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The Things We Learned

Since we've gotten back to the US, we've been asked for tips from other people interested in taking a long journey. To make things efficient, we developed a lovely document of tips and lessons from our ramblings.

I posted it on Google Docs: http://docs.google.com/Doc?id=dftsb59v_3c6q7tt

On our way home

Nine months ago today, we boarded our flight from Seattle to London, bound for Capetown. In the intervening time, we've had experiences of a lifetime.

Watching a lioness stalk and kill a zebra on the plains of the Serengeti. Seeing a llama born beneath the ancient ruins of Machu Picchu. Paddling a swan across Lake Titicaca. Crossing the street in Saigon.

All these are memories I will carry forever. And of course, there are many, many more.

And beyond all the amazing memories, this trip has been wonderful for another important reason: It has given Erin and me a lot of time together. Literally, we have not been apart for more than a few hours in all this time, which is more than many people spend together in an entire marriage by our calculations. For this, we feel very lucky.

As we prepare to re-enter American society, Erin and I are both feeling ready. Travel has been wonderful beyond expectation, but it has also been a bit tiring. We're looking forward to sleeping in our own bed again, unpacking our bags and eating a salad. And speaking for myself, I'm looking forward to a good Q-Tip for a change. It seems Q-Tip quality really declines outside the US. Go figure.

I look forward to connecting with many of you in person in the days to come. We head to Buffalo on the 14th and then wend our way West, visiting family along the way. We land in Seattle on June 27th.

As they say down here in Buenos Aires, "ciao, besitas."

Some favorite photos

For those of you with limited time, I created a set on Treemo with 27 of my favorite photos. You can check them out here: http://www.treemo.com/users/brad/sets/43835

Solid like a rock

Throughout this trip, I have resisted a strong tendency to get scatological in the blog. I say “strong tendency” not only because my natural sense of humor drifts (stampedes?) towards the potty, but also because developing world travel commonly leads to discussions of an intestinal nature.

However, in deference to the dignity and propriety of my grandmothers – regular readers of this rag – I have explicitly avoided certain topics. Until now (sorry Gigi and Grammy).

With just three days to go until we board our flight from Buenos Aires back to the US, I have just (fingers crossed) emerged from a hellish week of intestinal distress. I will spare you the details, but needless to say it rivaled my experience in Laos and exceeded the Chilean and Thai experiences. Ah, the parts of travel not frequently covered in Conde Nast.

And lest I be accused of “only child” behavior, I must add Erin had it pretty rough too. Her bout hit in La Paz, where she saw only the inside of our Radisson Hotel room. Luckily, she emerged from the tunnel after a few days.

I, on the other hand, got on board for an eight-day ride.

We can point to no particular meal, no specific drink. But something in Bolivia latched on and refused to let go. We threw Cipro at the little beast and it only chuckled. Gatorade by the gallon kept us sentient, but the fever and constant trips to the “small room” made for a tough week.

Luckily, our apartment in Buenos Aires was nice and the cable TV had lots of channels in English.

Now that I am approaching human again, I have had a chance to reflect on this aspect of our trip. And frankly, if there is one thing I will not miss for a second, it’s the stress I have felt for the past nine months at every meal. Fine dining, street vendors, airplanes, cafes – they all pose risks. We never knew from where the next attack would be launched. We ate cautiously, but we needed to eat. And always, the risk was there.

I have not had a salad in nine months. I’m sure I could have eaten salads, sometimes, without problem, but I decided I would avoid them. Too risky. I have been dreaming of a Cobb salad for about three months now. I love a good, meaty salad with bacon.

So as we prepare to re-enter American society, there are many parts of travel I will miss: new experiences, beautiful landscapes, lots of free time to explore.

But there’s one thing I will definitely not miss: intestinal distress. Bring on the salad.

A really high lake

At almost 13,000 feet above sea level, Lake Titicaca is the highest lake in the world, I think. In any case, it's really high. Shared between Peru and Bolivia, we spent the last few days exploring its waters and islands, to our great delight.

Our exploration began on the Peru side, in the slightly dumpy town of Puno. Curiously, the town doesn't really feature the lake at all. In fact, it would be possible to be completely ignorant you are sitting right next to a world-famous destination, since most of the town centers on a couple squares about a 1/2 mile up from the water. Of course, we knew why we were there, so we made our way to the shore and beyond.

Besides its elevation, one of the things that makes Titicaca unique is the collection of floating villages offshore of Puno. Yes, you read that correctly. These little towns are floating on large rafts made of reeds that grow in the shallow parts of the lake. Existing since Inca times, the islands really do float. Walking around town is a bit like walking on a waterbed, without all the randy connotations.

As a curious aside, it seems evolution has dealt the villagers an interesting adaptation: They all appear squat and rotund. Not exactly obese, but rather round. I'm guessing hundreds of years and many generations of living on small, floating islands have resulted in people comfortable sitting a lot, weaving baskets, houses, boats and property out of reeds.

