Nacho Picchu

Almost everyone has been here. If you have seen the National Geographic photo angle of the ruins then you are half way there.

To get to Nacho Picchu you can bus or taxi to ?Ollanatumbes from Cuzco. Its usually from there that you can train to Aguas Calientes beneath Nacho Picchu. Due to major floods earlier this year you now have to travel further to get to the train. PeruRail reminded me of a Disneyland ride. The announcer spoke in American-English and when the train arrived it seemed like it was going to take me to Space Mountain. When you get on the train they give you a PeruRail box full of mysterious food. Unfortunately, the box wouldn´t fit into my all ready bloated bag.

In Aguas Calientes you are bombarded by restaurant workers among the streets. They all want you to go to the best restaurant. If you are tactful enough you can play them off eachother for a better price. The main lure for these restaurants is their nachos. If you are undecided they will offer free nachos to sweeten the deal. Or, if you walk away they will offer nachos. You pretty much have to do little to nothing to be offered free nachos. Nacho frenzy.

If you choose to go to Nacho Picchu with a tour guide they want to get up there as early as possible. If you want to walk up Huayna Picchu (an adjacent hill with a different view of Nacho Picchu) you have to wake up at 4am to get a ticket. I couldn´t be bothered to wake up at such an ungodly hour so I decided to wing it. I figured that, if I wanted, I would find a way up Huayna Picchu.

When we arrived at the top, Nacho Picchu was completely socked in. Nacho Picchu wasn´t going to give itself up so easily. I had talked with another traveler who told me that when he went up that it was socked in during the whole day and that he couldn´t see anything.

Eventually the clouds relaxed and dissipated revealing the essence of Nacho Picchu. From there, we walked amongst the ruins and resident llamas. Later, I somehow managed to talk my way into being able to go up Huayna Picchu without a ticket.

In all, it was a pretty neat spot. But, if you have seen your fair share of Mayan, Aztec or Incan ruins it may not be as impressive. There are also tons of tourists stumbling around. I enjoyed the llamas and the history of Nacho Picchu. Briefly, Nacho Picchu was built by the Incans close to their jungle enemies. It was partly a strategic spot where they could expand their empire into the Amazon. It was abandoned when the conquistadors arrived but was never found by them. The Incan emperor at the time requested a last stand in Vilcabamba (another ruins a few hours away) to fend off the conquistadors led by the nasty Spanish pig farmer Francisco Pizarro.

(some sort of reptile I found hiding in a rock)

Person in crowd of people ¨oh look they are playing!¨

Person again ¨what kind of playing is...¨

¨Oh¨

I Think I´m Turning Quechua I Really Think So

(Lago Titicaca + Bolivia in the distance)

I´ve got a picture of me and you. You wrote ¨rimaykullayki¨ I wrote ¨me too¨.

A man with chiclet teeth turned his teethy grin towards me. He wanted to teach me Quechua (an idigenous language of Peru). As the bus to Puno rolled along he had me pernouncing its words. A simple ´hello´ is a mouthful. He would sit back and produce hearty laughs.

In Puno, we set off onto Lake Titicaca. In Quechua, Titicaca means puma and stone. They seem to produce animals out of all geological formations.

We arrived at the island where we would stay the night. We would stay with an idigenous family.

We lined up along the dock as the families approached. Which one would be ours? I felt like some sort of animal being selected. What are the desired attributes? Pick me!

Seher pointed out a woman who kept licking her fingers. Yup, that was going to be the one. She approached and greeted us. We followed her the hill towards her house like ducklings. She didn´t speak much Spanish (or she chose not to).


We arrived at our new home and were brought to the kitchen for lunch. Mother, father, two daughters? and two sons were there. This would be our rental family.

We gifted them a bag of rice and snacks. Sitting down, I attempted to converse with them in Spanish and then Quechua. There was much silence in the room. The father rolled out a cloth full of green beans he had grown for an appetizer. We dined on strange-delicious potatoes, soup and fried cheese. Delicious!

(dinner?)

In the afternoon we met at the local soccer arena for a match. It was the internationals versus the Peruvians. It was a close and hard fought match ending in 5-4. In the end, the Peruvians prevailed with their altitude advantage.

