Central America Part III

10 Friday Apr 2009

Posted by Anita in Costa Rica, Nicaragua

I am writing this letter from the Desert Oasis of Huacachina in Peru…so much has happened since I last wrote to you that I could probably fill a novel with the stories. Which, hopefully, I will one day. I started this account in La Fortuna, Costa Rica…so Ill just start there and go chronologically up to Peru…

I´ve had another incredible day in Costa Rica, perhaps even one to rival the Canopy Tour-zipline day! This morning I tried the sport of canyoneering for the first time, which includes hiking, climbing through rivers, rappelling down wet rocks and waterfalls! It was exhilarating.

Our guides (who were delightful eye candy) picked us up at 7:30am and kitted us out with harnesses, helmets and gloves. We were warned that we were going to get wet, so I just had on my quick dry shirt and shorts with a swimsuit underneath. We were going to be traversing through the jungle, through a canyon called ¨The Lost Canyon” because, apparently, it doesn´t exist on a map. The scenery was lush and spectacular. After a safety briefing we started our first rappel down through the river, holding tightly to our safety ropes, lowering ourselves stepping carefully on the slippery rock, while our guides kicked water all over us.

The entire experience was a thrill, especially the 300 foot rappel down the main waterfall. I had to not look down and just trust that the guides were going to keep the rope taught should I lose my grip on my “speed controlling” rope. We also got the chance to jump, swim, immerse, plunge, traverse and get heavily doused in water for the entire morning…and we were spent by the time the tour came to an end and we had to climb back up to the top of the canyon.

After a quick shower and change into dry clothes, we were delighted by a fantastic home cooked meal of stewed pork, rice, mango pico de gallo, avocados, coleslaw, black beans, and tortilla chips. Yum!

Arriving back to our hotel we all disappeared for a couple hours´ of nap. Then I decided that there is no rest for the wicked and set out to rent a couple of bikes for a ride up to La Fortuna waterfall, which I was assured was an “easy, 7km, 30 minute” ride to the waterfall. Lies. All of them.

The bike ride to the thundering and spectacular La Fortuna waterfall was even more challenging that climbing the volcano in Nicaragua. Sweat poured off of me, I finished my water way too early, and to make matters worse, I had to keep stopping to get off the bike and reattach the chain that kept coming off every time I shifted down. My hands were covered in oil, and then my face too as I kept forgetting not to wipe the sweat off of my forehead with my hands! The last section was so steep that I was forced to dismount and haul myself and the bike the last 500 metres.

We were rewarded upon arrival. Throwing off our clothes we dove into the crisp cool water and swam out to the falls, delighting in the powerful undertow created by the force of the falls. We were told not to swim out too far as some unlucky swimmers had been pulled under by the sheer power , and then drowned because they got stuck in the spin cycle that it creates. I decided to skip that one.

Heading back we raced against time and the beautifully setting sun to have a couple more goes on the rope swing at the swimming hole (where we had spent the afternoon the day before after our long journey from Monteverde). It is a favorite local hangout and the rope is a no joke Tarzan like apparatus which requires you to take a leap of faith and time the release just right so that you plunge 20 feet into the deepest part of the river below. It was a lot of fun, but it took me counting to 3 like 10 times before Angela had the nerve to do it. By the time we made it back into town, it was dark and we were completely spent.

After a welcome ice cold beer, and a much needed shower, the group headed out for our “goodbye dinner”. Thank God. I couldn’t wait to say goodbye to these people. Ive never travelled with a more inane and unfriendly bunch in my life. They were the only downside to my time in Central America and I was getting nervous about my organized trip in Peru, for fear it would be a similar experience.

The following day we had the morning to ourselves before our last van ride down to San Jose. The two girls desperately wanted to go visit this animal sanctuary where they rescued and cared for animals that had been hurt, mistreated, or kept as pets illegally. They needed 3 people to arrange the trip which included 4 hours of volunteer work with the creatures (or bubiks as I like to call the cute ones..its a made up word my sister and I invented). So, being the generous person I am, I decided to sign up as well.

It was quite enjoyable. We got to play with a gorgeously cute Kicachoo called Benjamin who had been hit by a car (kind of a red raccoon), and hold hands with a spider monkey who thrived on human contact. They also had baby sloths and racoons that were unbelievable cute. The Asis sanctuary was doing good work and had a lot of volunteers who had come to vacation here for a few weeks and work with the animals. We were put to work cleaning a raccoon cage…which wasn‘t as bad as it sounds…except it was rather strange to be raking leaves for a creature that is considered such a pest back home and often destroyed because of the disease that they carry. In any case, it felt good to be putting some good into the universe for these creatures. I got some adorable pictures too which will follow for sure.

That afternoon we drove the five hours down to San Jose, and it was so winding that it turned out to be, for me, the worst travel day of the trip thus far.

I was starting to get nervous, as I still had not received my email confirmation from GAP adventures for my 21 day Peru extravaganza. When we arrived at 7pm and I still hadn’t heard, I asked my sister in the UK to call them…and that’s when I found out that I hadn’t made it on the trip. I cried for like 20 minutes at the news, then pulled myself together…reminded myself that I could do the same trip alone and that I would be ok. That this might be a blessing in disguise. That I would meet people along the way, that I wouldn’t be lonely, that I’d get a guidebook, and book things as they came up. It would all work out.

Having said that, when I’ve travelled alone in the past, it was after extensive research and planning. I had read nothing, and had done nothing except book my flight. I didn’t even know where I{d be staying in Lima, and was nervous about travelling in a country which is notorious for theft and crimes against travellers, especially women.

SO, it was with great trepidation that I fell asleep that night. Fortunately, my Peruvian friend, Stela, was kind enough to call her parents in Lima, who offered to put me up for the first night. That felt better.

But oh boy, so much has happened since I got here, and its only Day 4!!

However, I will leave it there and complete my saga later…..and so it continues!

Central America Part II

03 Friday Apr 2009

Posted by Anita in Costa Rica, Honduras, Nicaragua

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Greetings from Costa Rica!

Let me start by saying a big thank you to those of you who so kindly wrote to me offering words of encouragement and support. It really means a lot to me. I have decided to keep travelling…(what the hell?) since I don’t know when I’ll get another opportunity like this! And I really need to time to heal, regroup, figure out what is next in my life. On Tuesday, this part of the Central American adventure will end and I will be flying to Lima in Peru!! I’m going to spend about a month travelling through Peru and then end up in Bolivia, flying back to San Jose in Costa Rica (where my original flight home was from) on April 28. SO: if any of you would like to meet me in Costa Rica for a week or so at the end of my adventures….PLEASE LET ME KNOW!! Right now, I’ve changed my flight home to Seattle to May 13…..!

SO! I have the CRAZIEST day today! We are currently staying in the cloud forest reserve town of Monteverde in Costa Rica. This afternoon I reluctantly agreed to partake in a canopy tour of the cloud rain forest, which basically involves hurtling yourself at high speeds across mountainous chasms (at least 1500 feet up in the air) attached to a steel zip line and a hip harness. Some of the “crossings” were over 2600 metres in length, taking a full 2 minutes to cross. It was the closest thing to flying that I’ve ever experienced in my life and it was both exhilarating and utterly terrifying. They give you a lot of tips to help prevent you from starting to spin out of control, or worse yet, braking so much that you end up suspended in the middle of the cable, dangling over the canyon…as the only way out of that situation is literally pulling yourself hand over hand upside down to the other side….CRAZY!

If that wasn’t bad enough- the last canopy “ride” was a Tarzan style swing which was kind of like zip line meets a bungee jump. It was insane, and I don’t know how I did it! I literally held my breath and let the guide push me off the ledge where I was standing, where I proceeded to free fall for about 35 feet before the rope held taught and I was flying screaming over the treetops. Exhilarating.

I was so exhausted by the end, and it was mostly because of all the built up adrenaline from the afternoon.

I left off my last email in the beautiful colonial town of Granada in southern Nicaragua…the poorest country in Central America. On the first afternoon a few of us took a boat trip on Lake Nicaragua to several of the thousands of islands that dot this second largest freshwater lake in all of South America (after Lake Titicaca). Our guide gave us the history of the area as well as some pretty grim statistics of current affairs- 62% unemployment, 71% of the nation is under age 30, and the average wage is $1,000 a year. He said that having a job here is like owning treasure…you cherish it. Gave me a lot of food for thought and helped to explain the events that took place over dinner that evening that I described in my last email. People pushed to the edge just to survive are capable of doing anything.

It has been difficult not to notice the extreme poverty in Nicaragua. It was bad in Honduras too…but not quite as evident. A lot more people are begging on the street, many of them young children, and there are plenty of hawkers trying to sell anything they can to those who will part with cash. Many homes for multiple family members are single room abodes with dirt floors and little furniture or creature comforts. For the most part though, everyone I´ve met seems happy- because the one thing that stands out here as being available in an extremely plentiful fashion is…community. Everyone here knows their neighbors, they acknowledge each other and linger in conversation, they offer rides to one another as they drive by, and in the smaller towns, everyone knows each other. Family seems very important too, so it appears that despite the hardships of life, the people have one another and therefore find joy in their day to day lives. That is at least my impression.

