In the words of the immortal Nickelback . . .

(and because I know so many of you are fans)

"It's been a while"

I’m going to try to get caught up in one fell swoop. Here goes.

Moving back what feels like about a million years ago to Buenos Aires (in actuality, August 15-20): Buenos Aires is the best city in South America, bar none, but its not really a South American cityExplanation: The city is, like NYC, Hong Kong, and (I guess) Tokyo, a city that makes you say, “Wow! This place is impressive. I wonder how many movies have been shot here.” I call these “wow” cities. I consider them world capitals and Buenos Aires is (despite my love for Santiago) the only city we’ve visited in South America to win this designation. My criteria to qualify for a “wow” city is inexact, but is felt immediately. I felt it my first days in NYC and Hong Kong walking around and felt the same way in Buenos Aires. It’s a combination of awe and comfort on the part of a visitor. I liken it to how Disney wants to make you feel when exploring that “cultures of the World” part of Epcot. The irony is that, according to Sue and Jung Eun, the city is actually European. I’ve never been to Europe, but I felt this, too, and read a lot about how Buenos Aires residents (but not the rest of Argentina) think of themselves as more cultured and cultivated than the rest of the continent and therefore, more “European.” The infrastructure in place and city planning was top notch, despite the economy being in the dump. Lucky us!

The food did not disappoint. I am a fat man and the food and drink in the city, along with its value, won me over repeatedly. The wine wasn’t as good as Chile, but he Malbec we did have was excellent and inexpensive. The markets seemed good, too, but we didn’t frequent them as much as in Chile. The reason: The ridiculous value to be found in restaurants. We ate out lots and paid less than anywhere else for gourmet level food and lots of it. Buffets, Italian food, steaks . . . it was all good and all cheap. Paradise.

Artistically and culturally, I found the city to be the best I’ve ever lived in or visited.I know that you’re thinking, “Wait, Dan. You lived in new York City, renowned as one of the greatest (if not the greatest) artistic city in the world. How can you even compare Buenos Aires to NYC?” You read correctly , but I will say it again, “BUENOS AIRES SURPASSES NYC ARTISTICALLY AND CULTURALLY” and it is for one specific reason: accessibility. In one day we saw an amazing musical in the national theatre called Pepino El 88 (at least it seemed amazing, being completely in Spanish) staged and performed immaculately after an excellent matinee dance performance (and I don’t like dance) in another national theatre down the street all for a total of $5 total for both performances. NYC has great art and culture, but, I know of no way for anyone to see the nation’s best performers for so little. We also checked out a tango show that was ok, but devolved into bad dinner theatre. I won’t hold that against the city when the Phantom of the Opera has filled the house regularly in NYC.

The architecture, design, skill apparent in La Boca, Japanese Gardens, Recoleta, etc.
We saw so much more that I haven’t gone into detail about. Needless to say, everywhere we visited felt vital and wow-inducing. We visited the birthplace of the tango, a soccer stadium in the working class part of town with so much natural character and obvious fanaticism surrounding it that (dare I say) makes Cleveland Browns stadium look like Disneyland (All together . . . “Don’t forget what Muni Stadium used to be like Dan! You’re going to make your grandfather roll over in his grave.”), an amazing local art center and grandiose cemetery in Recolletta, and wandered other various parks, green spaces, harbors, and other places you all should see.

This message sponsored by the Tourism Ministry of Buenos Aires.



“I think I’m pregnant” or welcome to Brazil.

We all felt pregnant in Brazil, though none of us actually are (sorry, Mom) due to the copious amounts of amazing beef, sushi, kimchi and other delicious Korean and Brazilian food we sampled in Sao Paolo, home to Sue and Jung-Eun’s extended family for the past 20 or so years. I wish I could accurately explain how exactly Sue and Jung-Eun are related to them, but the fact that Koreans call any relative of their parents’ generation Aunt/Uncle, any relative of their grandparents’ generation Grandma/Grandpa, and anyone closer to their own a variation of cousin, I really have no way of conveying the relationship between Sue and these relatives. The important thing is that they were amazing hosts and that the 10 lbs I had lost prior to arriving have now been gained back. I wish I could say more for Sao Paolo, but we spent our days escorted from restaurant to restaurant by family. No complaints here, as the food was great and Sao Paolo isn’t supposed to be that cosmopolitan anyway.

