- 1 circumnavigation of the globe
- 322 days
- 20 countries
- 29 flights
- 8 equator crossings
- 17 modes of transportation: plane, taxi, rental car, motorcycle, rickshaw, tuk tuk, scooter, pickup truck, ferry boat, camel, felucca, elephant, bus, canoe, train, motor yacht, bicycle
- 73 books read (Brandy 60 and Kevin 43, but one of his was “War & Peace” which should count for 10)
- 173 different sleeping locations including hotels, hostels, bus stations, airports, trains, tents, buses, and deserts
- met people from 40 different countries

In the past 11 months we have:
Gazed upon original works by Van Gogh, traveled the canals of Venice, stood at the foot of the great pyramids of Egypt, explored the forgotten city of Petra, been so close to wild lions we could almost touch them, seen the magnificence of the Taj Mahal, climbed the mighty Himalayas, bicycled through the temples of Burma’s Bagan, hiked 2,000 year old rice terraces in the Philippines, trekked the Andes to the lost city of Machu Picchu, swam with the sharks and sea lions in the waters of the Galapagos Islands, met amazing, beautiful, kind, and interesting people from all over the world, and so much more.

There are many people who helped us make this possible. We would like to thank:
- Chris and the gang at Boots n All Travel for hosting our website (www.bootsnall.com)
- Deb and Drew for being great hosts and allowing two weary travelers into their home in Arusha, Tanzania
- The Morsy and El Kasaby families for their amazing hospitality in Cairo and Alexandria
- Paola her family in Quito for their warm welcome
- The fantastic guides we have met and befriended along the way: Said in Tanzania, Narayan in Nepal, Robin in Burma, and Alfonso in the Galapagos
- All the great fellow travelers we met along the way who shared their stories, gave us their recommendations, taught us card games, and provided great company and friendship
- Everyone who ever posted a comment on our website or sent us an email… we always enjoyed messages from home
- Our family and friends for their support, specifically:
- Jim, Heather, Rio and Kalvin for looking after our hyper, dumb, but loveable chocolate lab, Treuman, and for parking the infamous but rather unattractive Melonball in front of their house
- Kevin’s mom Heather for looking after some of our banking that could not be done on-line
- Brandy’s dad Rick and his wife Marilyn for storing all of our belongings in their basement, taking care of our cat Inca, couriering replacement credit cards, and dealing with all our mail
- Paul and Corina for storing our Pathfinder at their house
- Jim and Heather again for being the only people to meet us on the road – it was definitely a highlight of our trip

Now, some of your most frequently asked questions answered, starting with the most common…

Q: What was your favourite country?
A: It is impossible for us to pick one country. Each country offered something unique and amazing. A country that we would like to return to is Nepal to do some longer treks. Things we especially enjoyed include our safari in Tanzania, trekking in all countries, and the Galapagos

Q: Did you ever feel you were in danger?
A: No. We were experienced travelers even before we went on this journey. We are careful to always be aware of our surroundings and don’t let ourselves get into situations that make us feel unsafe.

Q: Did anything really bad happen to you?
A: The worst thing that happened was having a day pack stolen from a train in India. We did not lose anything too valuable but it was discouraging and frustrating and took a lot of work to replace the items we lost.

Q: Who looked after your dog?
A: While we were gone Treuman lived on Vancouver Island with Kevin’s brother Jim, his wife Heather and their two kids Rio and Kalvin.

Q: What is it like spending 24/7 together?
A: We travel well together and do not argue very often so we did not have any trouble with this. It is definitely a journey we are glad we experienced together.

Q: Did you ever get really sick?
A: Neither of us ever required professional medical attention. We occasionally took antibiotics for mild stomach ailments but never suffered from anything too serious. Brandy got a deep cut on her foot in the streets of Burma but that was just before we returned to Canada in December so it had a chance to heal at home.

Q: Are you going to write a book?
A: No. We think we’ve bored you all quite enough with this website and you haven’t even seen our 10,000 photo slideshow yet!

Q: Have you satisfied your travel bug?
A: No. We found the more we traveled, the more places we learned about that we want to visit. These include Syria, Iran, Patagonia, and Iceland.

Q: How did your flights work?
A: We bought around-the-world tickets. There are three major airline alliances that offer this type of ticketing and all three have different rules. We went with the Sky Team alliance because it has alliance members that fly to east Africa. Sky Team’s major carriers are KLM and Continental but they are affiliated with smaller airlines all over the world. Our ticket cost $4,800 CAD (about $4,100 USD) and allowed us up to 40,000 miles of flying. We booked all our destinations when we bought the ticket but left the dates open for flexibility. We purchased a couple of extra flights along the way to destinations not covered by our alliance, including Burma and the Galapagos.

Q: How will you adjust to your return to the “Real World”?
A: We are both looking forward to returning to Vancouver, finding a new house, and starting new jobs. We have been away from our families for six years (including our five years in Ontario) so we are happy to be closer to them. Although this trip has changed us both in a million different ways, none of the changes are monumental. We will not be moving to India to volunteer with orphans, Kevin has not switched to an organic, vegan diet, and Brandy will not be giving up her shoe collection. However we may need to open a hostel to accommodate all the people we met around the world that we have invited to visit us here in beautiful Vancouver.

Thanks again for the support. Please feel free to email us personally with any questions to brandyandkevin@telus.net. And if you haven’t signed our guestbook yet, please do so NOW!

Thanks,

Brandy and Kevin

Vancouver Airport May 6, 2005
Vancouver Airport March 24, 2006

From the Galapagos we flew to Guayaquil and from there we grabbed a bus heading west towards the coast. Our plan was to spend one night at Banos de San Vicente, a small inland village with some hot springs. The bus dropped us on the highway, 8km from the village. We started walking, thinking it would only be minutes before a car would come by and we could flag it down for a ride. Twenty-five minutes later and with the sun dropping fast towards nightfall, finally a car appeared and gave us a lift.

The lack of traffic on this small country road was a sign of how small Banos de San Vicente is but we did not get the full effect until we arrived. Abandoned buildings, including houses were everywhere. There were only a few people to be seen. One of them, an unusually small man, led us to the only hotel in town. Hotel Florida is an institutional looking building that has seen better, cleaner days but when it’s the only place in town, what can you do. But things started to seem very strange when, after our long, hot journey, we asked for a cold beer and were informed by the hotelier that he does not serve been as it is bad for you but that he makes some very nice juices. The next thing we noticed was that there was a small chapel in the yard of the hotel that went by the name ¨Church of Nations¨. Then we had a look around us and noticed that the average age of the five or six other guests was in the mid 90´s. There was even a wheelchair and a walker in the lobby for complimentary guest use. Needless to say, we had the second floor to ourselves. We did not even get a key to our room… who could make it up the stairs to get into our room? To top it all off, large disgusting beetles began to fall from the sky, a sure sign of the impending apocalypse.

First thing the next morning we were at the hot springs, a huge sprawling concrete complex that, like our hotel, has seen better days. Of all the numerous pools mentioned in our guidebook, only one was open. It was deep, over our heads, and had bubbles coming up from the rocks below. Other than one older woman who kept spitting over the side, we had the place to ourselves. After a short time there we decided to check out the only other operational attraction at the complex: the lava ash mud pool. This reminded us of a hippo pool, having recently seen one on safari in Africa. It was a big pit in the ground with a bit of water on top and the mud below. It felt like sitting in a big vat of chocolate pudding, although it didn’t smell as good. After getting completely covered in mud, we showered off and then went back to the hot tub for another soak. By this time some other people had arrived so we sat in the pot of old people stew for a few minutes before deciding it was time to move on to another town. Packs in tow, we started off back down the road but this time it didn’t take too long to get a ride in a beauty 1972 Nova 4-door with flames painted on the sides.

