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Monthly Archives: June 2014

Onward to Ecuador: When it sucks to travel alone

27 Friday Jun 2014

Posted by Anita in Ecuador, South America

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

Culture, Solo Travel, Transport, Travel, Travel Days

The day I arrived in Huaraz after 4 transfers

The day I arrived in Huaraz after 4 transfers

I have been traveling the world solo for many years and to lots of different destinations.   When asked, I’m the first person to sit up and spout the benefits of solo travel: you can go anywhere you want anytime you feel like it, you have complete freedom, you change your plans on a whim.  But the greatest benefit of traveling alone that I willingly promote is that traveling alone hardly ever means that – you end up meeting a plethora of like-minded individuals and traveling together with all sorts of people from a day to weeks at a time.

Regardless, I always have the same set of fears before I set off on a trip with regard to the aspect of doing it by myself.  What if I don’t meet up with anyone when I get there?  What if I’m forced to spend days and weeks alone without anyone to talk to?  What if I get robbed and there’s no-one to help?  What about eating meals in restaurants alone?  I had these exact questions in the week or so leading up to my flight to Lima.

The German girls I befriended on arrival in Peru

The German girls I befriended on arrival in Peru

It’s not like I had actually really planned this trip to begin with.  As some of you know, I suffered a serious personal loss and I wasn’t myself anymore.  I’d lost purpose and focus.  Travel is what I always have turned to in similar situations to feel better. So it seemed like the right thing to do.  Though given my already precarious and fragile emotional state, my concerns regarding traveling solo were more acute this time around.  How would I handle my anxiety?  What if I felt really sad and was crying with no-one to talk to?  Memories of South America, 2009 came flooding back.  While I’d had a good trip, my tears could have filled a swimming pool. I had a broken heart after a relationship ended a few months before my departure from the States.

I didn’t want to repeat that.

Nevertheless, despite the fear, I decided to proceed with the fear not because of it. I said goodbye to my boyfriend and my house and I got on a plane (well, 4 planes actually) and flew to Huaraz, Peru.

It wasn’t long before my fears were allayed.  Upon arriving at the tiny Huaraz airport, I discovered that the transport I’d arranged to get to my hostel hadn’t shown up.  3 girls from Germany very kindly offered to share their transport with me, and before I knew what was happening, I’d made 3 friends with whom I’d go on an acclimatization hike with the next day.  And I did.  They were great – and it was the perfect segway to my getting up the courage to book my 4-day and 10-day treks that I’ve since written about.  Incidentally, my German girlfriends had invited me along on their Cordillera Huayhuash experience, but since it was twice as expensive and only 8 days in length, I’d politely declined.

So all was well.

Until I got back from the trek.

At least I got you, Quatchi

At least I got you, Quatchi

I arrived back to my hostel on Saturday night and was perfectly happy spending Sunday resting and recovering.  In fact, I did go out and have a celebratory dinner with the Polish-French Canadian couple from the trek that day.  However, the following day I left for Ecuador and I’ve been alone most of the time ever since.

Monday set up that classic set of fears one has traveling alone (especially as a woman.)  I thought I’d devised an ingenious way of getting to Cuenca, Ecuador whilst avoiding 3 days/nights of buses, which is what it would take to travel overland.  I decided to fly to Lima, then fly to the northernmost city in Peru that has an airport, Piura, and then figure out a bus across the border from there.

All was going well until I got to Piura.  The woman at the airport told me there were two companies that could get me across the border and they both had night buses, however, that night buses were not safe for women traveling alone, plus crossing the Peruvian/Ecuador border was quite “peligroso” as she put it to begin with.  Not really wanting to spend a night in this town, I left for the bus terminals by taxi undeterred.

I was faced with a dilemma: take an uncomfortable night journey with a non-reclining bus seat through the “safe” border, or a “semi-cama” reclining seat on a better bus through the “dangerous” border.  Just when I was starting to feel quite anxious as I was trying to keep an eye on all 3 pieces of my luggage attached to various parts of my person at all times (the number one most annoying aspect of traveling alone – having to keep track of your bags at ALL times, INCLUDING! ALWAYS having to take all your luggage into the bathroom with you…ugh!) my eyes laid down on two gringos also in line for tickets!  Someone who spoke English that I could talk to!

Ceviche with Gustavo and Javi

Ceviche with Gustavo and Javi

As it turned out: Gustavo and Javi were Chileans but spoke fluent English.  Gustavo was also unusually fair skinned with red hair, and so forgave me for assuming he was Scandinavian or Scottish.  After about an hour of debate and lugging bags back and forth between the two bus companies, we all decided to take the better bus and worse border crossing combo.  Gustavo and Javi were staying with the bus straight through to Guayaquil, however, the additional issue was that I’d have to change buses in Machala and we’d be arriving there around 4:30am in the dark.  Since Peruvian travel agencies would NEVER take it upon themselves to have more information on hand than is necessary to do the bare minimum required for their job, no-one had a clue about when the first bus might be to Cuenca from Machala.  I might be waiting around for hours. Alone. In the dark. With my luggage.

Screw it, I could deal.

I can’t tell you what a delight it was to hang out with Gustavo and his girlfriend Javi for that hour or so that night.  They were so wonderfully conversational, involved, enthusiastic and funny. We had dinner at a seafood place and I was thrilled to finally have some ceviche before I left Peru!  It was scrumptious, but soon enough – we were sitting in our designated half-bed (not really) bus seats and drifting off to sleep. That is, until the border crossing – which turned out to be completely benign and the 3 of us giggled as we filled in our forms half-asleep and I dealt with a particularly offensive banana explosion in my backpack.

That moment of fear returned when we arrived in Machala and I got kicked off the bus.  Gustavo was so sweet getting off with me very quickly to enquire about next buses.  He looked at me and pointed across a very dark 4 lane street to a fruit stand where a handful of shady characters were standing around and said “That’s where they say the bus to Cuenca stops.  He says there should be one in half and hour.  Good luck!”

And that was that.