We did make one jaunt to Guaruja from Sao Paolo and saw a great beach and drank great coffee and ate more great food. Mmm. This was all excellent prep for Buzios.

Buzios is where my friend Keith (from Korea) and his girlfriend Clarisse (from Brazil) just opened up the Yellow Stripe Hostel this month. Keith was unfortunately unable to be in Buzios to put the finishing touches on the hostel before the opening (he was called to Canada and will be back at the beginning of October), but Clarisse has done an amazing jobs finishing up decorating and getting things up and running. The hostel is almost completely remodeled and put to shame almost every other hostel we’ve stayed in, which all were nice themselves. Sue, Jung-Eun and I all agreed that the hostel is the best we’ve stayed in up till now. Check it out at yellowstripehostel.blogspot.com.

The hostel (as great as it was), despite being our initial impetus for going to Buzios, wasn’t even the best thing about the city. The city, set on a peninsula jutting into the Atlantic, is not a city at all, but rather a set of several small villages. It feels like a small country town that happens to house getaways for the rich and famous along its beaches and seaside walkways. It has boutique shopping and little restaurants and bars, but it all seems to mesh with the more quotidian town further inland. Its somehow swanky without being pretentious or haughty. Call it down home elegance. The beaches and temperature also happened to be fantastic for lounging, swimming, and jogging (which I did for the 1st time all trip and miss immensely). The combination of all this helped make our 2 days there among our best in South America.

Speaking of hostels, in discussing our hostel experiences in South America, we decided on the following rankings:

1. Yellow Stripe Hostel-Buzios, Brazil

Keith and Clarisse have outdone themselves here, as described above

2. Hostel Bambu-Foz de Iguacu, BrazilGreat staff, relaxed vibe, plus they had a party to celebrate our arrival (not really, but there was a great party here the night we stayed). Beds were comfy, facilities are nice, quiet enough. More on this below.

3. Hostel Arrabal (sp?)- Buenos Aires, Argentina

We stayed in this hostel the longest and got to feeling right at home, thanks to the manager/owner (?) Raul. The hostel was maintained fantastically and the beds were comfy. Only (minor) complaints are the loud noise outside and the corking fee for bringing your own alcohol to drink in the hostel. Still, highly recommended.

4. Hostel Plaza de Armas (sp?)-Chile, Santiago

The best looking of all the hostels (wood floors throughout, nice furniture, great views, in a beautifully preserved historic building) we stayed in and the best value when taking into account the excellent kitchen that allowed us to self-cater on a regular basis. Also great for lounging about at night with a few bottles of fantastic Chilean wine due to no corking fee. Excellent location in the middle of Santiago. Complaints: 1) No ceilings in the dorms so it was quite loud 2) The beds were not comfortable.

5. Hostel Cathedrale (sp?)-Mexico City, MexicoThe first hostel we stayed in, and therefore the most likely to be inaccurately assessed. Still, no big problems here. Excellent location in the center of Mexico City. Friendly staff. No big issues. Didn’t make a big impression (I honestly don’t remember it that well). Still, recommended.

6. Hostel Loki-Cusco, LimaDecent hostel, but had a big party vibe. Made me feel old and like I didn’t belong in a hostel. Cold, dank, and dark rooms. Nice old building, but not for a hostel. Good staff. Located at the top of a big hill in a city at 3000+ m. Not bad, but we might have been able to find better. Lots of Brits. Good for learning cockney.

All of the above hostels are good. I would recommend them all. This is not the case with the hostel below.

7. Lighthouse Hostel-Rio, Brazil (Ipanema)The most expensive hostel we stayed in and the worst. Located in a hostel row of sorts, the hostel was loud, full of bugs, not particularly clean, and cost 50% more than any other hostel we’ve stayed in! Weak.

Speaking of Rio, perhaps I’m burnt out by South America, but the first word that comes to mind is overrated. We only had one day there, the weather wasn’t particularly good, and (as mentioned above) the hostel was bad, so that might have colored out perception. Still, Christ the Redeemer was great, sitting on Ipanema Beach staring at and listening to the rough surf reminded me why I want to live near a beach, and the city itself does have an energy you can’t deny.

Now, on a 22 hr bus ride to Foz de Iguacu. Woo hoo! I’ll still sleep better than the hostel last night.



Several days later . . .

Foz do Iguacu in a steel cage match versus Niagara Falls! Who will survive?

