I learned how to order fried chicken in Ollechea, so I took a day off to enjoy myself. Also my legs were tired after four days straight of nothing but uphill riding, and I knew the difficulty would only increase with altitudes beyond 2300 meters in Ollechea.
I really missed out on Ollechea cause of my laziness. A store keeper told me, "There´s a public bathroom down the road, you should check it out." Public bathrooms were the nastiest things in Peru, but really it was a hot springs. Yep, was too lazy to make it 1km and pay the 60 cents admission.
Then on the day I left, my 10 year old friend was really excited about a festival happening that night with fireworks and music and stuff. As I rode out of town I could hear a parade behind me that I was basically avoiding by accident.
I did two things right though, finished my book, so that was about 300 grams reduced from my pack. And also made some friends at the street vendor food stand.
They have these stands all over Peru, they´re tiny coal grills with skewers of flat meat, and then you get a baked potato on the tip. Optionally you can lather it with hot sauce. It costs just one Sol, 30 cents. I thought it was beef for hundreds of miles, and I kept getting weird looks when I asked for one as bistek. Finally in Ollechea I sat down at one that was loaded with just raw meat, so it was an excuse to mingle for a few minutes. Turns out its alpaca meat!
The girl running the stand had a pretty crazy situation, she was 12 years old, running that stand until late, she also ran the general store behind her, and went to school. I guess it´s not really like working though, her friends were all there. The whole town was on that street, along with a bunch of transients waiting for their buses to leave.
So after two nights I decided to head for Macusani. Everyone I talked to about Macusani said it was extremely cold, just like they said Puerto Maldonado was extremely hot. All over Peru people kept bragging about their Peruvian genetics, saying things like "I´m Peruvian, so my immune system is strong enough to withstand malaria" and "I´m Peruvian, so soroche doesn´t affect me." I started playing the game too saying I preferred the cold because I was from Chicago.
The other thing they kept saying was, "subido, subido!", or uphill. Man it was grueling, probably my magnus opus of cycling so far. I could see concrete barracades way up near a mountain peak, and yep, the road snaked around enough that I ended up there. I chewed enough coca leaves to make my mouth numb, but not numb enough for surgury. I think it really did help, it clears your headache and slows your heart. At sea level, or jungle level, it doesn´t do anything, coffee is much stronger.
To anyone trying the same trip, there is absolutely nothing between Ollechea and Macusani. No tiendas to restock or buy lunch from. There were seriously three huts, and one of them was part of Inca ruins. There is one town, but to get to it you have to go way into a valley and back up again.
Luckily there was a construction site near the peak, and the workers, as friendly as always, handed me a big sack of food! It was fully stocked, tea, soup, a pork chop, and rice. I would have never made it without that, at least I would have had to camp and eat my pasta.
Saw a massive condor near the peak too, check that one off the list.
I got really slow at the peak, was limping along and about to freecamp when someone told me I only had 5kms to go. They called my bluff on the cold, I showed up at the first tienda in town with numb hands and feet, speaking really poor Spanish. I was wearing shorts and sandals because even this day there was a stream crossing, the jungle wouldn´t quit!
The kid working the tienda was probably 7 years old. I bought my stack of candy and juice and was binging outside with obviously the whole family upstairs staring at me, and another kid a few doors down. I crossed the street for a more comfortable place to sit and saw the blinds quickly shut and the light turn off. Then they just stared from the other window, not fooling anyone.
I love how the Andean people won´t change their way of life no matter how rough the elements. Central heating and cooling just isn´t going to happen for the common Peruvian, so in the hostal they had the thickest alpaca blankets possible, two of them. It felt like the lead blanket they give you when getting X-rays at the dentist, and it worked. These people are like the eskimos of Peru.
It had to be in the 40s at night. Still, almost all the shops were open air. They´d have a rolltop entrance as wide and tall as the store. They even had people selling stuff outdoors in the square off bike carts. They told me it never ever snows. I can´t believe that, how could the conditions be any more suitable?
They really love Halloween here, all the women in Macusani dressed up early, they´re going as Rosanne dressed as a witch. It´s not that they´re really that huge, they´re just wearing 5 layers of traditional clothing.
I was really glad to get my cheese fix here, I hadn´t succeeded buying cheese since Maldonado. In Ollechea they did have it, when I asked they brought it out like a museum piece, all wrapped in an oily cloth. I didn´t want to buy the whole half kilo of cheese, so they yanked it back and hid it again.
I noticed a lot of people had pretty greasy hair, probably because showering here really sucks. I forgot to mention before, since Quince Mil there were intermittent water outages as well as power outages, and the water didn´t run the whole time I was here. Instead they had a 7 gallon bucket in my room, full to the brim. The power also went out in the morning, but I got used to that.
This was the highest city of my trip, 4300m, or 14,000ft! I thought La Paz was going to be the highest, but it´s only 10,000ft. As I write this, I´m still higher than that, Lake Titicaca is at 12,000ft. These people walked around like the altitude was nothing. They´d run down the street for blocks, and tons of people had bicycles. I bent over light headed after climbing two flights of stairs to my room.
I wish I would have stayed longer in Macusani, I´m sure there was a lot more to explore around there. The whole place is surrounded by herds of Alpacas, and they have a breeding program too. I´m sure I saw over 1000 heading down to Puno from Macusani.
The next day I started heading down to Lake Titicaca. I got a chance to redeem myself for taking a taxi earlier, the mountain pass after Macusani was 4800ft. There was a peak next to the pass that looked pretty easy to climb, so I put my bike down and went up there. What do you think I found at the top of the world? Two traditionally dressed women who saw me coming and avoided me. Also a circular stack of rocks. Peruvians really like to stack rocks, both for a purpose, and recreationally.
Not a whole lot to say about my trip down to Puno, I´ll keep it short. In one town everyone seemed afraid of me, but then a 7 year old girl half my size asked for a picture with me. Then four more people pulled out digital cameras and got a picture. I thought they were really poor but they surprised me.
San Anton was a tough town, I couldn´t stop anywhere without a curious crowd forming. I stopped to buy cheese and ended up with a semi-circle of traditionally dressed middle aged people, and pulled an old foreign language trick on them.
Rosanne Woman 1: Where´d you come from with this bike?
Me: Cusco, via Maldonado
Rosanne Woman 1: Where are you from?
Me: USA
Rosanne Woman 1: (Huge grin, complete Quecha gibberish, 0% comprehension)
Me: No, I don´t have a wife
Rosanne Woman 2: He understood!!
I figure with foreign languages you should guess at what your opponent´s questions and answers are going to be in advance of them speaking, and in the beginning, listen for those one or two words that indicate which direction they went. If you end up with no words to work with, there´s no reason you can´t keep a straight face and just completely bullshit.
Besides, they keep following the same pattern. Truck drivers and construction workers have been the easiest, they ask the same questions in almost the same order every time. Children are the hardest, way too fast, curious and tangential! But they push me to learn the most.
Lunch in San Anton had a bunch of strange things that now seem normal. The price was $1, there was a motorcycle parked next to my table indoors, and the meat was spicy Alpaca.
One last thing, in Juliaca I saw the motherlode of coca leaves today. This stand in the market had three bales about half the size of a hay bale. I asked how much, and the old woman held up five fingers. No idea what that means.
That´s all I can think of for now. Tomorrow I´m going to see about a boat to Bolivia, and the dreaded Bolivian visa that costs $135. I´m also going to take the bus back to Juliaca because that town is awesome compared to Puno.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Credits
Before I return to ordinary life and this blog becomes completely uninteresting, I think I should slip in some credits. You don´t just buy a ticket to Peru and pack a box full of bike parts and camping equipment, tons of people have helped me along.
First of all, thanks to my friend Kole, for describing Peru as such an interesting place, but not too much, so I´d have some left to discover myself. Kole´s schtick is pretty great too, he´s fed me two pretty hilarious and borderline dangerous lies mixed in with 300-400 legit facts about Peru and the Spanish language. But he was nice enough to come clean before the trip.
Thanks to my friend Scott, a much more hardcore traveler than myself. Can´t believe what he pulled living in and traveling across China. PRC can´t touch his way of life.
Thanks to Ariel, a former Chicagoan who´s on a bicycle tour of over a year and counting. She just did a similar stretch in Peru, so there was no better person to give advice. Good luck cycling Brazil! Blog here.
Thanks to Justin and Aaron from college, for traveling along the first week. Really helped with the culture shock and scams, and had tons of fun. Lima, and costal Peru had the toughest people in my opinion. I can´t believe Aaron made Peru his first foreign country experience, way to skip right to hard mode.
Thanks to Wheellife for keeping bicycle touring hilarious. Ugh, wish their website was still up. They had a pet goldfish in a water bottle all the way from London to Turkey. Then a badly behaved pet monkey in a cage for 10km in Pakistan. You might get the idea from this.