Back at the highway we flagged down a bus headed to the seaside village of Manglaralto. Our plan was to spend a couple of nights there and then a couple of nights a few kilometres up the beach in Montanita, known for its surfing. Manglaralto is small and quiet with only a couple of hotels, tiny shops and one restaurant open for dinner. We walked to Montanita one day for some supplies and to rent a surfboard. It is a dirty, smelly town, busy with lots of dirty, smelly travellers so we decided to stay in Manglaralto. The peace and quiet there held true until Saturday night when a large tent-like structure began to take shape in the street one block from our hotel. Wedding decorations soon followed along with speakers the size of a mid-sized car. At 9pm the music began, along with voice over by an especially annoying DJ, and did not stop until 7am the next morning. I don’t know what kind of wedding reception would go on like that but I don’t ever want to be invited to one.

The surf at Monglaralto looked okay at first. There were a few locals out there every day so we gave it a try. The board rental guy told us the waves at Manglaralto are ¨strong¨ but we didn’t fully appreciate what this meant until we were in them. They were shore breaks that closed out all at once: the type of wave that tumbles you ass over tea kettle, leaves you not knowing which was is up, and takes off most of your laundry in the meantime. After two days of battling it out we moved down the beach closer to Montanita to a spot with better waves but where we still had the beach to ourselves. That afternoon as we were returning our board, we spotted Dave and Katie, the Americans from our Galapagos trip. They had just arrived and we made plans to meet them in our town for dinner later on. It´s always a nice surprise to run into people you know while travelling, especially when travelling this long and after we had spent eight days together on the New Flamingo, they felt like long-lost friends. We had some laughs over dinner and then a game of cards back on the patio of our hotel.

At about 11:30 Dave and Katie decided it was time to start making their way back to Montanita. Not a car had passed along our road the entire night so they planned to walk up to the highway to flag down a ride. Just as they stood to go, a small car shaped and painted like a giant colourful ladybug pulled up in front. It was the engine of a train-like ride that pulls kids around town. They hopped in for a ride home like it was the most normal thing in the world and off they went.

The next day we headed to Montanita in the morning and spent the day with Dave and Katie in the busier but better waves at the beach there. At night we went out on the town where you could buy freshly blended cocktails from a cart in the street and we drank pina coladas in glasses made from pineapples. Sometime after midnight we said so long to Dave and Katie. The ladybug wasn’t available that night so our ride home on the back of a motorcycle was somewhat less glamorous.

The following morning we flagged down a north bound bus up the coast to Canoa. We had expected this journey to take only a few hours but maps can be deceiving and it took us all day. The drive was nice though: the coastline is beautiful, one big long deserted golden sand beach lined with lush vegetation. We cut inland for a while, travelling through green forests and fields and past an area that had clearly suffered greatly from some very recent flooding. We arrived in the small village after dark and took a room for the night at a hotel recommended in our guidebook. It had a very nice restaurant on the beach where we ran into Rene, Eva, Judith and Nicole, the Austrians from the New Flamingo.

The next couple of days were for relaxing… the last beach days of this trip. We moved to a beautiful room with a view of the ocean and a deck with a hammock and just hung out meeting with the Austrians for the occassional meal and drink.

The bus ride back to Quito was supposed to take only eight hours but the skies had opened up again and we had to make many stops while landslides were cleared from the road. We arrived in Quito late that night but the next morning we were reunited with our friend Paola, whom we met while on the Tioman Islands in Malaysia. She lives in Quito and picked us up from our hotel and we headed to the country to attend a horse show at which her father had several horses in competition. Paola had explained it to us as a "horse beauty pagent" and the horses were beautiful. They were purebred Spanish horses and the gorgeous ranch and stables where the show was held was also in the Spanish style. This is definitely how the other half of Ecuador lives and we had a great day watching the competitions and meeting Paola´s family including her parents, Magoly and Francisco, who were gracious hosts. Unfortunately a bull fight that was scheduled for the afternoon was cancelled due to a downpour but we stayed into the evening to see an amazing flamenco band and dancers.

We had planned to spend one night at Paola´s family´s ranch north of Quito. We also wanted to spend a couple of days in Otavalo, a small Andean town which is famous for its market. However our plans were cancelled due to ongoing strikes and roadblocks by the indigenous people in protest of an impending free trade agreement with the US. These roadblocks have virtually shut down much of Ecuador so we became prisoners of Quito with four full days to go. We took a short bus ride to La Mitad del Mundo where it is possible to straddle the equator and stand in both hemispheres at the same time. We saw a couple of movies, walked around the beautiful old colonial district of Quito, shopped, went to museums and an amphibian zoo, and just tried to mentally prepare for the end of our trip. Today is our last day. Tomorrow morning we will catch a bittersweet flight back to Vancouver: the last leg of this journey but the beginning of a whole new adventure.

Please sign our guestbook if you have not done so already. There is a link on the top left of this page at the bottom of the Categories list.

Also have a look at the South American Food update in the Food section.

Check back in a week or so for our last entry - a wrap-up and the answers to the most frequently asked questions.

B.

Photos:
Banos de San Vicente Ghost Town
After Lava Ash Mud Bath
Our Ride
Kevin and His Surfing Buddy
Brandy at Beach in Manglaralto
Dave and Katie in the Ladybug
Montanita with Dave and Katie
Beach at Canoa
Horse Show
Paola with her Mom and Dad
Us at the Equator

We were both pleasantly surprised by the food here. Our previous South American food experience in Venezuela left us with memories of bland rice and beans.

In the cool Andes we enjoyed lots of excellent freshly made soups, my favourite being cream of pumpkin. Chicken is the most common main dish but we also tried guinea pig and alpaca. Both were good but the guinea pig required a lot more work than it was worth and disturbingly arrives on your plate spread eagle and with tufts of fur still intact. Food is not generally spicy unless ahi (hot pepper sauce) is added.

Pizza is also common and is generally thin crusted and delicious. Markets offer a plethora of fruits, vegetables and amazing fresh cheese. We had the best olives we have ever tasted in the area around Lake Titicaca. We also tried some good lake trout. Corn on the cob served with some fresh cheese is a common road-side snack.

On the coast I indulged as often as possible in my favourite dish: cerviche, which is seafood cooked without heat in a lime juice marinade. Cerviche varies by country and region. Sometimes it is served with crackers, warm plantain chips, or popcorn. We had a lot of fish on the coast, usually grilled with garlic and other spices.

Most local restaurants serve a set menu for lunch and dinner consisting of a huge bowl of soup, chicken or fish with rice and salad and a glass of fresh fruit juice generally for no more than $2.00. Bread was fresh and good. Bakeries were plentiful. Stuffed pockets of chicken or cheese called empanadas were a great inexpensive snack.

