The chorus of Lake Titikaka is a quiet rhythm. The short gasps of lake water lapping up on the white sand coves, the repetitive crunch of gravel under my feet, my short breaths trying to grab more oxygen than the air will allow, a gust of wind here and there, and the occasional whine of a donkey echoing through the hills.
Sapphire blue water surrounds me as I walk alone across the spine of Isla del Sol, the deep and mysterious water plunging into underwater cities of gold and silver, filled with mermaids, or so the Incas thought. Cottonball clouds cling to the horsizon, framing the clear blue sky and strong sun. White capped mountains stand stong and wise in the distance, witnessing the world from the top.
The land is wrinkled by the terraces built by civilizations past, but holding up today and used daily by the 2000 indigenous people who still live here. Women in wide skirts, alpaca sweater schlep striped sacks of all colors up and down the hills through the day, calling to children in qeutchwa and commanding small herds of donkeys and sheep.
After three hours of hiking, well maybe 2 and a half hiking and a half hour of breaking, I reached the sacred rock, where the Incan mythology was apparently born. Someone told me if you touch it you can see the future. No apocalytptic psycic visions, but had lots of contemplations time and quiet moments just sitting and thinking about life and beauty.
Maya and I found some ruins that used to be a sacrifice ground, even had a sacrificial table.
We stayed the night on the less populated, untouristy side of the isand. No flushing toilets, little exlectricity, but inspiring calm.
Woke up the next morning before sunrise to hike the way back. Also woke to food poisoning. Tried to hike a shortcut used by the natives where you climb for an hour, apparently cutting of the unessacary switch backs and then just head downhill. Tbhe thing is i thought the word ´subir´just meant go up here, but in this context, they meant rockclimb up to the main trail. One step at a time, one breath at a time, the trail eventually arrived. One of the most laborious hours of my life, but I did cut off a good hour. Glad to arrive at the more populated and more comfortable side of the island as the stomach aches began to take over.
Spent the day lounging, trying to ignore stomach pains, and admiring the beauty of the Isla. Went out for a trout dinner for the third night in a row for about 3 US dollars with fresh incan mashed potaotes and quinoa soup. Unfortunatelty my mind was more excited than my stomach. No more details here, except that Im glad to be alive and well now and glad to be travelling with smart caring girls who speak spanish. Also glad to live near hospitals.
Packed up our things and hiked down the mountain past the ancient Incan fountain and got on a boat for Cocacabana. Ahora, estoy en Cocacabana.
Monday, May 23, 2011
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Lago Titikaka day 1
The plane flight from the jungle to La Paz, taxiride downtown, undetaining our passports from immigrations, a taxi back uptown, and 4 hr bus and a two hour open air boat ride across Lake Titikaka was nothing compared to the climb to our hostel on Isla del Sol.
The sun set behind us as we braved the daunting stairs up to the town area on the north side of Isla del Sol. One step at a time, one breath at a time. Keeping my eyes on my feet, stepping from stone to stone, focusing on the bright green grass between steps, focusing on the patches of white daisies framing the path, focusing on anything but my bodily senstaions: a combination of
. To the right of the path, a stream of water rushed down the hill, reminding me of the direction my body wanted to go, down. But I pushed against gravity and the 20 plus pounds on my back, knowing I could enjoy this picturesque ascent, when it was a descent. A young boy scampered up the hill in front of us, completely accustomed to running at 4280 meters. He offered us a sprig of natural mint to calm our panting.
We fell through the door of the hostel in a breathless pile, tossing our backpacks, bags and water bottles on the concrete floor. After ordering our things, we left to climb the hill further, the thought of warm food and a beer reeling us up the hill. Quinoa soup, stuffed trout from the lake, and banana leche juice at a candle lit table next to a woodburning stove made the crazy day worth it.
Woke in the middle of the night to a bright light outside the window. The moon had risen and cast a thick white beam across the sea size lake.