Thanks most of all to the people of Peru for putting up with me. I talk a lot of shit, but I´m the most naive person here. They´re so friendly, I never felt like I was traveling alone.
Thanks to Alex Wilson and West Town Bikes of Chicago, for teaching me all the good practices of bicycle mechanics. It was all hackjobs for me before that.
Thanks to Working Bikes of Chicago for teaching me even more bike mechanics. I used one of Jonathan´s tricks daily in the jungle.
Thanks to Orbitz for actually paying for part of my ticket as an employee perk, and possibly even taking me back as an employee after 7 weeks of vagabonding.
Thanks to South American Explorers for their advice, storage, and a safe place in Cusco to put my bike together.
First of all, thanks to my friend Kole, for describing Peru as such an interesting place, but not too much, so I´d have some left to discover myself. Kole´s schtick is pretty great too, he´s fed me two pretty hilarious and borderline dangerous lies mixed in with 300-400 legit facts about Peru and the Spanish language. But he was nice enough to come clean before the trip.
Thanks to my friend Scott, a much more hardcore traveler than myself. Can´t believe what he pulled living in and traveling across China. PRC can´t touch his way of life.
Thanks to Ariel, a former Chicagoan who´s on a bicycle tour of over a year and counting. She just did a similar stretch in Peru, so there was no better person to give advice. Good luck cycling Brazil! Blog here.
Thanks to Justin and Aaron from college, for traveling along the first week. Really helped with the culture shock and scams, and had tons of fun. Lima, and costal Peru had the toughest people in my opinion. I can´t believe Aaron made Peru his first foreign country experience, way to skip right to hard mode.
Thanks to Wheellife for keeping bicycle touring hilarious. Ugh, wish their website was still up. They had a pet goldfish in a water bottle all the way from London to Turkey. Then a badly behaved pet monkey in a cage for 10km in Pakistan. You might get the idea from this.
Thanks most of all to the people of Peru for putting up with me. I talk a lot of shit, but I´m the most naive person here. They´re so friendly, I never felt like I was traveling alone.
Thanks to Alex Wilson and West Town Bikes of Chicago, for teaching me all the good practices of bicycle mechanics. It was all hackjobs for me before that.
Thanks to Working Bikes of Chicago for teaching me even more bike mechanics. I used one of Jonathan´s tricks daily in the jungle.
Thanks to Orbitz for actually paying for part of my ticket as an employee perk, and possibly even taking me back as an employee after 7 weeks of vagabonding.
Thanks to South American Explorers for their advice, storage, and a safe place in Cusco to put my bike together.
Monday, October 19, 2009
Up outta the moisture
I´m back at the fringe of the mountains now, a town called Ollechea that shows up twice on google maps, didn´t notice the first one in real life. My paper map situation is really rough now, tons of helpful pueblitos are missing, so nurishment is a surprise unless I carry it.
I have to come clean, I took a station wagon the last 100km to Maldonado too. All these major roads have an armada of station wagons, vans and whatever they can come up with, shuttling between towns for whoever hails them. The price was right, it was really hot, and I didn´t know of any place to stay in that stretch. Looking back, I should have stayed at the motorcycle freetown. If they make a Mad Max four that takes place in Peru, that´s the location!
My driver honked at anyone outside their house anywhere on the way, and it worked, we rolled into town fully packed. First it was two sacks of rice and an old woman to collect the money in town. Then some other general randos. I had no idea what I was doing in Maldonado, so I just got out in the shared car district, which was a ditch with a few cars parked on both sides and the drivers all chatting. It worked out really well, the crowd that formed in minutes directed me to a really great hospedaje, Español.
Anything with wheels does a lot of work down there. I saw a huge flatbed truck unloaded except for a bunch of bags of rice thrown on the back. Drivers don´t waste any opportunity.
Oh yeah, definitely don´t go to the amazon if you´re not ok with bugs. The mosquitos were not as bad as Wisconsin, but maybe they weren´t in season. In the market in Maldonado I felt something on the back of my neck, grabbed for it, realized it was the size of my palm and felt it grab back in a sticky wormy insect way. I cracked my arm like a whip and never managed to see it. It was probably just a huge moth. The kittens in that town had no fear of them, I saw one carrying a moth the size of it´s face around in it´s mouth.
And I took the bus back out of the jungle, forgive me. For 15 soles they brought me 150kms back to Loromayo, the town with the world´s most adorable racism, and the start of the road to Puno. For 10 soles I stayed in the same place as before, it did not come with light this time either.
I´m sorry to keep coming back to the toilet humor, but this place really has quite the situation. Imagine the staircase in your house is concrete, outdoors and open to a huge variety of insects. And then there´s a toilet just right there in the open, no curtain or anything, and obviously no seat. My headlamp has been really useful, (thanks for the Christmas present mom and dad!) but in the jungle it was kind of funny, attracting all sorts of insects to my face and corners of my mouth, especially right here.
The first minutes on the road to Puno were very promising, but hit a low later. I left to a parade of Peruvian children chanting, ¨Gringo!¨ the same ones from before. Couldn´t have been happier. I regret not getting a video of that. Then the typical territorial dogs chased me for a minute, and I love playing with them, I bark back at them, slam on the brakes to call their bluff, bike in circles, bike right at them standing their ground, and whistle like I want them to follow me. No shortage of immaturity on my part.
Then like 20 minutes into the road this guy passes me on a motorcycle and turns around to talk to me. He says, ¨There are robbers up there! Don´t go there!¨ and makes a pistol with his hand. I asked, where, in 100kms, in the woods or the next town or what? And then, SHIT! Necessito el baño! Ahorrita! My dysentary got bad again, probably cause I drank sweet tea in the jungle made out of river tap water. I ran off into the woods for a bit, came back. That pretty much ended the conversation, and I kept on.
After that it was mostly just gnarly uphill work, but it was my favorite scenic parts of Peru, the cloud forest phenomenon, in reverse and really slow. I got ripped off in the first town, 15 soles now for a Hospedaje ($5), but this one had light and a better outdoor bathroom. There was also absolutely incredible torrential rain while I was here, which makes tons of noise on that corrugated roof, and lightening really close over and over. Would have been a miserable night in a tent.
The next morning was way cooler than usual, so I got on the road early. I think all the flowing water downhill must carry the heat away, which is what makes the amazon basin so hot, and the mountains cool. That´s the pseudoscience that works in my head anyways.
Right away I came to a huge stream crossing. They were adding more rocks to it so the trucks could pass. They told me to wait an hour, have breakfast and relax. The most talkative guy at the tienda turned out to be a gold prospector with some crazy eyes. He said Peru is rich in metals, but nobody cares about anything but the gold! They get 70% of what flows down the river, but their process isn´t advanced enough to get that last 30%. Also, there are massive nuggets in the ground, but to find them is just guessing with a shovel. But in the United States there are detectors that can find the gold! Just then the construction worker standing by got the crazy eyes too, and they all got my contact information so I can buy a detector for them and bring it next year and hunt gold with them when I visit. Heh, probably not going to happen.
With all the rain there was tons of mud and tons of WIDE stream crossings. I got really good at them, didn´t usually have to put a foot down.
One of the stream crossings was a great swimming spot. Deep enough that kids were diving and doing flips and stuff. Spent some good time there, futily washing my bike for the upcoming mud and stuff. A bus full of construction workers rolled by, and one of them said, ¨El gringo, tambien!¨
Next night, I stayed in my tent in a construction site that had a roof, couldn´t find a town. Left really early so I´d be out of there before the workers showed. I still got to talk to the Seguridad folks rolling by, but they were fine with squatting.
Following afternoon I went through my favorite part of Peru, the highest reaches of amazon clouds. I ate an entire pinapple for lunch, kind of like a vegetarian lobster meal. Price tag was 75 cents, but I got ripped off, the next people paid 50 cents, haha.
I got caught in pretty hard rain, ended up seeking shelter in a cave, and then a pueblito´s school construction site. The worker showed up right away and said I could camp there. Then he and 4 of his 7 kids watched me try to light my stove and it ran out of fuel, so I got a dinner invite! They had basically fry bread, as the Native Americans have in the states, and then some really syrupy thick red tea, both were awesome!
They gave me the best seat in the house, on a firm matress next to a TV showing Planet Earth in Spanish. I thought that was funny, coming inside from some of my favorite scenery on Earth to watch a movie about Africa. They were living in the old school, as far as I could tell. Just over the top nice, I leaned back and they gave me a bag of clothes for a back rest. They fed me first, and the largest portion size.
They surprised me with breakfast too, in my tent. I traded them some bananas I was carrying, but it wasn´t enough.
Since then I´ve accended about 1500 meters over 20km on the map, and it´s very noticably drier, all in one day. The bugs are much less, and I can barely whistle now. The mountains are obviously different too, banana trees can´t survive here, but they were plentiful yesterday.