I swallowed hard, held my head high, and walked with my 3 pieces of bodily-attached luggage in the dark hours of the early morning and sat down next to the shady fruit stand and tried to appear very confident that the bus was coming any moment.  I even got up the nerve to buy some drinking yogurt.  Luckily, they use the US Dollar in Ecuador…  Even more luckily – a bus to Cuenca came within 15 minutes and I was saved from having to continue to put on a brave face when I really just wanted to cry.

My first Ecuadorian meal "Plato Typical"

My first Ecuadorian meal “Plato Typical”

I spent all day on Tuesday in Cuenca.  There was literally no-one in my darling little hotel, La Casa Cuencana, and after a little nap, I wandered the streets of the city for hours and then ate my first Ecuadorian meal alone.

I took a photo of it.

Cause that’s what you do when you’re eating alone when you’re traveling!

The other downside to solo travel - you almost always have to take selfies to get pics of yourself

The other downside to solo travel – you almost always have to take selfies to get pics of yourself

Cuenca was a beautiful little city – and recognized by UNESCO as a World Heritage Site.  However, no matter how much I enjoyed the architecture, or the ambience of the central park and cathedral, and even smiled at the crowds of happy families and amorous couples enjoying the festivities of Corpus Christi (where, apparently, we devoutly remember the gift Christ gave us with his sacrifice by pounding our faces at hourly intervals with sweets, donuts, chocolate, and ice cream)- I felt completely alone.  And lonely.

I believe there is a difference between the two, and I felt both.

The following morning, I was convinced I’d meet up with some cool people.  Maybe taking in a musem in Cuenca? Maybe on the bus to Alausi? (I was heading up north to ride the famous Nariz Del Diablo train)

The stunning Cathedral in Cuenca

The stunning Cathedral in Cuenca

But no.  I walked around the city again, this time in a light drizzle, visiting the medical museum (recommended by a friend because it was super creepy, and she was right) and the town market where I ate fresh pork sliced off an entire roasted pig together with pico de gallo and potatoes for 2 bucks.  Then I caught a taxi and a bus to Alausi.  The bus was packed, and I don’t know why – but of the 3 buses I’ve taken so far in Ecuador – I have each time ended up with an indigenous woman with a newborn attached to her back sitting next to me.  Which is fine, I’m glad she got a seat, except that I’m sorry to report, the clothes these women wear, whilst very attractive in color, have not seen the inside of a washing machine, or tub for that matter in months or years.  At one point today, I had to stick my head out of the window because I thought I was going to hurl from the horrendous odor.

Indigenous Local women in their very colorful, but unfortunately rather smelly attire

Indigenous Local women in their very colorful, but unfortunately rather smelly attire

So I got to Alausi and had another scary experience worsened by my being alone.  The bus “dropped me off” on the edge of town without driving into the center.  It was dark, around 7pm, and there were no taxis, just a lot of people staring at me as I asked directions to the center of town.  I had to walk for about 15 minutes down a very steep hill with my luggage bouncing along in front of me.  Still no taxis.  Got yelled at by some drunk guy.

The whole atmosphere of the place was worsened by the kind of dense fog that would make John Carpenter proud.  I was feeling kinda stupid for coming all this way to ride a train where I wouldn’t even be able to make out the tracks let alone any scenery from the carriage window.  And then I did something I almost never do – I walked straight to what seemed like the first clean, nice, well-lit hostal I could see.

Hosteleria Verana was lovely.  I almost cried I was so happy when I was offered a room with private shower for $15.  The lovely owner, who had just laid out dinner for her kids, offered me a plate of the same with an ice cold beer.  Spinach soup, Beef with potatoes.  I was so happy to feel safe again, I forgot my loneliness.

Me, riding the Nariz Del Diablo Train in Alausi

Me, riding the Nariz Del Diablo Train in Alausi

This morning I rode the train (will write about this more later) and did meet a very nice American man who is teaching English as a second language in Colombia, and two Taiwanese friends touring South America.  We chatted briefly, but all left quickly after to return to Quito and Cuenca respectively.

And so, I got on another bus, with another indigenous woman co-passenger, and then repeated this step after changing buses via taxi in Riobamba and arrived in Banos today around 5pm.

My tiny little room in Banos

My tiny little room in Banos

I will admit that I cried when I got into my room at the little Planta Y Blanca hostel.  I feel so lost. The weather is matching my mood with rain and large, dark grey clouds looming above.  I was so lonely, I decided I needed a massage – if only to feel some human touch.

Feeling a little better, I went in search of a good restaurant for dinner.  After having sat down, I noticed another traveler eating by himself.  Taking a deep breath for courage, I approached and asked if I might join him.  “I’d rather you didn’t,” was his response.

Ok. That’s fine. How could I assume anything – he might have had a bad day himself.

Even so, I was so glum when I ordered my food.  What is going on?  I never have these issues when I travel solo!  What kind of sad vibe am I giving off that no-one wants to engage?  Oh God: I’m bringing this on myself through the laws of attraction! I came to Banos to go hiking, mountain biking and visit the thermal pools.  But I don’t want to do any of those things by myself.  I have no motivation.

And then…3 very young Americans walked in and allowed me to join them.  They are so sweet and fun and innocent (ranging in age from 19-22.)  Tomorrow we will go bike riding together.

I hope for now, the spell is broken and I’ll start liking solo travel again.

The Cordillera Huayhuash Circuit Part II – Free Donkeys and Hot Springs

25 Wednesday Jun 2014

Posted by Anita in Peru, South America

≈ 10 Comments

Tags

Hikes, Mountains, Tours

Better weather on Day 6

Better weather on Day 6

By day six, the weather started co-operating with us and I awoke to brilliant sunshine.  However, trouble was brewing as evidenced by the worried and perplexed looks on our guides’ faces.  “The donkeys are gone”, were the first words said to me in response to my “Buenos Dias”.  “What do you mean they’re gone?  Where did they go?  Or were they stolen?  And what does that mean for our group?” (of course, this conversation happened in Spanish)

Our group at mealtimes

Our group at mealtimes

As it turned out, nobody knew what had happened to the donkeys – 6 of ours and 3 from another group camping close by.  Mario, our donkey wrangler, was besides himself as they represented his livelihood and he claimed that they’d never just wandered off before.  Without the donkeys, our trek could not continue as we’d have no way of transporting all of our equipment and fuel.  Javier, Julian and Mario set off on foot and horseback to look for the donkeys and we were told to stay put, worst case scenario being that we’d have to stay another night in the same camp.

