In and out of QUITO

DAY 52

Today was our last official day to explore South America, so naturally, we started off with our favorite--another bus ride.  This time, the ride was short, sweet and somewhat uneventful (other than the girl in front of us throwing up--terrible smell for the rest of the ride). 

After reaching Quito's suprisingly large, modern, and clean bus terminal (the first of its kind that we've seen in South America), we checked into our hostel in Old Town, and explored the surrounding neighborhood. 

Like many other South American cities we've visited on our trip, Quito was complete with European-style architecture, numerous statues, grand Catholic churches, and museums of all sorts.  Unfortunately, as we were only in Quito for around 15 hours, we were unable to fit in everything that the city has to offer.  We were, however, able to walk through the park across the street, check out the Basilica, grub on more street food, and see an outdoor theatrical play in one of the city's main plazas.

Our final day was bittersweet.  We have been able to see and do some amazing things during the past two months and got a quick peek into the cities, landscapes, and people of South America.  We are both, however, ready to restart life in America where we have a safe, comfortable bed to sleep in (as opposed to, say, a bus or train station), our own means of transportation, and the resources to maintain our health, hygiene, and nutrition.  We feel very blessed for the opportunity that we were given to be able to experience such rich and diverse cultures, but we are ready to come home to our family and friends. 

See you back in the States!

Ciao Ciao!

Relaaxxing in BANOS

DAY 50

Go figure, our last long bus ride had to be the problematic one. We set off on time from Loja for our 10 hour bus trip to Ambato. Just as we had fallen into a shallow sleep, we awoke at 3 a.m. to a loud jolt that lifted us out of our seats. There were also several grown men screaming. The bus driver had hit a speed bump or curb at a high speed that woke everyone up (and apparently resulted in screaming men). The bus stopped to check out the damage, changed drivers, and continued on its way. About 30 minutes down the road, we heard a loud thumping sound coming from our side of the bus. We had blown a tire--likely a result of the large something that we hit half an hour before. For the next hour or so, we waited for the drivers to change the tire. Finally, we continued on our way without another hitch, but without any sleep.

Upon reaching Banos, we were tired, cranky and were severely lacking in caffeine. After a short nap and caffeine injection at a corner cafe, we decided to check out the town. It began to rain while we were checking out the town's food market, which was definitely the best place to get stuck. Until the rain lifted, we tried little bits of everything from the Naranjilla (a citrus fruit that you suck the gooey juice and seeds out from), a banana and cheese empanada, and a hot fried potato cake.

Afterwards, we went back to the hostel with loaded bellies and empty wallets. Still a bit tired from our lack of sleep, we rested up for our second rendezvous around town. This time, we checked out a taffy shop where we tried varieties hot off the wooden block they stretch it on, the base of a small waterfall that we can see from our hostel room, and the church. After a big dinner, we caught up on some well needed rest.

DAY 51

After breakfast, we took the 2 km. hike uphill to one of the town's many thermal springs.  As we neared the summit, we were rewarded with a bird's eye view of the town and a grand vista of the Tungurahua volcano, the largest in Ecuador and the source of heat for the thermal baths.  We spent all morning and afternoon relaxing our travel-weary bodies in the mineral rich pools surrounded by the lush scenery.

After hours of relaxation (for only $3!), we headed back into town to check out some more shops and street food. After a strawberry cake and grilled corn, I almost grabbed a plate of cow intestine for dinner before deciding against it.  Although it suprisingly smelled delicious on the grill (and didn't look so bad either), I figured I'd best not subject myself to stomach issues the day before a bus ride to Quito then a series of flights home.  We opted for a sit down dinner instead.

Losing time in VILCABAMBA

DAY 47

If a Fountain of Youth exists anywhere, it's in Vilcabamba, aptly deemed the "Valley of Longetivity". Vilcabamba is known for having inhabitants who exceed well beyond 100 years old, even up to 120-135 years. This phenomena is attributed to several things--the mineral-rich drinking water (which we are drinking buckets of, just in case), the slow pace of life, and antioxidant-rich foods that grow naturally throughout the landscape. With any luck, our short stint here will at least help us stay in good heath for the remainder of our journey.