The sun set behind us as we braved the daunting stairs up to the town area on the north side of Isla del Sol. One step at a time, one breath at a time. Keeping my eyes on my feet, stepping from stone to stone, focusing on the bright green grass between steps, focusing on the patches of white daisies framing the path, focusing on anything but my bodily senstaions: a combination of
. To the right of the path, a stream of water rushed down the hill, reminding me of the direction my body wanted to go, down. But I pushed against gravity and the 20 plus pounds on my back, knowing I could enjoy this picturesque ascent, when it was a descent. A young boy scampered up the hill in front of us, completely accustomed to running at 4280 meters. He offered us a sprig of natural mint to calm our panting.
We fell through the door of the hostel in a breathless pile, tossing our backpacks, bags and water bottles on the concrete floor. After ordering our things, we left to climb the hill further, the thought of warm food and a beer reeling us up the hill. Quinoa soup, stuffed trout from the lake, and banana leche juice at a candle lit table next to a woodburning stove made the crazy day worth it.
Woke in the middle of the night to a bright light outside the window. The moon had risen and cast a thick white beam across the sea size lake.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
to the selva
After 3 days full of adventure and lacking on oxygen in La Paz, we are headed down a few thousand feet into the Bolivian Amazon (rurrenbaque). Going on a 3 day trek where we´ll swim with pink dolphins, see crocs, anacondas, macaws. Started malaria meds today, much more scared of bugbites than crocodile bites.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
la paz sin paz
A few beautiful days in northern argentina. We rented a car in salta and drove three hours through the bright orange andes to the wine region of cafayate, a tiny tiny town with good food, beauty and tranquility. the whole drive i wasnt sure if i was on mars, in zion national park or what. out of ths world geology. the town had gorgeous colonial buldings and catholic churches. i wish we could have stayed a week.
then on to san salvador jujuy for a night in a nice hostel where we rested and then took a bus to the little pueblo of tilcara. all adobe buildings and maybe 500 residents. in a valley surrounded by enormous orange moutains speckled with cacti, wild llamas and apparently not wild horses. traditional pena music came from a few small music places around the town square, llama burgers were availalable at the ´restaurant´-houses and the people were very kind. we stayed in a hostel with cabins and homemade jam breakfast situated on a hill over the tiny brown town. sunrise was unforgettable.
next, we took a bus to the bolivian border and thats when the stress started. the computers were down. three hours of waiting, we talked with travellers and watched hundreds of indigenous women dressed in big skirts, sweaters, widebrimmed hats and braided pig tails schlep huge sacks on their backs back and forth across the border. once we got across, we got the the bus station where we were harassed by every bus company and finally just got on one destined for tupiza. this bus ride was straight out of indiana jones. creek crossings, more dirt roads than paved, dirt tunnels just big enough for the bus, the whole time the bus was making wheezng noises, and of course it was night.
arrived in tupiza and decided what the heck we dont want to stay here lets keep going. bought bus tix for la paz for 830. the bus came at 1030. when it came it parked across the street in a patch of dirt and three men hopped out and started working on the engine. a couple of girls got off and said ´`good luck with that bus´`. we freaked out, should we get on or not, is this stupid? we got on. it was 18 hours of no sleep, bumps, but beautiful nighttime scenery. bright stars, big moon and huuuuuge mountains, tiny villages. we passed the famous potosi mines, saw the shacks the miners live in. we sat next to indigenous women carting sacks of herbs anmd things. they spoke a very different toungue of spanish, hard to understand.
finally got to la paz, this big city in a valley below snowy peaks of the andes. i have never seen a city like this. street venders everywhere. ill describe it more when ive seen more. chaotic but beautiful, smells of everything you could think of. street food, dirt, gas, pee. after being denied by two hostels we found one, then realized we had to go to immigrations as the people atthe border gave us the wrong stamp and we were currently illegal ´'invaders' as the man put it. after two hours, back and forth from window to window to copy center, and about 200 usdollars later we are legally here. keep in mind we hadnt eaten all day. we were all about to strangle the people at immagrations.
