Jenny of the Jungle

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

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

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

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

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

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!

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.