Craig In South America

MACHU PICCHU

2006-07-15T08:17:00.000-07:00

Here are some pics of Machu Picchu. The more classic pics are on another CD - I took these on the second day we visited Machu Picchu.

IQUITOS MARKET

2006-07-07T08:19:00.000-07:00

One of the coolest things about Peru are the outdoor markets - Shipshewana like assemblages of fruit carts, butchers, bakers, and little shops selling nearly everything else under the sun. There is an energy to the street vendors and sprawling blocks of hastily constructed tables that is missing from just about every American city save New York or San Francisco. I could speculate why that is but I think the fact is just as basic and obvious as the understanding that America is no longer a communal place - we drive home from work in our cars and reverse the trend in the morning. Peru is still largely a country where people gather - they gather in huge churches, they gather in the many plazas, they gather at the beaches, and they gather at the markets when they wish to buy thing. At night, when the teenagers wheel out their iron carts of bubbling hot grease to make churros and crepes, the feeling becomes less like a flea market and more like a county fair - in addition to having the hot fried dough shoved in your face, you also have your barnyard animals wandering about, some for sale, some just domesticated and collared. Music - invariably Dire Straits or Rod Stewart or some other group or artist that last had an international hit in 1987 - blares from battered stereos. On some blocks, street musicians perform with their pan flutes and guitars.

The Iquitos market was the most interesting market that I went to in Peru. This is the case partly because Iquitos is a jungle town, and there is no difficulty in selling alligator tail or fried monkey arms (which I did not decide to take a picture of) or anacondas in a bottle. An entire row of the market is dedicated to the selling of jungle herbs and roots, and there was no shortage of American hippies, self-proclaimed "shamans" scouring the aisles for the next combination of plant derivatives to divine their third eye.

These pictures below were snapped during my last day in Iquitos, as I quickly walked through the market and snapped some pictures. It is difficult to capture the energy of a place in pictures, but hopefully some of these are interesting. Notice the alligator tail in one picture and the conchas in another.

KUELAP

2006-07-05T11:28:00.000-07:00

Information about the ancient mountain citadel of Kuelap can be found here.

Like many of the places I visited in Northern Peru, where there seem to be no other backpackers, I wandered alone through the ruins of Kuelap for over an hour without seeing another person. A bewitching, haunting place, and an incredible experience.

JUNGLE FUN

2006-07-04T15:40:00.000-07:00

IQUITOS

2006-07-04T06:12:00.000-07:00

HEADING TO THE JUNGLE

2006-07-01T16:21:00.001-07:00

Looking out on the Amazon River at dusk.

UPDATE

2006-06-14T15:58:00.000-07:00

I am alive and well in Peru. Unfortunately, I have found - perhaps predictably - that at the end of a long day of hiking, sightseeing, and eating delicious churros, I´m not exactly clamoring to sit behind a computer for a couple of hours and recount my experiences. I wish I were, because I´d like this blog to be a nice account of my travels. However, at the present moment I just don´t have the concentration to really get all of my thoughts down on paper (in code?) and at the moment I don´t see that condition changing. There have been other setbacks, as well, like finding most internet places ill-equipped to handle my camera, and then, negating the former problem, having my camera break during a camping trip. Anyway, maybe someday soon I´ll hit a wall and spend an entire day just relaxing and writing and checking the entertainment section of CNN.com. Until then, I´ll keep posting pictures when I can. Suffice it to say, I´m having a great time, though am occassionally bummed to meet other backpackers who have the ability to spend a year of two traveling throughout all of South America (losers, right? - I mean, come on, get a job already). But I´m getting some great ideas of where to go next - want to go to Colombia with me, mom? - and am meeting some really interesting people.

Below are some pictures of Bolivia and Lake Titicaca and La Isla Del Sol.

Coralie and I had the unique opportunity to catch a Lucha Libre wrestling match in Bolivia. We arrived in Copabana, a little village on the shores of Lake Titicaca, at 7PM on a Friday night. The event was scheduled to start at 8, so we grabbed a quick bite to eat and then headed for the town square. I had read about the women wrestlers of Bolivia in this New York Times article about a year ago and was not expecting the good fortune of actually stumbling across a match during my limited time in Bolivia, but I guess my karma was good for that day. Certainly one of the highlights of the trip so far.

