The Peripatetic Paxsonites

Some really late-published photos

2009-12-03T17:55:00.000-09:00

About to write my first wedding/honeymoon trip posting, and found these pictures in a post in my draft folder. Got the pictures in the post, but no words, and then forgot about it, I guess! These are my best pics from the Alaska Ferry trip Audie and I took back in March.

Road Trip!

2009-04-02T10:39:00.015-08:00

After visiting Maddi in the Netherlands, we flew to Arizona. Audie stayed for a day of glorious sunshine and desert hiking, and then continued traveling, while I settled in to spend a very busy and productive week with my Mom. Weather could not have been more perfect: low 80s, lots of sun, and wildflowers just coming into bloom! Just spectacular. This was a very busy week, however, with getting my Subaru, "Lucy", into the shop for some minor repairs before her road trip, buying new tires, packing lots of beloved stuff from Mom's house, and doing lots and lots of shopping for treasures one just can't find in Alaska.

Coming from Paxson, one can read about in the New York Times online and see in one's own stock portfolios the economic tumble our country has taken, but in the wilderness it's pretty hard to notice the effect on the wider world. In Europe we didn't notice any particularly distressing signs. Not until I got to Phoenix did I see the rows of empty storefronts, and in Oregon the many, many hitchhikers and homeless. More than usual. Every store in Scottsdale and Phoenix seemed to be having a 75% off sale, and while disturbed by this trend, I was also selfishly gladdened by all of this. When you only go shopping once a year, it's pretty fantastic to have sales everywhere you visit. Let's just say I definitely did my part as a consumer to try to keep the economy afloat!

Above is Captain Jack, one of my Mom's two new kittens, exploring the fascinating world of typewriter keys. This is my beloved portable typewriter, that I bought actually only a few years ago when I was going through a particularly acute Luddite phase. I love the strong thawump! of the keys when I type, and it actually dings when I get to the end of a row. I also love that it doesn't automatically return to the beginning of the next row, but I must stop typing and give the carriage a satisfying whack to return. I still use it on occasion, and sometimes my writing performs better with the loud clickity-clack-clack.

Captain Jack and her other kitty Hitch, both less than 8 months old, did a wonderful job of helping me pack, being the official box-packing inspectors, needing to check out every item leaving Arizona for Alaska.

After a week of packing and shopping and sunbathing, Mom and I and Lucy started to roll, traveling north through Wickenburg (my old hometown) and on through the fantastic Joshua Tree forests south of Kingman and on to California. Our first night was in Tehachapi, where we just had pulled into our hotel room when it started to snow! A leisurely drive the following day through vineyard country landed us in Monterey, where we quickly met up with my Aunt Peggy. We did a nice walking tour of the wharfs, and had a great homecooked dinner with her and my cousin Thor. A beautiful star-filled night led us to Pebble Beach, where we searched for constellations and enjoyed the crash of the waves.

The next day started with a leisurely breakfast by the ocean with lots of family stories and reminiscences, beach walking and bird watching, exploring Pebble Beach, driving around to view family real estate projects, and then on to the Monterey Aquarium, where I took these pics:

A pretty amazing jellyfish exhibit...

and a great live shorebird aviary, with a very realistic tide that would go in and out.

We had a wonderful visit with Peggy, who is quite the naturalist. I so want her and Audie to meet someday soon as I know they would have a lot to talk about! That late afternoon we continued driving a little ways north to spend the night at my cousin Heidi's house in Los Gatos. We had a wonderful dinner with her and her husband and two marvelous kids, and Heidi and I stayed up late, sharing stories and a bottle of wine, and doing some great cousin re-connecting.

The next day Mom and I continued north, along the coast on Highway 1, through San Francisco, and then over the Golden Gate Bridge! This was my first time to San Francisco...I've visited friends at Stanford U., and in San Jose before, and family on the Montery Peninsula a few years ago, but this was new and exciting to drive through San Francisco! I have to admit I was a bit nervous about it, coming from Paxson where rush hour is one car an hour, and when suddenly I was in an eight-lane freeway I did let out a gasp,...but I did OK!

We were lucky with no fog and a relatively clear day to get good shots of the bridge. We then continued....guess which way: north!....through the wine country of Sonoma to the lovely little town of Sebastopol, where my Aunt Janet and Uncle Harry live. Our first stop was to Janet's extraordinarily beautiful and well-done shop, the Silk Moon Gallery, full of textiles, jewelry, and wonderful gifts from her extensive travels throughout SouthEast Asia. I'm so proud of my aunt and this gorgeous gallery she has created from the ground up. Below is a picture of Mom shopping at Silk Moon Gallery:

Harry rode his bike into town to meet the three of us for a long, leisurely lunch. We timed our visit just right: Harry had just returned the night before from a trip to Australia, and while suffering from jet-lag, at least we got to see him! And Janet was extraordinarily busy, getting ready to leave in a few days for a three week shopping trip to Cambodia. I always miss not living closer to my family: reunions for me are always bittersweet, wonderfully happy to see them again, and then so sad to have to leave!

The main reason I drove this route to Seattle from Arizona was to visit family I hadn't seen in a couple of years. Very important for me. An added bonus of driving the coastal route of California was to finally....finally!....visit the Redwoods. Audie advised me that the redwood experience in Humboldt Park is better than in the Redwoods Park, so Mom and I made a point to drive the scenic drive through Humboldt and allow a few hours for hiking and tree-gazing. That's me in the pic above. The weather was perfect for us here: dappled sunshine, not too cold, and few other tourists so all we heard was the wind in the giant trees. This was a very special stop for me, and I'm sure for Mom too.

And then on to the Oregon coast! Audie and I drove about half the coast a few years back, and I wanted Mom to see what I think is the most spectacular stretch of coastline in the US (sorry, California). Mom and I ended up driving the entire length of the coast, from the southern border all the way to Astoria in the north. We drove leisurely too, only 300 miles or so a day, so lots of time to get out and explore beaches.

And above is a picture of one of the most amazing wildlife encounters I've ever had and, besides reconnecting with family, my favorite memory of the trip: the Sea Lion Cave, near Florence. Audie and I stopped here on our trip a few years ago, but upon walking into the office which is a pretty tacky gift shop, Audie and I marched right out again, thinking it a tourist trap. How wrong we were. Once Mom and I got past the tacky gift shop, and descended in the elevator to the cave, I knew we were in for something special. Upon exiting the elevator, there was a strange noise, like some weird piped-in music that was supposed to sound like sea lions cavorting. How strange, I thought, until we turned the corner in the cave, heard the crashing waves and peered through the wire screen to see the view in the pic above. Hundreds, hundreds, of sea lions grunting away in satisfied sea lion fashion. The sound accompanied by the waves, amplified by the cave, was incredible. I'll never forget it. The smell was of wet rock and wet sea lion bodies. And the view: undisturbed, close-up viewing of sea lions in their natural habitat. Apparently this is the only such cave on the western seaboard and the world's largest, and with the seas rough that day, many sea lions were taking a break. Snoozing, climbing over each other, grooming, contemplating. Two almost got in a fight! And some had climbed rock probably two stories high! It was awesome just to watch them, listen, be a part of their world. I can easily say this is definitely one of the most awesome wildlife viewing experiences I've ever had. I'm still gushing about it to anyone who will listen, and I can't wait to go back.

Mom loved the Oregon coast, as I knew she would. Our last stop before hitting Seattle was to stay the night with her friend Gloria in southern Washington, girlfriends since they were both in the seventh grade. We had a nice time with her and meeting some of her extended family and grandkids. And then on to Seattle, driving interstate freeway for the first time since a short stretch in southern California. I hate interstates, preferring backroads and local highways and byways, like Highway 1 and 101. But we were in a rush to get to Seattle to pick Audie up at the airport! We had just pulled into town, got some pizza for lunch, when Audie called to say he caught an even earlier flight. Good timing again! We picked him up, and headed back to my brother Dan's house, where we celebrated with piscos and Thai food.

The next day we did touristy things! I've been to Seattle to visit Dan and his wife Tilly many, many times and have done many touristy things there, Audie's been to Seattle many times and almost never done touristy things there, and Mom had never been to Seattle before, so off we went to Pike's Place Market, which is great, no matter how many times you've been! That's Mom in the pic above, with Dan and Tilly with their backs to the camera to the left. After shopping in the market, we explored more and inevitably ended up at Elliot Bay Bookstore, which is my favorite bookstore on the planet. I wanted Mom to see it and its wonderfully creaky wooden floors.

