Cuzco
Puno
Copacabana (Bolivia)
La Paz
Uyuni
Salta (Argentina)

Bienvenidos todos a Argentina!

It´s only been just under two weeks since our last post, but it seems like much longer. The extremes to which our trip has gone have passed even what we might exaggerate, and so Andrew, the less imaginative and slightly more level-headed brother, is back at the keyboard. Gather ´round, and I´ll tell you a story...

We´ve added some more people to our family since our last note. After visiting Machu Picchu, Anthony and Jeremy went ahead to Lake Titicaca (the highest navigable lake in the world- we were wondering what this was supposed to mean, but it sure sounds good). I hung back in Cuzco to check out a fantastic ongoing project called Aldea Yanapay (look it up yourselves, and you´ll probably understand why I was interested: www.aldeayanapay.org ), then went to catch up with them. While I was catching up, I met Mario, another volunteer from the Pisco project, and his friend Olof (from Sweden), and invited them to join us.

Together, the five of us visited the reed islands of ´Los Uros,´an indigenous tribe that actually faded out in the 60s and 70s, and was replaced by tourist shops and even a telephone on the water. For what it was, it was pretty cool.
After the islands, we set out for Copacabana, another tourist town on the Bolivian side of Lake Titicaca, to see the Isla del Sol, the legendary birthplace of the Inca; crossing the border, we met up with a Finnish girl named Carolina, and on our way to the island we met an Irish gentleman named Robin; both of them joined us as well.

Seven people. Seven is a lucky number, is it not? I suppose, now that it´s all said and done, we have been lucky. Blessed is perhaps a better word, but however you call it, we´re all very good friends now, and happy to have made it out of this adventure alive...

After Copacabana, we travelled into La Paz, the capital of Bolivia - we arrived between ten and eleven at night, and the city was alive! The city lights were spread like stars or flowers through the valley and up the sides of the mountains. As we drove through we could see vendors selling everything from baby shoes to street meat; mothers, fathers, and children pushing their way down the sidewalk; and young couples everywhere, finding ´privacy´ on park benches and in small awnings.

We were hugely excited to try the street meat that night (it comes highly recommended), and just as excited to check out the market the next day; there hadn´t been any bank machines in Copacabana, and we had to squeak by on the cash we exchanged at the border. I was so excited about this, in fact, that I left by bank card in the machine that I ended up using.

Ouch.

But don´t worry! There are ways around that, and there´s more to see and do!

Despite the better judgement we should have had after the bike ride down to Machu Picchu, on Tuesday night five of us (Me, Anthony, Olof, Robin, and Jeremy) decided that on Wednesday we would ride down (and I quote) "The World´s Most Dangerous Road." How bad could it be? If this was anything like the reed islands, it´d just be another hyped-up tourist trap...

We should have realized it was otherwise when we heard that eight people had died making this bike trip, but perversely that somehow made us more excited. There were a couple other chances for the penny to drop when we set out that morning (for example, the simple sight of the cliffs we would be riding along - or when I started to vomit at the top because of the altitude - or when my contact lense dried out and stuck to the back of my sunglasses just as a jeep blew past me on a curve and narrowly avoided being destroyed by an oncoming truck), but it didn´t actually occur to us how dangerous this activity was until one girl in our group rode off a cliff.

None of us saw it, but all heard her scream. The first few seconds were filled with unbelief and cursing; then we ran back to where she had fallen. She had been passing another member of our group on the gravel road, and wasn´t able to slow down enough for the curve. We stood and stared at where she lay about a hundred yards (a football field) down the side of the mountain. The first thing we realized was that she was alive - she was crying out and asking for help. The second thing was that she couldn´t move on her own.

There were no easy ways down, and no way to call for an ambulance. Most of us spent our time watching stupidly while the driver of our group´s van climbed down to see what he could do. Another group came was passing by that time, and loaned us a harness and a rope long enough to get her up if she climbed a little higher. The girl and the driver determined that she was able to walk with help, so together they managed to get to the harness.

We were happy to be able to help hoist her up, and send her ahead of us to a hospital. She ended up being fine: a bump on the head, a few cracked ribs and possibly a broken ankle last we heard. But it was a rude realization for the rest of us. If she had rode off at any other part of the road, she probably would have died - the place where she had fallen was a shallower incline than the 90 degree cliffs along most of the way, and it actually ended in a sort of valley 100 yards down, whereas most of the cliffs dropped much further. Suddenly, all the crosses and plaques that marked the places where people had died took on new meaning. We rode more carefully on the way down, and spent a good chunk of the ride back to La Paz in silence.

Life is a beautiful thing. We have an unexpected and exciting chance to experience the unexpected, to climb hills and mountains, to taste the sweetness of an orange past the bitterness of the peel... but best of all, we are able to laugh and tell stories and share all of these things with the people around us. I´ve spoken with many of you at great length, and if we´ve been fortunate enough to talk about things like life and people, you know that this kind of grandiose sentiment makes its way in and out of what I believe - I bring it up now because the story continues, and life is a good context for it.