The pavilion was dark so all of my pictures turned out blurry. This is as good as it gets, sadly. The women wear traditional dresses but that is the only traditional thing they do. They fly around the ring slamming into each other and pull hair, throw chairs, and everything else the men do.

To one side of Copacabana sits a steep hill, upon which the stations of the cross have been planted. Bolivianos from all over the country pilgrimage to the site and walk up the steep hill. Inexplicably, at one of the stations, parrots sit tied to the cross and try to talk to you. Spanish speaking parrots. Not really the best conversationalists in the world.

Ok, well, this is exactly what I didn´t want to do, but I´ll have to take a raincheck and try to post more pictures later. It´s taking about 10 minutes to load each individual picture, I have no idea why, and I need to be moving on out. Hopefully in Chachapoyas, where I´m headed next, there is quicker internet service. However, considering it´s in the middle of nowhere, I really doubt it.

I´ll leave you, though, with a picture of the sunset over Lake Titicaca. In the foreground you can see the motorcycle that Coralie and I rented for the day and rode around the city and through the hills, visiting ruins and such. Ah, the good ole days. Take care, everyone.

PERUVIAN POLITICS

2006-06-02T14:42:00.000-07:00

One more thing, while I wait for the bus to Lima. This Sunday, Peru will be holding their national election for president. Neither candidate can be considered positive for the country, and most people are resigned to the fact that whoever is elected is going to be a disaster.

On the one hand is Alan Garcia, a charismatic orator who already served as Peru´s president in the early 1980s and is roundly considered the worst leader in the country´s history. During his tenure, inflation soared over 3,000 percent. Before his term ended in a shroud of conspiracy, he left the country to live in exile. It is widely assumed that he had pilfered money and lined his own coffers during his time in office. The funny thing is that currently, Garcia is leading in all of the polls. Now, I know what you´re thinking - why would the people of Peru elect the worst president in the history of their country a second time?

Well, I guess the only answer is that American influence spreads further than Coca-Cola and Michael Hasselhoff.

The other candidate, Ollanta Humala, is a former military leader who was relieved of his post in the Army after attempting a coup in 2000. I think that in most countries that would win you a date with Monsieur Guillotine, but apparently not in Peru. His idea of a strong and united Peru is one in which the gays are killed, foreign corporations are expelled, the military is aligned with Russia, and a war with Chile commenced. He has ties to Hugo Chavez in Venezuela and Evo Morales in Bolivia.

To be honest, I think that Humala would make an awful president and would further ruin this already struggling country, but in a selfish way I am hoping he wins. The reason I´m willing to sacrifice the future of all Peruvians for my own flippant desire is because I´m actually a bit frightened that if Humala loses the election, he will declare it fraudulent and attempt to take control of the government through less democratic means. And I don´t really want to be around for that.

Luckily, I´m leaving Ayacucho tonight - in the 80´s and 90´s Ayacucho was the hotspot for Shining Path terrorist activity - and heading north before the election, where I hope things are a little bit more mellow. Even if things get dicey, though, I have my Swiss army knife and my water purifier. And let´s not forget that I once successfully participated in that proud band of brothers, the Webelos.

In other words, if it comes down to me against the world, I´ll at least know how to make a hobo hamburger in a bonfire.

So, well, you know. That´s something.

WWTRD?

2006-06-02T13:18:00.000-07:00

What would Teddy Roosevelt do?

Well, I just spent an hour detailing my trip to Bolivia and Lake Titicaca, and the power in the entire city of Ayacucho went out. I don´t really have the energy at the moment to retrace everything again and infuse my tale with the same level of devastating wit and heart-breaking pathos that I think we can all agree is certainly not becoming my trademark.

Tonight I motor back to Lima and then tomorrow it´s up to Huaraz in the north, where I hope to do some hiking.

When I get a chance I´ll post some nice pictures and a few words about Copacabana and La Isla del Sol in Bolivia, on the beautiful shores of Lake Titicaca.