And it was a fantastic day there. Sun, no rain, no wind. Perfect Seattle weather.

The next day Mom was flying back to Phoenix, and Audie and I driving up to Bellingham to catch the Alaska Ferry. That's Lucy, my Subaru, above, in Dan's driveway, loaded to the gills. But not too loaded: after we dropped Mom off at the airport, we made one last run to Trader Joe's and still managed to stuff 13 boxes of Charles Shaw wine in her!

Next entry: the Inside Passage!

Happy Days in Holland

2009-03-28T18:55:00.008-08:00

A new trip and destination for the blog! Holland, for almost two weeks, this February. This was my first trip to continental Europe. I'd been to Ireland many years ago, and most of my travels usually take me to Latin America, so this trip was to be a great cultural excursion for me, as well as a wonderful family visit: Audie's sister Maddi has lived in the Netherlands for many years, and his two nephews were born there. The following are a few select photos in a very random order:

Windmills! The iconic representation of Holland, and they are truly fantastic. This one was in a field, near Maddi's cottage, and although not still in service, it was pristine and well-cared for. Massive modern wind turbines are what are really in use these days, and although windswept Holland is replete with these, they don't make nearly so pretty a picture.

Found in Maddi's village! No, it's not a SmartCar. It's smaller even than that! It'd be lucky if the average American male could fit in the driver and passenger seats combined! I'm not sure how Dutch men, who are often quite tall (but not nearly so wide!), can fit in it.

Maddi's village is only a few hours by train to Amsterdam so we made a couple of day-trips there, to visit museums (Rijksmuseum, Van Gogh museum) and admire the canals and architecture of this amazing city. Notice the very obvious lean and odd window angles above? I took this picture dead-on, as you can tell from the two neighbors. Talk about being squished! Audie's theory is that the only way they could shoehorn it into such a narrow alley was to squeeze it so it popped.

I am in love with the houseboat lifestyle, and even though it was winter, many had wonderful gardens on their rooftops. And by the way, I thought February was a fantastic time to be in the Netherlands. No other tourists! We didn't get to see the fields of tulips or the magnificent city landscapings, but the museums were manageable and the trains weren't too packed. As is so often the case when we travel, our happiest times were just spent wandering, getting lost, discovering hidden alleys. And it wasn't too cold either...of course, only Alaskans go to the Netherlands in the winter to warm up!

Relaxing with a beer after our Van Gogh Museum foray. The museum had a special exhibit of Van Gogh's night paintings, centered of course around Starry Night, on loan from NY's MOMA. A headset recording with appropriate music, readings from Van Gogh's letters, and biographical information made the paintings soar to life. I've never before come close to crying in an art museum, but the beauty of the paintings, the intensity of the artist's life, and the music combined to make an overwhelmingly beautiful experience for me. Although many of the paintings are quite famous and the images are common printings in our everyday lives, to see the real painting itself, to study the brushstrokes and lines, is to feel inspired to be near such genius. Another happy museum moment for me was in the Rijksmuseum, with Vermeer's paintings. I have long been a fan of Vermeer's work, particularly his play of light on simple subjects. I felt very blessed to stand in front of his original works, and with museum crowds light at this time of year, one could linger and feel at peace with the art.

Lots of tramping around the Low Lands makes one quite hungry! While enjoying particular Dutch favorites like pannekoeken - as it sounds: pancakes - and split pea soup, good hearty fare, we also made a point to enjoy another cuisine the Dutch are famous for: Indonesian food! Here we are at a traditional rijstaffel. Although that specifically translates to "rice table", more apt would be "sumptuous feast"! Covering our table are perhaps thirty or so samplings of different dishes, all fantastically delicious. A small sampling of thirty dishes ends up equaling a lot of food on your plate! Audie's nephew Alan recently came back from an eight-month backpacking jaunt through southeast Asia, with stops in Indonesia, and says the Indonesian food in Holland is the best!

More of the rijstaffel in the beautiful city of Utrecht, with sister Maddi, nephew Alan, and our waiter. We had a number of very nice family dinners and socials with Maddi's friends while we were there. Visiting family or friends in a foreign locale certainly makes a trip extra special! Audie likes to joke that it always throws him for a loop to hear his sister and nephews conversing fluently in Dutch. It is amusing to watch family members talking freely in a language you can't understand!

I posted this picture on the other blog already, but it's my favorite picture from the Netherlands so I post it here again. This windmill is the same as the first picture on this posting. We awoke one morning in our guest cottage at Maddi's and this was the view from the window! I've seen lots of pretty sunsets in my life, but this is probably the nicest sunrise I've ever been witness to.

There are many things to admire about the Dutch culture, and the bicycle lifestyle is certainly one of them. Bikes are everywhere, and with everyone riding bikes, they've got to park them somewhere, hence: bike parking garages! The one behind me is three stories high.

Being so close, we also went to Belgium, to Antwerp, where we enjoyed famous Belgian beer and the most exquisitely delicious hot chocolate I've had in my life.

Jenny of the Jungle

2009-01-27T14:49:00.014-09:00

So after the dry desert extremes of the Atacama Desert, and the staggeringly impressive Machu Picchu and our tour of the Incan realm, we entered one of the other extremes on this planet: the Amazonian rainforest, the place with the highest biodiversity on Earth. It has been one of my life's most important goals to spend time in the Amazonian rainforest, so this was probably my favorite excursion of our entire trip.

We decided to stage this phase of our trip at one of the first lodges ever opened in the rainforest, Explorer's Inn on the Tambopata River. Audie long had yearned to go there, as his graduate-school roommate had conducted his own research while based at Explorer's. In fact, the grounds around this Inn still hold the world records for the most number of bird species, butterfly species, species of vegetation and other such biodiversity markers.

To get there we flew from Cuzco to the seedy jungle-access city of Puerto Maldonado. A van picked us and a few other guests up at the airport and then we drove for a few hours along a muddy, rutty (potholes as big as the van), bumpy backroad to reach the village from where we'd transfer to a boat for our 3 hour Tambopata River ride to the lodge.

And here is the river: typical muddy, brown river of the Amazonian basin. The Tambopata is a tributary of the Amazon River itself. When I saw this view of the river we had been traveling on, I was so happy: I was in the rainforest!

And here were our trails! We arrived at the height of the rainy season. Thankfully the lodge supplied us with knee-height rubber boots. This is what we were sloshing around in for five days...always quite an adventure. Especially our first morning there, when they woke us up for a 4:30 am Death Slog to the Lake. We hadn't yet seen the condition of the trails, so stumbling about in the dark, trying to avoid falling into muddy pools with possible poisonous snakes swimming around in them, the intense humidity, the mosquitos, the rain, the howler monkeys crying, the hoatzin calling their prehistoric cries: what an introduction to the rainforest! And then when I did trip and quickly learned: don't reach out and grab ANYTHING, because first trip in the mud I grabbed....

one of the arms of the walking palm, above. My cries of terror and pain at the half-inch long needle that impaled and wedged itself into my palm did nothing to teach me about the rule of "don't touch anything". Because I quickly collapsed in mud again and reached out to steady myself (it's such an instinct!) and grabbed a twig, or something, that was covered in fire ants, upon which hundreds of the devils swarmed onto my hand and arm. Hence: Death Slog to the Lake. Although the lake itself, our destination, was worth it: caimans (one of the alligators), piranhas (I put my finger in the water and one nibbled me!), giant river otters, and many, many birds.

And the impressive lianas!

And the bugs!

And here I am in our room with my new friend Tomas, one of the lodge's two pet macaws. Such an affectionate bird, he wanted to be with people all the time, so he was constantly passed from one shoulder to the next.

And here are Tomas' wild cousins, at a claylick we visited early one morning. Some of the fruit that macaws eat in the jungle are difficult to digest and they need certain nutrients in the clay.

Here I am with one of our guides in a dug-out canoe. A very tippy dug-out canoe. My nerves weren't helped by our other guide telling me the pond was full of piranhas...only when we got to the other side did I learn what a good jokester she was!

And some enormous trees! Audie and I are here with our bird guide, Reto.

