El Calafate

I love the Perito Moreno Glacier. Growth from the center stretches out to the edge that ruptures crashing into the water. Even when the smallest white edge breaks the crack resounds and a raw blue of the glacier is exposed. And when you can pull your eyes from the face of the glacier to its body that snakes back into the mountains. The ice seems endless, and jagged till it turns soft in the distance blurring into the snow clouds. In this winter wonderland I was so tempted to stay, hike over the glacier, scale the peaks of nearby El Chaltan, but the promise of Buenos Aires pulled me north.  

Mountains and Lakes

Thanksgiving day I woke up in San Carlos de Bariloche, Angentina. The location is stunning. It sits amongst massive snow capped mountains with forested valleys that are claimed by lakes. friends from Valparaiso had recommended a hostel, and the owner Paolo from Buenos Aires spent an hour illustrating a map of where i should go for the best bike ride, hike and chocolate shop. This hostel serves fresh home made bread and jam in the mornings. I feasted with the snowboarding mohawked argentine and ponytailed german girls before leaving to catch the local bus to the famous Cerro Campinario.

 Gleaming with joy to be in a forest i leapt up the steep paths knobled with roots. The view from the top is majestic. I circled it several times before remembering my camera, and took insufficient photos. I descended slowly luxuriating in the vibrant yellow flowers, and cluttered trees.

 On the road to the bike shop a teapot shaped sign called my attention to a small cottage tucked into the mountain just over the lake, i promised myself a tea if i biked back before dark. By the time i arrived to the bike shop it was almost 3, and the shop closed at 6:30. The owners warned me that the loop usually takes 4 or 5 hours to complete. Tempted by the challenge i strapped on a helmet and radiantly neon green safety vest and pedaled off. At the first hill i disembarked legs weary from the cerro climbing, but soon i was in a rhythm. Fantastic songs snuck into my head and i bounced to the beat fighting to climb hills and  batteling winds across the exposed bridges. The entire ride was amazing, at times huge mountains cuddled the road from the left, or lake beaches on the right. Mostly the road just wove through the forest. Back at the shop i hinged off the bike trying to control my panting, they greeted me with confused smiles. Had i turned around or done the full circuit? The full circuit! I had returned in less than a hour and a half. We laughed and they invited me to their back room to freshen up. 

Knees wobbly i made my way to the tea shop.

Up the Volcano

The plan had always been to go from Santiago to Mendoza, cross into Argentina and bike around the vineyards tasting wine. My long contemplative walks led me question if this plan of winning was worth skipping over the temptingly close mountains and glaciers of Patagonia. At the terminal ticket counter i bought the ticket south, heart set on seeing a glacier. First an overnight bus to Pucon, the last place i would stay in Chile. I woke smiling to lush forests, mountians, a massive lake and the famous volcano. In the evening I took a kayak out into the lake till i found a small beach and filled a journal page in the black sand. Packing up to paddle back only when the sun began to set into the mountains glistening gold in the chops of the water. 

Before arriving i was decided not to summit the volcano, yet the next morning i  strapped into crampons and with an ice pick in hand began to to summit the smoking mountain.  Unlike the snow storming, altitude challenging climb, and leg shaking steep decent of Huayna Potosi, volcano Villarrica treated us with beach weather, and the decent was sledding on plastic saucers, tobogganing! Back at the hostel a small group of us dipped into the lake for a quick swim. And we all sat together in the sunny front lawn toasting the adventure with beers.

Santiago to Stay

Morning classes coaxed me into a routine. Wake for breakfast, take the metro to school, ask teachers for extra homework, take school work to a cafe or park, and celebrate with an adventure. Most adventures would really equate to a long walk, as i love to taste the tempo of each neighborhood. 

My favorite museum in Santiago was the Museum Memoria. I visited twice and could go back again. The comprehensice yet personal narration of the Pinochet dictatorship expanded my identity as a world citizen. 

My school organized activities for the students daily, my favorite was the soccer game. Thursdays after school a group of us met at the park and played on a small court. The games were fast, chaotic and fun. I ended up scoring 5 goals earning the title ‘estrella’. 

