Still kicking around Lima and enjoying the fruits of Peru. Spicier food, the same medicore beer, and a stronger sun dominates our lives. Not being used to staying in one place for so long, my familiarity with my surroundings is tripping my internal travel instinct to move on. But, for good reason that urge has been suppressed due to the anticipated arrival of Andy and Janey Q in 3 days. The plan is to continue to retain no plan. Machu Pichu is the first destination and from there we´ll probably throw darts on the map and proceed accordingly. Patiences and credits cards are sure to be tested, but I am anticipating our trip with them to be quite exciting. They may even get a guest blog appearance to convey the joys of traveling with two hapharzards.
Some notes on the current situation. Lima is city where almost every car is a taxi-or a potential taxi as people merely slap a small sticker saying "Taxi" on their car. Becoming employed never became so easy-one car, one sticker and you´re a regular cabbie. As there are no taxi meters, the price haggling ritual is quite entertaining. Actually, it usually not much of a haggle as before you enter the cab you state the destination and the cabbie usually states a price one Sole (the money here) over the real cost of the fare. Then you reply the real cost and he acknowledges that you know the real cost and lets you in. It more like stating a password than actually haggling the price.
Got a strange dose of home yesterday when I met two guys staying in Lima who also went to Rockhurst High School (class of 06), one of which now goes to St. Louis University. A big coincidence although I seriously doubt their claims as neither has heard of the legend of Brian Quarnstrom. More face from home are appearing soon as well as our buddy Brian Meagher from KC arrived Saturday night to visit his girlfriend here and we are hoping to meet up with him soon. On another positive note my spanish skills are making some serious gains with the help of a local gal. Que buena.
More news when we make some.
Q
Monday
Just Awaitin´ in Lima
Sunday
Thursday
Loving Life in Lima
Just checking in with you to let you know that I´m still good and well. Contrary to some of the horror stories we heard previously about Lima, it has been quite a good time. I arrived to Petro holding down a pretty sweet gig bartending at the hostel, which makes his life practically expenseless here in Lima (and our social life more affordable). As for myself, considering our long stay in Lima waiting for my parents to arrive on the 27th, I decided to rent a room in house near to where Petro is staying. Have the best of both worlds--the hostel to party and the house for making PB&Js and hiding out. The owner´s son who showed me the place gave me a nostalgic feeling for St. Louis when he described the layout of the neighborhood, ¨that way is nice, that way is nice, that way is nice, that way you will be robbed,¨ saying it with upmost certainty.
Paddys days was not the brain scrambling that I am used to in Chitown and St. Louis but we made the most of it here. Ever on the lookout for exploitive drinking situations, we first headed to one of the many casinos here to pull nickel slots mindlessly while capitalizing on their free drinks. Everything was working splendidly with complimentary desserts and drinks up until 4 drinks deep the waitress said ¨we don´t have any more whisky¨ well, fine, vodka tonics will do..¨we are out of that too.¨ Thinking that there may be some confusion in the translation the pit boss came over and spoke in English and said, ¨what can we get you gentlemen.¨ We repeated the request and were met with a ¨we don´t have any¨....now it was becoming apparent that the ruse was up. Gringo or not, they exposed our routine, which was not entirely phony as Petro was just beginning to pull down some serious wins on Video Poker. Cut off or not the house was beat that night.
There has been a bit of noise lately in the Comments Section and in emails demanding that this blog be ¨sexed up.¨ Now, I don´t know what type of person you perceive me to be but whoring myself out for your reading pleasure is just low class and reprehensible...do you really want to hear about the harem of international women who follow us around carrying our bags and attending to our every needs...no you sicko, you shouldn´t. Plus, my sweet old grandmother Grammy reads this blog religiously and unless someone is going to volunteer to intercept every transmission, than all indiscretions will die with me, unless Petro writes a scathing Tell-All book about this trip. If you really cannot live without details from the trip of this nature, a paying site has been established to at least help us captilize financially from these stories: www.awkwardencountersinastrangelandusingafalsename.com. Have fun.