Sitting in this Internet cafe I was hounded by the kids. Had an audience of about 7 at one point, now just one standing there quietly. They taught me a little Spanish, and I taught them that Los Angeles is really far from Chicago, and about Shaquille O´Neil.
I think I got about 18 days left, which should be enough time to make it to La Paz. Next stop, higher hills.
I have to come clean, I took a station wagon the last 100km to Maldonado too. All these major roads have an armada of station wagons, vans and whatever they can come up with, shuttling between towns for whoever hails them. The price was right, it was really hot, and I didn´t know of any place to stay in that stretch. Looking back, I should have stayed at the motorcycle freetown. If they make a Mad Max four that takes place in Peru, that´s the location!
My driver honked at anyone outside their house anywhere on the way, and it worked, we rolled into town fully packed. First it was two sacks of rice and an old woman to collect the money in town. Then some other general randos. I had no idea what I was doing in Maldonado, so I just got out in the shared car district, which was a ditch with a few cars parked on both sides and the drivers all chatting. It worked out really well, the crowd that formed in minutes directed me to a really great hospedaje, Español.
Anything with wheels does a lot of work down there. I saw a huge flatbed truck unloaded except for a bunch of bags of rice thrown on the back. Drivers don´t waste any opportunity.
Oh yeah, definitely don´t go to the amazon if you´re not ok with bugs. The mosquitos were not as bad as Wisconsin, but maybe they weren´t in season. In the market in Maldonado I felt something on the back of my neck, grabbed for it, realized it was the size of my palm and felt it grab back in a sticky wormy insect way. I cracked my arm like a whip and never managed to see it. It was probably just a huge moth. The kittens in that town had no fear of them, I saw one carrying a moth the size of it´s face around in it´s mouth.
And I took the bus back out of the jungle, forgive me. For 15 soles they brought me 150kms back to Loromayo, the town with the world´s most adorable racism, and the start of the road to Puno. For 10 soles I stayed in the same place as before, it did not come with light this time either.
I´m sorry to keep coming back to the toilet humor, but this place really has quite the situation. Imagine the staircase in your house is concrete, outdoors and open to a huge variety of insects. And then there´s a toilet just right there in the open, no curtain or anything, and obviously no seat. My headlamp has been really useful, (thanks for the Christmas present mom and dad!) but in the jungle it was kind of funny, attracting all sorts of insects to my face and corners of my mouth, especially right here.
The first minutes on the road to Puno were very promising, but hit a low later. I left to a parade of Peruvian children chanting, ¨Gringo!¨ the same ones from before. Couldn´t have been happier. I regret not getting a video of that. Then the typical territorial dogs chased me for a minute, and I love playing with them, I bark back at them, slam on the brakes to call their bluff, bike in circles, bike right at them standing their ground, and whistle like I want them to follow me. No shortage of immaturity on my part.
Then like 20 minutes into the road this guy passes me on a motorcycle and turns around to talk to me. He says, ¨There are robbers up there! Don´t go there!¨ and makes a pistol with his hand. I asked, where, in 100kms, in the woods or the next town or what? And then, SHIT! Necessito el baño! Ahorrita! My dysentary got bad again, probably cause I drank sweet tea in the jungle made out of river tap water. I ran off into the woods for a bit, came back. That pretty much ended the conversation, and I kept on.
After that it was mostly just gnarly uphill work, but it was my favorite scenic parts of Peru, the cloud forest phenomenon, in reverse and really slow. I got ripped off in the first town, 15 soles now for a Hospedaje ($5), but this one had light and a better outdoor bathroom. There was also absolutely incredible torrential rain while I was here, which makes tons of noise on that corrugated roof, and lightening really close over and over. Would have been a miserable night in a tent.
The next morning was way cooler than usual, so I got on the road early. I think all the flowing water downhill must carry the heat away, which is what makes the amazon basin so hot, and the mountains cool. That´s the pseudoscience that works in my head anyways.
Right away I came to a huge stream crossing. They were adding more rocks to it so the trucks could pass. They told me to wait an hour, have breakfast and relax. The most talkative guy at the tienda turned out to be a gold prospector with some crazy eyes. He said Peru is rich in metals, but nobody cares about anything but the gold! They get 70% of what flows down the river, but their process isn´t advanced enough to get that last 30%. Also, there are massive nuggets in the ground, but to find them is just guessing with a shovel. But in the United States there are detectors that can find the gold! Just then the construction worker standing by got the crazy eyes too, and they all got my contact information so I can buy a detector for them and bring it next year and hunt gold with them when I visit. Heh, probably not going to happen.
With all the rain there was tons of mud and tons of WIDE stream crossings. I got really good at them, didn´t usually have to put a foot down.
One of the stream crossings was a great swimming spot. Deep enough that kids were diving and doing flips and stuff. Spent some good time there, futily washing my bike for the upcoming mud and stuff. A bus full of construction workers rolled by, and one of them said, ¨El gringo, tambien!¨
Next night, I stayed in my tent in a construction site that had a roof, couldn´t find a town. Left really early so I´d be out of there before the workers showed. I still got to talk to the Seguridad folks rolling by, but they were fine with squatting.
Following afternoon I went through my favorite part of Peru, the highest reaches of amazon clouds. I ate an entire pinapple for lunch, kind of like a vegetarian lobster meal. Price tag was 75 cents, but I got ripped off, the next people paid 50 cents, haha.
I got caught in pretty hard rain, ended up seeking shelter in a cave, and then a pueblito´s school construction site. The worker showed up right away and said I could camp there. Then he and 4 of his 7 kids watched me try to light my stove and it ran out of fuel, so I got a dinner invite! They had basically fry bread, as the Native Americans have in the states, and then some really syrupy thick red tea, both were awesome!
They gave me the best seat in the house, on a firm matress next to a TV showing Planet Earth in Spanish. I thought that was funny, coming inside from some of my favorite scenery on Earth to watch a movie about Africa. They were living in the old school, as far as I could tell. Just over the top nice, I leaned back and they gave me a bag of clothes for a back rest. They fed me first, and the largest portion size.
They surprised me with breakfast too, in my tent. I traded them some bananas I was carrying, but it wasn´t enough.
Since then I´ve accended about 1500 meters over 20km on the map, and it´s very noticably drier, all in one day. The bugs are much less, and I can barely whistle now. The mountains are obviously different too, banana trees can´t survive here, but they were plentiful yesterday.
Sitting in this Internet cafe I was hounded by the kids. Had an audience of about 7 at one point, now just one standing there quietly. They taught me a little Spanish, and I taught them that Los Angeles is really far from Chicago, and about Shaquille O´Neil.
I think I got about 18 days left, which should be enough time to make it to La Paz. Next stop, higher hills.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
No Luz!
I´m in Puerto Maldonado now after a trip down from the mountains into the amazon basin. On the first day on the way down there was an armed guard again who wouldn´t let me pass until 6am the next morning, so I camped in that truck parking lot. I woke up with my tent completely soaked because the mountains there are pretty much in the clouds from the amazon, or fog even.
I´ve been fighting for water the whole time, now in one day I´m fighting against it. In the mountains it was so nice, I´d drain 1/4 liter of water out of my body into my tent each night, open it up to the sun and it´d dry within 20 minutes. In the jungle, my wet tent and wet shoes stayed wet until the end, Puerto Maldonado. And I was still fighting for water, sweating like crazy for the three hottest hours of each day.
Once 6am rolled around I set out for the muddiest day of cycling. I didn´t bring fenders, so it just caked everywhere, and there were tons of stream crossings. I only fully dumped my bike once though, and jumped off of it in ankle deep mud.
The scenery was the best out of the whole trip, reminded me of Jurrasic Park more than anything but no dinos. Huge leaves on everything! Clay houses quickly transitioned to wood and sheet medal shacks since I´m sure the water would break down those mountain top houses within months. The people were still very Andean though, I should have taken a picture of the Andean guy with a knit hat standing on the porch of his jungle shack. People spoke Quechuan deep into the jungle, all the way to Quince Mil at least. Probably some great slang.
Construction really picked up here. At first it was just people painting things, the finishing touches. Over the course of the trip it was everything you could think of. At one point they told me to stand back and wait for an hour, and some more stuff I didn´t understand. Shortly after dynamite went off nearby, and I could feel it in my feet. The wait turned out to be 5 minutes.
I absolutely love the Peruvian attitude towards cleaning. It´s so futile, but they do it with pride. At one point in the road there was a truck driver pulled over on the most muddy road possible. It was at least 20 miles of muddy roads behind him and in front of him, and again, also exactly where he was parked. He was sitting there with a rag and a bucket, restoring the facia of that truck to showroom quality, nothing but shiny chrome. Definitely not half assed like I would have done it, I´m talking every surface of that facia was free of dirt.
In lots of towns, the kids and adults alike enjoy shouting out ¨Gringo!¨ at me. I started shouting back ¨Peruano!¨ with equal enthusiasm.