The next day I went on a tour of the active Masaya Volcano. Unfortunately (felt like cheating) you could drive to the top and then peer over the edge into the steaming cauldron of sulphurous gases. I thought it was funny that there were miles of hiking trails, some of which we did, and also signs stating that you had to park backed into a spot, just in case the area had to be evacuated in a hurry!

Afterwards we visited a craft market, had a delicious hearty lunch, and visited a ceramic factory where we could try our hands at clay pottery. I was dismal unfortunately- the foot-eye coordination that spinning the wheel and simultaneously molding the clay required was beyond me. 😦

That evening we had the worst meal of the trip in this nasty local restaurant lit with blindingly bright fluorescent lights. ugh. Couldn´t complain though…it cost $2 for a plate of chicken, rice, and beans.

Though it has improved somewhat, I was still having a very hard time getting along with my group who seem to have simply excluded me from their conversations. I am looking forward to being with new people come Peru…I´m beginning to wonder if its just me and that I make an awful travel companion?

I committed to moving on to doing my own thing, and meeting more locals. Which I did.

After a gruelling 12 hour travel day, which began at 5am, we arrived in Isla Ometepe, which is a Volcanic island created by the molten lava flowing between two volcanoes in Southern Nicaragua: Concepcion and Madera. The heat was astronomical here. It was well over 100 ´F by 10am..and we had most of the journey on HOT, STICKY, I AM NOW AT ONE WITH MY SEAT, chicken buses. We had the added pleasure of riding on the chicken ferry that afternoon too! Don´t ask me what made it chicken. I threw up.

Our hotel was located another hour´s bumpy unpaved road away on the beach of Lake Nicaragua. It was a charming little spot…lots of pink cabins cooled only with fans, and lots of hammocks dotted around the grounds and beach front. We were in the middle of nowhere. Lovely. It was so hot, that after I´d ordered my lunch….I got up from the table, walked into the lake (fully clothed), submerged, got up, walked back to the table, and sat down. Sleeping was very hard these two nights….especially when the power went out and the only relief from the fans was cut off. My roommate and I just kept getting up in the night, taking a cold shower, then lying back on the bed sopping wet…giggling at the situation. It was quite funny.

The following morning I set out at 6:30am to climb Volcano Masaya. I was feeling very brave as it was a 4586 foot mountain, and we were at sea level….that’s quite a day hike, especially in the heat. And I was the only one who wanted to go! I managed to find a guide who was taking another few people from the hotel next door, and joined his group. I hiked with a lovely gay couple from England, and a married couple from Toronto. Our guide, Daniel, was charming and asked for help when struggling with his English (he also let me sing Beatles songs to him all the way down which gave him extra bonus points in my book). Thankfully, most of the hike was in forest canopy, so we were shielded from the unforgiving sun. It was a challenging climb, about a 1-4 of the way up, our English friends said they were headed down to get a couple of Margaritas and sit it out… I was undeterred. I felt SO HAPPY finally hiking again, doing something active, and was so excited to see the cloud forest at the top and the giant crater. It was the first time my surroundings really penetrated deeply, taking me far far away from my life back home, from my relentlessly painful heartbreak, from my job loss, from Seattle…and I surrendered to the wild cat like sounds of the howler monkeys, the heat of the jungle, the hum of the cicadas, and the steady sound of my heart as it burst from my chest with exertion.

By the time we summited, after a 4 1-2 hour uphill slog, I was covered head to foot in mud, cuts, scrapes, not to mention sweat. We descended then into the crater which had a lush green floor and beautiful lake. I immediately wanted to swim, and my guide warned me against it saying it was muddy. How bad could it be? In I went, only to discover when I stood up, that I sank, as if in quicksand, UP TO MY CHEST!! Holy crap. Literally. Luckily I had brought an extra litre of drinking water as I had to use it just to get the muck off of my flesh. he he.

Upon reaching the car on the way back, we were all completely spent and filthy. Our guide was kind enough to drive us straight to Ojo de Agua…a freshwater swimming hole in the forest, where we all gladly collapsed into the cool, refreshing, water. By the time our cold Capirinhas and chicken tacos arrived (this water hole had a restaurant next to it!!) I was in ecstasy. I met a man by the name of James there, who happened to be from Oregon. Since he was travelling alone, (and kind of cute), I invited him to come have dinner with me later at the hotel. I was pleasantly surprised when he turned up!

We had a wonderful 3 hour conversation, and it was exactly what I needed after having felt such a lack of relating to my fellow travellers. About life, travelling, being American, culture shock (when returning to the States), love, family, etc, etc. One of those conversations that are as delicious as a good meal. Then came a shocking coincidence. James lived NEXT DOOR to Korey´s father in the little town of Jacksonville, Oregon. How bizarre is that? To say its a small world after all would be an understatement.

I was sad to leave Nicaragua yesterday, and upon arriving in Costa Rica, you could immediately sense an economic and social shift. What do you mean I have to pay more than a dollar for a beer??!!!! Yes, goodbye to unreal prices…hello burgeoning western style tourism.

There have been many long travel days on this trip thus far. I haven´t minded them so much as I am about 600 pages into my 1000 page English Middle Age novel ¨”World without End¨”. Its weird to be taken away from my Central American “world” into my Gothic English “world” on every bus trip, but it adds an interesting dynamic which I´m repeating after having read this novel´s prequel “Pillars of the Earth” last year in Chile. The only thing that is really bothersome (and I think of you, Monica, when I say this!!) is that you have to exercise supreme bladder control…because we can be leaving at 6am and not stopping for the bathroom for 4-6 hours at a time. Which is really difficult when you take into account trying to stay hydrated because of the heat.

All adds to the experience, I guess.

Actually, we were quite relieved when we arrived in Monteverde yesterday as the climate is much cooler here…since we are in a cloud rain forest, about 1800 feet above sea level.

Before going on the insane canopy tour this afternoon, we actually had another adventure this morning, a description of which I will end this email with…as it is already insane in its length. We got up at 5:30am (I know, I don´t know why I find it so easy on vacation!!) to catch the bus to the Biological Reserve in the Monteverde Cloud Forest National Park. We hired a naturalist to take us on a guided walk into the forest in search of the diverse wildlife of Costa Rica. Costa Rica, apparently, has more species per square kilometre than anywhere else on earth. By the end of our 3 hour hike, the number of species we saw (some up close and personal) was extremely impressive…and I´m so glad that we had the guide, as there is no way I would have spotted half of these birds-creatures had we just gone the route of many of the tourists there in taking a self guided walk. We saw:

At least 7 varieties of hummingbird
The VERY RARE Quetzal, both male and female (we were so lucky)
A Coati (like a cross between a raccoon and an anteater)
Howler Monkeys
Kapuchin Monkeys
A Tarantula (got a great pic!)
A baby sloth asleep in the canopy
A variety of Toucans
Countless other vibrantly colored birds including one called “Car Alarm” bird because of the sound it makes!!

It was beautiful. I was very impressed and also enjoyed learning about the plant life, especially the two almost identical plants with giant leaves…one of which is pleasantly scented and called “Toilet Paper” plant, and the other being a member of the stinging nettle family. I felt it might be important to be able to distinguish the difference!

Anyway…tomorrow we have a half travel day and are spending the night in La Fortuna. I will write again soon!.

Central America Part I

29 Sunday Mar 2009

Posted by Anita in Central America, Guatemala, Honduras, Nicaragua

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I find myself writing this to all of you from the charming colonial town of Granada, in southern Nicaragua. It is a beautiful little town, with colorful stucco homes and cobbled streets, all the brochures talk about its tourist appeal. However, at dinner tonight, the truth of the hardships faced by so many native Nicaraguans painted a much more real picture of this town and land for everyone sitting at my table. We were about half way through our meal when two people, a young male teenager, and an older woman, walked right up to a few of us and stuck their hands into our plates stealing our food from under our noses. We were eating al fresco on the street, and from that point on, we noticed several others lurking behind our table, waiting to be given any leftovers we might have had. After all these years of globetrotting, not much surprises me anymore. This sure did.

I am just over a week into my trip traveling with Gap Adventures through Central America. I chose this company as they provide accommodation and transport only – leaving you to worry only about activities and areas of interest at each stop along the way. As I mentioned in my last email, this trip was very last minute, so I didn´t even really have time to plan or read up on where I was going. The itinerary looked very appealing- it was called the Volcano trail for one, and promised opportunities to hike, dive off the coast of Honduras, climb volcanoes, observe a lot of wildlife in jungles, and cover a lot of ground in a short amount of time. Sounded like my cup of tea.