Off to work on my bronze,
Qornelius
Sunday
The Day of the Bus
Not the best 24 hours of my life but certainly not the worst. Trying to save a little cheese, I took the first leg of the journey to Lima on a cheap bus from Puno to Arequipa. First mistake: sitting in the first row on the 2nd level. Front row panoramic views of every near collision and negligent passing attempt made by the lunatic driver who possesses little regard for the 40 people on board. Top if off with a blazing sun staring in at you and you have yourself a comfortable little ride. My regular boarding ritual includes scouting out any possible english speakers in case of emergency or just sheer boredom (both always likely). In this case it was a trio of Polish girls (most Europeans speak several languages unlike us), who, to my envy were departing the bus soon to fly to Arequipa, thus beating me there by several hours. After a brief conversation, their stop arrived and I wished them luck with their flight and secretly wished for a rain out for them due to their leaving me to wallow in a solitary misery.
First came the orator. He not only was giving a speech to the whole bus, he was screaming it. His fervor and my inability to diagnose the cause he was exalting made me slightly nervous. The faces of those around me confirmed that he speaking of a serious matter. I spent about 10 minutes listening for buzz words such as "imperialists," "evil empire," or "the stupid gringo sitting in the front row." But, I heard none and I put on some tunes to drown out the irate man. Next came the hat pass for money, in which the orator lingered above me extra long with his hat shoved in my face. As I never requested this speech nor did I particularly want to help finance this man screaming at another bus for 30 minutes, I declined payment. May not have been a good move as the man began to scream to the whole bus about the people who "no tienes plata" or those who aren't giving money. Finally, after a while he ridded himself of the bus. Next came the candy beggar. Not possessing the oratical skills to blackmail riders, he merely threw candy in their lap--to be ¨purchased¨by them when he returned. Cripple or not, that kid took a handful of candy to the back of the head and there is no proof that it was me...
The silver lining in that first bus ride was the Peruvian kid sitting next to me who recognized me as someone who could potentially become lost securing a connecting bus from Arequipa to Lima or just a lost soul altogether. After disembarking the first bus he spent 15 minutes of his own time walking me through the steps of getting the ticket to Lima. This unsolicited hospitality by a Peruvian was a breath of fresh air compared to the sneaky tactics seen in Bolivia.
The next bus got a little stranger. Not wanting to re-live the horrors of the first bus, I ponied up a good amount of cash to take a reputable bus company for the overnight journey to Lima. I should have figured things would be weirder when I was walking to the bus and a man was filming me at point blank range. When I asked him nicely just what in the hell he was doing he replied "for safety reasons¨and proceeded to shove the camera in all the passengers faces. You can come up with your own conclusions for why they employ this ¨safety¨tactic. Then there was the rousing game of bingo that was played en route, which lifted my spirits slightly when I was only 2 numbers away from Blackout Bingo. I already had plans in my head of signing the national anthem if I won. This high was quickly extinguished with the proceeding 4 hours of trying to sleep in coffin-like posture. Not until I stuffed myself in the overhead bin (or an unoccupied row) did I get any quality sleep.
It all ended well when I arrived in Lima and found a mustachioed Petro sleeping in the hostel. Re-united again and dreaming of spectacular things to happen while in Lima. Petro has informed me there is a casino that gives out money to Gringos so we will probably go investigate that phenomenon tonight.
Go big or go home,
Q
Saturday
Lake Titicaca....what???
Wednesday
A Pleasant Ride Down the Death Road
Today, I sit in anticipation of the full cancellation of my already delayed flight to the Bolivian Amazon area of Rurrenbaque. I have a spot reserved on a 12 seater that is supposed to provide spectacular views of the Andes. I watched clips of the movie ALIVE today on YouTube to prepare myself for any possible dietary changes this trip could produce.
