evolution. After spending 3 and a half hours in the complex, I was exhausted, not only from the time walking around and listening to the commentary, but from the cumulative 4 days of unsurpassed physical effort. Also contributing to my exhaustion was the rapidly changing environment of the ruins, as trainload after trainload of tourists began to fill up the park. Frustration from the increased gridlock, and vastly different vibe they projected than our fellow hikers assured me that I had enjoyed as much as I was going to of the park that day.

That said, the first 2 hours at the park, between 8:30 and 10:30am were tranquil and perfect. In confirmed all of the suggestions I had received to do the hike in order to enjoy the park before the hordes of people arrived. Furthermore, the 4 days of hiking felt like a communion with nature, in mountainous settings that were breathtaking, traversing through vastly different climates. Day after day, the purity of the land and air, and the beauty of the landscape seemed to be magnified into an unforgettable experience. And pushing myself to the physical limit day after day is something I'll always remember.

In the afternoon, the group reunited in a small restaurant in the nearby town of Agua Caliente while we waited for our trains back to Cusco. It was good to see each other, and we traded stories from our day's experiences as well as our contact information for the future. Again, I was incredibly fortunate to be placed with this group of people who were mostly from South America. Observing the group dynamics and characteristics of many of the other groups, dominated by and catered to Western tourists who just wanted to party on the trail, I know that I would not have enjoyed my experience as much had I been with them.

For me, the Inca Trail was more than just a hike, it was a journey to understand something of Inca and Quechua culture, to respect and appreciate the uniqueness of the Andes, and it was a vehicle through which to test oneself and make a reflection of the soul. To those ends, my groupmates served as partners, and my experience was the richer for it.

The Trial (Inca Trail, day 3)

2005-04-21T19:37:00.000-07:00

I completely understand now why some people call it the "Inca Trial." It is definitely a test, and a kind of measure of worthiness and determination. I thought that yesterday was difficult, but today we walked from 5:30am until 7:20pm, nearly fourteen hours of continuous hiking, minus breaks and lunch. I definitely have a blister now, and my legs are so tired and sore that I can hardly move around in my tent. Yet I have a ton of satisfaction in the fact that I have walked further and higher than I ever thought possible.

We awoke at 4:30am and set off at 5:30 to conquer the final 1/3rd of the infamous climb to Dead Woman's Pass. Even yesterday's hike did not prepare me for the ferocity of the climb, nevertheless, I was the second to the top, and celebrated with a shout having reached the 13,776ft pass. If you were to have invited me to camp at 6000ft and then climb to a 13,000ft peak with you, I would never have attempted it, but the allure of the Inca Trail has drawn me to do more than I ever would have before.

Surprisingly, the descent down the other side of the pass was just as difficult for me as the climb. My surgically repaired knee reacts especially badly to going down steep stairways.

We had a late breakfast at the lowest point between the two passes, in the midst of intense sunshine and 70 degrees (Fahrenheit) of heat. It was a disorienting change from the near-freezing temperature of our high-altitude campsite earlier this morning. We continued from there to the second, slightly lower pass where we learned about an Inca ceremony thanking Pachamama (Mother Earth) for good provisions during a journey.

From there, we descended and then climbed again to the third and final pass of the trail. Along the way, we passed through the dense vegetation of the "cloud forests," named because of the sub-tropical growth of the area, and the fact that it is at such a high elevation that clouds routinely pass through the forest several times a day like fog.

Immediately after the third pass, we waited for our guide to talk to us about a set of ruins there, but it began to downpour. So instead, we immediately began the extremely steep descent toward our campsite, which consisted of a stairway of supposedly 2000 stairs down. Along the way, as I kept count, we caught sight of the nearest settled town to Macchu Picchu, Agua Caliente, as well as a spectacular rainbow, hung between two clouds at the level of the string of peaks across the deep valley to our right.

While walking, day turned into night very quickly, and soon it was necessary to descend by flashlight. It was dark when we finally came to the sign directing us to our camp, and by that time, I had counted 2094 stairs. Tired, hungry, and rushed by the darkness, we were comforted by the thought that we were near our destination. Little did we know that we still had 598 stairs down to go. When we finally arrived, at 7:15pm, it had been pitch dark for an hour, I was exhausted, and my legs were jelly. I don't think I've ever been so sore or tired.