Although we were quite burnt out from our travels, the small village nestled between two verdant valleys lifted our energy. After checking into our secluded hilltop hostel that overlooks the town, we took the 2 km. hike into town. Along the roadside were numerous plants, flowers, and fruits that grew wild in the lush region.

Upon reaching town, it began to rain. We checked out a few artisan shops and stopped under a canopy for some yogurt before making the trek back uphill.
For dinner, we ate at the hostel restaurant which overlooks the sweet little valley and had a long, well-needed rest.

DAY 48

"I've been through the desert on a horse with no name. It felt good to be out of the rain."
We awoke this morning to the prospect of a sunny day. After breakfast, we went on a 4 hour horseback ride through Vilcabamba's outskirts with three other girls from our hostel. We galloped up and down steep mountain slopes, traversed a river, and encountered several quaint villages along the way. Mom's horse (who didn't have a name) was by far the most mean-spirited one of the bunch. He bit my horse, Tequila, several times and tried to bite every horse that tried to pass it. By the time our bums had had quite enough abuse, we reached town and started our weary 2 km. hike back uphill to our hostel.

After a shower and a cold beverage at the restaurant, we relaxed in hammocks overlooking Vilcabamba for an hour or so (mostly for the fact that this was one of the few places where it didn't hurt to sit).

DAY 49

We rested our aching bodies before heading into town, where we sipped coffee in the main square while watching two people put on a show including string puppets and an accordian. Apparently, artisan hippie types come to Vilcabamba from all over South America to set up shop as a jewelry maker or play the accordian on the church steps in the main square.

In contrast to the slow, peaceful pace of Vilcabamba, we next had to contend with the hectic bus scheduling that I lay ahead of us to our next stop.

Big waves on the PERUVIAN COAST

DAY 42

HUANCHACO: We arrived on the coast of Peru the night before and did nothing but hit the sack after our long journey. In the morning, we awoke refreshed and ready to explore this old fishing village turned surf town. There were numerous surf shops, seafood restaurants, and street vendors selling the same trinkets that we've seen in every previous city we've visited. After getting some street sorbet and popcorn, we headed to the peir where people were fishing by using a simple contraption composed of a fishing line, a block of wood, and a hook. Their secret lie in their gourmet bait--tiny live crabs. Compared to some of the things I've used as bait--bread, hot dogs, worms, nothing--it's no wonder why my fishing record isn't all that great.

We had to go into town to take care of logistics which meant we had to take, for the first time, a combi. A combi is a minivan that people cram into for the equivalent of 75 cents to get from one place to another. These elusive vehicles are difficult to catch if you don't know exactly where you're going. A young boy hastily screams out the names of streets and neighborhoods in the same way an auctioneer would try to sell a fresh litter of pigs. There seem to be no stops.  You simply flag one down or jump in front of the thing in the middle of the street when the right one comes your direction. Most of the time, by the time the boy is done screaming out names, the bus had already whizzed past you blaring its loud music. After watching several pass by without hearing any recognizable names, we blindly jumped out in front of one hoping it would get near where we wanted to go. I bumped my head on the way in as the door is made for a midget (mom, of course, had no problem). Once I thought I was comfortably settled into the van, I realized that the ceiling was so short that I had to bend my neck to fit. Furthermore, the windows were far below my eye level, so I was left to ponder the culprit of stains on ceiling for the rest of the journey. 

DAY 43

We spent much of our day watching waves that were surmounting to abnormally extreme heights. There was no storm, rain, or any other inclement weather, but for some reason (maybe post-earthquake mini-tsunami?) the waves in Huanchaco were reaching enormous heights. The pier was closed, there was no sandy beach to be seen, and the road alongside the beach was entirely flooded. At one point, mom went on a walk on the main street and came back wet from a wave that had attacked her on the street. Beachfront stores were loaded with sandbags and our own hostel was chopping up the road to build a canal using the broken gravel.

After watching the sun set over the ocean, we headed to town to catch our northbound bus.