I'm delayed til later but the lady at the tour agency told me that I "will for sure be going today." I have as much faith in her statement as I do with the several dozen other half-truths I have heard since being in Bolivia. I´ll give it until tomorrow afternoon until I´ll give up and head up north.
Don´t lie me,
Brian
Monday
La Paz
Greetings from the highest capital city on Earth--La Paz (out of breath just typing that). I now find myself here after spending 2 nights in quite possibly Bolivia´s prettiest city, Sucre. It is just wrapping up the rainy season here and many roads are in bad or unpassable condition, limiting my destinations. My current predicament involves trying to book a flight on a Bolivian military transport plane to get into the much sought after Rurrenbaque jungle area. Reports of travel by bus there is that the 18 hour trip can take 3 days and has induced delirium in those unlucky enough to attempt it. The alternative--flying in, is not much better with supposedly a 80% cancellation rate on the commercial service and a slightly better percentage with the military transport. Gonna shoot for a Wednesday departure if possible. If not, we´ll see where to...
Since my Salar trip I have been travelling with an Aussie named Tom and a Londoner named Ollie. Hooligans and BS-ers in the highest degree--I don´t think there has been a serious topic of conversation since meeting in Sucre. Unfortunately, my comprehension of Ollie´s version of the King´s English is about at the same level as my Spanish language comprehension so I usually have to have Tom translate the English. Many other backpackers have been questioning how such an odd trio began to travel together. They're certainly no Petro, but are gonna have to do in his absence.
La Paz has been a little interesting to say the least...the hostel we found ourselves at is unlike any I´ve stayed at so far..a huge renovated mansion packed with dorms and an almost round the clock bar filled with people who haven´t seen a 9 to 5 in quite some time. I keep waiting for some parental figure to walk in and scold everyone. For some amongst those flocking there, La Paz is a city of unbridled debauchery--reports of nightclubs with mounds of cocaine littering the tables and falling from strung up pinatas are routine. From the sounds of it, it appears somebody packed up Studio 54 and relocated it to a more welcoming city. The participation of some backpackers in this sort of lifestyle here is quite contradictory to their daytime "save the earth with this cause" rhetoric as you can't possibly do more harm to your visiting country than to promote their community poisoning drug trade. But, for the most part, they are in the minority and for more rational minded visitors, La Paz still provides ample opportunity for more responsible extremes.
Don´t ask the "hows & whys" of this story but last night Tom, Ollie, and I found ourselves in a warehouse-turned-gymnasium in the outskirts of La Paz after hearing promises of being able to witness sanctioned womens fighting and wrestling. It is against my ethics to pay to watch women fight as I very well can just watch it on YouTube for free but this experience seemed like something not to pass up. A little disappointingly, much of the fighting was a little WWF-esque but regardless the show proved bizzare in many ways. First, during a break in the bouts, the announcer pointed to a man in the crowd who was rumored to have flashed a knife at one of the wrestlers--he was thrown out to the boos of the crowd. I do not doubt this really happened as during the bouts the crowd often threw various objects at the wrestlers. Also, in every bout the "bad guy" won the match which may have some interesting learning repercussions on the masses of children present at this "family style" event that included wrestlers routinely giving the middle figure to the crowd. I snapped this short movie of the main event--yes, that is a midget you see.
I have an exciting few days coming up. Today, if the weather improves a group of us is going to try and play at the "highest golf course in the world." Not much of a golfer myself, I only pursue this experience to have a leg up on my Uncle Joe. On Tuesday, I am taking a mountain bike down "world´s most dangerous road," which should be a real treat.
Well, that enough superlatives for one blog. I´ll check in with you soon.
Brakes are for sissies,
Q
Wednesday
On Another Planet
Bolivia has me now whether they like it or not.