My money’s on Foz do Iguacu. I’m sitting in Hostel Bambu with no internet (whenever this does get posted, my excuse for 2 weeks of no posts will be lack of connectivity in Brazil) typing up my impressions of this charming big city that feels like a small town. I’m going to frame my impressions around the philosophical debate Sue/Jung-Eun and I have been having about the mission of our trip. I have chosen to sit on my butt, reading, writing, and wandering to the bank and the supermarket while Sue and Jung-Eun go back to see Iguacu Falls for a second day, this day from a different perspective from the Brazilian side after a day on the Argentinian side yesterday. The falls are, inarguably, amazing, and I understand why the ladies are back to see them again. Split between Argentina and Brazil, a series of falls of various sizes stemming from the 2km wide Iguacu River dot the national park leading to the gigantic Devil’s Falls (the 2nd largest in the world) and make for one hell of a view (and a shower if you take the boat into them as we did). At the same time, we saw the exact same falls yesterday (albeit from a different perspective and I haven’t sat on my butt on a Sunday in a month. Sitting on my butt affords me the time to consider our travels and recollect my impressions/feelings about the trip/life. This is the most important part of travel, in my humble opinion. I especially need this time on this particular trip because Sue and Jung-Eun generally move at a breakneck pace from site to site and city to city. This creates stress for me and doesn’t give me adequate time to enjoy the trip because my enjoyment actually takes place during the downtime, the time spent having a drink/cup of coffee, sitting in a park, or sitting on my ass in the morning having a leisurely breakfast/cup of coffee and thinking about what we’re doing. This is not the case for Sue and Jung-Eun, who see downtime as wasted time and get stressed out by the idea that they are not using every possible moment to take in what a particular place has to offer. They apparently can do the equivalent of chew gum and walk at the same time in seeing sites and reflecting on them, while I’m a little bit slow and tend to trip over my mind when asked to do the same. So, while Sue and Jung-Eun are making the most of their time here and seeing what I’m sure is an amazing view of the gigantic and panoramic Iguacu Falls, I’m relaxed and getting to experience what this sleepy little big city feels like on a lazy Sunday morning. Whose side are you on?


A word on language . . .Seeing as how I’m an English major and ESL teacher, I should probably address our experiences with language while here in South America. Here goes.

I came to South America equipped with English as my first language, a decent grasp of Korean on a spoken level, 8 years of French (with a weakness in speaking and listening and strength in reading), 4 years of Latin ( Latin Club President say what!), completely in a reading and writing context, and 1 quarter of Spanish in 6th grade supplemented by teaching many Spanish speaking students in the Bronx for the past 2 years.

Sue came with Korean as her first language, a high level of English proficiency in all facets, a few years of French and several years of German.

Jung-Eun came with Korean as her first language, excellent English listening and competent spoken English.

Oddly, I somehow became the lead in the Spanish speaking countries and managed to do ok. My French, Latin, and English all helped my reading and hearing my kids speak Spanish so much in the Bronx made my listening ok. I was generally (amazingly) able to make meaning of language close enough to the intended idea to get by. I tried to use the basics of Spanish while speaking, but usually lapsed into Spanish.

Sue approached everyone in English, assuming that people spoke some English (which they generally did) and was able to do ok. An interesting twist was when they people understood her English perfectly, but responded only in simple Spanish, which we were generally able to decipher.

Jung-Eun used both Spanish and English and was able to get by well. We were almost always together and therefore helped one another. No situation was non-navigable with repeated linguistic attempts. At least until we got to Brazil.

In Brazil, several issues arose:We spent several days with Sue’s family, whom spoke Korean and Portuguese. This was good for Sue and Jung-Eun, and not so good for me. Listening to her aunt and uncle speak in Korean and understanding maybe 5%, I felt I would never master a language that I had been immersed in for 3+ years. The lowpoint came while watching a Korean drama on TV at their house with Portuguese subtitles and using the Portuguese subtitles to help me understand what was going on. Bear in mind that I have never studied Portuguese and the simple fact that it is a romance language with much vocabulary based in Latin and French helped me to use it as a guide. I will now hang my head in shame.