Photos:
Alpaca
Corn on the Cob with Cheese
Guinea Pig
Chicken Foot Soup
Soup in Tent on Mt. Chachani
Typical Meal on the New Flamingo, Galapagos
Special Treat from Chef on the New Flamingo

Thanks to everyone who has viewed our site over the past 11 months. As you can imagine, keeping this site up to date takes up a lot of valuable travel time! We have logged over 48 entries and we estimate we have spent well over 100 hours keeping everyone up to date on our travels. Although we are very grateful to Chris and the rest of the gang at BootsnAll Travel for their FREE hosting of our blog, the one thing we wish it had is a counter. To date we have received 193 comments on our site: these make our work seem worthwhile and it is always nice to see new messages. Now we are asking everyone to please sign our guestbook using the View/Add Comments function below. You need not leave more than your name and if we don´t know you personally, please tell us how you came to view our site.

Thanks so much.

Brandy and Kevin

Upon our safe arrival in the very quiet capital city of Quito, we started our hunt for our long anticipated Galapagos adventure. The Galapagos have been number two on my list (after the African safaris) from the beginning of this trip so I was more than just a little excited. We had anticipated flying to the main town on the islands and cutting our own deal direct with a captain of an eight-day cruise but after some research this sounded more of hassle than it was worth. Plus we did not want to get over there only to find that all the trips were booked. We bargained with one of the only agencies that was open during Carnival, owned by a Swede who was clad in a Swedish hockey jersey boasting about an Olympic gold medal. What the hell happened up there? We leave for a year and we lose our hockey glory! Our home for the next eight days would be the ¨New Flamingo¨.

We flew from Quito via Guayaquil to Puerto Ayora on the island of Santa Cruz, which is one of the handful of Galapagos islands that lie 1,000 km off the coast of Ecuador. Made famous as the proving ground for evolutionists by Charles Darwin who in 1835 identified how the few species of animals that made it out to these volcanic rocks evolved into what is required to survive here. These vary from tortoises with long legs for navigating the rocky islands to iguanas that can drink salt water and a host of other unique species characteristics. Of course their most endearing gift is their lack of fear of human beings given our newness into their world. The ability to swim with sea lions, walk alongside of a tortoise or sit amongst blue footed boobies (get your mind out of the gutter, they’re birds), can be done nowhere else in the world.

We met our guide, Alfonso, at the airport and he escorted us to the ¨New Flamingo¨, which looked to be a pretty good motor cruiser of about 60´, but could have dropped the ¨New¨ from her name before Brandy was born. We met our fellow passengers: Rene, Eva, Judith and Nicole from Austria; Daniel from Switzerland; and David and Katie from Lake Tahoe. All seemed like good people alleviating my fears of being stuck on a small boat for eight days with the wrong people. After an enormous lunch, which was Chef’s way of giving notice we would all be adding some weight over the next eight days, we made our way to a thriving Giant Galapagos Tortoise colony. They have been brought back from the brink of extinction after years of being caught by the thousands by sailors who used them for lamp oil and for fresh meat as they could live in a ship’s hold for a year or more. Once numbering over 450,000, then down to a few thousand, they are now 20,000. We saw more than 50 ourselves, which was 49 more than I expected to see. It was incredible to stand beside these 250 kg giants, listening to them munch on the vegetation and lumber from one shrub to another. With few no predators over the eons, they have outgrown their shells and cannot fully encapsulate themselves. As one of Brandy’s favourite animals is turtles, she was loving it.

After another gastronomic assault by sheer volume we got under way for a night run to James Bay. Unfortunately, as the sun set and darkness crept into our cabin, Brandy’s second greatest creepy-crawly fear (after spiders) came a callin´. Not the big cockroaches but lots of little ones: in the head, on our bunks and even under our pillows. After two tough nights of ¨cabin lobsters¨ as the crew called them, we slept on deck under the stars for the rest of the voyage, which was really better by a long shot. We had come to Galapagos in the rainy season thought we were blessed with eight gloriously hot, sunny days and seven clear, cool nights.

The next six days were filled with mainly four things: hiking and snorkelling, usually twice a day; relaxing on the sun drenched deck; and eating more food than I thought possible. Oh, and of course running up a large bar tab. When we hiked we saw incredibly tortured lava rock formations, huge cacti, mangrove forests, volcanic craters and red, black and yellow sand. Bird colonies of boobies (remember, birds) that were in mating season and would do the funniest goose-step dance with their pale blue feet to win a mate. The enormous-winged frigate birds, the males of which would blow up a volleyball-sized red balloon under their chin to impress the females and then search for the right stone or stick as the deal-closing gift. Vivid pink flamingos that would leave murky water trails like doodle lines in the shallow salt pool water we viewed from a hill above. There were so many types, the sheer number of winged creatures and the fact most would let you sit right beside them or their nests was incredible.

We saw dozens of land iguanas done up in their mating season yellow, orange, red, and green colours. The males protected their cactus (food) with the same ferocity as the females protected their nests. We were close enough to pet them but these 1.5 meter dragons bite so it’s not advisable, even if the Park did allow you to touch them. Along the beaches we saw many tracks of female sea turtles that would drag themselves ashore in the dark to dig an enormous hole for their clutch of eggs. Marine iguanas crowded the beaches in such numbers that they were sometimes two and three deep and you had to watch where you were walking or you might step on one. They are not the most handsome creature in the world but they look funny, especially when they sneeze salt out of their nose, a consequence of drinking ocean water.

Sea lions covered some of the beaches, dragging themselves dozens of metres inland for a warm night’s sleep. Along the marked hiking trails lay young dead pups, grim reminders as to why humans should not touch them. It causes the nursing mother to not recognize the pups´ scent, thus rejecting them causing the pups to starve to death.

Snorkelling provided another world of uncountable fish varieties, diving boobies (birds), and pelicans, comical penguins that look so uncoordinated on land and fly like birds under the water. Manta, sting, golden, marble and eagle rays were common. They would soar through the water with such grace. The young sea lions were playful, sometimes biting on our flippers, twirling when we twirled and stared into our masks like it was a window into what we were. You really could not get enough of swimming with them until the dominant male brought us to order. Reef fish were bigger then any we have ever seen. Sea turtles soared through the blue water. We even saw a huge lobster. We swam with more sharks than I could believe possible. White tip reef sharks were a daily sight. Occasionally we saw the black tipped or Galapagos, but even thought we hunted for hours we did not see the hammerhead. We are now so used to them that yells of ¨Shark!¨ sends us scrambling into the water to have look instead of onto dry land.

As we headed back toward Puerto Ayora to end our boat journey, we were treated to an incredible acrobatic display by a huge pod of dolphins. They hurled themselves in our bow wake, spinning and looking up at us with laughing eyes and then disappeared as magically as they had appeared. What a way for the Galapagos to say Adios!

The quantity of animals was so much more than expected and to get so close to them was amazing. Really it was like a petting zoo (without the petting) and so much more spectacular than I could have envisioned. What a great way to wind down this incredible around-the-world adventure. If you want to go to the Galapagos, bring lots of money and if you go on the New Flamingo, bring roach traps and elastic waisted buffet pants! Alfonso was such a great guide, he was worth the roaches.

Now we’re off for some Ecuadorian surfing before our return to the real world on March 23.

Adios for now.