So off I flew from Seattle to Guatemala city via Atlanta. It was a “red-eye” flight and I was very very sleepy when I arrived, especially after having just experienced a grueling 2 day test right before getting on the aircraft. I had a cab drive me to Antigua which was the first stop on my 17 day tour. It’s a beautiful little town and a welcome retreat from the noise, pollution, and horrendous traffic of Guatemala City. I checked into the little “posada” and took a well needed shower. I spent the next couple of hours wandering around the town, which has entirely cobbled streets, narrow footpaths, and colorful buildings. It was also the start of a Catholic festival, and many of the young boys and men were dressed head to foot in bright purple as the town prepared for the afternoon´s procession…which I got to witness right as it began in the town square. One could tell almost immediately just how devout the Guatemalans are, and what a source of comfort their faith is to them. After a long nap, I met up with some of my fellow travelers (unfortunately for me…most of them had already been traveling together for the past 3 weeks and formed bonds with one another…I was the new kid and have had a hard time feeling included) and went out for dinner. By around 9pm I was delirious from exhaustion and passed out.

This trip has been filled with early morning departures (the second day we left the hotel at 4:45am…its amazing how well I deal with mornings when I´m not at home in the States…I don´t seem to mind them at all!) and quite a lot of time spent on buses, taxis, and ferries. Lots of time to think (not so good for me), and lots of time to read (good because I brought the sequel to Pillars of the Earth – all 1000 pages of it and am loving it). Our first stop was to cross the border into the “Banana Republic” of Honduras (did you all know that?) and deal with the inefficiencies and tedium which has come to characterize many of the customer/service type interactions thus far. Bureaucracy. From there we drove on to the town of Copas Ruinas which is famous for its Mayan ruins of the city of Copas…the militaristic headquarters of the grand Mayan Empire of long ago. After setting down our backpacks and enjoying a wonderful lunch of a burrito the size of my head, a few of us set out to check out the ruins.

We ended up getting a tour guide by the name of Mario who ended nearly every sentence with “…and things like that” whether it grammatically suited the phrase or not. He was a dear old man, and explained that he had been working at the UNESCO world heritage site for the past 30 years, and had never missed a day. The ruins were impressive from the perspective of the quality of sculptures. It was not as grand as the Mayan sites I´d visited in the Yucatan, but the artwork was vastly superior. We were also lucky enough to get some close up shots of vibrantly covered Macaws.

It was so strange walking around that day in the relentless heat and humidity, thinking that just a short 36 hours before, I was completing at test at Shoreline community college…so weird. Its taken at least a week for my being here to even really sink in.

There are 10 of us in the group- from the US, Canada, Australia, England, and Norway respectively. Our tour guide is from Spokane. Small world, eh? I travel to Central America to get a complete change of scene…and my guide is a Washingtonian. Typical. That night we had a wonderful meal and then drank beers on the rooftop terrace of our hostel, retiring early as we had another early start.

We spent the entire next day traveling on “chicken” buses through the winding highlands to the east coast of Honduras where we boarded a catamaran to the Bay Island paradise of Utila. This ended up a hilarious adventure when we all decided to sit out on deck, and enjoy the fresh air of the crossing, only to also enjoy being constantly pounded by waves crashing over the side of the boat and drenching us all to the bone. We laughed without stopping for about 30 minutes straight, at that point it all got rather cold and our sense of fun was taken away by the knowledge that we were only 1-2 way there!

We arrived, shivering drowned rats, to this tiny little settlement that the next few days revealed to house an assortment of strange characters seeking escape from the civilized western world in one form or another. The hot shower felt so good that night…and our spirits were all raised by the best bbq I´ve ever had…all for a fantastic $7 which included an ice cold cerveza!

Utila is on the second largest coral reef in the world and I intended to make the most of it! I got to the dive shop at 6am only to be told that the vis would be pretty bad as the weather was calling for choppy seas. I decided to postpone my dive until the following day and went in search of coffee.

A few of us decided to go on a snorkel trip which included a visit to a couple of uninhabited “Robinson Crusoe” like islands, one of which was only 200 metres wide by 400 metres long. Fantastic. It was leisurely day where we all got pretty much roasted by the sun, snorkeled to our hearts content, and lay out on pure white sand and drank beer. Very harsh indeed. It was so beautiful: but I found myself just wishing for someone to share it all with (other than my new, somewhat lame travel companions).

I got to scuba dive the following day : the conditions were perfect. As this was also a prime Whale Shark season, I was told that there was even a decent chance of spotting a Whale Shark for a snorkel encounter. After having had Whale Sharks elude me twice so far in my travels, both on the West Coast of Australia and Mexico…I did not want to hype myself up too much in case I was disappointed again. Alas, the sharkies did not come to us…as was explained by our very eccentric divemaster from the UK, Adam, who insisted on STANDING on the roof of the boat as we pounded the sea at full speed, screaming at the top of his lungs “NO!! NO Whale Sharks today…I know when they´re around coz I can SMELL THEM!! ARRRGGGHHHH!!” Very odd, but entertaining.

It was great to be diving again; though the memory of Jennifer still haunted me as I checked my regulator, o-ring, second stage, and tank…feeling tears come to my eyes. The dives on Utila were rather shallow…we didn´t go down more than 60 feet. I´ve been horribly spoiled in my diving experiences…I found the reef to be somewhat lacking in fish, though the diversity of the coral itself was outstanding. All the same, I´m still always filled with that momentary exquisite realization when I dive that is outside of the visual stimuli of wildlife itself- its just that blatant realization of “shit! I´m underwater…and breathing air!! This is fantastic!”

The next two days was almost entirely traveling, again in a variety of long, uncomfortable buses. Something I´m used to thankfully. The highlight for me was after arriving in the Honduran capital of Tegulcipalca, we experienced the kind of hair raising cab ride that made you feel you were living in a Jackie Chan movie. Our driver was completely insane, about as insane as the traffic, noise, dirt, crowds, and general nastiness of this sprawling megatropolis which I think in all my travels can only be rivaled by Saigon or India for its intensity. I could never live there.

Our driver would not stop for stop signs. Why bother, when you can risk yours and your passengers lives by flooring it through intersecting moving traffic??? And why believe that you should stick to one side of the road? Especially when you´re forced to wait….no! Just pull over into the opposing lane, floor it around a blind corner doing 50 mph, and then simply slam on the brakes for dear life when at the last possible second you see a truck heading straight for you in a near death head-on collision forcing you to put the car in reverse and drive backwards for nearly 3 minutes? And lest I forget, I also learned the importance of short cuts. Why drive a normal street when you can cut straight through an open public market, driving so fast that stall keepers and small children are forced to run for their lives to get out of the way, and there´s barely room for a bicycle to squeeze through let alone a car? Craziness.

When we got to our hotel, my 20 year old Norwegian companion just looked at me, finally exhaled, and said “Well. They don´t do that in Oslo.¨”

We arrived in Granada yesterday evening. Today I spent much of my day in this Internet cafe and taking a tour of Lake Nicaragua. Will write again soon!

Italy Part IV: Tuscany

15 Monday Sep 2008

Posted by Anita in Italy

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Its Thursday, and Hillary and I have booked a bicycle tour of Tuscany for today. This turned out to be the highlight of the entire trip! After bus sing it to the train station, we got a little lost looking for the tour meeting place, and just made it before the vans pulled out.

We immediately bonded with our tour guide, Gillian, who was from California. When we asked her, in rapture, how she came to be living in Florence, she answered “I married an Italian.” We then listened as she recalled the amazing love story of her and her husband Thomas, how they met, and survived 6 years of long distance before she gave in and immigrated. It was all so wonderfully romantic and happy that Hillary and I were both mesmerized. She even commented that her husband had 4 single friends and would either of us like to return to Florence next week and be set up? Hillary about fell over herself accepting that offer! (Can’t wait to hear how it turns out my darling! – have fun!)

Gillian gave us some really interesting insights into Italy: how important family is, and how they can be somewhat annoyingly dependent on one another (she commented that her father in-law would sometimes call in the middle of the night asking for them to move his car because he was illegally parked, as a for instance). She also said that the men here were not afraid of commitment, and that in general, men date with a view to finding a relationship because they really want to adore someone, and shower them with affection, love, and romance. Doesn’t sound bad, does it? Interestingly, it was also pointed out that people in Italy (men included) are very encouraging and congratulatory of a person who is starting out in a relationship. Guys will support other guys who seem to be falling in love. There is no social expectation of playing the field, being one of the guys, or being afraid of commitment. The Italians enjoy talking about romance and are not at all afraid of sounding mushy and gooey. It is wonderfully refreshing.

After getting kitted out with our bikes, helmets and fluids for the day, we set off on the rolling hills of the Tuscan countryside: only about 10 miles from Florence. It was beautiful, and exactly as I had always pictured it in my head.

Our first stop was a beautiful winery called Principe Corsini that produced 4 reds & 1 white as well as olive oil. We were astounded to learn that today was the very first day of the harvest, and the place had been abuzz since 5am! Everyone was running around, there was much excitement, and we were lucky enough to watch the grapes get poured into the giant mechanical grinders to be separated from their stems, crushed, and then piped to giant stainless steel vats for fermentation.

Not knowing that much about wine, I found the tour to be fascinating: learning about the steps of fermentation, what yeasts are added and when, what type of oak is used for what wine during the aging process, etc etc. This region is the Chianti region and thus famous for its wine of the same name that uses mostly the San Giovessi grape. I didn’t know that a red wine’s color comes entirely from the skin of the grape. Without the skin, you could make a red wine look white, it just wouldn’t taste that good.

