Salar de Uyuni

From Sucre I connected to a small dusty town called Uyuni. A town that was once utilized for the mining perspectives on the surrounding deserts, the town is now only a tourist jumping off point to explore the Salar de Uyuni. Tourists come to spend a night before leaving on 1-4 day trips of the salt desert just outside of this town. The Salar is the worlds largest salt flat, over 10,000 square kilometers of flat white hard packed salt. It contains an estimated 10 billion tonnes of salt, and local Bolivian salt farmers annually extract less than 25,000 tonnes. All of the salt in Bolivia is mined from this area, but the majority of salt mining is for lithium of which 70% of the worlds lithium resides in this desert. All the miners in the Salar are from a very small town just outside of the desert. Although I refer to the area as a desert it is really a lake, it is a complicated ecosystem. Underneath the surface of the Salar is a lake of brine 2 to 20 meters (7 to 66 ft) deep. It is covered with a solid salt crust with a thickness varying between tens of centimeters to a few meters. The center of the Salar contains a few "islands", which are the remains of the tops of ancient volcanoes which were submerged.  It was this very unique place that I had placed my expectations along with the sun moon and stars. I had been eagerly looking forward to this adventure my whole trip, and from people I know who had been here, and the things I had read I was basically quivering with delight at my arrival. Because I had read many bad reviews, and heard horror stories of the events that had happened on these trips (none of which I shared with my paranoid parents!) I had thoroughly researched and spent hours pouring over travel blogs and travel review sites to try and be sure I picked the right company. Finally assured I had picked the best of the best I booked my reservation. Sadly the combination of my expectations, weather conditions which had flooded the Salar making it impassible to get to some of the areas, and a guide/driver/mechanic/cook, who couldn't be bothered to do anything but the basic requirements of his job, the trip was a big let down. I could moan and complain about all the things that I was disappointed in, but there is no point. Instead I will tell you about the few highlights that my group and I managed to extract, almost to the chagrin of our guide.  Fortunately I shared the trip with a few really great people which always helps to make things more enjoyable. Our first big stop was the salt desert itself. Where we were supposed to stay 2 days on the Salar, with the exciting experience of staying in a hotel with salt furniture, sadly due to flooding we were only able to make it out on the Salar for about 1 hour. Here the open bright blue skies, at an altitude of 3,656 or almost 12,000 feet, and the bright reflective salt desert is almost blinding. The investing thing is because there is nothing to see beyond the flat white salt crust, which stretches to the horizon, pictures can be very creative. I happily joined the touristy photographers who do the perspective pictures. Nothing to compare size to, one can look like they are holding a friend in their and, or balancing on an oversized water bottle.  The group took pictures of one another while our guide sat in the drivers seat of the truck after a blatant no when we asked if he would take pictures of our group.  The miners dig the salt into small pyramids to dry for one week under the baking sun, as there is about 6 inches of water that covers most of the desert in many areas. Also the salt holds water so they must dry it out before transporting it to the towns for further drying and processing. Still standing water allows for perfect reflection s of the little salt pyramids.  It is a strange and beautiful place. From the Salar these trips utilize off road 4x4 vehicles to transport the adventure seekers through the desert to lagoons, volcanoes, strange rock formations, to explore the flora and fauna of the empty southern corner of Bolivia. The highlight of the trip (sadly because it was the only thing on the 3 day excursion that was done as originally planned) was Laguna Colorada, the red lagoon.  A salt lake fed from underground streams the lake is filled with a perfect combination of natural elements, red algae and plankton thrive in the mineral rich water and cause the lake to have a deep ruddy red-orange color. Perfectly contrasted large borax deposits cause white islands to dot through the lake. Rolling mountains and craggy rocky shores, the Laguna Colorada is home and breeding grounds of  the nearly extinct James Flamingo. Thought to be extinct in the 1950's a small colony was found living in the secluded hills of South America. They are still severely endangered, but you wouldn't know it from visiting this lake. As the Laguna is visited daily by heaps of tourists wielding cameras and wandering jaw agape and the surrounding sights, the flamingos allow you to get quite close, before casually strolling deeper into the water, aware that no one will follow. The lake is huge, covering 60 square kilometers (or 37sq miles), with a depth just short of 2 feet. Over 50 other species of birds that make their home here too. Not one to be a big bird watcher I have over 200 pictures of the awkward flamingos... Somewhere amongst those I am sure there is at least one "amazing"picture. We visited strange rock formations blasted into the middle of a sandy desert, from a volcano that could not been seen on the horizon. Strange formations caused by wind erosions left rocks that look like trees, or mushrooms. I thought one looked like ovaries, my English friend thought it looked like a dragon.... Just shows you what a medical mind does to you.. Plans to drive/hike to the top of a volcano, to look into the crater, visit geysers that are most active during the early morning, an island filled with strange cactus and a few other items were either skipped, missed, or rushed that pictures and opportunities were missed to experience the Salar.  I have every intention of returning and trying again. This time I will hire a private guide.. I'm looking for travel buddies. It is a strange and phenomenal landscape. I can't cross it off the list yet, but I will be back!!