The Hearthrob Valpo

I loved Valparaiso from the first day. My taxi driver shared directions to  his favorite hidden gems, fish markets and cerros. The bright and beautiful Planeta Lindo is a hostel with an abuelita mural, roof top kitchen and terrance with spectacular views of the city and bay. The first afternoon i wandered the animated streets, admiring all the characters painted on the walls, stairwells and buildings. In the morning I attempted yoga poses on the sun roof and jogged to Pablo Nerudas house. I was fast friends with my Brazilian roommates and we took a field trip to Vina del mar to spend the day at the beach. The last day i went bouldering on some rocks by the sea. The grip of granite on my chalky hands was enough to counter the salty spray from the crashing waves. Monday morning i took a bus  at 5am, back to Santiago to start my first day of classes.

Santiago Take 1

It takes 30 hours in a bus to get half way down the length of chile. My nighttime arrival was brightened by the women who beckoned me to the safe taxi area, and even shared a cab with me. The hostel reception welcomed me warmly but cautioned they only had enough space to house me for two nights. I happily accepted and spent the next two days touristing my way about the city. Hiked up the lovely Cerro San Cristobal to gape at the expanse of Santiago, took a free walking tour and investigated the highly recommended elect language school. Thursday i left on a bus for Valpariaso debating the two week intensive spanish course.

Guided by Turtles

There is a way the water can carry you. Unlike snow or skate boarding the wave moves with and away from you. Sometimes you have to keep catching it pumping your legs for speed, other times you just glide riding the wave. My ‘one time surf class’ had turned into a week long surf camp. Everyday we head down in the afternoon and paddle out to the break ignoring the shoulder muscles burning into existence. Panting, faces blue from sunblock, and eyes red from salt water we wait watching, the waves, the other surfers, and the turtles. In my last days of surfing they came so close to me, though I had my underwater camera I failed to get a picture. Or maybe succeed by not getting a picture, its a great moment to just be gazing into the eyes of a massive turtle. Once paddling I thought I was passing a rock, when infact i just stroked the solid shell of a passing turtle. Many tiimes when i felt so tired, that my arms would surely fall off, i saw a turtle peak out of the water in the direction I was heading. Smiling I could always paddle just a bit further with them as my guides

¡Buena onda!

A night bus to Arica landed me on the door step of Sunny Days Friday morning. Yes, I did go there just because of the name. Ross, the Kiwi manger welcomed me to the breakfast table. He is a grandfather like character, super warm and filled with stories. I had a quick jog at the beach, toes in the sand for the first time since the states. I passed a white mustached caballero training a horse, leading it into tight circles just above the shore. In the afternoon I met Yo-yo, the surfing teacher. Just like the movies he had flowing blond streaked locks and a green van blasting reggae music stacked with surfboards. On the drive down to the water my lesson began and he talked about the waves, how to see the sets. I was given a blue whale of a board, and a lesson on techniques and saftey. On the first wave, with yo-yos help, I stood up and rode it to shore.  The next day I was due to go live and volunteer with a family in the afternoon. Yo-yo invited me to join the surfing in the morning I saw red, my new board smaller with a yellow belly rimmed with red. The water was warm and the turtles were sticking close, they appear like hedgehogs, peeping their heads out of the water and then back under again. After hours in the water with withered fingertips we peeled of the wetsuits and headed back to the hostel singing to sublime's Summertime. 

Estrella

The stars in San Pedro de Atacama are so close and clear. I chose my favorite star through a telescope, it was a twinkling rainbow. Nanita Diane and I took the space tour, that started with an animated Canadian astronomer telling stories of the sky, and ended with a rich hot chocolate.  During the day we strolled around, happily slowing our pace to that of flip-flops after 3 days of speeding over salt flats in a 4x4. The best discovery we made was Cafe Cia. Off the main strip of identical white shops Cafe Cia’s front gate is decorated by leafy overgrown vines, a chalk board is propped up colorfully listing the days’ delights. We shared our first and last meal on the patio at a large table of driftwood speckled with sunshine.

Uyuni

Pensive and unsettled we all decided to leave that night. I quickly packed up and joined Christians friends, Makka and Ery, for the night bus to Uyuni. We knocked on several doors closed under lit Abierto signs. The next morning I woke early to find a spot on a tour leaving that day. Makka, Ery and I had the most wonderful feast of a breakfast and parted ways. At the start of the tour I found a window seat, Nanita, and soon Diane. We became fast friends animated over the salt flats, and the stargazing adventures that awaited us in Chile. The tour of the Salt Flats is a dream where abnormal is normal. A red lagoon, a cactus island on a lake of salt, coral 4000 meters above sea level, and small craters of earth boiling from a volcano below. 

