For the hostel website, click here. To email Talbot: talbot_wallace@hotmail.com
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12- Lake Titicaca & Lima, Peru/Ecuador
Here are some of my favorite photos from the past few weeks. Basically, there are two from the Salar de Uyuni: one is of a flamingo and the other is yours truly in from of the really red Colorado Lagunda! Then there is the cool pic of llamas while I was on my trek in Bolivia-everyone loves llamas, right. And last but cetainly not least, my crazy guide posed for that shot in the Pampas with two baby caimen. Yes, he put them right back in the river. I hope you guys enjoy them as much as I do!
November 3, 2003
Hola Folks,
As I am getting within the last few weeks of my trip, I wanted to take some
time in this session to ponder my mental state as I near the end of this adventure.
I am ready to return home to Portland and yes, even America for that matter,
if you can belive that. Traveling is beautiful. You really feel alive and
you tap into a definate zen-like experience as you live day by day. But alas,
all good things do come to end. That´s why you have to
appreciate them while you are experiencing them. That´s what it is all
about, right? I could probably pull off a year on the road if given the right
circumstances. But I am in a much different position then I was 3 years ago
(when I did take a year to travel) and am looking foward to picking up where
I left off in the life I have built for myself in Portland. I really enjoy
globetrotting on my own, but there are plenty of times that it would have
been nice to have someone to share those experiences with. That´s kind
of where you guys come in. It´s a symbiotic relationship. I need to
tell my road stories and express the things that are on my mind and hopefully
from what many of my friends and family have told me, you live vicariously
thru my misadventures around the world. That is probably what I miss the most,
my friends and my family. Seeing a familiar face whom I know
and care for has not happened much in the last 3 months. Not having to go
thru the whole speel of explaining my life story to every person I meet. "
Hi, I am Talbot originally from Va, but now I live in Or, blah, blah,
blah...... Don´t misconstrue what I am saying. That´s a significant
part of why you travel is to meet all sorts of interesting people. But it
does take a lot of energy in starting fresh with people everyday. And once
you
finally start to get to know them, bam, you have to part ways. You go your
way, they go theirs and you have to start all over with the next person. It
is great traveling on your own. You are really never by yourself, but there
are definately times where you feel lonely and yearn for something, anything
familiar. Ok, enough of that kinda of talk. Let us pick up where we left off
on the border of Peru.
Friday, October 10th-I
don't think I have ever been so relieved to be leaving a country in my life.
I thought I might never get out of Bolivia. So when the bus driver brought
the vehicle to a hault and announced that we
were at the Peruvian border, everyone broke out into jubilant applause despite
having about 2 hours sleep! The two adjacent border towns nestled at the southern
end of Lake Titicaca were pretty dodgy. It was around 7am and I was glad that
the sun had already came up. The group proceeded to walk over to the Bolivian
immigration office and got the necessary stamps without further adue. Some
of the touristas even made a few obscene jestures in the general direction
of Bolivia after they were safely on the Peruvian side of the border. We had
another bus that was waiting for us, but unfortunately the Peruvian immigration
opened at 8 am and they are also an hour behind Bolivian time. It seemed like
it took a lifetime to finally get the second Peruvian visa in a month, inked
on my passport. I ran into a few Americans and warned them on the impending
situation in Bolivia. Some of them heeded my advice, some decided to go for
it. It was another 4 hour bus ride to Puno in what seemed to be the most comfortable
bus I have ever experienced. Ormeno, is a large international bus company
and is known to have the nicest buses in the biz. The seats would fold completely
back and had these really cool foot rests that made it feel almost like a
bed-AHHHHH!!! It was a comfty ride to Puno. America, Greyhound sucks, by the
way! This time around, Puno did not seem so bad. I waited for a few
minutes for this Kiwi (NZ) couple I had met on the overnight bus. They were
scampering around asking everyone for advice on where to stay. I told them
I had been there before and I was still in need of some z's, but they did
not listen to me so I decided to go ahead without them. Caught a bicycle rickshaw
that would only cost a few soles. It was a death-defying ride thru honking
traffic to get to Hostal Los Uros, the same place I stayed almost a month
before. I wanted to stay in Puno for a few days to check some of the islands
on Lake Titicaca that I had skipped in my haste to get down to Bolivia. The
most famous were the Los Uros islands that are actually constructed of man-made
reeds. I booked a overnight trip from the hostel that would visit those as
well as we would spend the night with a local family on Amantani, a different
isle. Sounded pretty cool to me. Took care of some plane tickets that would
get me up to Ecuador and the Galapagos. Since I had spent more time than I
had planned in Peru and the blockades in Bolivia, these had eaten into my
visit to Ecuador, so I was just going to concentrate my last two weeks on
the world famous Galapagos. So the plan
was to take a bus up to Lima on Sunday and fly from Lima to Tumbes on Tues
morning. Tumbes is the northernmost city in Peru that has an airport. It is
about twice as much to fly up into Ecuador. Not to mention the additional
$25 international departure tax that is not included in the ticket. Don´t
you love how 3rd world countries get one last shot to squeeze some $ our of
you. It made a lot more economical sense, and I could catch a bus from Tumbes
to Ecuador and fly to the Galapagos. At least it seemed like a good plan.