Because we were going to be spending most of our time in Spanish speaking countries, we chose to focus on Spanish and none of us bothered to learn any Portuguese. This made simple things like saying “hello” or “where is the bathroom” or “sorry” in Portuguese a problem. This reached its zenith when, on our 22 hour bus trip, an old lady left the bust to use the bathroom at a stop and the bus departed without her. Sue and Jung-Eun repeatedly tried to explain to the driver that the woman was in the bathroom at the station as the bus drove away in English, gestures, and yells, but that only lead the driver to understand that someone had left their luggage, not that someone was being left behind. The poor old lady ended up stranded (we think), unless she was supposed to have left her luggage behind.

Our experiences have lead me to believe that, with some intensive study, I could learn Spanish. I might pursue this in Korea, especially if we do decide to come back and maybe live in Chile or Argentina (wink, wink). Seeing the great performances in the musical and the beauty of the Spanish language makes me want to understand what exactly they were saying rather than just hearing the sound sand guessing the meaning.

The day I decided to move to Santiago . . .

Day 1

Concha y toro tour

Jumbo Supermarket

Pio Nono

Providencia-Las Condes

When your day starts with a wine tour of one of the best wineries in the country you’re staying and maybe one of the best in the world, it’s probably going to be a good day. When you get to drink the equivalent of about 2 bottles of some of their best wine with a cheese accompaniment for a total of $55 (his was for all 3 of us) before 2 in the afternoon, it’s getting dangerously close to utopian terms. When this is followed up by a trip to a giant supermarket with an amazing selection of wine, cheese, vegetables, seafood, and other tantalizing goods, all for a very reasonable price, it’s time to consider a lifestyle change. And when all of this is taking place in a city flanked by 5000m snow-capped peaks of the Andes on one side, and the Pacific Ocean only 90 minutes away, and dotted by old colonial architecture mixed in with daring modern design, it’s time to consider taking Spanish lessons while in Korea and moving to Santiago at some point in your life.

Other great things about the day included all the punk as fuck/metal kids we saw about town. One of them, while drunk, even walked up to me and slapped me on the back while yelling “Gringo! Gringo! GRINGO!” to try to get a laugh from those sitting outdoors drinking beer nearby.

The whole place is strangely reminiscent of Korea. I can’t quite place why, but Sue and Jung-Eun agree. The cost of living seems to be fairly similar and some of the same Eastern Bloc style architecture is also occasionally seen. It’s better because of the mixing in of nicer architecture and also the more cosmopolitan feel. Maybe I just like both and therefore equate them. Or maybe I just love emerging economies.

I learned a ton on the wine tour. I learned about how American and French oak age wine differently. I learned how the “aromas” we smell in wine are generally false and based on familiarity. I learned that Carmenere, the wine that Chile is famous for, was thought to be merlot when originally imported from France over 100 years ago, but that a Frenchman visiting the winery in 1994 revealed that it was actually Carmenere, and this was a huge stroke of good luck because a plague had wiped out that grape worldwide save for here in Chile, Cyprus, and South Korea (!?). This lead to the thriving of the Chilean wine industry, and specifically the winery we visited, Concha y Toro.

Day 2

Santa Lucia

San Cristobal (Virgin)

Parque Forestal

La Chascona

Day 3

Valparaiso

Playa San Mateo

Caleta El Membrillo

Sebastiana

Museo a Cielo Abierto

Caro Santo Domingo y Concepcion

These past 2 days have further reminded me that Santiago is a great city, and that, yes, I would like to live here. If that happens remains to be seen, but the city itself (and its neighbor to the west, Valpairaso) have had a great effect on me.

The amount of parks and outdoor space here is fantastic. We spent our second day exploring these outdoor spaces by climbing Santa Lucia, an old fortress and church in the middle of the city on top of a hill. It was built by the Spanish to protect it from the native invaders and has something to do with Charles Darwin. I was a little “tired” from all the fantastic wine we drank the night before while exploring this place, so forgive my lack of info. We also climbed an even bigger hill to get to San Cristobel, where a statue of the Virgin Mary stands, overlooking the city. It was fairly busy ( we went on Saturday), but still had a great deal of charm, and the view of the city was great, although we were reminded of the pollution by the sheet of smog covering the city.

We also had a chance to explore 2 of Pablo Neruda’s houses while in Chile, one on Santiago and one in Valpairaso. I don’t want to bore anyone with a lesson on Neruda’s life, but, as a poet, consul, politician, and reformer born in poverty, he lived well. It was interesting to learn about how his life was so closely related to many important events in Chilean history and to see his bizarre and playful style (he loved boats so all his houses are designed with boat parts and narrow passages) in his houses. I’m going to seek out some more info on him, but for now, I’ll say that if you ever make it Chile, make it a point to visit one or more of his houses.