In Quince Mil I arrived in heavy rain and couldn´t figure out how to get into this hostal. Some kid, Cesar, saw me and offered a free place on his floor to sleep. He was from Lima, vacationing with family in the ´Mil for a few weeks. Turned out to be quite rough living in this town. The people across the street had a kid who liked to walk around fully naked all the time, and his shoulder down to his arm had been burned when their previous house burned down. My new friend Cesar told me he was crazy, but he wasn´t the only fully naked person I saw in the jungle. Just like in National Geographic.
Cesar´s cousin was a sad story. She was 16, fully deaf, not going to school as far as I could tell, and....pregnant! The only word she knew was mama, and she used this word all day, even when mama was 30 miles away wearing a blaze orange suit swinging a machete in the woods to build the pan oceanic highway. Teenage pregnancies are common in the jungle I was told.
The house he was staying at in Quince Mil was really comfortable. The kitchen was a shack in the backyard, along with another one for the bathroom and shower. Tropical Peru has ended the male vs female debate on toilet seats, up or down. I´ve seen just two toilets with a seat in the 500km since Cusco, and there wasn´t one here. They must be a crass sign of wealth or something.
They had tons of clotheslines, and the clothes would stay on those lines for multiple days, but then it rained every day, so you had to be lucky to avoid that. Under the clothelines were very well organized rock garderns, probably so the ground wasn´t always mud underneath.
One thing I didn´t expect about the jungle was to experience rolling blackouts, something that´s always been on my list. I was going to play pool with this guy on the one pool table in town, but when we got to the bar there was no luz! Then we were going to use the internet, but again, no luz! Candles started selling like crazy and every store and diner was suddenly really romantic on the walk home. It happened here in Puerto Maldonado last night too, and I was lucky enough to get a video of the lights coming back on at one of the main promonades.
The night I stayed in Quince Mil there I took Cesar and his aunt out for a night on the town! Dinner cost around $5.50 for the three of us, and drinks were $7. We went to the chicken restaurant that did have light somehow.
Honestly after Quince Mil I thought the scenery would continue to get exponentially cooler, but now I´d say my favorite part was Tinke to Quince Mil. The jungle proper has been cool, but not as mind blowing. Maybe I´m not going to the right places.
After Quince Mil I went to the town right before Loromayo, forgot the name. It was just getting fully dark when I got there, I was out of energy. I got the most Gringo! cheers here than anywhere, and ended up with a parade of about 20 young children within minutes of arriving. I taught them the high five, couldn´t think of much else. They followed me as I almost fell over and made a very confused trek door to door looking for a hostal, then luckily it was over. This town was very friendly, though very very poor. I have to backtrack to there today.
Hmm, I should really get on the road. Let me just say Mazuko was a great town, good food, and the first place motorcycle taxis started appearing. In fact it was 1/2 motorcycles here probably, all the locals. One of the toilet seats was here. I tried to buy malaria medication here and the pharmacy said go to the hospital, the hospital said go to the pharmacy. Haven´t had any luck since then either.
Between Mazuko and Puerto Maldonado was this city that wasn´t a city. It was some sort of freetown for motorcycle taxis. It was all grass huts or huts made out of tarps and it went on for quite a while. Tons of motorcycle repair places, and one truck engine repair too. I saw quite the motorcycle heroics here, they were trying to put beer crates on the back of one, two deep x two or three wide x three high, four 32oz per crate. Maybe more, I can´t really remember.
Puerto Maldonado has the best food of the trip! I´ve been stuffing myself every day with baked goods and dinners for $3.30. I was way down on weight when I arrived, made some progress back to my (north) American TV dinner heritage.
I took a river boat ride yesterday, but did it wrong, it wasn´t the best. I´m sad to see they´re building a bridge over the river to Bolivia and Brazil. The way they do it now is with family owned ferries, and it´s awesome. They´re all the same design, built of wood with a little metal for the keel. They carry one car/truck/van each, plus pedestrians and a moto. It´s tons of work, they have to dangerously back the car up two planks at a 30 degree angle, then the boat is grounded on the concrete and they have boards to pry it loose over a few minutes. After that, the 2-stroke motorcycle engine drives a shaft that´s 5ft long and powers a tiny propeller. There´s no reverse, but they have a trick, they point the shaft over the deck towards the shore.
Ok, gotta go now. Heading to Loromayo and down south into the mountains up to Titicaca.
I´ve been fighting for water the whole time, now in one day I´m fighting against it. In the mountains it was so nice, I´d drain 1/4 liter of water out of my body into my tent each night, open it up to the sun and it´d dry within 20 minutes. In the jungle, my wet tent and wet shoes stayed wet until the end, Puerto Maldonado. And I was still fighting for water, sweating like crazy for the three hottest hours of each day.
Once 6am rolled around I set out for the muddiest day of cycling. I didn´t bring fenders, so it just caked everywhere, and there were tons of stream crossings. I only fully dumped my bike once though, and jumped off of it in ankle deep mud.
The scenery was the best out of the whole trip, reminded me of Jurrasic Park more than anything but no dinos. Huge leaves on everything! Clay houses quickly transitioned to wood and sheet medal shacks since I´m sure the water would break down those mountain top houses within months. The people were still very Andean though, I should have taken a picture of the Andean guy with a knit hat standing on the porch of his jungle shack. People spoke Quechuan deep into the jungle, all the way to Quince Mil at least. Probably some great slang.
Construction really picked up here. At first it was just people painting things, the finishing touches. Over the course of the trip it was everything you could think of. At one point they told me to stand back and wait for an hour, and some more stuff I didn´t understand. Shortly after dynamite went off nearby, and I could feel it in my feet. The wait turned out to be 5 minutes.
I absolutely love the Peruvian attitude towards cleaning. It´s so futile, but they do it with pride. At one point in the road there was a truck driver pulled over on the most muddy road possible. It was at least 20 miles of muddy roads behind him and in front of him, and again, also exactly where he was parked. He was sitting there with a rag and a bucket, restoring the facia of that truck to showroom quality, nothing but shiny chrome. Definitely not half assed like I would have done it, I´m talking every surface of that facia was free of dirt.
In lots of towns, the kids and adults alike enjoy shouting out ¨Gringo!¨ at me. I started shouting back ¨Peruano!¨ with equal enthusiasm.
In Quince Mil I arrived in heavy rain and couldn´t figure out how to get into this hostal. Some kid, Cesar, saw me and offered a free place on his floor to sleep. He was from Lima, vacationing with family in the ´Mil for a few weeks. Turned out to be quite rough living in this town. The people across the street had a kid who liked to walk around fully naked all the time, and his shoulder down to his arm had been burned when their previous house burned down. My new friend Cesar told me he was crazy, but he wasn´t the only fully naked person I saw in the jungle. Just like in National Geographic.
Cesar´s cousin was a sad story. She was 16, fully deaf, not going to school as far as I could tell, and....pregnant! The only word she knew was mama, and she used this word all day, even when mama was 30 miles away wearing a blaze orange suit swinging a machete in the woods to build the pan oceanic highway. Teenage pregnancies are common in the jungle I was told.
The house he was staying at in Quince Mil was really comfortable. The kitchen was a shack in the backyard, along with another one for the bathroom and shower. Tropical Peru has ended the male vs female debate on toilet seats, up or down. I´ve seen just two toilets with a seat in the 500km since Cusco, and there wasn´t one here. They must be a crass sign of wealth or something.
They had tons of clotheslines, and the clothes would stay on those lines for multiple days, but then it rained every day, so you had to be lucky to avoid that. Under the clothelines were very well organized rock garderns, probably so the ground wasn´t always mud underneath.
One thing I didn´t expect about the jungle was to experience rolling blackouts, something that´s always been on my list. I was going to play pool with this guy on the one pool table in town, but when we got to the bar there was no luz! Then we were going to use the internet, but again, no luz! Candles started selling like crazy and every store and diner was suddenly really romantic on the walk home. It happened here in Puerto Maldonado last night too, and I was lucky enough to get a video of the lights coming back on at one of the main promonades.
The night I stayed in Quince Mil there I took Cesar and his aunt out for a night on the town! Dinner cost around $5.50 for the three of us, and drinks were $7. We went to the chicken restaurant that did have light somehow.
Honestly after Quince Mil I thought the scenery would continue to get exponentially cooler, but now I´d say my favorite part was Tinke to Quince Mil. The jungle proper has been cool, but not as mind blowing. Maybe I´m not going to the right places.
After Quince Mil I went to the town right before Loromayo, forgot the name. It was just getting fully dark when I got there, I was out of energy. I got the most Gringo! cheers here than anywhere, and ended up with a parade of about 20 young children within minutes of arriving. I taught them the high five, couldn´t think of much else. They followed me as I almost fell over and made a very confused trek door to door looking for a hostal, then luckily it was over. This town was very friendly, though very very poor. I have to backtrack to there today.
