The next morning we took a boat tour of the Ballestas Islands, home to many sea lions, penguins, pelicans, and peruvian boobies. On the sandy dune mainland, there was this symbol carved into the bedrock called the candelabra. It is similar to the Nasca lines which can only be viewed in their entirety by plane. Since the symbol is carved in the rock, the winds actually sweep the sand out of it keeping it clean and visible.
These are the peruvian boobies I mentioned, a cousin of the Galapagos blue-footed boobies.
Here´s a sea lion striking a pose for our cameras.
Penguins of the Ballestas.
From Paracas, we took a bus to Ica then on to Arequipa, the jumping off point for our three day trek into the Colca Canyon. We took a bus from Arequipa about 5 hours to Cabanaconde, a small town with hostels for hikers passing through. From Cabanaconde we left in the morning to descend 3500 ft to the bottom of the canyon. 
We stayed at a lodge with huts made of reeds with beds on stone foundations. Doesn't sound that comfortable, but we slept great after soaking in the hot springs next to the river and eating a hot meal. The lodge was located at the junction of two rivers. I found the cats that lived at the lodge, or did they find me? This is the trail we hiked out of the canyon on day 3 of the hike. It took me about 3 hours, but others did it in closer to 2 hours. A couple of us decided to hire a mule to carry our backpacks to give us a chance to climb out of the canyon. The locals kept trying to get me to hire a ride on a mule, but I stubbornly declined. I'm glad that I did, because it was extremely rewarding to reach the top on my own. Here's everyone taking a breather at a rest stop on the bus ride back from the canyon. We'd hiked up and out of the canyon that morning. We spent a few more days in Arequipa after our hike. One night there was a spectacular sunset. A fellow volunteer taught me how to carve a pineapple just like the Bolivians do (thanks, Kilo!). The first time it took me about a half an hour. It turns out to be easier on more ripe pineapples.From Arequipa, the group split into two trips- one headed to Cuzco to visit Macchu Picchu, and the other to get to our sites in Bolivia by the 10th. I headed out a little earlier than Mark because I knew I´d need the time to finish the mural. He stayed in La Paz and was able to attend some Cholita wrestling as you may have read about in National Geographic. I took the bus from La Paz to Cochabamba in order to get an earlier flight to Tarija, and we saw this banner at the bus terminal. "The 8th nacional congress of the Bolivian movement of solidarity with Cuba."
Since I needed to get our belongings to the Tarija regional office by October 10, I only had four days in El Puente to finish the mural and sell our belongings. It was a rather stressful time and by the end I had a pretty strong head cold. Each day I got up and worked on the mural until I couldn't stand the hot sun. Then I went back to our place for lunch, took a short nap if I could, and spent the afternoon sorting our things into three piles: things to give away, things to sell, and things I was going to take with us. On the first day I sold a few pieces of furniture to a neighbor, and the word soon got out that everything must go. People were almost constantly knocking on the door to come in and see what I had to give away or sell. It was a little disturbing to feel like everyone was looking at me with dollar signs in their eyes (or Bolivianos in their eyes, I suppose). I was told many times that I should have informed people earlier that I was selling our things. At first it was really annoying and then I turned it into a joke so I could deal with it better. I told people that I should have hired a taxi with a speaker strapped to the top to make an announcement throughout the town, just like they do to announce public events and news from time to time. People thought that was pretty funny and then they weren't as mad that they hadn't known earlier about the sale going on. At the end of each day I made sure to visit with someone from town that I really cared about and who cared about me. Most nights this meant having tea with the Chambi family next door or with my landlady Nely. I've ended up sponsoring Adonia Chambi's ring for her high school graduation taking place in December. Since I won't be there, I will send the ring in my stead so that she'll have a memoir of our friendship. She was the girl who watched Salta while we were out of town. I helped her with her English homework frequently and she and I had many conversations about world cultures. She loved to watch Hindi movie musicals.