We also learned much about olive oil. Interesting facts: each olive tree can only produce about 1 litre of oil, therefore production of olive oil has a notoriously low profit margin! Most of the olive oil comes from the pit, not the fruit. Extra virgin oil is produced during the first “press” of the fruit, virgin from the second, and regular olive oil from the 3rd press. Fascinating stuff.

Of course the highlight was getting to taste it all-which we did! The non-organic olive oil was my favorite, and I bought a can of it. I really enjoyed meeting with our tour guide, Rachel, too. She was from Australia and worked not only as a tour guide at the winery estate, but also worked as a nanny to the owner’s two (very spoiled) children. She had no plans for the winter, and as a fellow traveller, had been wandering the globe every since college graduation. I immediately suggested that she go work in Whistler for the winter, and offered to have her come visit me first in Seattle. We happily exchanged emails. (There is this strange, unspoken, kinship that exists between people who choose to take on the risk of globetrotting during their youth, and it bonds you to them immediately. That’s at least how I feel).

Funny story: there was a piano in the tasting room, and on it lay music from my favorite musical: Les Miserables. I asked Rachel “Why is the music to “Do you hear the people sing?” on the piano?”, to which she replies “Oh, I’m learning to play it – its my favorite musical!”. You can guess what happened. Yup, sang my heart out with Rachel at the keys for all to listen. What fun!

Our next stop was for lunch, and oh boy was it delicious! We ordered tagliatelle with funghi (mushrooms), ravioli, mixed salad, and tiramisu. It was a leisurely 2 hour affair with wine, and it was lovely getting to know our fellow cyclists. I especially enjoyed meeting Helen, an Australian lady who was travelling through Italy with her daughter, after recently losing her husband to cancer. She loved Mamma Mia, and I entertained her throughout the day by singing Abba songs to her while I rode my bike. She didn’t believe me when I told her that one of Abba’s first songs ever written was called “Hey Hey Helen”. I sang a few lines for her. “Oh, you made that one up!” she jibed. I’m going to send her the song!

After lunch, struggling up some of the hills with a full belly was quite the task. Luckily, there were also some staggeringly fun downhills too! Stopping for photos along the way- we rode for a solid two more hours, before our final stop for gelato!

Storm clouds were gathering and we began to hear the first rumbles of thunder. What a memorable day we’d had. We were hot, sticky, sweaty, and all kinds of nasty- but no matter! Hillary and I were catching a train at 6;30pm for Venice and we had to go as we were! In fact, we wouldn’t have made it without Gillian kindly offering to drive us to the station! Thanks, Gillian!

When we got to the station, Hillary and I were dismayed to find out that all of the second class tickets were sold out! Our first class tickets were $80 and we reluctantly paid, grabbed some sandwiches, and hopped aboard.

It was a fast 3 hours spent relaxing and excitedly recalling the day’s adventure. Nothing could top it- or at least we thought so.

Hillary and I stepped off the platform in Venice and exited the station. Then we stopped. And stood still, aghast. Hillary started crying. I welled up. The station is directly on the Grand Canale in Venice- so you actually step out onto stairs leading directly to the water – full of gondolas and boats, all towered over by stunning buildings and palazzos. All of this framed against a glowing night sky. We were beside ourselves for quite some time.

Getting in line to buy our “Vaporetto” tickets (the only public transport in Venice itself is by these shuttle boats) we were again stunned when we were approached by 2 Australians who gave us their day passes and said “There’s about 2 hours left on these…enjoy Venice!!” and walked away. Wheeee!! We got on the boat and awaited departure.

And waited. What was wrong with this boat? Why was this woman so mad with us that we’d decided to step out on the unshielded part of the boat where we could see the city? Hillary and I both got it at the same moment. What we were standing on, was not a boat! It was a sort of docking station, that the boats pull up to! We had pushed our way to the front of the line, and now stood in the path of exiting passengers. All very funny.

It was about an hour by boat to our hostel, and we didn’t arrive until after 11pm. The city was stunning at night, but despite our excitement, the prospect of a shower and bed was even greater.

Italy Part III: Florence

10 Wednesday Sep 2008

Posted by Anita in Italy

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Hillary and I woke in our lovely hostel in Florence early since we had reserved tickets to visit the Galleria Accademia – home to the world famous sculpture by Michelangelo, “The David”. I had read that the lines to get tickets to enter the museum could take up to 4-6 hours, since the museum has become more of a shrine than a tourist attraction, I didn’t feel like taking any chances.

It was lovely to be one of the first persons allowed into the museum which held an impressive array of renaissance sculpture and paintings (I will keep my descriptions to a minimum as I am far from being an art expert!) I had read that people just gasped when they first saw David, and I was sceptical. But at over 9 feet of manly perfection, he did not disappoint. There were all kinds of digital computerised programs set up to show the stages of sculpting the artist would have gone through, as well as the sculpture’s perfect proportions from a multitude of angles. He really was astounding- the intricacy of the work, the detail in every muscle, every contour left you with no other conclusion than Michelangelo was a rare genius. To be honest, after seeing David, the other sculptures kind of paled into insignificance.

After a few hours of art, Hillary and I wandered back towards the Duomo and got in line to walk the 461 steps up to the top of the basilica. It was really hot, and I put something around my shoulders and added the “pants” part to my shorts rather begrudgingly. Up we headed through the narrow and winding staircase which finally opened out onto an internal platform that circled the uppermost part of the painted ceiling of the cathedral. The painting was striking and depicted various tormented humans in hell, and those luckier few ascending to heaven. How on earth the work was done or completed is staggering to ponder.

Further on up more stairs led to a circular rooftop from which we could look over the entire city. We waned in the heat, but soaked up the views of the red roofed buildings, winding streets and the Tuscan hills in the background.

It was time for another Italian meal, and we both chose a different pasta dish and shared. I ordered a coke with my lunch, and was shocked to find that a 250ml bottle cost around $6!! The price of enjoying this place! (something that really bugs me about Europe– water is not provided in restaurants at no charge.)

We headed back to the hostel, but not before stopping for a bottle of wine in a grocery store. At the hostel, we booked a bicycle tour of Tuscany for the next day (very exciting) and found train times to Venice in the evening….all the while drinking our wine and getting lovely and sloshed. We had tickets for our next heavy hitting museum, the Uffizi at 4;30pm and we figured it might be more fun if we were a little inebriated.

And we were right. The Uffizi is enormous and overwhelming (though no way nearly as bad as the Louvre) and I did really enjoy the Bottecelli’s (especially The Birth of Venus) as well as some rather bloody and grotesque works by Caravaggio. After finally finding our way out of the museum (one can only ascend and descend floors in certain sections!) we headed south across the river to the Piazza Santo Spirito for dinner, as I’d heard that this was the best place to hear live music in the city!

The piazza did not disappoint. It was packed with people, and bustled with a vibrant life that you can only find in Europe (I think, but I’m prejudiced!) We found a fabulous Trattoria and shared a gigantic steaming plate of Tagliatelle with fresh Seafood and wine. Delicioso. We then settled down by the fountain to listen to an incredible blues band who were playing some original and some classic standards like “Autumn Leaves” and “Caravan”. I was in my element and soaked it all in with my glass of wine in hand.

An hour or so later, the band ended rather abruptly and a large crowd of people began to form at the north end of the piazza. It turned out to be a Catholic religious “Madonna” festival procession, and contained THOUSANDS of people singing and parading past us holding candles. We were so lucky to get a chance to witness this as the atmosphere was nothing short of electric.

Check out the video I’ve uploaded here…

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Italy Part II: Lake Como & Florence

09 Tuesday Sep 2008

Posted by Anita in Italy

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This morning, after breakfast, Hillary and I ran to catch the bus to Lenno, which is in the same direction as the original town of Como. Our hostel owner had given us an incorrect time of departure, and we ended up having to run up a hill to the bus stop, dragging our matching luggage behind us at great peril to their structural integrity, and jumped on the bus without tickets. In Italy, you have to buy your bus tickets in advance at a newsagents…or, apparently, at certain bars?? Problem is, the newsagents close at 12pm and then re-open at 4:30 – so you really must plan to buy the days’ worth of bus tickets ahead of time! After trying to smile cutely and convey that this was our first bus in Italy, the bus driver conceded to our paying 3 euros and letting us stay on board (I’m sure he put the coins directly into his pocket).

Our destination of the morning was the beautiful Villa Balbianello, on a promontory overlooking Lake Como, about a 2km walk from Lenno. The grounds are open to the public, and were originally built by a politically important cardinal in the 16^th century, but most recently was owned by an business entrepreneur and world explorer by the name Guido Monzino. I was initially drawn to the property because of its rise to fame in the movie world: it was used as a backdrop for a palace on Naboo in Star Wars: Episosde 2, and more recently (and excitingly), as the location for the place of rest and recovery to James Bond in the most recent Casino Royale film.