Given how awful I felt after the day before, I was quite happy to have a morning of rest.

After about 3 hours, Mario returned convinced that they’d been stolen in the night by one of the local communities.  He was inconsolable.  Javier and Julian were still out looking.

Then, about an hour later, someone spotted the donkey dude from the other group, on horseback, corralling 9 donkeys back down the valley from literally what appeared to be at least 2000 feet up the mountain.  What the hell?

The man explained that he’d “found” the 9 donkeys in a CAVE way up the mountain side where they must have spent the night.

Seriously?!

Our horse, Luis Pajon.

Our horse, Luis Pajon.

From this point on, throughout the rest of the trek, we all decided that the donkeys had decided to go have themselves a good party that night.  Lots of laughs were had describing the lead donkey saying “You gotta check out the grass up there…it’s the best grass you’ve ever tasted” and the obvious double entendre.  While in the cave, we think the donkeys decided it was time to revolt from being human-load carriers- they were going to be Free Donkeys!

This became our toast of choice from this point forward.

Hot Springs and Cold Beer!

Hot Springs and Cold Beer!

Despite our late departure, we had another soul soothing experience to look forward to.  Our camp for this night was located directly next to a natural thermal pool!  After that many days without my skin touching water, it was an unbelievably wonderful feeling.  Add to that the fact that they were selling 1/2 litre bottles of beer for $2 and we had ourselves a fantastic afternoon soak.  It’s amazing how trekking can really help boil life down to the bare necessities, and have you appreciate them so much more.

The only other drama we sustained throughout the rest of our journey was losing 3 members of our group on two separate occasions.  On the first, I was one of the 3.  Since our guide was still way behind us walking with the older slower couple, the 3 faster walkers decided to just keep heading downhill after the highest pass, Punta Cuyoc, until we saw our campsite.  Unfortunately, we just kept going and going and never saw our tents.  I started feeling suspicious because Javier had said that the campsite should be reached within an hour of the pass?!  Eventually we stopped to discuss what to do, and we saw Julian walking towards us yelling.  Turns out, we’d walked at least an hour too far and now faced that same hour of walking uphill after what had already been a very difficult day of asent!  I was so disheartened I could barely speak until I collapsed in my tent.

At Punta Cuyoc, 5000m

At Punta Cuyoc, 5000m

2 days later, the older couple announced that they were leaving the trek.  It was getting too hard for them and we had descended to a village at 3200M where it would be possible for them to pick up a series of buses to get back to Huaraz.  I respected their decision and was secretly and selfishly glad to have our guide back.

Waiting for the rest of the group: turns out we'd walked an hour past our campsite

Waiting for the rest of the group: turns out we’d walked an hour past our campsite

The last three days were by far the best from a group and scenery perspective.  Unfortunately, I was sick again – the Cipro I’d taken hadn’t killed my strep infection and it was back with a vengeance.  The fact that I could still manage 1400m of ascent and high passes during a fever told me how fit I’d gotten with these miles of walking over the better part of two weeks.  I managed to buy more antibiotics at the general store (without prescription is perfectly normal in Peru) and hoped this would stamp it out for good.  I’d also lost a considerable amount of weight and my pants were starting to fall down (a good problem, I think).

Siula Grande!

Siula Grande!

Our group became very cohesive with just four clients and we had more intimate dinners and social times together.  The most incredible day was when we walked face to face with the magnificent Siula Grande mountain and there was not a cloud in the sky.  By far the most stunning mountain scenery I’ve ever had the grace to witness.

Jumping into the river to cool off

Jumping into the river to cool off

On our penultimate day, the weather actually got pretty hot- and we were all convinced to jump into the glacially cold river to cool off and clean up.  It was super fun.  That day was so relaxing and wonderful, though I’m sure it was aided by the knowledge that all we had in front of us was a five hour, mostly flat, walk out the next day to Llamac and our waiting bus!

The Cordillera Huayhuash Circuit – Part I – Guts and Glory

25 Wednesday Jun 2014

Posted by Anita in Peru

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

Hikes, Mountains, Tours

View from Day 1

View from Day 1

I returned last night from one of the most physically and emotionally arduous walking journeys of my life. The Huayhuash circuit is legendary for its grand peaks that are close enough to touch, and its sheer unspoiled wilderness. I’d first heard about it through reading the book “Touching the Void” about the perilous and ill-fated attempt of two British climbers to scale Siula Grande for the first time.

I honestly can’t believe how much happened in these past ten days, but it will surely take some weeks to fully sink in. Just the appreciation of a real bed and the chance to rest today, and connect again with friends via the internet has been overwhelming. Doing this circuit really meant being completely cut off – and in my case, being cut off from anyone that could have a real conversation with me in English. It’s been a trying and demanding experience.

Our stunning campsite on night number 2

Our stunning campsite on night number 2

As you will recall, I began this journey with trepidation about whether I should even be getting on the bus. I’d just returned from my four day Santa Cruz trek and had developed a nasty sore throat and temperature. This turned out to be Strep, and for the first 3 days, I hiked and camped through a nasty fever and very weak disposition.

Javier and I - together again

Javier and I – together again

Our group was a huge surprise for me because it consisted of 4 Poles, 1 French Canadian, a Peruvian client and 3 Peruvian staff. I couldn’t believe that I was going to be in Peru for 10 days talking in Polish every day (and as it turned out, serving as somewhat of a translator between the Polish clients and our guides). So, bizarre as it was, I was relieved that I’d at least not be completely left out of every dinner conversation and could understand about 90% of what was being spoken. However, moving constantly in my brain between Polish, Spanish and French was very demanding and I longed to have a conversation in my mother tongue.

Our bumpy six hour ride to the trail head was soon relieved by the knowledge that we’d be camping right where the bus let us out. Our nice dinner however, was soon interrupted by a huge storm rolling in and our equally huge discovery that none of our tents were waterproof. Commotion and moving all of our gear into the cooking tent soon had all of our spirits dampened along with our gear. Upon waiting out the storm all smushed into one tent, the rain subsided and after drying out our tents, we trepidatiously agreed to try a night of sleep in them – the plan being that Javier (incidentally the same guide that I had on the Santa Cruz) would head out on horseback at 5am to get to the nearest town where there would be a signal and call Galaxia, our agency, and request that they send our group of 7 some new tents.