Sucre - Bolivia

I had decided to fly to Sucre versus a 20 hour bus ride though twisting and turning gravel roads. I arrived late to the airport, and was quite stressed about possibly missing my flight. Happily the flight was late, and apparently everyone else on my flight was aware that these flights to this city was always late, and I was still the first to arrive. Also enroute to Sucre was the Sucre soccer team.  Louis introduced himself and I began an introduction to a sport I find terrifying to play. Think of me running, if I didn't manage to trip over my own feet, through a soccer ball, and other people trying to kick the soccer ball away from me.... A cacophony of broken bones would loom in my future. Louis has had a long history of playing futbol. He has played in Italy, Georgia in the US for over 6 years (equalling fluent English), And through out South America. Upon arrival in Sucre after more than an hour delay, he gave me tips and ensured I didn't overpay for my cab. Sucre is a beautiful city, and again I have discovered a self proclaimed "La Ciudad Blanca" - the White City. I find this city is much more beautiful than Peru's version in Arequipa. Smooth white stucco buildings often with low rivers tone facades at the base, oversized decorated wooden doors; intricate wrought iron balconies over look the roads and cover the windows of homes and shops. The city has earned its reputation of the Paris of Bolivia. The churches remind me of the Greek islands, with white bell towers standing tall over the streets. The main square is filled with palm and jaricanda trees. Benches hide in the shade of the trees attracting tourists and locals alike to sit and watch the world walk by. In Latin America the city seems to revolve around the main square. People come here to relax, let their children play, or walk their dogs. Shops, businesses and restaurants are all attracted to the area for the high volume of passer-bys. As my life long quota for rice, potatoes and quinoa has been met I keep trying to find new food and expand my horizons. I decided it was finally time for Che-fa. Che-fa is the South American version of Chinese food. Run by Chinese immigrants it really isnt that different from our Smerican or Canadian Chinese food, just instead influenced by the local produce and meats here. I decided that I couldn't go too wrong with spring rolls and chicken chow mien. It seemed like a safe bet.  The spring rolls were to die for. I would easily travel back to Sucre specifically for the spring rolls! The chicken chow mien was pretty good, only real difference was the use of spaghetti noodles. It iwas strange eating chicken chow spaghetti. My time in the beautiful city was short. I would happily return to relax under the trees of this Bolivian paradise. A 9 hour bus would transport me from Sucre to Uyuni, my next destination. The bus ride allowed me to watch the Bolivian landscape pass me by. After passing out of the heart of Sucre, the red brick adobe houses, with rebar reaching out of the tops of the buildings returned. In South Smerica many houses and buildings will leave rebar sticking about 12 inches out of the roofs of the houses. This is because once a house or buillding is finished the property owners must begin to pay taxes. However an unfinished property is exempt from taxes. There rebar suggests that the building is not complete, and a second story could be added, therefore live in a house that is a bit ugly, tax free..... When I build my house I may leave some siding off one area of the house... The desert passed by me, the sandy rolling hills reminded me of the desert I Arizona, the drive between Phoneix and Tuscon. Suddenly out of no where a long stretch of low green pasture in a low lying field extracted itself from the desert. A literal desert oasis with grazing llama, cows, sheep, pigs, burrow, and horses. Windswept hills in the distance with sand so white it looked like snow hid the bases of 2 lonely jagged peaks which rose out of the far horizon. We rounded the corner of the desert oasis, around the snowsuit sand hill. Suddenly just as dramatically the sand turned purple.  Purple sand piled into purple mountains, purple shale scatter down the side and spilled onto the blacktop of the road. Poking up through the purple desert were little hairy white caps on saguaro cactus. Long white hair stood tall on the tops of these cactus. the land seemed to change in a blink of an eye. Having picked up local passengers hit hiking on the streets we detoured into a small village called Puneayo. Bits of rusted metal stitched together with barbed wire outlined fences of matching rust red mud brick houses. An obvious mining town the city seemed to  have settled in the desert with the dust. Shortly after our last detour into Puneayo we arrived Uyuni.

La Paz

I finally made it to Bolivia. This area was the bane of my parents existence. Feedback from family, friends, co-workers, and random strangers had convinced certain members of my family that terrible things could possibly (and probably) happen to me here. Although I knew the dates I would be arriving in Bolivia and the dreaded La Psz, I kept things vague for the most part about the arrival time to try and diffuse the stress levels. I don't know if it worked, but all hearts (including my own) were still beating at this point. I boarded an early morning bus from Arequipa, with a transfer in Copacabana, to the largest city in Bolivia, La Paz. On the bus I met a young woman who was raised in Columbia, but now living in the Canary Isalnds, and traveling around South America on her own. She spoke decent English, and of course her first language was Spanish. She decided to be my travel buddy for La Paz. Although she drove me up the wall, she was very nice, sweet, and I thought a buddy for the city would help aleviate some parental stressors. I was surprised at the city of La Paz, from the terrified voices of my parents swirling in my head I anticipated a dark, shady, and scary city. Instead I found streets lined with local vendors who would swap out their wares as the day progressed. In the early morning one could find tables and tarps lined with heavy jackets, down vests, wool socks, snow pants, or gore-tex water proof travelling pants, hats, and heavy knitted sweaters. It was as if at any minute the skies would open up and piles of snow would blanket the unaware pedestrians of La Paz. After about 10am the winter wear would be packed up and hauled away, and breakfast type entres and street vendors would come out. Not someone with an egg and sausage biscuit, but instead some type of thinly sliced meat, potatoes and onions mixed in a large wok. Or have your choice of meat or cheese empanada. Cups for freshly squeezed juices were available as well. Half of the recently juiced fruit skin rested as a lid, or a pit of the fruit bobbed in the cup to mark the favors available. I always missed the lunch and mid afternoon rush, I not know if the food vendors stayed out. During the evenings, very nice spandex type clothing, with glitzy chians, tiaras, "diamond" encrusted bracelets, rings, earrings, and necklaces were always available to anyone looking. I typically chose not to partake in these clothing options. I don't want to detract from my casual mud stains, and smell of stale unwashed clothes. One cannot wash clothes enough when backpacking.. I am officially tring to live up to my nick name of Smelly Kelley apparently. La Paz also has very beautiful architecture throughout the city. One can easily walk to a multitude of Plaza de Armas ( main squares) within a few minutes of one another. This is uncommon in South American cities. Typically there is one main square I which the rest of the city tends to be centered around. In La Paz we had difficiutly nailing down which was the "Main" main square. The Church of San Fransico was made from brown sandstone bricks, that had the small fine crumbling appearance of a sandcastle. It was tall and the small square in front of it always filled with people sitting on the low chains thst hung between low cement pillars. Pigeons like most squares were the principle land owners and residents. Down the road was a market that from the outside looked like a parking garage. The inside set up was similar with 4 cement floors, connected by a thin set of stairs located at the back, or you could work your way up and down the low slanted ramps. Stores were crammed in one by one selling anything one could want. Books for school, history, physics, literature, suduko, best sellers and children's book in one section. Another devoted to dog food,or the kitchen supplie store, selling everything from tupperware to Swiss army knives. The stores looked like small wooden sheds smushed in one next to another. Only enough room for the salesperson to stand in the middle and the cash machine. Every other inch of space the items for sale were piled upon one another. One section we found as we were leaving sold teddy besrs. From small enough to fit into your pocket to teddy besrs that were six feet tall and 3 feet wide.... About 15 stores line up offering the same products. My Colombian friend, Estefanía was leary to venture to far from the street our hostel was on. She really had no sense of direction, and once we had rounded a corner, had no idea how to get back to where we stared. I finally red her with a map, and with this in had I could finally lead her away from out one block radius. I got a four block radius to work with. Although she did not minos how to read a map, she felt comfortable enough at first to explore a little. But I still felt like I had a leash on. By our 3 day in La Paz, and covering the same loop over and over again, I set off and dragged her a bit along with me. I may have overwhelmed her as after 2 hours we crabbed it back to the hostel because she was too tired and needed a 3 hour nap... I kept exploring. The people of La Paz were friendly and helpful. Although I often had a Spanish speaker to help me people were always happy to poi t you in the direction s of what you were looking for, help you find the item, store or restaurant you wanted, and in general were friendly and kind. I had none of the forseen problems in the area and was presently surprised.