DAY 44

MANCORA: At 6 a.m., we reached another surfer beach town about 9 hours north of Huanchaco. Mancora is a much nicer, touristy type of town with more seafood restaurants, bars, and beach vendors. At any time of day, we can look out from our hostel room and see surfers and beach bums abound in the water and small beach. Once again, the waves here are abnormally large. The restuarants and stores along the beachfront, including our hostel, had sandbags at their entrances.

Although it too is a fishing town, the fishing area is seperated from the hotels, restaurants, and surf schools by a few kilometers. We took a walk along the beach to the fishing port where buyers (and large black sea birds) hovered around the fishing ships for the fresh catches of the day.

DAY 45
Another easy day frolicking in the waves. We hit the beach early so as not to get too roasted, grabbed some ceviche (twice), then returned to the hostel for an afternoon nap.  Enjoyed another beautiful sunset from our balcony before turning in for the night.

DAY 46

We checked out of our hostel but hung around the pool all day.  Took an evening bus to our next and final country, Ecuador!

Sights and sounds of the AMAZON RIVER BASIN

DAY 38

Tambopata: The instant we landed in Puerto Maldonado--a city on the cusp of civilization and the raw jungle of the Amazon River Basin--a sweltering humidity (similar to that of steamy summer days in the South) smacked us in the face. From the airport, we took a bus along a clay dirt path lined with tropical fruit trees, livestock, and a small village dotted here and there until the path ended at a small grass hut. From there, we took a 45 minute boat ride down the Tambopata River to our lodge. By the riverside, we saw numerous turtles basking on branches in the sunlight, monkeys playing atop tall trees, and colorful birds taking flight upon our approach.

Our accommodation, Posadas Amazonas lodge, is an eco-reserve on its own piece of the Amazon rainforest. There is no electriciy, no hot water, and one of the walls to our refuge was completely open to the jungle (literally, the wall was just missing!). From our lodge we saw numerous animals including three types of monkeys, wild turkeys, lizards, birds, and a large rodent called agouti.

We took a walk through the jungle near sunset where we saw noctournal ants busy at work, colorful birds including macaws and parakeets, and a variety of interesting flora including the Brazilian nut tree (yummy!), cocoa, and "walking palm"--a tree that actually grows legs and gradually moves toward water and nutrients underground. At the end of our walk, we made a visit to a canopy tower in the forest for sunset.

At night, we fell asleep to the sweet music of crickets, cicadas, and owls and slept with a firm reliance on the mosquito netting over our beds. I have to admit that it was quite romantic jotting down my thoughts by good old fashioned ink by candlelight in our refuge and waking up to the sound of shrill macaws, laughing monkeys, or from the heat of the early morning sun.

DAY 39

This morning we awoke at 4:30 a.m. for a cruise in the Tres Chimbadas oxbow lake. In order to get to the lake required a hike, boat ride back down the Tambopata, another hike, then finally another boat to the lake. The pre-dawn wake-up call was certainly worth it, as the animals tend to be more alive first thing in the morning.

 

We had the priviledge of catching a rare siting of an otter family fishing for breakfast. Unlike those in the U.S. (of which I've only seen in zoos), the otters in this lake were up to 6 feet in length! After quietly following the otter family for a while and taking in other sites such as bats roosting on a branch and wild turkeys on the shore, we decided to kick it up a notch by going piranha fishing. I guess I wasn't quite with the program, as I was the only person who caught something that wasn't a piranha. Just some kind of tame silvery fish.  Oops!

Later in the afternoon, we took a boat ride to visit the Shaman and his medicinal garden, a clinic of sorts for those in the community who are unable to afford a doctor. The garden is filled with natural plants that act as antedotes for illnesses such as stomach ulcers, early stages of cancer, severe cough, and diarrhea. Oddities in the garden included a leaf that acts as a local anesthetic, a normal looking green leaf that leaves behind a natural reddish-purple dye, and a plant called "Para-Para" which acts as a natural viagra. As we had the privilege of trying these, we left with a numb mouth, purple hands, and a lot of energy. The most important plant in the garden, or Master Plant, is the Ayahuasca, a hallucinogenic plant that works in the brain to unveil the root of a patient's disease. The plant can only be taken in a ritual at midnight with the oversight of the Shaman himself. People come from all over the country to undergo this ritual in the final hopes of curing their diseases.