But I should have remembered that this is latin America, and things are never
quite that easy. That evening, I treated myself to a movie. While I was waiting
in the cafe, a few locals gave me some really yummy red wine
bc they were celebrating someone's birthday and we made a few saludes. They
had a cool dvd with a projector next door for a screening of "Momento"
for the local college. Crashed right after the movie bc of the early morning
island trip.
Before I took off
on Saturday morning for the island tour of Titicaca, the owner of the hotel
asked me to write a note in English warning travelers about the strife in
Bolivia. Of course, I was happy to oblige and told as many touristas as I
could of what was happining in the neighboring country. It was about a 30
minute boat ride from the dock in Puno to Los Uros. On the boat, I ran into
some of my fellow survivors from Bolivia. It was a French couple that I had
not talked much to, but they were glad to see me. Some other people overheard
what we were talking about and I gave a little speech for most of the travelers
on the boat about our experience. I had
run into a lot of backpackers saying that they hated the floating islands
bc they were too touristy and did not feel very authentic. Yeah, they were
definately touristy, but I kind of dug them. It is crazy if you think about
how these people live. They constructed these islands made of reeds that rot
and have to be replaced every few weeks. The Uros people have been living
like this for a thousand years. It brings up the question of the fine line
of bt tourist site and a zoo. The Uros livelihood depends on the money brought
in by the curious tourists. They have schools, restaurants, and markets on
these crazy floating reeds. Some of it did seem like it was being staged,
but I felt that it is really how these people live. I saw some really cool
necklaces that I got for some gifts. The handicrafts there are focused on
the themes of the sun and the moon which are really big for the Uros and the
Incas. As well as Pachumama, the symbol for mother earth that many shamen
pray to. The islands are always being added to, replaced, and even float around
the lake! Another interesting fact is that they eat the inside of the reeds-
it tastes similiar to heart of palm. Our guide also discouraged us from giving
the kids any candy . Due to the isolation of the isle, they have never had
sugar there and therefore have almost
perfect teeth. I guess our parents weren't kidding us. Someone barked from
behind me "Hey mate, what happened to you?" It was the Kiwi couple
that from our bus that I had grown impatient with. I explained to him that
I was tired and don't always do so well in groups. He was cool with it. We
all took a ride on the reed boats that look like dragons. It was pretty funny
bc it seemed that the craft was going to capsize every time someone moved,
even the slightest bit. They also had a trout farm where the locals had imported
trout from the US. The trout aren't indigenous to the lake but seem to thrive
in the their new environment. It was a long three hour boat ride to the next
island, Amantani. This was going to be one of the more authentic experiences
I would have. As we were pulling up to the remote island, the local families
were waiting for us. The women had on flower print dresses with red and black
tops. The men typically wore boiler hats. The families were introduced by
our guide, and they began to pick the tourists that would stay with them.
It reminded me of when I was young and
the local kids were picking to see who would be on which team. I was by myself,
so I was the last picked with this British guy, Ricardo. Dario, our host walked
us up to his house thru cow pastures and crops fields. The
people of Amantani live very simply and just recently got electricity, though
they barely use it. There was a loom in the front and Dario's mother was weaving
an intricate rug. The room that we would stay in had a door
that was only about 4 feet tall. I guess the locals only use very small doors
because they are fairly short and it protects the house from the wind off
the lake. Combine that with the altitude and it makes for very cold nights.