Puno and The 3 Islands

From Arequipa I took a bus to Puno. A small town at the southern end of Peru. The only reason to visit this small dusty city is that it lays on Lake Titicaca, the highest fresh water lake in the world sitting at about 3800 meters. The lake shares its borders with Bolivia. Nothing to do in the city but walk up and down Lima street, the one tourist lane, lined with `tourísta´restaurants, shops, and travel agencies there is nothing authentic or exciting about Lima street. The rest of Puno is a mostly decrepid village, mud brick houses that are crumbling onto the mud streets, the red adobe houses, that show the grass straw that they are mixed with poking out from the walls. Warped wooden doors, and thin pieces of ripped fabric mark doors and windows. I wanted on the Lake quickly.
Happily the next morning I was on my way to a 2 day one night journey to 3 islands on the lake. The first was Uros. These are floating reed islands that the local villagers who inhabit these islands make. In total there are about 40 floating islands, with a few devoted to recieving tourists. On each island lives about 5-7 families, each island having a president. Our recieving islands President was named Alfredo. A popular name in small Peruvian villages I would learn. He explained to us in his native language Quechua, how they made the islands, our guide Javier would then translate.
Alfredo explained how the people would go out to the natrual reeds that grow in the lake, and whose root bases make for shallow areas to walk upon. Using saws, they cut into the reed root base and break off large pieces. These they take back to their islands and tie the chunks together. Using a wooden stake that has to be bought in Puno, they drive the stake into the root base and then tie, with rope made from the reeds, each piece together. They cut the actual reeds from the root base and lie the reeds on top of the root base, covering the stakes and ropes. The reeds are layed in a basket weave type manor to add more stability to the island. Walking upon the island is like walking in a spongy marsh. The houses, boats, and beds are all made from the roots. Now the locals use small wooden motor boats again bought from Puno, and the reed boats serve only for a tourist attraction. Although a bit touristy and forced, the islands rely heavily on the daily tourist visists, so I didnt feel bad being hassled to buy something or ride on one of the reed boats. They suckered me into a boat ride by mentioning the money goes to doctors and medicines needed for the locals....

Next after a very long and slow 3.5 hour journey across the lake we arrived at Anamanti. This is an actual island on the lake. Here we would stay the night with a local family, staying in their home, eating with them the local food they cooked for us. We met our `momma´ Seraphina. She would be letting us into her house and caring for us for the night and next morning. On the boat I had met 3 other single travellers. 2 guys from Australia, Alex who looked not a day over 14, but had just finished a month volunteering on a conservation retreat in the Northern Peruvian Jungle, and Nathan, who had been travelling for 16 months. 9 of which he had lived in Whistler like a true Australian working and skiing the slopes. Also in our little solo group was Mary, a girl from Seattle, who had come to visit a friend in Lima, and was now on her first solo female traveler trip. We all spoke a little bit of broken Spanish. Our Momma only spoke Quechua, except did know how to say "vamos" - lets go. Her husband, spoke a few words of Spanish. All of us together, his basic spanish (which was better than ours) and a translation page someone had kindly written out, was supplemented by a lot of hand gestures and miming. However we were able to communicate quite well.
The family was wonderful and kind. We stayed in a L shaped building, on the second floor. Expecting to be sleeping on dirt floors and given a few blankets this was amazing. We had acual beds, a light and electricty from a solar panle at night, and even a table. Our Momma was kind enough to provide a girl room and a boy room.
The kitchen was behind the house. A mud building with a grass thatched roof. A hole in the roof let out the smoke from the tiny clay stove, buring grass and and leaves, to cook and warm the pots of food. They also had a gas stove, a propane tank attached next to the stove for the gas burners, the actual oven used as storage. She made us local fare which consisted of quinoa soup, rice, and a vegetable and potatoe medely. Usually onion, green beans, fava beans, and carrots. This was the meal I would eat for the next 2 days. If I never see rice and potatoes again it would be okay. However the food was delicious.
Later that afternoon after our meal we gathered with the rest of the group to hike to the two temples on two opposite peaks of the island. First was Pachatata - the temple of father earth "pacha" - earth "tata" - father. The second, Pachamama - mother earth... i let you figure out the translation there...
Every year on July 21 the 10 local villages hike to the temples to present offerings, animal sacrifices, and celebrate the gods, in hopes of good crops for the following year. The 10 villages split into two groups, each group visiting one temple. They slaughter a goat or sheep in offereing, as on the island they do not have llamas or alpacas, and after a big celebration occurs.
Before we left on our journey our Momma and Papa, came and offered us a hand knitted wool hat that our Momma had made for the hike. Utilizing thier translation paper they explained that the hats were for us to borrow. No pressure to buy. They were beautiful and we happily all took one. Our momma was the only one to offer warm hats! We scored the best family.
We hiked to the top of each peak visiting the stone temples. Over looking the rest of the small island, and out onto the lake. From Pachamama we watched a large thunder and lightining storm rolling over the mainland.
After a delicious dinner of rice, potatoes and quinoa soup, and all feeling bloated and full, our Mama arrived to our room with clothes. She dressed Mary and I in the traditional local wear. A embroidered white shirt, then a high waisted wool skirt was cinched on. After the first wool skirt a second heavy layered wool skirt was added. This was cinched on ever tighter with a wide multi-colored embroidered belt. Ensuring I would never take a deep breath again, i felt like i was in a corset! Then a long heavy black piece of fabric that was also ebroidered with bright flowers on either end was worn like a nuns habit, draped over my head. If you must know since I cannot post pictures, i looked fabulous! Mary and I were previously worried about being cold on the island. Not a problem in our layers of wool.
The guys were given wool ponchos, and wore their borrowed hats to add to the look. We looked halarious all together. Our Momma then took us to the dance. A local band of young boys played drums and wooden pipe flutes. Our Momma loved to dance and would not let us sit down. All of the other gringos were also dressed in the local wear, and escorted by thier mommas. Although set up purely for the sake of the tourists, the event was not at all tacky, but instead endearing. It was obvious the Mommas enjoyed the social gathering, and the excuse to dance. As all the villages on the island rotate the tourists groups, this is not a daily occurance.
Our Momma soon had us dancing, refusing to take no for an answer, not that any of us had the heart to turn her down. Dancing includes skipping around in a circle holding hands and waving them back and forth. The local women actually had a series of steps they did, and included skirt waving, but us gringos were just trying to keep up! It was quite funny and in truth fun. You could not look around the circle of dancers with out seeing bright big tooth bearing grins and people laughing. Gringos and locals alike.
After a few dance session, we told our momma we were going to leave. She escorted us home, and it was obvious she was not ready to go, but Mary and I had no idea how to get our of our clothes, a series of knots and ties had us tightly wrapped in our wool. Our momma simply pulled on secret string, and the 2 skirst and belts all fell to the floor... an interesting note I am sure the local men appreciate!
We fell asleep under 10lbs of blankets as the island gets quite cold at night and there is no such thing as a heater! I haven´t slept better on this trip.

