Copacabana and Lago Titicaca

November 1st - 3rd

Copacabana rests directly on Lago Titicaca, so descending into the shore area of the town provided beautiful views of the lanchas rocking gently on the water with the setting sun as a backdrop. Almost worth the entry fee already! We stumbled upon Hostal Elenita, a relatively rundown family home that provided beautiful views of the harbor, a semi-functioning television with more than one channel, and bedbug-free enveloping beds (similar to air mattresses that fold up around you from every direction). As we walked up the main street, memories came back slowly of visiting the former lounge cafe with fantastic live blues and jazz. Though that cafe had closed, we found a nice restaurant that provided us with three courses for less than $4. Done! We even had some entertainment as a gentleman jammed out on his guitar and played a mix of originals and covers.


Quality! Please note the toddler-sized area of sinkage in the middle of the bed.

We woke up early the next morning in order to catch a boat out to Isla del Sol, a very significant island in the Incan culture and, myth has it, the origin of Manco Capac, the son of Inti, the Andean diety known as the sun. In essence, it is a beautiful island with a hiking pathway running across the 9-km island that sits at 4000 meters above sea level. Any activity at this altitude is taxing, especially hiking. We keep wondering why we do this to ourselves, but once we begin the experience, we are instantly reminded each slow step of the way. The trek commenced on the north side of the island in the small pueblo, Challapampa, where we fueled up with street-side egg 'n cheese sandwiches before heading out across the shoreline and up the first noticeable ascent. In order to enjoy the walk even more (and to allow ourselves time to catch our breaths), we let the majority of tourists from our boat pass us so we could distance ourselves from the masses and take our jumping pictures in peace.


View near the docks in Challapampa, the starting point of our trek.




Very simply, a hysterical picture.

Hannah and I did a bit of rock climbing to capture some pictures inside a circular indention of the near vertical rock face that lined the trail for a few hundred meters. The first part of the trek makes a gradual loop running along the edges of the island, providing frequent opportunities to appreciate the many vantage points that looked out over the lake for miles. We passed a small set of ruins which showed a similar layout to that of certain areas in Machu Picchu. After some unintentional games of hide-and-seek throughout the ruins, we headed up the pathway along the spine of the island – a very dry, desert-esque landscape for the majority of the “inland” trekking, though all set against the background of sapphire and blue waters. The entire trek was relatively quiet and reflective (mainly because talked required excess oxygen), minus the frequent toll-collectors who always managed to affect our zen-ness.







The final portion of the hike took us through the town of Yumani (on the south side of the island) and down to the docks, where the remaining two boats headed for Copacabana sat. In order to save time and money, a favorite pastime of ours, we decided to hop on the boat and return to town so we could then take an overnight bus to La Paz. The slow boat ride home happened to be during some of the best lighting of the day, so everything appeared even more magnificent than we remembered.








Once back on land (no sickness = woot woot), we booked a bus to La Paz and spent the remaining hour trying to find decent street food, which came to form as yet another egg and cheese sandwich. Initially, the ride out of Copacabana was quite windy. However, just as everyone started to get comfortable and semi-sleep, we reached the “what-we-now-know-to-call-dreaded” river crossing, during which everyone had to deboard, pay to ride a lancha across the rio, and wait for a while on the other side for the bus to pass on a homemade barge-like form of transportation. While we waited, Hannah and I discovered a very cheap bag of imitation-Cheetos called “Chizitos,” which is how I would imagine Snoop Dogg refers to it. This was definitely one instance where you can say with great confidence, “cheap is cheap.” Reminiscent of salty, stale sawdust, it became quite clear that we had celebrated prematurely. Luckily, the “toilet bowl”-style entrance made by the bus as it circled into La Paz was a wonderful distraction from our failed snack attempt. As we circled into the city of lights, we could only smile – tomorrow, let the city adventuring begin!