Rainbow on a chilly wet morning

Rainbox on a chilly wet morning

Javier returned around 11am with the assurance that new tents were on the way and we could get started on our day’s climb. Each day of this trek involved going over a pass that was in excess of 4500m, the highest one being 5030m or 16,500 feet. Still feeling very unwell, I paced myself and was very grateful when we arrived at our next campsite…that is, until we discovered that our agency had only sent 2 new tents – leaving 3 of us in the same predicament as before.

Seething, but with no other choice, the crew did what they could to patch up the best of the worst 3 tents left over with tarp and tape, and we prayed each night that it wouldn’t rain too badly.

What a way to start a 9 night trip in the high alpine.

Each day brought new highlights and lowlights. The scenery was absolutely stunning, though cloud and rain did obscure some views those first few days. We had a stunning sun break at our second campsite which was situated almost directly below towering white-capped peaks covered in glaciers that you could hear calving throughout the night. Our food was wonderfully prepared by our chef, Julian, and our guide, Javier did the best he could with a group that was easily split into 3 when it came to the speed at which we walked. A slightly older couple from Poland were the slowest, and what took half the group to cover in 7 hours, took them 11. This meant that for the most part, we were walking without a guide and relying on the cook or the donkey porter, Mario, to tell us the direction to walk.

Weather started to get bad on the way up the pass

Weather started to get bad on the way up the pass

This was all fine and good until day 4 when the weather became exceptionally bad and it became impossible to wait for others to “catch up”. I was trying to get to the top of the pass to catch up with Shirley and Janusz who had been in front, since half of the group with the guide were over an hour behind me. When I got to the pass, it started to snow – heavily. I waited as long as I could except that it soon became obvious that if I waited any longer, hypothermia was going to be a real problem and I had no emergency shelter with me. I started walking down the path hoping that the way would be obvious to the next campsite.

Unfortunately, the weather worsened and I soon found myself in a white out and started to panic. I had no map, no compass. I didn’t know which way camp was. I could start heading back up where I came from, but when I turned around the visibility was so bad I couldn’t re-trace my steps. Walking in whiteout conditions and hoping for the best, I spotted two figures in the distance and started yelling. It turned out to be two Australian independent backpackers who were kind enough to wait for me and show me the way down (at least as best they could with the visibility, but at least they had a map)

Weather has turned to snow and I have no idea where I'm going

Weather has turned to snow and I have no idea where I’m going

About two and a half hours later, I arrived in camp and promptly burst into tears in the cooking tent.  It was still raining.  Half way through the trek and that day didn’t feel safe by a long shot.

The Santa Cruz Trek – 4 days of spectacular scenery and suffering

23 Monday Jun 2014

Posted by Anita in Peru

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Hikes, Mountains, Tours

Santa Cruz Trek, Cordillera Blanca, Peru

Santa Cruz Trek, Cordillera Blanca, Peru

Despite some initial trepidation about needing more time to acclimatize, I booked my 4 day Santa Cruz trek with the Galaxia Tour Company in downtown Huaraz to leave the following morning. Marco, the very jovial owner, explained that it really was a trek designed to help a person acclimatize and should definitely be attempted before doing the Huayhuash Circuit. Since I got a nice discount, I booked both treks, knowing that I’d get a day and a half to recuperate between the two.

Entrance into the National Park

Entrance into the National Park

The first day went very well. Apart from a sleepness night, I managed to get a few hours of rest on the four hour bus ride to the trailhead. We had a five hour ascent to our first campsite. It started in a village and followed a lovely creek through a canyon that finally opened out into a beautiful meadow. Our guide, Javier, was delightful and I basically got a five hour Spanish lesson on that walk! He was very “amable” and I liked him a lot. The rest of our group comprised an retired French lady, a couple from Spain (who incidentally rarely stopped talking-ever) and two lovely young friends from Germany in their late twenties.

First lake

First lake

Our first campsite was at 3600 meters and we started the climb at 2900 meters. I could definitely feel it, but I was feeling ok all the same. The view from the meadow of the white-capped peaks was very impressive. I had my own tent and after a cozy dinner served in our private “mess tent” – I settled in for my first night in my own Eddie Bauer 0 degree sleeping bag: which I was so grateful I had brought along.

The next day the trail got interesting. First we passed several alpine lakes with plunging waterfalls descending from glaciers hanging overhead from towering peaks. Then we entered a wooded area followed by a desert like wide expanse of sand which made for difficult footing. I was starting to really feel the altitude, but so far, so good.   After lunch, we were heading up to a lake at 4400m. This was starting to get serious, altitude-wise. I should have done at least 2-3 acclimitization hikes before ascending this high and I’d only done one. My fingers were crossed.

Quatchi and the sand/desert section

Quatchi and the sand/desert section

Around 4100m I started to get a stomach ache. Next came bouts of nausea. Then the whole world starting to feel strange, as if the mountains were moving and I wasn’t. I felt panicked and sat down next to a stream. To make matters even worse – I realized that my period had started (6 days early and I’m usually regular) and I only had enough “stuff” to last about a day. From that point on…I stopped and asked every woman I passed if they had anything to spare. This managed to see me through most days…when it didn’t- well, I’ll spare you the details 😦

Sitting by that stream I started to cry. Javier came by and gave me some paracetomol telling me it would help. Did I want to continue to the lake or sit there and wait for him? Stubborn as I am and as much of an achiever as I am, I elected to continue.  Stupid, I know.

At the high altitude lake: found strength to jump right after being sick

At the high altitude lake: found strength to jump right after being sick

That next 45 minute ascent was as tough as the last 45 minutes on Rainier. I struggled for air and felt sick to my stomach. The view at the lake was worth it, and I collapsed onto a rock to take in the view…but felt worse by the minute.

Pierre and Malte, both having had AMS themselves on a previous trek, suggested I go down as soon as possible. Pierre asked “Maybe you’d feel better if you just puked?”