DAY 40

This morning, we chanced upon an unusual sight. On our way to a clay lick to see macaws and parakeets, we heard a small, terrified squealing nearby. After a bit of poking around, we found a tiny wild piglet with its family nowhere in sight. Its umbilical cord still attached, and we reckoned that the babe was born no more than a few days before. After a lot of patience (on our part) and stumbling around (on the babe's part), he finally came towards us within reach. Unfortunately, as it was a thing born of the wild, the tour guide insisted that it be left there and that the family was likely to return. After lunch, we returned to the same path to find that the piglet was gone.

After dinner, we took a night walk to seek out snakes and insects with our flashlight. Mom reasoned that she didn't need to seek out things she didn't want to see and decided to stay in the lodge. From our vantage point (in insect-infested waters up to our ankles), we were successful in sighting a huge mother spider carrying eggs, bright frogs and tadpoles, two grasshoppers mating, and a non-poisonous snake slithering in a tree nearby.

DAY 41

The serenity of the jungle was something that seemed to make time stand still. The pace was much slower, but I spent more worthwhile time by simply sitting in a hammock and soaking in the jungle than I ever have with a busy schedule to contend with. Although I wanted to take advantage of the peaceful pace of the rainforest for much longer, we set off today for a little sunshine by the coast.

Carnival followed us to CUSCO

DAY 33

This morning we heard the devastating report about the earthquake and subsequent tsunami that struck Japan during the night. Unfortunately, as with news service in any country, coverage of the event was solely concerned with the effect the natural disaster would have on their own country. Coastal Peruvians were preparing for a tsunami that would inevitably hit their coast (it didn't), experts discussed hypothetical calculations regarding whether or not Peru would be ready for a tsunami of that magnitude to strike (they weren't), Presidential candidates made statements regarding the crisis, and local phone companies advertised free texting to Japan.

After a 7 hour bus ride to Cusco, we snagged a national newspaper titled "Fin del Mundo!"--"End of the the World!" (Yes, this is, in fact, a national newspaper. Not yellow journalism, a tabloid, or any other type of sensationalism.) Inside the pages, we found the same issue--it was entirely Peruvian-based. Knowing the same amount as we did earlier in the morning, we checked into our hostel quite uninformed.

Due to Cusco being the primary stomping ground for the hundreds of travelers to Machu Picchu and our lack of internet access in previous ports, we were provided a fine opportunity to stay in one of the only rooms available in the city--the Master Suite at our hostel of choice. The suite was, of course, a bit pricier than the standard double room or dorm, but it was worth every penny with its panoramic view of the city, jacuzzi, and quirky arrangement of Alice in Wonderland-esque decor. As we had decided to skip one of our proposed destinations, Arequipa, we needed a proper launching point to take care of logistics and relax.

DAYS 34, 35, 37

Laundry, logistics, blah, blah, blah. To counter our accommodation expenses, we stocked up on fresh produce from the nearby marketplace and made most of our own meals in lieu of going out.
Although I was certain Carnival was over, I was wrong. Carnival followed us to Cusco, so we checked out some of the parades, music, and swarms of kids with water balloons and silly string spray cans. Defenseless, we usually returned to our rooms soaked and covered in strands of neon pink.

DAY 36

MACHU PICCHU: We started off the morning with yet another bus driver who thought he was Dale Earnhardt Jr. His eye-widening traverse along steep mountainous switchback roads kept us on our toes and cancelled out our usual requirement of caffeine for the day. Thankfully, the road ended in Ollantantaymbo, a town between Cusco and Aguas Calientes (the last town before Machu Picchu). As there are no paved roads to Aguas Calientes, we were forced to take the expensive British-owned monopoly...I mean, train...to Machu Picchu.