The grounds were magnificently beautiful, with tended tiered gardens that were breathtaking. We took a guided tour of the villa itself, which was fascinating, especially since the owner was such an interesting person. The entire top floor of the villa is a museum he created dedicated to his 27 world expeditions to places such as the North Pole, Everest, Patagonia, and Kilimanjaro. There were some incredible photos and artifacts on display, as well as an extremely impressive collection of ancient art that he had collected over the years on his many travels. The villa and the estate was donated to the Italian National Trust as a piece of cultural heritage upon his death in 1987. It turned out to be well worth the morning’s visit, in addition to fulfilling my geekish interest in the property as having been used as a film set.

After re-collecting our luggage (I had beguiled the young worker at the tourist information center into letting us leave our bags in the office) we hungrily acquired some fruit for our journey on to Como and waited for the bus (all the while praying, as a police officer had informed us that the bus MIGHT not come due to a strike. Of course, being Italian, he and everyone else standing in the bus queue seemed completely unperturbed at the possibility!)

Which brings me to some general observations of Italia in general. First of all, going to the bathroom is quite an adventure. There are all manner of levers and buttons that one has to push in order to flush and produce water in sinks. All needing much hand-eye-foot coordination.

Second, everything and everybody here takes their sweet time. Hillary and I have been standing in line waiting to buy, say, a bottle of wine, our cash at the ready, and we have to wait 5-10 minutes for the girl at the check out counter to complete her ever-so-much-more-important social conversation with her gal pal before she will even notice we are there. To a customer centred American, this is quite annoying at first, but in a few days, I’ve already grown accustomed to waiting…albeit impatiently. It is no longer strange because it happens all the time.

Third, everyone here is so relaxed and happy. It is apparent in their faces, the way they smile, the pace at which they move, every pore of their being oozes contentment at their being….well, Italian! I’ve yet to see someone looking harried, upset, rushed, or even slightly sad. It is very infectious, and one can’t help but smile along and stroll again, giving up “walking” entirely.

Upon arrival in Como, we bought our train tickets to Florence (SO expensive!! About $65 for a 3 hour train journey) and sat down to a sandwich and beer. The train itself was comfortable, fast, and efficient. And containing four men sitting opposite us who made it their goal to flirt tirelessly with us (well, primarily Hillary when I was napping) for the entire journey. They couldn’t speak a word of English, we couldn’t speak Italian, but somehow it was all very funny. As we went to disembark the train…one of the 4 guys got up with us too, even though they were travelling on to Naples. Hillary and I were a little nervous at what he was going to do…but apparently, his sole intention was to carry our luggage for us off of the train with nothing more than a smile. We were both melted at his gentleman like behavior, and mourned the lack of such men in the USA…

The heat hit us as we walked through the train station. It was 7pm and about 88 degrees. Whew! We had a 15 minute walk through the very busy city before we eventually found and checked into our hostel. It was perfect: clean, welcoming, cute, and very well maintained. We immediately bonded with the other two girls in our dorm: Robyn from Oz, and Laura from….SEATTLE! – and after a refreshing and much needed shower…we set off into the hot evening in search of the perfect Florentian meal.

As we walked towards the city centre, the girls told us that all of Florence’s main attractions lay within easy walking distance of each other, and that all we had to do was take this “via” in a straight line from the hostel and all would be very easy to find. That was when we turned a corner and were literally blown away by the Duomo, (meaning Cathedral in Italian) appearing suddenly and without any warning, spectacular in its sheer giant proportions. Hillary and I stood, silent, and open mouthed for some time. I’d never seen anything like it. It’s the 4^th largest cathedral in the world, and is striking in its ornate facade as well as white, green, and pink exterior. Nothing could prepare you for the sight, photos simply do not do it justice. Wonderful.

Happily for me, we all had a lovely dinner at a Trattoria aptly named “Anita”! Again, the pasta, wine, and olive oil brought tears to our eyes and yelps of joy to our throats.

After dinner, Robyn gave us all a little impromptu guided tour of the many piazzas in Florence, abundantly littered with glorious statues, fountains, cafes, and monuments that you get tired of sighing. We also visited the famous Ponte Vecchio– a bridge crossing the river that unusually contains storefronts along its length.

After a packed day (both with food and walking) we slept very hard indeed.

Italy Part I: Lake Como & Menaggio

08 Monday Sep 2008

Posted by Anita in Italy

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I am writing to you from Florence, stealing a quick 30 minutes at the computer in my hostel as I sip a cafe latte. So far, Hillary and I have only spent 3 full days in Italy, and already have accumulated a months worth of memories. I simply love this country. Its food, its people, its pace, attitude – all seem to suit me so pleasantly.

I flew to Milan this past Sunday from Krakow, Poland where Id spent a week visiting with my parents and Polish family. It was a lovely week, and I was looking forward to the second part of my European adventure. The flight got in late, and after only initial jitters at being in a foreign country, where I don’t speak the language-don’t know anyone, I managed to locate the train station and bought my ticket to Como, on the south shores of Lake Como. I was going to have to change trains in Sorenno.

All went without a hitch, except for traipsing around a deserted town (it was only 9pm!) looking for a place to buy water and sustenance in Sorenno (eventually I found a woman closing a kiosk who literally got me a glass of water from her tap!!) and I arrived in Como around 10pm. I waited for the bus for 20 minutes or so before deciding on a cab, since it was a Sunday. Expecting to find Hillary waiting for me on arrival at our Hostel, I was dismayed to learn she hadn’t arrived yet. (She eventually made it around 11:30pm after a harrowing train adventure!) I showered, organized, and awaited Hilliary’s arrival.

The next day found us both very excited to explore the very famous Lake Como, that Id been wanting to visit for many years, but especially after watching Casino Royale which had been filmed here. It did not disappoint.

Hillary and I caused a local stir as we wheeled our bags the 1km or so to the ferry dock. Inadvertently and coincidentally, she and I had the exact same rolling-carryable backpacks from REI, just in different colors. We want to believe that that is why most locals stared and-or spoke to us as we walked!

We caught the two hour ferry boat to Menaggio, a little town that had been recommended to me by my friend, Cindy (thanks, Cindy!). We sat lazily in the sun, enjoying the views, and overhearing the beautiful melodic sounds of people speaking in Italian. The water was a beautiful translucent green, the weather was completely perfect, and we both joked and guessed which of the stunning waterfront villas we passed belonged to George Clooney? Upon arrival, we noticed our hostel just up the street from the ferry dock and made our way up the steep hill. The hostel was closed, and not wanting to haul our luggage all day, we conveniently stowed it in a laundry room, and headed back into the village to find the perfect Lake Como lunch.

And we did. Italy never fails to satisfy culinary desires. We ordered a mozzarella, basil, tomato salad and a pizza, sitting in the open air cafe overlooking the water without a care in the world. It was straight out of a movie.

Upon settling into our Vino Blanco, we were joined by some gregarious English-Polish travellers who were lots of fun to converse with. Ben, only 24, owned a house in Menaggio (to which, I obviously questioned “Does that come with a boat?”) and lived in Tanzania. They promised to call us later to partake in some social revelry, especially since everything in town closed around 9pm.

Hillary and I headed back to the boat pier and took the 15 minute trip across the lake to the famous village of Bellagio. This village was the inspiration for the famous Bellagio hotel in Las Vegas, incidentally. We had a gloriously lazy afternoon, strolling its narrow cobbled streets, climbing its winding stairs and alleys, looking at its shops of silk, jewelry and leather, and of course, eating more food. Every corner turned revealed another postcard perfect scene.

Heading back to Menaggio, we checked into the hostel and then wandered back to town for dinner(Hillary and I both agree that we could eat literally the entire day away here. The food is that good). Settling into two heaping plates of steaming pasta, insalata mixta, and vino rosso de la casa, we were happy bunnies. The rest of the evening was spent strolling along a moonlit lake that begged for romance, kissing, and hand holding. Alas, Hillary and I had to make do with one another (for company, that is, not kissing). Calling it an early night (Hill was still a bit jet lagged), we crashed into our dorm room beds, full of excitement at the prospect of tomorrow’s adventures.

Chilean Adventure: Photos!

30 Sunday Mar 2008

Posted by Anita in Chile

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http://picasaweb.google.com/anitalgray/Chile2008TheAtacamaDesert

http://picasaweb.google.com/anitalgray/Chile2008TheSouthLakesDistrictAndPatagonia

http://picasaweb.google.com/anitalgray/Argentina2008ElCalafateBuenosAires

Chilean Adventure Part VI

20 Thursday Mar 2008

Posted by Anita in Argentina, Chile

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It is with a saddened heart that I write my last epistle of my magical adventure through South America. Tomorrow, I fly home to the United States, changed by my experiences here. This journey has surpassed all of my expectations, and all I can wish is that I had had the foresight to travel for at least another month!