got soup, sandwhiches and pizza into the bellys and suddenly the color of la paz was brighter. went to bed, slept on a bed for the first time n a couple days. in fact, slept at all for the first time in a couple days. stayed in a cute hostel with courtyard. now were checking out to a cheaper hostel for backpackers. and going to go see the city and figure out how were getting to the amazon. mayah is going to brave the´20 hour busride across part of the death road, where usually you dont even have your own seat and people pee in bowls and toss it out the windeow. met someone yesterday whose friend was on it and the brakes went out. they fixed it with a shovel and a two by four. apparently they lose a couple of busloads a year. i am opting for the cheap flight. 80 dolars seems worth my life.
after the hell of the last 24 hours of waiting, bussing, not eating, waiting, arguing in spanish, i feel like la paz may bring a little more paz now that our bellies are full and we are legally here.
then on to san salvador jujuy for a night in a nice hostel where we rested and then took a bus to the little pueblo of tilcara. all adobe buildings and maybe 500 residents. in a valley surrounded by enormous orange moutains speckled with cacti, wild llamas and apparently not wild horses. traditional pena music came from a few small music places around the town square, llama burgers were availalable at the ´restaurant´-houses and the people were very kind. we stayed in a hostel with cabins and homemade jam breakfast situated on a hill over the tiny brown town. sunrise was unforgettable.
next, we took a bus to the bolivian border and thats when the stress started. the computers were down. three hours of waiting, we talked with travellers and watched hundreds of indigenous women dressed in big skirts, sweaters, widebrimmed hats and braided pig tails schlep huge sacks on their backs back and forth across the border. once we got across, we got the the bus station where we were harassed by every bus company and finally just got on one destined for tupiza. this bus ride was straight out of indiana jones. creek crossings, more dirt roads than paved, dirt tunnels just big enough for the bus, the whole time the bus was making wheezng noises, and of course it was night.
arrived in tupiza and decided what the heck we dont want to stay here lets keep going. bought bus tix for la paz for 830. the bus came at 1030. when it came it parked across the street in a patch of dirt and three men hopped out and started working on the engine. a couple of girls got off and said ´`good luck with that bus´`. we freaked out, should we get on or not, is this stupid? we got on. it was 18 hours of no sleep, bumps, but beautiful nighttime scenery. bright stars, big moon and huuuuuge mountains, tiny villages. we passed the famous potosi mines, saw the shacks the miners live in. we sat next to indigenous women carting sacks of herbs anmd things. they spoke a very different toungue of spanish, hard to understand.
finally got to la paz, this big city in a valley below snowy peaks of the andes. i have never seen a city like this. street venders everywhere. ill describe it more when ive seen more. chaotic but beautiful, smells of everything you could think of. street food, dirt, gas, pee. after being denied by two hostels we found one, then realized we had to go to immigrations as the people atthe border gave us the wrong stamp and we were currently illegal ´'invaders' as the man put it. after two hours, back and forth from window to window to copy center, and about 200 usdollars later we are legally here. keep in mind we hadnt eaten all day. we were all about to strangle the people at immagrations.
got soup, sandwhiches and pizza into the bellys and suddenly the color of la paz was brighter. went to bed, slept on a bed for the first time n a couple days. in fact, slept at all for the first time in a couple days. stayed in a cute hostel with courtyard. now were checking out to a cheaper hostel for backpackers. and going to go see the city and figure out how were getting to the amazon. mayah is going to brave the´20 hour busride across part of the death road, where usually you dont even have your own seat and people pee in bowls and toss it out the windeow. met someone yesterday whose friend was on it and the brakes went out. they fixed it with a shovel and a two by four. apparently they lose a couple of busloads a year. i am opting for the cheap flight. 80 dolars seems worth my life.