Although we didn't like the price, we thoroughly enjoyed the comfort of the train, the beautiful scenery, and the service aboard. Prior to our two month journey, mom had a certain affinity towards trains as Japan has one of the best train systems in the world. However, upon our most recent uncomfortable train voyages in Bolivia, she has recanted her former love for locomotives. PeruRail, however, resparked her first love. There was a food a beverage service similar to that on an airplane, comfortable seats, and large panoramic windows. We chugged alongside a Class 5+ river with a view of lush green mountains in the background.

After reaching Aguas Calientes, a tiny town at the base of the mountain that hides Machu Picchu, we took a 30 minute bus to the site. I anticipated swarms of tourists covering an otherwise grand site. Having somewhat low expectations of the site (ridiculous, I know... It's Machu Picchu!), I was pleasantly surprised that there were not as many tourist groups as I had imagined, although still a lot.

We took the opposite route as tour groups, which proved to our advantage. I was even able to climb down a set of stairs that led nowhere (there are a lot of these) without seeing a soul for at least 15 minutes. Llamas and a few construction workers worked to maintain the landscape and prevent the heavy stonework from sliding down the slopes of the mountain. The site looks exactly as it does in any picture you might have ever seen of it. The archeological site that sits amongst Machu Picchu ("Old Mountain") and Wayna Picchu ("Young Mountain") is a steeply-sloped, elaborate city complete with an agricultural sector, urban center, and intricate stonework at every turn.

Even after exploring the site to its fullest extent, we still had time before our evening train left. In order to further reduce our contact with tour groups, we decided to walk back down to Aguas Calientes instead of taking the bus. The vista from every point during our walk was complete with a view of lush green mountains that stood at gaping heights and the sound of the roaring muddy river below. The walk gave us the chance to get a detailed look of the surrounding area and its wildlife. Wildflowers of every type and color grew everywhere, as the area is moist, yet also open to sunlight. The steeply winding road was interjectedly cut by a steep stone staircase that we were able to break our knees on during our walk down.

Upon reaching Aguas Calientes, we grabbed a quick bite and doggedly commenced our return trip back to Cusco.

Brilliant Sunsets over LAKE TITICACA

DAY 28

Copacabana:  We took a 3 ½ hour bus ride to Copacabana on the Bolivian side of Lake Titicaca, the highest navigable lake in the world. Along the roadside, more ladies in traditional dress tended to fields of quinoa or herded sheep, bulls, pigs, and other livestock.  What the men do in this country is beyond me.

After about 2 ½ hours, we had to disembark from the bus, take a boat across the lake, and meet up with the bus again on the other side. From that point on, it was an uphill climb towards Copacabana.

Once we reached Copacabana, it was more uphill climbing on foot to our hilltop hostel—an Arabian-style hostel with gardens, statues, hammocks, and a grand view of Lake Titicaca. 

Once settled in, we took a stroll down to the lake. Vendors were renting out every variety of boat imaginable from kayaks, tacky swan paddle boats, and reed boats in the shape of dragons.  Restaurants with identical bland menus of trout, potatoes, rice, vegetables, and quinoa soup lined the dirt boardwalk.  Thankfully, the lake was not overwhelmingly swarming with tourists, so we were able to settle in on a quiet, warm patch of rocks.

Unfortunately, our peaceful moment by the lake was soon interrupted by a duo of borrachos who attempted to feed us some unknown alcohol from a juice bottle and read our fortune in a deck of cards.  Noting our queue to leave, we headed to town to check out the street market and Carnaval festivities in town.

After taking care of a few logistics, we climbed the steepest hill we could find for a view of the sunset over Lake Titicaca. As with most terrain around here, the “hill”, Cierro Calvaio, was nothing to sneeze at. A steep incline of rocks climbed straight up to an elevation of 4,000 meters.  As the slant was quite an intimidating one, mom decided to stay near the bottom as I scrambled up for a better view.

Just as the sun was beginning to set, lo and behold, I see mom standing at the summit.

“I had to prove to my daughter that I’m not old,” she said.

Duly noted, I swore off all old jokes for at least a week.