Yesterday, we took a day trip to Valpairaso and got a chance to explore this very unique city. The city is built from the seashore up onto the hills rising next to it. This makes for fantastic natural geography mixed with inventive architecture. It’s almost as if 2 separate cities exist, one on the water, and one in the hills, with both connected by a beautiful view of the sea. The part of the city in the hills (including Concepcion and Santo Domingo) is considered a UNESCO world heritage site, and it’s no wonder due to the bright, almost Creole architecture. The area also feels very friendly, with a huge number of the cities’ inhabitants (of all backgrounds) living high into the hills. Near the water, we had a chance to sample Congria (Conger eel) along with mixed ceviche and neither disappointed. Overall, a great city that has to be visited if you’re in Chile.

The day ended with disappointment as the Browns looked like crap again, but at least I got to watch it on TV here. I can drown my sorrows in Malbec wine and beef once we hit Buenos Aires. We’re off later this afternoon.

“It really whooped a llama’s ass”

(I find it sad that while thinking about how to describe our 4 days on the Inka Trail and our time at Machu Picchu, I was excited most by the prospect of quoting the great Wesley Willis. Now that that’s done with, I can get onto talking about why the Inka Trail did indeed “whoop a llama’s ass.”)

Sue, Jung-Eun, and I just got back from our 4 day, 3 night trek along the Inka Trail to Machu Picchu. We made it up to 4200 m (I think around 12000 feet), we adapted to the altitude and elements pretty well, we met some great people, Sue and Jung-Eun developed into kick ass trekkers before my eyes, and I had my notion of what travel is re-configured (slightly) again.

1^st off, the animals (including of course, the llamas). As we hiked up several thousand feet, the amount of animals walking down the trail with their handlers was uncountable. Most were donkeys, but we did catch a few llamas walking by. The waste left in their wake(and our avoidance of it) also made our trek a little more interesting. I don’t think of myself as an animal person, but watching donkeys, cows, chickens and dogs wander about as we set up camp our first night, with the mountain Salkantay in the background (5000+ m) evoked the word paradise for me. It’s melodramatic to use a word like that, but seeing how harmoniously everything meshed was life-affirming. It warmed the cockles of my heart, even if I was awoken several times by a donkey grazing just outside our tent in the night. Upon reaching Machu Picchu, one of the best things I saw were llamas grazing throughout the grounds, being used as natural lawn mowers. Our guide told us that they used to use lawn mowers, but they were too loud. Instead, they went old school, llama style. Perfect.

We met a lot of great people, but only got to know 3 of them well: David, Efrat, and Simon. David and Efrat are a couple on holiday in Peru for a month who were the only other trekkers in our group. This made things cozy, and luckily, we all got a long great and hiked at close to the same pace. It could have been hell if the other 2 trekkers were as loud and obnoxious as some of the people in other groups, but David and Efrat were about as perfect companions for trekking as one could hope for: swift, yet not in a hurry, drole, but not over the top, up for anything, but not excessive. It was a pleasure trekking with them, and they even invited us to visit them in Amsterdam while we’re in Europe. Simon, our guide, was as knowledgeable as could be hoped for, but with a dash of showmanship thrown in. After dinner one night, he proceeded to tell us the first campfire story I’ve heard since I was 8 or 9. He talked about mysteries of the Inkas, (like the possibility of a lost city of the Inkas somewhere hidden in the jungle), and it was all like something out of Indiana Jones. It was invigorating for me, and as I told Sue, further added to the newness of the trip. By newness, I mean that I saw things and heard things that I hadn’t ever thought about or anticipated. It was like discovering another planet or something. Like learning a new letter in cursive or hearing about killer bees as a kid or when I watched a GI Joe episode about diseases spread by mosquitoes. Scary and life-affirming all at once. It was like that, watching this very passionate guy tells us tall tales that he believed, and that through his passion, made me want to believe.

(Simon has also had an amazing life. His parents gave him up to a convent to be raised because they couldn’t afford to raise him and he therefore grew up apart from his 8 siblings and family. He learned Latin, Italian, English, Spanish, and his native language, then was studying to become a priest before re-considering because he wanted to be able to support his family. Now he teaches at a Catholic school, does tours several times a month, is a devout Catholic, and yet showed us all of the “pagan” rituals of the Inkas without the slightest hesitation or sense that he was betraying his Catholic faith.)