Puno

October 31st - November 1st

Child safety, or really anyone's safety, is not a priority for most transport buses. It is all about maximizing the number of people you can bring for the price of one. Thus, on our bus ride to Puno, there were children everywhere! Most of them sleep on their mothers, but if there are too many, the aisle is the next best place. The woman on the opposite aisle seat from Hannah had two children, one of whom spent the majority of his time sleeping on Hannah's leg/feet and on the newspaper that was laid over a large amount of unidentified liquid in the middle of the aisle. At the bathroom stops, most of the mothers would hurry off the bus (without their children) and return with a very pungent carne/pork, rice, and bean combo in a plastic bag, from which they would all take turns picking small handfuls. Remember cringing while watching a baby or toddler eat spaghetti for the first time - smearing the tomato sauce all over the placemat before running their hands through their hair, on their shirt, and all over their face repeatedly? There is lots of that here. Also, another form of entertainment on bus rides are the salesmen, who board the bus and give a 45-minute speech about the importance of health and then only sell hard candies. Some sell tea or magic pills that “cleanse your body and rid it of toxins” (probably just laxatives), but many swear that hard candies will make you the healthiest being on your block.

We had a very rainy arrival into Puno that produced a magnificently full double-rainbow. Having traveled this far, Hannah and I have become quite proficient in the art of choosing a price and sticking with it until the other party caves. Since el centro was only 1.5km away, we decided 3 Soles (about $1) would be the appropriate fare. We walked over to some taxis nearby and began haggling – after two back-and-forths, S/3.50 seemed to be his final offer because “we had to pay S/0.50 to get into this parking lot.” So, we walked outside of the parking lot and caught a cab for S/3 to the center of town. Luck stayed with us as we found a private room with two double beds, its own bathroom, toilet paper, and towels for less than it would have cost us to stay in a hostel! The best part of the room was random space that jutted out from the main room, about the size of a toddler's race car bed, but inevitably had no purpose except to amuse us (apparently, pretty easy to do).


Once settled, we headed out to enjoy the Halloween festivities and watch all the adorable children in their ridiculous costumes. There were lots of witches, Spidermen, Disney princesses, Smurfs, and gory-masked older kids. Halloween in Puno is a very community-oriented event – kids trick-or-treat in the tiendas and businesses along the main drag of town. We treated ourselves to delicious dinner of a pepper, pumpkin, and tomato pizza, hot chocolate, and a mixed fruit salad for dessert! The best part – being on the restaurant's second floor against the balcony that overlooked the entrance, thus allowing us to watch the hordes of children that would cram into the establishment, their plastic jack-o-lanterns raised triumphantly in the air as they exited. Initially, the restaurant was not participating, but after about 30 minutes of consistent questioning by all passing trick-or-treaters, an employee finally ran out and bought some hard candies to appease the masses.



Aerial view of the masses in the entryway of the restaurant.

We headed towards their central park to observe the chaos and, after much observation, decided the winner of the “Best Vendor Capitalizing on Their Current Situation” went to those selling light up bouncy/massage-y balls and glow-in-the-dark devil's horns. Clearly, there is no rhyme or reason to most successes. However, the losing entrepreneur was quite evident – the men who hauled oversized lions and horses to the main square for children to pose with or on, and then would encourage parents to take pictures of their little ones with these “exotic animals” for a small fee. That was simply hard to watch. We were out there for about 30 minutes, and in that time, only one family decided it was worth the money to see their little flower sitting on a lion. On the walk back to our room, we saw the best outfit of the night – a mini-Michael Jackson (single white glove and all) being carried by his father.






Best tiny human costume...ever.