Then it was off to the dance hall. Our rental mothers and daughters dressed us up in traditional clothing and escorted us. We danced for hours. The most popular, and only dance move, was a move where you stepped forward and back. This move would be repeated during all of the 10 minute Peruvian pan flute songs during the night. My rental sister seemed completely uninterested in dancing. Why? She would avoid eye contact and maintain a straight face. It made me think that they probably got tired of foreigners pouring in and out every week. This seemed to make sense because earlier my rental brother chose not to acknowledge my existence. I tried to speak to him in the greatest South American language, kicking a soccer ball around, but he couldn´t be bothered.

I was getting tired from dancing to all the 10 minute Peruvian flute songs but I kept being selected to dance. I would half heartedly say,
¨Estoy cansado¨ (im tired) but didn´t want to offend.

I eventually danced myself towards a good sleep that night.

When it was time to leave the next day all the rental mothers saw their children off on the dock. We turned to look but our mother wasn´t there. Rejected!


Before returning to Puno, we stopped at another island. Here we learned about the local dating ritual. Besides clothing indicating status, the dating scene involves rock throwing. If a man is interested in a girl he would toss a rock at the girls back. If she turned around and smiled it would be good news. If she wasn´t interested in him, she would turn around and try and hit him with another rock.

I don´t think this would go down well in Canada. Maybe I better stick with being Canadian.

(Cat Jacket!)

Colca Canyon: The Life and Times of Pepe

(Arequipa. Volcan El Misti in the background)

Arequipa is surrounded by dozens of volcanoes and the second deepest canyon in the world. We booked a two day trek in the Colca Canyon. Pepe was our guide.

Since we were staying one night in the canyon we had to leave Arequipa at 3am. We packed into a van and were on our way. I chose the wrong seat. I sat behind the driver who kept the window down the whole ride because the defrost did not work. I managed to get a few minutes of sleep to wake up cold. The ground outside was coated in snow and we were cruising at about 4900 metres with the windows down. If only I had my alpaca gloves at this time.

Our first stop was the condor lookout on the edge of the canyon.



Here, the gigantic birds swooped amongst the cliffs. There were about eight condors flying around when we were there. We were pretty lucky to see them at this time because eventually they all dissapeared.



It was time to leave the condors. Pepe rounded everyone up. He stood and waited until I got in the bus while everyone else was still at the lookout. Something about him seemed quite arrogant and I was not a fan so far.

We started our trek a couple hours away from the condor lookout. I broke to the front of the pack to soak up the scenery. Pepe caught up behind me and began to talk. We talked about the typical things travelers talk about: where are you from, how old are you, your name etc... and then Pepe began to tell me his life story.

Pepe (in his mid 30´s) used to be a mountain climbing guide. He climbed many of the local volcanoes until he fell off a cliff and dammaged his knee. Ever since, he has only been able to trek. He began to tell me how he lived with his grandma because his mom died and about the rest of his family. He told me all about life in Peru .

As we walked Pepe put his hand on my shoulder and said,

¨This story is only for you¨ he said with a smirk.

Pepe went on to share stories of his sexual escapades (even though I didnt ask him to). Pepe told me how he had gotten involved with two girls that he had been guiding one time. Im going to omit the details.

Oh Pepe, you´re all right.

Eventually we crossed over a bridge to the other side of the canyon. A group of girls who had come along on the trek were far behind with our other guide. We were behind schedule so we had to push forward.

While eating lunch Pepe gave us a choice. We could either wait for the rest of the group or move forward with another guide. We wanted to move forward so we went with another guide.

Our new guide was quite knowledgeable about the area. We got to try the fruits off the cactus. One was named Tuna and there was this other one that was incredibley sour. It induced sour-sweats and would be awesome as an alternative to a pisco sour (peruvian coctail).


We made it to the oasis just before nightfall. As it got darker we wondered about the other group with Pepe. It was dark and the girls didn´t have flashlights. We wondered if they would make it to the oasis to sleep.

Just after we finished dinner and were heading to bed, the other group rolled in. They were upset with Pepe because he was forcing them to rent mules out of the canyon the next day. They were too slow on their feet.