I was a little short of breath, so when Dario and his wife Gloria walked in
with mate de coca and lunch, I was much relieved. Lunch consisted of potato
soup, potatoes, and yes more potatoes. Peru has thousands of
varieties of potatoes and we were going to indulge in at least four of them.
It was ok, but a little redundant. Then Dario and Gloria came in with some
homemade textiles that they wanted us to buy. It was a little
uncomfortable and they were asking way too much for them. They graciously
took them back and we went up to the main plaza to meet the rest of the group
for the hike. It was a hefty 45 minute hike up a well made path to the Pachatata
temple, on the highest point of the isle. Pachatata temple was pre-Incan and
dedicated the Father Earth that was only to be entered 2 days a year, the
winter and summer solstice. On the opposite hill, sits the temple to Pachumama,
which is rarely visited. The guide did a really good explaining the histories
of the temples as well as the history of the Incan cross which is actually
a misnomer. The temple ruins were not all that noteworthy, the real climax
of the evening was dusk. The sunset was as surreal as I had come to expect
at Titicaca. The arch of the temple framed the sunset as the golden sphere
sank into the blue lake. That evening, we had a little music and dancing by
our hosts. Some of the tourists dressed up in the local attire and they even
got me to dance a little. How can I say no to a little Peruvian girl? Dario,
our hosts played the drum and kept a mean beat. Ricardo and I stumbled in
the dark back to our room and crashed having a really cool metaphysical conversation
on India and food.
Sunday, we had eggs, potatoes, and mate de coca for desayuno. No wonder these people are so tiny. They are all mostly vegetarians, and eat only potatoes and rice. Walked down to the docks and said our goodbyes and thanks to Darios. I gave him a postcard of Portland as something to remember me by. He genuinely seemed excited by the jesture. We disembarked to the next island, Taquille. It was only an hour bt and the sun was showing off the crystal blue hues of the lake. The locals of Tacquille are famous for their floppy hats. The men wear red chullos (hats) to show they are married. As we walked up the hill, an American girl started talking to me who was originally from Olympia, WA. She had been living in London and was on her way to New Zealand, traveling with her Kiwi boyfriend. Not many Yanks move to London and travel that much, so it was good to hear. At the top of the hill was the plaza with a signpost for all of the great cities of the world and their relative distances in km. We met up with the other Kiwis and grabbed some fish for lunch. As usual, the America thing came up and I had to confront all of the usual stereotypes. That gets a little old after a while. We had to walk down 500 steps to reach our boats that were awaiting us. In the boat, on the way back, a local traditional Peruvian band got on board and played some tunes. After they had stopped for a spell, I asked them if I could play one of their guitars. I played my usuals and they were into it and started to play with me. We pulled off a bunch of tunes:Dusk in the Wind, Hotel California, and Wish You Were Here. And before I knew it, they showed me how to I play the quenna (Peruvian string instrament similiar to a mandolin). It was a blast. Got back to Puno and I grabbed some pizza. I was kinda looking foward to the 8pm overnight busride to Lima. Yes, I know I hate night buses. But this was with Ormeno, so I knew the bus was going to be really comfortable and have movies and everything. Watched the 2nd Harry Potter movie (in Spanish) and actually did get some quality sleep for once.
It was a twenty hour direct bus ride to Lima. I woke up around 9am and they had two movies on. That night, we had passed thu Arequipa and now had begun to travel on the Pan American Highway on the desert coast of Peru. We flew by the famous Nasca lines and Pisco without stopping. I always dread going to Lima and this was no exception. I cannot think of any redeaming quality except the fact that I would be able to go to a descent restaurant if I desired. Caught a cab to Miraflores and checked into Friend's House Hostel, where I had begun this trip at. I was craving Mexican so bad, I walked forever to find this Mexican place and the food wasn't all that good. it was real late so I got a taxi back to the hostel.
Tues, I got up at
the crack of dawn for my 730 am flight with Aerocontinente. It was a fairly
routine trip to Trujillo where we waited for more passangers, then on to Tumbes.
The humidity and climate was much different in this part of Peru. No more
coastal desert. It would be more like the tropics all the way to Ecuador.
While I was grabbing my bag from the belt, I overheard three Germans talking
about getting a taxi to the border. I asked if they were interested in sharing
the cab and they were down with it. There are no buses that pick up at the
airport. We would catch a taxi there, go thru Peruvian immagration and then
walk over the border. As we were walking into the office, the taxi drivers
were saying that there was no passe, on the Ecuadorian side. In other words,
another DAMN BLOCKADE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I just could not believe my ears!