You may be wondering how all the equipment for camping and eating finds its way up into altitudes of 4200m. How did we eat 3 square meals a day cooked fresh and have tea time once a day, all at a metal table while sitting on stools? That is all thanks to the porters. While my 6’3, 220lb. frame was panting and sweating my 15kg backpack, porters of 5’6, 150 pounds were rolling past me carrying up to 40kg of supplies. The government limits them to 20kg and our company gave them insurance in case of injury, but other companies bribe officials so that their porters can haul 40+ kg. Some days we went up as much as 1200m, meaning these men hauled their own weight + 40 kg. Sue was horrified by the whole thing, wanting it to be stopped, but I was conflicted. Sure it’s f-ed up, but mustn’t this be a decent job if so many men were doing it? Its sort of how I look at Nike paying someone in Indonesia a couple bucks a day to make shoes. That’s terrible in the US, but it’s a good wage and opportunity in Indonesia. Same thing for couriers in Peru. But, all the equipment did at times seem excessive. And personal couriers (whom we didn’t hire) are too much.

After the trek, perhaps due in part to exhaustion, Machu Picchu was somehow a disappointment. We woke up at 4 AM to hike from our last campsite to the sungate overlooking Machu Picchu in the hopes of getting a glimpse of the sunrise bathing the city in light (alas, it was too cloudy) and I was pretty well-done from the previous 3 days of hiking, but I don’t know that I would have enjoyed it even if I had taken the train up to the site (as most tourists do) after a good night’s sleep. As I blabbed to David later on the train back, I think that, jumping off from my few hours of Foucault study, the simulacra surpassed the reality. For those of you who aren’t hoity-toity English majors, this basically means that seeing Machu Picchu in movies, books, National Geographic specials, etc. made it familiar to me. I was aware of how amazing and seemingly impossible it was before ever setting foot there, and that made it a letdown. Unless it was something completely different from what I expected (like my experience at the Grand Canyon 6 years ago), it was bound to disappoint. The best comparison would be watching a trailer for a comedy with all the really funny parts in it, then getting excited to see the movie based on the trailer, only to see the movie and find that everything that was funny in the movie, you had already seen. So, yeah, that’s Machu Picchu.

The Inka Trail, on the other hand, contained so many completely unexpected experiences, visually, physically, intra and interpersonally, that it re-aligned my views of the world. And that’s the point of travel. So, I’ve realized that I want travel to sneak up on me, to blindfold me and then reveal moments like llama’s as lawnmowers or solitary trees that are more majestic than man’s greatest architectural achievements. Or maybe I’m just turning into a tree hugging hippie.

"The supremely entertaining Eat, Pray, Love-a mid-thirties memoir by the endlessly talented Elizabeth Gilbert-is not just for the ladies, fellas." GQ

I misread the above review at first as reading “ . . . is just for the ladies, fellas.” I was reading it and enjoying it anyway, but now I feel less emasculated. The other book I’ve read is Chuck Klosterman’s Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs. This is all to serve as a disclaimer of sorts, incase my perspective/writing style has taken on any characteristics of either writer.

I’ve been reading a lot while staying in hostels, which has been a big reminder of how lame I am. I don’t like meeting new people in a hostel type setting (much like I didn’t like meeting new people in a dorm type setting) and so have been sitting in the lounge or room reading or working on the blog. I feel more productive, but also a bit depressed by the fact that I am not a “people person.” I was telling Sue that the reason we weren’t mingling was because we were “old.” She reminded me that I am around 5 years older than a lot of the student travelers we’re coming across and that shouldn’t be a big deal. I must concede that she’s right and that even if I was 20, I would still feel uncomfortable. Then again, meeting travel-minded folks in Korea never put me off. Maybe because most of them were older or we worked together?

A reason I haven’t been hanging with Sue and Jung-Eun is because I hung around the hostel nursing my sunburn yesterday while they explored the city. This backfired for them as they know have altitude sickness, a common effect of traveling this high (we’re at something like 3500m). We’ve all been drinking coca tea, which is supposed to alleviate the effects and I feel ok, but they are pretty much out of commission. Hopefully they’re ready to go for tomorrow, when we head of on the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu. I don’t want to jinx anything, but I have high expectations for this trek.

