If I died tomorrow, nobody can say I didn't try to live. I've been to my 5th continent. Antarctica is going to be a bitch, but I'm sure I knock out 6 in my lifetime. Just got back from Peru yesterday. I enjoy writing and I enjoy showing my family and friends what I'm up to. I'm going to write a few little 'blogs.' Read them if you want. Look at the pretty pictures or say 'who the hell is this Adrian guy?'
Last year, my girlfriend Sarah went to Peru to see a good friend of hers. When she came back, she brought back some amazing pictures. It just so happened I came across an article in the NY Times travel section about this recently found Incan city that rivaled Machu Picchu. My interest was sparked. It's been awhile since I've been somewhere 'exotic'. Long story short, got a group together, Sarah, the roommate Josh and good pal Sean, and headed off to South America.
We left on a Thursday afternoon. It was a long couple of flights to Lima. We spent a few hours over night in the Lima airport, part of which was spent sleeping on the food court floor to the amusement of the locals. We hopped a short flight to Cusco, the former Incan capital and the jump off point for most tourists traveling Peru.
Sarah had told me about the flight in to Cusco. It was pretty dramatic. Green Andean mountains and a fog nestled the city as we touched down mid morning. A band played traditional Peruvian music near the baggage claim. They were probably paid to be there and were selling CDs, but the effect was not completely lost on me.
I quickly looked through my brain for the Spanish I had left back there from my roofing days as I tried to negotiate with a taxi driver for a ride to our hostel. I, being from DC, thought we got a good deal at 3 bucks a person. I was soon to find out we grossly overpaid. And the little bastard didn't even take us to our hostel. He dropped us at the bottom of the hill near it. We loaded our backpacks and trudged up the hill. The 11,200 feet of altitude and lack of sleep quickly caught up to me as I climbed the hill. We made it panting to our hostel, a former villa turned backpackers haven.
After settling into our room, I went the bar to have some coca tea – a staple of the locals, perfectly legal and apparently a cure all for altitude. The bar area looked over the city – a million-dollar view and a price of a few cents.
We wanted to walk into town. No nap for our troopin' butts. Sleep shouldn't get in the way of l-i-v-i-n. A stroll into town quickly turned into a trudge up a couple of the hills which surround the city as Sarah showed us some of her recollections.
After being to both Afghanistan and Cusco, I've discovered that the 3rd world has a smell. A mixture of open sewers and burning embers. Not an overpowering smell, but I was brought back to Afghanistan in certain neighborhoods the way a baby food brings back childhood memories to a full-grown man.
Lots of stray dogs too. Mangy but not hungry. Not sure how the system works, but the dogs were fed if not totally washed. And while it felt 3rd world and was incredibly cheap, there were few beggars and everyone seemed happy. Genuinely happy and quick to return an 'hola' or 'buenas dias'.
Our little impromptu trek led us to the Christo Blanco – or Buddy Jesus as he became affectionately known to the group. Our trek back to town led us passed a tiny, 5-table restaurant that we dipped into. We apparently took the owners off guard. We placed our orders somewhat blindly. The grandma cooked our meals in a nearby kitchen as we sipped on semi warm bottles of Peruvian beer. We got to know 2 very well. Not much of an import beer business in Peru. The meal turned out to be delicious. I was lucky and ended up with a rack of lamb. The total for a full meal and a large beer? About 10 Soles… or 3 bucks. It was a good welcome to South America.
The next day we headed out to an Incan museum. We then wandered to a local market. Tourists were few inside where teeming stalls were filled with local goods, spices, foods and meals. We passed a vendor selling tamales. A good snack. I enjoy trying new things so after walking awhile longer I walked up to a lady at a stall, pointed to her sign and had a seat. She smiled, and went to work on her one-element stove. Turned out to be a red meat covered in a tomato-based sauce served with rice and veggies. I'm Catholic so I gave the sign of the cross to Sarah's and my stomach and dug in. It was good and a total of 4 soles. About a buck thirty. As we were eating we looked over at another vendor who was selling drinks of various sorts. We wondered what they were, some looking pretty… ripe. We would find out in a few days.
After lunch we tried to find our way through the busy streets to an artisan market. Traffic in Peru is interesting. There are few lights and even fewer signs. A simple honk and a nose in front decide the right of way. We managed to not become a traffic statistic along the way. My friend Josh, however, became a Caucasian statistic. Josh's background is of the fairest complexion. While the Scottish and Irish he is descended from did fine in their homelands with lighter skin, 2 miles up in the Andes does not a happy skinned Josh make. By the time we made it to the market, the poor fella was toast. One of the man's many run ins with nature on the trip.
The market was fun. Lots of haggling. I managed an Alpaca sweater and a couple of hats for a few bucks. My Spanish came back with a fury as I would spend 5 minutes haggling with a local over 3 soles. I would usually get my way. Though, walking away it would hit me – I just stuck to my guns over a nice hand-made sweater that cost me about $10. She wanted $10.30. Capitalist pig.
After dinner we headed back to our hostel to get some sleep for our 4-day trek the next day. When I booked the hostel, I looked online at several hostels and their reviews. This one was considered a 'party' hostel, but not the rowdiest. I wanted to have a good time. And it was indeed. However, our room just so happened to be directly under the bar… and it was Saturday… and 80's night.