The next morning we headed down to breakfast. We all nervously anticipated quinoa soup, potatoes and rice. Happily we were suprised with crepe like pancakes! They were fabulous. A sad departure after breakfast and we left our Momma on the island, knitting a new hat for the next group.
The third island is not worth mentioning. It was called Taquilia (tack-eel-ay), and it was basically used as a half way point for lunch. We walked up to the town, ate (you got it quinoa soup, potatoes, and rice) this time with the addition of lake trout or an omlette; and then walked down to the boat.

Lake Titicaca started out as a task to tick off my "places in the world" list. I thought how could you go to Bolivia and Peru and not go to the highest lake in the world. It ended up being a wonderful memory of a family who live a life that is the exact opposite as my own, and hosted me for a night.

That night our little group shared dinner together in Puno, before we each headed our own ways in the morning. It was nice to have some english speaking friends to chat with for 2 days.

Arequipa & Colca Canyon

Sadly after lunch in Colca Canyon it started to rain, so the rest of the day was a bit of a wash. We tried to go to some local `hot-springs´i would call them warm pool. It was a man-made pool, with semi-warm water. As it was pouring rain and not warm you had to jog around the pool to stay warm... when we finally arrived at the hotel I had a scalding shower, until i was litterally tomatoe red, still not warm i wrapped my self sausage-like in 4 alpaca blankets and went to bed at 8pm as there was nothing else to do in the town and i had not brought a book or music...
The next day we woke up and hiked out from the town to the canyon. We looked down a 3000 foot drop into the raging chocolate river, and across the canyon at the volcanoes and 6000 meter peaks beyond us. Nestled within the valley were small towns, the terracing reaching up into the moutains, fed by the streams from the glaciers above. Our guide explained the people there would raise llamas, alpacas, and grow vegetables and fruits. When they needed supplies they would load up donkeys, and walk 11 hours down to the base of the canyon, across one small bridge, and then back up to the village we were staying at which for the three villages we could see, was the closest town that was attatched to the `main land´. The closest village was about 6-8 hours each way, one of the furthest about 20 hours each way. There are about 11 villages on the other side of the canyon that walk to the local villages on the `main land´side of the canyon. I call it the main land as it is connected by roads to the big towns and cities. These villages are not. The only way to them is on foot.
The french couple left us at this point as they were treking alone in the canyon for the next 3 days, planning to hike to the little villages on the other side of the canyon where you could find hostels for those adventure types. Next trip to Peru, I will be doing this! So when I am walking around Fish Creek hiking up the hills with a 30lb pack, this is what i am training for. However before that happens my real bed a couch are my first priorities for Calgary.... I might not come up for a day or two!
We continued on hiking to a few more look out points which were all jaw dropping. It is probably one of the most beautiful places in the world I have ever been to. After the breathtaking vistas, we hiked back to the van to go and find the condors.
Trying to stick to our plan of avoiding the thousands of other tourists who are all on the same travel schedule, we went to a random side of the road pull out and hiked a bit down the hill. After about 25 minutes of waiting, the condors made their apperance. They float like a feather up on the wind, tilting back and forth to gain altitude and find the warm currents that raise them above the canyon in their search for food. The largest bird in the world, and also a vulture, they look below for some poor befallen animal who has plummeted down to their death. The birds are so big and heavy with 12 foot wing spans and standing close to 4 feet tall, that they cannot take off from the ground. Instead they live on the cliff edge so they may jump to catch the wind and fly. They look graceful and light while flying high above you, however when they pass by, in their accent, they zoom past and are much more forboading. It was awesome seeing them so close, without hundreds of other on lookers all fighting for elbow room. It was the 3 of us and out guide on the cliff edge. A few hundred meters down the road we could see the pile of buses, and vans all lined up on the road.