The next day I hauled out of the canyon. I was preparing for some climbing in the near future so I decided I would see how fast I could get up.



I waited at top for the others. Soon the girls on the mules arrived along with the others. Apparently, one of the girls had fallen off the mules earlier. Pepe looked frustrated.


We got into a small town and had breakfast. Afterwards, we met some dog with utters and then headed off to the hotsprings.

We were apparently behind schedule in getting back to Arequipa. Some people had to catch a bus that night but the driver and Pepe were being leisurely about the whole thing. At lunch people began to talk about Pepe. It was a mutiny. Pepe didn´t even know it.

When we eventually got back to Arequipa. I quietly asked another person if we were supposed to tip. No one that I knew of tipped and most of us rushed out of the bus.

On the way off, Pepe called to me and waved goodbye. He smiled. It was a slightly awkward situation but I waved back. Everyone else had jumped ship. I felt bad for Pepe. I would imagine that its not always easy to manage a large group of tourists.

Poor Mr. Pepe.

Rocky Bottoms and Sandy Tops

Although these could be cool names for exotic dancers, this blog is not about exotic dancers.

My first couple days in Peru were spent alongside the desert in a surftown called Mancora. After lazing at the beach for a while I decided I would go surfing. The main surfspot in this town is a point break. The waves break at the end of a small point and wash along the rocky bottom.

(enter Mancora)

Since it was late in the afternoon I decided I would put off surfing until the next day. Cheche, the Peruvian, really wanted to surf with me. He told me he had been in surfing competitions. He also suggested that the best time to surf was at sunset. He said that I should come with him and that I could rent a board for 10 soles. I wasn´t really doing anything so I decided to go along.

At the beach, Cheches friend ´Marco´ appeared with a board. I only had a 20 soles bill on me so I gave it to him. He told me I could surf as long as I wanted. I got out on the surf with Cheche and a few other remaining people. Not long after, the sun stepped off the horizon handing over the reigns to the moon. It was dark and I couldn´t see the waves very well. Cheche seemed to be having a good time. I was just struggling to catch a wave. It was then that my mind began wander. I remembered that sharks often feed at dusk and dawn. Its not likely I would encounter one but I started to get the heeby jeebies. I imagined a gigantic shark emerging from the depths coming up to chew on me. I fell off my board a couple times and quickly scrambled back on to avoid the phantom shark below. I decided to pack it in. I had only been surfing for just over half an hour but I couldnt see much so I couldnt really do anything. I paddled to the beach and sat down. Cheche and the others surfed for about 45 minutes more. ´Marco´ came over and I told him that I should be able to use the board again since I paid him 20 soles. He agreed and told me to come by and see him the next day.

(Phantom Shark in question: Watch this informative video for more details)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1nzd0R_OeOc

The next morning I set out to retrieve my board from ´Marco´. I went to the hut that he told me he worked at. I went there and told them what ´Marco´ had told me.

¨Who is Marco?¨ they asked.

I half expected this as Peru had all ready begun with shenanigans. I described what he looked like and told them that he said he would let me use a board. They pòinted me over to another surf hut across the way and said that he might work there. As I began to walk over, one of the workers said ¨good luck¨ in Spanish probably thinking that i would not understand.



At the other hut, they seemed to know a ´Marco´ but he did not work for them. I was not going to leave until they gave me a board. There must be justice! Eventually I talked them into giving me board for free for a couple hours. When I was leaving I was hoping to run into ´Marco´ or Cheche because I was going to exchange some fun words with them.

(small swell during the morning)

Down south...

We arrived in Huacachina. Huacachina is in the land of sandy tops. It is a small town on an oasis in the middle of a sand desert. Spend a couple days there and you will brushing sand out of your clothes and hair for weeks.

We were here to sandboard and we would do this via a large dune buggy that frequently shot flames out of its exhaust. The dune buggy held about 10 people or so and I think our driver may have been bipolar. After launching off roller coaster-esque dunes it was time to sandboard.