I loved the jungle, although five days was enough. Jungle rot was starting to set in. My entire torso was covered in small itchy bites, chiggers we believed. Life in the jungle is hard. The constant, intense humidity is a force to deal with. We'd come back from every day's hike just soaking wet, and clothes do not dry out. Clean clothes I had to keep stored in plastic zip-lock bags in my backpack or they'd be just as wet as the clothes I hiked in. My bed (& the lodge only has twin beds...you DON'T want to sleep with anyone!) was wet when I'd crawl in it. We'd dry ourselves off from our cold showers in wet towels.

Our lodge didn't have electricity, so we only had candles in our room, which I loved. However, the matchbook would get so wet that I'd try to light ten matches before one would finally alight: they were too soaked in humidity to spark!

Some things I loved about my jungle experience: howler monkeys; night walks with no flashlights to just listen to the amazing night sounds of the forest; the cacique and hoatzin birds; the amazing amount of LIFE everywhere; how overwhelming the color green can become; the German snake-loving guest who tried to find and eventually caught a fer-de-lance (one of the most poisonous snakes that exists) and the lodge employee who let it loose on the lodge grounds!; our night boat rides on the river to look for the red eyes of the caimans; the chef who prepared food gathered from the jungle; and....most of all....just feeling, experiencing, and living in one of the most important ecosystems on this planet, the ancient Amazonian rainforest. I hope to return! But if I don't, I will treasure my time in the Amazon forever. I feel so lucky to have experienced it.

Machu Picchu

2009-01-23T18:07:00.000-09:00

Everyone has already seen tons of pictures of Machu Picchu elsewhere, and better ones too, but here are some of mine. It was drizzling almost the entire time we were there, so I didn't get as many pictures as I would have liked. But the rain didn't bother me at all: in fact, it created a rather mystical backdrop, more so than sun would have, and evoked mystery and silence. Machu Picchu doesn't disappoint in any weather. Like has been said so many, many times: Machu Picchu is an unforgettable splendor. It is awe-inspiring, humbling, and stirring.

Ready to get on the train to head to the town of Aguas Calientes, where we spent the night in order to get on the first 5 am bus to Machu Picchu in the morning.

Now THIS is a river! The Rio Ucaylali that winds its way around the base of the mountains that house Machu Picchu. On a river-running scale of 1 to 5, I think this one is a 9! A pretty good enemy deterrant, but how did the first Machu Picchu builders cross it?

I love bromeliads, and the forests surrounding Machu Picchu and on the Inca Trail were full of them.

And here are some scenes of the staggering site itself:

We spent almost the entire day wandering around here. From 6 in the morning until about 3 in the afternoon, then we walked back to Aguas Calientes on the Inca Trail, enjoying the lush forests and birdlife.

My favorite day in Peru...hands down

2009-01-14T16:08:00.000-09:00

I'm not sure in what order to put these pictures. They were all taken on one marvelous day, as we walked down a long road. Our second day in the village of Ollantaytambo we decided we wanted to get out in the hills, out to nature, so we could do some birdwatching. The folks at our wonderful B&B in Ollantay suggested we take a taxi up the mountain to the even smaller village of Patacancha, about 22 km away, and we could then take a leisurely 8 hour or so hike back down the road to Ollantay. They assured us we'd see many birds and even get some interesting culture in besides, as it was market day for the villages we'd pass through along the way.

I remember this day, such a simple day, walking down a road, with the greatest happiness and pleasure. I finally felt like I was getting to know Peru, the real Peru, and I loved it. What certainly helped our day trip was our taxi driver we drove with to the top of the mountain. He was a friend of the clerk at our B&B and he gave us a wonderful introduction to the villages and even taught us some Quechua phrases we could use. I only remember one, a basic hello, pronounced in English like a-lee-yan-cho (at least, this is how I remember it). It only took me half the day to remember how to say it without cheating to look at the piece of paper I wrote it on. He also taught us a more complicated "how do you do?" phrase, which I never got right. Quechua is a most complex language, at least to our ears! Most humorous of all was everyone we managed to say Aleeyancho to inevitably replied to us in Spanish! When we finally did get somebody to respond to us in Quechua, we were overwhelmed with pride at our Quechua conversational abilities: "Hello!" "Hello!"

Right from the start we knew this was going to be a great day:

One of the first people we said hello to didn't just nod his head and pass by, but broke out in a large smile and, in Spanish, introduced himself as Dionysio and inquired what we were doing here. He then immediately invited us to his house to meet his family. He said there was a party going on for the first birthday of his nephew and we were invited! Who could resist? They welcomed us into their home (Dionysio is to the right of Audie, above) and we had a great time visiting with them, but it was also an eye-opener to the life of rural poverty. Their dwelling was a small mud house with a dirt floor, and with no windows. It was so dark inside that when they offered us some boiled potatoes to eat, I had a hard time finding them at the bottom of the pot they served them in. But such a spontaneous show of friendly hospitality they gave us, wanting nothing more than to visit with some strangely dressed foreigners during the birthday party. We left after a while with many wishes for a good day and hopes that we'd return again.

A group of ladies weaving on the traditional loom, in the middle of a field. So peaceful!

And this was a scene that would repeat itself throughout the day. A group of ladies, or men, just sitting on a hillock, either weaving, spinning, or just conversing.

One of my favorite pictures of the day, two ladies just walking down a road and spinning at the same time.

We were also trying to find birds on this walk. About halfway through the day, Audie was deep in a grove of trees, chasing down a hummingbird while I waited on the road to see if it would fly back my way. A newish pickup truck we had seen off and on, rounded a bend and parked in front of me. A young man leaped out of the truck, ran up to me, and asked me if I spoke Spanish. I said yes, and he told me, in a somber tone, that the mayor would like to have a word with me. Could I please come to the truck? My heart leapt into my throat. Although I knew the Shining Path is mostly a chapter in the history books, the violence they wreaked in these villages was never far from my mind. And I never trust a Latin American public official. Mayor or no, I wasn't going near that truck. I asked him where is the mayor? He motioned to the truck, but with its black tinted windows, I could see nobody. What does he want to talk to me about? I asked. Looking a little exasperated, the young man motioned at the truck and an older gentleman emerged and walked up to me just as Audie came back. He introduced himself as the mayor of Ollantaytambo and the surrounding villages, and said he had seen us walking all over the place today and he was curious what our business was here. He was not exactly friendly. Audie quickly told him that we were biologists and were studying the birds. The mayor didn't look too convinced. What he possibly could have thought we were doing, I have no idea, but his distrust and suspicion of us were obvious. He asked where we were from, what did we do there, why did we come to Peru. Audie enthusiastically whipped out his camera and said, "Let me show you the birds and nature where we live!" He happened to still have some moose and caribou pictures from Alaska in his camera. After the fifth moose picture, the mayor said Ok, ok, ok!, smiled, and gave us his card. He said if we had any problems today, to please let him know personally, wished us a good time, and departed. It was a strange encounter!

And this last pic is probably my favorite picture from the entire trip. This was taken at one of the small village markets we passed through on the way, where multiple villages gathered to sell their produce to one another. I love the faces, the body language.

Ollantaytambo

2009-01-07T17:19:00.003-09:00

After leaving Cuzco, we began our exploration of the Sacred Valley of Peru and our approach to Machu Picchu by taking a speed-demon taxi ride to the delightful village of Ollantaytambo, where we stayed for a number of days. We were happy to return to the peace and quiet of village life after our crazy days in Cuzco.

Some readers may remember the other Arctic doggies we met in the Chilean port of Valparaiso. We sure were surprised to meet another, and this one a wooly Malamute like Borealis! The sweetest dog, he followed us around for hours.

This little, and I mean very little, lady was in the main square of Ollantaytambo. Notice she's barely taller than the bus' bumper. Tall gringos like ourselves can sure feel like towering giants here! Who knows if it's due primarily to genetics or malnutrition, but my bet is the former is definitely a key cause.

Some more wonderful, narrow alleyways. Ollantaytambo is, more than Cuzco, the best remaining example of Incan city-planning. All the streets in the town are the original Incan stone streets and walls. You really feel like you are walking back in time here. One of my books says that Ollantay has been continuously inhabited since the 13th century.

And the traditional Incan doorways, slanted inwards at the top.