after the hell of the last 24 hours of waiting, bussing, not eating, waiting, arguing in spanish, i feel like la paz may bring a little more paz now that our bellies are full and we are legally here.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
the way to salta
After months of planning, googling, stressing and dreaming of travelling through south america, we finally stuffed our packs with too many clothes, books and premade juice packets into my dad´s backpack from the 80s, strapped them onto our backs and endured a 45minute long inferno between our apartments and retiro, the main train and bus station. Full subway, switching lines, 80 degrees, wearing a down jacket i couldnt remove, 2 backbacks, 2 bags. plastic bag breaks. natasha calls. natasha texts. cant find bus ticket. natasha calls again. need i say more? finally we ascended on the crowded escalator into the purgatory of retiro bus station, where robbers lurk around every corner apparently, but the heat was gone and i knew the pain was almost over. soon after we waited at the terminal freaking out when 10 minutes before departure our bus still was no where in sight, but rolled into view 5 minutes before six and left 3 minutes after. this aint SFO. the bus was heaven. air conditioning. leather seats reclining into beds. coffee, cold and hot water and movies literally within an arms length. food places on my lap every couple hours. i could get used to executive class.
i woke up this morning in the same utopian bus seat, plus a window seat watching the province of Tucuman pass by. thicks bushes, shrubs, cacti, oaks and wierd looking trees out of the lorax make the hills look like alligator skin, rolling bumpily off into the andes, which suddenly jut up behind this bucolic haven. its out of a painting. wild horses run alongside the bus, cowboys on horses herd small groups of cows. scattered small farms of corn and other vergetables pass by, but mostly its just wild plant life. occoasionally we pass over clear, rocky rivers, forrsts (literally forests) of sunflowers. some fields are butter yellow, others a bright mustard, with strange spindly cacti reaching out of the ground like the gnarled green plastic witch hands seen on front porches around halloween. spooky.
the more i look out the window thr more i realize how varied this place is. some places are like jungly, some fields, and the colors are constantly changing deep red grasses, bright yellows, every shade of green. the lack of rhythm and rhyme to the mixture of all these landscapes puts them together in a most perfect pattern of randomness. some fields have a single flourishing oak surrounded by only grass for acres.
a mass of thick, pillowy clouds casts a sleepy shadow over it all and i roll over in my cushy chair for a nap.
i woke up this morning in the same utopian bus seat, plus a window seat watching the province of Tucuman pass by. thicks bushes, shrubs, cacti, oaks and wierd looking trees out of the lorax make the hills look like alligator skin, rolling bumpily off into the andes, which suddenly jut up behind this bucolic haven. its out of a painting. wild horses run alongside the bus, cowboys on horses herd small groups of cows. scattered small farms of corn and other vergetables pass by, but mostly its just wild plant life. occoasionally we pass over clear, rocky rivers, forrsts (literally forests) of sunflowers. some fields are butter yellow, others a bright mustard, with strange spindly cacti reaching out of the ground like the gnarled green plastic witch hands seen on front porches around halloween. spooky.
the more i look out the window thr more i realize how varied this place is. some places are like jungly, some fields, and the colors are constantly changing deep red grasses, bright yellows, every shade of green. the lack of rhythm and rhyme to the mixture of all these landscapes puts them together in a most perfect pattern of randomness. some fields have a single flourishing oak surrounded by only grass for acres.