I last left the story in Puerto Natales, the day before the start of my 4 night-5day backpacking adventure along the famous and fondly known “W” (named for the shape that the trail makes) in the stunning Patagonia National Park known as Torres Del Paine. After finishing my last email…it was almost time for the 3pm afternoon “talk” where the owner of the Erratic Rock Hostel, Rustyn, gives would be hikers the lowdown on the trail, what to bring, weather conditions, recommendations etc. I was pretty hungry, but all of the restaurants in town were taking a “siesta” and were closed. As hikers began to file into the room, a few of them introduced themselves to me- Franklin, from Seattle (!!!!), and Sven from Denmark. They were both planning on hiking “The Circuit” – a much longer version of the W that carries considerably greater bragging rights. I sighed. No hiking buddy for me – yet!

Svend was kind enough to share some bread with me which went nicely with my hot American coffee that I had been drinking nonstop since my arrival (this is what being exposed to Nescafe instant for 4 weeks does to you). Rustyn was an extremely entertaining fellow. I had discovered over breakfast that morning that he, his wife, and their two children had decided to pursue their ¨”American Dream” several years ago by packing up their lives in Oregon and moving to Patagonia to open this hostel and guiding service. During the orientation he humored us with funny anecdotes of the pitfalls that await the unprepared hikers: wearing too many clothes on the sunrise ascent to the Torres then having to turn back because they are so cold, freaking out when it starts raining as they haven´t protected their sleeping bags with plastic, trying to complete the hike too fast, carrying too much weight, and my personal favorite: thinking that Goretex is the miracle fabric that will keep them protected from the elements and allow their sweat to magically evaporate because its just “SO BREATHABLE”!!!

As usual with me, I was falling over myself laughing, and to my added enjoyment, so was Sven. At the end of the talk, I turned to Sven and said, “You have a sense of fun. I like you. We´re hiking together!” And he agreed! A few minutes later we had appended 2 others to our little hiking party (which was henceforth known as Team Guanacos 2008) – Franklin (who had also decided to forgo the Circuit) and a lovely German girl called Britta (who was henceforth known as Bitter Britta by myself…..Can you please pass me a bit of better butter Britta bitter??? ha ha!) We busily decided amongst ourselves with pen and paper (and me whooping with building anticipation of our adventure) what equipment we still needed to rent, and what items were necessary for purchase amongst us. It was clear from the start that Team Guanacos had a born leader…Sven, a serious mountaineer who had recently returned from an attempted ascent of South America´s tallest mountain, Aconcagua (which I always referred to as Anaconda as I couldn´t remember the damn name), and who is so irritatingly fit and made of muscle, that he was clearly choosing to hike the “W” as part of his cool down. He soon garnered the nickname of Papa Sven, at least from the girls! The rest of us were going to get our asses seriously kicked!

The rest of the afternoon was a hilarious parade around town..starting with a late lunch where we picked up a fifth member for our team – Meg from Massachusettes, who had come to volunteer at Erratic Rock for a month. We all paced around town trying to pick up trekking poles, trash bags, an assortment of groceries, batteries, caribiners, hats, sunscreen, and a rather screamingly funny attempt to acquire Moleskin at a pharmacy by pointing to our feet and saying “por nuestre piernas!!”. The next morning, Britta enquired if I had obtained the moleskin by asking me – “Did you manage to get the bliss preventation?” Clearly this also became a catchphrase for the rest of the trip… “Isn´t it magnificent?” “Yes! Its totally bliss preventation!!”

You get the idea.

After a very late night (imagine five people splitting provisions over a breakfast table, including getting a giant mixing bowl and trying to aportion dried milk, sugar and oatmeal into the right proportions for 20 breakfasts!) spent packing my pack, I went to bed around midnight too excited to fall asleep. The bus was picking us up at 7am. I was getting quite adept at early mornings: why do I only have a hard time with it in the States?

Breakfast was abuzz with excitement (at least for me, everyone else seemed rather miserable to be awake), and it grew when one by one, the rest of team Guanacos arrived in the lobby to await our bus. We had a lovely “before” shot of the five of us on the couch, and then we all piled onto the bus where I proceeded to annoy the shit out of everyone, and create suspicions of drug use due to my cheeriness. Together with Sven and Britta, I soon came up with what would be the theme song to our backpacking trip “Torres Del Paine!” sung to the tune of “everybody dance now!”. W! Let the winds blow you down….let the mountains move you….Sweat! Sw—-weat! Hope you´re wearing PolyPro! Leave the cotton behind! – To which we all dissolved into painful fits of giggles. This was going to be an amazing group of people!!

After an hour catnap, we arrived at the first stop and ran in for a quick pee (remember Britta?) and a coffee (well…a sip of coffee that we stole from Sven). Soon, the full magnificence of the park was before our very eyes and we were happily snapping pictures of the “Torres!” from the bus. The bus dropped us off a little early at the launch site for the catamaran across Lago Pehoe that would take us to the start of our hike. So we all decided to walk the 1km or so to a little waterfall just off the trail. This is where we got our first tastes of the bitter Torres Winds. Patagonia gets weather patterns hitting it from the Atlantic, Antarctic, and Pacific Oceans, making it one of the windiest places on earth. Hikers have literally been swept up and off their feet by it. Fortunately for us, that afternoon was the only time on the entire hike where we were subjected to its full ferocity.

Paranoid about missing the boat (the literal one of course!) I practically ran back to th

e launch. Of course there was nothing to worry about, and we were soon on our merry way, eating chocolate and peaches.

Off we set on our relatively easy first day´s hike of 11km to Refugio Grey at the shore of stunning Lago Grey. We whooped and snapped away photos of icebergs that had chunked off of the glacier and were now happily floating downstream. They were an amazing array of translucent blue color. The wind was still brutal until we finally descended into the valley that would be our campsite for the first night. We literally staked our tents on a beach that had a view directly overlooking the glacier beyond, and that contained thousands of tiny icebergs, all happily lapping at the shore. It was by far the best campsite of the trip. Ravenous, we all quickly got to work making dinner, several of us stealing a gloriously though trickling hot shower in the campground ( I know, you´re not really in the backcountry at any point on this itinerary!). Pasta, serrano ham, and white sauce never tasted so good. We were all pretty happy….and then

Papa Sven produced a carton of red wine that he had hauled up for our first night of camping! We drank it greedily, using it to wash down hunks of chocolate that we´d brought for dessert.

Settling down for the first night was interesting…we decided that Meg and Franklin would share the two person tent, leaving Britta, myself and Sven in the three man tent. Once we were all in there, it for sure felt like a two man- we had to turn in unison it was so tight! But we for sure became the giggly tent, and dissolved into fits of laughter every night for a good hour or two before we could wind down enough for any shut eye. Britta:your English is excellent, please forgive us for sometimes laughing at your sentence formations! They were very entertaining…remember- “I didn´t want to go…its just too cliffy!”?

I slept surprisingly well despite my sleeping pad, which should have been called “the useless layer of foam that only gives you the impression that there is something between your hip bone and the cold hard ground.” Ouch. We got up quite late – had a yummy breakfast of oatmeal and blackberry jam, then headed up to the next camp which boasted a view overlooking the crevasses of the glacier up close. We left our heavy gear and headed up armed with just water. It was well worth the effort, and a spectacularly clear and sunny day! Upon o

ur return, we enjoyed a second breakfast of eggs (that I had transported already whipped in a bottle), watched dumbfounded as Sven decided to go skinny dipping in the frigid ice water, before packing up our slightly lighter backpacks and heading back down to Lago Pehoe.

After getting about half way, it became painfully obvious that we had started our main hike of the day way too late, and that we would probably be forced to make our way to Campamento Italiano during and after sundown. By the time we got back to Lago Pehoe, it was already 7pm, my feet were hurting, and we had another 2 hours to go! Trying to stay focused on getting there…we all dug in and headed out, stopping only for chocolate to refuel, and to put on extra layers when the sun finally dipped below the horizon. I was so glad that Britta and Sven were with me at this point… I was close to tears having also just had the enormous fortune of starting my period!!! (what great timing, eh?) Sven tried to encourage me by saying “Just think that we’re Ninjas on a quest! Ninjas don’t get tired!”, to which I res

ponded “Ninjas don’t hike!”, which had us all laughing hysterically. The one thing that succeeded in getting my mind off of the pain in my feet was singing. Britta and Svend requested many songs, and I sang any that popped into my head. In fact, for the rest of our journey, I sang for many hours every day. I gained the label of “organic ipod”!

The last 30 minutes we walked in complete darkness, and realizing that we had packed my headlamp in with the tent, only had two sources of light for the three of us. Our final approach to the campsite was a swinging bridge over a torrential river, which was´n´t at all scary by day, but that late at night after a 27km day, it was a little unnerving! We were relieved to find Meg and Franklin already at their site, and after quickly putting up our tents, enjoyed a lovely meal of tuna and rice, for the moment forgetting our foolishness for the late start.

We began our 3rd day at a reasonable hour and began our traverse up the Valle Frances sans backpacks. All through the night we had heard what we thought was thunder rumbling. Now we saw that the source of the thunder, was not lightning, but avalanches of snow and ice tumbling and crashing down the faces of the huge peaks around us. They put on quite a display for us all morning, cracking and creating huge plumes of powdered snow, and ¨”waterfalls” of snow. This valley was very awe inspiring, and we were rewarded for our tough hike from the day before with magnificent views and clear skies (again!) At the half way point, the group stopped to rest and take pictures. However, I wanted to go a little further, so Sven and I continued on for another hour or so to get a closer look at the top of the valley, while the group rested below. Heading back down to camp we quickly packed away the tents, ate a little lunch and strapped on our backpacks for the 3.5 hour sojourn to Los Cuernos, our lakeside camping destination for night 3.

