Inca Trail – Day 3

We slept in until 6 AM, and the porters once again brought us tea shortly after waking us up.  Following breakfast, we climbed out of camp through the thickening forest to the third pass of our trip (12,073 feet).  As we descended, the clouds moved in and had complete enshrouded the ridge in fog.

We began our descent down the 2,000 or so well-polished steps, and the vegetation thickened. The plants became more tropical (bamboo stands, orchids, large-leafed plants), and the birds more colorful.  The descent was steep and grueling, testing my quad strength and slowing my pace.  The group stayed much closer together today, and I stopped often to rest and take photos of the stunning scenery.

We stopped at our first Incan ruin of the day and observed its terraces, irrigation system, and four holes carved into the smooth granite platform at the center of the site.  The holes apparently correspond to the four cardinal directions and also signify the southern cross.

About halfway down, we broke through the clouds and were treated to magnificent views of the Urubamba Valley, Wiñay Huayna, Intipata, and Aguas Calientes. Continuing downward, it was difficult to keep my eyes on the trail!

After about 2 hours of descent, we finally reached Intipata, which is about 10 minutes above the camp where we were staying that night.  Snacking on the terraces, and resting our legs, we chatted and enjoyed the views of the valley.

In contrast to previous days, we arrived at our camp at lunchtime. Because the camp is so close to Machu Picchu, Aguas Calientes, and the railroad in the valley, there were hot showers available for just under $2.  As we waited for the highly anticipated showers, we enjoyed a few beers (available in the camp store), and got a nice buzz, which helped take the edge off of 3 days of hiking.

After relaxing in our tents, we all walked down to the Wiñay Huayna site, the most magnificent Inca site we had seen yet. A huge agricultural and military complex, Wiñay Huayna is only 50% uncovered and is said to be shaped like a hummingbird, one of the Inca’s sacred animals.  Incidentally, Wiñay Huayna is also the Quechua name for orchid, which means “forever young”.

Wiñay Huayna was the highlight of the trek thus far.  After Ramiro (our guide) gave us an overview of the site’s history (it was discovered in 1941), Jeremy and I explored as much as we could in two hours.  Hiking into the jungle above the uncovered terraces, we found even more moss and bamboo-covered terraces in a forest that could have been an Indiana Jones set.  In the main complex, we traced the still-functioning aqueduct system from the stream above the site down through the agricultural terraces into the main housing/military complex.  Below this, and to the left, were even more terraces built into steep terrain.  The architecture of the dwellings was impressive, with indentations in the stonework for the posts, beams and floorboards of second floors.  And the views of the Urubamba River Valley, train line, waterfalls, and distant mountains were stunning.

In the evening back at camp, stars shown crystalline through the clear sky.  We said goodbye to and tipped our porters after dinner before going to sleep.

Inca Trail – Day 2

Our guides woke us up at 5 AM, bringing us hot coca tea in our tent shortly thereafter.  After a filling breakfast of porridge and pancakes, we departed for Dead Woman’s Pass, named because of its resemblance to a dead (or sleeping) naked woman.  Jeremy and I hiked ahead of the rest of the group for the entire way and Inez, the Swiss/Irish woman, joined us near the near the summit. Although the climb was tough and my thoughts were slowed by the lack of oxygen in the air, we ascended 3,000 feet in two hours, arriving at the 13,779 feet summit well before the porters! At the top—the highest I’ve ever been in the world—we took pictures, waited for 45 minutes for the rest of the group to arrive, and braved the bone-chilling wind of the summit.

Once the rest of our group arrived, we began the steep descent towards Pacaymayu (at 11,700 feet), our lunch camp.  Once again, Jeremy and I were in front, and we passed the time enjoying the scenery, and playing word games—naming musical artists, movies and beers alphabetically.  We finished our descent reaching lunch camp with time to spare, so the entire group took a one-hour nap in the sun on the sleeping pads, which the porters had laid out for us.  Waking up to clouds, we bundled into the lunch tent.

After lunch, Jeremy, Inez and I walked together to Runkuraqay, an Incan ruin which may have been an observatory and military outpost.  During our guide’s description of the site, it started to rain. Packing up, we ascended to the second summit of the day (at 13,123 feet) in steady rain.  Although there was a rainbow behind us, and the scenery beautiful, the going was tough, and my legs were aching. As we descended on the other side, the vegetation immediately changed, from scrubby paramo to lusher, denser, tropical greenery.  The flowers changed too—from alpine flowers to more tropical varieties like orchids and fushias.  Eventually, the rain lifted and we were treated to views of two Inca sites—first Oonchamarca, a small terraced storehouse, and the much more impressive Sayaqmarka, a fortress built high on a point overlooking the valley.  We visited Sayaqmarka, and saw a still-functioning irrigation system that carried water from a nearby glacier directly to the fortress, draining directly into a pool within the structure.  The views would have been incredible, but a lot of fog sat in the valley.  As we explored the ruit, it began to rain (again!), and a full 270 degree rainbow appeared over the fortress, continuing into the valley.

Although our entire group having skipped exploring the ruin due to the rain, Jeremy, Eric and I stayed behind for a while.  As we hurried to catch up with our group at the campsite, the vegetation changed further, becoming semi-tropical, with moss and bamboo (a small-leafed variety) appearing everywhere. Solidly in cloud forest now, we also learned that we were now on the main Inca Trail, with its well-worn, better-laid stones attesting to that face.