KLH

Photos:
Us with Giant Tortoise
Us with Marine Iguanas
Kevin and Frigatebird
Us at Viewpoint
Land Iguana
Frigatebird Looking for a Mate
Brandy and Land Iguana
The ¨New¨ Flamingo
Us with Sea Lions
Brandy with Marine Iguana
Boobies Mating (Rated ¨G¨)
Galapagos Penguins
At the Feed Trough with Dave and Katie
Dolphin Beside Boat
Dinner Group Shot
Brandy with Giant Tortoise

Everyone we talked to who had been to Panama said we HAD to go to Bocas del Toro, a group of islands on the Caribbean side of the country. A few followed up with “But don’t go there if it’s raining”, a tidbit of advice that we chose to ignore.

We arrived at the Panama City airport at around 9am after another restful night at the Lima airport. Our flight check-in time in Lima was 3am so we thought why spend money for an entire night in a hotel when we were only going to sleep there half the night. It obviously made perfect sense to pull up a row of chairs at the Jorge Chavez International and settle down for a few hours of free shut eye.

So anyway we arrived in hot, sunny Panama City just after 9am and decided we HAD to get to Bocas del Toro as quickly as possible. Being as thrifty as we are (see above), we skipped over the $25 taxis and opted for the $0.25 local bus, which we flagged down in the road. The Caribbean-influenced tunes were cranked as we raced and rattled through the streets of Panama City where the prevailing fashion trend seems to be: wear as little clothing as possible, no matter what your size. Oh, and make sure it’s two sizes too small and suitable only for a sixteen year old girl with a bad reputation. Stacy and Clinton would be appalled.

By some extremely rare stroke of traveller’s luck, our boom box death trap delivered us exactly where we wanted to be: the Panama City bus terminal where we boarded the next bus headed towards Bocas. Many had suggested we just fly to Bocas but we are thrifty! (see above). We had to spend a night in the town of David (pronounced Da-BEED) but were up at it again for a four hour bus ride across the country to the Caribbean coast to catch our ferry to Bocas.

As our cross-country bus climbed the low mountains in the centre of Panama, a few clouds appeared and then we drove straight into a wall of blackness accompanied by torrential rain. “Just mountain rain”, we thought. “It will be beautiful and sunny in Bocas!” Well of course we were wrong but the rain did let up by the time we reached the boat and the ride over was pleasant enough. The town itself is not so nice. The closest beach is 8k out of town, reached by foot, rented bike or taxi. The expensive places to stay are along the water – no cheap Thai-style beach huts here – so we found ourselves in a little room behind someone’s house in the barrio. We had excellent but expensive food, drinkable but expensive beer, and tried to avoid the drop-out American ex-pats that seem to overrun the place. Oh, but things would be different tomorrow when we would relax in the sun on a deserted beach all day long!

That night the skies opened up like they only can in the tropics and the rain did not let up by morning. As we sat eating our overpriced toast and coffee, these words came back to us: “Don’t go there if it’s raining”. Oh yeah. Right. Well, we were sure it would stop soon. But www.weather.com was the bearer of bad news. Nothing but pictures of little black clouds and big raindrops for the next seven to ten days.

Wasting no time, we were on the next boat out of Dodge, headed back to the sunny Pacific Coast. Another night in David where we passed up an offer to attend a strip club with a creepy American on a sex tour of Central America to go to an almost equally creepy movie called “Hostel” in which all these backpackers get tortured and murdered while staying at a hostel. Then it was back to our hostel for a nice sleep.

The following day after eight hours and five buses (I use the term bus loosely), we made it to our final destination of Pedasi on the Azuero Peninsula. We were happy to find a great room at a great hostel (not a torture device to be seen) and had time for a walk around the small, clean, quiet little town before the day was over.

The next morning the sky was clear and blue and we had a leisurely breakfast in the back yard of our hostel in the small outdoor restaurant set under an enormous mango tree. Each of the next four days consisted of some or all of the following: hammock time, laying on the beach, reading, sleeping, swimming in the Pacific, meeting new friends, discovering good cheap beer, surfing the waves, eating fresh seafood, and hanging out with two Labrador Retrievers – one black and one yellow (there’s only room in our lives for one chocolate Lab!).

Most of our time was spent at Playa Venao, a huge crescent of golden sand, a 33k minibus ride from Pedasi. The only facility there was a small cantina. Breakfast menu: steak and eggs, $1.50; lunch menu: fish with rice and beans, $2.00; beer: $0.50. Paradise. The surfing was fantastic – small waves but perfect for me as it was my first time and I went crazy for it so we returned the next day at 8am and put in a full day.

One afternoon the bus back to Pedasi failed to show up but we were lucky to catch a ride with a local, Gunter, in his seen-better-days pimp-style Mercedes Benz. He was very nice, a local firefighter who spoke only a bit more English than I speak Spanish. When we got back to Pedasi we went for dinner and he insisted on paying for the whole thing. His favourite saying, which is part Spanish and part English was “Solo peace and love” (Only peace and love). The more he drank, the more he said it and by the end of the night, that was quite a lot.

Sadly, we had to leave lovely Pedasi to catch a bus to Panama City for a day and a half stay before our flight back to South America. We did not enjoy Panama City as much as we did some of the other large Latin American cities. It’s pretty spread out and we walked around a lot. It is notoriously dangerous at night and we were even warned by police during the day while walking in the hotel district just a few blocks from our hostel. We visited the Miraflores Locks, one of the three sets of locks on the infamous canal. We were lucky to see a petro-chemical tanker and a huge car carrier pass through on their way to the Pacific. A bit of shopping and many unsuccessful attempts to find some Carnaval celebrations and our time in Panama was done – time to head to Ecuador to find some more surf!

No need to exchange currency here: both Panama and Ecuador use US currency as a means of stabilizing their economies. Panama calls the currency Balboa and although none of their paper money remains, the coins are usually a mixture of US and old Panamanian. Just a little fact I thought you might enjoy.

Another side note: Although less so than in South America, language was a problem for us in Panama. Fewer people speak English in the countries we have visited in Latin America than in any other region we have visited. Kevin’s knowledge of Spanish is virtually nil and I bought a book, “Spanish in 15 Minutes”, while we were in Canada over Christmas but what I didn’t realize was that it meant 15 minutes EVERY DAY for 12 WEEKS. Who has that kind of time? “Spanish in 1,260 Minutes” is what is should be called. Anyhow, not only is it a barrier when trying to converse with the locals, but it can make buying anything from lunch to bus tickets a frustrating experience. My vocabulary is expanding but not as quickly as I would like. My advice to you: Buy the book AT LEAST 12 weeks before you travel to Latin America. Oh yeah, and don’t go to Bocas if it’s raining.

B.

Photos:
Kevin Surfing
Brandy Learning
Friends at the Cantina
Hammock at our Hostel
At the Locks

Our trip from the Chilean border through Bolivia to Arequipa, Peru, took about 36 hours on various qualities of transport modes. But arrive we did in the beautiful colonial town. Basically there were five more adventures we planned on for Peru, the Arequipa area held two – seeing the Andean condors and a bit of mountaineering. To see the condors independent of a tour group meant we would have to limit ourselves to only one partial night in a bed and leave Arequipa on a 1:30 am local bus to be at the viewing area by dawn. The bus let us off on a dark cliff side at about 6:30 am with a group of local vendors. We huddled behind whatever we could find to keep out of the freezing wind, hoping for the morning sun’s warm rays. You know how if you stand and watch the kettle boil it seems to take for ever? Well this is the same thing: it took an eternity for the black line between mountain peak and starry sky to be erased. Ever so slowly the mountainside brightened down into the deep gorge to where a white cloudy mist settled. From what we gathered, this is the second deepest gorge in the world, (though we doubt this after visiting Nepal), and when the sun melts the mist below the condors are to awaken from their nests and soar on the warm thermals inches from our heads on the very wind-swept cliff we were perched. All of this was to be done in time for us to catch the 11 am bus back to Arequipa. Well let me tell you the heat never came, the mist actually crept up the mountain side engulfing us in its freezing shawl, the birds never flew and the homeward bus didn’t show until noon. If it sounds like it sucked, good, because it did.