After the Condors we headed back to Arequipa, a 4 hour drive with a stop over for buffet lunch. The lunch although having lots of local food, was about as good as any buffet lunch one can find, which tends to leave you hungry for better food, and full of bad food.
We decided to wander the local market for coca leaves and leefta. Now coca leaves are from the coca plant from which cocaine is made. Locals and Gringos both chew coca leaves. Locals as it is energizing and kind of a culture thing, gringos to help with altitude acclimitization, as it is a natrual safe product that really does work. They often have it as coca tea, but if you go to the markets you can buy the dried leaf.
Now before some of you get all crazy that I was doing cocaine in Peru, it really is safe and natural. Not cocaine!!! Cocaine is the alkaloids that are in the plant which are extracted using kerosene, formaldahyde, and a bunch of other disgusting and terrible things. Within the coca leave are alkaloids, chewing them releases about 14 of the different alkaloids, when mixed with leefta, about 40 of the alkaloids are released. Leefta looks like a small black rock. Instead it is the ash of another local plant that is burned and then pressed together. When chewing them together it tastes like an extremely strong tea bag is in your mouth. Also they numb your mouth. My whole mouth tasted like a topical lidocaine had been applied. An interesting side effect, but made sense when i remembered cocaine used to be used for an anesthetic.
I never felt high or hyper or really noticed any other side effect other than the numb tounge until we reached the highest point on our return home. Back up at close to 5000 meters the last time everyone was feeling very sleepy, a common altitude side effect. One of the other travellers the previous time we were at this spot felt short of breath, this time leefta and coca leaves in mouth, we all felt fine. No one was tired or short of breath. Interesting little leaf this thing is!

I returned to Arequipa late that evening. The next day was the for mentioned Easter Sunday. I wandered about the town hungry again, most everything was closed, even the local starbucks!! Now firstly it is strange to find starbucks in Peru, secondly starbucks is open on Christmas in Canada, not Easter Sunday in Peru.....
I finally found a restaurant that was open and had yummy crepes, it felt appropriate for Easter. I wandered around the town again, watching processions, and people wandering about in their Sunday best. The big problem came at dinner time, no where was open... at all. Finally I found a coffee shop, and coffee and key lime pie made dinner. Tasty, but after a day of walking around the city, and only a crepe for breakfast, wasnt quite the satisfying turkey dinner i was craving!

Areqìupa was a beautiful city, however if I ever return, it will not be over Easter Week.

Arequipa

As previously stated after Cusco I travelled to Arequipa which is in the southeastern part of Peru. It is the second largest city of Peru and is located in the Andes Mountains. It is a recluse city of Peru, aloof and distrustful of the power in Lima. Intellectuals and the wealthier citizens of Peru tend to reside in this cty.

The city both looks and feels different than the rest of Peru. Founded in 1540, it was constructed of porous white volcanic stones from the three volcanoes that surround the city. This has led to the nickname la ciudad blanca, or the white city. The three volcanoes, El Misti, Chachani, and Pichu Pichu all are over 6,000 meters and attract outdoor enthusiasts to the city. My attraction to the city was Colca Canyon, and the Colca Valley, a large canyons twice as deep as the Grand Canyon, that offers white water rafting, trekking through the canyon, mountain climbing and repelling.

I arrived early into Arequipa off the night bus. I grabbed a taxi and headed to the hostel that I had previously booked. After being reminded why I will never again stay in a dorm I was excited to find a hostel that offereed 1 bedroom witha private bathroom for an amazing $9.00/night. The private bathroom had bumped the price up from $5-$9... I was more than happy to pay $4 night for a bathroom.. No luxurious amenities, but a bed, shower, toilet with my own roll of toilet paper, and shower were reason for celebration! I even had a tv.... High class

My first real challenge came after I had found breakfast, and already walked I the wrong direction for about 2 hours before I realized I was lost. After finding my way back to the main square (I begrudgingly had to find and consult a map) my flip flops had bit the dust. One was sporting a large gaping mouth that kept catching on the cobblestone streets and trying to throw me into traffic, the other had lost a strap. Fortunately these flip flops had two straps to each shoe, but walking was a serious challenge as I shuffled down the streets. The third challenge to my shoe dilemma was that they were a few years old: I had polished away all tread to a nice slippery surface that was well matched to the worn cobblestone streets. If not catching the mouth, or trying to toe grip the other shoe to stay on my foot, I kept slipping down the streets. I am sure I was quite the sight to see.

Fortunately in Arequipa, the shops seem to be arranged by street. My hostel was on "optic row", the street containing at least 50 eye-glass stores. One next to the other all lined up for 3 blocks, offering the same product. I am not sure how this allows for any of them to stay open, but a communal effort seems to occur.

Fortunately my shuffle step brought me to the shoe district. Sadly I could not find a flip-flop that didn't have some type of glittery flower the size of my head, or was not sporting a 3 inch rubber platform, but I finally found a sandal that would suffice. My challenge unknown a head of me I tried to find a shop girl to get me the other shoe as fortunately it was in my size. Size 35 that is..however in this store all of the shop girls are in civillain clothes, are often trying on shoes themselves, and ignoring most of the customers.. Or at least all the customers that speak english, which was me. I finally convinced someone to help me, and tried to explain that I just wanted to other shoe. I have very limited Spanish skills, but did know how to say " I would like 35" with "this shoe", and "size" thrown in as Englsih. She did not understand and quickly rattled off something at me for the next 5 minutes to me in Spanish, me staring blankly back, and occasionally just trying to point at the shoe. I was finally able to squeeze in "I don't speak Spanish"- in spanish, to which she replied to me for another 5 minutes in Spanish. I continued to stare blankly and smile weakly again pointing to the shoe in my hand. I began pantomiming the other shoe and then pointing to the shoe size and saying "sí trienta y cinco"... This went on for about another 5 minutes us talking over one another until she exasperately grabbed the shoe from me and went and got the left shoe too. I quickly paid before any more conversation could occur and had a new pair of shoes! Only took me 50 minutes.

The rest of the day was spent finding a tour into Colca Canyon for the next morning.

Colca Canyon and Colca Valley are home to the Andean Condor, the largest birds in the world, which host 12 ft wingspans. Although these birds are one of the main attractions to the valley for tourists not interested in partaking in the adventure aspect, there is so much more to the canyon. Snow capped mountains and volcanoes each reaching up 6000 meters into the sky, artistically terraced argricultural slopes, narrow plummeting gorges, desert landscapes, rocky scrub hills, raging rivers, and remote traditional villages scattered throughout each terrain make up this vast region.

The Río Colca river, comes down from the glaciers at the mountain tops, and is the beginning of the Amazon River. This rivers cuts through the Canyon, over 3,400m (11,150ft) deep, through a volcanic mountain range more than 100km (62miles) long.