Aha's 'Take on Me' thumped over my head at 2 a.m. I had to be up in a few hours to hike over a couple mountains. Shit.
NEXT TIME – hills, valleys and rocks! Oh my!
Last year, my girlfriend Sarah went to Peru to see a good friend of hers. When she came back, she brought back some amazing pictures. It just so happened I came across an article in the NY Times travel section about this recently found Incan city that rivaled Machu Picchu. My interest was sparked. It's been awhile since I've been somewhere 'exotic'. Long story short, got a group together, Sarah, the roommate Josh and good pal Sean, and headed off to South America.
We left on a Thursday afternoon. It was a long couple of flights to Lima. We spent a few hours over night in the Lima airport, part of which was spent sleeping on the food court floor to the amusement of the locals. We hopped a short flight to Cusco, the former Incan capital and the jump off point for most tourists traveling Peru.
Sarah had told me about the flight in to Cusco. It was pretty dramatic. Green Andean mountains and a fog nestled the city as we touched down mid morning. A band played traditional Peruvian music near the baggage claim. They were probably paid to be there and were selling CDs, but the effect was not completely lost on me.
I quickly looked through my brain for the Spanish I had left back there from my roofing days as I tried to negotiate with a taxi driver for a ride to our hostel. I, being from DC, thought we got a good deal at 3 bucks a person. I was soon to find out we grossly overpaid. And the little bastard didn't even take us to our hostel. He dropped us at the bottom of the hill near it. We loaded our backpacks and trudged up the hill. The 11,200 feet of altitude and lack of sleep quickly caught up to me as I climbed the hill. We made it panting to our hostel, a former villa turned backpackers haven.
After settling into our room, I went the bar to have some coca tea – a staple of the locals, perfectly legal and apparently a cure all for altitude. The bar area looked over the city – a million-dollar view and a price of a few cents.
We wanted to walk into town. No nap for our troopin' butts. Sleep shouldn't get in the way of l-i-v-i-n. A stroll into town quickly turned into a trudge up a couple of the hills which surround the city as Sarah showed us some of her recollections.
After being to both Afghanistan and Cusco, I've discovered that the 3rd world has a smell. A mixture of open sewers and burning embers. Not an overpowering smell, but I was brought back to Afghanistan in certain neighborhoods the way a baby food brings back childhood memories to a full-grown man.
Lots of stray dogs too. Mangy but not hungry. Not sure how the system works, but the dogs were fed if not totally washed. And while it felt 3rd world and was incredibly cheap, there were few beggars and everyone seemed happy. Genuinely happy and quick to return an 'hola' or 'buenas dias'.
Our little impromptu trek led us to the Christo Blanco – or Buddy Jesus as he became affectionately known to the group. Our trek back to town led us passed a tiny, 5-table restaurant that we dipped into. We apparently took the owners off guard. We placed our orders somewhat blindly. The grandma cooked our meals in a nearby kitchen as we sipped on semi warm bottles of Peruvian beer. We got to know 2 very well. Not much of an import beer business in Peru. The meal turned out to be delicious. I was lucky and ended up with a rack of lamb. The total for a full meal and a large beer? About 10 Soles… or 3 bucks. It was a good welcome to South America.
The next day we headed out to an Incan museum. We then wandered to a local market. Tourists were few inside where teeming stalls were filled with local goods, spices, foods and meals. We passed a vendor selling tamales. A good snack. I enjoy trying new things so after walking awhile longer I walked up to a lady at a stall, pointed to her sign and had a seat. She smiled, and went to work on her one-element stove. Turned out to be a red meat covered in a tomato-based sauce served with rice and veggies. I'm Catholic so I gave the sign of the cross to Sarah's and my stomach and dug in. It was good and a total of 4 soles. About a buck thirty. As we were eating we looked over at another vendor who was selling drinks of various sorts. We wondered what they were, some looking pretty… ripe. We would find out in a few days.
After lunch we tried to find our way through the busy streets to an artisan market. Traffic in Peru is interesting. There are few lights and even fewer signs. A simple honk and a nose in front decide the right of way. We managed to not become a traffic statistic along the way. My friend Josh, however, became a Caucasian statistic. Josh's background is of the fairest complexion. While the Scottish and Irish he is descended from did fine in their homelands with lighter skin, 2 miles up in the Andes does not a happy skinned Josh make. By the time we made it to the market, the poor fella was toast. One of the man's many run ins with nature on the trip.
The market was fun. Lots of haggling. I managed an Alpaca sweater and a couple of hats for a few bucks. My Spanish came back with a fury as I would spend 5 minutes haggling with a local over 3 soles. I would usually get my way. Though, walking away it would hit me – I just stuck to my guns over a nice hand-made sweater that cost me about $10. She wanted $10.30. Capitalist pig.
After dinner we headed back to our hostel to get some sleep for our 4-day trek the next day. When I booked the hostel, I looked online at several hostels and their reviews. This one was considered a 'party' hostel, but not the rowdiest. I wanted to have a good time. And it was indeed. However, our room just so happened to be directly under the bar… and it was Saturday… and 80's night.
Aha's 'Take on Me' thumped over my head at 2 a.m. I had to be up in a few hours to hike over a couple mountains. Shit.
NEXT TIME – hills, valleys and rocks! Oh my!
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