Potosí

A late night bus took me to Potosí. From too many stories of stolen luggage I’m in the habit of bringing my luggage onboard, and buying the window seat so i don’t inconvenience my neighbor by barricading the isle. Though even bringing mochi(mi mochilla) onboard and down the isle is an eye attracting endeavor. Luckily I was placed next to Christian, who sacrificed some of his leg room for me and mochi, and we talked about cognitive linguistic theories and life for the three hour ride. 

Once in Potosi we went straight to the Koala Den, a wonderful, almost treehouse tucked into the colonial streets. Christians found old friends in the common room, and we all talked about going to the mines the next day. Potosi is the highest, once was the richest city, in the world. Visiting the caves is to enter the shadow left behind from the glory days. Saturday morning we turned on headlamps hunched over and entered the mines of the mountain.

Sucre

Cou-nya-pe.  I first tasted cuñapés in Los Angeles with Sarah, they were brazillian and called Pão de Queijo. 

The manager of my hostel had spent an hour annotating the best of Sucre onto a map el mejor sights and bites. The best place to get cuñapés was at four sharp, in the entry hall of a building a block up the street. And indeed I did find a woman and with her blanket protected basket of fresh baked cuñapés.

I spent the days walking to the pen marked destinations on my heavily creased map. Climbing up to a viewpoint, running through a park with replica Eiffel tower, and wandering though beautiful museums. 

Where palm trees come from

Saturday night we went to the river, raced kids through the current to the other side, skipped rocks upstream, and laid to dry on the grassy bank. When the sun set only five of us were left listening to music watching the stars come out. That, night thinking back on my past two weeks, I felt I could stay at the park forever.
Six days a week, up at six, return after six, asleep before nine.  I worked with the monkeys in the parque de monos. My favorite part of the day was when we took them on walks to the park, and climbed trees together. The monkeys would stay close at first then leap away to snack on leaves. Then Alejandra and I would chat, laughing when one of them would drop in, clinging to our hair like branches. Alejandra is a vet in training, to help her is to walk through each task with careful attention. Always with time to stop on the path to check out a bug, or stay up in the trees longer to give the monkeys more time to play.
Now I'm back in a land with electricity and internet, the park feels like a secret garden. . .jungle. Amy thank you so much for highlighting the jungle and putting Bolivia on my map.

La Paz

The bus dove in on steep streets stacked with brick houses, for the first time in some time I felt intimidated. After a walking tour of the city I happily had a vague lay of the land, and a reservation for a mountain biking adventure with a charming group of Brazilians. Though I hardly planned to have a few days in La Paz I left more than a week after arriving. The streets are studded with vibrant markets, breath taking churches and sprayed with art. On one of my favorite days I found the museum of musical instruments. A lovely winding museum where every room you step into strikes up a tune and you can play the instruments! Afterwards I sat in the Murillo Plaza, where the pigeons take up more space then the people that come to feed them. Couples and children pose for pictures giggling adorned with the tame grey birds. Here, after a fateful conversations with Sean, I decided to climb Huaya Potosi. All details quickly slid into place and at 12 am Wednesday morning Sam and I set headlamps to our helmets and set out for the summit. I cannot think of another experience I've had like this, it's hard to say what keeps you going. We had snowy weather so in the fresh powder each step slid back like climbing in sand. 6,088 meters, my highest summit.

Border crossing

Too many American travel blogs exasperated about the trials of taking a bus from Puno, Peru to La Paz, Bolivia, at the bus station I chose a ticket to Copacabana. The buss ride connected me with Opheli, and we decided to adventure the next two days together. Copacabana is a perfect transition town, a place to pause and flip my travel calendar from month in Peru to month in Bolivia. Opheli and I sailed across Lake Titicaca to the Isle Del Sol for a laborious and peaceful walk across the historic island. Recently I've been a bit challenged for breath and so just the walking was difficult. Luckily Opheli keep me going with stories of her favorite artists, films, acting classes, and a hip hop festival in France.