I have come from one serious blockade to the other side of the continent,
just to get stopped by another. We also suspected that the taxi drivers were
trying to get more money out of us, so we decided to move on. The rumour was
that there was a transportation blockade about an hour away to Machala, and
we might be able to get around it, if we were lucky. The Peruvian-Ecuadorian
border was even more of a disaster than the southern one with Bolivia. Aguas
Verde is the town on the Peruvian side that faces Huaquilas, Eucuador, on
the other side of the river. You have to get another taxi there, walk across
the border, and within 24 hours go 3 kms more to the Ecuadorian immagrations.
It was really stupid bc the immagration offices were so far apart from one
another. We had to take all of our things thru this insane market, I felt
really vulnerable and was very happy that I had joined forces with the Germans.
We were able to get a taxi to the Immigration office and got the visas, no
problem. In fact, the officer asked me if I even wanted 90 days. Then we caught
a bus going in our direction. It should have only taken 30 minutes to get
to the next town, but it took an hour and a half. There were all of these
dirt piles that the bus had to meander around and take back routes behind
the major thoroughfare. Then things get even more interesting. No more buses
here on thru, so we had to jump into the back of pickup trucks for about 10
km. Then there would be a roadblock of rocks, burning debris, and tractor
trailors that would obstruct the road. We had to get out of the truck, pay
the 50 cents or whatever and walk around the blockade and hope no one got
upset with us. I would say we had to repeat this process about 7 times. The
locals were in the same situation as we were. As we moved onto the next blockado,
we found out that it was the banana farmers that set up the roadblocks. Basically,
they weren´t happy with the price of bananas and in order to increase
them, they would make it so they wouldn´t go to market. Effectively
shutting down southern Ecuador. We were the only Gringos in the area and there
were times as we passed over the blockade that I was expecting the locals
to throw something at us, but that never happened. It was kinda ironic, the
four of us lugging our heavy backpacks mile after mile on the Pan American
thru huge banana plantations. Ecuador had a banana boom
about 30 year ago and is one of the major growers of the popular fruit. It
accounts for a considerable part of their economy. We finally arrived in Machala,
the banana capital of the world, around 330 pm, only to discover
the only way to Gualaquil (where I needed to get a plane for the Galapagos)
was to fly out. It should have been just 4 hours bus ride away and now was
turning into another nightmare. The blockade had shut down the entire area
and would continue indefinately. That ws REAlly WHAT I WANTED TO HEAR!!! The
airport was a madhouse as we try to negotiate a last minute charter flight.
It was $50 that I did not plan for, but I did not have any time left to waste.
One pilot agreed to take us and said he would return in an hour and need the
$ up front. I insisted on only giving him $20 each, just in case. He called
about an hour and a half later saying he would be back the next morning. This
guy who worked at the counter stepped up and really helped us out. He spoke
really excellent English and got our money back from the pilot and hooked
us up with a flight for the next morning, though before he had said everything
was booked for at least a week. He guarrenteed us a flight out, and our panic
dissapated slightly. I was just exhausted of all of these blockades and wondered
when it would end! We went back inot Machala and checked into a cheap hotel.
One the way to get some dinner, we notice that there were more roadblocks
in town and there was a large demonstration on the main plaze. Oh no, not
again!!!!! Luckily, nothing happen with the large group and we crashed in
the hotel watching the Simpsons, drinking Club, the Ecuadorian beer that tastes
like Heinekin.
We were at the airport
promptly for our 730 flight although the plane did not arrive until 725am.
But I did not care as long as I was getting out that day. A important city
official just happened to be on the plane as well, so my German friends insisted
on letting him know what they thought of the blockades and his city. It was
stupid, bc at many of the the roadblocks, there were cops already there, not
doing anything. In town, there was also the miltary practicing drills, having
no intentions on interveining in the blockade, although it practically shuts
down the entire region! It ws like no one really care if they left or anything
could come there. We got off the puddle jumper in Gualaquil and I made a bee
line towards the TAME airline counter and just happened to catch a standby
plande for 1130am. The Germans and i exchanged e-mails as went our seperate
ways.
As the plane was taking off, I counted my blessings on thought of the earthly
paradise of the Galapagos islands that I was heading towards. I don´t
think I will ever feel the same way about a banana ever again.
Happy Trails,
Talbot