The driver gave us peices of wax and told us to wax up the board or we will break our necks and go to the hospital. This was his thing. He got joy from trying to strike fear into his passengers. He would keep saying such things with a smile. I wasn´t buying it.

(driver in the center: okay, he was an all right guy)

Sandboarding is nothing like snowboarding or surfing. The skills dont really carry over. After securing my feet into the flimsy velcro straps I was off! I fell flat on my ass. People were bailing all over the side of the dune. My feet kept falling out of the straps but I eventually made it to the bottom of the dune. I blame the straps.



The other method was to go on your stomach (face first) and launch down the hill. I did this for the rest of the day.

Apparently another fun thing to do in Huacachina is to take a couple hours to push your bike to the top of a dune in the sweltering heat to realise that it wont work in the sand.

¨This is going to be way awesome¨

¨I wonder if bikes work in the sand...¨

Peru:The Game

This story happened to a friend of mine. Lets call him Pablo.

Pablo has become a reluctant player in the Peruvian Game.

Pablo set out to make his way to Peru from Ecuador. He began his journey early in the morning from Cuenca. The bus ticket vendor had insured him that the bus would take him to Mancora (Peru). Once he was about 2 hours from the border he was told that in order to get to the border he would have to take another bus. The bus driver kindly picked up his bags and put them on the side of the dusty road. Pablo stood on the side of the highway with Peruvian randoms waiting for some magical bus to take him the rest of the way. This was the beginning of the shenanigans.

Success! A bus pulled up and Pablo was given the opportunity to stand on a sweaty bus for over an hour. Things could have been worse if he had not bought 2 ice creams onboard. The bus pulled up beside a little shack along the highway. Pablo was told to get off again and that he must get some stamps from the immigration officials. Pablo complied and lugged his bags towards the que. He got his stamps and was ready to return to the bus. The bus was gone. Hmm. Pablo had heard that you could take a taxi across the border and so he figured he would do this as there were no other buses coming along.

Pablo, all ready skeptical of all taxi drivers, took a gamble and decided to go with a taxi driver who was inside the immigration office. You can trust immigration officials right? The driver must be trustable as he is in the office with the official. All right. Pablo went with the taxi driver. On his way walking to the cab two Peruvians shook their head at him. He did not realise this at the time but it may have been a warning.

Pablo arrived at a chaotic small town about 10km from the border. The taxi driver told him that he must walk across the bridge to the other side and get a taxi. Pablo had no intentions of walking to the border with all his bags through the chaos of the people. The taxi driver kindly signalled to a taxi driver who was trustworthy. The whole thing all ready stunk to Pablo but Pablo pushed forward and played the cards that he had. He got into the cab and there was a driver and younger man in the front passenger seat. The young man did all the talking and the old man kept quiet.

Pablo was told that he had needed $250 American to cross the border because the officials would make sure he would have enough money to leave the country. Pablo was skeptical and began to argue with the young man. He did not believe their tale but wanted to get moving and was all ready tired. He decided to go to an ATM and withdraw Peruvian Soles because it made more sense to him. With the young mans best acting ability he put his face in his hands and told Pablo that he needed American dollars. Pablo was getting frustrated and told them that the machines would not withdraw American. After arguing again he decided to just take out the American and get on with the whole thing. Pablo took out $240 American and said ¨Vamos!¨. The young man told Pablo he needed $250. He took the cash in his hands and began to count it to show that he needed $10 more.


The cabbies drove him to the Peruvian immigration office. When Pablo was getting out of the cab a police office came up to him.


¨Please sir. Pleeeease. Two dollars for a coca cola. Please sir¨ the officer whined to Pablo.


The young man turned to Pablo and told him to just give him the money. Pablo wanted the police officer to go away so he compromised with one dollar. He was sure to hand it to the young man first and told the young man to give it to the office himself. He did not trust any of these people and did not want to directly give the money to the officer in case it was some sort of trap.

The quiet cab driver walked Pablo to the office and Pablo got his stamps. As they drove him to Tumbes (in Peru where he could then get a bus to Mancora) they kept telling him that he should secure his money and belongings and that it was very dangerous around. They told Pablo that they would protect him and get him to the bus station. Pablo smelt bullshit but couldn´t put his finger on it. They took him to the bus station and Pablo got on a bus to Mancora. He was relieved to be on a bus and was tired from the long morning and border crossing.