Cuzco: Weavings and Walls

2009-01-03T09:59:00.013-09:00

After Arequipa, we traveled to Cuzco by plane, a flight on which we met up with our New Caledonian friends again. I will say, at the outset, that I was a little disappointed with Cuzco. Ancient Incan capital it may be, but it is now also the modern tourism capital of Peru, if not of all South America. Be prepared to be bombarded by hustlers: for restaurants, lodges, hotels, tours, shops, tacky souvenirs, you name it. Also the general out-stretched hand who has nothing to offer but a look of misery mixed with piety. Our second day in Cuzco I finally counted how many times I said "No, gracias" to the many who wished to empty my pocket of its pesos: 49 times. And this was certainly fewer than the first day. The reason? Our second afternoon we realized we needed another suitcase and had seen some nifty large bags being carried around. We ended up going on a three hour hike to a particular market to purchase this bag, a $2 suitcase. Audie even tried to bargain the price down with the 10-year-old kid who was selling it. Being such a traditional bag, it was a very effective disguise for tourists! Obviously everyone thought we were local gringo residents once we started carrying it around, for we were bothered no more.

Besides the tourism hassles of Cuzco, the altitude sickness and bus smog, there are a few treasures in the city like:

Incan walls. The precision that went into this stone-cutting is awesome. There were no holes or cracks in this wall. Every stone a perfect fit with every other. It's really quite impressive! And Cuzco has the best examples of this remaining architecture and stonework.

Nifty narrow alleyways. Again, remaining from Incan times.

And best of all, I would say: The Center for Traditional Textiles. Our friend Jo had been to Peru a few months before our trip and highly recommended we stop here (& later gave me a wonderful book written by the founder, all about Peruvian weaving and textiles: thanks again Jo!) We loved this place, a living museum and research center. We actually bought, along with some other things, the weaving that is hanging on the back wall, top right, in the picture above. We stayed here for hours. Above and below are 3 Quechua-speaking ladies demonstrating the art of Peruvian weaving. Only one of them spoke Spanish, so we were able to talk with her about her work.

It's quite amazing, the symbols, stories, rituals, myths, and legends that are woven into the textiles. All Peruvian weavings have a voice, tell a story. It's a fascinating art.

When we left the Center we ran into a street protest. It was a peaceful protest, and only one of a number of protests that had been ocurring around Cuzco during our time in Peru. If I remember correctly, the Peruvian government was planning to lease the upkeep and operations of a number of important Incan sites, including Machu Picchu, to a Chilean management company. The Quechua-speaking population was understandably perturbed by this. And so were many other Peruvians, especially if one understands the rancorous relationship Peru and Chile have, each claiming the other is the biggest villain on the continent. These ladies, however, were having a jolly good time doing their protest!

Monasterio de Santa Catalina

2008-12-20T22:00:00.000-09:00

Here we go, with some of my favorite pictures from Peru, from one of my favorite places we visited: The Monastery of Santa Catalina in downtown Arequipa.

A little history before the photography eye-candy:

Shortly after the Spanish invasion of Peru, the founding fathers of Arequipa decided their new city needed a convent. In 1580 a new monastery was built and a wealthy widow decided to move in and become the first resident, and the first prioress. Most likely due to her social connections and class standing, many of the novices she attracted came from the wealthy families of Peru's elite, along with some Incan chieftain's daughters. Girls used to the good life don't always like to leave it behind, despite the ardor of their faith. Many of these novices brought along their servants, slaves, and the fine accoutrements of life they were used to: silver cutlery, porcelain, plush carpets, and European furniture. Not content to just whisper vespers, the women continued to be engaged in their wealthy social circles: parties, musicians, and private visitors were the norm in the monastery.

This happy double-life continued for generations. As the monastery grew and became wealthier from the dowries of its novices, private chambers were erected, so the nuns had their own private gardens, kitchens, and multi-room apartments. It grew so large, about 20,000 square meters, that it took up an entire city block and became a city within a city. It wasn't until the mid-1800s that the Vatican realized the Arequipa nunnery was more a soirée than a place of religious devotion, and a strict Dominican nun was sent over to clean the place up. Too bad, I say: I'm rather jealous of their lives; sounds like a nice arrangement!

Over the years, without the dowries, the monastery never modernized, and entering it today, I felt like I was stepping back into the 16th or 17th century. It was only in the 1970s that the monastery was electrified, and because the nuns had no funds to comply with this new mandatory city code, they opened up the monastery to the public, and have now retired to a small, private section. From a peak of 450 nuns plus servants, there are now about 20 or 30 nuns still practicing their faith in this monastery with a most colorful history.

Now, some pictures. This place is a photographer's dream. You'll see what I mean. I took close to 100 pictures, spending the entire day here. We were also quite lucky as there were very few other visitors that day, so none of our photos were marred by the presence of tourists, and we were free to wander around, get lost, and enjoy the silence and beauty of the place.

One is instructed to be silent, upon entering the first courtyard.

One of the many alleyways, or streets, connecting the various courtyards and nuns' private apartments.

Here is one of the dwellings. Many are still furnished, and the one above shows the simplicity that some nuns lived in. Other apartments were decorated quite lavishly, with velvet-covered furniture and china cabinets filled with fine porcelain.

Above is one of the many private apartment kitchens, still covered with soot.

The placement of flowers and plants was seemingly random, yet here there seemed to be an art to it. Everywhere I turned, either the architecture, the play of light, or the placement of flowers, captured my eye.

The blue walls were my favorite. Such an intense, rich, saturated blue.

We had such a fantastic day here, pretending to be professional photographers while our imaginations ran wild envisioning the colorful lives of the early nuns.

And to end a most perfect day: a very late lunch at probably the finest restaurant in Arequipa, the Trattoria del Monasterio, a very small restaurant attached to the monastery. Here I enjoyed my belated birthday lunch, with what were soon-to-be addicting pisco sours and just a hint at the marvelous cuisine that Peru had to offer us.

Peru bound!

2008-12-20T17:13:00.002-09:00

Attempting to leave Chile to head across the border to Peru was a somewhat confusing experience. Although Audie and I are both conversationally fluent in Spanish, the situation in the taxi/bus terminal in Arica was the kind of hubbub and disorder that confounds language skills. It is possible to either take a bus, which is incredibly slow, or a faster taxi. We wanted to get to Arequipa that night instead of staying in the border town of Tacna, so our option was to hire a taxi. But it's impossible to hire your own private taxi to cross the border, as the taxi drivers prefer to cram as many people as they can into their rickety cars. When we finally realized the situation and managed to find a driver for the price we preferred, I was a little uncertain if this was a legitimate business or a robbery ruse. Getting in the back of a taxicab anywhere in South America is always a bit of a risk, and this taxi already had 3 young men shoved in the backseat, and Audie and I were to squeeze next to the driver in the front. In a situation like this, I always trust my gut and whisper a "C'est la vie" to the world. I haven't had any trouble yet. The six of us had a jolly hour-or-so ride to the border in the driver's dilapidated sedan. He took us through customs and obviously he had a special permit to drive another few miles to the bus station, where he deposited us.

We immediately knew we were in a new country. It was.....louder....here in Peru. Already there just seemed to be more people, more chaos, and more hustlers. We had no clue how to get to Arequipa, about a 7-hour bus ride away. Luckily it was still early in the morning so we had plenty of time to figure it out. Wandering into the Tacna bus station, one is immediately assaulted by the representatives of the different bus lines and tour agencies. I always ignore the hustlers and search out the quiet person sitting behind a desk. Plus, traveling in Peru one must be aware which is the safe busline to ride for the route you'll be traveling. Certain bus lines are more prone to robberies and assaults. While I'd done my research on this before our trip, I wasn't sure which buses were available from Tacna. Walking into the din of the bus terminal, I immediately gravitated to a little lady sitting behind a glass window at a travel agency, looking bored. I told her what we wanted, and she ushered us into her quiet office, where we were immediately set at ease by her wonderful Peruvian hospitality and friendly conversation. We bought our bus tickets through her, and as we had a couple of hours to spare before the bus left, she offered us the back room of her office to relax in. When she found out it was my birthday that day, she even gave me a small present. Relaxing in her back room, we got to thinking a few days in advance, about getting from Arequipa to Cusco. I knew I wanted to fly this route, so I asked our little lady to help us out with that too. We bought these tickets from her, but she told us that one of us had to go with her to the LAN office in downtown Tacna to pick up the tickets. Audie volunteered to go, and she asked me to take care of her office while they were gone! She sat me down at her computer by her bank-teller style window, and when they left to find a taxi, I settled in for a good half-hour of free internet and emailing....except, I kept getting interrupted. Passengers were constantly talking to me through the window, asking me about prices and tours and bus tickets, assuming it was my travel agency! There were quite a few shocked faces to hear gringa-accented Spanish telling them I didn't work here, and to come back later! But what a fun situation to be in, on my birthday, my first morning in Peru.