The good news is that tomorrow is the 4th and final day, and we only have 6km to go, as opposed to the 22km and 3 mountain passes we did today. Should we wake on time and stay on schedule, we should arrive at the ancient city 2 hours before the first train of tourists, giving us some time to explore its mysteries without distraction.

Inca Trail, Day 2

2005-04-20T13:37:00.000-07:00

Day two got started a little slowly, with the wakeup call coming at 5am, and us not getting going until 6:30. We started along the trail cutting through the valley along the river until we reached the ruins of Llactapata, a large complex which in its day contained residents, commerce, and farming, as well as being a military checkpoint from its strategic location in the valley.

From there we continued along a taxing path that included many climbs and descents, until we reached a bridge crossing a smaller side river. With a little bit of time on our hands, we lost our shoes and socks and dipped our feet in the chilly water of the snow melt.

The bridge marked the beginning of a grueling 9km stretch of the trail that would elevate us over 3000 feet, until we reached the Dead Woman's Pass, which sits at 13,776ft. The path was merciless, continuing with a steep incline without a level portion or a descent for the entire way. At several portions, the path was so steep that the Inca constructed stone stairways to make the climb. But some of the inclines were so sharp that they were steeper than a normal staircase.

For me, this 2 and a half hour portion of the hike (after 5 hours of strenuous hiking already) was a great test of physical willpower. When the step paths would turn a corner, I would pray to see an even stretch, but every turn led to steeper and steeper inclines, some which seemed to go straight up. There was no relief, and having to maintain such a slow pace, it was impossible to judge my progress.

Overall, we did not reach our goal today of camping on the other side of the pass, as half our group struggled with the ascent, and needed additional time to finish it. Nonetheless, it was an impressive effort. 18km and elevating over 4000ft on the day. Unfortunately, I can tell that I am already getting a blister, and both of my knees are sore on the eve of a huge descent. But I was surprised that I was able to do what I did, as I was the first in the group to reach the campsite, despite never having done a hike like this ever before.

Our campsite tonight is just a couple of kilometers away from Dead Woman's Pass, and has a spectacular view down into the valley from which we just climbed. Exactly opposite us is a grand mountain that must be 3000m from base to peak, and surrounding us at our high altitude are a group of peaks that guard our small plateau.

Tomorrow will supposedly be an easier day of hiking with us attempting to cover 22km, with the last half of the hike going downhill. If we are successful, it will leave us with 6km to go to Macchu Picchu for the final day. Tomorrow we will attempt to leave at 5 in the morning.

Inca Trail, Day 1

2005-04-19T18:16:00.000-07:00

Day one of this trek has been a little bit disorganized and late-starting, but has been wonderfully beautiful nonetheless. The day started slowly, with my van pickup only coming late, then, after a much longer drive than I expected, we stopped for breakfast in a small village called Urubamba for 40 minutes. By the time we finally got to the trail, it was after 11am.

We started 5km back farther than usual because of repairs being made to the dirt road, so our hike of substance was only from km 77 to km 82. After lunching and setting up camp we had some time to chill. Our group included an Argentinean couple, an Argentinean mother and daughter, a French couple, 3 east Indian friends, 3 Brazilian cousins, and me.

After the break our two guides led us from our camp 5km to a small Inca ruin on the other side of the river from the trial. There, they shared small theories on how Macchu Picchu was hidden from the Spanish (it was only discovered again in 1911). They also explained the significance of the style of architecture of the ruins, including the significance of the number of windows featured in temples.

Upon returning to the camp, I was again I couldn't help but notice the beauty of the place we were in. A fertile valley, with a rocky, rolling river cutting down the center. On both sides, the landscape climbs steeply into sharp peaks, and, in places, are capped with snow that looks close enough to touch. The rolling clouds that threatened rain, but never delivered, allowed just a sliver of sunlight to filter through, highlighting the hillsides and creating a surreal effect.

Still being 46km away from that ancient city, I already am experiencing the satisfaction and wonder of being in such a spectacular place. Tomorrow should be the toughest day of hiking, as we will cover 24km, including a harrowing 9km ascent to 4200m, a place called Dead Women's Pass. In order to achieve this, we'll all rise at 4:30am tomorrow morning, drink our ordered cups of coca tea, and get on our way.

The Adventure Begins...

2005-04-18T21:08:00.000-07:00

I am currently sitting in a cold, Cusco internet cafe, keeping the owners up much later than they would like, but I thought it was important to write that I am beginning the Inca Trail early tomorrow morning.