We got back to Arequipa in time for a good night’s sleep for our second adventure – summiting a 6100 meter mountain called Chachani. I believe there is no mountain this tall in Canada, but this was supposed to be pretty straight forward. In Arequipa we were already up over 3000 meters, we would drive to 4500 meters, trek our gear to 5300 meters, set up camp and then mountaineer the last 800 meters, leaving camp at 2am. The drive up through the barren Andes was great and our trek up to our ´base camp` with 20kg was good but hot and tiring as the sun was blazing and the thin air made it demanding.

We set up our camp under brilliant sunshine with smiles on our faces. Then the clouds chased our warmth and smiles away. The first freezing rain shower chased us into our sleeping bags with frowns on our faces. The first couple of inches of snow allowed regret to creep into our minds. We were to eat a light meal and retire early, allowing ourselves to acclimatize to the high altitude and then begin our summit at 2am. The temperature plummeted with the howling wind and snow and a restless sleep ensued.

We emerged from our frigid cocoons at 1am to warm coca tea and frozen bread under a clearing sky. This time of year the existing snow softens during the warm days and hardens like rock during the chilly nights allowing for easy hiking on this hard surface. The fresh snowfall on top of the soft snow would make for a difficult summit. We started out bundled in our rented snow gear, boots, and gaiters through a rock garden under the light of our headlamps and fleeting stars. When the clouds parted it gave us a glimpse of stars we had never been closer to or seen as clearly. The route up to a 5600 meter saddle between two peaks, one of which we would skirt around, took a lot of energy and time as each step sunk us to our knees and sometimes to our crotch. Once on the saddle we met a harder surface which allowed us to put our crampons on our feet and make pretty good time but within another hour we had to be roped together, were using our ice axes, and were trudging through some deep crap on a very steep slope with only blackness below. After three hours of climbing, we were behind schedule and with seven to nine more hours in front of us, we decided to turn back. Our guide fully supported this move and was not comfortable with the conditions. Once back at the saddle under warm morning skies, the guide offered me a chance to summit a lower yet more technical mountain. Brandy would follow our previous trail back to the tents that could be seen from our location and we would make a quick summit of two hours. Guide Herman set a blistering pace and my lungs burned to keep up to him in the lessening atmosphere. Our ice axes were required to climb the last 150 meters to the summit but we made it!

After getting back to camp we rested briefly, packed our gear and hiked down to the snowless 4500 meter level to await the truck. While it was a real experience and one I enjoyed, let me tell you Brandy did not like even a second of it and was a trooper beyond belief for my sake but she vows that as far as mountaineering goes, that was the last time.

After all that we had an overnight bus to Nazca. I was so wiped out from the climb that our bus was thoroughly searched, stuff thrown out the window, by the police and I never stopped snoring. We got to Nazca by 7am and started searching for a good deal on an early morning flight in a five seat plane that would give us a tour of the Nazca Lines and figures. The rectangular ´landing strips`, directional lines and figures (hummingbird, dog, parrot, spaceman and others) are so huge you can only see them clearly from a plane. No one knows for sure why these ancient lines and symbols were made but let me tell you, they are as clear as day and huge. They lie on a table-flat, rocky desert with miles separating each one. There is lots of speculation about the why’s, I personally like the alien explanation, but it was really incredible to see them, especially from the air.

After 45 minutes in the air, we were soon back on another bus that would take us close to the Pacific Coast and to the world’s highest sand dunes. We were dumped in the oasis town of Huacachina that looked really like an oasis you would see on TV with mountain-sized orange and yellow sand dunes surrounding a palm tree ringed little lake. We found a cheap place with a pool and sat pool side watching the sun set on these sandy mammoths to the blissful tones of Guns n Roses that blared around the pool deck. The next morning after a hearty breakfast at poolside we set out for our real reason for being here - sandboarding! Snowboarding on sand! We rented two boards and started the blistering climb to the top. We were drenched in sweat by the time we got up there so the sand was just sticking to us. We oiled up the base of our boards and tried some runs down into a small bowl. Then we were ready for the big face. Basically you just point your board straight down the hill and go for it. Now it is not like ripping it up on the snow but it was fun and a great experience. It took a very long shower to get all the sand out from every nook and cranny.

So back on a bus to the capital Lima, only four hours this time, where we quickly checked into a hotel and set off to the cliffs over the Pacific that Lima is perched on. Lima is a really pretty city along the coast and the area we stayed in had a long park at the edge of the cliff that looked down on kilometres of beach with lots of surfers enjoying the endless waves. We had come for the paragliding which looked as if it would be spectacular off the cliff and then over the ocean to the beach. But the weather was not on our side. While it was sunny and warm, not warm enough to create an onshore breeze that is required. We still very much enjoyed Lima with its colonial squares and buildings. We visited old churches and monasteries where they buried people in mass graves in creepy catacombs. We spent Valentine’s Day evening in Lima They really get into it there with outdoor dancing and singing and other romantic festivities such as making out in the park.

So far South America has been a trip highlight but we are off to Panama next to see what adventures Central America holds.

Adios for now…

KLH

Congratulations to Garry and Marisa who just welcomed their first child, Gordon (as if either of you will ever have time to read this blog again!).

And a big hello (zdravstvuite) to Brandy’s new little brother Dima who recently arrived from Russia. We are looking forward to meeting you soon!

Photos:
At Condor Gorge
Condor Sighting
Climbing - Day One
Our Camp
2am
It´s not as much fun as it looks...
Kevin Summits
Post Climb Beverage - Arequipa
Nazca Figure and Highway - Hands
Our Plane and Pilot
Poolside at Oasis
Sandflying = Broken Sunglasses
Kevin Rides
Brandy Rides

“Her name was Lola, she was a showgirl…”

So we arrived in Copacabana. OK, not Barry Manilow’s Copacabana, but a nice little town nonetheless. Situated on the Bolivian shore of Lake Titicaca, Copa is much more appealing than Peru’s lakeside town of Puno; a likable tourist mecca full of restaurants, bars and shops selling any type of alpaca wool clothing you could wish for. We got our first taste of how cheap Bolivia would be when we checked into a beautiful new hotel in a fourth floor room with a balcony, lots of windows and a view of the lake for a mere $10 a night. Not the cheapest place we’ve stayed this trip but definitely the nicest for the money.

We spent our first day doing mostly nothing but got ambitious the next day when we decided to hike to a neighbouring village 17 km down a dirt road along the lake. Accompanying us was Marcus, a Swede we had met at dinner the night before. His plan was to do the hike and catch a ferry to a local island. Kevin and I planned to catch a ride in a minibus or something back to Copa. The walk was great: we went along the lake and then up a short hill where we met up with another hiker, an American named Allen. We went up a longer, steeper hill along an ancient Incan road paved with stones. At the top we had a great view of the lake and we stopped to eat the bread, cheese and olives we had brought for lunch. We had a visit from three local children who were very impressed with our binoculars and digital camera. Their grubby hands took all the olives we offered and stuffed them into their grubby pockets for later.