Our camp overlooked a deep valley, and we watched an incredible sunset from our tent.  During dinner in the tent with our group, I got to know our Cayman Island friends a bit better.

Inca Trail – Day 1

After sleeping sporadically for no more than 5 hours in the hotel Plaza de Armas (in the same bed as Selina for the first time in over a week☹), Jeremy, Cynthia, Sara and I met in the lobby at 4:45 am to check our luggage for long-term storage.  Still groggy and depressed that Selina’s sprained ankle would prevent her from joining us, we left the hotel and walked 5 minutes to Regijo Plaza where a mini bus was waiting to take us ad our porters to Km 82, the start of the Inca Trail.  We first bussed to Ollantaytambo for breakfast, which while overpriced and meager, gave us the opportunity to get to know Eric, a friendly Georgia Tech alum from North Carolina.  After breakfast, we stocked up on last minute provisions for the Inca Trail: ponchos, coca leaves for chewing, and sweets.

The bus ride from Ollantaytambo was a harrowing one hour trip down a one-lane dirt road that traced the Urubamba River and the Peru Rail line to Machu Picchu. The heavy bus traffic on this one lane road necessitated our backing for long distances around blind corners to let the other busses pass us. Given the width of the road, I was amazed that we didn’t hit anything!

After arriving at Km 82, we gathered our things and began our walk.  Passing the Inca Trail checkpoint required an inspection wherein government officials verified that our passports matched our Inca Trail permits (we got our passports stamped!). We took the obligatory group picture in front of the Inca Trail sign, and then began walking along the initial portion of the Inca trail.  Flat and arid, we traced the river for several hours, seeing several blue and gold Peru Rail trains pass. Flat-leafed cactus, dry bunch grasses, and scrubby trees with red pods (used for medicinal purposes and as a dye), were characteristic features in the vegetation. Although it was dry, several people remarked how easy the trail was.

After several information stops along the flat section, we climbed almost 1,000 feet to our lunch camp at Wayllabamba (at 9,842 feet). Conversations died down as people became winded, and we were all happy to finally arrive.  As we walked into camp, 21 Llama Path porters in their signature red tracksuits greeted us, applauding our arrival.  The porters had passed us earlier, burdened with tents, propane tanks, food provisions for four days, and our personal belongings, so we were shocked to find that they had not only prepared a hot lunch, but they also set up a lunch tent, laid out personal hand-washing bowls outside, and set a table inside complete with a tablecloth.  Inside the tent we were served huge portions of avocado salad, soup, and past.  Following lunch, we were personally introduced to each of the porters, and learned that several of the men were in their 40’s and that the oldest is 56!  Each of the porters carry 25 kgs, or 55 pounds.

Following lunch, we climbed another 1000 feet through thickening trees to our campsite for the first night (at 10,829 feet).  Though tough, we arrived at camp feeling good.  After washing up in the wash bowls outside our tent (which were filled with hot water!), I settled into my tent with Jeremy, then joined our group for coca tea and popcorn before dinner.  We got to know several of our traveling partners better during this time: a Swiss/Irish woman with Ecuadorian heritage, several couples from the Cayman Islands, and a couple from Reno, and Eric, from North Carolina. We were served soup (with spicy rocotto pepper), grilled fish, potatoes, and cooked vegetables for dinner.  Dessert was a surprise of flambéed bananas, served flaming in the tent!

Catch Up

The next several posts are a feeble attempt to catch this blog up before I start grad school.  I’m back in the US now, and survived an action-packed journey out of Peru.  In the last 4 days, a missed flight connection resulted in an over-night layover at a 5-star hotel in Lima, I came THIS close to being deported from Ecuador (long story), and after finally clearing customs, I became deathly ill an hour after arriving in Manta to pick up my bags.  Although I didn’t visit a doctor, the general consensus between my host mom, Selina’s sister Cynthia, and my dad (the latter two are dermatologists) was that I developed Typhus. I haven’t been so sick since I had appendicitis when I was 8.  The upside was that I was pretty much passed out for the entire flight home and overnight layover in LAX.  Fortunately, modern antibiotics work wonders, and after a few days of bed rest in Berkeley, I am as good as new!

Now that I’m healthy here’s a quick update on Selina’s and my travels between returning from Colombia in June and our July homecoming:

Quito

We flew back here after Colombia, and spent a few days getting to know the city better.  We took a daytrip with my Spanish teacher to Otavalo, which has a HUGE crafts market on Saturdays, and we spent way too much money on souvenirs.  Back in Quito, we explored the old town, and went to the Guayasamin museum.  Guayasamin is one of Ecuador’s most famous artists–his work is often compared to that of Picasso–and his paintings center on Latin American social issues and the human condition in general.  His work is very dramatic, and often disturbing.

Alusi and the Devil’s Nose train ride

Saying goodbye to Quito one last time, Selina and I took a day-long bus journey to the small town of Alusi, 3/4 of the way to Cuenca (in Ecuador’s southern half).  Alusi is a sleepy town that was once an important railroad hub, though it declined in significance after a series of natural disasters in the 1980′s and 90′s destroyed crucial parts of the Quito to Guayaquil railroad.  The only segment that is still operational is the famous Nariz del Diablo (Devil’s Nose), a steep zig-zagging descent down a thousand or so feet of rock face.  The main appeal of this trip for Selina and me was that we had heard that we could sit on top of the train to enjoy the stunning scenery, and until 2008 this was indeed the case.  What we didn’t know was that during that year, a Japanese tourist who was standing up to take a picture was DECAPITATED by an overhanging power line, and we were dismayed to learn that this unfortunate incident had spoiled the fun for everyone else.  Nevertheless, the views from the inside the train of the river valley below were still beautiful, and the train even stopped at several points so that we could take pictures.