By the time I reach the mystical city of Macchu Picchu, I will have trekked almost 50km, and climbed and descended over 6000ft. It will take 4 days, so they'll be no posts or pictures for a while, but I hope to bring back something spectacular...

The Motorcycle Diaries

2005-04-17T15:03:00.000-07:00

I just finished watching "The Motorcycle Diaries," and it has had a much more profound impact on me than I expected. The timing to see this movie for the first time was perfect, at a point where both the loneliness of my journey was pulling me into a shell, and when then the constant begging and selling that I have encountered Cusco (and in the Andean highlands) was nudging me toward bitterness.

I won't recount the movie for those who have seen it, but for those who haven't, it is fascinating and I recommend it highly. Whether I agreed with his methods or conclusions I cannot say (as I don't know much about him), but it was inspiring to see Che Gueverra's character become motivated by the many injustices and imbalances that are still clearly delineated by race in South America today.

Overall, the movie led me to make unfair comparisons to my own travels, due to the quality of his writing and the depth of interaction he had with people along the way. But perhaps, most importantly, watching the movie has given me new energy to complete this trip as I had started it... eager to have genuine interactions with people, and to keep my eyes and ears open to all of the spectacular experiences around me.

The Last Laugh

2005-04-16T06:40:00.000-07:00

Almost 5 weeks ago, Bolivia faced a political and transportation crises, as members of its poor, campesino population objected to a government contract with a private company by blockading the roads into and out of all of Bolivia's major cities. It was not a hard thing to do, as the road network there is skeletal, and traveler's were stuck for over a week, or had to purchase air tickets. That commotion almost caused me to skip doing Bolivia altogether, until I thought better of it. That's why it was especially ironic that on what should be my last bus ride on this trip, in Peru, we should be stopped by a road blockade.

After leaving Puno, Peru at 4pm, already 30 minutes behind schedule, we almost ran into an open fire in the middle of the road with a multitude of large stones spread about the street. Apparently, the villagers of the town were protesting a failed promise of the government and were determined to hold up the buses heading to Cusco. After about 30 minutes of watching the flames leap into the air, our bus attendant came down the aisle, asking for a collection to see if the villagers would let us pass. Everyone contributed, tourists and Peruvians alike, and we were finally granted passage.

Not one hour later, while we were still discussing our amazement at the blockade, we ran into another much stronger one. Upon stationing ourselves behind a line of buses and trucks, our bus driver simply turned off the engine and lights and waited. To satisfy my curiosity I ventured outside and found that there were over 30 buses, trucks and personal vehicles on both sides of the blockade. Upon reaching the center, there were about 80 people milling around, and at the center of them all was a large old trunk of a tree sprawled across the road. Hanging onto the tree for dear life were at least 3 older women of the village.

Nowhere to be seen in either of these incidents was the Peruvian police, or the caterras, who are usually quite thorough in searching for customs violations at random points along Peru's highways.

Fortunately, this stoppage seemed to work its way out in just over 2 hours, and after a ridiculous 30 minutes of non-cooperation as to which side should pass through first, we were on our way. We arrived in Cusco almost 4 hours behind schedule, at 1am. I called a hostel, checked in, and that was the night.

Floating Islands

2005-04-15T13:01:00.000-07:00

Exhausted after a day of speed hiking on Isla del Sol, I boarded a bus in Copacabana, an crossed the border into the last country on my trip, Peru. Upon reaching Puno, on the other side of the lake, I got a room, ate dinner and called it an early night.

This morning I took my first "touristy" tour of the trip. Along with me to take a half day visiting the floating islands in Lake Titicaca were 2 Irish girls, a couple of Germans, 2 Spaniards and a big group of 6 middle-aged American ladies. In the boat, our tour guide gave us a briefing in English before we left, and at each island we visited. For once, there was no doubt that I was on the Gringo Trail.

The floating islands were neat, but definitely sufficient for a half-day. At 30 minutes away from Puno, the small reed-islands are populated by the Uros people, who fled to the islands to escape the influences of the Inca and the Spanish. Today, the islands definitely survive on the tourism generated, yet it was an interesting way of life to observe.

This afternoon it is off to an eight-hour bus ride to Cusco, to rest up for a couple of days and prepare to walk the Inca Trail.

Photos del Isla

2005-04-13T17:54:00.000-07:00

The island was so beautiful, I could only cut it down to 21 photos...