That did it.

I don’t know what it was- but that word did the trick and everything that I’d eaten or drank that day came back. After, feeling a little better, I started the descent with Javier who stayed with me despite my now dinosaur pace.

Beautiful Alpamayo

Beautiful Alpamayo

Getting into camp, it was all I could do to drink a little soup and then crawl into my sleeping bag. That was a really rough night. My heart felt like it was beating right out of my chest. I took some diamox and drank over a litre, getting up to pee at least 3 times. I felt so anxious and there was no-one to talk to about how I was feeling. So, pretty tough all around. Decided to take some Ambien so I could get at least a few hours of sleep.

In the morning, I felt pretty rough. My secondary womanly issues were not helping matters and I was emotionally overwrought. It was, of course, in this state of mind that I now had to face the toughest part of the 55 km circuit – the ascent to Punta Union at 4750 meters, which incidentally, is 15,583 feet – over 100 feet higher than Mount Rainier. Deep breaths.

Feeling ill on the way up to Punta Union

Feeling ill on the way up to Punta Union

It was slow going, but after 2 and a 1/2 hours of struggling with breath at every step, I made it. The next section, our guide wanted to try his “new route” that was supposed to be more beautiful. That’s great, but he didn’t mention it would include traipsing through thigh-tall grass and sinking into mud to your ankles. It made each step even more tiring. This was a 15 mile day, and by the time we walked into camp I had literally fallen over asleep mid-stride.

I crawled into my tent and set up my mattress and sleeping bag. No sooner had I crawled on top, not even bothering to remove my muddy pants, but I noticed what sounded like an entire school of children had decided to play a game of soccer, screaming simultaneously right outside my tent. This campsite was not the wilderness, we were in the midst of local villages. There was not going to be any rest for me before dinner, which was me forcing down some broth again. Our “bathroom” was this distant deserted looking building which I was assured was manned through the night. I trudged over there and found myself walking through a small river which I hadn’t seen with my headlight. The only reception I found was two barking dogs and no-one answering the door. Creeped out in the night, I miserably trudged through the field and found a place to dig a hole, to um, do my business (sorry – but that’s the reality of camping sometimes)

At the highest point on the trek

At the highest point on the trek

Our last morning was supposed to be super easy – only a 2 hour hike out before we would catch our bus back to Huaraz. I woke up feeling so much better and refreshed. We were told to wake up at our normal 6:30am so we could hit the trail at 8am. The ascent was actually steeper than I was expecting, but the prospect of a bus ride and a shower made it easier. We passed lots of interesting villages full of small smiling children waving greetings as we passed them by.

Arriving in the village of Vaqueria, we settled with some cold drinks to wait for our bus. The wait turned into 3 hours, with my questions regarding when the bus would arrive being constantly avoided. Welcome to Peru. Around 11:30 – they did serve us some lunch, but not before several of the group had given into their hunger buying themselves some lunch. Of course, no-one had told us we were going to be fed.

Sigh.

Towards the end of our trek

Towards the end of our trek

Then once we finally got going, we were told we had to stop at the trailhead for Laguna 69 to pick up some day hikers. “No te preocupes, solo 20 minutos”. Whenever a Peruvian says this, you know you should start worrying. 2 hours later, we finally hit the road and didn’t get back to Huaraz until after 7pm. I’d been reassured that we’d be back by 2, so I was pretty disappointed not to have any time to relax. I literally showered, ate some fruit, and passed out. Unfortunately, I’d also developed a sore throat and a fever which has continued into today…And I’m supposed to leave on the Huayhuash trek tomorrow morning!

Here’s hoping I feel better soon.

Visiting Petra – Fulfilling a life’s dream

13 Friday Jun 2014

Posted by Anita in Jordan, Middle East

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

Archaeological Sites

Matt and I at the world-famous Treasury

Matt and I at the world-famous Treasury

This post was written about April 10, 2014.

I had wanted to visit Petra ever since I was a small child. I’d seen a documentary on it when I was about 7 or 8, and then, of course, I’d seen the Indiana Jones movie that was set there. Several friends of mine had visited and I’d seen their photos – this was at the very top of my must-see travel lists.

Matt and I had planned to have two full days in Petra and we’d also planned our week’s itinerary around being able to attend the famed “Night show” at The Treasury. After our dusty camel ride out of Wadi Rum, we enjoyed a very scenic two hour car journey to Petra. Checking into the Petra Palace hotel early was not a problem (they let us use our room to shower even before they’d had it cleaned!) and freshened up, we felt ready to take on the giant historical site.

The stunning Siq

The stunning Siq

Following Yoann’s suggestions (whom we’d met in Wadi Rum) we walked the full six miles all the way to the Monastery first and then back-tracked to visit what sites we wanted to, always knowing how much energy we had left to make it the full distance out of the site. After purchasing tickets and descending a pale rock gorge, one enters a tunnel-like bright red rock gorge known as “The Siq”. It was so beautiful, so narrow, with walls towering either side of you – the sight of it, plus the emotion I was feeling at the realization that I was finally here, after all these years, moved me to tears.

After about 3 kilometres, you emerge from The Siq and your eyes are immediately drawn to The Treasury – one of the most stunning ancient buildings I’ve ever seen – carved out of the red rock possibly as early as 312 BCE as the capital city of the Nabataeans. I was so immersed in the beauty of the Siq that it wasn’t until I caught Matt staring at me, waiting to see my reaction to my first glimpse of The Treasury, that I actually noticed it.

I do not have words to describe how it felt to be in it’s presence. Something like awe.

The Monastery

The Monastery

The entire city of Petra continued to defy belief as we walked the miles to the “end” of the main city to a site known as The Monastery. Stopping to enjoy a traditional Mint with Lemon after climbing over 800 steps, we sat and just soaked in the atmosphere.

Summoning a little more energy, we climbed a little higher up to a viewpoint known as the High Place, with godlike views over the peaks down to the far-distant Wadi Araba, over 1000m below.

View from "The High Place" above Wadi Araba

View from “The High Place” above Wadi Araba

Heading back as the sun was starting to go down and the crowds had already left the site, was a real treat as we felt as if we increasingly had the site to ourselves. The temperature was also a little more forgiving. We took in the Roman Collonade, imagining what it might have been like to live here in Roman times, the incredible Amphitheatre, and of course, all the numerous royal tombs.