Hmm, I should really get on the road. Let me just say Mazuko was a great town, good food, and the first place motorcycle taxis started appearing. In fact it was 1/2 motorcycles here probably, all the locals. One of the toilet seats was here. I tried to buy malaria medication here and the pharmacy said go to the hospital, the hospital said go to the pharmacy. Haven´t had any luck since then either.
Between Mazuko and Puerto Maldonado was this city that wasn´t a city. It was some sort of freetown for motorcycle taxis. It was all grass huts or huts made out of tarps and it went on for quite a while. Tons of motorcycle repair places, and one truck engine repair too. I saw quite the motorcycle heroics here, they were trying to put beer crates on the back of one, two deep x two or three wide x three high, four 32oz per crate. Maybe more, I can´t really remember.
Puerto Maldonado has the best food of the trip! I´ve been stuffing myself every day with baked goods and dinners for $3.30. I was way down on weight when I arrived, made some progress back to my (north) American TV dinner heritage.
I took a river boat ride yesterday, but did it wrong, it wasn´t the best. I´m sad to see they´re building a bridge over the river to Bolivia and Brazil. The way they do it now is with family owned ferries, and it´s awesome. They´re all the same design, built of wood with a little metal for the keel. They carry one car/truck/van each, plus pedestrians and a moto. It´s tons of work, they have to dangerously back the car up two planks at a 30 degree angle, then the boat is grounded on the concrete and they have boards to pry it loose over a few minutes. After that, the 2-stroke motorcycle engine drives a shaft that´s 5ft long and powers a tiny propeller. There´s no reverse, but they have a trick, they point the shaft over the deck towards the shore.
Ok, gotta go now. Heading to Loromayo and down south into the mountains up to Titicaca.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
The Mountain People
I finally left Cusco on a Monday, after getting some work done on my bike, rear cone adjustment and overhaul if you really must know. That guy cleaned up my cassette so well I almost payed for it as a new one. I can´t recommend the bike shop across from Hostel Estrellita enough. I think it´s called Planet Bike on Tullumayo and Santo Domingo.
I don´t like spending too much time reading maps, so both times I left Cusco I used just a compass to find my way out. Luckily it worked 2 out of 2 times, though I didn´t know if I was going the right way for over an hour. My mission for the first day was to make it just 30km to Urcos.
On the way to Urcos I found some pretty awesome ruins, Rumicolca, just next to the highway. It was an Incan wall with a great view of the mountains behind it. They had some rocks sticking out of the wall that formed stairs, and nobody was around so I climbed to the top. Up there I saw what turned out to be Peru´s friendliest archeologist approaching me. I was not allowed to be up there, but I had to ask him that. We went through the usual friendly introductions, what´s your name, how old are you, etc. Eventually he tells me to ¨[verb] your things.¨ And we got stuck on that for a while, I told him I don´t know what [verb] means, and eventually I left. Turns out he was telling me to get my shit off the ruins(!), but in an entirely too nice way.
The main square at Urcos cracked me up. They had a Iwo Jima style statue of old school Incas putting in place the gay pride flag. I think rainbow flags must have some other meaning here.
Urcos was way too easy, it was all downhill, so I decided to try for the first mountain pass that afternoon. After some grueling uphill riding I was seeing stars and had to sit down for a while. I decided I´d find the next tiny town and free camp there, since I was almost out of water.
Free camping in Peru is kind of spooky, but I got used to it. As long as you don´t mind invading some street dog´s territory, you´ll be alright. Within the first hour a dog will be barking at you from the woods, and all night long you´ll hear dogs howling. Otherwise it´s the same as anywhere.
The next morning I went into the town, and talked to some of the most naive people I´ve ever met. I´d give them a 5 out of 100 for knowledge of their own backyard. I didn´t ask, but I bet they knew their own names, so that´s 2 points. They knew their own town of 100 people had a store, so that´s about 3 points. They had no idea where the next town was though, or at least I couldn´t get it out of them. Turns out it was maybe 20km away in the next valley, but over some rough uphill terrain. I also asked if there were llamas up that way, and they said no. Three hours later I was photographing a pack of wild llamas near the summit.
I wish the llamas would have been around earlier, I really could have used their help carrying my gear uphill. At first they let me get within 5ft for photos, but once they figured out I was trying to catch them they started running more. I really didn´t have the strength to pounce at 4050m elevation. With a lasso it would have been a done deal though, next time!
The next town was Ccamarcca. I was an alien to those people, got some strange looks. Food was extremely cheap though, six banannas and four pieces of bread for 60 cents.
Down the road a few kilometers, basically connected, was the friendliest town of the Andes, and I don´t know the name of it. I showed up right when school was out, and that´s something that´s hard for me. High school girls here really have a thing for me. Really Peru, that´s such a cruel trick, that´s the wrong demographic!! I am not into that, I could have very well booked a trip to Thailand but I didn´t, this is Peru. My visa says on it you have 90 beautiful days in our country to stay away from underage girls, or you´re going to jail.
So I´m rolling through this town at 3900m elevation and I´m pretty much 1950s Elvis Presley. Packs of girls are staring and giggling absolutely psychotically. One girl threw some sort of traditionally colored cloth at me, but she missed and it flew behind my back. I assume that´s culturally the same as bras on stage at a Who concert. It wasn´t just the girls either, soccer games were interrupted another minute down the road for way too enthusiastic waving and whistling. And then the road turned uphill just as I came upon some really young kids. I ran out of steam and was talking to them breathing heavy over my handlebars. Their curiosity burned up my vocab in minutes. I was the first gringo they´d ever seen, so if you go to this town you can be the second.
About 1km later I found a nice place to camp. I heard some sort of hoofed animal in the night walking around, never found out what it was. The owner of the nearby shop was an extremely friendly guy I had met on the road the night before. He gave me 30 cents off my purchase and free candy.
My tent was apparently set up on some Quechua path into town because at 6am my neighbor, an ancient man, stopped by to say hello. I opened the door and let him see La Casa del Gringo, and I think he offered me breakfast but I was still fearful of local cooking, so he said ciao.
I had visitors about every hour until I left. The second set was a weathered woman with a baby in a colorful sheet on her back. She wouldn´t let me photograph her, but it would have been so perfect with the mountains and all. Had to be there. There was a second lady too, and they were obviously talking about me in Quechua, but Spanish would have gone right over my head too.
Then there was this weathered man who came by twice. His teeth were as black as lead .22 rounds, and the brass casings must have been below the gumline. There was no bling to his smile, no whiteness at all. It must not have been painful, he couldn´t have been happier or more friendly. He tried to sell me a scarf and some things out of a plastic shopping bag, but I already have too much gear so I had to pass.
My campsite was on a small hill in a valley surrounded by mountain houses on the inclines. There was nowhere to hid using the bathroom, so plenty of people had a chance to see my bare gringo ass.
Eventually I grudgingly set out for the kilometers I had to make that day. It was a second mountain pass, not as high as the first, but I was worn out and the shops didn´t have much appealing food. My spaghetti turned out really bad the night before when I ran out of water, but a one eyed dog with ESP was right there when I threw it out, licked it all clean off the ground.
Heading up the next pass, a van full of construction workers slowed down for me. The same ones who made fun of me the evening before for my slow progress. They let me skitch off their van for 2km and wore my arm right out. It almost got me over the top though. Felt like cheating, but why not take a free ride paid for by the state of Peru?
The next town, Ocongate, wasn´t nearly as friendly as the last. The children just stared while I ate my Bolivian candy and whispered to each other. I figured out how to buy coca leaves here. It´s not at all stores, so you have to ask around. It´s under the counter so you have to ask the lady or 7 year old working there, and you get about a half ounce for 30 cents. And it´s so addicting, now that I´m down from altitude it´s been completely neglected in my bag for days. Tastes like grass, as in your lawn.
I had a pretty good campsite here, great view of a snowy peak and next to a wide stream. Before I fell asleep there were flashlights on my tent and footsteps. I gave and ¨Hola¨ and I got back, ¨Hola, policia! You speak eh-spanish?¨ My conversation with them went perfectly, one of the few. They said the people of the town didn´t like me there, I never figured out if it was one person or all of them. Luckily they were ok with one night, so they left. The next morning I found some pisspoor ruins within a few hundred feet, maybe. It could have been a foundation of a house from 100 years ago, I don´t know.
I made the worst meal of my trip here, couldn´t find tomate sauce all day, so I got what turned out to be anchovies in watery tomato sauce. So nasty! I put my flashlight on it for a second and saw nothing but gray matter and noodles, but I still ate it until it got cold, reheated it twice and eventually gave up on the last bit.
Next morning I made it up to Tinke, the town right next to Ausangate, a 6000m snowy peak. Snow´s a rarity here. I stopped in for supplies and talked to a quechua woman for a while. I thought she was 50 or 60 but she said she was 30. Not really a sexy place here, but very badass people. Her friend was a guide who brought gringos to the summit of Ausangate. It´s a 2 day trip and costs 1000 soles, so this guy must be the richest in town. He had a modern backpack and parka, but then his shoes were just leather planks with basically belts and almost black toes. He hikes up through the snow with those!