Sue says that Cusco is one of the most beautiful cities she’s ever seen. It looks pretty from the hostel window, but that’s all I can vouch for. Won’t be posting for a while as we’ll be out on the trail for 4 days. Hope everyone is well.

Staring at the sea, Staring at the sand, Staring down myself, Reflected in the eyes of the dead [sea lion] on the beach . . .

Daytrip
Ballestras Island
Baracas
Baracas Nacional Park

Note: I'm still several days behind on blogging and I think that this will continue. Because I'm in a hostel with good internet access there's going to be a lot of posting to catch up. Ignore the dates. Also, pictures will hopefully be uploaded to this and previous posts soon.


Got out of Lima for a day. Getting out of the smog of Lima was pleasant in and of itself, but the destination was fantastic as well.

We started off by taking a boat tour to Ballestras Island, which is a kind fo mini-Galapogos. We saw penguins, sea lions, various birds, and lots of complicated rock formations. You may be sensing my lack of enthusiasm. This is because I've gone on several similar trips in Korea, sans animals. It was nice, but that's about all.

The really interesting part was seeing a giant candelabra carved into the side of the peninsula as we rode out. it's been around for 2000 years and nobody knows why or how it was carved. it's best seen from the sky. Use your imaginations about the significance of that. (Note: There are similar carvings all over the area.)

The highlight of the trip, by far, was Baracas Nacional Park along the Baracas peninsula. The whole park used to be underwater, but now has a slight sand covering, making it appear to be a desert with monumental dunes. It's also very hot. On the edge of this "desert" is the Pacific Ocean at its most blue. The whole park is desolate in the best way possible and felt completely otherwordly. Walking around, I couldn't help but feel that there is no place else on earth like this place and I never could have guessed that a place like it even existed. The combination of empty beaches, cool and blue water, and the "dunes" as a backdrop made me remember why I travel. Walking along the beach, getting burned by the bright sun (I am peeling and leaking fluid now, hooray!), seeing no signs of human life, and finding only the head of a dead sea lion washed up on shore allowed me to (wait for it) be comforted by my own insignificance. (Note: Here's where those of you who can't handle swillish existential ramblings will want to skip ahead.)

This has happened twice before while travelling. Once, while hiking halfway down the Grand Canyon alone and sitting on the edge of the plateau over the Colorado River. I felt completely alone and meaningless, and that made me feel in control of life more than I'd ever felt before. The other time was while traveling with Gabel and Mores to Dok Jeok Do, an island to the west of Korea. We went there a week or two before tourist season and nearly couldn't find a place to stay. We ended up staying in a minbak (a very basic lodging usually in someone's house) and ate a simple meal cooked by the owner of the house. This was not what we had in mind upon arrival and we were a little disappointed. To drown our sorrows, we sat in the minbak (on the floor, no chairs or bed) drinking beer and soju and acting how we act when we drink too much. We got a little stir crazy and decided to explore the island for no real reason on "borrowed" bikes. Mindlessly drunken, we founf our way to the shore to find that there was no water. The tide had gone completely out and we walked what felt like halfway into the sea, wondering what was going on and why nobody else had noticed. Our minds returned after a lot of "Holy Shits, what the hell is going on" and "I hope the tide doesn't come back in too fast or we'll drown" and I think we actually STFU for a few minutes to take it all in. This might be selective memory, but I remember feeling an awe similar to how I felt sitting over the Colorado River.

A combination of these two feelings is how I felt at Baracas Nacional Park. The feeling completely snuck up on me and that made it all the more memorable. I think we haven't given ourselves enough chances to experience these moments so far because we've been so concerned with seeing as much as possible and experiencing as much as possible that we haven't really taken the time to really experience much at all. Re-reading the blog so far, there are a lot of factoids and impressions, but very little real connection to the trip. To me, the whole reason for traveling is to connect, to change, to re-evaluate. Hell, if we end up changing our minds about the months of plans we've made for when we go back to Korea because of this trip, so be it. I know that I want to really experience (I know I sound like a hippie) this trip and have parts of it resonate the way that the Grand Canyon and Dok Jeok Do have for me.

Note: I think the Nacional Park also will resonate because we had a great tourguide, Jose, who spoke very little Spanish. I was amazed that we found a way to communicate via a rudimentary phrase book and my limited memories of 6th grade Spanish. Mores, you were right, language has worked itself out.