AREQUIPA

2006-06-02T10:02:00.000-07:00

After the Colca Canyon hike, Coralie and I returned to Arequipa and fell almost immediately asleep, our legs and backs wrecked from the demanding hike that morning. The next day we woke early and performed our mandatory touristic duties by visiting a couple of Arequipa´s most famous destinations. The first stop was a museum that holds the frozen but nearly completely preserved remains of a young Incan princess, sacrificed by her people at the altar of an erupting volcano about 500 years ago. In Incan times, a limited number of the brightest, most attractive children in the empire - mostly heirs to highly prestigious families - were placed in special schools where they ate the finest meals, suffered through the most rigorous studies, and wore the finest clothes. They were treated like gods because their fate was to one day join them. When the time was right and the gods demanded it, the children were carried on the backs of llamas hundreds of miles and up staggering heights to the rims of volcanoes, given a strong sedative so the pain would not be too great, and then, in the midst of ritual and song, clubbed forcefully in the back of the head, their human life ending instantly and their spiritual bodies tranported to live among the gods. It was in this spiritual realm that the children were meant to speak with the gods and ask them to relent their anger on the people of the Incan empire.

The girl preserved in the museum, Juanita, was sacrificed to appease the erupting volcano Misti, an impressively huge mountain that had been spewing ash throughout the area around Arequipa for some time, causing agricultural and health problems for a large swath of people. Since mountains were gods in Incan religion, they assumed Misti the god was angry and demanded a sacrifice. They obliged by giving three of their most beautiful girls, and three of their most beautiful boys. Juanita was the only one of the six that holds the distinction of freezing almost instantly and, later, becoming unfrozen only two weeks before she was found, strokes of luck that aided in her excellent preservation. For a five hundred year old mummy, she doesn´t look half bad, and, as a matter of fact, even Bill Clinton apparently made the remark that "If I were a single man, I might ask that mummy out. That's a good-looking mummy!"

Unfortunately, we are all painfully aware of how lacking in discrimination Bill Clinton can be, and therefore his comment should be taken with a healthy grain of salt. Here´s a good article about Arequipa (and the place where I found the Bill Clinton quote) and here´s the wikipedia article on Juanita.

Later in the day we travelled across town to the Santa Catalina Monestary, a relatively huge complex that rests almost exactly in the center of the town. Created in the sixteenth century, the monestary was completely self-contained - once a nun took a vow to live there, she never left. Outside the monestary, Arequipa is a loud, busy, dusty and dirty place. Inside the monestary feels like another city completely, its orange and blue painted walls and narrow sidewalks giving the impression of a small Mediterranen village. Apparently, nuns still live there but are cordoned off in an area not accessible to tourists. Here are some pictures.

The monestary is filled with small courtyards, most of which contain an orange tree or two.

The orange and blue colors contrast really well in the intense Andean sun.

My uncanny knack for observation couldn´t help but notice that Catholics seem to enjoy displaying the image of Jesus on the cross.

Coralie cranes her neck to read the panels of some truly odd paintings.

The typical bed of a nun living in the monestary.

Outside in another courtyard, light filters nicely through the spaced columns.

Looking down one of the "streets" of the monestary.

Another street. So quiet and peaceful.

Pretty flowers in a window.

The white dome of the cathedral towers over the rest of the monestary.

LIFE GIVES YOU LEMONS, ETC

2006-05-27T06:50:00.000-07:00

Well, bad news. As I posted the picture of the red chair the other day, I copied all of my camera´s pictures to a CD. Now, unfortunately, no other computer will read the pictures on the CD. To say the least, I´m a bit bummed. But I shall persevere, like all great men. I´ve always considered myself a bit like Theodore Roosevelt - we come from the same stock, at the very least - and I know that not giving up and throwing in the towel is exactly what ole Ted would do. So that´s what I´m going to do. Keep on keeping on, as they sometimes say. The next time I post, I´ll have pictures of a beatiful monestary in Arequipa and some pics from the Bolivian women´s wrestling Lucha Libre match I went to last night. That´s right. Bolivian. Women. Lucha. Libre. The experience of that event just about evens out the picture debacle on the karma scale.