By the time we were done lunch it had been two hours since we had left Copa and we had only seen two vehicles pass by us on the road so Kevin and I decided that instead of taking the risk of being stranded 17 km from our hotel, we would turn back. Marcus decided to return with us and Allen persevered on. By the time we got back to Copa, the first day of the three-day Fiesta de la Viergen d Candelaria was in full swing. Groups of costumed dancers with accompanying bands were winding their way through the streets. Most of the women wore the traditional Bolivian attire while many of the men wore suits in all different colours. There were also more elaborate costumes with masks, hats, and big shiny armor-like suits. Stalls selling beer and various other local homebrew were set up all along the route so Marcus, Kevin and I made ourselves comfortable and watched the show, joined for a while by Kiwis Dale and Mark. The festivities went well into the night, group after group paraded by, some of the costumes getting a bit more risqué as the night wore on. Drinking was as much a part of the parades as the costumes were. Most participants carried glasses or bottles with them. Those whose costumes did not allow for them to get their bottle to their lips had others help them out. We saw more than one drunk man get hauled away mid-parade by his wife or significant other.

A bit later on came one of the most dangerous fireworks displays I have ever witnessed. Three tall, shaky towers were erected and held upright by some poor guys who must have lost a bet. A fuse was lit at the bottom and wheels of sparking fireworks spun around, flinging fiery shrapnel into the crowd and on the ground below as children ran about, stamping out the flames. Each wheel would progressively light the next wheel above until it reached the top in a massive explosion of sparks and fireworks. Shockingly, no one was injured – at least not that we saw.

By the time we turned in around midnight the party was still in full swing with bands playing on all sides of the main plaza and dancing in the streets. We thought that when we met Marcus at 8 am to catch a bus to La Paz the streets would be deserted but we were awoken at 6 am as the bands began assembling in the square. We could see men with tubas, cymbals and baritones running and stumbling down the street and the band played and drank on as we pulled away.

La Paz is set in a deep valley at 3,660 meters. It is an awesome city to approach as the land is a flat desolate plain that suddenly drops away into a steep valley full of city. We descended into the center and had a bit of a struggle finding a decent play to stay, especially since everything in our price range was crap compared to our palace in Copa. The next morning the three of us were picked up at our hostel at 7:30 to begin our mountain bike ride down “The World’s Most Dangerous Road”, also known as Death Road. Also along for the trip was a German who was so hung over that he was vomiting and a Belgian who did not speak. This in no way stopped Marcus, Kevin and I from having the time of our lives.

We were driven up to 4,700 meters above sea level where we were served breakfast and coca tea before getting on our Trek bikes (and yes Dad, I did wear a helmet). For almost 22 km we rode straight down, full out, no brakes, in a full tuck on a paved road that clung to the side of a beautiful deep valley. A few short hills at the end of the 22 km left us gasping for oxygen at the high altitude. The next section was the official Death Road, so named because an average of 100 people die on it each year. It is a single lane dirt/mud/dust/rock track that twists and turns down the valley, often with an unguarded drop of hundreds of meters on the side. Corners deemed to be especially dangerous are manned with flag people (actually mostly children) who control the flow of the sparse traffic – mainly buses and transport trucks. Here our well-worn front shocks and disk brakes got a good workout as we raced downhill, through shallow streams and waterfalls. It’s rainy season in the Andes so we were prepared for the worst but we were blessed with beautiful sunshine and the occasional cloud. It was an exhilarating 4 ½ hours and a total of 63 km down 3,000 meters in elevation to the village and river at the base of the valley. There we did what everyone should do after an awesome mountain bike ride – we had a beer. Then we were driven to a nearby hotel for a hot shower and a big lunch.

The drive back to La Paz took almost five hours, back up the Death Road where we were able to enjoy the scenery much more as we did not have to have our eyes glued to the road in front of us. The number of crosses and memorials on the road was eerie and we later heard that an average of three cyclists go over the edge each year.

The next day we said goodbye to our friend Marcus and boarded a bus south bound to the city of Uyuni. We had to change buses after three hours and the second section was 14 ½ hours of washboard, potholes and washouts along a dirt road that is often impassable in the rainy season. At around 5 am, nine hours into the second leg of our journey, a bus in front of us got stuck on a short loose-rock incline. It took 3 ½ hours of standing around looking at the thing before it was decided to let the bus roll back down the hill to a pullout area to let all the accumulated traffic pass.

The purpose of our trip to Uyuni was to see the Salar de Uyuni, at 12,000 sq km the world’s largest salt flat, the remnants of a prehistoric salt lake. Because we were short on time in Bolivia it was important that we get on a tour the day we arrived and because our bus arrived 3 ½ hours late, we were concerned that we may have to wait a day to book a trip. Luckily the entrepreneurial spirit is alive and well in Bolivia and several agents met our bus offering trips leaving in less than half and hour. So after a quick cup of coffee we were in a Land Rover with our companions for the next three days: Renee from Salem, Oregon; Erica from Madison, Wisconsin; Dwayne from Portland, Oregon; Michael from Ireland; and Karen from Israel. Our guide, France, (from Bolivia) took us out onto the salt flats which in the dry season look like a plain of snow but in the rainy season is covered by a thin layer of water. This is exceptionally beautiful and makes for amazing photographs as it becomes nearly impossible to differentiate the land from the sky. Our tour included “lunch at a salt hotel” a hotel built on the flats entirely out of blocks of salt. “Lunch at a salt hotel” turned out to be eating off the tailgate our of Land Cruiser in the parking lot, which just goes to show that you should always be very specific when booking tours.

After a bit more time on the flats, we headed south through a wide flat plain ringed with snowcapped mountains. We arrived in the town of San Cristobal which was to be our home for the night. Our group of seven was split into two dorm rooms but we quickly established one room as “The Bar” and spent the night drinking Cuban spiced rum and playing cards.

The next day we drove even further south, stopping at several “lagunas” or small lakes. The lakes here are rich with minerals, primarily borax, sulfur and potassium. They are also home to flamingos, those long-legged pink birds that you think only live in the tropics are actually living happily here at over 4,500 meters above sea level. As we drove, the countryside constantly changed from scrubby grassland to rocky moon-like landscapes – some of the most beautiful and amazing scenery I have ever seen. We saw lots of llama and quite a few vecunas, smaller, wild relatives of the llama. We stopped a few times to check out some volcanic rock formations and then entered a national park which had a hostel where we stayed for the night.

As we had consumed all our spiced rum the night before, we were forced to switch to the local brew, some sort of white firewater that actually tasted pretty good (after the second or third drink). More games of cards were dealt and what followed was a night of debauchery the likes of which cannot be described on this website but let’s just say that we each only got about two hours sleep and none of the other hostel guests liked us in the morning.