DAY 29

Isla del Sol:  According to Incan mythology, this island is said to be where the sun was first born—understandably so, as the island’s peak sits at a lofty 4,000 meter altitude, as close to the sun as we’d like to come we soon found out.  The island is surrounded by Lake Titicaca’s dazzlingly bright water which reflects the island’s essential creation like a mirror broken into a million pieces.  Despite the chilly climate, heat from the sun managed to cook through our clothing and warm our skin beneath.

After a 2 ½ hour boat ride, we ported into Cha’llapampa on the north side of the island.  From there, I had just enough time for to hike through terraced hillside farms and pre-Inca ruins to catch some beautiful views of the lake below.  At Cha’llapampa’s peak, I was also able to see the void amongst a triangle of islands where the sunken city of Marca Pampa lives.  Afterwards, I sprinted down to meet mom by the beachside to set off by boat toward the island’s south. 

Yumani, the island’s southern city, is settled at an elevation of more than 4,000 meters.  There are no streets, addresses, or alternative modes of transportation other than your own two feet.  So we walked.  The 1 ½ hour climb was certainly not an easy one at that high of an elevation.  Any wrong turn easily burned an entire day’s worth of calories and was sure to intensify the sunburn that we got earlier that morning.  The only way to find the hostel was asking livestock-laden locals if we were headed the right direction. 

“Si, mas arriba” they kept saying as they pointed toward the sky. 

80-year-old women carrying piles of firewood equivalent to their own weight and children carrying other children in blankets on their backs seemed to almost snicker as they responded in their lighthearted manner, as if the climb was really no big deal.

Eventually, when we were close, a young farmhand left the livestock that she was tending to in order to get us to the right place.

Mom cursed and spat her way up the rest of the monstrous hill (without actually cursing or spitting, of course) as I attempted to chat it up with the friendly young lady between breaths.  Upon reaching the top, I was speechless. The 360-degree view of the island was absolutely mind-blowing.  From any position, a gorgeous vista overlooking a different part of the island, lake, or Cordillera Mountains was within reach. 

Furthermore, I was struck by the simple beauty of the pueblo that sat atop the island.  Although the village was small, there were cliff-top restaurant cafes next to simple adobe houses next to all varieties of livestock—all  with jaw-dropping views of the lake and surrounding islands.  More terraced hillside farms with colorfully dressed women lined the island’s mountainside which dropped steeply beneath the town.

 We went to one of the few small restaurants in town, where it turns out the young farmhand was also the cook.  Small village.  As soon as the sun sank deep beneath the hillside, millions of stars illuminated the night sky alongside a bright sliver of a crescent moon.  This naturally beautiful, hard to reach place, was certainly worth the trek as it was an authentic look into simple, daily Bolivian life on one helluva beautiful island.

DAY 30

We awoke early in the morning by the light of the sun shining through our window.  Too alive to go back to sleep, we strolled down toward the boat dock, which only took 30 minutes on the way down.  As it was still early, we were the first ones there.  Slowly, we watched the sleepy town wake up.  Boat operators came down to ready the boats with gasoline and life jackets, passengers stumbled down the “Inca Stairway” one by one, waves in the lake intensified, and the sun gradually burned off distant clouds revealing the snow-drenched Cordillera Mountains on the horizon.

We loaded a boat that held more people than considered safe, and headed back to Copacabana.  As we only had 50 Bolivianos (the equivalent of around $7) at the time of our landing, we decided to hit up the street markets to make our own lunch.  In Bolivia, $7 can get you a lot.  We gathered items for a feast of homemade sandwiches, soup, yogurt, fresh fruit, and tea with some change to spare.

After watching some Carnaval celebrations in town, we turned in early to the sound of fireworks until 1 a.m.

DAY 31

After a delicious breakfast and easy morning at the hostel, we set off towards Puno, Peru on the other side of Lake Titicaca.  We reached the border in less than 30 minutes after setting off.  Slight changes in the scenery became evident.  The houses became more modern in style, yellow flowers covered the landscape, and simple advertisements for presidential candidates were painted on the sides of fences and barns (as it is election year for Peru).