After las islas flotando, as they are known in these parts, we headed off to Isla Taquile a couple hours away by our very slow boat. On this solid, landed island, we wandered over the hilltops, witnessing another ancient culture dating back from pre-Incan times.

Crossing over to Bolivia, Erin and I landed in Copacabana. Sadly, string bikinis and tanned Brazilians were nowhere to be seen. On the positive side, there were plentiful swan paddleboats for rent. Given the opportunity to navigate Titicaca's waters in a swan, how could we resist? Erin swooned as I laid on my marital charm with the sun setting over the lake's azure waters, cold pilsener in hand.

From our Copacabana base, we struck out for Isla del Sol, the lake's largest island. Visiting pre-Incan ruins along the way, we hiked along the islands ridgeline for a few hours traversing from North to South. Between the altitude and namesake sun, I managed to develop an interesting tan line through my baseball cap.

Now sitting comfortably in the La Paz Radisson (our first US chain hotel), I feel we have seen Lake Titicaca sufficiently. Ringed by snow mountains, sitting under constant sunshine, the clear waters are truly something special.

Exploring condor country

One of the things that makes Arequipa such a gem is it's proximity to the Colca Canyon, one of the deepest in the world. Surrounded by 18,000 ft. peaks, the canyon is another natural wonder in the seemingly neverending list of Andean pleasures found in Peru. Intrepidly, we set out to explore.

Crossing a 16,000 ft. pass, we arrived in Chivay mostly unscathed. Sitting at over 12,000 ft., Chivay is the regional market town, which served as our base to explore the surrounding areas.

Before heading out, we needed a quick soak in the town's hotspring resort, La Calera. While the surrounding volcanoes can cause frequent earthquakes and ocassional eruptions, they also provide ample hot sulphur springs. Given the high, dry, cold climate, 104 degree water is a real treat. Soak on.

Fully pruned up, we headed out with our tour to the Cruz de Condors, definitely a highlight of the trip. It seems the Andean Condors like soaring on the thermals high above the Colca Canyon and the Cruz offers an amazing vantage point to watch the second largest bird glide overhead. At times, these massive birds (which can have wingspans up to 10 ft.) were so close they actually pooped on the woman directly to my left. As she wiped the correspondingly massive dropping off her head, I considered our collective luck.

Moving on from Cruz de Condor, we headed into the small town of Yanque where Erin had the pleasure of perching a massive white eagle on her head. What a day of avian excitement!

Now back in Arequipa, we definitely see Colca Canyon as a Peruvian highlight. Massive peaks, deep canyons, hotsprings, huge birds and friendly locals. What else could you want?

For video of condors soaring, check out Treemo: http://www.treemo.com/users/brad/channel/item/87028

Living la vida coca

Coming of age in the Reagan era, I was taught early and often to "just say no." While Nancy and I didn't see eye to eye on much, one aspect of her message did hit home: I avoided cocaine and all it's derivatives like the plague.

That is, until we arrived in Peru.

While I have known for a while that the coca grows prolifically here, I didn't realize how intertwined it is in Peruvian culture.

Before I go any further, let me clear something up: There is a big difference between the cocaine of the Reagan Era (known as blanca down here) and the coca leaf (coca), the ubiquitous product of Peruvian culture. As our tour guide so eloquently explained the other day, "cocaine is bad, coca is good."

In Peru, coca leaf is made into products such as tea and candy, and it is chewed directly. In all forms, it is said to possess medicinal qualities that alleviate the effects of soroche, altitude sickness.

And it is available everywhere. Every restaurant serves mate de coca (coca tea). Every corner store sells coca leaves and candy. When we arrived at our hotel in Cusco, we were greeted with cups of coca tea.

Until a couple days ago, I had not chewed the leaves themselves. However, with our tour to the Colca Canyon slated to hit 16,000 feet, our guide was strongly recommending everyone chew the coca. When in Rome...

Sadly (or perhaps, happily), the experience was anything but pleasant. Tasting a bit like rancid spinach water, my first reaction was an involuntary gag reflex. While nausea was one of the symptoms I was trying to address, I couldn't help consider the irony of the nausea I felt as soon as the gnarly leaves entered my mouth.

However, as I chewed I noted a tingling, numbing reaction on my tongue and cheeks. The closest feeling I can compare it to is Novocaine, which I suspect is derived from a similar product.

Other than numbness and nausea, I really didn't feel much else. But perhaps that's a good thing, since I also avoided headaches, vomiting and other common effects of hitting such a high altitude.

Now that I have experienced the gateway drug in it's purest form, I can honestly say I am happy to let that dog lie. Sure, the Peruvians worship the coca, but for me the experience was best left in the Andes.