Cuenca

After spending a night in Alusi (and befriending two cool University of Maryland grads), we took another day-long bus trip to the city of Cuenca.  Although Cuenca is Ecuador’s third-largest city, it is a fraction of the size of Guayaquil or Quito, and its beautiful colonial center also functions as the main downtown business district (unlike Quito, where the big corporations and banks have fled the historic center). Because Cuenca is also a university town, it has a diverse selection of bohemian bars, and restaurants, while the city’s status as an up-and-coming cultural tourism hotspot, fosters a thriving artist community.  Selina and I spent a week taking intensive Spanish classes at Si Centro Spanish school.  For me this was a great way to brush up on my already-deteriorating Spanish (you’d be amazed at the difference between “tourist” Spanish and using it in a full immersion setting), while it allowed Selina an opportunity to develop a functional command of the language.  Our week there allowed us to relax, but also take several side trips outside of the city.  Our trip to Cajas National Park was particularly outstanding–hiking through the mountainous alpine landscapes was stunning, and we saw many endangered flowering plants.  On a trip to Gualaceo, a small town outside of Cuenca famous for it’s naturally-dyed knitted rugs, we saw the huge number of remittance houses that have created a Latin American-style suburban housing landscape.

Bus Ride to Guayaquil

From Cuenca, we took what we thought would be a short, 4-hour evening bus ride to Guayaquil.  Although we got there in a reasonable amount of time, we were delayed for 30 minutes about half way through the trip.  We had been watching Taken, an intense movie where Liam Neeson plays a hit man whose daughter has been abducted by a prostitution ring in France.  The bus passengers were glued to the TV, and at the most crucial moment, when Liam Neeson was about to take out an entire house full of the villains, the bus completely lost power.  All the lights went dark, the engine and tv went silent and we coasted to a halt.  After a moment of confused murmurs, someone in the back shouted something and in an instant, EVERYONE was in the aisle, pushing and shoving towards the door, shouting things like, “Hurry!”, and “Move faster!”.   Not having heard the initial shout, Selina and I had no idea what was happening, but not wanting to be the last one off a potentially dangerous bus, I dragged Selina into the aisle and off the bus.  After 30 minutes of listening to the bus driver whack at the engine with a wrench while we waited in the pitch dark on the side of the road, everyone got back on as if nothing happened.  But as soon as everyone was in their seats, another commotion broke out: the bus attendant had neglected to turn the movie back on!  When he sheepishly poked his head through the door to turn on the DVD player, shouts and insults cascaded towards the front of the bus as he fast forwarded past the point where the movie had stopped.  After a few minutes things were resolved and we were on our way.

Lima

The next morning, we flew from Guayaquil to Lima. Although we hadn’t originally intended to spend more than a night there, we decided to extend our stay by a few days to see the city and hang out with our friend Sara, who has been living there for the last 3 months.  Although we hadn’t heard the best things about Lima, I was pleasantly surprised by the cool coastal climate (fog), and by the cozy, bohemian suburb of Barranco that we had chosen to stay in.  We spent two days exploring the coastal park system, the trendy and upscale Miraflores neighborhood, and the historic colonial center.  We also visited Chinatown and ate at one of Lima’s famed Chifas, or Chinese restaurants. As in the United States, a huge number of Chinese came to Peru in the 1800′s to build the railroads, and a large beachhead Chinese community arose in Lima thereafter.  We had heard a lot about the fusion of Peruvian and Chinese cuisines, and although the food was better than Chinese food we tasted in Ecuador, it registered as only mediocre by US standards.

Arequipa

After a few days in Lima, Selina and I flew to Arequipa, one of Peru’s most famous colonial cities and a popular stop-off on the so-called Gringo Trail.  Situated in a desert not unlike Nevada’s, Arequipa’s colonial center is striking and well-preserved.  Few of the original Spanish buildings have been torn down, and most are built with the sparkling-white sillar stone from the many nearby volcanoes. We met our friend Jeremy there, and toured several of the larger structures.  The elaborate and well-preserved 430 year-old Santa Catalina Monastery, with its rich orange and blue walls, was a highlight.

Strikes in Peru

During our time in Lima, we were alerted to the unfortunate news that civil unrest would result in the closure of the road between Arequipa and Cuzco during the dates we had planned to travel there.  Peru has apparently been experiencing a rash of strikes since February that are in response to a variety of unpopular government policies ranging from water privatization to expanding tourist access to native sites.  When people strike in Peru, they do so by completely shutting down crucial roads and highways, and so, after we arrived in Arequipa, we found out that it would be impossible for us to take a bus from Arequipa to Cuzco as planned.  Our only other option was to fly, but by the time our travel agent got back to us (4 days after we asked them to buy our plane tickets) the price to fly from Arequipa to Cuzco had doubled to over $300 (one-way)!  Shocked and dismayed, we deliberated for a few hours, but when we called our travel agent back, we found out that all flights to Cuzco during our desired travel window were completely sold out.  Apparently everyone who had been planning to travel by bus to Cuzco filled up all of the flights.  Not sure what to do, we abandoned our worthless travel agent, and found a tourist office on Arequipa’s main plaza who helped us book a 6 hour bus trip to Tacna on the Chilean border, and then a plane ticket the following day to Arequipa.  This expensive and upsetting episode soured our impressions of  Peru (and its politics), though it did result in us seeing the desert outpost of Tacna and its fabulous railroad museum.