Traditional dancing everywhere

First day in Puno Luis, Beto and went to the alferado. Juan Carlos, with the virgin natividad in hand and a banner across his chest, led a procession. We followed in line with the people and performers around a courtyard of orchestras that stuck up a tune as we passed. The day was filled with dancing, speeches, and drinking, and ended with te piteado. Early the next morning we went to tio Leo's  Restaurant, Brasas del Titicaca, and sampled the days menu for breakfast.  A mountain of lomo saltado, coupled with tea and fresh milk. Then for lunch he gave us seco, a tender beef soaked and surrounded with a rich green sauce, served beside a pyramid of rice.  One night we strayed from tio Leo's restaurant to try, Machu pizza, and plotted how we could order extras to feed us the bus ride to La Paz.
Each day we've run around up to the condor and inca lookouts, down to the pier, and between the goal posts of the small turf soccer field. This is the first time I've played since January's injury, it felt so good to be back. Good in the painful type of way, making a run 4000 meters above sea level, then trying to get back on d proved to be a tiring feat. I seemed to have difficulty with the size of the goal, as 6 shots that looked sooo close merely rang off the posts. I am so excited to start playing again.
Picture  is  from the day I got my blogger api to work, and the schools paraded down the street.

Llama lookout

Cusco is beautiful. The lush center square is surrounded by churches and framed by rolling hills with colorful homes. Luis met us the moment Sandra and I arrived from the bus. Over the next few days we adventured through the markets, found a great price for the inca jungle trail(to Machu Picchu), and made music in the main plaza. Sandra played the violin and at times I sang along, a comical feat given that I've lost my voice. The day before our hike the agency called us to postpone the treck. We decided to cancel, and instead spend time in Hurubanba visiting Luis's great grandmother mama Julia . Her smile seemed to float her over to Luis and, after a long hug, she invited us to the table. With grand gestures she told us stories and fed us with bananas and inca popcorn. The next morning mama Julia walked us to the gate and we bowed our heads in prayer as she asked god to watch over us and bless our journey. The train to aguas calientes follows the river wedged between the mountains. That looked ethereal draped in mist. We took the short hike up to the hot springs, a treat on our foggy day. At 3am the next morning we set out to Machu Picchu, and climbed up the mountain as the sun rose.

Desert day

As happenstance would have it Sandra arrived at the bus station in Lima just before my bus left and we found front row seats on the top deck. She told me about the Amazon, and I talked about pottery and eating cuy. We arrived to Huacachina in time to climb a sand mountain for the sunset. At dinner we ate with a great group of Canadians, who had reserved sand boarding for the same time we had the next day. In the morning we all boarded the dune buggies and flew around mountains of sand. Four times we stopped to Velcro boards to our feet and board down the mountain. I'm quite terrible, but it's really fun. We spent the rest of the time in Ica, walking around, checking out the museum and getting our tickets to Cusco.

Huaraz

On the way to Tarica I now sit by my amiga each morning. She is about 10 and always lifts up her lunch box inviting me to the window seat beside her. We talk about the dancing and carnivals in Ancash, her sisters, her pets. She has a lot to say and patiently giggles explaining words I don't understand. Now I turn back when I get off the buss to wave goodbye as she rides off en route to school.

On the wonderful arguably arduous walk home I pass by the market. Numbed knuckled one day I sought out gloves. A cheery lady dove through her piles of alpaca to find me a pair and we talked about the colors she chooses to use. Now she drops her knitting needles for our hello hug and i catch my breath before heading off to my home on the hill. 

Yesterday was my last day working in Pablo's studio. Ive translated orno (kiln) instructions to english, and he has brought in photos of his studio from the past to illustrate his stories. Among all the photos of his students and organizations he has worked with, there is an old black and white photo of him working on the same wheel  I use each day! He has been the best maestro ive had in pottery, teaching me in spanish and sign language. I hope one day I can return to his studio. 

Miércoles por la Mañana

I asked Professor Luis if I could use the kitchen early the next morning, so no one would have to wake up at 5 to prepare my breakfast. The mountain bound bus was scheduled I pick me up at 5:30. The next morning I wake up hungry and smell pancakes like a desert wanderer imagining an oasis. Walking down to the kitchen I tried to guess what the smell was coming from. Surprised, I saw Luis in the kitchen spatula in hand 'panqueque?'  Amazing, the best way to start off the day of hiking to Laguna 69.