We started our journey driving an hour and a half out of Arequipa, and into a national reserve that is home to the three native South American Camels. The vicuña, alpaca, and llama are considered South American Camels. There were plenty to see and after stopping off on the side of the road at our first sighting, we realized these animals would become familiar faces over the next 2 days. Next we ventured off the typical trail to hike into see the Huayllay Stone Forest, similar to Hoodoos found in Alberta or Utah. Over 70 million years old these strange rock formations look like stone trees sprouting from the ground. High iron content in the soil cause the stone forest to have a ruddy orange color, but the surrounding land is a grayish white dusty rock, caused by a volcanic eruption in the area in 1994.

Next we traveled up into the mountains which lead into the valley, arriving at the highest point approximately 4,800 meters. Here the land is covered in loose jagged stones, and low thorny scrub. The local villagers hike to this point once a year to perform animal sacrifices, and make offerings to the mountain gods. Because the villagers rely so heavily on the mountains they continue to see the mountains as a god. Along with animal sacrifices they take stones and stack them, making little towers, coca leaves pressed beneath the base of the rock towers.

We found a strange plant which looks and feels like a rock, covered in green moss. Instead it is actually a plant that grows 1.2 cm per year and whose branches are so tightly interwoven it only produces short small leaves, and is sturdy enough to stand upon. The plant we inspected was about 6 feet long and 2 feet wide. Our guide estimated its age at about 500 years old.

Semana Santa

I had arranged to catch a night bus from Cusco to Arequipa, leaving me most of another day to wander the streets of Cusco. The night before I had visited a restaurant recommended by my travel book and the food was amazing. I splurged a little on that meal and treated myself to a night out. The bill came to a whopping $25 US. Since the food was so good and the price so reasonable I decided to try lunch at a pizza restaurant highly recommended by my travel book that was supposed to be a cheap find. After a tasty pizza, but one that left me with a craving for real Italian style pizza, one of the staff sat down and we began to talk. We were exchanging life histories, when he suddenly stood up and rushed me to the door. The Procession was starting.

Now if you ever choose to travel to South Acmerica in April it would be helpful of someone would be so kind as to warn you about Semana Santa. This is a week of holiday before Easter. It includes the religions holidays of Palm Sunday, Holy Monday, Holy Tuesday, Holy Wednesday, Maundy (Holy) Thursday, Good Friday, And Holy Saturday. Then of course there is Easter Sunday, and Monday. In this time much of the cities shut down and the people celebrate thier religious holidays. Starting Monday they have daily processions with the exception of Thrusday. A procession is quite an event. The streets throughout the city are shut down and lined with policeman and local soldiers, and, for lack of other words, a float decorated in flowers and fruits, and shiny objects (depending on the wealth and size of each city) that holds Jesus on the cross. The float is carried on the shoulders of men, and preceeded down the streets by Catholic church seniority, and high ranking members of the church, the army marching band, and a bunch of other obvious important people of the community or church, and they walk the streets. The local people line up in droves to watch the procession walk by. In Cusco they bought flowers and threw them from the balconies covering the the people, and float. The whole town comes out for this event.

The only day this event does not occur is on Maudy Thursday in which it is forbidden to go to mass or have a procession. However the city remains shut down.

The first Procession in Cusco was very interesting. The Jesus on the cross was black. This Jesus was brought to Cusco from Spain in the 1600's after a large earthquake hit Cusco. The father of the catholic church at that time arranged to have the ditey made in Spain and shipped to Cusco. He informed the local people that once the diety of Christ arrived there would be no more Earthquakes. This is what helped focus the religion in Cusco from the traditional Inca Mother and Father Earth, and gods of the Sun and Moon, to the Catholic religion.

When th diety arrived it was white, but the smoke from the candles that were constantly burning around it has caused the statue of Christ to turn black.

After the first procession I began to tire of trying to fight through the streets to pass the people who were lined up waiting for the procession to pass.

The other problem with the Holy week, beyond the throngs of people in the street is the fact that about 95% of the city completely shuts down. I didn't have this problem in Cusco so much, but when I arrived in Arequipa new problems arose. The first day was Holy Tuesday. At this point I did not realize the processions were a daily occurrence, and most of the city was active and open. However on Good Friday I was hard pressed to find any sort of food or restaurant that was open. Instead suppers consists of a coffee shop, and key lime pie.. The next two days did not end fruitfully either. With the majority of a city completely shut down, very few people speaking English, and my Spanish is minimal and terrible for the little I do know.. It has proved an interesting week of Semana Santa.

Back to Cusco

After my friend returned to Calgary I was back to the single status traveller. I got back to Cusco for a few more days to wander around the city and see the sights. Although we had recieved about a 2 hour tour on our first day with KIA, I remembered very little of the tour. Jet lag and the high altitude prevented much information sticking.
I decided to stay at a "party hostel", in hopes of meeting some fellow travellers headed south, as well as Cusco prices were quite expensve. That was the first and last dorm I will stay in for the rest of my trip.. mistake learned. Fortunatley my night-status nursing career has taught me to sleep anywhere, and through anything. With some ear plugs and a facemask, i was able to get a few more than 3 hours of sleep..
The hosel offered breakfast which is always a plus. It was also located only 2.5 blocks from the Plaza d e Armas , which is the main square, and the only thing I recalled from the first tour. I fell into the typical Kelley travel pace, and began to wander about the city, not realizing I was headed in the opposite direction of the Main Square.
What led me in my direction was a church that I thought may have been the Plaza, and I only consult maps when I am completely lost. While trudging up a hill I came across a local market set up with tarps to identify each "shop". A similar ratty blue tarp was then layed out on the ground to showcase each shopkeepers wears. Litterally every item one could think of was being offered to any available taker. New and used shoes, baby clothes, fresh fruits, hats and full down jackets, tools, hammers, wheelbarrows that had previously been used for cement mixing, cooked street vendor foods, links of chain dripping with oil so as not to show thier rusted status. Missing a bathroom tap, or want an old stainless steel sink... or maybe an old full singer sewing machine in perfect condition; this market had it . My favorite was the base and lid of a blender, but no actual glass blender. But I am sure you could wander down a few stalls and find one that would fit. When I came across the meat that was sitting out under the tarps out of direct light of the baking sun, I was reminded again of Africa. The disticnt smell of blood and meat rotting.
After the street market I proceded around town wandering through a cacophony of twisting roads so narrow, you have to hug the wall when a car drives down. Large looming churches, monastaries, a slew of tourist markets selling alpaca sweaters, scarves, shawls and everyother form of clothing, braided bracelets, silver charms and rings, pictures and drawings, pottery, and rain sticks. I could not take more than 2 steps with out some one offering me some type if nick-knack or a massage, or tourist package. After a while it became a bit much. I escaped to Paddy´s an Irish pub that over looks the Plaza, away from the haggling vendors. I ordered a Cusceña my favorite local beer and sat back and watched the chaos below me.
The next day I decided to visit Saqsauhuaman, an old Inca ruin just above the city of Cusco. Gringos call the place "sexy woman" as the name sounds quite similar.
The hike was much more intense than I was anticipating, apparently I had not quite acclimatized yet as Cusco was the highest elevation I had been to at that point. My one previous day in Cusco wandering the streets had not adequately prepared me for my hike. When I finally arrived after pretending to consult my map for numerous breaks allowing my heart to catch up, I was standing on a large hill looking over the whole of Cusco. It was a pretty spectacular sight. I wandered around the grounds following Spanish speaking guides, picking up no inforamtion. The boulders that make up the ruins are alarming in size. They are the largest stones in any prehispanic America, and are so perfeclty placed together one cannot fit a piece of paper between them. Sadly when the Spaniards discoverd Saqsayhuaman, they tore down the Inca city using the stones in thier own construction of Cusco. All that remains are the stones that were to large to pull down. The site is impressive with some of the stones over 6 meters tall. Some believe that the city was shaped like a Pumas head. The ruins of the city stretch throghout Cusco, and although less known than Machu Piccu, where the famous Inca ruins were only a small village, Saqsayhuaman, was a whole city, with temples, villages, markets and stores.