Cuzco

After a long, expensive and exhausting trip, Jeremy, Selina and I finally arrived in Cuzco, four days ahead of our planned Inca Trail departure.  At 11,600 feet, Cuzco is literally breathtaking–we were huffing and puffing our way up its hills for the first few days we were there–though its setting in a valley is beautiful too.  From the hill-tops above the city, the sea of colonial red-tile roofs is enchanting.

On our first day there, we hiked to the Incan ruins of Sacsayhuaman, an imposing sacred site just above the city of Cuzco.  It’s HUGE megalithic walls incorporate perfectly fitted stones–some of which are 2-stories high!  The light hike to the site was a perfect way to acclimate to the altitude while soaking in the awesome Incan architecture.  Selina’s sister Cynthia and our friend Sara arrived later that day, and the following morning, we took a tour of the Sacred Valley.  Our day-long, private tour was supposed to include visits to the Incan sites of Pisaq and Ollayantaytambo, but we got to see Pisaq and and two hospital emergency rooms instead. After a very interesting tour of the agricultural terraces and ceremonial sites of Pisaq, Selina seriously sprained her ankle just as we started our descent down a flight of Incan steps that led back to our van.  Because she was in terrible pain, we carried her off of the mountain on an improvised litter, and then took a van back to Cuzco where she was seen by the on-call doctor at the local clinic.  The whole process of being admitted and getting an x-ray only took 30 minutes and $60.  On the other hand, because it was a Sunday, the clinic did not have a doctor who could properly read Selina’s x-ray.  So Selina and I rode an ambulance to another hospital where we were told that she would be seen.  After 4 hours of waiting in a very nice private room, we were told that no doctor could see her that day, so we left frustrated and without a diagnosis of whether or not Selina had sprained or broken her ankle.  (Cynthia, Selina’s dermatologist sister, determined that it PROBABLY wasn’t a break.) Moral of the story: don’t injure yourself on a Sunday in Peru!

The rest of our time in Cuzco was spent trying to make last-minute arrangements for Selina while the rest of us hiked the Inca Trail. Because there is no such thing as disabled-persons’ rights in Peru, we were concerned about leaving Selina behind. After running around for a morning, we found Selina a hotel with an elevator where she could rest and recuperate before taking the train to meet us at Machu Picchu.

In my next posts, look for a summary of my experiences on the Inca Trail!

An Introduction to Quito

Mid-April to Mid-May

I know I promised this a month ago, but it’s been difficult to find the time to catch up on my blog posts while Selina and I have been on the road.  Instead of an exhaustive overview of my month in Quito, I’ll hit on some of the highlights of my time there.

I arrived in Quito in mid-April after spending a month in Manta (on the coast). Although I love the Ecuadorian coast and my host family and friends there, I was a bit tired of the inescapable heat and humidity, and I was ready for the cooler temperatures of the Andes.  Fortunately, I got to know through my host family through my friend Adriana (Adri), who visited us in Manta several times during my stay there.  Although she has lived in Spain for the past 10 years and is working on gaining her citizenship, she grew up in Manta and then Quito, where her mom still lives.  When she invited me to stay with them for a month, I decided it was an opportunity I couldn’t afford to pass up.

After some consideration, I decided to forgo my original plan of volunteering on the coast and instead focus on perfecting my Spanish. So I enrolled in a Spanish program at Simon Bolivar Spanish School, one of the most-highly regarded in Ecuador, and caught a flight to Quito with Adri a few days later.

Flying from Manta to Quito, I grew increasingly excited as we flew so close to several snow-capped volcanoes that felt like I could touch them. Several minutes later, we were flying over the pine plantations, fields and greenhouses that lie to the south of Quito, which were soon followed by the rural houses and isolated suburban developments of the southern outskirts. As we flew over the city, we saw the vast urban sprawl of the poorer southern communities, the Virgin of Quito atop the Panecillo, the historic colonial center, and finally the Mariscal Sucre.  When we touched down and I was literally bouncing in my seat with excitement. Breathing in the refreshingly crisp mountain air as I stepped off the plane, I saw the giant Volcan Pichincha looming over the city and I knew that Quito would be one of favorite cities of my trip.

Living in Quito

I loved living in Quito and could see myself someday going back there to live and work. The city has a temperate climate startlingly similar to San Francisco (very appealing to me), is green year-round, and situated in a long narrow valley with mountain ranges on either side. These geographical constraints make open spaces very accessible–it’s possible to drive from the giant Parque Metropolitano on the western side of the city to the foot of Pichincha on the eastern side in only 10 minutes, and a system of parks and dedicated bike lanes connect the far-flung northern and southern areas.  Although these bike lanes are still new and few people use them yet, I appreciated the efforts of the city government to create a humane environment for its citizens. There is a lot of momentum (and support) for a subway to be built in the city, and given the government’s accomplishments thus far, I believe that it will eventually happen.