a mass of thick, pillowy clouds casts a sleepy shadow over it all and i roll over in my cushy chair for a nap.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Agridulce (bittersweet)
After the three months in the city that really sleeps; putting off dinner till 10, drinks till 1, and sleep until well into the next morning. After kissing more people in a day than I normally kiss in a year (on the cheek, don't worry mom, I still don't have herpes). After squinting away from uninvited besos from hombres and learning to push them away. After the imperfect subjunctive. After the irregular verbs. After steak stuffed with bacon and prunes. After declaring myself flexitarian, then redeclaring my vegetarian. After accidentlly telling my host mom I was pregnant (embarazada = pregnant in spanish). After dinner dates out worthy of reality TV air time. After sipping mate with poverty. After the legendary Malbeca wine, perhaps more legendary fernet, and defintely most legenday, absinthe. After bananas smothered in dulce de leche, and ice cream in dulce de leche, alfajores filled with dulce de leche, facturas with dulce de leche, and dulce de leche flavored flan topped with more dulce de leche. After the smells: fresh facturas, homemade pesto, the leather couch, the sidewalk, smog. After a glimpse of the barren Andes and a sip of tranquil Urguguay. After Subtes, buses and taxis. After oral exams. After feeling Iguazu Falls fall on top of me. After waking up to instant coffee and birthday cake. After going to sleep on a full stomach. After the noises; all the god damn noises: hammers, screams, drunk girls laughing outside the club, jackhammers, the horse opera behind my apartment, the boliche behind my apartment. After everyone: nancy, claudio, miriam, marlene, julian, little julian, cuca, gonzalo, uriel, martin, denise, bocha and malba, euge, andres. paola, maje, poala and itamar. After a three and a half months studying abroad in Buenos Aires, here I am at the end. But we all know that the end is only the beginning, right? I hope so.
When I came here a few months ago, I was Emma, age 20, a girl from a small town in California. And after all the afters, I'm still Emma, and still 20 years old (damnit), but I'm different. I've seen, heard, discussed and thought about things I would never see, hear, discuss or think about back home. I've been stretched, twisted and pushed way outside my box, and now I don't even know what my box is. And should I even have a box? Hmm. I'm not trying to get all metaphysical here, but really, this has been awesome, difficult, wonderful, and trying, and I will obviously carry this place, these people and these experiences through the rest of my life.
And the end is obviously on the the begining considering I get on a 22 hour bus headed roughly toward the fine nation of Bolivia.
After all the kisses
After learning some about us as a species, and more about me as a person.
Monday, May 2, 2011
iguazu
I look up into a curtain of water, plummeting over 250ft into a chaotic white abyss just a few feet in front of me. My face, hair, shirt, leggings, all are already drenched. All around is just white, white, white. I feel like a helpless ant under a faucet. The roaring water relentlessly showers us from all directions, paying no care to my high pitched screams of "enough!"
That's when I remember the water isn't coming from a hose, a water park ride, or any human controlled pump device for that matter. I'm in a speed boat directly below Iguazu Falls, and there obviously is no off handle. The boat driver must have messed up, we shouldn't be this close. Back up, back up! Death seems imminent. I think of the faces of my family, thank god for a blessed life and ..... VROOOOM he guns it into reverse! The shower becomes a spray, and quickly reduces to a calm mist. The driver turns the boat around and we head back to the dock. Sopping yet safe. But absolutely sopping.
Iguazu Falls is apparently one the the 7 natural wonders of the world. This aquatic masterpiece wasn't dreamed up by architects, drawn into detailed plans and constructed by crews. Mama nature did all of it: the 1.7 mile edge divided into 275 separate falls, the breath and umbrella-taking Garganta del Diablo (Devil's Throat) where about half of the river's flow is concentrated in a narrow, U-shaped gorge 700-meter-long, and the breathtaking beauty from so many angles.
We hiked the upper trail along the top of the falls, the long bridges connecting islands that finally brings you right to the top if Garganta del Diablo, hiked the lower trail along the bottom of the falls and then got in a speed boat and did this crazy boat ride into the falls. And to think I used to be too scared to ride Disneyand's Splash Mountain...
The experience of Iguazu was like nothing I've ever seen/done/felt. The feeling of being completely awestruck with the planet Earth, mother nature and the beauty of life that I get every time I look at waterfalls, combined with thinking I was going to die for about 30 seconds, combined with seeing a toucan made for quite the experience. Pheeeew!
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