A view of Copacabana, Bolivia from the ferry to Isla del Sol.

Marisa and I on the ferry.

The dock on the southside of Isla del Sol, with the Inca Stairway looking less steep than it was in the center of the photo.

Here's a better view.

Near the top of the island, with parts of the village of Yumani in the background.

From the top of the island, with snow-capped peaks of the Cordillera Real in the distance.

The hostel I stayed at on the top of the island, Puerta del Sol.

The view south from my bedroom.

The view outside my door, facing west, over the balcony.

The village of Yumani in its entirety, from the second-highest peak on the island.

From the summit, the view of the northern end of the island.

Beginning my trek at 8am on the second day.

Following the path along the island's eastern edge.

A small creek along the way.

A cobblestoned stretch through a smaller village.

Now, on the northern end of the island, the path leading west toward the Inca sacred sites.

The view looking north.

According to Inca legend, the rock from which the sun and moon emerged. The sun from opening above, the moon from the one below.

Just to the left of the last photo, and a part of the same rock, Titicaca, the Rock of the Puma. (It is a quarter view of a Puma's head, with the mouth large and wide open, nose to the left, indentation for the eye in the center, and a hint of an ear to the upper right.)

Looking in the opposite direction, facing the Puma, the Inca sacrificial table.

On the Island of the Moon, the building that housed the Inca's Virgins of the Sun.

Isla del Sol, day 2

2005-04-13T17:15:00.000-07:00

The second day on Isla del Sol was as fulfilling as the first. It was relaxing to wake up to a 270 degree view of the lake, on an island free of cars, noise, and pollution. After waking at 7:30am and grabbing some breakfast, I hiked from the southern tip of the island to the north. Along the way were tranquil hills and valleys, rocky streams and pastoral farmland nestled between the hills and the lake.

Along the way I ran into a young guy, about my age, who was walking with his wife, mother, and donkey to pick up some potatoes from the village at the northern tip of the island. Along the way he pointed out several plants growing on the hills that people chewed on or boiled as natural health remedies. Among them were natural mint and eucalyptus leaves.

After 3 hours of hiking, I discovered that I still had to cross a few more hills to reach the Inca sacred sites. In one massive rock was the image of a puma, nostrils upturned, facing the lake. The name of the lake, Titicaca, means Rock of the Puma. According to legend, this was the site where the first Incas appeared, and where the sun and moon emerged from openings in the rock. Opposite the massive stone was a sacrificial table with a circle of chairs around it.

Having seen the part of the island that was the purpose of my visit, I hurried back to the northern village to catch a ferry back. Along the way, we visited the island of the moon, which has ruins of the convent that used to house the Virgins of the Sun. Two hours later, our boat pulled back to the mainland of Copacabana, but the tranquility I acquired on the Isla del Sol remained.

Isla del Sol

2005-04-12T13:58:00.000-07:00

After a night in the quiet town of Copacabana on the banks of Bolivia and Peru's Lake Titicaca, Marisa and I took a one-and-a-half hour ferry to the legendary Isla del Sol.

According to Inca mythology, this island, which sits close to the center of the lake, was not only the site of creation, but also the birthplace of the sun. The island is green and lush, and from the top of its second highest peak, you can see the mountainous shoreline in all directions, including a line of spectacularly snow-capped peaks to the east. Lake Titicaca is also known as being the highest navigable lake in the world, at 3800 meters, and has water bluer and more pristine than even my favored Lake Tahoe in California. With all of the spectacular views in every direction, it is no wonder that the Inca considered this to be a holy place.

After arriving at the small dock on the southside of the island, Marisa and I scaled the famed Escalera del Inca (Inca Stairway) a few hundred feet up to the village perched on a small plateau there. After looking around a bit, she returned to Copacabana to catch a bus to Cusco, while I found a quaint but simple hostel near the top of the village with views of the lake on 3 sides.

For lunch I visited a small family restaurant where I was treated to some of the best Trout I have ever eaten in my life. It was caught just off the island this morning. Since then, I have done some hiking, reading and taking pictures.

Even now I as I sit on this hilltop, it is tough to believe that I am in such a beautiful place. For the 3rd time on my trip, I am experiencing the joy of finding a place here in South America that I have dreamed about. I look forward to what will come.

Peace in La Paz?