Soaking up the rainforest

The Amazon. From Ben & Jerry's icecream to Vanity Fair's Green Issue, the world's most famous jungle is everywhere. Evoking images of towering trees teeming with wildlife, it's a veritable Garden of Eden, guardian of biodiversity, producer of oxygen and moderator of global temperatures. And it's disappearing at a rapid rate.

So given the opportunity to visit, how could we pass?

Flying from Cusco to Puerto Maldonado, Peru, we caught our first glimpse of the expansive forest below. Seemingly unending, the wide swath of trees was interlaced with broad, muddy rivers flowing inexorably to the sea, thousands of miles away.

One such river, the Madre de Dios, was our destination. Located in the heart of the Tambopata Nature Reserve, Explorers Inn would serve as our base of operations for five days of jungle exploration.

Stepping off the plane from Cusco, we could immediately feel a difference. In place of cool, dry air was an hot aerosol stew, more water than oxygen. To call the feeling oppressive is an understatement. I began to immediately sweat. Erin of course only glowed.

In town for less than an hour, I already smelled like an authentic jungle explorer. So along with our friend Catherine, off we set, upriver for a few hours until we landed on a muddy bank surrounded by towering trees. We had arrived.

Greeted with cool tropical drinks, I immediately took note of another aspect of jungle life: The panoply of insects swarming by land, sea and air.

During my time in graduate school, I had learned there are many more insects in the world than humans. By factors of ten. However, learning this fact is very different from understanding it. In the Amazon, we reached an enlightened plane of understanding. From the cockroach that jumped out of my toiletries as I reached for a toothbrush, to the nasty biting sandflies (or perhaps chiggers, I was never sure which), bugs are a reality of life deep in the forest.

Luckily, not all of them bite. I was constantly astounded by the array of multi-hued butterflies and moths circling frenetically. Led by our fearless guide Patricia, we set off to explore the jungle.

Wearing knee-high waterproof boots, we slogged through clay-based mud that threatened to remove our footwear with each step. Slurping our way forward,we covered miles in search of otters, monkeys, birds and other critters. And we were not disappointed.

Even with all this excitement, I have to admit I was ready to move on after five days. Our clothes had started to mold, despite our best efforts to dry them out. With a smell that could gag a mountain goat, I could see the baggage handlers in the airport grimace as they entered the six-foot stink radius of my suitcase.

Luckily our next destination was Arequipa, a high, dry city with plenty of laundry facilities. Jungle behind us, I am left feeling the Amazon is a bit like a sewer system: I am really glad it's there and I am happy to have an understanding of how it works, but I don't need to rush back again to visit anytime soon. As amazing as the jungle is, I really am a mountain guy.

South America´s first Socialists

From Che Guevara to Hugo Chavez, South America has a long history of firebrand Socialists. In fact, we learned this history extends all the way back to the Inca civilization, nine million people strong.

While Erin and I are as left-leaning as any other good Seattle progressives, the Inca form of government really had very little to do with our decision to hike the trail to Machu Picchu. Rather, we were looking for some fine scenery, good exercise and historic ruins. We found all this, plus a bit of political discourse thrown in for good measure.

It turns out ¨The Inca Trail¨ is really just a famous 46 kilometer segment of over 9,000 kilometers of stone trails the Incas built during their rein. And with so much trail crossing steep, mountainous terrain, the Inca needed labor. Lots of it.

Considering the work requirements, I lobbed a question at our fearless guide Bobby: ¨How did they get all this trail built through such steep terrain?¨ Whereupon came the history lesson. It seems all Inca were expected to work for the good of the society. This meant when they weren´t farming, they were building trails, temples, houses and myriad other structures that today lie in various states of ruin.

Yet the total effect of their efforts is still awe inspiring. During our journey, we found the hillsides littered with stone ruins dating back hundreds of years. Add in stunning mountain views with porters carrying our heavy loads, and you have the makings for an epic trek.

So while Machu Picchu is the most famous and largest Inca ruin, it is far from the only one. As we hiked for four days over mountain and through vale, we crossed paths with many Inca sites. In each case, Bobby would wow us with his knowledge culled from hiking the trail over 400 times.

One example of this knowledge is the following interesting aside: It seems Machu Picchu was re-discovered in 1911 by Hiram Bingham, who was under contract with Yale University at the time. In the process of restoring the site, Good Samaritan Hiram illegally exported 400 crates of artifacts that today continue to reside in Yale´s Whitney Museum. Needless the say, the Peruvians would like their looted treasures back, but Yale is balking. For all those Eli´s out there, feel free to suggest to the Development Office they consider returning the Inca artifacts to their rightful owners.

Sitting showered and rested back in Cusco, it´s hard to see our experience on the trail as anything other than life changing. It was that epic.

And now that we´ve walked in the footsteps of the Inca, I can´t help feeling a sort of kinship with them. What they built is beyond description. Especially, since it was almost all constructed on steep mountain terrain. Sure they disappeared without a trace, but in my opinion the Inca ruins stand as a testament to the sophistication and immense efforts of South America´s first Socialists.