Asked a gas station employee if he ever had trouble breathing. He said, "It varies from season to season here" . . .

No itinerary, as we didn’t get out much in Lima besides Miraflores and the Centro Lima.

My friend Jocelyn, who travelled South America for several months recently, described Lima as “a hole” and was adamant that we spend as little time as possible there. This was after we had booked all of our flights, with 3 days in Lima, and couldn’t change the itinerary. We ended up getting out of town one day, and while the city wasn’t great, it wasn’t a hole. The pollution and weather was terrible (it’s known as “the grey city”), and the city was nothing more than a generic big city, but our hosts, Evan and Bertina, along with the seashore, made things ok.

Evan, an acquaintance of my sister’s from her Democratic National Committee work in Portland, was kind enough to host us. He didn’t seem to mind the weather so much, but then he’s from Portland. He and his roommate, Bertina, were great company and hopefully we reciprocated. They both work on a series of websites in Lima and I learned a lot about the wonder plant macca and its effects on women with menopause and the beauty of teatime and why it is perfectly natural to serve your dog English breakfast tea everyday as part of teatime.

The fact that I lost my debit card and was stricken with my first bout of stomach problems colored my opinion of Lima as well. I don’t know if Mexico City or LAN Peru Airlines is to blame because the stomach problems kicked in my first day in Lima, but warn all to be careful. Before you ask, of course I didn’t drink the water.

Overall impressions of Lima:

Miraflores, where we stayed, is the richest part of Lima and as safe as anywhere. It’s decent enough to walk around. The main draw is the oceanfront, which is the one top notch memorable part of Lima.

We explored Centro Lima, and while charming, found it to be a typical colonial city on par with most in the Caribbean. The choking pollution will be our lasting memory, and for this reason, I recommend going at night when there’s less traffic.

Food was ok. Best value (and maybe just best food) was found in the bakeries where fresh pastries and empanadas could be found for between 30-75 cents each.

I've heard of sad clowns. What about sad mariachis?

Days 4 and 5
Coyoacan
San Angel
Dinner with Rafa and Don Julio
Plaza Garibaldi
Mercado de la Merced
Xochimilco

Went to Coyoacan and San Angel (suburbs of Mexico CIty) on Saturday the 30^th. Saw an art market, Frida Kahlo’s house, and walked around. Pleasant suburbs. Added to the overall positive experience in Mexico City, but nothing mind-blowing. (Note: Mexico City is not as cheap as I had believed. I suppose this is a good thing, as it means that the overall economic well-being of the country is on the upswing. For us as travelers, however, not so much.

Rafa was an excellent host again, going with us to a “tequila dinner.” For those of you that were in Korea with me, this was somewhat similar to going to a bar, drinking soju and being served multiple side dishes to reduce the effects of the alcohol. The tequila dinner was on a much larger scale, as there were 3 courses of 4 entrees each (12 dishes total!) for 4 of us. The cornucopia of food plus the high quality tequila (Don Julio, I bow before you) made for a manageable hangover the next day.

Before heading back to our hostel, we went to Plaza Garibaldi. Every weekend, mariachis from around the city gather here and wait to be paid to play for couples who come specifically to hear them. This made for what first appeared to be riotous atmosphere. Upon closer look, we noticed that far too many mariachi were either sitting around, looking hopelessly for customers, or hustling for rides from people. This was a downer for me. I had always thought of mariachis as full of positive energy. It was sort of like walking backstage. (Note: This was later in the evening, so perhaps it was better earlier in the evening).

Next morning we went to the largest market in Latin America (I think), Mercado de la Merced. This was too much for me (maybe the hangover was stronger than I first thought). It was insanely loud and crowded and the hookers and their patrons swirling around the market didn’t help.

We then headed down to Xochimilco, the only remnant of the canal system that once crossed Mexico. The canals were apparently dried out by the Spanish several hundred years ago and it’s screwed with the environment of Mexico ever since (can this be blamed for the pollution?). Now, you can head 28 km out of central Mexico and hop on a boat, ride around the canals, buy food and beverages from vendor boats and generally enjoy the water. It was also nice that the name of our boat was the Princess Diana. Yes, we did survive.

Overall, Mexico City was a great place to start the trip and has set the bar high for the rest of the trip.