So our wakeup call at 4:30 came mighty early and we stumbled to collect our gear and get into the Toyota where we all promptly fell asleep. Some time later, France woke us up to see through blurry eyes some geysers and bubbling mud pools caused by some underground volcanic activity. After another short drive and short sleep we were revitalized by a soak in a 30 C hot spring pool and some homemade Bolivian Egg McMuffins courtesy of France. We drove to Laguna Verde, a beautiful aquamarine lake with a perfectly formed volcano in the background. And then we drove within 10 km of the Chilean border where we dropped off Renee at a bus stop of sorts for her onward journey south. Our Cruiser then turned northward and it was a six hour drive back to Uyuni, which mostly involved a lot of napping on behalf of the passengers.

In Uyuni Kevin and I were able to have a quick shower at Michael, Karen and Dwayne’s hostel (there were no showers at our accommodations the two previous nights) and then a pizza and beer before catching our bus back north on the hell road towards La Paz and onward to the Peruvian city of Arequipa. We were lucky in Bolivia both with the people we met and the things we did and saw. It is a beautiful country and we definitely did not budget enough time to see even a little bit of it. I guess we’ll have to go back one day.

B.

Photos:
Copa Celebration
Us with Marcus - Preride
Biking on the Ledge
Post Bike Beer
Death Road Survivours
Kevin on the Salar de Uyuni
Lunch at the Salt Hotel
Kevin on Condor Rock
Erica, Michael, Dwayne, Karen, Brandy, Renee, Kevin
In the Land Cruiser
Bolivian Landscape
At Laguna Verde

I had hoped to complete our Asian adventures without mishaps and got a bare few hours from succeeding. I sent 80% of all my clothes to be laundered in Manila but forgot to pick them up before closing and our flight was for 5am the following morning. After numerous attempts to have the shop opened, I had to accept the fact that I was down to one pair of underwear, one pair of shorts, one socks, one pants and a shirt. With our next stop being the most expensive country in the world, Japan, I was not going to replenish my wardrobe until South America. Thus I was one funky Canadian after a few days in Japan and 36 hours of air transit.

Our goal was to end up in the ancient Incan capital of Cuzco, Peru, and our route was Manila to Tokyo to Houston to Lima with an 8 hour airport layover before catching the first flight to Cuzco. The landing into the mountain valley that Cuzco lies in is called the tea cup as the plane has to dive into the short valley; it was hair raising to say the least.

Cuzco lies at 3400 m above sea level so altitude acclimatization is required. We spent the first two days sleeping, eating, drinking coca tea and shopping for socks and underwear. It is a great town to cool your heels with cobbled, narrow streets, historic Spanish cathedrals and restored Incan ruins. Much of the old buildings in town are built from carved blocks stolen from Incan ruins making the other stone structures look crude. The Inca were master stone masons, industrious agriculturists and fierce warriors that created a large empire starting in Cuzco that stretched from Southern Columbia to Central Chile. Incredibly, this expansion only lasted 100 years before civil war and the Spanish Conquistadors destroyed it.

Cuzco is the jumping off point to the Sacred Valley with its plethora of restored Incan cities and of course the most famous ¨lost city¨, Machu Picchu. We rode a comfortable train that snaked its way beside the riotous Rio Urubamba, clinging to walls of the soaring Andes Mountains. The colour contrasts of the chocolate milk river, jungle covered mountains, marshmallow clouds and snow capped peaks was amazing, making the four hour journey wiz by. We stayed overnight in the town of Aguas Calientes, translation ¨hot water¨, named for its hot springs, before catching the 5:30 am bus that wound its way up 1 km in elevation to the mountain citadel of Machu Picchu, which is only one of the scores the Inca built. The city was ¨discovered¨ by an American in the early 1900´s and the Peruvian government restored it and made it the must see destination for any South American visit. Staying the night in Aguas and catching the first bus guaranteed us some tranquil time to explore before the hordes of gringos, as much as 3,000 per day in high season, polluted the site.

We tumbled off the bus in the dawn light and made our way up a path that gave us a spectacular view of the stone city that sits on the saddle between the mounts (picchus) of Machu and Huayna. The grey stone temples, common buildings, houses and laneways sat on a carpet of emerald grass. Its beauty gave me goose bumps. It’s not so much the quality of the stone work compared to the likes of India or Cambodia as it is the lonesome, isolated mountain top location. We wandered around the ruins for a few hours, bumping into very few other awed gringos greeting in hushed tones that the place seemed to demand before we hiked up the sheer walled Huayna Picchu that perches over the ruins. The view over the lost city was incredible and we sat watching dense pockets of clouds race up the mountain walls, engulfing Machu Picchu before falling off into the adjacent gorge. While I thought the accent up the front side of Huayna was an adventurous rush, the decent down the back side was almost madness. They say five people died last year on this trek and after the experience, I’m surprised it was only five! When we got back to the ruins the hordes had arrived and it did not seem as irreverent as the morning but it was fun watching the horny llamas mow down a few tourists in the tight alley ways.

Big ¨hi¨ to Desiree and Ryan, a couple from Calgary that we shared good food, beer and laughs with in Cuzco and Aguas Calientes. Sorry we missed you at M.P!

Next stop was the Sacred Valley town of Ollantaytambo, which has been continuously inhabited by the Inca since the 13th century. The town’s buildings and alleys are made from precise massive stone blocks laid 800 years ago and it is dominated by an Incan fortress on one mountain side and an ancient prison and temples on the other. Again, it was peaceful to wander here right up to the late afternoon arrival of the tour package hordes, some 20 bus loads. We had some special moments when we introduced a young girl to binoculars and we learned some more Spanish from a couple of local boys.

The next day saw us bussing to Pisac and another Incan citadel. This one required a gasping two hour hike up a mountain side terraced for agriculture as most of the 150km long Sacred Valley is. The quantity and quality of the Inca terraces is unrivalled by any I have ever seen, including the Philippines.

Our next caper was to get to Puno located at 3,800 m on Lake Titicaca, the highest navigable lake in the world and home to the Uros people who craft and live on floating islands made of reeds. We invested in a two day tour of this lake. The boat held twenty gringos and set out in a cold morning downpour that turned into a brilliant thin atmosphere sunny day. Unfortunately our visit to a reed island community was in the downpour part of the day, but was still amazing to see how these people craft everything, including their boats, from reeds. The island was about the size of a football field and centuries old, they just keep replenishing the reeds.

For the most part, villages still cling to their traditional ways of life and to the traditional costume. The garb has many meanings such as status, family, marital status and tribe. All plainly displayed for locals, for us it is just another Peruvian treat. The food is a delicious mix of fresh vegetables, meat or fish and spices or sauces. I have been able to partake in two cute and cuddly animals: one, the adorable roast alpaca and the other the fuzzy fried guinea pig. And yes, it still had its fur on.

We then made our way to Isla Amantani where we were billeted with a family for the night, staying in a two storey mud brick home. The island is completely terraced and there is hardly a square meter not farmed. The tour group reconvened for a hike to the highest peak to watch the sun set. We befriended two Dutch guys, Jesse and Dennis and we enjoyed the fabulous views from the 4,100m peak where the lake gave us a spectacular gift of isolated rain bursts that created vertical rainbows in the sunset. The vivid colour columns set against the deep blue lake and far off snow capped peaks set everyone’s mouth agape.