Ok, so, on Friday morning of last week, I took a bus out of Lima and started traveling south along the coast, passing a seemingly endless stretch of crumbling barrios - shantytowns of mud and brick houses, many without roofs, rebar sticking up like rusted flagpoles out of incomplete walls, sewage and trash in the streets. It was a sharp contrast to Miraflores, the swanky Lima neighborhood I had spent the past couple of days, but I imagine those barrios are a sharp contrast to just about anywhere. The landscape didn´t help add to the effect, as the southern coast of Peru is a desert coast. It was like the Sahara spilling into the sea, and a faint mist covered the entire coast, giving the effect of a sandstorm in the ocean. No vegetation, no green, and not even very blue skies - just lots of brown, lots of trash, and lots of old and deserted buildings. Not exactly where you´d want to book your honeymoon.

I traveled along the coast for about four hours to Pisco, a relatively unpleasant little town but a good base to see the Islas Ballestas, known affectionately in Peru as "The Poor Man´s Galapagos". The islands are notorious for being covered in bird crap, and were once mined for their excessive amounts of guano (literally, bird crap). It was an erie scene - we motored a few kilometers off the coast and came slowly upon a series of islands swarmed with thousands of birds. As we got closer, we could see the old remnants of the mining community that once harvested the combustible guano, a ghost town on the top of an isolated island, birds circling overhead and perched menacingly on every available perch. It was like if Alfred Hitchcock had decided to make "The Birds" a little less austere and little bit more like "Mad Max". All in all, it was a good experience.

I then caught a bus to Ica, sort of the Napa of Peru, a little town surrounded by wineries and bodegas. I didn´t stay long in Ica, but I did spend the day in Huacachina, a little desert oasis outside of Ica about five minutes. If I had planned better, I would have spent a night in Huacachina, but unfortunately I had already booked a ticket for that night to Arequipa, a twelve hour bus ride that put us into the city at around 8 in the morning.

I arrived in Arequipa and found a cheap hostel, then decided to grab a bite to eat and check out the Plaza de Armas - basically the main square of most South American cities. Well, I arrived on a Sunday and as I made my way to the plaza, I found myself walking amongst a great throng of people, all dressed nicely and all rushing to get to their destination. As I got closer I could hear the sound of drums and horns, and assumed that it was some sort of Catholic processional. However, when I finally got to the plaza I was surprised to witness a troop of paramilitary special soldiers, with machine guns tied to the backs and war paint meticulously covering their faces, marching in step down the main road. Behind them came a group of machete-wielding soldiers, carving figures in the air and shouting some sort of war chant. And then, behind them, strangely enough, came bounding along a group of small children, dressed in costumes and skipping erratically. Their teacher tried unsuccessfully to get them to march in step, but they did not quite grasp the concept. I continued watching as business leaders walked by, waving to the gushing crowd, then some high school students, then a church group, then some more soldiers. Needless to say, I was quite confused until later that day when I met a British man who has been living in Arequipa for the past few months. I asked him what the deal was with the procession and he just sort of shrugged and said, "well, Peru is a country new to democracy. In Arequipa, they believe that showing you´re democratic means having marches and parades and processions. You´ll see. It happens all the time."

And sure enough, every day I was in Arequipa, I was either stopped by or found myself carried along by some sort of chanting, singing, dancing procession. I didn´t have the heart to tell them that democracy means demanding lower taxes, not dancing in the streets, and since they were all having such a good time I´m not sure my words would have had much effect.

Later that day I met up with a girl I had met in the bus station in Ica, and together we decided to do a hike through Colca Canyon - a three day hike down into and back out of one of the world´s deepest canyons. They say that it is the deepest but in fact there is a canyon about 60 miles away that is slightly smaller. I´m not much one for details, though, so let´s just call it the deepest canyon in the world and be on with it. I really wish I had the pictures of the hike to show you, because the views were breathtaking. We walked through traditional Andean villages, the women wearing colorful dresses and hats, their small children wrapped in bundles behind their necks. As we passed by one house in a small village of probably 200 people, our guide pointed out a severed bull´s head hanging on a clothesline next to shirts and blankets, mentioning that it was the custom to do so in the area and that the head provided security and good luck. Well, of course. Of course it did. I mean, it´s a severed bull´s head. Hello, welcome to Obvious Town. What else would it be for?

