Saturday, June 27, 2009

Up, up and frozen

Bolivia used to be known as ‘High Peru’ and seeing as how Peru is not exactly without it’s mountains that should tell you something.  We also added a few records to our tally.  We spent time in the highest capital city in the world – La Paz, avoided the highest city in the world and achieved a personal best for high altitude sleeping at 4378m.  

La Paz is in a spectacular setting for a city, sprawling down a valley with views of snow capped mountains that top 6000m in the background.   The city itself was apparently one giant market.  There are the specific markets like the black market, or the witches market but every road is filled with stalls and sellers.  The witches market was a little creepy as the shops were adorned with dried llama fetuses, and some that looked like dried llamas as they were a lot bigger and covered with fur.  We enjoyed stolling through the shoe market, the clothes market, the sewing market and of course the tourist market.  Knowing we were heading up from there we invested in some alpaca beanies and jumpers.  They weren’t enough however.  From La Paz we jumped on an overnight bus to Uyuni and even though we were supplied blankets and wearing every item of clothing possible we still froze.  It’s the one time we’ve arrived at a destination and no one has got off the bus.  It was still dark at 6:30am when we arrived and you knew as cold as you were it would be colder off the bus and without the provided blanket.  Around 7:00am as the street was starting to get light we decided to brave it.  Our only impression of Uyuni was that it was cold and after speaking to several travel agents about doing a tour through the Salt flats to Tupiza we decided it just wasn’t worth paying double the price to get there.  So frustrated and cold we found a tour leaving that day willing to take us and were on our way. 

Our tour to the salt flats was in a jeep which normally would seat five, but they stuck an extra row of seats in the back and we set off with 3 Brits, 1 American, us, the driver, the cook and the goat.  Initially we were a little perplexed at why there was a goat.  Our consternation grew when we couldn’t see the goat following the first lunch of some unspecified fried meat.  A couple of hours of worry were relieved by a cute little ‘baa’ and a brown, black and white head popping into view.  He was only 2 weeks old and gave us much amusement on the long drives between sites.  It’s also been quite amusing talking to people who were on different tours who tell us about this other tour who had a goat – we smile and say yes that was us.  As for the actual tour we were, in all honesty, slightly disappointed. This tour is the icon of Bolivia the must do, can’t be missed.  The scenery was spectacular but the amount of driving between the sights and the freezing cold temperatures (make that -20C) with basic accommodation – dorm rooms, no heating, no showers, not even toilet paper provided – were not necessarily worth it in our opinion.  If you were traveling between San Pedro (Chile) and Uyuni it would be fabulous and must do, but as a round trip from Uyuni I think the one day trip to the salt flats would be a better option.  We were quite disappointed by how little time we got on the actual salt flats.  The first stop was the salt hotel and the surrounding area was flattened and slightly grey by all the cars and tourists, we drove through pristine  white salt with a curious geometric pattern on the way to the lunch stop.  An island with cactuses.  And that was it.  Not one stop in the middle of all that pristine salt as far as the eye could see.   Now I don’t want you to think it wasn’t spectacular because it was, but if you go do the one day tour and ask for a stop in the middle where it is truly mind boggling.

 

Saturday, June 20, 2009

The lake on top of the world

Lake Titicaca may not be the highest navigable lake in the world but there are not any bigger and higher!  Leaving from Puno we spent a day on the Peruvian side of the lake visiting the famous floating islands of the Uros.  The Islands were a sight to see, even with the shifting of the culture from isolationistic:- the original inhabitants moved to the islands to avoid imperialistic neighbors around 800 years ago and remained there though the rise and fall of the Incas, to the modern more tourist driven lifestyle.  The islands are made from large sections of reed roots 2m deep covered with many layers of reeds that need continual replenishment. The chunks of roots are tied together and also anchored to poles imbedded in the lake bottom.  Not only are the islands they live on made of reeds but so are their houses, their boats, and their souvenirs.

One aspect of their life which I found quite appealing was when a couple planned on marrying they were instructed by a special member of their tribe on contraceptives both natural traditional methods and modern condoms and the pill, after which they would live together for two years to ensure compatibility before permission would be given for marriage and children.  If they were not compatible they would go their separate ways with no ill regard from the community as they were never married.