About ten minutes after they left, I got an email from Audie! It said simply: "Answer the phone!" A couple minutes later, the phone rang and I answered it: "Buenos dias" and Audie was on the line. He knew I'd be on my email, so he emailed me from the LAN office. He was frantic, claiming he had lost his passport, which was needed to pick up the airplane tickets. Did he leave it in the office, perhaps? I checked the back room and his bags quickly, and it wasn't there. When I returned to the phone, I knocked some papers off the señora's desk, and there was his passport! She had needed it to reserve our tickets, and had forgotten it there. I was able to read the passport numbers to Audie on the phone, and they let him have the tickets. And I told him to hurry back, as we only had 20 minutes before our bus left!

The bus ride to Arequipa was fairly uneventful, except for the other tourists we sat next to on the bus who happened to be from, of all places, New Caledonia. We spent a good time swapping traveling tales with them. When we arrived in Arequipa it was pouring rain and dark. We had no hotel reservation, but I knew of a couple of places around the main plaza that I was interested in, so we found a taxi (after much haggling over the price...I knew what a correct price should be after a long "Intro to Peru" visit with my Peruvian friend Jorge in New Jersey before leaving on the trip. Many thanks, Jorge!) and we stayed at the first hotel the taxi driver dropped us at: Casablanca Hostal, right on the main plaza, with the gorgeous sillar (off-white volcanic rock) architecture that Arequipa is famous for.

Chile: A Newfound Love

2008-12-12T20:44:00.007-09:00

It was tough to say goodbye to Chile. Although I was excited to move on to Peru, which would be another new country for me, I had grown quite attached to Chile during our two weeks there. I hadn't expected to feel this way! Truthfully, before our trip started, I wasn't as excited about going to Chile as I was to go to Peru. Certainly, Patagonia (where we didn't get a chance to go on this trip) and the Atacama seemed interesting enough, but through my reading and research about Chile before departing, the culture in Chile just didn't seem as vibrant as that of Peru's. Our trip to Chile was planned primarily as a business trip. Peru was to be the interesting portion of our travels.

Boy....was I deceived. Chile has a charm all its own.

I wasn't ignorant about Chile. My bachelor's degree was in Latin American Studies with a focus on literature. One of the authors I focused on for my thesis was the Chilean writer Maria Luisa Bombal. I'm a big fan of Pablo Neruda and Isabel Allende, and I knew well the turbulent political history of Chile. But still, Chile was an unknown to me.

Here are a few random thoughts about the Chile I grew to love:

What I liked most about Chile is this: Chile is real. Chile exists for Chileans. This is an increasingly rare characteristic in these days of global, mass-market tourism. Chile does not try to sell itself. It does not parade its culture, or nature, or lifestyles to earn the almighty tourist dollar (or peso). Never once in Chile were we asked for a hand-out or hustled to take some kind of tour. We would soon meet with the exact opposite situation in Peru. Now, Chile is wealthier than Peru, that is true, so there is not as much poverty creating desperate situations. But still, in Chile, there was something else going on. I never felt like a tourist in Chile; I felt like a traveler.

One thing I noticed was that Chileans were not as gregarious or extroverted as residents of other Latin American countries I've traveled to. They were more reserved, and only rarely did people inquire where we were from. Not to say the Chileans weren't friendly....they certainly were, and exceedingly polite, but there was a reserved and introverted nature that I noticed, and was curious about. I thought it might be a consequence of the Pinochet regime. A few weeks after returning to the states, I had the good fortune to be listening to the Diane Rehm Show on NPR one morning when her guest happened to be the Chilean writer Antonio Scarmeta. He is most famous for his novel Il Postino, which was made into a wonderful movie (The Postman). The show was about his latest book, and about his homeland, Chile. Diane Rehm was taking questions from her listeners so I called in! My question, about Chileans' introversion due to Pinochet, got picked, and I was so happy to hear Señor Scarmeta's answer. He said first, that it was an excellent question and that he wished he had an hour's time just to address that one topic. He said yes, that the Pinochet regime had dampened Chileans' natural effusiveness and extroversion. They lost their natural spontaneity. This terrible time had made them cautious and more prone to speak slowly, and to use diminutives in their speech. This was very interesting to me because I had noticed all of this while traveling in Chile, but I hadn't met any Chilean I felt comfortable broaching such a topic with. I was thrilled to have this opportunity to talk with Mr. Scarmeta.

I loved the Atacama Desert; the best stargazing on the planet; the criollo horses with their fig and apricot trees in their pastoral paradise; Valparaíso and its tango bars; the low-key and friendly Chilean people; the goofy viscachas and demanding alpacas; and the striking contrast of the largest ocean on the planet abutting one of the driest places on earth. Chile is a land of extremes, and I loved it.

Back to the sea

2008-11-14T17:52:00.011-09:00

After a couple of days of dizzying high alpine exploring and its accompanying altitude sickness, we descended once again to the sea. Leaving behind the llamas and alpacas, the verdant valleys with Andean geese and giant coots, snow-capped volcanoes, and Aymara speaking villagers, we again entered the sea of sand, the unbelievable expanse of brown. Back to the Atacama Desert, and its weirdly wonderful sandscapes.

The picture below is of a tractor, pulling some kind of wagon behind him. Off to his corn field? I don't think so! Where is he going?

Below, that speck out there is me, having a grand time making sand angels! You can see my footprints in the sand, leading to my body.

How I loved this expanse! Here is where you can feel your soul set free. The soft sand cradled my body, the sun gently warmed me, and the endless blue sky and the endless sand set my mind free of distractions. As is often said, here in the desert you can hear yourself think. It's quiet. There is only you and the earth, nothing in between. And lots of space! It was an exquisite meditation to be here; a blissful experience.

And these amazing oasis valleys. I've shown pictures of these valleys before on this journal, but here is one again, because I adore them: the contrast of the brown and green is so striking. All thanks to Andean snowmelt.

In a matter of minutes, we traveled from the endless, desolate sand, to this:

Orchids! Flowers galore! Profuse gardens and exquisite fragrances!

Our Alaskan naturalist friend Barbara, living in Putre, gave us directions to a special not-too-secret spot of hers: a beautiful hummingbird garden, in the village of Azapa, just south of Arica. She told us the family who owned the land had converted their olive groves to this splendid garden about 20 years ago, and planted many specific flowers that attract hummingbirds. It's a must-visit on the itinerary of any birders or hummingbird lovers visiting Chile, or just those who want to be amazed at the beauty and life that can be sustained in this arid wasteland.

The garden was about six acres of winding paths, amongst exuberant and riotous vegetation. All paths had many shady resting spots, like the one above. Our guide, the teenage daughter of the proprietors, could name every flower and identified many hummingbirds and birds who visit her earthly paradise. Once I overcame my shock at finding this Garden of Eden in the middle of the Atacama Desert, I asked the girl when was the last time it rained. "Nunca," she replied. Never. This 16-year-old girl had never seen or experienced rain. Now, I know a lot of people who have never seen snow, but....rain? Unbelievable. This beautiful garden was being carefully watered from the melting snow of the Andes, about 100 miles away.
Later that day, back in Arica, we found a small hostel to stay in for the night run by a New Zealander named Ross and his Chilean wife. This was to be our last night in Chile before crossing the border to Peru, and we got a lot of tips from Ross on how to proceed with this potentially challenging and confusing border crossing. Just to be safe, before dinner Audie got an extremely trimming haircut and beardcut, to look as presentable and less like an outlaw and revolutionary as possible. South Americans, especially border agents, do not always look favorably upon what can be standard hairstyles for Alaskan males, namely beards.