2005-04-12T12:35:00.000-07:00

Despite a harrowing experience with a fake police officer, and the theft of one of my traveling partner's plastic bag of personal items, La Paz, the world's highest capital city at 11,500 feet, was just as fascinating as I expected.

The 3-day tour dropped us off in Uyuni, Bolivia, a flat, windswept town that has little going for it besides the tourism from multiday tours like mine. Having bought a train ticket north towards La Paz, for 1:20pm in the morning, I searched for a good bite to eat, and found an excellent one, thanks to my Lonely Planet guidebook. Minuteman Pizza is 2 blocks southwest of the train station and is run by a guy from Massachusetts who settled down with a Bolivian woman in Uyuni. The pizza there was incredible! After more than two months of some of the weirdest and quirkiest pizzas you could ever find, I was in heaven eating a genuine New York style pizza.

After stuffing myself, I went to the train station to wait, and encountered a girl from another tour that I had met a while back. Marisa was going on the same train, but in a different car, so we agreed to meet up and travel together to La Paz.

On the train I ended up sitting next to a very intelligent and ambitious Bolivian girl named Soledad. Just finishing college, she was focusing her work on tourism, and saw it as a means for Bolivia to increase in wealth, win friends abroad, and preserve their unique cultures. We had a very long and interesting conversation in English, until the other passengers needed to fall asleep.

After changing from train to bus in a rough mining town called Oruro, our bus mad a spectacular descent into La Paz. First we drove through La Paz's rapidly growing suburb and slum, El Alto, which has a dizzying altitude of 4100 meters. From there the road made a wide, snaking turn to descend more than 1200 feet, into the narrow valley that houses La Paz's 2 million residents. The view was breathtaking, as the city has only one major thoroughfare, running north to south along the base of the valley. The rest of the city spreads upwards on both sides of the valley, until one side finally reaches El Alto. Again, only pictures can hope to describe it.

In La Paz, Marisa (from London) and I stayed at a wonderful guesthouse just north of the center of the city, on Av. Montez, called Arthy's. It was the perfect place to rest up after the arduous 3-day journey, followed by an overnight train ride. Arthy's was clean comfortable, and run by a wonderful man by the name of Ruben and his family. The hospitality they showed me, and their eagerness to go the extra mile when I needed it will never be forgotten.

After a few days of La Paz's crowded streets and bustling markets, Marisa and I were more than ready for the tranquility offered by the mystical Lake Titicaca, on the border with Peru.

The Cordillera Real mountain range on the approach to La Paz.

Busy and chaotic El Alto, a suburb of La Paz and South America's fastest growing city.

The view of La Paz while descending from the plateau along one side of the narrow valley.

Another view of La Paz during the descent, with a magnificent peak covered by clouds in the background.

Basilica San Francisco, a beautiful church on a downtown plaza.

A statue of one of Bolivia's most famous artists, opposite the basilica on the same plaza.

From the same position, downtown La Paz, looking north.

Plaza Murillo in downtown La Paz, which houses Bolivia's legislative and executive branches of government. (The judicial branch is seated in Sucre.)

A view of a La Paz street that is steep enough to be in San Francisco.

A quaint colonial neighborhood looking down one side of the valley and onto the other.

The Altiplano of Bolivia (Photos)

2005-04-11T18:51:00.000-07:00

Below are almost 30 pictures of the other-worldly landscapes of Bolivia's Altiplano region.

The very secure border control station along a dirt road between Chile and Bolivia at 4,200 meters.

The first salt lake we encountered on the Bolivian side of the border.

A common view in the Altiplano on the first day.

A relaxing, if shallow thermal pool.

Hot geysers at over 15,000 feet.

Up close and ugly.

Rose-colored Lake Colorado, beside which our bare-minimum lodgings were.

The other side of Lake Colorado with piled salt deposits in the distance.

A spectacular rock formation at the beginning of the second day.

More of the rock formations, including our tour's two 4X4's.

More amazing rocks.

The view from the front passenger seat during the some part of the 8 hours of driving.

A beautifuly-reflecting lake.

A full view of the lake.

A new lake with close shots of flamingos, the Altiplano is apparently is the area with the highest number of one of the three major types of flamingos.

Our 4X4 crossing a mountain stream.

Another group of amazing rock formations.

It might sound corny, but these rocks look like something that would make up some sacred Vulcan temple...

A lush river valley in southwest Bolivia as we came out of the isolated highlands into settled areas.