Here I am with the art teacher, Elviz, and the senior class of Colegio San Miguel. They were the main students that I worked with on the two murals in El Puente.
The flag border ended up being a lot of work but turned out beautiful. There were a couple empty spots towards the end so I filled them with non-national flags.
Go Ags! This is the UC Davis emblem.
Finally, the new flag of the indigenous people of the Andes, called the Wipala.
This is what the mural looked like after I finished. I left clear varnish with the art teacher with instructions on how to seal the mural against sun and weather damage. I sure hope they do it.
By the time I left El Puente, I was glad to be going. I was literally sick and tired. I cried a bit on the ride out of town, reflecting on how I probably wouldn't see again any time soon those colorful rocks and compassionate people I'd grown to love. It turned out that most of our belongings had already been forwarded to Cochabamba, so I didn't get to pull out useful things like Mark's hiking boots, our tent, or my sleeping bag. But it did save me from having to travel by bus with lots of luggage and I was grateful for that.
We arrived at Lago Colorado right as the sun was setting. If it had been slightly earlier, the strong red color of the lake might have been more visible. We had seen several lakes populated by pink flamingos, which were reminiscent of our hike on the Inca Trail back in July 2007.
On the second night, we stayed near Lago Colorado, slept and ate well, and headed out early to see more lakes and even some bubbling geysers in the ground.On the third and final night of the tour, we stayed at a hotel made of large blocks of salt. It was right on the edge of the Salt Flats. We woke up before dawn to arrive at the Isla de los Pescadores at sunrise.
Here's a relief map of the Salar de Uyuni, which is said to cover 8000 square kilometers of land. It is composed of alternating layers of salt and water, each layer being about 20cm thick. Around the edges are companies that harvest the salt for sale at markets.
At the end of our tour, we took an overnight bus from Uyuni to La Paz. We arranged to hike up Huayna Potosi, a mountain that is claimed to be the easiest 6000+ meter peak to climb. It is less risky because medical evacuation is easier (with La Paz only an hour away by car) than on other more isolated mountains. Also, very little technical experience is necessary to complete the climb.
Here we are being dropped off at the lower base camp: Refugio Huayna Potosi. Elevation: 4100m (that's about 13,500 ft).
We arrived at the lower base camp in the late morning and set out after lunch to practice ice climbing and self-arrest on a nearby glacier with crampons and ice axes. Having been to rock climbing gyms in the past, the climbing was pretty straightforward. One of my crampons fell off so I had the opportunity to learn how to climb assisted by a partner below me with an ice axe and how to tighten the crampons onto my boots better. It was pretty fun to learn how to self-arrest. You roll over onto your stomach and jam the axe into the ice, thus halting your slide down the mountain. 
Sunset at high base camp: 5400m (over 17,500 ft)
Several of us had resting heart rates of 130 bpm at the high base camp while others were in the 80s. I decided to take altitude medication in the middle of the night when I woke up with a pounding headache. The refuge was a metal building with 6 thin mattresses on the floor for the 9 of us. It was remarkably warm, although the moisture in the air condensed on the ceiling and was dripping on us all night. We got up at 12:30am, had a quick cup of coca tea, and headed out. I had arranged for my own guide and a slightly earlier departure since I was the slowest hiker of the group (no doubt related to my ridiculous heart rate). Everyone else was with a guide and one other hiker. We all wore headlamps and carried empty backpacks so that we could take off layers of clothing as we heated up. Although I know it was my body that carried me up that mountain, I am incredibly grateful to my guide for the support he gave me along the way. Since the rope that was attached to my climbing harness was attached to him the whole way, he was able to lend me some of his will at times when I had little of my own. This was particularly helpful during the last 100 meters of ascent when my body was telling me how nice it would be to take a quick nap in the rising sun to give my legs a rest. If my guide hadn't pulled on that rope I might not have made it all the way to the top. Thank you Gualberto!