Motion Aftereffect

Focused on making my bowl I hunched over the wheel, with a kick now and then to keep it going, never peeling my eyes from the spinning disk. My teacher Pablo asked me a question, and as i looked up I couldn't help but to smile as the room swirled counterclockwise. An exemplary case of the motion aftereffect.

I am amidst my two week stay in Huaraz. An incredible ciudad surrounded by massive mountains, with fresh air that bites when the sun goes down.  Professor Delgado and I connected through the Teach Hauraz website, for two weeks I will live with his family and the teaching volunteer Jordan. A joyful Canadian. At 7am I walk with Professor Delgado to the school bus, a nice charter like bus, to get to Pablo and his pottery studio in Tarica. For an hour or two Pablo teaches me how to use the kick wheel and choose traditional Huaraz graphics to etch into my creations(bowls? cups?). Pablo only speaks spanish and has a lot of information to share. After class I hurry down the hill to take the combi,  a local van back to Huaraz. Usually awake for the ride back to Huaraz, I get to see the country side in motion. Women in the traditional northern wear of tall stiff hats, puffy skirts and sweaters, pigs tethered to the hillside eating or sleeping, huge bulls, loud donkeys, and colorful clothes swinging on clotheslines. As so as we get to the merccado I bolt for lunch at the house, not an easy feat as it is perched on a hill. Climbing in this altitude makes me question my fitness. Why all this trouble for lunch? The professors wife is an AMAZING cook and always gives generous with the servings. Lunch is always the traditional peruvian soup first then main course. After lunch I head to the roof to 'study spanish', a great intention that usually turns into a nap. But I always set an alarm so that I can wake up for my spanish lesson with Sindy, the professors daughter. I have been quite foolishly confident with my spanish, though I can usually get my point across in conversation, these classes illuminate my grammatical ignorance. After class Im back on the roof to do a circuit workout that Jordan taught me. (Okay well today was the first day but I feel as though it will become a habit). Then back inside for a quick warm shower. Ive accepted different tasks, like translating kiln instructions for Pablo, so I am busy till dinner. Another delicious feast. 

Siesta

I love the movement on the dance floors in Barranco. Though original plans had me sleeping in central Lima for my stay, I recline now on the roof of my hostel in Barranco. The artistic district by the shore. Yesterday, in central Lima, Sandra and I walked to Plaza de Armas and Chinatown before meeting up with Luis to have a Pisco Sour at the Hotel Bolivar. We decided to leave the bustling central and head to Barranco for the night. Luis was born in Arequipa and guided us to the beach, the best seafood dinner, and the block of bars and discotheques. The music kept the dance floor alive no matter crowded or spacious.

We spent today walking around Miraflores. They had a mice problem a few years back and brought in cats. Unlike the cats of the Cinque Terre that seem to watch from every roof and corner, the cats in Miraflores stick to the parks. In the fenced off grass they coil up to sleep, or watch park patrons lazily. We walked for miles by the cliffs where the parasailers launched right next to the Parque del Amor, a catless park. The park is perched on the edge of the cliffs with a wonderful statue of a passionate kiss and dozens of love quotes. "Conjuncion de la carne y el espiritu eso es el amor" Percy Gibson

Landed

In attempts to find the perfect hole in the wall restaurant I looked to my 10yr old guide book. Three blocks down the honking streets of central lima I found La Choza Nautica. Glass doors, a security guard out front, white walls, a bit of a fail as far as a small homely place.  Once seated I saw ceviche pescado was at the top of the menu, 'quieres picante?' Si!

At night flanked two friends from the hostel we ventured to the Parque de la  Reserva. At first the waterfalls seemed lovely but then the show started, without my camera I could only bask in the colors. Hopefully tonight I will return armed so I can capture and share the beauty.

Tuesday

Suitcase zipped bulging with exposed seams. Dream catchers bagged nested in a bike helmet. Pack living room, check. Relaxed I started to peanut butter some celery, then remembered the car. Racing out, stalks of celery in hand, I prayed to the parking gods that the manatee wasn't sitting ticketed in Tuesday parking. Miraculously I found her nested on the safe side of the street, Monday street cleaning. A celebratory cookie was in order, and I went about business on Abbot Kinney. I passed by the manatee on the way home, by next Monday I will be in San Francisco. Venice no longer my home.