We also visited Taquile island one of the four major islands in the lake, the community was very strictly run with codes of dress for the inhabitants ensuring that marriage status could be seen and if the individual was a leader of the community.  They are reputed to have the finest weavings in the Andes, but the work on display didn’t appeal to us the way the bright cheap works on the mainland did.  I will however give credit for their hats being woven close enough to carry water, though why not use a bucket I’m not so sure.

Crossing to the Bolivian side we looked out over the fleet of paddle boats and kayaks while relaxing in hammocks up on the hill.  If we were not at 4000m the temperature may have risen enough to venture in the water but instead we just soaked up the view.

 

 

 

Thursday, June 18, 2009

Collapsed bridges, protests and swerving around rocks

We had delayed our departure from Cusco by a couple of days hoping that the protests we had been hearing about between Cusco and Puno would cease.  But, they didn’t.  From our research it appeared we had two options when it came to bus travel.  A day time bus that was taking an alternative route and thus avoiding the protests or a night time bus that took the main route, but assured us buses were being allowed through at night.  Eventually we bit the bullet, flipped a coin and purchased two tickets on the day time bus.  Our bus was due to leave at 8am so we dutifully turned up at 7:45am only to be told that no, the bus was not leaving.  We were informed that not only had the protests not resolved as we hoped but that they were ‘muy fuerte’ much stronger and the protestors had damaged the bridge that the alternative route buses were taking.

 

We ummed and ahhed and approached every bus company, only one was still running.  Not sure whether ‘Tour Peru’ was telling us the truth or just collecting money with no intention of running a bus we decided to risk the ‘Libertadad’ bus instead.  It was due to leave at 9:30am so not too long to wait.  We started talking to our fellow passengers, most of whom were gringos – was it a bad sign that the locals weren’t taking the route at all?  Ok, there were about 5 locals on the bus, but normally the ratio would be reversed.   Whilst we waited we held the annual Cusco balance bar championships of which Lee was the undisputed winner.  At 10am, half an hour after we were due to depart we finally spotted our bus easily identifiable by the graffiti plastered over the sides indicating it had made it through the road block at least once.  The bus promptly pulled up onto the curb 100m away and we watched as animated discussions between various staff members were held around the bus.  We can only assume they were debating whether to actually go or not… or how much extra ‘danger money’ the bus driver wanted to go. 

 

Eventually all demands were met and the bus actually pulled up ready for us to board and after only 3 hours or so of waiting we actually started moving.  2 minutes later we promptly stopped again and a rumour was passed around the Spanish speaking passengers that we actually weren’t going at all and were now heading back to the terminal.  5 minutes later the rumour had changed to we all had to pay a 1 sole bribe to get through the roadblock.  Neither of these were accurate and after filling up with diesel we actually got on the road.  Just as I was comfortably dosing off cries went up along the bus – are we falling off a cliff?  Are we being attacked by the protestors?  In reality the luggage was trying to make a break for it.  One of the doors had popped open as we turned the corner and our luggage was strewn for 100m down the main highway.  Luckily we picked it all up again and set off again, now not only worrying about the roadblock but about whether our luggage would still be there at the other end. 

 

Around 1 and a half hours outside of Cusco we hit the first rocks and continued to swerve from one side of the road to the other avoiding the boulders for about another half an hour when the bus stopped and the engine was turned off.  Then the rumour mill started up again.  We could walk for four hours to the next town where there may be a bus we could possibly catch.  Our bus was going to wait until nightfall and hope to get through the roadblock then.  We were all going back to Cusco to get our money back.  Most of the bus were voting for the 3rd option, whilst the driver seemed keenest on option 2.  A few energetic types wanted to walk it, but when you’re only 2 hours into a 12 hour drive and don’t know how far it will be until you find another bus walking was not the top option for most people.  After a couple of hours though there was excitement, movement and we were all told to grab our bags and start walking. 

 

This is the moment when we found out Tour Peru had told us the truth – the bridge was damaged.  Although that seems a little like understatement to me.  The bridge in question was just before the main roadblock and it was obvious the protestors were not letting anyone through.  To prevent the use of the alternative route they had taken the simple measure of ripping up the wooden planks that made up the bridge.  The metal struts underneath were still there so that’s what we walked across with all our baggage in tow.  Feeling like laden donkeys we tight-roped across.  It turned out our bus driver had made a deal with another bus driver from Copacabana to swap passengers and pay some compensation.  So after only about 1km of walking we were able to jump on another bus and wait to see how far it would get us.