On the first night, Coralie and I slept in a thatched bamboo hut on the property of some local farmer. Yardbirds ran about and a couple of angry dogs growled at us whenever we got too close to their little den, but it was an incredibly peaceful place and you could hear the sound of the Colca River rushing through the Canyon. We woke up early in the morning and hiked to our next destination, an Oasis in the middle of the rocky, arid canyon, and swam in a hole filled with water, what our guide called a "swimming pool". It was very nice, actually, and we spent the better half of the afternoon and evening just lounging around the pool and talking to other backpackers who were also stopping for the night.

The third day was the hardest, as we had to hike 1200 meters up the canyon wall and catch our bus back to Arequipa by 6:30AM. That meant we had to get up at 2 in the morning and climb using our headlamps, an experience that was actually preferable to hiking in the hot Andean sun. In that altitude, the sun is brutal during the day, so it was a relief to be able to do the hardest part of the hike at night, where if you stopped you got cold quickly. As long as you kept moving, though, your body stayed warm.

Ok, I´ve written enough for now I think, and I need to grab some breakfast. In the future I hope to not wait so long to post - that way I can post a few pictures here and there, knowing that they won´t be lost.

Hasta luego, mis amigos.

PICTURE TEST

2006-05-25T07:31:00.000-07:00

Later this afternoon I hope to write a good deal about the trip since Lima. Until I do, though, I want to make sure that I am able to upload pictures from the computers here. If it is working, you should be able to see a picture of a red chair in the middle of an empty lawn.

LIMA

2006-05-17T18:21:00.000-07:00

Tonight is my second night in Lima. Last night I arrived late and did little more than walk around my hostel, check my email, and pass out. The flight into Lima was fine, but as the plane left from Atlanta, I was filled with anxiety and was reminded of a trip I took once when I was younger, a weekend trip to Cedar Point with my parents and my friend Chad Lancaster, who I knew from school. We were both in fourth grade (I believe) at the time, and excited for the opportunity to ride the newly opened Magnum - at the time, the world´s fastest and steepest roller coaster. Anyway, as we inched closer to the top of the first peak, the gears clicking us closer and closer to the apex, Chad starting physically convulsing, shaking our safety bar and shouting with a frightening determination, ¨GET ME OFF THIS RIDE RIGHT NOW!!¨ Minutes later, we were shrieking in horror as our car shot around corners and through tunnels. Finally, it slowed and came to a rest and my father leaned forward and asked us how the ride was. Chad, who had previously risked his and my life by trying to jigger off the bar of our roller car, beamed an enormous smile and said, ¨We have to do that again right now.¨

As the plane left the tarmac, I questioned myself, thinking, ¨What the heck am I doing? Why? Will I know enough spanish to get by?¨ but already, after only the first day, I feel fantastic and am so excited for the rest of the trip. Luckily, I didn´t scream for the flight attendants to stop the plane and let me off before the plane lifted off.

Lima is an interesting city and reminds me somewhat of Instanbul. Meaning I am a pale man in the midst of a sea of brown-skinned and black-haired people, it smells bad, and there are lots of stray dogs meandering about. The people here are really friendly and just smile when I try to talk to them in my pathetic Spanish. They always try to understand me and so far I haven´t been shived for saying the wrong thing.

One thing I´ve noticed is that everyone here - and I mean everyone - speaks Spanish. I´ve even discovered that they sing their national anthem in Spanish. So, in my continuing quest to deliver freedom and democracy to these kind but misled people, I hope to teach them that only true patriots sing their national anthems in English. Can you imagine? Sadly, I believe it may be a tough row to hoe. Wish me luck.

I´m still trying to figure out how to post pictures, which may be a good thing, because all I really have to show you are images of stray dogs, old blind men, and crumbling cement colonial buildings. As my trip heads inland, I´m sure the pictures will begin to get more inspiring.

Adios amigos.