He arrived in Mancora and checked into a hotel for a good nights sleep.


THE NEXT DAY...


Pablo awoke to a knock at his door. It was the hotel manager. She held two twenty dollar american bills in her hand. Both bills had holes in them. Pablo rubbed his eyes and stepped outside to talk. The hotel manager told Pablo that the bills were phoney. Pablo picked them up and looked at them. They looked real. She pointed at the serial number on them and both serial numbers were the same. Pablo was tricked. He immediately realised that the rest of his money was probably phoney as well. He had some Peruvian Soles and so decided to pay the manager with that money.


Everything made sense to Pablo. He now remembered small bills being handed off between bus drivers, taxi drivers and police officers. The immigration official must have been involved as well. He realised that it must have been a slight of hand with his money when they counted it. If he had not been so tired he may have been able to prevent this scam. It was a well organized scam and everyone was getting their cut.

As he stood in his room looking at the bills, Checho (23 years old) came up. He told Pablo not to worry and that if he wanted he could take him to the bank to check if the rest were fake. Pablo all ready knew they were but agreed. As he walked with Checho, Checho told him to not tell the manager that he had more phoney money and that he should just try and pass it on. Pablo was unsure about this. When they arrived at the bank the two of them spoke to a bank worker. The bank worker told Pablo and Checho that the answer was quite clear in what should be done with the money. He told them that Pablo should just do the right thing and just try and pass on the fake money. Pablo had $220 american of fake money (2 twenties had holes in them now and would be able to be used). Checho told Pablo that the fake money was really good and that the only reason it didnt work is because the two bills had the same serial number.

Pablo thought to himself for a while. $220 was a lot of money and could go a long way down here. Pablo must try and make his money back! He did not want to play the game but he did not have much of a choice. He was a reluctant player.


Passing it off


The first time he tried to pass the buck was at a souvenir hut in Mancora. He decided that he must buy something that would not require much change because often vendors would have to go to other stores to get change. He decided two t-shirts for 12 dollars would be fine. He picked out his t-shirts and gave the money. The lady told him that she needed change and so she walked off. Pablo waited around browsing through more clothes. She returned and held the twenty dollar bill in her hand.


´Falso´ she said to Pablo.

Pablo drew a puzzled look and replied ´que?´

She repeated herself. Pablo took the bill and carefully looked at it and said no to the lady. The lady insisted. Pablo said it was real and that he had gotten it from the border. The lady shook her head as she knew the crap that went on in that border. She gave Pablo back the bill and Pablo told her that he would return later with Soles to buy the shirts.

This was going to be more difficult then he had thought. The lady had taken the bill to the bank for change and so Pablo was going to have to re-organize his game strategy. Afterall, Pablo was playing to win.



DAYS LATER IN THE SOUTH...


Pablo, who was slightly discouraged from his first failed attempt decided that he would try again. Him and his friend ate breakfast at a restaurant and he used one of his bills. The lady took a while to return. When she came back she held change in her hand.

The first buck had been passed. Ever since, Pablo has been winning. He never wanted anything to do with this game but he was forced into it. Pablo hopes that other tourists are not given the phoney bills as change but cannot think about that right now. Pablo must win back his money which he worked hard to earn.


Pablo must play the game.

Every Mountain Makes Its Own Sound

As an acclimatization hike I decided to go up Rucu Pichincha (4,698m). It was my plan to do this so that I could later climb Cotopaxi (an active volcano at 5,897 m).

I woke up early in hopes of beating the clouds which roll into Quito in the afternoon. I began walking from the hostel to the Teleferico (a tram which takes you up to (4,050 m). Half an hour in, I hailed a cab for a dollar. I wanted to get up the tram ASAP.

When I arrived at the the Teleferico there was a gigantic amusement park. Looney Toons music was playing and people were trying to coax me into the empty roller coasters. I declined. Today is no day for such fun!

At the top of the Teleferico I began to hike towards the top.