My best moment in this town was asking for the trash. She told me a trash person would probably stop by. This one gnarly looking woman came by in minutes with a wheel barrow loaded with odds and ends. I almost ALMOST asked if she was the trash woman. Turns out her wheel barrow was loaded with huuuge pots of food and covered with nasty sheets for insulation. And her food was awesome after that meal of anchovies. 180 degrees, from trash to food.
That´s about all for the moutains, I went on to get ripped off by the taxi as I said, landed in Marcapata, and I´ll write the decent from there next time.
I can´t stress enough, if you want an awesome trip in Peru, travel from Cusco to Puerto Maldonado overland in Sept 2010. It´ll be paved and the towns on the way will still be backcountry. Any earlier and you´re a cowboy. Any later and the gringo scams will be budding and prices increasing. Right now it´s the friendliest shack towns with some of the most amazing scenery, especially Tinke to Quince Mil.
Torrential rain here in Maldonado has stopped, and it´s not 95 degrees like yesterday. Time for exploring.
I don´t like spending too much time reading maps, so both times I left Cusco I used just a compass to find my way out. Luckily it worked 2 out of 2 times, though I didn´t know if I was going the right way for over an hour. My mission for the first day was to make it just 30km to Urcos.
On the way to Urcos I found some pretty awesome ruins, Rumicolca, just next to the highway. It was an Incan wall with a great view of the mountains behind it. They had some rocks sticking out of the wall that formed stairs, and nobody was around so I climbed to the top. Up there I saw what turned out to be Peru´s friendliest archeologist approaching me. I was not allowed to be up there, but I had to ask him that. We went through the usual friendly introductions, what´s your name, how old are you, etc. Eventually he tells me to ¨[verb] your things.¨ And we got stuck on that for a while, I told him I don´t know what [verb] means, and eventually I left. Turns out he was telling me to get my shit off the ruins(!), but in an entirely too nice way.
The main square at Urcos cracked me up. They had a Iwo Jima style statue of old school Incas putting in place the gay pride flag. I think rainbow flags must have some other meaning here.
Urcos was way too easy, it was all downhill, so I decided to try for the first mountain pass that afternoon. After some grueling uphill riding I was seeing stars and had to sit down for a while. I decided I´d find the next tiny town and free camp there, since I was almost out of water.
Free camping in Peru is kind of spooky, but I got used to it. As long as you don´t mind invading some street dog´s territory, you´ll be alright. Within the first hour a dog will be barking at you from the woods, and all night long you´ll hear dogs howling. Otherwise it´s the same as anywhere.
The next morning I went into the town, and talked to some of the most naive people I´ve ever met. I´d give them a 5 out of 100 for knowledge of their own backyard. I didn´t ask, but I bet they knew their own names, so that´s 2 points. They knew their own town of 100 people had a store, so that´s about 3 points. They had no idea where the next town was though, or at least I couldn´t get it out of them. Turns out it was maybe 20km away in the next valley, but over some rough uphill terrain. I also asked if there were llamas up that way, and they said no. Three hours later I was photographing a pack of wild llamas near the summit.
I wish the llamas would have been around earlier, I really could have used their help carrying my gear uphill. At first they let me get within 5ft for photos, but once they figured out I was trying to catch them they started running more. I really didn´t have the strength to pounce at 4050m elevation. With a lasso it would have been a done deal though, next time!
The next town was Ccamarcca. I was an alien to those people, got some strange looks. Food was extremely cheap though, six banannas and four pieces of bread for 60 cents.
Down the road a few kilometers, basically connected, was the friendliest town of the Andes, and I don´t know the name of it. I showed up right when school was out, and that´s something that´s hard for me. High school girls here really have a thing for me. Really Peru, that´s such a cruel trick, that´s the wrong demographic!! I am not into that, I could have very well booked a trip to Thailand but I didn´t, this is Peru. My visa says on it you have 90 beautiful days in our country to stay away from underage girls, or you´re going to jail.
So I´m rolling through this town at 3900m elevation and I´m pretty much 1950s Elvis Presley. Packs of girls are staring and giggling absolutely psychotically. One girl threw some sort of traditionally colored cloth at me, but she missed and it flew behind my back. I assume that´s culturally the same as bras on stage at a Who concert. It wasn´t just the girls either, soccer games were interrupted another minute down the road for way too enthusiastic waving and whistling. And then the road turned uphill just as I came upon some really young kids. I ran out of steam and was talking to them breathing heavy over my handlebars. Their curiosity burned up my vocab in minutes. I was the first gringo they´d ever seen, so if you go to this town you can be the second.
About 1km later I found a nice place to camp. I heard some sort of hoofed animal in the night walking around, never found out what it was. The owner of the nearby shop was an extremely friendly guy I had met on the road the night before. He gave me 30 cents off my purchase and free candy.
My tent was apparently set up on some Quechua path into town because at 6am my neighbor, an ancient man, stopped by to say hello. I opened the door and let him see La Casa del Gringo, and I think he offered me breakfast but I was still fearful of local cooking, so he said ciao.
I had visitors about every hour until I left. The second set was a weathered woman with a baby in a colorful sheet on her back. She wouldn´t let me photograph her, but it would have been so perfect with the mountains and all. Had to be there. There was a second lady too, and they were obviously talking about me in Quechua, but Spanish would have gone right over my head too.
Then there was this weathered man who came by twice. His teeth were as black as lead .22 rounds, and the brass casings must have been below the gumline. There was no bling to his smile, no whiteness at all. It must not have been painful, he couldn´t have been happier or more friendly. He tried to sell me a scarf and some things out of a plastic shopping bag, but I already have too much gear so I had to pass.
My campsite was on a small hill in a valley surrounded by mountain houses on the inclines. There was nowhere to hid using the bathroom, so plenty of people had a chance to see my bare gringo ass.
Eventually I grudgingly set out for the kilometers I had to make that day. It was a second mountain pass, not as high as the first, but I was worn out and the shops didn´t have much appealing food. My spaghetti turned out really bad the night before when I ran out of water, but a one eyed dog with ESP was right there when I threw it out, licked it all clean off the ground.
Heading up the next pass, a van full of construction workers slowed down for me. The same ones who made fun of me the evening before for my slow progress. They let me skitch off their van for 2km and wore my arm right out. It almost got me over the top though. Felt like cheating, but why not take a free ride paid for by the state of Peru?
The next town, Ocongate, wasn´t nearly as friendly as the last. The children just stared while I ate my Bolivian candy and whispered to each other. I figured out how to buy coca leaves here. It´s not at all stores, so you have to ask around. It´s under the counter so you have to ask the lady or 7 year old working there, and you get about a half ounce for 30 cents. And it´s so addicting, now that I´m down from altitude it´s been completely neglected in my bag for days. Tastes like grass, as in your lawn.
I had a pretty good campsite here, great view of a snowy peak and next to a wide stream. Before I fell asleep there were flashlights on my tent and footsteps. I gave and ¨Hola¨ and I got back, ¨Hola, policia! You speak eh-spanish?¨ My conversation with them went perfectly, one of the few. They said the people of the town didn´t like me there, I never figured out if it was one person or all of them. Luckily they were ok with one night, so they left. The next morning I found some pisspoor ruins within a few hundred feet, maybe. It could have been a foundation of a house from 100 years ago, I don´t know.
I made the worst meal of my trip here, couldn´t find tomate sauce all day, so I got what turned out to be anchovies in watery tomato sauce. So nasty! I put my flashlight on it for a second and saw nothing but gray matter and noodles, but I still ate it until it got cold, reheated it twice and eventually gave up on the last bit.
Next morning I made it up to Tinke, the town right next to Ausangate, a 6000m snowy peak. Snow´s a rarity here. I stopped in for supplies and talked to a quechua woman for a while. I thought she was 50 or 60 but she said she was 30. Not really a sexy place here, but very badass people. Her friend was a guide who brought gringos to the summit of Ausangate. It´s a 2 day trip and costs 1000 soles, so this guy must be the richest in town. He had a modern backpack and parka, but then his shoes were just leather planks with basically belts and almost black toes. He hikes up through the snow with those!
My best moment in this town was asking for the trash. She told me a trash person would probably stop by. This one gnarly looking woman came by in minutes with a wheel barrow loaded with odds and ends. I almost ALMOST asked if she was the trash woman. Turns out her wheel barrow was loaded with huuuge pots of food and covered with nasty sheets for insulation. And her food was awesome after that meal of anchovies. 180 degrees, from trash to food.
That´s about all for the moutains, I went on to get ripped off by the taxi as I said, landed in Marcapata, and I´ll write the decent from there next time.