The views here changed significantly to more rolling green hills-shrubbery and the beautiful lake and shores to our right. Several times, the trail led out onto a rocky beach which made for an interesting change of pace. Taking our time we arrived at the Refugio in time for one of the most delicious things a hiker can think of after a long hard day of hiking in the sun – a cold beer! We all raised our cans in unified joy.

That evening, we decided to treat ourselves to the dinner available to purchase at the refugio. First, we had to sneak into the showers which were not intended for use by the campers. The trick was just to look like you belonged there. Since the girls´ shower was separated from the men´s with a high wall, we had a fun time throwing my towel over to Sven for him to borrow (he had forgotten to bring one!). Add giggles.

After spending 20 minutes looking for Britta´s camera, and many games of “Shick shnack schnook” (which is German for rock paper scissors) to decide which of us was getting out of the tent to dislodge a rock that was jutting into Britta´s back, and who was going to fetch Britta´s water, we managed to get to sleep: after some very needed rubbies provided by me!

That night, we had the only rainfall of the entire trip. Hard to believe, no? Didn´t even have to get out the famous rain gear!

We set off on our fourth day with some trepidation: this was going to be the hardest day of the trek (the question was…”To be…..or what? in a Sylvester Stallone accent….you may have had to be there!), and all to be completed with our full backpacks! Once again, the scenery was refreshingly different, and we had to cross a couple of rivers in the morning. By mid afternoon the sun was beating down on us and we eagerly awaited the arrival of the secret trail that was a shortcut up to Campamento Torres. That shortcut led along the left flank of a beautiful little lake which we began to walk around. Shortly into the hike we met two older hikers coming out of the trail, saying that it was far too muddy for them to continue. Unfazed, we trod on through the slightly wet ground to the lake shore…we had decided to go swimming! What is a trip to Torres Del Paine without the obligatory half naked swim in a glacially fed lake?? The water actually felt really good and refreshed our hot tired sweaty dirty bodies…hmmm that sounds weird doesn´t it? After our swim, we laid out on our sleeping pad and happily dried off in the glorious sunshine.

Having taken such a lazy break in the day, it was even tougher completing our 3 1-2 hour slog up to Campamento Torres – our destination for the night before our pre-dawn summit day to the viewpoint of the Torres themselves. Going was pretty tough, lots of ups and downs, and just when you thought you were done…more ups!! Again, happy to get to camp, we washed by the river, set up camp and made a nutritious dinner of lentils, rice, tuna and spices. It was my idea to make creamy rice pudding after with the leftover rice, and that turned out to be a real hit! Delicious. We then all prepped our bags for our early morning, packing just coffee and breakfast, and room for throwing in our sleeping bags and pads to truly set up for the view.

Getting up at 5:30am was very strange but very exciting. Off we set into the darkness with our headlamps lighting our path…following the long line of headlamps that stretched up up up before us in a lighted procession showing the way to the base of the famous Towers. The morning air was bitterly cold, but only wearing two layers, we quickly heated up due to the pitch of the climb – definitely the steepest of the trek. The last section was a scattering of loose gravel and gigantic boulders…. slowly being more and more illuminated by the pinkening sky.

Finally we were at the top..and all of our fears about the predicted cloudy weather were dissipated when we saw the towers fully exposed in all their majesty brilliantly clear against the dawn sky. Interestingly, every other part of sky around us was obscured by clouds, only the towers themselves were clear. Our luck was beyond belief!!

Eagerly, we found a gigantic rock to set up our sleeping bags on, got all cozy and made hot coffee and oatmeal. It is a meal I will not quickly forget. I have only felt a truly spiritual connection with somewhere in nature twice before in my life: Denali, and Uluru in Australia. This was the third. Truly “Nature Porn” -as Sven liked to call it!

We spent over two hours at the viewpoint taking an abundance of photos as the towers changed colors as the sunlight hit them in various places. Soon it was time to bundle back down to the campsite, pack up, and hurry down to Hosteria Torres in time for the 2pm shuttles back to the bus.

It was a relatively hitch free descent, only marred by our growing realization that our adventure was coming to a close. It had been marvellous, and our group had grown close.

Happily, we arrived an hour early – in enough blissful time to pack down some hot panini sandwiches and cold cold beer in the Hosteria´s restaurant. That meal brought tears to our eyes and glee to our aching muscles and smelly butts. Utterly magnificent.

In fact, we were all on such a high, that by the time I got on the minibus for our transfer, I was completely giddy and started singing at the top of my voice, dancing in my seat, and waving frantically at the hikers we passed on the road… Ah! Good fun!

And so ended our epic journey. We all promptly passed out on the 3 hour bus ride back to the hostels, and then took the best shower of our lives before going out for an enormous celebratory meal of steak and wine.

I must finish there as I seem to have gone on for quite long enough. If you stayed with me this long…I thank you for sharing the journey!!

I will write to you about my time in El Calafate and Buenos Aires when I get back to the States this weekend.

Hope to see you all soon!

Much love!

Chilean Adventure Part V

11 Tuesday Mar 2008

Posted by Anita in Chile

≈ Leave a comment

Friends,

Time is really starting to fly by on my trip and I find myself writing this to you from Puerto Natales, on my “prep” day before heading out on my 4-5 day backpacking adventure in the beautiful Torres Del Paine National Park.

I last left you in Pucon, after my horrific bus experience from Santiago. The following morning, I was all set to climb the mighty Volcano Villarica (2847 M). I awoke at 6am, ate breakfast, packed my lunch and set out into the dawn to walk to the guide company´s office. There was a strange sense of camaraderie on the streets that morning, since the only people out and about were fellow volcano climbers and all acknowledged one another with a small nod of solidarity.

After a bumpy 45 minute van ride to the mountain´s base, we were told that the winds were just too strong to make it a safe climbing day. The chairlift was not working either,

making it at least a 5 to 5 1/2 hour ascent. Gloomily, we all got back in the van and headed back down to the city.

Fortunately, I met up with a few people that morning who were interested in doing a day hike to Huerquehue (wer–ke-we) national Park instead, home of the magnificent Monkey Puzzle tree. The guides arranged a taxi, we went off to our hostels to pick up our swim suits, and met back at the shop an hour later. Sole, a Chilean Winemaker from Santiago, Ileana a Marine Biology student from Sweden, Max a Viticulturist from France, and myself made up our happy little group.

It was a gloriously hot sunny day, belying the blowing winds atop the crater all day. Off we headed into the forest for the 7km walk to Lago Verde. Once there, we all laid out in the sun and enjoyed our packed lunches. The girls were ready to stay and relax, but Max and I were eager to check out the other lakes further up the trail. It was an additional 2 hour loop, but well worth it for the additional views and greater density of the Monkey Puzzle trees: I was so tempted to take a baby tree and pack it in my contact lens case back to the states, to grow it in my living room!

Back at the lake, we swam and laid out in the hot late afternoon sun for a glorious couple of hours. I became fast friends with the girls, having the kind of intense and emotional conversation that you only experience back home with friends of many years. It again reminded me of the kind of bonds that can be formed in a short space of time while travelling.

Heading back down the mountain, and back to Pucon with our timely cab driver, we were all ready for some grub and beer! Not being able to decide on what to order, I suggested a group feeding. picking 4 items off the menu, we each in turn ate for 3 minutes and then passed the plates clockwise around the table until all the food was gone (or Max finished it). It was a very memorable meal indeed. Feeling exhausted from my 20km hike, and fearing exhaustion for our second volcano attempt in the morning, I left around 10pm and crashed into an intense sleep.

The next day we were blessed with incredible weather. My legs were a little sore from the previous days´ exertion, but I managed to keep a steady and strong pace. Th

e ascent could be broken down into three sections…a rocky staircase of winding switchbacks, followed by a crampon-ice axe-necessary snow-ice section, and the final extremely steep loose rock-scree scramble to the summit. All in all, it was an approximate 5000 vertical feet ascent…a pretty tough climb, in not a great distance. However, as the climb progressed I began feeling better and fell into a rhythm. I was therefore mightily perturbed when the guides told me I had to stay behind when we reached the final section before the summit. They told me that I appeared tired and might hurt myself on the way down. I argued, albeit in Spanish, but they seemed unmoved. I was utterly furious. I felt great! So I pretty much told them that I was going, and they´d have to physically stop me. That seemed to do the trick (later on, in the middle of the descent, my guide apologized for assuming i was tired…!!!) Other climbers were not so lucky, and one girl who received the same speech as me sat there and burst into tears. I felt really badly for her. I still don´t know why they pushed us so hard, and why they acted like this ascent was a race. I later found out that the restrictions are set up by the park service, Conaf, to try to minimize the risk of injuries. Even so, I summited a full hour before the designated last safe summit time! The true reasons will remain a mystery.