A dusty Bolivian ghost town by the name of Julaca, which died when the local mining industry was privatized 10 years ago.

The beginning of Day 3, the final day, after just entering the partially submurged Salt Flat of Uyuni.

Gratuitous shot.

After turning off the road and entering the lake, the horizon is indistinguisable.

It almost looked like we were flying.

Having reached the exposed salt surface, we took a photo. From left to right, the members of our 4X4: Damien, Phil, Phil, Scott, me and Dave.

Yummy! Pure salt crystals!

The salt hotel.

Uyuni, Bolivia, our final destination.

Salar de Uyuni

2005-04-08T10:58:00.000-07:00

The third and final day of our journey began ominously, despite a surprisingly comfortable night of sleep. Our tour's (Colque Tours) hired driver for our 4X4 was still drunk in the morning after a night of revelry at the dorm with the other tour workers. But fortunately, after 30 hairy minutes of driving, it was clear that our driver had sobered up and was back in good form.

Upon leaving the dormitory, we headed down a dirt road that lead straight into the Salar de Uyuni, the worlds largest salt plain with an area of over 12,000 squared km. After driving for 5 minutes along the road and taking some photos, the driver pulled a fast one on us. He made a sharp left turn off the road and into the shallow water covering the miles of salt. The 6 or so inches of water created a startling visual effect, as it reflected perfectly all the hills and mountains surrounding the plain. And, in certain directions, the sky and ground met, making the horizon indistinguishable.

After driving through the water for another 40 minutes, the salt lake gave way to a blindingly white plain of pure, dry salt. According to our driver, a full meter of salt stood between us and the ground. After an additional hour of driving over what looked like a perfectly flat snowfield, we visited a small hotel made entirely out of salt blocks, and witnessed workers extracting salt from the lake.

Arriving in Uyuni, Bolivia at midday ended our journey, with a meal of rice, potatoes, tomatoes and llama meat, capping a spectacular trip. Without doubt, Bolivia's Altiplano (high plain) region was some of the most amazing landscape I have ever seen, and making our way through those unspoiled and isolated lands for 3 days was as natural an experience as I have yet to have. The extremity of height, lack of moisture, and harshness of the landscape can perhaps only be matched by a couple of places in the world. As it is, the Andes is the world's second highest mountain range. As much as I may try to write about it, the only way to communicate the awesomeness of what I saw will be through pictures, which I will labor to produce in the next couple of days.

Adventure in the Altiplano of Bolivia (High Plain)

2005-04-06T15:50:00.000-07:00

At the end of the 2nd day of a three-day journey across the Andes from Chile to Bolivia, I am in awe of the landscape we have seen. We left San Pedro, Chile early Tuesday morning to climb over 2000 meters (6000 feet) to reach the Chilean-Bolivian border, which was only reached by dirt road. After crossing the border in our tour's 4X4, the seven of us (5 British, our Bolivian driver and me, amazingly the group's translator) followed the gravel road for upwards of 6 hours. We passed numerous majestic Andean peaks, 2 gorgeous salt and borax lakes, a hot spring pool, and a series of shockingly hot sulfur geysers bubbling out of the ground. We ended the day at a very basic and shabby camp building on the edge of Lake Colorado, where microorganisms made both the water of the lake, and the flamingos that consumed them turn pink.

The climate in this area was absolutely otherworldly. Upon crossing the border and afterwards, we never descended below 4000 meters (about 12,000 feet), and at our highest point, the sulfur geysers, we were at 4870 meters, which is 15,290 feet! At this altitude, the mornings and evenings were freezing, while midday was warm. Of course, the air was also extremely thin, and I felt the effects of the altitude all day, through heavy breathing, a headache, and a drastically reduced appetite.

The second day had us continuing north through the unpopulated highlands of Bolivia, finding 2 magnificent rock formations and finding an amazingly reflective lake nestled between several peaks. After more than 8 hours of driving today, we stopped at a much more modern and comfortable dorm, which sits at the magnificent edge of the Salar de Uyuni (the Salt Flat of Uyuni). Tomorrow morning we will cross it.

Photos of Chile

2005-04-04T20:15:00.000-07:00

The border between Argentina and Chile in the middle of the Andes mountain range.

A view of the 29 curves to descend from the mountainous border crossing from Argentina into Chile. Each of the curves are numbered and identified by yellow signs.

Another view of the 29 curves.