Mark and I had very different experiences on this hike, as you'll hear in his post. On the way down from the summit to the high base camp, I had a surprise opportunity to use our training when my guide was teaching me a new way to use the ice axe to stabilize myself. I didn't do it right the first time, and ended up sliding for a few long milliseconds before I performed a five-star self-arrest.
I was a little worried that doing this would somehow get Mark addicted to mountaineering. However, after we'd gotten all the way back to the lower base camp, Mark commented, "If that was the easiest 6000m peak, then I'm not sure I want to do the second easiest!" My mind was put at ease. Although this was an amazing experience, I wouldn't want to do it every weekend.
On our last day in La Paz, we visited the ruins at Tiwanaku. Here we are with the Sun Gate, thought to be a calender designed by a now extinct population from 200AD.
After both of us returned from Tiwanaku with sunburned faces, we took a bus to Cochabamba to break Roque out of the veterinarian's office he'd been living in for a couple weeks. With Mark's GRE test dates fast approaching, he flew to Tarija to get a taxi to Salta, Argentina where he could find a bus for the long haul to Buenos Aires. I stayed another week in Cochabamba waiting for Roque's immigration paperwork to get finished. After several failed attempts to have Roque taken home by others, we decided to take him directly home to make things more simple. We'd also built up a fair amount of souvenirs and other items not useful for being on the road that needed to get home. So we found me a flight from Santa Cruz, Bolivia to Miami and on to Buenos Aires. I was going to ship Roque from Miami, but then my parents offered some of their frequent flyer miles to get me all the way to California for a short visit. I couldn't pass that opportunity up, so we booked it. Then I booked the short flight from Cochabamba to Santa Cruz for the day before the voyage. Roque and I watch Barack Obama be elected on CNN from our hostal room in Cochabamba. The next evening I checked my luggage and Roque onto the Aerosur flight and was in Santa Cruz within the hour. When I arrived in Santa Cruz, all of my luggage came through, except for Roque's crate. So I asked the luggage staff to see where he was. After 10 minutes or so, a tall man with a yellow reflective vest came into luggage claim and said there was a problem. He showed me the empty crate that Roque had been traveling in. "No hay gato," he said casually. My first reaction was to laugh. For those who have lived in Bolivia for an extended period of time, this would seem like a typical Bolivian experience. But despite my familiarity with Bolivian travel conditions, I was in denial that he was gone. I asked for an explanation, and they said he must've escaped from the crate during the flight, because when they opened the cargo hold upon arrival, he jumped out and ran into the nearby field. I asked them to let me out onto the tarmack to call for him and they directed me to the security office where I was told it would not be possible. I described Roque to the team of crew members in vests and they set out to find him. Within the hour, the group came marching triumphantly into the baggage claim with a little orange ball of fur. I was so elated that I failed to notice right away that it wasn't Roque. As they approached, I realized they were holding a kitten that fit the description I'd given them, but it wasn't Roque. I hated having to tell them it wasn't him because they were so excited, but their response was that I should take the kitten anyway. I insisted that I wanted OUR cat back, and they returned to look for him again. I waited as other flights arrived and eventually was kicked out of the baggage claim area when there were no more arrivals. At around 12:30am, the original vest-clad employee came to tell me that I'd been cleared to enter the tarmack to call for the cat. I knew this would be the last step of the search, and was grateful for the opportunity to help and see the situation. We searched underneath the vehicles, scanned the surrounding fields, and laid down on the ground to look under the maintenance shack constructed of boxcars up on cement blocks. We lured out a cat that looked very similar to Roque, but acted nothing like him. After this disappointment I started really feeling that we'd done everything and that he was too scared to be found, if he were even near where we were searching. Several of the idling plane engines had been turned off to aid our search, but I imagine the team of 8 men calling his name was enough to spook Roque at that point. At around 2:30am, I called off the search and took a taxi 15 minutes into Santa Cruz to a hotel to sleep a few hours before