Parque Nacional Lauca

2008-09-11T15:26:00.022-08:00

Most folks who travel to Chile, fly in to Santiago and immediately head south to the much-touted Patagonia. Few travel north into the Atacama Desert, and fewer make it to far north-eastern Chile, hugging the Bolivian border. What a shame! This area of Chile was one of the most interesting, least-touristed, and photogenic places we visited on this trip to South America. The big draw of this region is the Lauca National Park. National parks in South America are not like national parks in the US. Denali, here in Alaska for example, is all about crowds: crowds on the buses, standing in line for tickets, and the "Glitter Gulch" hotel strip outside the park that caters to its crowds. National parks in South America are quiet: they don't get many visitors. In Colombia, where I lived a short while, it was obvious why: guerrillas claimed the parks as their own land, so a visit to nature would end up in a kidnapping ransom. But in the rest of SA, who knows? Lack of public transport to visit the parks is probably one reason, but whatever it may be, for the visitor they're a wonderful break from the chaotic cities and from crowds. We spent two days visiting Lauca and only saw a handful of other travelers.

The village of Putre was our resting stop for our two days in Lauca. When we arrived in the evening in a dense fog, our first task was to find the local gringa resident: Barbara Knapton, an ex-Alaskan who operates a birding and nature tour company called Alto Andino Nature Tours. We hoped to stay at her bed-and-breakfast but she had run out of propane to heat the apartment, and even these Alaskans needed some heat that night: it wasn't 30 below, probably 40 above, but that cold, wet high Andean wind seeps into your bones and heat was going to be necessary. However, we spent a good few hours with Barbara, hearing her life story and her path to an isolated Andean village, and getting good tips on what to see in Lauca the next day.

As we were checking into our hotel, we realized we were almost out of pesos and learned that the bank was only open on Monday, the day we were to head back to the coast. Gathering all our pesos together, we ate at the cheapest restaurant in town and had our first cup of mate de coca (coca tea) to ward off the altitude sickness we could already feel coming on. We knew we were in a very different part of Chile. It felt very Bolivian and people were speaking Aymara, a far cry from the tango bars of Valparaiso. That night we slept under 3 thick wool blankets, and woke up early to begin our adventure in Lauca.

And what a fantastic time we had in this altiplano paradise! Here are some scenes:

Such a spectacular landscape! Lauca is situated between 10,000 and around 21,000 feet. Snowcapped volcanos, altiplano scenery, lakes dotted with flamingos, highland villages, and some pretty strange animals:

The vicuna, of which there were thousands! We asked Barbara if we had a good chance to see any vicuna when we visited the park, and she guaranteed us there would be no problem. We were surprised, because as nature guides in Alaska we certainly can't "guarantee" that someone will see a moose or a caribou. But she was right! The vicuna are wild relatives of the llama and have a very inspiring history. In the early 1970s there were barely a thousand left in Chile, so the Chilean government stepped in and now there are over 25,000. They were everywhere, so much so that I stopped taking pictures of them. They're beautiful, delicate animals, and we certainly hope their success story continues.

And then there were these:

Viscacha! A most unusual creature, of which there were also thousands, and almost so tame you could pet them. Darn cute little things. Something I would expect to find in Tolkien's writings. Perhaps like a three-year-old's imaginative and over-the-top drawing of a rabbit, come to life. Except, it isn't a rabbit. Not even a member of the rabbit family. Its closest relative is the chinchilla. They would pop in and out amongst the rocks, or just sit, meditatively, in the middle of a field, three feet away from me, posing for pictures.

And then there is this plant! Once again, nothing is as it seems in northern Chile. So what is it? At first glance, I thought it was some kind of exuberant lichenous growth on a rock. Upon inspecting it, above, I was sure I was correct. The plant formed quite a dense mat, as hard as rock when I knocked on it. They were scattered here and there in Lauca, fairly abundant. The viscachas would hop on them in the various rock piles. I was drawn to the fantastic color and the sensuous curves: the plant made quite a striking presence in the high altiplano. Later that evening over dinner as I was relating my love of this lichen to Barbara, our Alaskan naturalist friend in Putre, she corrected my presumptuous lichenous assumption. The beautiful green bulbous mass is not a lichen suffocating a rock, she informed me. The plant is called a llareta (Laretia compacta) and is a member of the….carrot family! If you break it open, which you need a mattock for as it’s so hard, you see a mass of very dense stalks. Apparently the Aymara use the llareta for fuel.

And we made lots of new friends! This is Loli, who said hello to us every day as we entered and left the park.

On the last day, we finally realized why she was so friendly: she wanted chippies! We'd roll down the window and yell "Chippies!" and Loli and some of her friends would come running up to the car. I know, I know: you're not supposed to feed wildlife. But these guys aren't wild; they're domesticated llamas and alpacas. Some farmers continue to have grazing rights in the park. Chippies!

As we got out of the car to snap some pictures, this young feller came tearing down a hillside with his lady friends. Leaving them on the other side of the road, he raced across to our car, right up to Audie who was standing outside. After a few minutes of manly-man posturing and strutting, as well as leaping on Audie’s back trying to mount him, the guy realized Audie wasn’t a threat to his harem and allowed a quick nose pat.

Hey, we could be out on the Denali Highway! The contrast from our prior days in the Atacama Desert is extraordinary. That’s definitely one thing I love about travel in South America, travel in the Andes: the extremes that one can encounter from one day, or hour, to the next!

Where else can you find flamingos and snow, together, in the same picture??!!

And here we are at the top of the world! Lago Chungara at 15,000 feet, one of the world’s highest lakes. And behind it, the most perfect looking volcano, Volcan Parinacota. Bolivia is just on the other side of the lake….I was tempted to cross the border. We’d been hearing wonderful stories about travel in Bolivia, but suddenly, this struck:

Saroche! I was having trouble breathing myself, but Audie got hit hard by altitude sickness. We'd been doing a lot of hiking, but still trying to take things easy. However, 15,000 feet is awfully high. As we were resting by the side of the road, a Bolivian man stopped and gave Audie some rubbing alcohol to inhale. Didn’t work. So we slowly trundled back to our village, Putre. After a few hours of rest in the hotel room, Audie was still in really bad shape, so I ventured out to find Barbara and ask for her help. She said he needed oxygen, so I walked Audie to the local clinic. Every village has a dog pack, as did Putre, and this pack had attached themselves to us during our stay here. The dogs followed us through the streets and even into the clinic. Inside, a cadre of young, bustling, pretty Chilean nurse interns fussed over Audie: taking his temperature, rubbing his forehead with cool rags, and administering oxygen. I’m not sure if it was the fastidious attention of all the pretty young ladies, or the medical oxygen, but shortly he was feeling better than ever!

We loved the quirky, beautiful world of northern Chile!

To the altiplano

2008-07-11T11:31:00.003-08:00

Our long bus ride through the endless Chilean Atacama ended in the fairly pleasant seaside city of Arica, where we enjoyed outdoor cafes while being assaulted by wandering musicians who refused to take their screechy accordion and out-of-tune guitar from our table until we paid up. By this time we were pretty excited to leave the brown, sandy vistas of the prior days and head into the high country. Arica was our base for renting a car and escaping to the altiplano. After filling our lungs full of air, we steered our way towards the high peaks of Lauca National Park.

Leaving Arica, we drove through a surreal landscape:

A contemplative spot

There is effectively no vegetation here as we travel away from the coast and up to the highlands. We’re still in the dry land, where it just doesn’t rain. So no vegetation to admire, except these big guys! About the same size as your average saguaro. They’re called the candelabra cactus. There’s no rain, so how does it grow? With this:

Fog. What the Chileans call the camanchaca, that rolls in from the ocean and cloaks the hillsides. These candelabra cacti get all the moisture they need from fog. Pretty amazing adaptation!

Both of us love rocks, Audie especially, with his background, so when we started to see these, we pulled the car over to investigate. What causes this erosion?

I'll just quote Audie on this one: "Wind ablation, per se, wouldn't suffice to cause these peculiar shapes. Nonetheless, with all the rocks in this area showing erosion oriented in this direction, something like that must be occurring.

What has happened is that these rocks all contain minute quantities of sulfides. When the fog-bearing camanchaca rolls in from the Pacific, and condenses on the west-facing rock surfaces, a small amount of sulfuric acid forms. North-, south-, and east-facing surfaces receive less fog and thus remain relatively less degraded by this acid. So: we can call this fog erosion!"