Unfortunately, due to our lack of internet access at the previous port, we were unable to book a hostel and had to settle for a cheap hotel instead.  After exploring our neighborhood, we turned in to our simple dark room with the only window facing a concrete wall.

DAY 32

Floating Islands of the Uros:  Today, we visited the highly commercialized "Islas Flotanas"--the floating islands of the Uros people.  The Uros, a timid pre-Inca population, were chased from their home on the coast of Lake TIticaca by the domineering Incas.  In order to survive, they built artificial islands from reeds in the lake.  The basis of every part of their existence--transportation, lodging, income, and nutrition--relies on these reeds.

The nutritional variation of the families on the islands is narrow.  They survive on the small amount of livestock they raise, fish, edible reeds, and dried potatoes.  Luxuries in the form of fresh fruits and vegetables, fresh bread, and dairy are hard to come by.

Our boat was one of many to visit the islands, around 75 in all, each housing a different family.  At the first island, we were greeted by a song-and-dance by the family that lived there.  After a small introduction to how they built the island (very fascinating!), we were swept away by a young mother into her humble reed home.  Inside contained one reed mattress for her husband, son, and her to share, some woven decorations, and a few changes of clothes.

After playing dress-up with her clothes and checking our her "market" of wares, we headed off to island #2--a purely commercial island with restaurants, faux passport stamps, handmade crafts, and overpriced beverages catered for the tourists that stop there.

Although the history of the floating islands and the lifestyle of the Uros people are fascinating, it was a bit disheartening to see the entire population's livelihood based on tourism.  The tour operator assured us that other than the few hours each day when tour groups visit, they operate in their routine, traditional fashion, including changing into less flashy clothing, trading food with other families, and maintaining the construction of their island and homes.  Unfortunately, this was not the lifestyle that we got to see.

The bustling streets of LA PAZ

DAY 26

After a sleepless night on the cold, bumpy train we reached Oruro to find that it was packed with people getting ready for Carnaval, the city’s biggest 3-day celebration of the year.  Rio de Janiero is best known for its insanely huge festival of music, dance, and booze; however, we soon discovered that Oruro—surprisingly—holds the second-largest Carnaval celebration.  So, naturally, we darted out of there as quickly as possible.

We reached La Paz without a hitch—without sleep—but without any trouble.  According to anecdotes from our fellow travelers, we expected La Paz—particularly the bus station, taxis, and busy markets—to be the most dangerous of our travels thus far, so saying that we got through all of the above in a matter of an hour or so is something to brag about.

When we got to our hostel, we primped.  Primping in the poorest country in South America after five days without the luxuries of running water and electricity is quite relative.  In lieu of painting nails, deciding on which pretty outfit to wear, and putting on makeup, primping becomes taking a shower that is heated by visible electric wires (I was shocked twice, but it was well worth it), cleaning deserts of sand out of our ears, and cutting fingernails that have collected some mysterious black crud that just won’t wash away. 

DAY 27

After a good night’s rest and a hearty breakfast, we headed out into the streets of La Paz.  Our hostel was located in Mercado Negro—the “Black Market” or “Witches Market”.  The neighborhood certainly lived up to its name. There were ladies in traditional pleated skirts and bowler hats lining the streets in all directions selling everything from bright Carnaval decorations to dried llama fetuses (which locals bury under their houses for good luck).  Within a few kilometers radius, there were different “departments”.  One quadrant of streets was dedicated to the sale of lighting and electric supplies, while another was dedicated solely to puffed corn and quinoa.  The most unappetizing of all departments had to be the streets filled with raw meat.  Llama, fish, beef, and pig parts were piled high, often only separated from the ground by a dirty blanket with flies and other insects digging their way into the animal flesh.

After getting lost in the maze of street vendors, we found “Artisan Alley”, a quieter, but more gringo-filled area full of jewelry, clothing, and crafts for sale.  After a little bargaining and shopping around, we were exhausted by the high elevation and steep streets.  We grabbed some street food and headed back to the hostel for some rest before heading back out for dinner.