Apparently, Halloween is an incredibly taxing holiday...so much so, that Peruvians require a few more weekdays to recover? We discovered this the next morning, much to our chagrin. Almost all shops, except small tiendas (convenience-esque stores), were closed for this semi-unnecessary recovery “holiday.” Most importantly, that meant the Bolivian consulate was closed for the next few days, preventing us from saving $35 on their rather expensive entry tax. Visa fail! Making a split second decision at 10:58 to leave for Copacabana, Bolivia, we ran back to the “hotel”in order to check out before 11am. This is where having a travel partner is incredibly beneficial – one can pack at lightning speed while the other returns the keys and “checks out.” Being ER nurses, Hannah and I innately hope for the best but prepare for the worst. The same applies for traveling. So, when we boarded a bus of all gringos, within 2 minutes after settling in our seats, we decided the probability of our bus getting hijacked was exponentially higher than that of a bus holding mostly locals. Thus, we rearranged our important things accordingly, choosing inconspicuous hiding places for the cameras and Hannah's iPad, spreading out the money amongst our four pockets, two money belts, and four bra straps, and placing our memory cards in our security belts. We kinda feel like pros. Luckily, there was no need for that planning and the ride was quite uneventful. There was a semi-stressful border crossing due to our need to shell out $135 to enter, but the ride otherwise provided beautiful views of Lago Titicaca and the surrounding mountains.




We are finally in BOLIVIA!!! Excited to see what adventures lie ahead! Missing everyone back home!

Arequipa with Hannah

October 28th - 30th

The next morning, Hannah and I were once again reunited!! After some post-overnight bus decompressing (hot beverages, conversation, and then silence while enjoying the beverages), we hit the streets to explore more of Arequipa. Fueled up on an amazing fruit, granola, and yogurt almuerzo, we explored south of Plaza de Armas local shops...aka overwhelming row after row of similar/identical merchandise, from knock-off Puma sneakers to rubber bands, Hot Wheels to plungers. Of course, I was perusing the adorable newborn outfits...all in English? I polled a few vendors, “do you have any clothing with the writing in Spanish?” “Si, claro....uhh.... actualmente, no.” “Don't you find that strange?” “Ummm...” Though I never received a definitive confirmation, from the expression on their faces, they found it strange as well. We spent the rest of the day finalizing a white water rafting trip, eating yummy (and cheap) sandwiches, and meandering. At night, we found ourselves being thoroughly entertained while people-watching in the main plaza – kids racing to and from a fountain for the prize of big hugs and kisses from Mom, a band of men dressed in Shakespearean clothing playing a slightly more civilized mariachi-style music, hippie jugglers, and, of course, a bride and groom taking post-ceremony photos.

Sunday began with a casual 'eat cereal from a water glass' kind of breakfast before we left to explore Monasterio Santa Catalina. In operation for more than 300 years before finally opening its doors to the public the 1970s, it is literally a citadel within a city. There is so much open space inside the monastery that there are even small streets with their respective names and signs. The colors were so rich and vibrant, the courtyards were immaculately maintained and bursting with flora, and the architecture seemed to change as we passed through each cloister area. Let's just say there were quite a few 10-second timer photos. A very smart bride and groom couple were capitalizing on the beautiful, brightly-colored backdrops and grabbing snapshots at every turn. We probably spent close to 4 hours exploring the compounds and eventually exited about 20 minutes prior to our scheduled pick-up for rafting. Basically, we ran to grab a quick sandwich, power-walked/jogged back to the hostel, and managed to walk through our room door just as the bell of the hostel rang, announcing out ride had arrived. I'm pretty certain we have never performed a complete change of clothes (bathing suits and all) so quickly on the trip thus far...possibly in life.









Once all rafters were collected from their respective hostels, we traveled to the main office where, while changing into appropriate rafting gear, I came face to face with my arch nemesis: the wetsuit. After a few failed attempts to produce adequate chest rise once in one, I grabbed a larger size and spent the following 10 minutes trying to get out of the first one. As you can see below, once suited up, we looked goooood!! We received a semi-scary briefing about river craziness, basic commands, and what to do when you fall out of the raft. The rapids were mostly class III with two or three class IV sections along our route. At one point, they told us to get out of the raft and swim upstream to the other side. “And why would we do that?” “Es divertido!” Alrighty...a few things: the water (even with a wetsuit on) was a few degrees above freezing, we couldn't touch the bottom, it was very difficult/nearly impossible to swim upstream in class III rapids wearing our ridiculous getup (regardless of how good a swimmer you are), so we all ended up downstream a bit grabbing on to whatever or whomever we could to stop our downward progress. The guides kept shouting “up, up, swim up” and looked quite alarmed, so eventually, they paddled over to us and hauled our bodies up and into the raft while simultaneously shouting “rapido, rapido...es muy importante!” You know, this all could have been avoided if you'd allowed us to remain in the raft...solo diciendo. My fellow rafter pulled me onto the side of the boat, and as I was resettling myself into position, he pulled me in again – feet flailing and face smearing along the bottom of the raft until forward progress was stopped by his shoe. Oooookay. We picked up a couple people who had floated quite a bit further downstream from the “swimming” bit, both of whom looked pretty shocked. All in all, we had a great time with a great team and a very knowledgeable, experienced guide, Horatio. Plus, to round out a great tour, they provided hot beverages and cookies at the end of the route. We changed behind some propped up rafts, dried off a bit before riding back, and enjoyed the great views of El Misti and the pre-Incan farming terraces of the surrounding area that the drive provided.