By the time we got back to the Treasury, there were no more horse carriages taking people back up through the Siq. We were going to grab one back to the main entrance to save our legs (and Matt’s poor ankle which gives him a lot of trouble) because we knew we were going to be turning around and walking back down to the Siq in less than two hours for Petra by Night!

It was pretty special to have the Siq all to ourselves though.

We grabbed a quick dinner and got in line for the almost procession-like descent back through the Siq at nightfall. The entire route was lit with ground-based candles, making it feel almost like a religious experience.

Candles everywhere

Candles everywhere

Arriving to the Treasury, the entire land mass in front of the edifice was a sea of candles and we were all shown a row to sit in and take in the atmosphere. After a few minutes, once the several hundred people had found a comfortable place to sit or stand, a man came out and started playing a flute-like instrument.

It was hauntingly beautiful.

That is, until he had played in excess of 15 minutes. At which point, you just started wanting it to change or stop altogether. Was this it? We’d paid to come down the Treasury to listen to an hour of Flute?

Me and my Indiana Jones : We know how to have fun together

Me and my Indiana Jones : We know how to have fun together

Matt and I proceeded to giggle incessantly after pointing out to one another that this show could use some production value and choreography. I suggested a Las Vegas style show with dancers doing high kicks to Arabian music. Matt got me laughing so hard I almost snorted suggesting that if this show were being staged in the States, they’d simply cover “that old monument thing” with a giant cinema screen and project the most awesome scenes from Indian Jones and the Last Crusade, with lots of loudspeakers blaring the musical anthem to rev up the crowd. Then I suggested that they hire an Harrison Ford Look-a-like to then “appear” high above the crowd to zip-line his way over our heads for the grand finale.

It was a memorable night, not for the candles and flute playing, but for painful laughter-suppression hour I shared with my wonderful boyfriend.

Wadi Rum – Living like Lawrence of Arabia

11 Wednesday Jun 2014

Posted by Anita in Jordan

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Atop a natural bridge in beautiful Wadi Rum

Atop a natural bridge in beautiful Wadi Rum

(Visit was April 8 and 9, 2014) Wadi Rum has epic scale to it. It’s the kind of desert landscape that inspires awe at every turn. However, what makes Wadi Rum so special is the unique culture and sociology of the local Bedouin people, who’ve made Wadi Rum their home for thousands of years.  The people make this a very magical and memorable place on earth.

Wadi Rum in vibrant orange

Wadi Rum in vibrant orange

In preparation for our visit, Matt and I watched Lawrence of Arabia together in snippets spanning the previous week or so. I was surprised at myself for not having seen it yet, and both the cinematography and performances lived up to the hype. It set the mood and left us excitedly anticipating our camel riding journey into this landscape.

Wadi Rum is an easy 90 minute drive from Aqaba. We had booked an overnight safari with Rum Stars Camp – one of the many Bedouin run camps that arrange 4 wheel drive jeep tours into the park along with an overnight under the stars stay in an authentic goat haired bedouin tent.  Our group comprised Yoann, a French man living in New Caledonia, and two lovely ladies traveling together from Edmonton and LA respectively. Within minutes, it became apparent that this was going to be an exceedingly good group. We had great chemistry right away and were laughing and talking our way through introductions as we bumped up and down on our bench seats in the back of the open-air truck.

Our 4x4 truck

Our 4×4 truck

Throughout the day the conversation was no-holds barred, and often sank to the ranks of lewd and vulgar. That we all giggled without any eyebrow-raising prudishness among us was really adding to the enjoyment of the scenery as our guide, Awad, showed us various viewpoints, rock formations and canyons. We would often stop for Bedouin tea which was delicious, infused with cardammon and very sweet. Sometimes we’d get it with camel milk which I had been anxious to finally try. The Bedouin people are extremely relaxed in their social interactions: nothing is done in a hurry or without purpose. Sitting around and communing with “family” – which nearly everyone living in this section of Wadi Rum can claim to be – is a very important part of their working day. However, they are also very serious Muslims, and our lunch picnic and subsequent hike was very carefully timed so as to allow our driver a chance to turn towards Mecca and pray.

Several “in-jokes” that our group got to enjoy together made our day and a half in Wadi Rum so memorable. For example, when Matt was trying to explain to Yoann why he should ensure that he pays for a camel for himself to ride, and a camel for his guide to ride too, he helpfully added “You know, it’s like 1st class camel vs. economy camel.”  I was dying.

Awad, our Bedouin guide preparing us tea

Awad, our Bedouin guide preparing us tea

In the afternoon, our guide took us to a massive rock formation that was appropriately named “Mushroom Rock” for very obvious reasons. We were given 10 minutes to get a closer look and snap a few pictures. Towards the end of our visit to the rock, Yoann yelled out “Oh my God, you guys!! It’s a MUSHROOM ROCK!” The comedic timing of his line was brilliant.

The sunset was beautiful. We climbed up high on a rock escarpment and had a view unobscured by a single man-made object for miles and miles. As the temperature dropped, I was glad for having brought my puffy jacket. I sat cozy and wrapped in Matt’s arms and life felt very good indeed.

As we drove to our “camp” for dinner and some subsequent local bedouin entertainment, our group consoled one another that we would now have to integrate with the rest of the guests, who would surely not be anywhere near as much fun as we all were. Yoann cracked us up, talking about “Oh – the good ol’ times…you know,when we first met….this morning…things will never be the same with the others!”

Sunset

Sunset

The camp itself was marvellously situated. Matt’s and my tent had 5 beds in it! I was shocked to find running water and toilets – not what I was expecting at all. Dinner was buffet style and extremely delicious. We sat with our group and grumpily eyed the other tourists, deciding that they were “The Others” like on an episode of Lost.

Following dinner, the Bedouin guides answered questions about their way of life, their culture and their women. The last point was a difficult one for us Westerners to swallow as our speaker told us that women could not be tour guides, since the work is too hard, the driving is too difficult, and sometimes the trucks break down… Sigh. I looked at Matt who squeezed my hand and exhorted that I “Just keep it inside, babe”.