During the month I lived with Adri and her mom in their beautiful flat in the northern part of Quito, I fell into a fairly regular routine. My days started with a 20 minute bus ride to my Spanish school on the Ecovia, one of Quito’s four parallel Bus Rapid Transit (BRT) lines that connect the northern and southern ends of the city. Although the buses were always packed, they were faster than traffic, frequent (2-3 minutes between busses), and cost only 25¢ per ride. Even though I was usually wedged between standing passengers, I truly enjoyed every ride—returning the other passengers’ stares (at the tall gringo) never got old! Depending on the time of the day, I might see dapper business professionals (people dress much nicer than they do in the US), uniformed school children returning home at to eat lunch with their families, or groups of teenagers and 20-somethings headed out for a night on the town. I liked that the public transit system in Quito was so robust and widely used—another similarity to San Francisco—and I derived satisfaction in the fact that people of all socio-economic levels literally rubbed elbows during their commute.

Spanish Classes in Quito

Another unexpected highlight of Quito was taking classes for four hours each day at Simon Bolivar Spanish School.  Although I had taken one-on-one classes for a month at a tiny language school in Manta (only 8 students), the teachers were inexperienced, impatient, and inconsistent.  I also had to switch teachers every week, which significantly disrupted the continuity of my learning the language.  Although I could get by after a month on the coast, I still spoke like a gringo and my vocabulary was not where I wanted it to be.

In contrast my two teachers at Simon Bolivar were experienced professionals and absolutely fantastic. I was fortunate to have Sandra, the director of the Quito program during my first week at the school, who completely overhauled my pronunciation and taught me for the first time how all of the different verb tenses relate to one another.  After solidifying the foundation of my language, I worked with Cristobal for 4 weeks.  A very knowledgeable, friendly, and laid-back man, Cristobal and I spent our class time going over all of the different verb tenses but also spent hours talking about Ecuadorian politics, history, and current events (all in Spanish of course!).  When I left the school, I felt completely equipped to participate in Ecuadorian society: I could express myself fully to native speakers without feeling the frustration of not being able to communicate with them.  In contrast to my first days in Ecuador this is a hugely satisfying accomplishment.

My Host Family

After my classes each day, I would take the Ecovia to Adri’s grandmother’s house where the whole extended family would congregate for lunch.  Adri’s grandmother, Hilda, Susan, and Adri would come home every day from their respective jobs at 1 o’clock for a three course meal prepared by the house cook Soila, an elderly woman who also lives at the house and has been working for Hilda for over 30 years. As in Manta, the meals always started with a soup (Locro, Cream of Spinach, White Carrot, Viche, etc.), followed by a meat course that usually consisted of pan-fried pork, chicken, or beef accompanied with rice and salad.  Ever-present was the homemade aji, or hot sauce, which I put on everything.  Almost all of Hilda’s produce is grown organically on their family farm, which is 30 minutes outside of the city, so there was always an abundance of fresh fruits and vegetables.

Hilda and her family are very worldly people, and our lunchtime conversations almost always centered on current events and politics—two of my great loves.  From Hilda’s numerous travel experiences throughout almost all of Europe, the United States, Asia, and Africa to Adri’s mom’s job at the US Embassy, to Adri’s own experience in Spain, I couldn’t have wished for more interesting company.

Nightlife and Friends

In the evenings I usually met up with some of my friends from the Spanish school in the Mariscal Sucre.  Also known as the “New Town”, it is the center of business and nightlife in Quito. Plaza Foch, a modern European-style plaza, is the epicenter of Quito’s bar and club scene with crowds of people filling the countless restaurants, bars and discos that surround it.  We would usually start our nights at a hole in the wall that served on of my favorite drinks, the canelazo (made with aguardiente (cane liquor), passion fruit juice, and cinnamon and served hot), and sometimes move on to another bar or disco. Although the Mariscal isn’t the most authentic Ecuadorian place—it is known locally as “gringolandia”—I grew to appreciate its broad selection of amenities catering to homesick backpackers. Whenever I needed a break from Ecuadorian fare, Middle Eastern, Mexican, and Indian options could all be found in the Mariscal.

On the weekends when I didn’t have class, I went on several trips outside of Quito.  My overnight trip to a thermal Andean hot springs (Papallacta) with friends, and a trip to Baños, on of the adventure sports hubs of Ecuador, were highlights.  When I didn’t have weekend plans, I went with my host family to their farm 30 minutes outside of Quito to spend a leisurely afternoon on their terrace over the river while enjoying the company of family, a large home-cooked meal, and the organic produce from their fields.

In a nutshell, my life in Quito was filled with opportunities to practice my Spanish, explore, and have some fun. There is no way for me to recount all of my idiosyncratic experiences, but I hope this gives you a sense of what I was up for the month!

Bogotá (Reprise)

June 11-12

From Salento, we flew back to Bogotá for a day before we were scheduled to return to Ecuador.  Originally we hadn’t planned on spending any more time in Bogotá, but a dinner invitation from one of my grandfather’s former students caused us to change our plans.  Claudia, who now teaches anthropology at the Universidad de los Andes in the center of Bogotá, was working on her PhD at Berkeley for the two years that my family and I lived in the Bay Area during my childhood. We had had lunch with her when we were in Bogotá before and she was warm, enthusiastic, and filled with stories about my family and her time in Berkeley. At lunch with us also was Jose, one of her masters students whose wife is in the City Planning masters program in Berkeley (talk about a small world!) Claudia had invited Selina and I, as well as Jose and his wife to dinner, and we were looking forward to a home-cooked meal in a Colombian home.