Take a break. Get some hot chocolate if its cold outside. I´m not finished yet.

After our biking fiasco, the same five of us decided to get out of La Paz and move on to the Salt Flats - a much more tame tourist attraction...
Then our bus crashed.

I was still feeling ill when we set out on the bus at 7:30 pm local time, on Thursday the 15th. I had to make a trip to the bathroom before we left, and ended up having to run to catch the bus while Anthony stalled the driver... which seems ironic, now that I think of it. I fell asleep almost immediately, so I don´t remember much before the crash, but I´ve been told that because of traffic, it took us over two hours to get out of La Paz. That may have put the driver in a hurry, I don´t know. I do know that it was raining and storming badly; lighting struck right beside the bus at one point. Whatever the cause of the crash, we apparently swerved twice, then the bus did a 180 degree turn on the highway, and flipped onto its side in the ditch.

I woke up to swerving screaming chaos. I couldn´t tell which way was up, or who I was touching. Things moved so fast , and I tried to keep up. There was a woman with her head caught between two seats, and a man standing on top of her. He was in shock. A girl named Nina and I pushed and coaxed and yelled at him in bad spanish to get off of the woman and sit on the roof, which was at a 45 degree angle to what seemed to be the ground. I tried to open the roof hatch to get people out, but it was apparently only for ventilation. Anthony told me he was going to pass out, his shoulder hurt. Nina and I talked to him and got him out with the help of the military who had arrived by that time. We tried to help the lady who had her head stuck, but we weren´t able to - soon the military guys took over anyways.

Outside the bus, we managed to get all of our team and all of our stuff together. Ambulances came and took the most badly injured to the hospital. Olof and Robin were in a lot of pain, so we got them onto the second set of ambulances, which came an hour or so later. The rest of us (including me, Anthony, and Jeremy) waited another hour and a half until some big-hearted locals stopped by to pick us up and take us back to La Paz. Fortunately, we were only about a half-hour´s drive away.

In the hospital overnight, and during the next day, the story unfolded itself slowly. Nobody had died in the crash, thank God, and the most serious injuries were broken bones - no serious head or back trauma or other debilitating injuries. Of the five of us, Anthony has a crack in his collarbone, Olof has some stitches in his ear, and Robin, Jeremy and I have nothing but a few bumps and bruises. The doctors thought for a moment that Anthony might need to get surgery to put some bones back in place (which would have sent us home), but they realized quickly that they had switched his x-rays with someone else´s. Whew.

I remember wondering with Anthony whether the things that kept happening were some kind of sign to go home. We´ve had a peaceful trip for the most part, and then in a short time Anthony´s I-Pod was stolen, I lost my bank card and became very ill, a girl in our group rode off a cliff, and in the confusion I almost lost my glasses (they were in the van that took her to the hospital). After the bus accident, though, this wondering has settled into a kind of stubborn determination to continue... even with Anthony in a sling. ...that´s life, after all.

That being said, while we were in Uyuni to see the world´s largest salt desert, our camera stopped working. Then the news informed us that in La Paz, thousands of Bolivians were marching toward the Senate to overthrow it, and it was predicted that the President would be next...
We hopped the next train out of the country.

Twenty-four hours later, we found ourselves here, in Salta. Argentina is a very "european" country, and so its been a good place to sit and actually relax....

This afternoon, deciding that we needed a break, Anthony and I consoled ourselves by going to get our beards shaved and eating a half-kilogram of ice cream...
Anthony needed the calcium. And just imagine how cute all the Argentinian girls must have thought it was to see me feeding my gimpy brother...

That is the story so far; we´re all in one piece, though still a bit shaken, and wary of night buses. I don´t think we´ll be exaggerating about near-death experiences anymore, having been close to the real thing. But please don´t stop reading- I assure you, that the adventure will continue, and that we´ll keep ourselves alive to tell the story.

God bless. You´re in our prayers- please keep us in yours. It´s kept us safe so far.

Liquid Gold and Ancient Temples

Pisco
Huacachina (Ica)
Cuzco

Personally I do not enjoy carbonated beverages. However, surprisingly here in Peru, I have found a small exception whose very name calls forth trumpet fanfare and a chorus from heaven.
**Cue heavenly choir**

--INCA KOLA--

DaDa!! This yellow beverage with a blue label, to my experience, has hooked everyone who has tried it by both refreshing and delighting its consumers without that rusty-nail feeling that most colas leave on your teeth.
Imagine liquid bubble gum with a hint of cream soda tantalizing your taste buds while the light bubbles that dance around your mouth are less like a soda and more like a champagne feeling...
*sigh*
I think I´m in love.
Also, if this drink comes from the Incas, an intelectually advanced race, I figure it´s got to be even good for you. Maybe it has long-lost medicinal purposes. A cure for everything from leprosy to diahrrea...
I was sure to have regular, healthy doses. You know, keep up my Vitamin P.
I think that Machu Picchu, the hidden city of the Incas is actually also El Dorado, the lost city of gold where they had a fountain of Inca Kola in the Main Square that cascaded liquid gold into the streets...(or maybe thats just heaven....have to wait and see.)