When the music started it was very obvious that like most Arab music we’d heard so far on the trip, this music had many half-tones and no western major/minor scale to it. It made melody practically non-existent which is why Matt had me in stitches when he commented in the middle of the 5th tune “oh! I love this song! It’s the one that goes nah-ah-nah-nah-bah-nah-rah-bah!!!”

I slept like a baby and awoke before sunrise to go wander out into the desert and watch the sun come up. It was cold and I could see our camels being geared up for our 2 hour saunter back to the park entrance.

On my camel with our guide Ibrahim

On my camel with our guide Ibrahim

I had never been on a camel. The trickiest part is trying to stay on top as the camel rises after lowering to the ground to allow you to climb on. Once I was situated, it felt ok…especially after our guide, Ibrahim, showed me how to sit with the right leg crossed under the left. Matt and I took off on our own, tied together to Ibrahim’s camel. After about 1/2 an hour, Ibrahim untied all the camels and we were free to go at whatever pace we (or the camel!!) wanted.

Being alone out there in the middle of the desert with breathtaking vistas as far as the eye could see was surreal. I felt as though I was in a movie. Pretty spectacular and something I’ll surely not soon forget.

Every Cloud has a Silver Lining: Arriving in Jordan

07 Saturday Jun 2014

Posted by Anita in Jordan

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

Diving, Travel Days

The beach in Aqaba

The beach in Aqaba

The saddest part about missing our flight to Amman was that with only six days left to explore Jordan, we were going to miss out on our one opportunity to dive the Red Sea in Aqaba.  Since driving out of Aqaba to Wadi Rum involves gaining several thousand feet of altitude, divers must stay in Aqaba at least 12 hours before driving out to avoid getting “The Bends”.  As it stood, our flight was early in the morning, but we had a 3-4 hour drive to get to Aqaba and we wouldn’t be arriving until late afternoon.

After looking at several other alternatives, we decided to go ahead with our visit to Aqaba and try to go snorkeling and enjoy what we could of the town that evening before heading to the desert of Wadi Rum the next day.

Our flight was pretty uneventful other than the fact that my stomach hurt from being gluttonous in the Emirates club lounge and then having a second breakfast on board.  We entered the country of Jordan and headed south in our rental car on a stretch of highway that cut through sandy desert as far as the eye could see, sporadically dotted with small villages and settlements along the way.

It was hot.  And as it turned out, it was hotter inside the car. We’d rented a car with broken air conditioning.

So, I admittedly did not arrive in Aqaba in the best of moods.  I was tired, sweaty and pissed off about the lateness of the day.  To make matters worse, we realized that the address I had for our hotel was wrong and that it wasn’t in the center of Aqaba at all, instead being located about 20 miles further south along the beach and close to the Saudi Arabian border.  We took the opportunity to go to the Dollar Rental Car office in the center of town first and we managed to switch our vehicle for a slightly newer Hyundai with functioning air conditioning.  It was dirty, had been in a front-end collision, and there was still cigarette butts in the ash tray – but by God it was cool inside and that’s all that mattered.

The Red Sea Dive Center - Our hotel in Aqaba

The Red Sea Dive Center – Our hotel in Aqaba

After mistakenly driving past our hotel 2-3 times and having to make a U-turn at the Saudi Arabian border, we finally pulled into our hotel, The Red Sea Diving Center, around 4pm.

I was greeted by Omar, the wonderful owner who had been so kind and responsive via email that I felt I knew him.  He welcomed us to Jordan as he gave us a key, and I tearfully told him how sad I was that we had to leave in the morning and that we’d missed our flight and our one day opportunity to dive.

Then something truly magical happened.  Omar looked at his watch and said that if we hurried, he’d be willing to take us out on a one-tank shore dive at that very moment!

Me and Omar after our wonderful shore dive of "The Cedar Pride" Shipwreck

Me and Omar after our wonderful shore dive of “The Cedar Pride” Shipwreck

I couldn’t believe it!  Matt and I excitedly changed and followed Omar’s van down to the beach and the location of the shipwreck dive “The Cedar Pride”.  Most of the dives in Aqaba are shore dives which makes them very accessible.  Omar explained that visibility would only be 30-40 meters…to which we replied “Only?  That is pretty amazing as far as we’re concerned!”

The dive was pretty spectacular.  The ship was dramatically laying on its side and had turned into a beautiful artificial reef that was teeming with sea life.  We even got to see one of the largest turtles I’d ever seen in my life, though he had a damaged front leg which Omar later explained must have been from a shark attack.

Happy after our first dive together

Happy after our first dive together

It was a truly memorable experience, and my first dive with Matt who is a very accomplished diver.  Emerging from the water, everything felt right with the world again.  Omar had saved the day and turned out to be the first of many Jordanians that we met on this trip who showed us kindness, hospitality and a genuine desire to help us have the best experience in Jordan that we possibly could.

Matt experienced the first in a series of interactions that catapulted him to stardom in the eyes of the locals.  Upon leaving the water, he was approached by a local family who asked him to take a photo.  After motioning his agreement to take their picture, the family hilariously started shaking their heads and indicating that no, they wanted to take a picture of HIM!  Tall, white, and James Bond handsome, my boyfriend got a lot of attention in Jordan.  My favorite moment during this interaction was when they asked Matt to hold their baby while happily taking photos of him.

He is my Superman.

Upon our return to the hotel, we both had giant smiles on our faces but we were also famished.  We changed quickly and drove back into Aqaba to the famed Ali Baba restaurant and dined on a feast of fantastic food that included spiced fish, cinnamon-infused rice, grilled steak, Arabian salad, and Petra beer.

Our first day in Jordan had been completely salvaged.  And the cherry on top for me was seeing a random camel wandering multiple times through the restaurant as we sat and toasted our fortune.

Travel mishaps on the way to Jordan

06 Friday Jun 2014

Posted by Anita in Jordan

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Flights, Transport, Travel, Travel Days

IMG_8066

The most delicious $45 breakfast I’ve ever had

Monday, April 7th. This was going to be a relevantly uneventful day.  All we had to do was bus back to Dubai,  take the subway to the airport, board our flight to Amman, pick up our rental car, and drive 3-4 hours to the red sea port of Aqaba where we would be going on a dive the next morning. As it turned out the day had something completely different in store for us.