(Rucu Pichincha)

It was shrubland all around and rocks in the distance. It was here that I could hear Rucu. Every mountain makes its own sound. Rucu whirrred as gusts of wind ran up its spine and the distant buzz of hydro-lines told me that Quito was watching.

About 20 minutes in I met an Austrian couple who had cycled down from Alaska and was heading to Argentina. I hiked with them a bit until I reached the foot of the Rucu. From there they began to move quite slowly so I had to leave them behind. I began making my way up Rucu. I started walking up a sandy slope following footsteps. Not long after, some guide and tourists came running down the slope and I was told that I was taking the hard route up. I re-aligned myself onto ajacent rocks and soil. The clouds began to settle in around Rucu. Always with the mountain clouds! I looked below me and some guy was rushing up the side of the mountain. I don`t know how he had caught up so fast. He must have been running up the mountain. I tried to keep him behind me but he surpassed me and dissapeared.

I was told there would be a little bit of a scramble near the top and so i climbed up a small rock. I looked over the edge and it was quite a drop-off. That must not be the way and if it is I´m not going up it. I looked around at the ground and found some more footprints and a lid of a tuna can. The tuna can lid was my northern star and it guided me up the last little scramble to the top. At the top I could not see anything except for the other hiker who had passed me.

We began to talk and he told me that he was from Austria and that he comes up Rucu frequently. He owns a bar in the city called The Turtle Head. As he was quite familiar with the route I told him that I would follow him down.

On the way down we took the `highway` (the sandy slope I had been trying to walk up earlier). We swiftly skii`d down on our hiking boots. I read that Rucu Pichincha takes about 3-6 hours both ways. It took me a little less than three hours with no altitude effects: headache or dizzyness. The Austrian must have done it in 2 1/2 or less.

As we carried on a semi-coherent conversation in Spanish he turned to me and began to speak in English.

``My name is Heinz. Like the ketchup.``

``Mucho gusto (glad to meet you) Heinz``. I replied.

The Skipping Record and How to Shrink a Human Head

``I don`t feel so well``

I´m not going to go into detail about the bowel infection I had in Quito but Quito turned out to be my skipping record. I slinked around Quito for 6 days with low-energy not really being able to do anything. It was the same thing everyday.

``Sounds like some sort of shitty movie``

But alas, the record stopped skipping and I was able to go to Mitad Del Mundo (the equator line). The equator line seemed to sort things out for me. It must have been all the bogus experiments they showed me and the shrunken head. I was giddy.

This equator line is not to be confused with the faux equator line 10 minutes away. The faux equator line was discovered by the French. I believe it was Naploean and Gérard Depardieu, that French guy from the movie Green Card, who flew down in a helicopter and discovered the faux equator. Anyways, the faux equator line was off by quite a bit so they decided to build a giant amusement park around it. If you take a bus or taxi to Mitad Del Mundo they will drop you off at the French equator line. 10 minutes away GPS discovered the real equator line (the one I went to).

(Super healing equator powers!)

I watched in awe as the tour guide manipulated the water basin to spin counter-clockwise north of the equator and clockwise to the south (the coriolis effect: only applies to large bodies such as hurricanes). Impressive! What other tricks do you have? She insisted that because of the gravitational pull at the equator that you cannot walk with your eyes closed along the equator line. She`s good. Other notable tricks included balancing an egg and prying open fingers.

It was all good. The best part was when they showed me the shrunken head. They also told me how to shrink a head which I will now teach you!

Shrinking Heads 101

1)Pick out a family member or enemies head (this will determine what you will do with it later)

2)Start cutting off the head (best to do this after they are dead)

3)Cut carefully...careful!

4)Empty contents of the inside leaving only the skin

5)Hang head over shoulder like a murse

6)Begin boiling in secret ingredients

7)....

Wait...what! What secret ingredients?? The tour guide told us that the ingredients are no longer known and that if they were known Ecuadorians would go on a head-shrinking frienzy. Damn. Oh well. I guess I will just try and find a head thats all ready shrunken at a market in Cusco or La Paz.

C`est la vie.

(dont forget your shrunken sloth head: great for coffee tables or as a stocking stuffer)