returning to the airport. The decision I faced now was whether I should get on the flight to Miami at 10am. I investigated how much it would cost to delay the trip a few days to have more time to search, and it would have cost more than the original ticket. Having spent a decent amount of money already on boarding Roque and getting his paperwork done twice, plus the indebtedness we'd incurred to others who'd helped along the way, the financial cost far outweighed the low possibility of finding Roque. When I went back to the airport after 4 hours of sleep, I requested to be let back onto the tarmack and was denied. I left Roque's crate and food in the lost and found office and walked to the chain link fence outside where I could see where we'd been searching shortly before. I called Roque's name, cried for a while, made my apologies to him for this turn in his life. Even though I wouldn't be bringing Roque home, I continued the journey to California to see my mom and drop off souvenirs at home. Each time I checked in for a flight or picked up my luggage off a conveyor belt I thought about how Roque was supposed to be there. When I got home it made me sad to see Javier (our cat in the care of my folks) because I knew they would have been good friends. Mark and I contacted the airport staff by phone and email and eventually were told that they hadn't seen Roque for a while. Disposing of Roque's then expired immigration documents was a very symbolic act for us, and very sad. It was interesting to note the phases I went through in this experience: from denial through mourning and into rationalization. I have to tell myself that he's okay, that he probably has found shelter and food, that he just wanted to stay in Bolivia but didn't know how to tell us. This is the last picture I have with Roque- it was taken in Cochabamba the day we were being evacuated to Peru.
I joined Mark in Buenos Aires after a short stay with my mom in California. It took me a while to get over my jet-lag since there was a 6-hour time difference and the people in Buenos Aires live on a late schedule. Most businesses don't open until 9:30am and people don't eat dinner until 10 or 11pm. Even on weeknights! We rented an apartment so that Mark would have space to work on his grad school applications and so that we wouldn't have to deal with living in a hostel.We made Thanksgiving dinner a night early with our volunteer friend Emelia. We made it early so that we'd have more time to eat leftovers before we had to check out of our apartment on Friday. From Buenos Aires, we took a bus to Puerto Iguazu and there were only 6 or 7 people besides us on the bus. We asked the bus attendant how the company can make any money with such an empty bus and he told us that the bus would be in the road even if it were empty. This was a strange thing to imagine compared to our experiences in Bolivia with buses only leaving when 75% full- meaning indefinite delays at times.
Once settled at our hostel in Puerto Iguazu we took a dip in the pool and investigated how we'd get to the Cataratas de Iguazu (waterfalls) the next day. Of course we could sign up for a tour, but it'd be way more expensive and we'd prefer to have more freedom as well. So we took a city bus to the visitor's center and got there before the park opened. I didn't really know what we were in for, having not seen many pictures of the waterfalls in the tourist literature. We had to hike in a little to get to the falls, and I got more excited as the sound of the falls grew louder. Right away we started to see wildlife as well- brightly colored butterflies and a mama coati (ko-ah-tee) and her babies. We'd never seen a coati before so it was pretty sweet. Eventually we got to the catwalk suspended over the falls and were able to look over them and get spectacular views of the surrounding area. There were several boat tour options and we decided to take the 12-minute-long "baptism" in the falls. It was exhilarating to be dunked in the spray from the falls, but I kept thinking how dangerous it was. They said they'd never lost anyone but they'd had boats flip over in the past. We were very glad to have done it.
I thought the signs were pretty funny. They were posted along the metal catwalks that we followed to view the park.
Our final stop on the waterfall tour was the Garganta del Diablo- Devil's Throat. I was impressed by the sheer volume of water descending into the mist. It was mesmerizing to stare into the current, and I'm glad that I was able to capture the rainbow in the picture. There were hundreds of birds flying around in the mist, which made it seem even more magical as you stood there feeling the mist on your skin.
1 comments:
Wow! What an adventure of a lifetime!
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