As we climbed higher and higher in elevation, the roads got really crazy:

And because this particular route to Lauca National Park just also happens to be Bolivia's only access route to the sea, we shared the road with half-suicidal Bolivian truckers who like passing on curves, dense fog be damned. There is a Spanish saying "Si Dios quiere" or "God willing....I'll make it around this curve. God willing I'll pass these stupid gringo drivers without slamming into the front of my compadre's rig." There were also the usual traffic jams:

Before we arrived in the village of Putre, our night's destination, we took a side trip to the village of Socoroma, population 15, if even that. This place was a mystery for us: a fairly good-sized village, many streets, with enough buildings to comprise a population of a few hundred, but something wasn't quite right.

As we entered the village, we had glimpses of our first terraced hillsides, these covered with oregano. Two farmers were busy in one field as we stopped to observe a hummingbird. But as we entered the village proper, this is what we saw:

Dead streets. Boarded-up houses. No stores. Nothing but more surrealism.

As we continued to drive around the empy streets, we eventually came to the town square, where two children and their mother were playing soccer. These three, plus the two farmers, and another man herding sheep were the only people we saw. The children waved and smiled at us, friendly enough, and then disappeared. The town square, below, looked well-maintained and cared for, but where were all the people? What happened to them? We asked people in Putre when we arrived, but couldn't get a straight answer. It's a mystery. A pretty little village, with a few resilient residents surrounded by silent streets.

And I thought I knew desert!

2008-07-10T20:29:00.001-08:00

As difficult as it was to leave the Hacienda los Andes (I missed the horses for days!), I was very excited about our upcoming journey: into the Atacama! At my very core, I'm a desert rat and always will be. I love deserts and want to travel through every one. I've dreamed of the Atacama for years, although unlike the Sahara and the Gobi, I hadn't seen very many pictures of it, so didn't know exactly what to expect.

I imagined:

vast stretches of sand: and got it!

little to no vegetation: got it!

desolation and loneliness: got it!

silence: got it!

brown, brown, and brown: got it!

I knew what to expect in a desert, after all I was born and raised in the Sonoran Desert. But what I didn't realize is that the Sonoran Desert is a rainforest compared to the Atacama, where some of the sparse vegetation never receives a drop of rain in its life, but whose moisture is delivered exclusively by the fog that often rolls in from the sea.

What surprised me most about the Atacama:

How seemingly endless it is

Get out a map of South America. Put a finger just south of the Peru-Ecuador border. Put another finger just north of La Serena, Chile. ALL of that land, primarily straddling the coast, is desert. Once you start driving it, you feel it will never end. You travel through lands where rain has never fallen in recorded history, and after just a few days you forget that dark moisture-laden clouds can obscure the sun, that air can feel moist, that the earth can feel soft to walk upon, not hard and full of cracks.

Why it exists

This place of no water exists because of the largest body of water on the planet, the Pacific Ocean, and primarily one current in this ocean: the Humboldt Current. When the winds from the west, laden with moisture, hit this extremely cold current of water from Antarctica, the clouds drop their moisture before it ever gets to land. This desert exists because of Antarctica...how amazing is that?

The presence of humans

Nitrate ghost towns (in picture above), ancient stone drawings in the sands, coastal cities that suddenly emerge from the brown vastness.

The absolute silence

More than Alaska, even, because there are no birds, no animals, no insects. It's a silence to get lost in, and love. A silence where you can hear yourself think, hear yourself breathe. You don't feel small in this desert, you feel big, because you feel like the only living being in the world.

My inner cowgirl

2008-07-09T21:04:00.000-08:00

When I was a little girl growing up in Wickenburg, Arizona, on the weekends I was either trailing after my dad to hunt for gold nuggets, practicing my gold panning skills, or riding a horse. We didn't own any horses as my parents liked to gypsy back and forth between our Minnesota farm and the Sonoran Desert too often to keep large long-lived animals around. But my friends in this cowboy town had horses, and I learned to ride young. I remember when I was about eight years old, my friend and I would take off on her horses, just the two of us, no adults. We'd wander in the desert for hours, until the horses decided it was time to return for supper.

With a desire to revive my inner cowgirl, and for Audie to summon the inner cowboy he never knew he had, we decided to spend some time at Hacienda los Andes, to become real Chilean huasos (or guachos if you're in Argentina)!

Most places to stay look better on the internet, than they do in person, but not Hacienda los Andes. A stunning paradise is what greeted us in the morning:

A Mexican-style hacienda, with the fountain in the courtyard, the parrots in the trees, the sun in the sky, and nary a cloud: just what the doctor ordered for these winter weary Alaskans. If I didn't live in Alaska, I'd want to live here. Lucky is what the owners are, and blessed is how I felt to spend just a few days in this very special spot.

The Hacienda is a small, intimate lodging; there were never more than ten guests there during our stay. Most, like us, had come to meet, and ride, the horses.

And these were new horses for me. Not Mustangs, not Thoroughbreds, Palominos, Paints, or Arabians. These were Criollo horses, direct descendants of the horses the Spainards brought with them. They are very muscular and hardy, powerful, sweet and affectionate. It was instant love.

The Hacienda comprises about 1,000 acres, which includes the beautiful Mexican ranch style buildings, stables, and extensive gardens; the pastures and alfalfa fields for the horses; surrounding hills of desert; and a fantastic riparian environment - a small, swift stream with accompanying lush vegetation flowing through the property, with a trail that follows its flow, complete with swimming holes (swimsuits optional), camping sites, and hidden coves.

The Hacienda is, it can't be stated enough times, a veritable Paradise. We ended up spending more nights here than we had planned, for a total of five, because we couldn't tear ourselves away from the place.

We took many hikes in the desert. We enjoyed the plethora of fruit and nut trees: apricot, fig, apple, cherry, lime, orange, pomegrante, avocado, walnut, and pecan, most of which were overflowing with their produce. We'd walk around the property, plucking an apricot here, a fig there, constantly snacking on the abundant offerings. We went skinny dipping on Noodie Island in the river. Napped in hammocks. Enjoyed wonderful breakfasts of homebaked bread and locally made goat cheese, and dinners of good food followed by hours and hours of stories and conversation, with candles, stars, and the Zorba the Greek-ish owner, a German who sailed around the world for decades. He has traveled to nearly every spot on the globe, and finally chose this spot in Chile as the most perfect place to live.

We took midnight hikes, with wine, to view the stars: and what a magnificent sky it is! With some of the clearest skies on the planet (many of the world's largest telescopes are in this valley), and not atmospheric disturbances, the stars are out by the millions and they don't twinkle like we're used to. They just shine, bright and strong.

Following are some photos of our stay:

These horses live an ideal life: beautiful, extensive pastures with fruit trees to nibble on, and a flowing spring to drink from.

The dining room of the Hacienda, although we usually ate outside as the weather there is perfect year-round.

Wrangler getting ready for a trail ride, and resting saddles.

On one of our trail rides, we visited a goat farmer, Don Camilo, who lives high in the desert hills. The above two pictures show his farm, and sitting at the table is himself on the left, and our German host on the right. He invited us in to share some precious water.

Cheers to a great trail ride!

And finally: a mom, with her newborn, and our host, in an act of ultimate trust.

On our way to the Hacienda

2008-07-08T07:48:00.000-08:00

After three great days in Valparaiso, we traveled north by bus to the beach resort town of La Serena. Traveling along the coast, the scenery is quite spectacular, and it would have been an extremely relaxing and enjoyable experience if we had been spared the nine hours of Spanish-dubbed Chinese action flicks that were played on the small TV screens at eardrum bursting volume. Not that there was much dialogue to dub as the soundtrack consisted mostly of grunts, screams, and wails.

When we reserved the bus, we were told it would take six hours from Valpo to La Serena. Actual travel time was nine hours, so we arrived in La Serena in the late afternoon. Our final destination for the day was not this pretty city, however, but a horse ranch high in the Andes that was 3 or 4 hours from La Serena. We got ourselves to a rental car agency and out of town by 6:00.