The exhilaration felt on arrival was stupendous and very quickly halted by the stink of sulphur. The gas emissions from the crater that day were particularly strong, and if I approached the crater to take a few snaps, it felt like I was being slowly suffocated, and a burning sensation hit your lungs and throat. I compensated by holding my breath and then running to the edge and back…! Fortunately, one of the other guided groups had been provided gas masks, and I happily borrowed one to be able to walk along the entire rim of the volcano and take in the views without suffering.

We took an entirely different route for the descent, and it was SO MUCH FUN! After the loose rock (where I banged up my knee pretty bad) we had at least 4 sections where we could glissade down the snow (literally sliding on our arses). It was super fun and you could really get up to some high speeds, controlling it with your ice axe. One section was a specially carved out section of 8 f

oot high ice, and careening down it felt more like a high speed disney ride than a volcanic descent. Way too much fun. I was screaming and laughing the whole way.

After ice came deep volcanic ash,which you could “jump” through, making the going extremely easy on the knees and relatively fast. I arrived at the bottom exhilarated but tired, covered in ash, and with a giant grin on my face. I´d made it!

After some time at the guide´´s office trying to console the crying hiker who had been denied the summit and listened (unlike me), I went home for a very needed shower (the water ran brown). I then met up with Sole, who hadn´t climbed with us, for Mojitos and food! Unfortunately, she was heading back to Santiago that evening…It was lovely meeting you Sole!! Stay in touch!

Meanwhile, my new Pachamama family was arriving at the hostel. Jorge greeted me with a giant hug. It was very good to see him again. Despite being tired, we headed out for a few beers with the rest of the group who all very eagerly asked me about the volcano. and what it had been like…

The following day, after a little lie in, I headed into town with Kathy (a pachamama passenger from the UK), to catch a bus to go white water rafting on the Upper Trawen river. It has class 3 and 4 rapids. It was the perfect day for the river, as it was overcast and raining pretty steadily. The volcano would have to wait for another day for the rest of the group. After getting kitted out in wetsuits, booties, shorts and helmets we carried the boats down to the river. Kathy and I were placed in a group of five, as there was an uneven number of people. This would have been fine except that it included an “injured” Chilean, who couldn´t paddle for shit, and a middle aged couple from mexico who paddled as if they were stirring tea with a spoon. I was pissed. Our six man vessel was essentially being maneuvered through very dangerous white water with Kathy, myself and the guide working very very hard. The mexican lady grew very afraid after only the first drop and essentially dropped her paddle, preferring to cower in the back of the boat mumbling to herself in fear. How could they have sold her this activity without explaining what it would be like, and the physical challenge it would present?? It was beyond me, and by the time she decided that her role was to re-shout the guides directions, and tell us to paddle stronger, I wanted to smack her in the mouth.

The next few drops were hair raising. Definitely the roughest water I´ve rafted through. Like being in the spin cycle of a washing machine. The Chilean man fell out, and I feared for his life. Luckily we managed to drag him back into the raft. At this point, I was a little fearful myself. This wasn´t safe. so when we had to navigate a portage a little down the river, I expressed my feelings to another guide and insisted that they put another strong person on our boat, which gratefully, they did. Most of us got the chance to jump about 20 feet into the river from a cliff after the portage. It was lots of fun…I yelled “Vive Chile“, shut my eyes, and jumped. What a rush.

The rest of the river was a little more tame, and I was reassured by having another set of strong arms helping us navigate. Great river though.

Now my arms and my legs were equally wrecked!

That afternoon, we recuperated and sat around the hostel whilst it poured and thundered outside. It felt very cozy and I remembered how much I missed thunderstorms. That evening, around 8pm, our group set out to the natural hot springs at Pozones, a set of 4 natural rock pools with varying temperatures from scolding to cool. We sat resting our aching muscles whilst sipping wine for a couple of chill hours. We sang songs. It was lovely.

We were supposed to head out the next day, but since the weather cleared up, Jorge decided to stay and let the group climb villarica. I was a little disappointed as I had already stayed in Pucon for five days, but I was happy when Jorge arranged for the 3 of us not climbing to go on another horseback ride. It was a beautiful ride through meadows overlooking the lakes and mountains around us. The horses were not as tame as the ones we´d been fortunate to ride in Pisco Elqui, these had quite a bit of spirit and needed a much more confident rider. My horse had an itchy tummy, and kept kicking himself in the stomach. He also hated being near the other horses and tried to kick any that came to close. He was also very eager to go fast, which all made for a very energetic riding experience. At the turnaround point, we dismounted and went on a short hike to an incredible cascading waterfall…it was as if I was in Hawaii, except a little cooler.

That evening we tentatively awaited the return of the pachamama family and they showed up looking worn out. 3 of them hadn´t made it to the top and there were some tears shed. we all piled on the bus, and I passed out donuts to everyone ( i knew how hungry they´d be and we had a 3 hour journey to Valdivia).

Getting to Valdivia around 9pm, only the hardy and strong showered and came back out for an epic meal at the Kunstmann brewery with fantastic German Fare. We ordered legs of pork, sausages, steaks, and a 2 1-2 litre jug of lager served in an epically tall glass complete with pour spout. Well fed, we all slept very well.

Which brings me to my rather uneventful day yesterday. I was sad as I knew i´d be leaving the group, but especially Jorge, whom I had grown to think of as a dear friend. In the morning we walked around the fish market and took pictures of the enormously fat sea lions that live off of the scraps the local fishermen throw out to them every day. Then we had a 2 1-2 hour drive to Puerto Montt, where I´d be catching my flight to Punta Arenas. We ate an amazing local lunch of Grilled Salmon, smothered with tomatoes, sausage, and melted cheese, then spent a little while walking around the handicraft market. I bought an angora sweater for $15!! After shedding some tears at my farewell, I jumped in a cab and headed to the airport.

I was pleasantly surprised by both airports in Puerto Montt and Punta Arenas. I was expecting bus shelter type buildings and was very impressed at how modern and efficiently designed they both were. I had an incredibly smooth flight and landed on time a few hours later. I went straight to the information desk and asked when the next bus was for Puerto Natales? The woman at the counter (whom I later found out was completely useless and stupid) told me that there was a bus in 15 minutes, but that it doesn´t come to the airport unless you have specifically requested that well in advance. She told me to take the bus going into the city first, and then there would be a bus at 8pm. I was already tired, so a little miffed, I loaded my bags on the bus and took my seat. Then I thought to myself, wait a minute!! With all those people on that flight…surely someone had made a reservation on the 18.30 bus! Following my gut instinct, I leaped off, grabbed my bags and ran to the public telephones to call the bus company. The phones didn´t work. The stupid woman was gone. I ran to the car rental counter and asked very sweetly if I could borrow their phone to ask if the 18:30 bus to Natales was coming by the airport…The gentleman was very kind and offered to call and ask them himself. Sure enough, I was correct and it was already en route to the airport, and I could buy my ticket on board! He showed me where to wait…and the bus arrived 10 minutes later!! The only issue was that with all my shit with me, I couldn´t easily go to the bathroom first (I ended up using the bus toilet, but it is a very traumatic experience as the toilet seat is on a lever system, and smacks you in the butt when you stand up after wiping yourself) and all of the airport shops were closed, so I couldn´t get a snack before the 3 hour bus ride. Nevertheless, I was very happy to be arriving around 21:30 instead of around midnight.

On arrival, I slogged my bags across town and checked into the erratic rock hostel, immediately surrounded again with like minded travellers from the US (it is a us run hostel), England and other parts of Europe. After crashing my bags down on my bed, I went downstairs, got a restaurant recommendation, asked everyone in the common area if anyone was up for some food, and joined by my brand new Irish companion, headed off for a late supper. I had the most exquisite asparagus soup and chicken stuffed avocados. Yum! Clo was a really spitfire too, and we shared some great stories of our adventures thus far.

Coming “home” (that´s what this place feels like), I changed into Pj´s and stayed up to watch “Collateral” with my hostel buddies, and the hostel Kittie all happily spread out and purring on my chest. Ahhhhhh….a good end to a travel day.

Today I am essentially getting ready for my backpacking trip: getting gear ready, supplies, bus tickets, finding a hiking partner, writing emails (this one!) etc etc. I hope you´ve enjoyed reading as much I have enjoyed writing…and I look forward to updating you upon my return from one of the greatest hikes in Patagonia!

Signing off from Southernmost place on earth I´ve ever been.

	Anita on Climbing Mt. Rainier – M…
	Elle Mclees on Climbing Mt. Rainier – M…
	Anita on Climbing Mt. Rainier – M…
	evejakubowski on Climbing Mt. Rainier – M…
	TsiTsi McLure on Take Me to Church – Chimaniman…

Anita Go Travel

~ Life as a passport, one stamp at a time.

Central America Part III

Central America Part II

Central America Part I

Italy Part IV: Tuscany

Italy Part III: Florence

Italy Part II: Lake Como & Florence

Italy Part I: Lake Como & Menaggio

Chilean Adventure: Photos!

Chilean Adventure Part VI

Chilean Adventure Part V