The beach at Vina del Mar.

A view of eastern Santiago from the cable chairs atop San Cristobal hill.

A statue of the Virgin Mary, atop San Cristobal hill overlooking Santiago.

Overlooking downtown Santiago from San Cristobal.

A Santiago office building at sunset.

The Atacama Desert in northern Chile, so dry that there aren't even desert brush plants.

The Inca ruins of Pukara, outside of San Pedro de Atacama.

Our spirit guide for the ruins.

Atop the highest point of the ruins, with the valley of the dead off to the lower right.

The Valley of the Moon at sunset, looking southwest.

The Valley of the Moon, looking east.

Biting off too much

2005-04-04T19:37:00.000-07:00

The trip from Santiago to San Pedro de Atacama took almost 24 hours by bus, I believe that it as a distance of over 1000 miles. The landscape changed drastically from dry hills surrounding lush valleys to the center of the Atacama Desert, the driest in the world. It was incredible to see a desert so dry that there was no vegetation at all in the landscape for miles on end.

San Pedro is a tiny town, an hour from Chile's border with Bolivia which seems to be populated half-and-half with international travelers and local residents. While the travelers come from all over the world, with a high number of French, British, and Germans, they are not your regular tourists. If a traveler comes to San Pedro, it is to experience the spectacular mountains and river valleys, and usually to take part in an outdoor adventure. Upon arriving Sunday, my first priority was to reserve a trip across the salt plains of Bolivia to drop me off in the town of Uyuni 3 days later.

In the day before the trip, I rented a bike and explored the area around town. I started alone in the morning biking to a place called Pukara de Quitar, which I explored with a Chilean I met along the way from Santiago. As Rodrigo and I approached the park, a mid-sized dog started to follow us, before running ahead and stationing himself right at the entrance of the park. The park was there to preserve ancient stone ruins of the Incas, and offered grand views of the San Pedro Valley all around. The dog followed us up all the way to the top of the hill, and back down. I jested with my friend that the dog was our spirit-guide.

Exiting, I met a recently-engaged couple named Kim and Stacey from New York, and I met another Chilean while riding further into the valley to Quebara del Diablo. I returned midday, re-hydrated and took off again on bicycle with Dave, a friend from the hostel. We set off for the Valley of the Moon in order to catch sunset, but 3/4ths of the way there, my bike broke down. After the chain fell off 8 more times, I finally gave in and shifted to a much lower gear, but that made riding on the hilly terrain difficult, and nearly impossible. After an incredible amount of effort we finally reached the valley in time for sunset. However, I knew that there was no way I'd make it back the 15km to the town after sunset. Fortunately, I ran into the couple from New York again, and Kim offered me and Dave a lift in the pickup truck he had rented. As tired as I was, and with as much misfortune as I had experienced, they were definitely angels in my path.

This night, I'll pack my things again and try my best to rest up for the 3-day trek across the desert highlands of Chile and Bolivia.

Back in the City

2005-04-02T14:30:00.000-08:00

Santiago, Chile, even though it only has about 5 million people, is an impressive cosmopolitan city. It is both the financial and political capital of Chile and was filled with wide boulevards and modern steel-and-glass skyscrapers spread out like a string from the center of town to the east. Best of all, it was a place filled with business people, hurried shopers and travelers, so my presence wasn't the main point of attention on any street.

As far as I know, Santiago is not especially known for any history or cultural outlets, so I decided to stay for just a couple of days before going north to the Atacama desert. Santiago followed through on its reputation as South America's most Americanized city, in fact, sometimes it reminded me of Texas. It is filled with American businesses such as Pizza Hut, KFC, and Blockbuster, to go along with the ubiquitous Burger Kings and McDonald's. Even many of the local bars and restaurants were laid out in a very American, TGIFriday's style, in stand-alone buildings built for that specific purpose. Both nights I visited Santiago's vibrant nightlife, visiting some pretty upscale clubs with music and decor not unlike what you'd see in the trendiest places in LA or San Francisco.

On the second night, my friends and I from the hostel met an interesting Chilean at a very exclusive afterparty in a private home. It seemed as if most of the guests either worked in the entertainment industry or were well-off for some other reason. Raul was no different, he came from the only remaining Chilean family to still produce and market high quality pisco (a white-grape brandy) to international clients. Somehow, the conversation turned to economics and social classes in Chile, and he gave us his view in his perfect English brought on by 8 years of private instruction. He bluntly asserted that, as a general rule, your wealth and social standing corresponds with the lightness of your skin tone in his country. In my estimation, his bluntness is quite correct, but not just in Chile, it is similar throughout countries in South America, having seen it in Argentina and Brazil.