The drive from La Serena to the village of Vicuna (there is supposed to a squiggle over the n. I can't figure out how to do these marks and other accent marks on this blogger program. Sorry!) was very pretty, passing by pisco vineyards. We were entering the Elqui Valley, an enchanting expanse of green nestled within the very brown expanse of the Andes. We would have liked to linger on this drive, but the Hacienda was many kilometers away, at the end of a rough, dirt road, and we didn't want to arrive there at midnight. Soon after we reached Vicuna, we found the right dirt road that leads south to the Hacienda. And we soon started to climb.

And climb some more, with an endless horizon of brown, dry mountains. The Andes here are very different from the Andes in Colombia, Ecuador, and most of Peru. No glaciers here, no green terraced hillsides, no cloud forests or mist-shrouded peaks. Here, there's no rain. The green valleys are fed by snow melt, while the surrounding hills and peaks are covered with almost dead cacti. It's a surreal landscape!

Our little Peugeot struggled a bit on this very windy, rutty, dusty road and worries that maybe we should have rented the 4x4 cropped up. But with Audie's expert handling, we crossed the highest passes of these quiet, arid mountains and arrived at the quaint village of Hurtado before dark. Hacienda los Andes was just outside the village, and we arrived about 9:30. Our hosts had been waiting for us, and greeted us with a hearty dinner, and some nice conversation, before we quickly retired after our long day of travel. The next day we'd meet the horses!

The best...and the worst...of Valparaiso

2008-07-07T17:16:00.000-08:00

The best:

Cafe Cinzano. This tango club is the Buena Vista Social Club of Valparaiso: men in their 70s, in dapper suits, singing and playing tango with giant smiles on their faces. This is probably the oldest watering hole still operating in Valpo; one book I read said sailors and crooners have been coming here since 1896. A few tourists shared the cramped floor with us, but mostly I saw locals. The food was just average, but the pisco sours and the ambience were exceptional! Definitely the best nightlife experience we had on this trip.

Unfortunately we forgot to bring a camera, so no pictures. But there are some pictures of the gentlemen and the club on our B&B's website, The Yellow House .

Street Art

The televisions were in someone's front yard, and the writing says "Apaga la tele, vive tu vida", which translates "Turn off the TV, live your life." A belief I heartily embrace, hence, it warranted a picture.

These guys were painted on a door, at the end of an alley. It made me do a double-take!

Artic doggies

Definitely what surprised us the most in Valparaiso were the presence (or being so far from the North, the plethora) of malamutes and huskies that roamed Valpo's streets homeless. Here's a little guy who saw Audie's beard and ancestral memories of Alaska were awakened. The two were engaged in a good howling session as I snapped this pic. The only explanation we can think of? Back to the goldminers again, the Klondike refugees, who brought their goldpanning companions on the boats with them. The dogs either got off the ships when the miners decided to stay put in Chile, or were kicked off in Valpo by the captains. Either way, the dogs survived here in this hot, port city. We could have collected ourselves a dog team here. I was tempted to take this guy back to Alaska, but not with the almost two more months of traveling we had to do.

Riotous house paint

It's like this, in every residential neighborhood. Part of the whole pizzazz of the place!

The worst:

Yup, that's dinner!

What is it? It's called chorrillana: a heaping platter of...mostly...french fries, with hot dog chunks and melted cheese mixed in, topped with some fried eggs. This is a Chilean specialty, and now we knew why Chile is never on a world gastronomy tour and why there are no Chilean restaurants outside Chile. You know a dish is bad when I (me, the ex-vegetarian, the health-nut) am diving for the hot dog bites!

Where did we eat it? At the restaurant Mastodonte, named for the white mastodon enshrined on the wall behind me. This is one of the most popular restaurants in town.

Valparaiso

2008-07-06T18:29:00.000-08:00

"Valparaiso es un monton, un racimo de casa locas"....Pablo Neruda

I have a weakness for rundown port cities, specifically for the faded grandeur of Latin American ports. Cartagena de las Indias, Barranquilla, & Veracruz are a few favorites of mine. I love their decaying charm and their bonhomie. They are old-fashioned, yet hedonistic, clinging to a romantic past that never quite dies.

Valparaiso - La Perla del Pacifico (Pearl of the Pacific) - has enraptured my imagination for years. Home of Pablo Neruda; place of steep hillsides and colorful houses; known throughout the world as one of the most charming, bohemian cities in all Latin America. Valparaiso was the first stop for ships coming around Cape Horn: many would-be California goldminers, and Klondike refugees ended up in Valpo, another reason it's always captured my imagination. Valparaiso was a thriving port until the Panama Canal eliminated traffic coming around the Horn. Valpo is still a busy port (though not Chile's biggest), and there is a significant Navy presence.

The city encircles a small bay, where sunbathers and shipping containers compete for prime beach space.

With its alluring personality, colorful facade, and incredibly rich history, I knew we had to enjoy many days here.

We decided to spend no time in Chile's capital city, so after our arrival and a painless pass through Santiago airport´s customs and immigration, Audie and I hopped on a bus outside the airport and proceeded to one of the city´s main bus terminals, where with three minutes to spare, we got on a bus to Valparaiso.

We passed through the serene, vineyard-clad Casablanca Valley and after two hours arrived to a very much hungover and tired Valparaiso. We arrived after one of the world's most festive and wild New Year's Eve parties: confetti covering every square inch of sidewalk and pavement; drunks drooling and supine on the streets; revelers just waking up from their park benches. Some diehard carousers were still carrying bottles, singing indecipherable tunes, and encouraging us to drop our bags and dance a new year's waltz.

The sudden heat hit us as we were carrying our bags and backpacks through the crowd of still merry drunks, so we hopped on a bus and hoped it would take us to where we needed to go: Ascensor Artilleria. Valpo is famous for its ascensores, or funiculars. There must be ten or more in the city. Rattling, wobbling, hastily hammered together little wooden boxes, which can hold about 10 persons each, trundling up the hillsides.

I had booked a B&B in Valpo for our three nights there, called The Yellow House which is next to the aforementioned Ascentor Artilleria. We asked our fellow bus passengers where we should get off and they directed us to the exact spot to go. Very friendly people, but whoa!!!....is that Spanish? I may have had seven years of formal Spanish training, and spent a small chunk of my life living in Latin America, but this couldn't be Spanish becuase I could barely understand it! I had heard that Chilean Spanish is difficult, especially when I'm used to the crisp, clear Spanish of Bogota, but both Audie and I felt that years of Spanish training had disappeared. We hoped our ears would get used to it!

After getting settled in our room, we attempted our first excursion in the city, upon which we promptly got lost and I got one of the worst sunburns of my life. We wandered for five hours under the strong southern sun, discovered the Gran Brentana street of old mansions with parrots squawking in the back yards, and we visited the Esmeralda, a real treat for Audie. An avid reader of Patrick O'Brian's Aubrey-Maturin series, Audie was thrilled to take the helm of a ship that stars so prominently in Chile's history and in O'Brian's novels. O'Brian's character Captain Jack Aubrey is based on the extraordinary life of Thomas Cochrane, a Scottish officer who, while Commander-in-Chief of Chile's navy, captured the Spanish flagship Esmeralda, which was a major factor in Chile gaining its independence. The Esmeralda now sits in Valparaiso's harbor when she's not out on training missions. She is the second tallest and longest sailing ship in the world. The Esmeralda is the favored beauty of the Chilean navy and is adored by thousands of Chilean visitors when she's in port.....as well as by naval fiction fanatics from Alaska.....

Valparaiso was named a Unesco World Heritage Site in 2002, which belies the fact that the town, truthfully, is a bit of a dump. A charming, authentic, and vibrant city, but very gritty. You don't visit Valparaiso for chic shopping and galleries, for perfectly preserved architecture in genteel neighborhoods. Many buildings are closed up and behind the colorful houses on the hills shantytowns are growing. No gentrification here, and Gracias a Dios for this! Valparaiso is not fake, telling tourists a story so they'll hand over a peso. Valparaiso is real, living a little off its glorified past, but still real: a place of poetry, tangos, and sailors.

It's just the beginning

2008-07-05T19:51:00.000-08:00

So innocent, so fresh-faced, so full of anticipation and expectant glee! So much energy and enthusiasm. And so unaware of what they were getting themselves into....

This was our New Year's Eve flight, a direct flight from Newark to Santiago de Chile, complete with complimentary champagne to ring in 2008!