 

After 5 minutes we passed a bus that had not made it, turning one of the tight corners the undercarriage had separated from the rest of the bus and as we listened to the rattles and remembered that the front of our bus was missing we were not filled with confidence.  The alternative route was not able to be used by the bigger buses and we soon found out why.  The conductor was in and out of the bus helping the driver do three point turns around corners, dodge rocks, dodge the edge of the cliff and avoid driving into the 2m holes that the protestors had dug in the road.  By 5pm we were stopped again.  We thought just to pick up passengers, until we saw quite how many engine parts were being removed by the local mechanic.  We spent a couple of hours watching the drunks in the pub, buying some extra food supplies and trying to find a bathroom to use.  We watched as tour buses went past on their way to Cusco, with particular trepidation for the ‘Time Seniors Tour’ – picturing old ladies with walking sticks trying to maneuver across the metal struts of the bridge in the dark. 

It was also starting to get cold and we appreciated the bag with all our clothes we had put on the bus.  By the time we arrived in Puno we were wearing 4 jumpers each, a beanie, gloves and using our sarongs for blankets – we were still cold!!  It felt like being back in Banff but without appropriate clothing.  So after a delayed start, roadblocks, escaping luggage, a broken down bus and 9 hours of driving along bumby, windy dirt roads occasionally going over some of the rocks or into a ditch left by the protestors we arrived in Puno at 4am.  So what should have been a 6 hour journey under normal circumstances took a chilly 20 hours.  Now, we know we’re in South America.

 

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

Qosqo

You might know it better as Cuzco  but Qosqo is the Quechua spelling and finding your way around is made all the more complicated by the spellings varying between differing brochures, guidebooks, names on buildings and street signs. Cusco is a very nice city at least the old town or tourist district, enough so that we kept coming back between trips to Manu and Machu Pichu.  We got to experience some different moods of the city, once we got used to the fire works that are used for any large gathering or just to startle the pigeons we relaxed a lot more in our rooms particularly when trying to go to sleep, or when woken up by a particularly loud firecracker.

Cusco we saw as a sleepy town on a Sunday where many of the shops were closed and there wasn’t much movement around.  We saw the city bustling about it’s normal business of trying to sell the tourists, tours, massages, a quick shoe shine and enough paintings to fill the art galleries of Europe. 

But two events stick in our minds most, the first being a protest on the first day we were in the city, there were no taxis, but the police were present with large numbers from the traffic, the municipal police, the tourist police, and even the riot squad, all dressed very formally but with their gun holsters empty (Batons were still equipped however)  The rioters were seemingly without end as they stretched down the main road, businesses that were open firmly shut their doors before the mob reached them, the one store that failed to do so in time had fists of dirt and small stones thrown at them and protesters forcing their way in until the police stopped them.  But once the protest was over all the extra security disappeared quickly, except for the riot squad who had engine trouble, so after posing for a few photos while the engine was tinkered with ended up pushing their vehicle. 

The other event was the celebration of Cusco, of which we saw the first two days, the elderly dancers, and the under fives.  It appears that the majority of the inhabitants are required to learn their traditional dances as children many of which show themes that we guessed the meanings of, some we suspected demonstrated how they saw the Spanish when they arrived, others the relationship between men and women –men thinking they have control then ending up on their backside. 

Thursday, June 11, 2009

Discovering the lost city of the Incas

Of course, Machu Picchu can hardly be considered lost anymore, rather the expensive city of the Incas.  There is no direct road between Cusco and Aguas Calientes (the town closest to Machu Picchu) which means getting there is either difficult or expensive or both.  You can pay $500 to walk there, $60 to catch a train or we met a few real budget travelers who were taking multiple buses probably over a few days then walking a few hours to get there.   After paying $60 for the 1 and a half hour train journey we arrived in Aguas Calientes which is described as a horrible overpriced small town by the guidebooks.  Surprisingly we liked it and didn't actually find it that overpriced (double room with private bathroom for $13).  It is in a valley surrounded by mountains with a beautiful river filled with huge boulders.   We then paid an extortionate amount for our entrance tickets ($40 each) and a totally ridiculous amount for the 20 minute bus ride up to the actual site ($14 each).   