After another welcome baptism in urban life, I am heading north to the sparsely populated Atacama desert, and Chile's frontier with Bolivia. For the next 3 weeks, my experiences are bound to be drastically different, as I'll be staying in not completely modern small cities and towns, most of them high up in the Andes mountain range. It will be a world away culturally as well, as the highlands of South America are a center of its indiginous cultures, and I am likely to run into people with whom I won't be able to speak to in English or Spanish.

Vina del Mar, Chile

2005-03-31T08:30:00.000-08:00

Vina del Mar was many things that I expected, it was a beautiful town located on the other side of the bay from Valparaiso on the Pacific Coast with many high-rises and quiet, but urban, beaches. For me it was a relief to visit the ocean again, it is calming to be near the water. I spent my days walking up and down the man pedestrian shopping street, and chilling out on the beach a couple of hours each day.

One difference was immediate however, and evidenced itself immediately upon my afternoon arrival, I stuck out in Chile, and in a much more conspicuous way than in Argentina. Reactions to me, when walking down the street, or sitting on the beach, were both positive and negative, but were m ore intense in both ways. At least five times I had people stare at me continuously, even after I was looking back at them, and one man started talking to me when he though I was Brazilian, but became disinterested after I told him I was not. And, as happens frequently since I've been outside Brazil, I was asked persistently by people passing by at night if I had any drugs on me that I'd be willing to sell.

Don't get me wrong, there were plenty of positive reactions as well, of equal intensity. Countless times people passing by would smile and give me a thumbs-up or a peace sign, and more than one group of jovial young people tried to wave me over to join them when I was walking on the beach. I never took them up on the invitations because I was just generally wary of the attention I was getting in general. Most strangely, though, at least 3 times I was walking along a well-trafficked street when someone in a car would honk, smile, and flash a thumbs-up to me while driving past in their car.

I've described all of this to illustrate the intensity of reactions I've received without so much as an introduction or conversation. I have had good, and very normal, interactions with store clerks, hotel workers, and waiters thus far, and I have already met quite a few chill Chileans on my travels thus far. Nevertheless, the intensity of my presence in Vina del Mar made me uncomfortable, and I regret that it was a relief to leave. (Just to be clear, there are quite a few states in the U.S. that I could name off that I don't feel comfortable being in as well...)

I am on my way to Santiago, which I expect will be just as metropolitan as every other large South American city I've been to thus far, and I've heard that it may be the most Americanized. Already I've heard more American pop music blaring out of car windows and stores than any other place I've been to so far.

Leaving Argentina

2005-03-29T09:10:00.000-08:00

Easter Sunday I found a great little missionary Methodist Church to attend with friendly people and a bilingual service. On Monday, I finally finished my IRS tax filling extension and confirmed my reservation for the Inca Trail, removing two urgent items that had been on my to-do list for over a month. Also, I finally met up with and spent the evening with Leigh, my friend from Buenos Aires who is now studying abroad for a year in Mendoza.

Having done all of those things just supported the sensation that my I have completed my time in Argentina, a place in which I had been for 2 months. I've come to like Argentina very much and have experienced amazing hospitality and genuine friendliness there. From the platenses I met in Rio, to my marvelous host mother, to people I talked to on the street, to the workers at the hostel in Mendoza, they've been friendly, helpful, and genuinely interested in getting to know me. I hope that I can help put to rest the unfair reputation Argentineans have for being arrogant and rude, I experienced the exact opposite. Buenos Aires may be the most polite city that I've visited in my life. Argentineans are very proud people, especially when it comes to their landscape and culture, but they are no more proud of their country and its beauty than I am of California and the United States.

Crossing the Andes mountain range this morning was spectacular, we were so high and there was so little vegetation that it was as if we were driving on Mars. Once we crossed the border, however, I felt an immediate difference in the place I was in. What it is, and what it will mean, I don't know yet, but do know that I should be leaving Chile by the beginning of next week, so I won't have much time here. Thus far I have been reminded of home by what is a very California-like landscape, with dry mountain ranges and very fertile valleys and basins. This evening I will return to the Pacific Ocean and my experiences of Chile will begin.