We arrived in Bogotá in the early afternoon, and spent the time exploring a new part of the city around our hostel. When it was time to go, our hostel called a cab for us (hailing cabs on the street in Bogotá is considered dangerous) and we were off to Claudia’s flat.

We arrived at modern high-rise building in a very posh neighborhood, and gave the building security guard Claudia’s name.  A minute later, we got off the elevator and were greeted in the hall by her daughter, a wide-eyed 8 year old.  (We later learned that she was wide eyed because Claudia had told her that I was VERY short!)  The inside of Claudia’s flat was beautiful and warm, with rich wood everywhere.  She poured us some wine and we were quickly immersed in a conversation about our travels, architecture, life in Colombia, and of course, Berkeley.  Jose and his wife arrived a short time later and we enjoyed a nice dinner together.

Afterward, Jose invited us to a party in the north of Bogota that one of his artist friends was having.  Although we were tired, we decided to take the opportunity to meet some more Colombians, and we spent the evening in his friend’s flat which had beautiful views of the city. When we arrived at the party, I was amazed at how quickly the conversation shifted to English, and how welcoming they were of the two foreigners.  Quite a worldly bunch, there were two guys from Lima (who kept the party going with several bottles of Pisco which we drank straight), a hilarious guy who studied at Oxford but whose friends delighted in making fun of his terrible Colombian accent, several other guys who studied abroad in the US, and Jose and his wife.  We left the party at 3 am, exhausted, but delighted that we had met so many new friends!

Salento and the Zona Cafetera (Coffee Region!)

June 8-11

Following our frustrating flight experiences, Salento and the province of Quindio was a wonderfully refreshing place to recharge. Known for its industrious inhabitants (known as the “Yankees of Colombia”), Salento and the Quindio Province is filled with incredibly warm and welcoming people. These qualities combined with the stunning landscape made Salento one of the favorite places I’ve visited in South America.

As soon as we stepped outside of Armenia’s tiny airport terminal, the gregarious man behind the tourist information desk greeted us. We were the only tourists on our flight, so we had his full attention. His, warm, enthusiastic descriptions of the coffee region and Salento took our edge off, and we finally decided that we would shell out the money for the 45-minute cab ride to Salento instead of staying the night in Armenia.

By the time we had made our decision, we were the only people left at the terminal, and one taxi driver was patiently waiting for us to decide where we wanted to go. As we got into our cab, the tourist information man asked me a question about the taxi. Exhausted and slow, it took me five minutes to figure out that he was asking if he could ride with us to his house half of the way to Salento. After I agreed, the four of us piled into the cab and we were off along the tree-lined highway. As we drove, the cab driver and the tourist man played songs from Colombia’s most famous pop artists on the CD player, and answered our questions about the agricultural economy of the coffee region. After we dropped off our friend and neared our hostel on winding mountain roads, we were able to glimpse the silhouettes of the dramatic peaks and valleys of the coffee plantation landscape. We knew that we had arrived in a magical place.

Soon after we awoke following morning, we emerged from our hostel and began exploring the tidy alp-like mountain town of Salento. Although the air at the Armenia airport had been warm and slightly humid, the weather in Salento was crisp and sunny. It was a Monday morning, and as we walked by the schools, shops and workshops of the town I was struck by the fact that everyone seemed to be working, either at their shops or on their buildings. And indeed, all of the buildings were in excellent repair, with fresh coats of white paint and brightly colored windowsills and trim. The appearance of the buildings combined with potted geraniums in each window is strongly reminiscent of Alpine towns in Switzerland. Contributing to the affect are the lush green mountain pastures visible from much of the town.

After spending a lazy morning in town, we left our rather crowded hostel for a cheaper, nicer, and more central guesthouse called La Casona de Lili. This second-floor guesthouse only had four bedrooms, but the rough-hewn hardwood floors, charming kitchen, and eclectic music created a homey atmosphere.

After exploring for a bit, we took a 45-minute Jeep ride down the mountain to visit a small coffee finca. Jeeps are the main way to get in and out of Salento (they don’t have taxis), and most of them probably date from World War II. We found a lineup of them on the main plaza, and we were soon bumping along dirt roads out of Salento towards the warmer lowlands where coffee is grown.

When we arrived at the coffee finca, the owner, Don Elias, was waiting for us on the road. A friendly old man who looks like he stepped straight out of a Juan Valdez commercial, he showed us all of the steps involved in small-scale coffee production from cultivation to roasting while his grandson ran around. He began by taking us on a walk around his 5-hectare plantation, carefully pointing out the differences between the two types of coffee he grows. His two varietals (one bright red and the other yellow) mature at two different times of the year to ensure a constant supply, but they can also be blended together to create different flavors. As we talked, he demonstrated the proper technique to harvest coffee berries and pointed out how his banana trees shade the coffee plants from direct sun. He then showed us how he runs the berries through a machine that removes the brightly colored skins from the beans. After the skin is removed, the coffee is dried on a concrete floor for three days under a light colored canopy, and then it is ready for roasting. At this stage, the bean is still a creamy white color—the color of the bean depends on the roasting conditions.