The actual day didn't get off to the best start.  We woke up at 4:45am to make it to the bus stop by 5am where we got in line behind the 100 or so people who had been lining up since 4am to get on the first bus at 5:30am.   At the top we joined the line to get into Machu Picchu which opens at 6am.  There are a whole host of rules for entering Machu Picchu - the problem is some of them are so ridiculous you know they can't be enforced and it's impossible to know where the line will be drawn.  You are not allowed: water bottles, walking sticks, food, backpacks over 20 litres and the list goes on.  Jason went to the bag storage section to store our food and checked that our bag would be allowed in, he was told it would be fine.  But the guy on the gate was not having a good day.  Not only did our backpack get rejected but so did bags clearly labelled 18 litres, 14 litres and some that could not have been over 10 litres.  Whilst Jason tried to argue his bag through and then went to join the growing line of those checking their bags in I did not see him let a single backpack into the ruins.  People argued, cried, cajolled, attempted bribes but nothing worked, he was in a shitty mood and determined to spread his mood around the visitors.  Part of the reason that this was all quite so distressing is that most people arrive that early to obtain one of the 400 tickets to climb Waynapicchu.   After finally getting into the ruins with a water bottle, wishing we had grabbed the food bag (most people carried in a plastic bag with food) we sprinted to the other side of the ruins to get in line for Waynapicchu.  We were about 230th in the line, but luckily 150 people wanted to climb at 10am so we were able to climb at 7am.  

On the hike up Waynapicchu we bonded with the other climbers as we struggled directly up hill, on steps with a cliff face plunging to the valley below.  The views were absolutely spectacular though and we marvelled at the workers that had originally trekked up the hill carrying the stones to build the grain storage at the top of the hill.  After drinking in the view of Machu Picchu and the surrounding mountains we returned to the bottom for a closer look at the ruins.  We didn't have our own guide but with the multitude of tour groups wandering around the ruins we would have been hard pressed to avoid hearing bits and pieces from various different tour groups.   The site is quite spectacular, both for the actual ruins but more for the location.   

Tuesday, June 9, 2009

Down into the Amazon basin

From Cusco we decided to do a week long journey into the jungle.  Manu national park is supposed to be one of the best places in South America to go to the jungle if you want to see wildlife.  This is mainly because it is primary rainforest (not stuffed up by man).   We were also traveling with the cheapest tour we could find so the accommodation was definitely rustic - lots of cold showers and surprisingly it was cold in the jungle, particularly after dark.  

It is however a bit of a trek to get there.   The journey was broken up visiting pre-Incan tombs, spotting the 'cock of the rock' and seeing our first monkeys.  After the first 7 hours on the bus we reached the edge of Manu National Park, but it would be nearly 2 more days (mostly by boat) before we entered the reserved zone (which is pristine rainforest, whereas the buffer zone is an inhabited area).  That's not to say we didn't have a lot of fun on the way.  As well as spotting some birds, monkeys, frogs and bugs we went white water rafting and canopy zip lining.  In fact the zip line was so fun we went again the next day!!   There were four zip lines in total getting progressively faster as you went.  The second time we went I was feeling a bit more confident and even went upside down!    

During the week in the jungle we saw 77 species of birds, 9 species of monkey, giant otters, black and white caimans, 3 snakes, frogs, toads, beautiful butterflies, a rhinocerous beetle, spiders galore and of course thousands of mosquitos and sandflies.  Unfortunately we weren't able to get photos of everything we saw as the animals were generally a fair distance away (the canopy was at least 40m up in the air) and under the canopy it was very dark and difficult to get enough light for photos.   There were also interesting plants to be seen, such as the walking palm (that can walk up to 10cm a year), the penis tree (yes, we have a photo of that one, so you know where it got it's name),  the garlic tree which grows totally hollow and amazing fig trees that create labyrinths of roots.  Then there were the ants, like the bullet ant which is an inch long and can paralyse a limb if it bites you or the army ants which native people use instead of stitches - getting the ant to bite them and then ripping the body off leaving the head and pincers to hold the wound close, or the leaf cutter ants which use the leaves to farm the fungus that they eat.