Traffic jam on the way to the rapids.


We call these "irresistible sexy suits."


A shot of the river we rafted!


We survived the rapids! Those are the "yay, now we can tell our parents" faces.



Our rafting team, minus the guy on the right. We really have no idea who he is.


The remainder of the evening was spent taking “hot”-ish showers (literally, a shower head that stuck out from the middle of the room itself and thus, got everything in the bathroom wet) and enjoying felafels and crepes from “El Turko.” Tomorrow, we head to Puno, our last town in Peru!

Arequipa and Colca Canyon

October 23rd - 28th

Another overnight bus ride and a full album of Aretha Franklin later, I found myself in Arequipa, a flatter yet still high-altitude city lying between three very impressive volcanoes. I like this city though I don't know why - beautiful views, very intricate Spanish architecture-esque storefronts, and the amazing color each building takes on when the sun rises or sets. It could also be the many cafes full of amazing food that line every street. After walking around for a bit, I decided on a hostel for the first night and headed out to explore the town and simultaneously shop for Colca Canyon tours. Plunging 4,160 meters into the ground below, Colca is one of the deepest canyons in the world, second only to neighboring Cotahuasi Canyon. When you are in a town that serves as base camp for all adventuring in the area, there is a plethora of tour companies that run multi-day tours - most with the exact same itinerary. Though I know shopping is NOT a strength of mine, I never fully understood to what degree. Turns out, the worst imaginable degree of indecisiveness...ever. It is always fun to learn new things about yourself :) Regardless, after two days of perusing nearly ALL companies in the city limits of Arequipa, I finally selected a three-day tour of this beautiful canyon! The other decision I made was to change to a smaller hostel that was half the price - we shall see in the morning if that was a good move or not. Early to bed for the 02:30am pickup time for the canyon tour. Word to the wise: If you are arising at an ungodly hour, please, for your own sake, make sure to account for your current time zone when setting the alarm - denying yourself one full hour of needed sleep is simply unacceptable.




Literally, one of the most amazing sights of the whole trip!


Cutest pigeon-whisperer so far.