Don Elias still roasts his coffee the traditional way, in a metal pot over a gas flame, though he says that he’d like to be able to process some of his coffee he grows for a botique market. In order to do this he will have to by a roasting machine, which is still a long way off for him. After he showed us how to roast coffee, he ground some of the finished product in a hand-cranked grinder. Once the grounds were ready, he handed them to his wife, who put them in a cloth bag and ran hot water through it while collecting the coffee in a bowl. We then drank the coffee out of two china cups in the kitchen with the Don and his wife (the Don drank an impressive amount straight out of the bowl). Sitting with Don Elias and his wife in the middle of their coffee finca was a magical experience, and it has definitely changed the way I look at my morning cup of coffee!

After returning to Salento by Jeep, Selina and I hiked to the top of the hill, to enjoy the scenic views of the city. That night, we had dinner on the main street, enjoying another cup of coffee after.

The following morning, we hoped to go to Cocora National Park to see its famed (and endangered) wax palms, but our trip was delayed by a late start to the day and the threat of rain. Eventually, we decided to go, clouds be damned, but soon after we hit the road in our jeep, the rain began. By the time the jeep dropped us off, the light shower had turned into a heavy downpour, but we hiked for a bit anyway, having the road to ourselves and enjoying the spectacularly tall trees. The wax palm is a fitting choice for Colombia’s national tree, a tropical tree for a temperate climate.

When we left Salento the next morning, we were sad to leave its friendly people and countless espresso machines behind. I hope to return someday to soak in the tranquil pace of life in such a majestic setting.

More Flight Problems

June 8, 2009

Following the advice of several people we’ve met during our trip, we decided to make the most of our time in Colombia by leaving expensive Cartagena behind and spending a few days amidst Colombia’s most famous landscape—the Zona Cafetera, or coffee region.  Eager to maximize our time there, we decided to splurge and take an early morning flight from Cartagena to Bogota, which would connect a few hours later to a flight to Armenia, the capital city of Quindio province. From there, we planned to take the 45-minute bus ride to our final destination, Salento. If all had gone according to plan, we would have traveled for half a day seeing a bit of Colombia from the air, while avoiding the 20-hour bus trip from Cartagena to Salento.  As it turned out, we might have been better off taking the bus!

Although getting up at 6 am to catch our flight out of Cartagena was difficult, we justified it by thinking about all of the time we were going to save by flying to Bogota/Salento.  Though slightly delayed, our flight got us into Bogota with three hours to spare before our afternoon flight. But 30 minutes after our flight was supposed to depart, the gate agent informed us that our flight was cancelled.

What followed was an unfortunately typical Latin American experience. Upon learning that we could take the evening flight (only 5 hours later!), we expressed our desire to fly the next morning since we had heard that Armenia wasn’t safe at night and we didn’t want to burn an afternoon waiting around in the airport. The ticket agent however told us that we would have to pay an additional $30 to change our reservation, to which we replied, “no way, we want to fly tomorrow without paying extra!” He then talked to his manager, who waived the ticketing fees after all—so much for consistency!

But by that point an hour had passed and Selina and I were so exhausted and frustrated that couldn’t decide what to do.  So Selina flipped a coin.  After landing on heads three times, flying that night it was.

Finally having finally made a decision we then learned that the airline would cover our lunch. Things were finally looking up!  As we optimistically followed him to the restaurant, we dreamed of the fresh sandwich or salad that might await.  But we were sorely disappointed when we arrived at Presto, a cheap Carl’s Junior rip-off, and were told that we could ONLY have a hamburger (without cheese) or a hot dog.  After some debate, I resigned myself to the hamburger and Selina managed to persuade them to give her a chicken burger.  But when my food arrived and I got a lavish BBQ burger with cheese. As I unquestioningly dove into my food and the waitress brought out Selina’s small hockey puck of a chicken sandwich, we realized the mistake.  Sure enough, a heated argument erupted in the kitchen and we received icy glares from the waitress for the rest of our meal.

The next five hours were among the most painful of our trip.  Too tired to think clearly, we made the poor decision of staying in the Bogota airport until our flight at 7 pm.  If you ever saw the movie The Terminal with Tom Hanks, it was kind of like that.  The one bright spot of our day was discovering that good beer DOES exist in South America—if you are ever in Colombia, be sure to check out the Bogota Beer Company (they had a branch in the airport and I had my first IPA in almost three months!).

After an hour and a half delay, we finally took off in a turbo-prop plane and 30 minutes later landed at Armenia’s tiny airport.  Because it was so late, and we were so exhausted, we took an hour cab ride to our hostel in Salento (not cheap).  Fortunately, the taxi driver was super nice, and I talked coffee cultivation and Colombian pop music with him until we reached our destination.

Cartagena

June 5-8

Originally, Selina and I had planned on staying in Bogota for a few days and then spending a week on the coast in and around Cartagena.  But after hearing mixed reviews of Cartagena and talking with two couples who raved about a small town Zona Cafetera (coffee region) called Salento, we decided to cut our time on the coast down to three days.  This ended up being the perfect amount of time to enjoy the romantic colonial ambiance of the historic center while developing a cursory understanding of the city’s history.