I can´t stress enough, if you want an awesome trip in Peru, travel from Cusco to Puerto Maldonado overland in Sept 2010. It´ll be paved and the towns on the way will still be backcountry. Any earlier and you´re a cowboy. Any later and the gringo scams will be budding and prices increasing. Right now it´s the friendliest shack towns with some of the most amazing scenery, especially Tinke to Quince Mil.
Torrential rain here in Maldonado has stopped, and it´s not 95 degrees like yesterday. Time for exploring.
Cusco
I really dragged my feet in Cusco, kept coming up with every excuse not to leave on my bike. It´s comfortable there for expats, they´ll even give you oxygen masks in your hotel room if you pay enough. I missed out on almost all the touristy things besides seeing a military parade in the main square and taking a picture of a mom, son, and their llama. Immediately after the kid ran across the street to collect 30 cents from me, but I thought that would happen.
I have huge respect for the Peruvian army. I saw those guys running in formation in the hot sun in full fatigues with AK-47s and if that´s not enough, singing at the top of their lungs. All at 10,000ft altitude.
The second night I had a good time in the main square. You definitely can´t sit there peacefully. Within minutes a six year old girl was selling me a knit llama finger puppet for sixty cents. I thought it would be light enough to carry on my bike. Just as I pulled out my wallet I was mobbed by four other vendors who now saw a willing buyer. There were more finger puppets to buy, and paintings and everybody wanted my attention. I couldn´t listen to a full sentance from anybody before someone else would be beating me with their product. All the children were right in my face, leaning on my knees. And some of the best English I heard on the trip was from those guys.
Another hilarious thing in the main square were the fake deaf people. Two people approached me within minutes with clipboards that said in German and Spanish only, ¨I´m deaf, please give me a donation.¨ What an awesome idea, how can you argue with a deaf person?
I love how there are so many German tourists here the locals have picked up on a few phrases. They assume sometimes that I´m German, so I get a few words dropped. I´ve heard Tagesmenu (menu of the day), ¨Ist das dein freund?¨ and plenty of Hallos.
That´s about all for Cusco. Hostal Estrellita is really comfy, central, and 15 soles a night ($5.50). Stay there if you go.
I have huge respect for the Peruvian army. I saw those guys running in formation in the hot sun in full fatigues with AK-47s and if that´s not enough, singing at the top of their lungs. All at 10,000ft altitude.
The second night I had a good time in the main square. You definitely can´t sit there peacefully. Within minutes a six year old girl was selling me a knit llama finger puppet for sixty cents. I thought it would be light enough to carry on my bike. Just as I pulled out my wallet I was mobbed by four other vendors who now saw a willing buyer. There were more finger puppets to buy, and paintings and everybody wanted my attention. I couldn´t listen to a full sentance from anybody before someone else would be beating me with their product. All the children were right in my face, leaning on my knees. And some of the best English I heard on the trip was from those guys.
Another hilarious thing in the main square were the fake deaf people. Two people approached me within minutes with clipboards that said in German and Spanish only, ¨I´m deaf, please give me a donation.¨ What an awesome idea, how can you argue with a deaf person?
I love how there are so many German tourists here the locals have picked up on a few phrases. They assume sometimes that I´m German, so I get a few words dropped. I´ve heard Tagesmenu (menu of the day), ¨Ist das dein freund?¨ and plenty of Hallos.
That´s about all for Cusco. Hostal Estrellita is really comfy, central, and 15 soles a night ($5.50). Stay there if you go.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Into the Amazon Basin
Well, the road was definitely not all downhill, and definitely not finished. I´m now at the halfway point, Quince Mil. It´s a shack town in the jungle. The heat has been cranked up here, and so has the biodiversity. I already saw a parrot or something similar just sitting on a roof, among other birds of paradise. Butterflies are so numerous they´re almost a nuisance.
Peru is making a major investment in this trans mountain/jungle highway to Brazil. They really want an overland trucking route to connect the oceans. I´ve never seen such a professionally executed project. Maybe this is only interesting to me in a world domination way, but I think this is really cool, and want to sell my photos to The Economist. All the construction workers cheer me on, and they have all sorts of jobs, even down to a bunch of guys swinging machetes in the woods.
The road definitely wasn´t all downhill, what a joke. I read this in Lonely Planet shortly before leaving Cusco (thanks Justin!), so it wasn´t a surprise. There were three mountain passes, the first was 4100m and took me two days. I made friends with a van full of construction workers and they let me skitch their van about 2km almost over the second one, but it wore out my arm first.
The third one I cheated, it was 4700m high, and had an armed guard stopping people and asking if they had the balls to drive over it, etc. In the last town before it, Tinke, some gnarly weathered Quechua woman talked up how crazy it was, so I ended up deciding on a bus. When I went down to ask about the bus, I was stupid enough to get in some kid´s car and completely misunderstand the price of the ride. I thought he said S/7.50, but it was S/150 ($45). Cierte almost sounds like cientos I guess. Oops! Ah well, made his day for sure. He was not afraid to cross the centerline on every curve, so it was a pretty exciting ride, I have some crazy movies of his racecar driving.
I couldn´t belive there were pueblos up there around 4700m!! These people live in houses made of rocks on top of rocks with no electricity. I´m completely baffeled how they survive or even get water, unless they hike up to the snow.
The driver dropped me in Marcapata, which is a tiny town on a tiny flat spot in the mountains. From there it´s been downhill in the mud. I would have never made it uphill, my bike barely works when the chain oil has been replaced with mud. I would have never made it without a road bike, and I would have never made it if the road through the mountain platau was not brand new asfalt. If I had attempted this one year earlier I´d still be out there, cussing and dehydrated.
Got much more to write once I get to Puerto Maldonado, gotta get on the road now.
Peru is making a major investment in this trans mountain/jungle highway to Brazil. They really want an overland trucking route to connect the oceans. I´ve never seen such a professionally executed project. Maybe this is only interesting to me in a world domination way, but I think this is really cool, and want to sell my photos to The Economist. All the construction workers cheer me on, and they have all sorts of jobs, even down to a bunch of guys swinging machetes in the woods.
The road definitely wasn´t all downhill, what a joke. I read this in Lonely Planet shortly before leaving Cusco (thanks Justin!), so it wasn´t a surprise. There were three mountain passes, the first was 4100m and took me two days. I made friends with a van full of construction workers and they let me skitch their van about 2km almost over the second one, but it wore out my arm first.
The third one I cheated, it was 4700m high, and had an armed guard stopping people and asking if they had the balls to drive over it, etc. In the last town before it, Tinke, some gnarly weathered Quechua woman talked up how crazy it was, so I ended up deciding on a bus. When I went down to ask about the bus, I was stupid enough to get in some kid´s car and completely misunderstand the price of the ride. I thought he said S/7.50, but it was S/150 ($45). Cierte almost sounds like cientos I guess. Oops! Ah well, made his day for sure. He was not afraid to cross the centerline on every curve, so it was a pretty exciting ride, I have some crazy movies of his racecar driving.
I couldn´t belive there were pueblos up there around 4700m!! These people live in houses made of rocks on top of rocks with no electricity. I´m completely baffeled how they survive or even get water, unless they hike up to the snow.
The driver dropped me in Marcapata, which is a tiny town on a tiny flat spot in the mountains. From there it´s been downhill in the mud. I would have never made it uphill, my bike barely works when the chain oil has been replaced with mud. I would have never made it without a road bike, and I would have never made it if the road through the mountain platau was not brand new asfalt. If I had attempted this one year earlier I´d still be out there, cussing and dehydrated.
Got much more to write once I get to Puerto Maldonado, gotta get on the road now.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Cusco Cycling
Finally did some serious biking yesterday. I tried to make it to Moray (Incan terraced salt pits, and ancient experimental crop area), but I was way off, so I started trying for the tourist town Urubamba. In the end I ended up off the beaten path in Huayabamba, the next town over, at sun down.
Huayabamba is in a deep valley, and before decending to it I climbed around some less popular ruins. I was completely by myself, almost made it to the peak. From there I could see the boring trucking route into the valley, or alternatively the narrow dirt roads the locals use to access their terraced farms. Of course I came here to do the dirt roads!
It was more of a staircase at times built out of rocks, probably intended for mules and alpaca traffic. I only saw one ancient man using it besides myself. If you want to try it yourself, go north of Chinchero a few miles, 1km past the ruins, you´ll see a dirt road to a very poor but friendly town. Basically you keep to the right, eventually it´ll turn into a farming field, and then a trail.
From there you can somewhat choose your own adventure, there are really steep routes to save time sometimes, tons of switchbacks. It probably took me two hours to get down, almost no pedaling. This road was not on my highway map.
After getting down I realized I was in the wrong town, and the friendliest locals so far helped me get on the bus to Cusco, with my bike stashed up top. I´m not even sure they tied it down.
About 30 seconds into the bus ride we came across tons of broken glass and car parts. A compact car had nailed a graising cow, must have got off his leash. The farmers were trying to do CPR on the cow, but no rescue breathing of course. The windsheild was completely smashed, and seat belts are not popular in this country, so it couldn´t have been good.