I don´t think that any trip to Peru can be complete without visiting that ancient city, so, like good tourists, after we finished volunteering, we picked up a friend (Jeremy, he´s from America-but we like him anyways. He´ll probably be travelling with us until Rio de Janeiro) and started a five day, four night trek to Machu Picchu, the lost city of the Incas-nestled high on top of the Andes. (Machu Picchu actually means "Old Mountain." Okay, you owe me a drink for helping you win that round of Trivial Pursuit...)
The first day we were on horses (riding horses searching for a lost city-trust me, the Indiana Jones theme song was stuck in my head ALL day...).
I remember reading somewhere that bovine flatulence was a leading cause of ozone depletion and global warming, but I think the horses we were given put those numbers to shame. These had to be some of the gassiest animals on the planet. I bet 12 more people in the world have skin cancer because of our four-hour climb in the Andes. Sometimes the trail was pretty narrow and we had to ride single file... There was a pretty fierce battle for who got to ride in the front.

The second day I think the scariest thing that has happened on this trip so far took place. We had to take a bus high up to a point where we would get mountain bikes to continue the trek. The road up was like one of those you´ve probably heard about may be named "Dead Mans Pass" or "Super-High Cliff Of Death" where they collect all the cars at the bottom for spare parts. On the right side of the bus you have the side of the mountain, and on the left you have 2,978 feet straight down.
No guard rail either.
This is where it gets fun.
Our bus had to stop up there because they just had a landslide and a layer of rock was covering the road. Since there is no handy side-street to cut down, we got to experience ´extreme four-wheel busing.´ I didn´t know this was part of the tour package.
As the bus crawled over the rocks the whole vehicle started rocking back and forth, back and forth, side to side. I flashed back to images of my childhood where I used to throw toy cars down the stairs. I also wished I had never seen the movie ´Speed´, because I started to picture what it would be like without a happy ending.
I think I actually kissed the ground when I stepped off that bus.
The rest of the day went pretty well. Mountain biking in the Andes was sort of a dream come true. I don´t think words can do justice to the feeling you get flying down a mountain with the wind in your face and the Andes 360 degrees around you.
The next day was equally if not more beautiful as we started two days of hiking on an ancient trail built by the Incas. I´ve never really lost my breath due to nature before (maybe it was just the hiking), but this was incredible. The mountains, the rivers, the jungle, my pictures will never do it justice.
Honestly, it was almost as good as HD.
Apparently the Incas had messengers (Chaskis) that would run along this trail and, through a series of them, could get a message across the country in 2-3 days.
That´s if you ExpressPost it.
Or, if the king in Cuzco wanted a fish, out go the messengers to Arequipa, a coastal town (about 800km away) and the king could have a fresh fish from the ocean back for suppertime. Crazy. The Dominos Pizza delivery guys will never be fast enough for me again.
I hope the Chaskis got a tip...
The trail was like a mini version of Deadmans Pass, wall to your right, death to your left. So as I hiked holding firm to the wall, I was thinking about Inca human sacrifice rituals and I tried to imagine a Chaski bolting down this trail full speed, barefoot, and what might be going through his head...

"Don´t drop the fish, don´t drop the fish, don´t drop the fish...
Man, I could really go for some sushi right now....
I wish Nike was around... I could make a killing in a sponsorship deal....
Air-Chaski."

Actually, I guess running along a cliff, the last thing you want to catch is air...

The morning of Machu Picchu we rose at 4:00am to hike up the mountain and catch the sunrise over the city. When I woke up, I had so many bug bites (noceeums) on my ankles that they had swollen up and were quite painful. I know a couple people reading this that will shake their heads when I say that I did the hike anyways. Probably close to 10,000 steps up on swollen ankles.
Nike deal that Mr. Chaski.

The ancient city itself was a pretty nice pile of rocks. Incredible stone architecture that was mostly intact as it remained undiscovered when the Spanish came in the 1500´s and almost wiped out the Incas. Machu Picchu was abandoned shortly after the conquest anyways; but no one is quite certain of the reason...
I bet they just ran out of Inca Kola...

After returning to Cuzco in the evening by train, we celebrated Jeremy´s birthday with some killer lasagna and a few drinks at an Irish Pub...-in Peru... What? We´re not giong to Ireland on this trip.... That´s on the next one.
Some Irish lads at the pub taught us a second verse to ´Happy Birthday:´

"Oh, he´s a good boy through and through
But he´s an alchie so they say,
He tried to go to heaven but he went the other way, he went
Down, down, down, down, down, down..."

(You continue chanting as the birthday boy downs whatever drink they have in front of them.)
Cheers!
Keep Smiling!
Anthony

Spanish lesson for the day:
"¡Salud! Desear vida, la salud, la felicidad, y pueden parada del alcohol usted de sentir sus sensaciones"
"Cheers! To long life, health, happiness, and may alcohol stop you from feeling your feelings!"
(This was my toast to Jeremy-he was pretty upset after losing his cell phone an hour prior....just trying to help! ;-)