Easter Island

As I was not up to snuff when leaving Lima, to fly to Easter Island, I was pleasantly surprised to find my travel agent had some how booked me into first class. This was a welcome discovery as the seats on the 5 hour flight from Santiago, Chile, to Easter Island, laid out perfectly flat and single sized duvet blankets were offered. I slept the whole flight.

The island has the typical tropical feel, with greeters coming to meet the passengers off the plane, providing flowers, or leis of orchids or beans. The airport has one gate with 2 daily flights. My friend met me at the airport and with a car he had rented we went to the hotel where I cleaned up from my terrible Lima day.

After lunch and wandering through a town that reminded me of the non-touristy Hawaii, the relaxed, hang-ten attitude of the people, we went to a grassy hill that hosts 6 Moai.

If you are unsure what a Moai is, are to enraptured in my blog to google, and have children, think of the movie Night at the Museum. The big stone head statue that asks " Hey dumb-dumb, where's my gum-gum?", that is a Moai.

So the 6 Moai, overlook the ocean on the west coast, where the sun sets. Perfect classic picture taking opportunity. We were joined by all of the other tourists on the island. The nice thing about being a tourist in Easter Island, there are not many of them. I think because the island is so remote, and such a pain in the butt to get to, there are only a few dedicated tourists.

That night after returning was the fore-mentioned cockroach night...

The next day after both of us surviving the cockroach, me the bug, my friend me not killing him for chasing me with the bug, we explored the island.

Easter Island is a strange and unique place. It is claimed to be one of the most remote inhibited places in the world with fewer than 100 residents. It is 3,510 km or 2,180 miles west of Chile. The island is about 25km or 15 miles long by 12km or 7.6 miles at its widest part, and triangular in shape. It was formed by 3 volcanoes, which cause for black volcanic rock beaches. The whole island ends in these jagged rocks with no form of soft sandy beach. The large waves break over the rocks causing for spectacular white spray to shoot into the air. The crashing waves cause for beautiful contrast against the rock.

The rest of the island has strange random peaks of mountains that rise up out of flat planes. Most of the island is covered in low scrub and few trees regardless of the tropical climate.

Part of the problem preventing further tree growth is, as said by one of our local guides, caused by all of the horses on the island. Although they provide alternate modes of transportation, and opportunities for horse-back riding tours, most of the seem to breed uncontrolled and wander the island freely. The same guide said that they lead to further destruction of the ruins.

However the 5 year old girl in me saw horseys and the next hour was spent me stalking them.. My friend kindly indulging me.

We drove around the island hiking up the volcanoes, over looking the small island the bird cult tribes would swim to, walking through the quarry of the mountain that is half cleaved, for the ancient people to carve the Moai out of, wandering the desolate beaches. It was a great adventure. A surreal place to visit with a strange history.

Lima and the Cockroach

So so far my blogs have been happy go lucky, sunshine and rainbows.. Which most of the trip has been. This will be my blog about the few things that have not been so shiny and wonderful:

The first will be Lima. Those who were on the trip know the nitty gritty details of how horrible things were, I do not plan to go into such detail.. Just the basics

After Cusco and Machu Picchu we flew into Lima for a day before late transfers for everyone that night back to Canada. During our 15 hour layover a day trip had been planned for a tour of Lima. That morning a few of us had rumbling stomachs, with one of the group members fairing a bit worse.. As we arrived in Lima, slowly but surely a nasty stomach bug started to take us down one by one. Only a few escaped feeling unwell. I was not one of the lucky few. I refused to succumb to the yucky feelings I was having and decided I would powerhouse through the day. I was to return to Lima in a few days I wanted to see the city for when I returned. This stubborn attitude was a mistake I would later come to regret. We went to the gold museum, which had relics and antiques from the Inca, and other ancient cultures of Peruvian history. Also a tour of the catacombes, and a church that had a large replica painting of "The Last Supper". The painting had an amazing Peruvian twist; the meal rather than bread was cuy, a Peruvian delicacy of guinea pig.

Sadly I was trying to enjoy this tour from a semi-fetal position. The day only progressed badly from this point. I soon joined a few of the other girls who had to bow out for the day in a rented hotel room, Gatorade and soda crackers the perfered meal. I at this time was unable to tolerate anything. Fortunately the bug passed through in a day, but not without putting a major dent in our group for the day.

The cockroach is a story from Easter Island...

I was on the island with a friend of mine from Calgary. He had arrived a few days earlier than me and had pre-scouted the island. After watching sunset the first night, we returned to the hotel, and both fell asleep while talking. I woke up a bit later as the patio door was open and the room was getting chilly.