As in Ecuador, roads and bus transportation in Colombia are VERY slow.  To take a bus from Bogota to Cartagena would have taken 20-22 hours, which may have been an interesting adventure if we had several days to break up the journey.  But with many places to explore with limited time, we decided to skip the suffering and splurge on the one-hour flight to Cartagena.

Cartagena (“the heroic city”) was in its heyday one of the most important ports in the Spanish Empire.  Settled in 1533, its strategic location on the northern Caribbean coast of South America facilitated a rapid transformation into the main port from which most of the continent’s mineral wealth was shipped to the Old World.  Due to the huge treasuries of gold, silver, platinum, copper and emeralds stored within the city, it rapidly developed into an opulent center complete with churches, houses, administrative buildings, and theaters. The Spanish colonial architecture in Cartagena has a Caribbean flavor similar to that of New Orleans—balconies, old-fashioned streetlamps, handcrafted wood doors and wrought-iron window bars adorn the tidy, bougainvillea-covered buildings on the district’s narrow streets. The numerous horse-drawn carriages that ply the streets complete the romantic ambiance.

Also due to the city’s wealth, Cartagena was a target for pirate attacks.  Over the centuries, the city sustained six major attacks from French and British forces seeking to plunder the city’s resources. Francis Drake terrorized the coast on multiple occasions, once firing a cannon through the front doors of  the main cathedral, while the French military under Louis the XIV plundered the city again, using the spoils to finance the construction of the palace of Versailles. After each attack, the Spanish crown and the Catholic Church improved the substantial fortifications around the historic center.  Today the imposing city walls (built to prevent attacks from the sea) and a fortress overlooking the city (to prevent land attacks), are a testament to this legacy.

Although the historic center is filled today with cafes, bars, restaurants and boutiques, it has managed to retain some of its cosmopolitan identity. While upper class Colombians crowd its chic (and expensive!) modern bistros, the city’s numerous public squares allow Colombians of all socioeconomic levels to rub elbows.

In our last night in Cartagena, Selina and I took a break from fancy sit-down restaurants and joined the younger crowd, which was eating pizza and drinking beer on the benches of a public square. We quickly realized that the pizza and beer were coming from a takeout window in one of the buildings on the square, and that waiters would find us wherever we choose to sit. With electronic music blaring from the restaurant’s speakers, we ate our pizza and enjoyed the sophisticated, innovative atmosphere of such a historic place.

Bogotá!

June 1-4

Bogotá is an amazing city filled with surprises.  Although I should have guessed that Bogotá would be more than just a bigger version of Quito, I kind of assumed that it would have the same colonial architecture, concentration of churches, and striking Andean setting as Quito.  While it is true that Bogotá shares many these characteristics, it feels a bit rougher around the edges, a bit hipper than other Latin American cities. Just as Quito’s conservative politics are reflected in its tidy and freshly painted buildings, Bogotá’s well-educated populace and socially liberal bent is expressed through its remarkable graffiti and public art.  Although a lot of the graffiti is gang-related, more seems to be artistic in nature.  From the wall murals to political stencil art, the graffiti in Bogotá has a hipsterish feel, of underground guerilla artists attempting to lay claim to a piece of public space.

Bogotá’s urban form is also much more like that of an American city than Quito, due in part to its earlier development. The abundance of modern high rises from the late 40’s and 50’s in the downtown points to an early economic boom.  Art deco and minimalist buildings, with their clean, curving lines, stand side by side with Spanish colonial structures.

Following this boom (and the urban riots which followed the assassination of a populist Colombian president in 1948) the downtown suffered a long period of neglect and decay as new development moved to the suburbs. The newest real estate boom is evident along the expressway to the airport—gleaming American-style corporate business campuses for General Motors, Avianca, Carrefour, Mercedes, and others line the route, complete with massive parking lots.  Although a well-used bikeway down the center of the expressway suggests alternative development ideologies, it is clear that the car is king.

On the other hand, downtown Bogotá and the historic center is experiencing a bit of a renaissance, as artists, academic institutions, small business owners and young professionals have taken an interest in restoring the historic center.  A profusion of hip hole-in-the-wall bars and restaurants are tied together by recent pedestrian improvements to the main corridors—widened sidewalks, bus-only roads, and new pedestrian plazas are heavily used.

Selina and I choose to stay in the historic center, also known as La Candelaria, and after a somewhat disastrous night in a hostel (overpriced, smelly bathroom, insular party atmosphere), we ended up in a cheap, clean hotel a block away owned by a friendly Colombian couple. Below the hotel there are a couple of popular bars, as well as a fantastic arepa place.  Arepas are kind of like El Salvadorian papusas (think a THICK corn tortilla), but filled with anything from cheese to sautéed calamari. At 50¢ each, they make for a delicious, filling snack.  Also nearby is a great bookstore, kind of like Cody’s used to be, that had everything in Spanish that you could possibly want (with quite a number of English titles as well).

We spent a few days wandering the historic center, drinking lots of coffee and exploring the famous Gold Museum, which contains countless pieces of indigenous gold work from various cultures in South America.  The city also has a cable car that runs to the top of Montserrat, the mountain that overlooks the city.  At the top there are immaculate gardens, a 400 year old church, and two beautiful restaurants perched on the side of the mountain.  The panorama of the city on one side and the verdant Andes on the other is spectacular.

I ended up liking Bogotá much more than I thought I would, and I look forward to going back soon.  The city has much more to offer than 3 days allows!