It all started to go “tits up” (an expression that’s very English and for which I’m unapologetic) upon arrival at the Abu Dhabi buts station. It turned out that all of the public transport in the United Arab Emirates works on a card system, much like the orca card we have here in Seattle, you simply add credit to the cards balance in order to use it on public transport such as buses and subways. If you don’t have enough credit for the full fare of a particular journey, you have to top up the card in order to use it.  Which is all pretty simple, unless you happen to be at the Abu Dhabi public bus station, and you happen to be one Dirham short on each of your two bus cards.

Not only were none of the vending machines that allowed you to put credit on your cards working, but in order to purchase brand-new bus tickets, you needed to have cash, which we didn’t have since this was our last day in the United Arab Emirates. To make matters worse, there were no ATMs in or near the bus station, at least any that were working.

So we were facing a dilemma, which was growing worse by the fact that time was pressing and the first bus to Dubai had already left without us.  I did have the two extra dirhams that we needed, but no one was allowing us to pay the difference on the cards in cash. Each card essentially had 24 dirhams left on it and each of the bus fares was 25 to Dubai.

Getting super frustrated, Matt set off to find an ATM nearby while I improvised and try to find a way around the problem. As per usual in a foreign country, it was not the fact that the machines weren’t working, nor the fact that there was no ATM nearby, it was the fact that nobody seemed to offer any sort of assistance nor anything but a blank stare when I explained our predicament to them and asked for help and understanding.

Eventually, thinking outside the box saved the day. I explained our plight to a local who spoke perfect English. He sympathized with us, and essentially took our cards as payment for paying for two one-way tickets for us on the bus himself in cash. I was so grateful to him and eagerly motioned for Matt to give up his ATM search and join me on the next bus that was departing. It was already starting to get a little late.

Finally breathing a sigh of relief on the bus, it wasn’t until 30 minutes into our journey that I turned to Matt in horrified realization.  “Please tell me you remembered to grab our passports out of the hotel room safe?”

Matt’s eyes closed as he started swearing under his breath.

Next thing I knew, Matt had asked the bus driver to pull over on the side of the highway for us to get out and catch a cab presumably. While he was busy pulling our suitcases out of the luggage hold, a group of locals were exhorting me not to get off the bus because nobody would be able to pick us up on the highway! I expressed this concern to Matt, who logically stated that there was no point getting any further away from the one thing that was gonna enable us to get on a plane to another country that day: our passports!

So we disembarked the bus and I will forever have stamped in my memory the image of Matt carrying his luggage in the opposite directions of traffic on the hard shoulder of the highway from Abu Dhabi in the glaring midday sun. After a few minutes of walking towards what we hoped was a slip road, a taxicab pulled over only to inform us that it was against the law to pick up any individual on the highway! I guess he thought we were in some sort of physical trouble (which we sort of were) but it wasn’t worth €3000 fine that he would receive if he took us back to the city.

Great!

Ever less hopeful, we resumed our belabored walk back to the slip road, knowing full well that if we did not secure a ride back to the city within the next few minutes, there was no earthly way we were going to be able to check in on time at the airport.

The new Royal Palace in Abu Dhabi, under construction

The new Royal Palace in Abu Dhabi, under construction

Lucky for us, a pickup truck pulled over and a Sri Lankan man by the name of Rosita picked us up telling us he would take us to the taxi rank for the little town that we were in. So we threw our luggage in the back and got in. After elaborating on our story, Rosita made a U-turn and showing extraordinary kindness, declared that he would take us back to our hotel, an easy hour and a half out of his day!

An unplanned benefit to this predicament was our chance to talk to Rohita for the next 25 minutes about what life is like for him as a construction site supervisor and immigrant to the United Arab Emirates. He spoke of how the Emirati were a class of men all their own, neither requiring nor caring to follow any rules and laws of this state other than the ones that precluded them from drinking alcohol in public. There was never any doubt who was in charge, and for the most part, Rosita spoke of how immigrants were looked down upon, mistreated, and if they were lucky enough to also be female, perhaps not even paid the full $700 the average service worker made (for example staff at our hotel) a month. He did, however, speak with tremendous enthusiasm about his wife and new baby boy back home in Sri Lanka, very excited to be flying home the next week to see them again.

Thanking Rohita profusely, we jumped out of the truck — Matt grabbing cash from the ATM for what was going to be one of the more expensive taxi rides of our trip, and I ran into the lobby to grab our passports.

It was an hour and a half’s journey to Dubai airport, it was 12:45 PM, and our flight left at 3:30 PM. We might just make it.

Unfortunately, our taxi driver very much obeyed the speed limit (it would seem that many of the locals fear breaking any Emirati rules) and also insisted on making a stop to get gas despite having half a tank, more than likely to simply reset his meter which he didn’t want to go over certain amount.

Emirati Palace Hotel

Emirati Palace Hotel

We arrived at the airport with 45 minutes to go before the plane took off. Unfortunately for us, we as yet did not have our boarding passes and were told with very stern and unrelenting faces that we had absolutely no chance of making the flight if we hadn’t already checked in. There was no question we would’ve actually made the flight, it would simply appear that they had given our seats away since we had not checked in online before.

Lesson learned!

Feeling emotionally worn out from the anxiety of the day, we headed off to rebook our tickets and were lucky enough to be allowed to fly out first thing in the morning for only €100 change fee.  Of course it wasn’t the money that was disappointing, it was the fact that that was our one day to go diving in the Red Sea. But it couldn’t be helped, and so Matt and I sat down at Café Costa, grabbed a coffee and try to get online to find somewhere to stay the night.

We chose the Holiday Inn at the airport since we would need to be getting up so early the next day for our plane. By the time we got to our room we were ravenously hungry and didn’t really feel like doing much else in Dubai. We sat in the hotel’s bar and ordered a bucket of ice cold beer and some beef kebabs and tried to have a good laugh about the day.

 Snuggling up and finishing Lawrence of Arabia in bed seemed like a really great way to end it anyways.

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anitagotravel

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