Upon waking I realized we had been joined by a large disgusting friend. A HUGE cockroach had joined the party. He was about 6cm, or the size of my index finger, with huge flickering antenna. It was possibly worse than a spider. I didn't realize these disgusting creatures bothered me so, but watching it flit about the room had me hiding on the opposite side of the room, slightly panicked.

My friend was asleep and I didn't want to wake him. I was convinced I could deal with this problem independently. In the mean time, in stark contrast to my stubborn independence, I remained on the other side of the room, my arms curled up into my chest, devising no form of a plan.

The horrid bug continued his journey across the lovely clean white walls of the room, a brown stain in my island haven. I watched in mute horror. As he made his way to the front of the room, I thought maybe if I opened the front door of the room it would crawl out. I decided this was my best (and only) plan and would hopefully prevent me from having to get too close to it. One problem remained, my legs were rooted to the floor, and my hands remained grotesque claws curled by my neck.

Then the bug flew... I was a mere 25 feet away, therefore squealed like a little girl. I finally realized I was never going to be the solution to this problem and woke my friend. He sleepily and initially somewhat reluctantly went on a bug hunt. While explaining why I could not catch the bug, and that it HAD to leave the room I lost track of the bug. My bug defensive posture returned and I whimpered into the furthest corner of the room.

My Knight-in-Shining-Armor caught the bug in a glass. However he quickly disqualified himself from the hero status I was awarding him when he began to chase me around the room with the bug in the glass.

I realize that the dirty roach could do absolutely nothing to harm me, that it was trapped in a glass, and that my friend would have never released it on me; but logic plays no role in irrational fear. So with that I was doomed to play the role of a silly girly-girl and ran around the room squealing until I locked myself in the bathroom.

His fun over, and me yelling obscenities through the locked door, he released the thing into the wild.

New fear on my hit list: cockroaches.

As you can tell as it required its own blog entry, I was traumatized!!!

Machu Picchu

We started out trip to Machu Picchu via bus from Urubamba to Ooyantamba. Ooyantamba is a small town that has become the new starting point for those going to Mach Picchu. This is where you catch the train that brings you through the Andes, along side of a raging chocolate milk colored river, and is the only way in. There are no roads so any buses that run the travelers up into Machu Picchu have to be freighted in via the train. We were met early that morning for out guide Hubert, who would be leading us for the next 2 days. We boarded the bus and started a rocking and rolling accent thorough the mountains.

The dental students were doing a different tour than us so we were back to the original 15. At km 88 is the where the people who do the 4 day trek into Machu Picchu disembark. 12 of us were going to instead do the 1 day trek.

Sadly Jamie and my mom had to stay back and would not be joining us as Jamie had been fighting a nasty bronchitis requiring frequent ventolin and codeine treatment. We figured the exacerbation of hiking up a mountain was not the recipe for a cure. Harry also was staying on the train as he did not want to hike in either.

So at Km 104 Justin, Kira, Jared, Amanda, Brian, Cam, Jared's assistants Chantal and Andrea, the other dental office assistants Bonnie and Sherri, Sherri's husband Ken, and myself, were led by Hubert, followed by Fred, another guide, into our one day hike.

The one day hike is approximately 12kms starting at the base of the Urubamba River, finished at the sun gate that over looks Machu Picchu. The trail follows the Inca Trail into the jungle of the Andes. It was absolutely incredible. I wish that I could do it justice, to explain how beautiful it was, but I know I cannot. You just have to see it.... Sorry.

Part of the great experience for myself was the physical challenge it presented. I have well established a couch-potatoe status. Hiking through the mountains, up the narrow and tall stone steps, of which there seemed to be thousands upon thousands of, was exhilarating!!!

The jungle was beautiful and unbelievably lush. Orchids hid amongst the trees, and lantana grew wild along the trail. Flowers and lush vegetation lined, what seemed beyond our little stone trail, steep falling mountain

We hiked for the morning, stopping for lunch at the Inca ruins Wiñaywayna, (wee-nya-wine-yeah) which means forever young. It was named after an Orchid which blooms all around the ruins. The Inca village was only recently discovered in 1941, as it hides high above the river, slated into the mountain face, above the clouds. It is 2500 m above sea level, it is believed to be a sacred place with chains of ceremonial fountains that feed into one another, and terracing that slopes down the mountain face. Surrounded by waterfalls and streams it was a beautiful and surreal spot to sit and have lunch.

After Wiñaywayna the trail become much easier and the pace and our breathing and heart rates became much lighter. the gorgeous vegetation and scenery continued, without the daunting stone steps looming in front of us. Over the next 2 hours we continued through the jungle, until arriving at the aptly named "Gringo Killer". A wall of steep, shallow, slick, stone steps that seemed to rise in front of us at a 90 degree angle. In reality it was not as terrible as first anticipated, more of a grin and bear it experience, and less lactic acid build up in my quads than expected.

This led to the entrance of the Sun Gate, which provides the iconic views of both Machu Picchu and Winaypicchu. It was an amazing feeling to stand there and look at the lost city of the Incas.

We left Machu Picchu to take the bus down the switchback road into Agua Callientes ( Hot Water) named for the natural hot springs that are just outside of the small town. the town is specifically for the visitors of Machu Picchu. Here we met Jamie, my mom and Harry who had taken the train into the city and then did some day excursions offered by the hotel. The went to see the speckled bear rehabilitation center, and did an orchid tour, as there are over 250 different species of Orchids in the surrounding hills.

The next day the whole group took the bus up to Machu Picchunfor a guided tour of the site. Discovered in 1911, the ruins although the most famous, was really only a small village of 300 people, and was built in 70 years. It was abandoned while still in the process of being built for unknown reasons. As it was undiscovered in the Colonial times by the Spanish, it remains relatively intact.

It is unbelievable to see how they interlocked each othe the large granite stones without the modern technology we have today, the pain staking work it must have been to cut and shape each stone, so that it fit perfectly with the next required no mortor to hold them together. On one wall you can look down the lines in the brick work, they are perfectly straight.

The trip was finished by returning to Agua Callientes for lunch, and then headed back to Cusco for the night.