Before departing on the tour into Bolivia, I did a little exploring around San Pedro in Chile. I rented a bike and made the journey to the nearby Valle de la Luna, which is a national park that holds a landscape much like the moon (so they say, I will hopefully confirm or deny this later in life). Sand dunes and strange rock formations inhabit the area and during much of my trek around the park I did not encounter many other visitors, making the experience a little more eerie. Other than this magical little excursion I was eager to get out of expensive Chile and onward into the cheap thrills of Bolivia. On Sunday morning, our group consisting 13 people of a smorgasboard of nationalities descended with our guides towards the Chilean/Bolivian border. As the lone American and anticipating some ribbing because of this fact, I brushed up little on my pro-US rhetoric--"Ok, yes we are reponsible for that but guess where those delicious HALLS cough drops you are popping are made?!"
After the comical immigration procedure at a two room shack in the mountains (they stamped my passport again in addition to the consulate taking up 9 spots on it--all but ensuring that at some point this year I will have to go to the U.S Embassy somewhere and have more pages put in. Bolivia 2, me 0), our group divided up into two LandCruisers and began the rapid ascent into the high altitudes of Bolivia. During the first day we went from approximately 5,000 ft. to roughly 15,000 ft, which produced slight headaches for some and head-exploding puking for others. Luckily, I only felt the former. At one stop, when emerging from the car it felt like an instant intoxication and people began to slightly stagger and mix words. To mitigate these symptoms, the guides duly passed out coca leaves for chewing and drinking in tea. Daniel, a Czech riding in my car, was feeling poorly because of the altitude and unknown to us, had been consuming a serious amount of the leaves. Only after I had a conversation with him that included his ramblings on the topics of Czech beer and life under the Soviet regime followed by non-sensical babble, did I and the rest of our car realize that he was pretty zonked out. It didn´t help his pysche that we all began laughing at him hysterically including the guide. He went to sleep for 16 hours not long after that.
Our first night´s lodging was located near one of the many surreally colored lagoons in the Bolivian highlands. The herds of pink flamingos present in these lagoons make it all the more un-earthly looking. Day two started with our guide Jorge making the sign of the cross before we departed in the car, which caused the slightly panicky Dutch girl to exclaim that we were probably going to die today. As I have not fulfilled all that I have been sent to do, I knew this was not the case- but it made me think all the same. Night two was spent on the edge of the famous Salar de Uyuni in a hostal made almost entirely out of salt--furniture and flooring included. "Can you scoop me up some salt for these fries please."
The next day was the highlight of the tour with our entry into the vast salt flats of the Salar de Uyuni. Supposedly one of the Seven Natural Wonders of the World, the Salar will remain somewhat of a wonder to me as our guide Jorge was an expert in the ways of driving, cooking, and mechanics, but lacked signigicantly in area of explaining things. Regardless, Jorge allowed me to view part of the Salar while riding on the top of the LandCruiser, which was amazing until he forgot I was up there and proceeded to try and top the land speed record for the flats. Supposedly the panicky Dutch girl informed him that the American was on the roof of the car, but that only caused the other Europeans in the car to urge him to go faster and maybe hit the brakes once or twice. I survived with one awesome experience and a nasty windburn for a souvenir.
Overall the tour was pretty impressive and some of the pictures should convey why.
And so now begins my immersion into Bolivian life. A recent email sent from a traveller we met in B.A. who had just finished living in Bolivia for over a year gave this advice: "overall, bolivians are great people although huge liars. Dont believe a word they say." And so with this information I now find myself in Bolivia. I took a nightmarish bus ride from Uyuni to Sucre and now I am typing this out in a sleep deprived state waiting for the hostal to open up. Nothing is set in stone but a trip to La Paz and later to the Bolivian Amazon is probably likely. We´ll see what happens.
Lie to me,
Q
Some people have been indicated they would appreciate a little shout out so here it is: Big T Reardon recently received stitches above his eye for reasons probably associated with hitting on a girl--persistance beats resistance Timmy! Jen Tiehen recently found out she is going to be an Auntie--congrats Jenny, Rusty Grizzle sounds like a good name doesn´t it? And Elizabeth Tornabene has made some serious contributions to this trip in the research department-- thanks Elizabeth, how do I find the supermarket in Sucre?
Posts