After a typical rice dinner with our host family, we were adorned in the island’s typical costume and escorted to the town hall. Brandy’s outfit consisted of two layers of skirts, cumber bund, shirt and shawl, all intricately stitched in colourful patterns. I had to wear a poncho. We both had to wear alpaca hats knitted by our host mother so our family could pick us out from the other gringos. Needless to say, it was cumbersome for us both. The town hall or ¨disco¨ had a broken lock so the window had to be smashed and after one local casualty from the glass we were in and got down to some serious folk dancing. It was a cross between line and square dancing to three duelling bands. It really was a blast though somewhat sweaty as the songs were 10 to 15 minutes long. To catch relief from dancing we stepped outside to be awed by a clear night sky. The lack of light pollution and thin atmosphere brought us closer to the heavens than ever before and showed stars we had never even imagined. It was too much, really.

After a few hours of this we bedded down in our five foot high room and five foot long bed to a night so quiet you could hear a fish burp half a mile away. We got to use a night pot and really preferred it to the outhouse.

The next day had us hike Isla Taquile where we had a fresh lake trout feed and then a long sunny boat ride back to Puno. We sent Dennis and Jesse off to Arequipa after a few beers and we made our way to Bolivia and even higher elevations and adventures.

Adios until next posting,

KLH

Photos:
Cuzco Plaza
Ryan and Desiree and Dinner
Brandy and Llamas at Machu Picchu
Us at Machu Picchu
Machu Picchu
Girl with Binoculars
Traditional Woman and Child
Andean Valley
Kevin and his Guinea Pig
Floating Islands of Uros
Dressed up for the Dance
Our Host Mother and House
Dennis, Brandy and Jesse

FFP:
Fashion Plate at Machu Picchu

Back on the Road...

Another flight across the Pacific brought us back to Kuala Lumpur where we had to spend the night before catching an early morning flight to Manila. Despite some of the things we had heard about the city of 10 million+, we found it easy to negotiate, safe, and the people extremely friendly and helpful. All of the street signs and store signs are in English, a legacy left over from years of US occupation. But with only twelve days in this country of over 7,000 islands, we did not want to waste any time in a big city.

We caught a bus northwest to the coastal town of Lucap where we planned and executed several much-needed days of total relaxation. With a little bungalow built out over the water as our home base, we hired a boat each day to take us just offshore to the Hundred Islands National Park. The first day we did some island-hopping and exploring starting with a swim into an underwater cave and followed by a snorkel in a protected reef area. Years of destructive fishing practices, including cyanide and dynamite fishing, have all but destroyed the coral in these parts and measures are underway to rejuvenate the reef by planting giant clams. These clams start off in a lab and then are transplanted in this “garden” where they grow up to four feet in diameter. Whatever it is the clams do seems to be working... the reef is coming back to life and we saw some beautiful coral and tropical fish.

The next two and a half days we spent on our own private white sand beach, a small stretch of sand linking two of the small islands. Our hotel packed us a lunch and our boat dropped us off in the morning and pick us up in the afternoon. Evenings were spent in Lucap, with hardly another tourist to be seen, eating seafood and drinking $0.50 beer in a restaurant overlooking the islands... paradise!

But we can only sit still for so long and it was time to move on. We took a ten-hour, three-bus journey east from the coast and up into the Cordillera Mountains, through the highest pass on the Philippines Highway system (2,255m) and along a narrow, winding, dirt road. The third bus ride was 148km long and took 6 ½ hours... it was slow going but beautiful scenery along the way. We had to spend the night in the city of Bontoc before catching the typical local transportation, a Jeepney (see photo below) for an hour up an even steeper, windier, bumpier road.

Finally we had made it to Sagada and it was worth the trip. Situated on the top of the mountains at 1,500m, Sagada is a peaceful paradise. No pollution, a focus on a sustainable environment, and not a karaoke bar in sight (or sound). Sagada's most famous attraction is its hanging coffins. This custom, unique to this area, dates back centuries. The dead are crammed into wooden coffins (and I mean crammed – most of the coffins are no longer than three feet long) and then suspended on one of the limestone cliff walls or shoved into one of the many crevices or caves. The coffins are abandoned after that, no maintenance is done, no flowers are placed. So obviously after some time the wood deteriorates to the point where the bones spill out onto the ground below. A hike through a valley of hanging coffins and burial caves brought us upon human bones more than once .

The next day we hired a guide to take us hiking to a nearby cave. This cave was not a burial cave but its accessible tunnels run for more than a kilometre. With only the light of our guide's lantern, we entered a huge gaping hole and scrambled down a steep trail, slippery with moisture and bat crap. Finally we were deep enough in the cave to escape the bats and the tunnel narrowed significantly. An underground river seeped out of cracks in the walls to create giant limestone and calcium formations and deep pools of water. Here we removed our shoes and carefully climbed along ridges and through shallow pools. At some points we used ropes to help repel down steep walls. At last we came to “The Tunnel” where we had to slide feet first through a small opening and drop into a waist deep pool of cold water. A narrow corridor lead us into a large cavern where the walls where covered in fossilized shells and fish. Slowly we made our way back to the mouth of the cave where we were met by the police who where there to investigate the theft of some flip flops (thankfully not ours).

On the way back to town our guide took us to one of the largest burial caves in the area where there are over 100 coffins stacked in the entrance. Some of these are over 500 years old but coffins are still being added to this day.

As we have learned, getting anywhere in the Philippines takes a long time so we were prepared for the half day journey to our next destination of Banaue. This trip was made even longer by a flat tire on our ready-for-the-junk-yard-bus, but these things are all part of the adventure.

At 1,200m, Banaue is best known for its rice terraces, many of which are over 3,000 years old. In the steep valleys, these terraces look like the contour lines on a map. Our hotel was built on the side of the valley and the restaurant had a great view of th town below and the terraces above. Here we shared beer and stories with Sharon and Spence from our neck of the woods, Cedar by the Sea on Vancouver Island. The next morning after a night of heavy rain, we awoke to sunny skies. We hiked up steep steps and along the earthen walls of the terraces to a waterfall high above the town, passing small traditional settlements along the way. Later in the afternoon we took a ride in a motorcycle sidecar (called tricycles here) to a lookout where the views of the terraces were spectacular.

Time again for another epic bus ride, ten hours from Banaue back to a northern Manila suburb where we hopped the LRT for a ride into town. The next day was a day to explore the city and we attended one of the premier sporting events in the Philippines (PETA members, skip the rest of this paragraph) a cockfight. A large arena to the south of the city was the venue for this event that sometimes sees over 100 fights a day. The room was crowded and noisy: I was the only woman there. A friendly Filipino named Michael walked us through the action. The roosters are clearly bred to detest one another. The two fighters with blades strapped to one of their legs are brought into the ring by their handlers and two other roosters are there as well just to get the fighters good and angry. Bets are placed by some sort of yelling, squealing, hissing, sign language combination that was far to much for us to comprehend. Then the two roosters are let at each other. They are given ten minutes but we never saw a fight go longer than five. One rooster is either maimed or killed and a winner is declared. It's all quite violent but not as bloody as I expected and apparently they make a very nice curry out of the roosters after it's all said and done.

So now we're ready to check off another continent off our list. We have a one-night stopover in Tokyo before heading off to South America. Asia has been a blast but we're ready for something new...

B.

Photos:
Our Boat at 100 Islands
Our Beach at 100 Islands
Sagada Hanging Coffins
Somebody's Head
In the Cave
Cave Formations
Hiking the Rice Terraces
At the Lookout
Rice Terraces
Cockfight Betting
Roosters in Action
Jeepney

This FFP comes straight from the cockfight. Nice salad...
Cockfight FFP