The bus was standing room only, so I´m sure everyone on that bus is telling all their friends and family about the massive gringo who could touch the ceiling of the bus with the side of his face. They must have some free source of gasoline, the ride was over an hour, and cost just $1.
In my hostel there are some amazing travelers. One guy rode his motorcycle from Fresno to here. Everyone asks if you can do the panama canal with a car, the answer is that you have to build a crate and ship it DHL. Takes a few days and a few hundred dollars it sounds like.
Another bike touring guy is staying there, he started in Quebec SEVEN YEARS AGO! His name is Hero.
Getting on the road to Puerto Maldonado today or tomorrow. My lungs hurt from yesterday yet.
Huayabamba is in a deep valley, and before decending to it I climbed around some less popular ruins. I was completely by myself, almost made it to the peak. From there I could see the boring trucking route into the valley, or alternatively the narrow dirt roads the locals use to access their terraced farms. Of course I came here to do the dirt roads!
It was more of a staircase at times built out of rocks, probably intended for mules and alpaca traffic. I only saw one ancient man using it besides myself. If you want to try it yourself, go north of Chinchero a few miles, 1km past the ruins, you´ll see a dirt road to a very poor but friendly town. Basically you keep to the right, eventually it´ll turn into a farming field, and then a trail.
From there you can somewhat choose your own adventure, there are really steep routes to save time sometimes, tons of switchbacks. It probably took me two hours to get down, almost no pedaling. This road was not on my highway map.
After getting down I realized I was in the wrong town, and the friendliest locals so far helped me get on the bus to Cusco, with my bike stashed up top. I´m not even sure they tied it down.
About 30 seconds into the bus ride we came across tons of broken glass and car parts. A compact car had nailed a graising cow, must have got off his leash. The farmers were trying to do CPR on the cow, but no rescue breathing of course. The windsheild was completely smashed, and seat belts are not popular in this country, so it couldn´t have been good.
The bus was standing room only, so I´m sure everyone on that bus is telling all their friends and family about the massive gringo who could touch the ceiling of the bus with the side of his face. They must have some free source of gasoline, the ride was over an hour, and cost just $1.
In my hostel there are some amazing travelers. One guy rode his motorcycle from Fresno to here. Everyone asks if you can do the panama canal with a car, the answer is that you have to build a crate and ship it DHL. Takes a few days and a few hundred dollars it sounds like.
Another bike touring guy is staying there, he started in Quebec SEVEN YEARS AGO! His name is Hero.
Getting on the road to Puerto Maldonado today or tomorrow. My lungs hurt from yesterday yet.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Bus to Cusco
I got into the social network of Spaniard girls for a few days. Followed one to a comfy hostel/home stay, she flew home, then followed two more to the cheapest bus to Cusco. They are awesome, half this continent is their playground. They´re so comfortable here, it´s like they never left home. And unlike other expats they´ll teach you Spanish.
The intercity buses have been bizarre lately. Now they fingerprint everyone´s index finger when you get on, and yesterday they had a cheap camcorder velcrowed on top of a recording TV/VCR watching everyone hand over their ticket. Maybe it´s so if the bus goes over the edge they can show my parents a nice tape of me arguing with them in broken Spanish over whether or not I have to check my small backpack.
By the way, a massive bike box to Cusco with Cromotex costs 50 soles. Just show up early and it´ll get on the same bus as you.
That driver has no fear too. There are guardrails, but only some of the time. And why should he be, we were riding on the Mercedez Benz Marco Polo line, not just any double decker bus. I started wondering today...did that driver do all 21 hours straight? I´m not sure if there were two or not. The stewardess looked in great form for having slept in her clothes just like the rest of us.
On hour 14 of that bus ride I wasn´t even ansy to get off, the views were incredible! Everything after Abancay was top notch. The switchbacks after that town took probably an hour and a half for the first mountain pass. I definitely recommend the Lima to Cusco bus, then maybe fly on your way out.
Some seriously gnarly farmer folk live back in those hills, I´m sure I´ll learn all about them soon. You´ll see cows grasing on some switchback and it looks like they have just 6m x 2m to make use of. Their irrigation systems must have been backbreaking to build, they pull all the water off the roads and dump it into terraced or high grade plots.
I made all sorts of a fuss with my bike after getting into town. It started off really smooth, but then I had the wrong address for South American Explorers, where I was going to assemble everything. Turns out it was another two blocks and then up some hundreds of stairs. A rough experience on my first day at 10,000ft altitude. I stashed the lighter half of my stuff with some pharmacy girls, and then this really eccentric social worker saw me trying to carry the box by myself and helped out. First we went the wrong way several times though, just to make it really gut wrenching. He spent a good jovial hour of manual labor with me, so I tipped him and his poor kids more than twice the taxi fare. Oh yeah, and he spoke fluent German, how weird.
Llamas are more scare than I though. I saw a small one tied up outside a gift shop, but that´s about it. I´m still in the market to purchase one.
Oh yeah, my travel plans! So I want to ditch the trucking routes and do backcountry if I can, so I´m planning to go to this jungle town, Puerto Maldonado, near the border of Bolivia. It´s almost all downhill from here, 500km, so it´s almost cheating. Then, if you´ll follow along on your maps, there are no towns or roads south of there, just rivers and national parks, so I hope to get to this tiny town, Astillero, by jungle boat. Then continue on backroads from there back up the mountains to lake Titicaca, and on to La Paz.
This looked great on 1980s maps in Lima, and the people in the hostal said, ¨Can you even drive to Puerto Maldonado? You have to fly.¨ All very promising. Unfortunately, this dude burst my bubble today, telling me that the road to P.M. is brand new, in fact the newest road in Peru and under construction right now. The first 30 miles are all original nastiness though, so that might be enough to make it a private road for me. I´m going to do more research tomorrow, but that´s the plan till further notice.
Till next time.
The intercity buses have been bizarre lately. Now they fingerprint everyone´s index finger when you get on, and yesterday they had a cheap camcorder velcrowed on top of a recording TV/VCR watching everyone hand over their ticket. Maybe it´s so if the bus goes over the edge they can show my parents a nice tape of me arguing with them in broken Spanish over whether or not I have to check my small backpack.
By the way, a massive bike box to Cusco with Cromotex costs 50 soles. Just show up early and it´ll get on the same bus as you.
That driver has no fear too. There are guardrails, but only some of the time. And why should he be, we were riding on the Mercedez Benz Marco Polo line, not just any double decker bus. I started wondering today...did that driver do all 21 hours straight? I´m not sure if there were two or not. The stewardess looked in great form for having slept in her clothes just like the rest of us.
On hour 14 of that bus ride I wasn´t even ansy to get off, the views were incredible! Everything after Abancay was top notch. The switchbacks after that town took probably an hour and a half for the first mountain pass. I definitely recommend the Lima to Cusco bus, then maybe fly on your way out.
Some seriously gnarly farmer folk live back in those hills, I´m sure I´ll learn all about them soon. You´ll see cows grasing on some switchback and it looks like they have just 6m x 2m to make use of. Their irrigation systems must have been backbreaking to build, they pull all the water off the roads and dump it into terraced or high grade plots.
I made all sorts of a fuss with my bike after getting into town. It started off really smooth, but then I had the wrong address for South American Explorers, where I was going to assemble everything. Turns out it was another two blocks and then up some hundreds of stairs. A rough experience on my first day at 10,000ft altitude. I stashed the lighter half of my stuff with some pharmacy girls, and then this really eccentric social worker saw me trying to carry the box by myself and helped out. First we went the wrong way several times though, just to make it really gut wrenching. He spent a good jovial hour of manual labor with me, so I tipped him and his poor kids more than twice the taxi fare. Oh yeah, and he spoke fluent German, how weird.
Llamas are more scare than I though. I saw a small one tied up outside a gift shop, but that´s about it. I´m still in the market to purchase one.
Oh yeah, my travel plans! So I want to ditch the trucking routes and do backcountry if I can, so I´m planning to go to this jungle town, Puerto Maldonado, near the border of Bolivia. It´s almost all downhill from here, 500km, so it´s almost cheating. Then, if you´ll follow along on your maps, there are no towns or roads south of there, just rivers and national parks, so I hope to get to this tiny town, Astillero, by jungle boat. Then continue on backroads from there back up the mountains to lake Titicaca, and on to La Paz.
This looked great on 1980s maps in Lima, and the people in the hostal said, ¨Can you even drive to Puerto Maldonado? You have to fly.¨ All very promising. Unfortunately, this dude burst my bubble today, telling me that the road to P.M. is brand new, in fact the newest road in Peru and under construction right now. The first 30 miles are all original nastiness though, so that might be enough to make it a private road for me. I´m going to do more research tomorrow, but that´s the plan till further notice.
Till next time.
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