SEATTLE

2006-05-11T09:42:00.000-07:00

Last night I finally arrived at my brother and sister in law's house in Seattle. The drive along the western coast was beautiful but tiring. Though I could have driven along Interstate 5 the entire way, I took some scenic detours in Northern California and Oregon, climbing or descending various mountain ranges by way of near-constant switchbacks. Though the driving was difficult it was inspiring and more than once I marveled at just how enormous and varied the country is, and how gorgeous. During family vacations when I was younger, my mother had a tendency to see something particulary picturesque in the passing landscape, breathe in suddenly and quickly, and exclaim with a zeal bordering on spiritual discovery, "Oh kids, looook!" There were many "Oh kids, look" moments while driving next to green rivers in Oregon and along the rocky, misty coast of Northern California.

One thing I had heard from numerous people was that Northern California, beautiful and dynamic, was principally comprised of two indigenous natural phenomena: towering redwood trees and unrepentant, Lenin-loving, patchouli-smelling hippies. Seeing as how I had just spent close to three years in Los Angeles, possibly the world's most potent antidote to hippyism, I was excited for the opportunity to finally witness these strange creatures. If I were lucky, I surmised, I might even be able to interact with them in their natural habitat; peruse a farmer's market for saffron-scented incense or grab a slice in some organic pizza shop. Unfortunately, the denizens of Humboldt County who live in communes apparently do so further from Highway 1 than I imagined - further also (quite wisely, I must add) from the law. In fact, after stopping for a quick burrito at a Taco Bell in Eureka, I was disappointed and surprised to not only find no hippies making a run for the border, but in their stead a staggering number of hillbillies and rednecks; what one might more succintly call "hicks". Talk radio hosts often like to point out how Americans in different parts of the country are different, but I don't buy it. I've seen first hand that a great number of Americans, be they miners in Huntington, West Virginia or loggers in Crescent City, California, believe that the most appropriate way to celebrate your cousin's release from the county lockup is to wear your cleanest Yosemite Sam t-shirt and treat the whole family to a fresh box of spicy chicken soft tacos. Red State, Blue State - let's not kid ourselves anymore. The only State that really matters is Mental State and oh, my, how I do fear for our country at times.

Another interesting detour I made was to Crater Lake in Oregon. Interesting in that it's still extremely cold in the higher altitudes of the Cascade Mountain Range, and the park was effectively closed underneath towering, fifteen foot tall snowdrifts. Oops. The only way to view the lake was from the fogged window of a small, wooden shack resting somewhere on the crater's rim. Essentially, this is what I saw:

Not bad, but I'd rather have gone in the summer season and frolicked in the volcano's icy cold waters. Well, maybe not frolicked, but at least got my toes wet. You know what I mean. I would have dillied and dallied, or something to that effect.

The last significantly interesting thing I saw during my drive was upon my arrival in Seattle. I was stuck in traffic near downtown and in the lane next to me sat a large man, probably well over six feet tall, sixty years old, hunched behind the wheel of a tiny, two-door Honda Civic, smoking a cigarette and wearing a fully-pressed tuxedo and a perfectly looped black bow tie. It made me happy, because it wasn't me.

I leave for Peru on Tuesday if all things go well.

PERU POLITICS UPDATE

2006-05-04T18:48:00.000-07:00

This article is a bit disconcerting.

Fortunately for the people of Peru, I will be arriving shortly.

With me, I bring the promise of freedom.

Oh, and democracy.

STATEMENT OF PURPOSE

2006-05-01T17:28:00.000-07:00

Greetings! If you're reading this, you probably know me as a family member or a friend. Either that or you're a fan of my work as one of America's leading defenders and spreaders of freedom and democracy.

On May 16, I leave for Peru. I return July 19. Along the way, I hope to post some interesting stories of my trip, some pictures, and any updates concerning how much more free and democratic the people of Peru are becoming after the fortunate blessing of my freedom-loving American presence.

In addition, I hope to send many postcards of beautiful but democracy-poor areas like Machu Picchu, the churches of Cusco, and the floating islands of Lake Titicaca, so send me an email with your address and I'll send one off to you faster than you can say, "Operation Enduring Freedom".

I hope all of you are well, and I really look forward to your being able to read about how awesome my trip is going to be.