After staggering to the van and joining my fellow sleep-deprived trekkers, we were provided blankets and told to just sleep until we arrived at our first destination for breakfast. The rising sun cast a beautiful golden orange shine against the Nevada-like flatland, sporadically decorated with spire-shaped rock formations and dramatic cliff sides. Our breakfast was...interesting? Puffed Incan corn, olives, strips of squeaky cheese, and a quinoa/oatmeal drink. Yeaaahhhh. Within minutes, I found myself bonding with two Americans over similar confusion about our culinary options. Jonathan and Benji - both Vanderbilt grads, the former with a voice like Barry White and the latter looking like a cast member of "Reno 911" - became my hiking partners for the rest of the day. Following breakfast, we stopped at "Cruz del Condor," an area providing amazing 360-degree views of the canyon below and, if lucky, sightings of the Andean Condor (largest flying land birds in the Western Hemisphere). Though there were no sightings at the lookout, as we drove to the starting location of our descent into the canyon, we were surrounded by three huge condors who inspire you to attempt flying off the back of a couch, as everyone did in their younger, more agile years. As we began our 1200 meter descent into the canyon toward San Juan de Chuccho, we were immediately mesmerized by the crazy honeycomb and jail bar-like rock formations that littered the steep canyon wall. Things like this both inspire me to take geology courses and make me wish I had payed more attention in the high school version of this subject. At the bottom, while waiting for all members of the group to reconvene, we met Angus, a crazy character with a thick Lithuanian accent who we appreciated the whole trip. After a short but very steep ascent into San Juan de Chuccho and a well-deserved Snickers, we all kicked back in our respective hut-style dorms set amongst the beautifully vibrant colors of the surrounding flora. The rest of the day included stuffing our face with lunch and dinner like we had never eaten food before, watching a bee pollinate a flower for about an hour, and converse (Spanish only) with Jean Carlos (our amicable, young guide) and two other guides. Highlights: amazingly funny interaction in which my German roommates asked me first for "plaster" (Band-aid) and, after receiving nothing more than a blank stare from me, then tried "bondage" and received a light bulb "ahhh" amongst many chuckles; having an instant understanding with a trekker from another tour company and spending hours talking about religion, bucket lists, morals, family, and life in general. A long but GREAT day.




The almighty Andean Condor soaring nearby.



Trail companions Benji and Jonathan during a much-needed trail mix break.



Crazy, crazy rock formations. Seriously, HOW???




Jean Carlos, our fearless leader and guide.

In the morning, we did quite a bit of up/downing and learning about various plants and their uses before passing through the towns of Cosñirhua and Matay. In Matay, we visited a small, one-room "museum" that explained the local crops, cuisine, dress, and culture. After a steep ascent, we were given a lesson about condors and their significance to the people and the area by Jean Carlos, who definitely earned himself the "rockstar" nickname. For about ninety minutes, we descended toward Sangalle oasis, a huge, circular area of green in a seemingly bland brown/orange/gray/brown backdrop. The walk into where we were staying was very "Secret Garden"-esque - handmade stepping stones leading you between rows of beautiful flowers and blooming bushes to an open green field and our thatched roof bamboo huts! While most people headed to the pool, I "rested my eyes" in the comfiest uncomfortable fishnet hammock in that canyon. I love how hammocks seem to heighten your senses and increase your awareness of all life present in that moment. I got my cook on with Jean Carlos and conversed with the owners of the "hostel lodge" while helping to prepare dinner.



If you are sitting there and wondering, "is that raw meat and fish hanging on a clothesline," you would be absolutely correct.


The museum. All of it. Seriously.



Classic group photo - please take special note of our resident Lithuanian, Angus, stage right.


Descending towards the Oasis.


The Se...cret Gar...den (please read in a Bruce Springsteen fashion).


Now, when I was shown what this tour entailed on a flat, 2-D illustrated map in their Arequipa office, I was led to believe there was minimal physical exertion required for this trek. When describing the third day, I was told "you wake up, have breakfast, and go up to where you have lunch." That "up" she was referring to turned out to be a very steep 1100 meter ascent (at 3280 meters...aka, minimal air) to the town of Cobanaconde. The ascent was NO JOKE, required multiple breath-catching pauses, and found me gazing longingly at mules that sped past us carrying the smarter trekkers, who paid the extra $20 to ride up in semi-style (let's be real, you are still on a mule) and omit the four solid hours of extremely arduous hiking. Well played, mule riders, well played. However, reaching the top provided that instant sense of accomplishment one gets as they, through the whistling of their expiratory wheeze, gaze out as the sun rises over the second deepest canyon in the world. There is a very warm, comforting, unspoken understanding every trekker who crested the hill had with those who came before them - an awesome feeling. Worth it...100%. And it wasn't even 9am! Two more meals and lots of driving to the soundtrack of Latin hits and American '80s rock ballads ensued. Once back in Arequipa, goodbyes were exchanged with the Vanderbilt boys and Jean Carlos before a Skype with the family rounded out a pretty amazing day!



The true stars of the day...the mules.




The road back to Arequipa.

Tomorrow, Hannah joins me once again for continued craziness and fun!